Gospel Story Finder

Why do I say that? Here’s one reason: I knew a boy who faced an unexpected and challenging decision. He faced it at the end of the summer in the year he turned fifteen. He had just returned home after working all summer on his uncle’s farm in another part of the state.
It was the first sacrament meeting he had attended since returning home. For some reason, he was detained a few minutes after the meeting. When he found his friends, they were standing in a group just outside the church building. As he approached, he noticed that they were concluding some kind of agreement. When he joined them, he was met with a seemingly innocent question: “Are you going in with us on it or not?”
“On what?” was his reply.
“On a half gallon of beer.”
That answer really shook him. He was not ready for it. His group had always been good kids. This question was completely out of character, he thought. But things were not as he remembered them. He had spent his summer away from his pals, and this had kept him more or less as he was. Something, however, had happened to change his friends. They seemed more grown up and worldly. This surprise made him falter before answering their question. It’s strange how many things can go through your mind in a flash: These were his friends. They were not enemies. He knew each one well. He had sat in Primary and Sunday School classes with them. They had sung songs together. Some of them had been ordained deacons the same Sunday. They had passed the sacrament together scores of times. Their school activities had brought them close. With some of them he had built toy airplanes and scooters and played rubber guns. They had hiked and worked and played together. Why should this simple question threaten this choice association?
Pressure from friends and acquaintances our own age is tremendously powerful! There is a desire to want to be “one” with friends. Besides, who wants to be a sissy, afraid to join in the fun. What’s more, if he didn’t join them, he would be one against the crowd.
But even with all of these ideas running through his head, another idea impressed itself even harder on his mind. There was one reason that stood out against all that seemed so appealing: It was not right. From somewhere within him came the courage to say, “No, I don’t think I will.”
The group turned away and strode across the street toward the beer hall, intent on carrying out their plan. My friend was left standing—alone. I’m sure he did not think of the Lord’s statement, “It is not good for man to be alone,” but he certainly understood its meaning in a new and personal way. He came to understand the truth of that statement in the days that followed and to see why all of us need true and loyal friends who believe and live as they should.
Even though he was fifteen—going on sixteen—tears came to his eyes as he walked home. His mother, sensing that something was wrong, asked, “What has happened?”
He blurted out the short experience.
“You’ve done right, my son” she reassured him.
“I wish I were as sure as you are,” he answered.
“You made the right decision,” she repeated, “and you’ll see. You will be blessed.”
The days that followed this incident were not especially happy ones. It took readjustments to establish his equilibrium. There followed a process of establishing new friendships. There was the inevitable heartache at school when conversations would grind to a stop as he joined his former group. There were moments of loneliness as he walked between the high school and the adjacent industrial arts building. What was formerly spontaneous fun and youthful sport changed to a subdued good humor. There were some obvious moments in basketball practice, too, when he would be in the clear and call for the pass, only to be ignored while another person was sought out to receive the ball.
But that all passed as everyone knows it will. Time is the great eraser. It dulls the former sad moments. It smooths hurts and salves wounds.
It was not long until former friendships were reestablished, although on a different basis than before. In a little more than a year, this young man was elected seminary studentbody president. The next year he was elected high school studentbody president by his friends. Two years later he entered the mission field, the only one of his class to do so. One classmate went on a mission the following year, but his other friends never did.
This young man has since fulfilled many calls to service and responsibility in the Church. Other tests of his integrity and moral standards have come into his life—as they come into the lives of us all. But few such tests have been so well-remembered or have made so lasting an impression on his life.
In a rather undramatic situation, he chose the right. And his mother was right, as mothers generally are. Her promise was literally fulfilled: “You’ll see. You will be blessed.”

Melissa tells of an experience at school. “In my home economics class we were learning how to make tea. I had to explain to the teacher that it’s part of our religion to keep our bodies healthy, and that I couldn’t drink that kind of tea because there are bad things in it. Everyone was surprised when she gave me special permission to make herbal tea separately from the rest of the class, and I got to tell a lot of people about the Word of Wisdom.”

This incident happened during World War II. I was serving on a four-man agriculture advisory committee to President Franklin Delano Roosevelt and was chief executive officer of the National Council of Farmer Cooperatives, a federation of 4,600 farmers’ marketing organizations located in every state of the Union and in Puerto Rico.
Because of the demands of the war, materials used in farming were in short supply. With the help of the board of directors, we had organized a National Committee for Farm Production Supplies to help focus the attention of heads of government agencies on the needs of farmers. If they were to produce to the maximum, meet the challenge of the president of the United States that “food will win the war,” they must have adequate production supplies.
I had gone to my office at 1731 “I” Street N.W. early to prepare for the meeting at the White House and also the meeting of the committee in the hope that I would get much work done before office hours began and the telephone started ringing.
I had just arrived at my desk when the telephone rang. A total stranger on the other end of the line introduced himself as a prominent businessman from Chicago. He invited me to have lunch with him at a downtown hotel. I told him I was too busy for lunch, but he was so sincere and earnest that I finally agreed, and so at one o’clock I faced him across the luncheon table at the Washington Hotel in downtown Chicago.
After introductions he said, “I suppose you wonder why I have invited you to lunch inasmuch as I am a total stranger.”
I said, “Yes, I have been wondering.”
Then he said this: “Earlier in the week I came out of a businessmen’s luncheon in Chicago and while talking with some of my friends, I told them that I was going to Washington, D.C., to set up an office and hire a young man to take charge of the office and represent our corporation in the nation’s capital. I began telling my business friends the kind of a young man I would like to have represent our firm. I said I would want a young man whose integrity would never be questioned, who was clean in his habits, who would leave liquor alone and was living a clean, moral life. In fact, I would prefer to have a young man who didn’t smoke.”
Then he said, “One of my business associates said, ‘What you want is a returned Mormon missionary.’
“I had heard about the Mormon Church,” he continued, “but I knew very little about their organization or standards. I knew they had missionaries because my wife told me that she had a very pleasant conversation with two young men in dark suits who had called during the day and left literature.”
He added, “As I rode down here on the train last evening, I thought to myself that possibly the suggestion of my business friend had merit. Possibly that’s just the kind of a young man I do want—a returned Mormon missionary. When I registered at the hotel here last evening, I said to the clerk at the desk, ‘Are there any Mormons in Washington?’
“He said, ‘I don’t know. I suppose there are; they seem to be everywhere.’ But I said to him, ‘Do you know any?’ He said, ‘Frankly I can’t say that I do, but Mr. Bush, the manager, is here, and maybe he can help you.’”
Then my new acquaintance said, “I put the question to Mr. Bush and he gave me your name. Now that’s why I’ve invited you to lunch. Can you give me the names of three or four young men who meet the standards I have outlined? I would like to interview them for a job that I think has a great future with a starting salary of some eight or nine thousand dollars.” (In the 1940s the purchasing power of the dollar was about three times what it is today.)
My new-found friend continued, “Our corporation is one of the largest in Chicago and has among its assets the largest hotel in the city.” And he repeated, “Can you give me the names of three or four young men?”
I was happy to tell him, as president of the Washington Stake, that I could not only give him the names of three or four, but ten, or fifteen, or twenty, any one of whom I felt sure would meet the standards that he had outlined.
Yes, it pays for young men, and young women too, to maintain the standards of the Church and be true to the faith.

Concerned because Farmington’s boys were often getting into mischief, Aurelia asked Eliza R. Snow, the sister of Lorenzo Snow, if there should not be an organization to help little boys grow into good men. Sister Snow relayed the suggestion to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, the governing body of the Church following the death of Brigham Young. John Taylor, the President of the Quorum, gave his approval, and Sister Rogers was called upon to organize and serve as the president of the first Primary in the Church. She wisely decided that girls should also be part of the organization, and the first Primary was held in Farmington Ward on August 25, 1878.

One day Tanner was riding his bike with his friend, Cole. Suddenly Cole’s bike crashed to the sidewalk. Tanner saw that his friend had scraped his arm and he was crying.
Right then Tanner had a good idea. He hopped off his bike and asked, “Cole, do you want me to make you something happy?”
Cole didn’t know what Tanner meant. But there on the sidewalk, Tanner did a happy dance. He jumped, kicked, and turned around as he sang, “Do, do, do!”
Cole wasn’t crying anymore. He was laughing so hard that he was rolling on the grass.

Just a couple of months ago I too was great to my friends, but when I came home, I would pick fights over the littlest subjects with my parents. I began to be depressed with my actions. I love my parents very much, and I wanted to find a solution to my problem. I found that prayer, scripture reading, attending and really taking Church meetings to heart, and speaking to my parents about my problem soon led me to the path back to being the real daughter of God that I should have been all along. I’m not perfect yet, but then again, neither is any of us. So just keep trying!
Laura Kim Wright, 17Franklin, Indiana

Recently a missionary was injured during a preparation-day sports activity and was sent home to recover. He had high goals for getting the physical help he needed and then returning to his mission. However, too much unstructured time alone soon led to a relapse of old habits.

He indulged in sin that he thought he had repented of and left behind him before his mission. He was discouraged and upset about his lack of self-control. The more depressed he became, the more he sought escape in those bad habits. It was a downward cycle that was getting him nowhere fast.

“I feel like I’ve let Heavenly Father down,” the young man told his priesthood leader. “I repented of this before, and God forgave me. I promised never to do it again, and yet here I am as if I had never repented in the first place. I don’t deserve God’s forgiveness or help. Not now. Not ever.”

His priesthood leader said, “Then aren’t you glad to know grace is a gift? You don’t have to earn or deserve it. You simply need to choose to receive it by being willing to keep trying and not give up.”8 The leader then shared these words of Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “We may slip back at times, but let us quickly and humbly return to our knees and move again in the right direction.”9

Once more, the young man turned toward heaven, and the Savior was there to help. Not only did the young man’s injury heal, but so did his heart. One small goal at a time, and with the grace made possible by Jesus Christ, he began to improve. Soon he returned to his mission full of gratitude, self-worth, a sense of meaning, satisfaction with life, and optimism. That is the difference Christ’s grace can make.

My husband and I wanted to help our family feel the Spirit more in our family scripture study. We had heard Elder Gene R. Cook, then of the Seventy, suggest singing a hymn before family scripture study, so we decided to implement this counsel. Although our teenage sons were somewhat resistant to the idea, they agreed to give it a try.
The following day I played hymns on our stereo about 30 minutes before our scheduled reading time. What happened next changed everything for us. This music had touched our then 13-year-old son (who had been the most resistant to our initial proposal) to the extent that he wanted to sing all the verses of the hymn, and he even wanted to sing more than one hymn! This same son now relies on the hymns when he is discouraged or tempted.
We use the hymns not only for family scripture study but also at family home evening and on Sundays.
Marci Owen, Utah, USA

Before our fifth son, Lawrence, was born, my wife had complications in labor, and the doctor stayed by her side all day. She also had had a dream that frightened her. She dreamed that two men in black clothes had come to get her, and she feared this may have been a warning she might not make it through the delivery. Late that night the doctor asked me to leave the room so he could examine her again. Greatly concerned about her, I went out into the hall, stood by a window looking over the twinkling lights of the Salt Lake Valley, and, with tears in my eyes, pleaded with the Lord to spare her life.
While I was praying, someone came rushing down the hallway. I saw a nurse run into my wife’s room, then come out, get a cart with a tank of oxygen, and wheel the cart into the room. Now I knew my wife was in great danger. Although I thought I had been praying with all my heart, I suddenly found I could pray with even greater humility and pleading. I promised the Lord I would do anything I was ever asked to do in the Church if he would spare Merlene’s life. The prayer was offered with every particle of my being.
In a few moments the door opened, and they were wheeling her to the delivery room. Lawrence, weighing ten pounds and twelve ounces, was born shortly after, and his mother soon recovered her health. Our prayers had been answered.

Sometimes we think that we have learned all that we need to know about something and that we don’t need to learn the same things over and over. I had an experience that taught me how important it is to be humble and willing to learn the same lessons again and again.
A number of years ago, while teaching at a university, I received an invitation to attend a professional seminar in Dallas, Texas. I was delighted because my wife’s sister lived there with her family. We were able to combine a family vacation with my seminar. When my sister-in-law learned of the seminar’s location, she informed me that the hotel was difficult to locate due to construction in the area. She drew up a map with numerous details to assist me in getting to downtown Dallas.
On the first morning of the seminar, I was extremely careful and gave much attention to the map. Remarkably, I made all the correct turns and arrived safely at the hotel. As I approached the hotel, I realized that it truly had been a difficult route. I knew that without the map, I would have been lost. I was pleased that I had arrived on time and never had to seek directions from anyone.
After the day’s seminar, I drove home, once again closely following the directions on the map. It was even more difficult, as I had to reverse the directions. Again, I was pleased to make all the correct turns and arrive home safely. The drive took more than an hour.
The second morning found me being a little casual about the map, due to my success of the previous day. At times, I even tried to rely solely on my recollections of the previous day’s journey. I arrived at the hotel on time, amazed at my ability to navigate in this unfamiliar city. That day the seminar instructors presented us with two armloads of books and other materials to study in the evening.
When I arrived at my car for the drive home, I tossed the map onto the backseat and put my new materials on the front seat. I started to think that my sister-in-law did not have enough confidence in my ability to drive in this city. I decided that I no longer needed the map.
I had no trouble getting onto the right interstate highway and making the correct exit to the next one. Then I took the right exit to the subdivision where my sister-in-law lived, found the right street without any problems, and parked in front of the house.
I retrieved all my materials from the car and juggled them in my arms as I picked up the evening paper from the lawn. I entered the front door and turned right, walking down the hall to the guest bedroom. I put my books on the dresser, sat down on the bed and removed my shoes, anxious to study my new materials. As I opened my first book, I glanced quickly around the room, then looked again. The furniture had been changed. I thought that my family should have told us that they were changing furniture. I looked more closely at it, thinking that I liked the old bedroom set better than this new one. I stood up and looked across the hall into another bedroom. Two teenage girls were sitting on the bed, talking. I thought that my sister-in-law must be serving in Young Women, as her own children were three young boys. The girls didn’t seem to notice me. I tried to study my materials again, but I couldn’t concentrate. A suspicion was growing in me that I had made a dreadful mistake.
By now you have realized what it took me a long time to figure out: I was in the wrong house, sitting on a stranger’s bed with my shoes off! Somehow I put on my shoes, collected my books and the newspaper, and started down the hall toward the front door. Just before I reached it, I encountered two ladies. “Pardon me,” I said. “I haven’t met you before.” Then I quickly shouted, “I am in the wrong house!” They watched calmly as I bolted through the door and tossed their newspaper onto the lawn where I had retrieved it only minutes before. My heart was beating wildly! I jumped into the car and made my getaway. I had stopped one block short of my destination.
I got myself into this predicament because I became too casual in following the road map. I learned a great principle from this experience: We can do many things right but still leave important things undone and come up a kingdom short. I had made all the correct turns on my journey home, but it was clear that I still needed to pay attention to the map.

Elder Helio da Rocha Camargo, a former member of the Seventy, once told of a ward clerk who sincerely prayed that he would be able to learn what he needed to know to fulfill his calling. At the time, all statistical and financial records were kept manually, without the help of a computer. That month, it seemed every possible problem occurred for this ward clerk: bank statements did not reconcile, records contained incorrect dates, and so on. These problems brought extra and overwhelming work. That clerk went to Heavenly Father in prayer and said, “Father, I asked Thee to help me learn to be a clerk, and then all sorts of problems happened with the records.” The response came quickly to his mind: “And didn’t I help you?”

For Caitlin Carr of Utah, some of the admonitions in her patriarchal blessing weren’t immediately clear, but later study of her blessing yielded new insights.
“When I received my patriarchal blessing, I was warned about people who would try and sway me from the truth with pleasing talk. I didn’t think much of it; I had a firm belief in the doctrines I’d been taught.
“However, the following year I was confronted with ideas and philosophies that, on the surface, seemed rooted in fairness and love but were not. These messages seemed to be coming from everywhere: the media, school, even close friends. Even though I knew these philosophies were contrary to God’s plan, I found myself wanting to support both these new worldly ideas and the Church. I soon realized that ‘no man can serve two masters’ (Matthew 6:24) and that I shouldn’t rely on the wisdom of men. Heavenly Father resolved my doubts through the scriptures and spoke peace to my mind and heart. As a result, my testimony has been strengthened and I have become more firm in defending that which I know to be true.”

I am a cheerleader for a junior football team. During the halftime show we do a dance. My mom heard the music and realized that there were bad words in the song. She found the instrumental version of the song and gave it to my coach so that we could use that version instead. The first game came, and the coach told my mom that the cheerleaders did not have enough time to practice the dance with the instrumental version, and we would have to perform with the bad words in the song. I told my coach I would not be able to dance to the song if the words were still in it. My coach decided to use the instrumental version. We did not do as well because the song was different, but I know that I stood up for what I know is right.

The doctors said she wouldn’t live, but Iris JoAnn Alvarado is thriving. Her faith, and the faith of her family, has preserved her life many times. When her mother was about to give birth to JoAnnie, the stake patriarch came to their home. He felt impressed to give Sister Alvarado a blessing. She didn’t understand then why she needed a blessing, but she did after JoAnnie was born. Her little girl weighed only a little more than four pounds, and the doctors discovered that throughout the pregnancy she had not gotten much oxygen and that the last three months she had probably not received enough nourishment. The Alvarados were told that she would die and that if she didn’t, she would have severe brain damage from the lack of oxygen.
But JoAnnie’s family prayed for her, and their prayers were answered, because she lived. At four months she was standing; at eight months she could walk. When she started talking, it was in short sentences and the words were very clear—there was obviously nothing wrong with her brain. Today, at nine years of age, she continues to excel, getting straight As in all her school classes.

The Thomas J. Pappas Elementary School in Phoenix, Arizona, isn’t a typical school. At the end of the day, students don’t go home, because they don’t have homes. After school, the buses drop them off at various homeless shelters, old hotels, or even under bridges.
When the stake youth committee of the Mesa Central Stake learned about this school, they wanted to do something for the students. They wanted to give them a day of fun and activities, so they planned a carnival with games, sports, and food. But the youth of the stake found that they gained much more than they gave.
On the morning of the activity, anticipation was high. What would students from a homeless school be like? What would they talk about? How would they act?
The youth from the stake were each partnered with a student from the school as a “buddy,” or mentor, for the day. After eating breakfast with their new friends, everyone was divided into groups to rotate through the different activities.
Most of the youth who participated in this activity had the same observation—in their efforts to give, they had received. They came away from the activity more grateful for their blessings. In their efforts to provide a day of entertainment for homeless children, they learned a valuable lesson in gratitude.

When I entered high school, I started going to seminary every evening after school. Beginning in my sophomore year, I became a student-body officer and member of the dance company, and I participated in other extracurricular activities. I had countless meetings and rehearsals and was bombarded with homework and reading assignments.
One day a meeting was held at the same time as my seminary class. The meeting was important, but seminary was much more important; it was an easy decision for me. I immediately told my classmate about seminary and, to my surprise, she got me excused from the meeting so I could go to seminary. After some time, my classmate began asking about seminary. She asked what we did there and what we were learning. I told her and invited her to attend. She was eager and excited. When the time came, she attended the class, where she gained more friends. I found it was really easy to invite my friend to seminary and that by choosing to put seminary first and standing tall, I was able to bring light to someone else.

About a year after my husband and I were married, my youngest brother’s three daughters came to live with us. My husband’s youngest sister and a girlfriend of mine also asked if they could stay with us for a while, and since we didn’t have any children, we welcomed all of them. Suddenly we were no longer just a couple; we were a large family.
Prior to this time, my husband and I were not too serious about holding home evenings because it was just the two of us, but with the new additions to our family, we decided to implement the program earnestly in our home.
From our first family home evening together, our Mondays were never the same, nor will our lives be the same, because of those wonderful experiences. Our usually quiet home started to be filled with music. The children who couldn’t read started to learn and developed a love for it. Those who were shy and hesitant to accept assignments developed confidence and showed eagerness to contribute, even volunteering to do special presentations. There was excitement throughout the week as everyone talked about what we had done the previous Monday night and what we were going to do the next one. Excitement would build as Monday neared and as family members were busy making preparations for their “big surprises.”
The promise of an exciting home evening even became a motivation for all to do their assigned household chores. Each home evening brought insights and discoveries that enriched our lives.
My nieces have since returned to their father, my sister-in-law has moved out on her own, and my girlfriend now lives in a dorm close to the school she’s attending. We’re back to being just a couple again. But we are still having those fun-filled, meaningful home evenings. Sometimes we invite other families to join us, and other times we take pleasure in just getting to know each other better, working out our problems together, and expressing our appreciation for each other. Our themes and activities continue to be simple and focused on meeting our needs.

Records show that she preached on priesthood authority, the Book of Mormon, and other gospel topics. After hearing Emma preach on the life and mission of Joseph Smith, one missionary wrote, “I enjoyed her remarks very much; and was sorry when she stopped speaking.”

Sadly, Emma contracted elephantiasis late in her mission and received an early release. When the women and girls at the school learned that she was returning to Utah, they wept. The Malaela branch held a farewell meeting for her, giving her one last chance to preach. She “spoke quite forcibly,” the minutes of the meeting indicate, “and exhorted all to be true to the gospel.”

Emma herself remained true to the gospel—and her covenants—for the rest of her life. In Utah, she continued her education, participated in the state’s Polynesian community, and consulted on the first Latter-day Saint hymnal in Samoan. At some point, she also met a Hawaiian Saint named Henry Kahalemanu. They were married in the Salt Lake Temple on January 31, 1907.

Three years later, Emma passed away at age 26 and was buried at Iosepa, a settlement of Polynesian Saints 60 miles (97 km) west of Salt Lake City. Although her life was brief, her devotion to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ remains a powerful example for Saints around the world, especially young women who answer the call to serve today.

My mother taught me from a very young age to be hardworking and to serve others. When I was six years old, my family helped in building a new chapel in Porto Alegre, Brazil. Back then, ward members and construction missionaries built the chapels for wards and branches.
I remember going with my family to help build the chapel. I carried bricks from one place to another. I poured water on top of bricks. I carried tools from one workstation to another. I remember working hard and knowing that my hard work would help others.

Melissa looked out the car window, hoping she would be the first one to spot the tall white temple spire. “I love to see the temple. I’m going there … today!” she sang. Finally it was the day she had been waiting for.
“Do you remember how you felt when you became part of our family a year ago?” Dad asked.
Melissa thought for a minute. “I was a little bit scared,” she said. “I had already lived with another foster family, and it’s hard to make changes.”
“We were nervous too,” Mom said. “We knew it was the right thing to become your new foster family, but we weren’t sure how things would turn out.”
“You fit right in, though,” Dad said. “Deciding to adopt you was easy.”
“We’re so grateful that Heavenly Father has blessed us to have you in our family,” Mom said. “Today you will be sealed to us for eternity.”
Melissa was excited and also a little nervous. She didn’t understand everything about the temple. But she knew that the temple was the house of God, and she was happy to become part of a forever family. Sometimes she wondered why she wasn’t just born into this family in the first place.
“There’s the temple!” Melissa and her three brothers called out as the car rounded the corner. In front of them, the statue of angel Moroni rose up through the trees against the bright blue sky.
Inside the temple Melissa and her brothers put on white clothes. Melissa loved her pretty white dress with lace on the front. Then one of the ladies who worked in the temple took them to a room that was just for children. They quietly played a game while they waited.
Then it was time for the sealing!
Melissa and her brothers walked with a temple worker through the halls of the temple. Finally they came to a beautiful room. Melissa gazed at the crystal chandelier in the center of the room and the large mirrors facing each other on two of the walls.
Then Melissa saw her mom and dad waiting for them. Mom’s eyes were sparkling, and Dad’s grin spread across his face.
“You look like an angel,” Mom whispered to Melissa.
“So do you,” Melissa whispered back. She felt reverence, sacredness, and love.
Melissa was invited to kneel at the altar with Mom and Dad. She was then sealed to her parents as part of an eternal family through the power of the priesthood—they could now be together forever and ever.
Melissa couldn’t stop smiling. She was filled with so much joy that she thought she might burst!
Melissa hugged her family tight as they all stood in front of the two mirrors. They could see themselves reflected over and over as far as they could see.
She thought about how she and her family would be together, now and for eternity. She felt love wrapped around her like a warm blanket.
“Thank you, Heavenly Father,” Melissa whispered.