Gospel Story Finder

In August 2003 I started my own company doing painting, gardening, landscaping, and maintenance work. Things aren’t always easy when you have your own company, especially when starting out. At the beginning of one month, Rebeca and I needed to pay rent for our home. We didn’t have a penny. So one morning we prayed that we might somehow obtain the money we needed. Later that day I was hired for a job that paid enough to cover our rent.

The Young Men and Young Women of the Terreton 2nd Ward, Roberts Idaho Stake, collected and made toys for children in Acuna, Mexico.
The Young Women crocheted the clothing for 32 dolls. The Young Men made trucks, slingshots, and sets of blocks. A missionary couple from the Terreton 2nd Ward had been working with the people in this area of Mexico. The couple suggested the service project to the young people, who met the challenge with enthusiasm.

I recently read the account of a man who, just after the passing of his wife, opened her dresser drawer and found there an item of clothing she had purchased when they visited the eastern part of the United States nine years earlier. She had not worn it but was saving it for a special occasion. Now, of course, that occasion would never come.

In relating the experience to a friend, the husband said, “Don’t save something only for a special occasion. Every day in your life is a special occasion.”

That friend later said those words changed her life. They helped her to cease putting off the things most important to her. Said she: “Now I spend more time with my family. I use crystal glasses every day. I’ll wear new clothes to go to the supermarket if I feel like it. The words ‘someday’ and ‘one day’ are fading from my vocabulary. Now I take the time to call my relatives and closest friends. I’ve called old friends to make peace over past quarrels. I tell my family members how much I love them. I try not to delay or postpone anything that could bring laughter and joy into our lives. And each morning, I say to myself that this could be a special day. Each day, each hour, each minute, is special.”

Imagine waking up to the smell of smoke, the sound of screams and gunshots, the sights of looting and beating. Imagine racially inspired violence so dangerous that schools close and curfews are imposed for days.
This tragic scenario might seem like something you’d see in a movie—the kind your parents and leaders would probably recommend you avoid—but during late April and early May this year LDS youth in the Los Angeles area actually lived it. They saw the rioting. They knew people who looted. They watched familiar buildings burn to the ground.
Yet even while the ashes were still smoldering, the Young Women of the Los Angeles area were busy putting the finishing touches on a long-planned multistake conference that would unite nearly 500 LDS young women of various ethnic backgrounds and affirm that the gospel offers peace to everyone.
The six-hour conference featured an address from Young Women General President Janette Hales. Her message focused on how the fundamentals of personal religious behavior, things like reading the scriptures, praying, and keeping the commandments, can get you through life’s trials and keep you close to Heavenly Father, no matter what is going on in the world around you.
The conference also included 15 workshops covering subjects like dating, preparing for a mission, self-defense, sign language, and baby-sitting. It was just what the doctor ordered for the girls after the tragedy of the weeks before. But the memories for some of the young women were still vivid.
“We went to the store before they burned it to get some food,” said Virginia Smith of the Inglewood Stake. “It was crowded. All of a sudden people were screaming and running to the back. Someone said there were people there with guns. So my mom said to get on the floor, ’cuz if they shoot, they’re not going to shoot down there. Then someone said they went out. The next chance we got, we headed for the door, got in our car, and left.”
Lisa Fu, of the Santa Monica Stake, was also affected. “I could see the looting in the morning when I went out. I have some friends who actually did it—just for their own benefit—because everyone else was doing it. We said to those kids who were taking groceries, ‘You just stole! Don’t you know what you did?’ And they said, ‘Yes, but we don’t know if there’s going to be a store tomorrow to buy food, so we have to get what we can now.’
“And sometimes I’d get really scared to walk by certain people because of the Korean incident. (A 15-year-old black girl was shot in a dispute with a Korean store owner.) Because they don’t know if I’m Japanese or Korean or what.”

One cloudy day when she was fourteen, Anna raced off to school in her usual hurry, forgetting her umbrella. After school that day it began to rain. At the gate Anna fell and sprained her ankle. Doctors in those days didn’t have the benefit of X-ray machines, and sometimes mistakes were made in the treatment of bones and ligaments. For the rest of her life Anna was crippled. At times she could walk a little, but much of the time she was an invalid.

Lohran sought to learn God’s will through fasting and prayer. That very week, he noticed the recently delivered issue of the New Era magazine in his home, and he began thumbing through it. He was attracted to the article “Ice Dreams,” about ice skater Chris Obzansky, who interrupted a promising skating career to serve a mission at age 19, losing the opportunity to compete in the 2006 Winter Olympics.
One passage in particular caught Lohran’s attention: as Chris was in sacrament meeting listening to his Young Men president talk about his own mission call, the Spirit told Chris, “You need to serve a mission when you’re 19, or you’re going to have a tough life.” Chris said, “The message was so clear I actually turned around to see if someone was there. The feeling came back 10 times stronger, and I knew I had to go on a mission.”1
Lohran smiles. “When I read that, I felt it had been written for me. Age 19 is the age prescribed by the Lord. I realized that was the answer I needed, and it was like an enormous weight was taken off my back.” The time for Lohran to serve a mission was now. He talked to his bishop, made the necessary preparations, and never looked back. “It was not even difficult to make the decision of leaving soccer behind,” he says, “for I knew it was the right time to do it.”
Lohran served in his country’s capital, in the Brazil Brasília Mission. He was known as “Elder Happy” because of his contagious enthusiasm. “I am exceptionally happy serving people, sharing with them what I know is true,” he says. “It is so gratifying to see people change their lives after learning the gospel.”
Like all missionaries, though, he experienced his share of hardships. “Obviously, missionary life is not all fun,” he says. “There are difficulties, moments of weakness and loneliness, but all that is next to nothing compared to the treasures of a mission. These are years I’ll never forget, that I’ll always have in my mind and, more important, my heart.”
A few months ago he finished serving a successful mission. Now that he’s home, he has joined a soccer team in Rio de Janiero and believes more chances to continue his soccer career will come his way. With faith he says, “I am now waiting for the opportunities to come, opportunities that our Heavenly Father will bless me to enjoy.”

Monica Chavez lived with her mother and father, her sisters Maria and Linda, and her baby brother, Tomas. Her grandmother lived next door. Just around the bend in the road lived her Aunt Juanita and her family, and her Uncle Esteban and his family. Uncle Roberto lived with his family in town, a few miles away. Her grandmother, aunts, uncles, and father were all members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But none of them went to Church very often. Monica’s mother belonged to a different church, but she didn’t go to her church very often, either.
Sometimes Grandmother would take Monica and some of the other grandchildren to church. The children liked to go, but everyone else there spoke only English. Although Monica and the other grandchildren spoke both English and Spanish, Grandmother spoke only Spanish, and she didn’t understand the speakers at church, so she didn’t go very often. When Grandmother wasn’t going, Monica asked her father to take her, but he always said that he and her uncles were too tired from working so hard all week. They wanted to stay home and rest on Sunday.
Then something happened that changed everything. Two sister missionaries came to visit Monica’s grandmother. Missionaries had visited before, but these two sisters were different—they spoke both English and Spanish! The missionaries talked with Monica’s grandmother about her family. They made plans to visit all the aunts and uncles and their children. Then they encouraged Grandmother Chavez to come to church with her grandchildren.
That Sunday Grandmother Chavez did take the grandchildren to church. The missionaries helped her understand what was being said. The people at church shook the Chavezes’ hands and smiled at them, and some even learned to say “Buenos dias (Good morning)” and “Bienvenida (Welcome)” to Grandmother.
When church was over, Monica heard Grandmother talking with the missionaries in Spanish. “Monica is eight years old,” she said. “She is old enough and wants to be baptized. But I don’t know how to tell the branch president.”
“Baptism is an important step,” Sister Farmer said. “The branch president knows that Monica is old enough to be baptized, but he wants to be sure that Monica is ready for it and also that her parents are ready to help her keep the promises that she will make when she is baptized.”
“In fact, that’s why we’re here,” Sister Johnson added. “Because we speak Spanish, the branch president asked us to help Monica and her family get ready for this important step.”
“Would you like to learn more about the Church, Monica?” Sister Farmer asked her in English, because she knew that Monica understood English better than Spanish.
“Oh yes! I like to come to church, and I want to be baptized.” Monica was very excited. She had wanted to be baptized for a long time.
The missionaries arranged to meet with Monica and her parents at Grandmother Chavez’s house. When they had all arrived, the missionaries taught Monica a lesson about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. They told her about Joseph Smith’s vision and about how he translated the Book of Mormon, and they gave her a Book of Mormon. When the missionaries taught her, they spoke in English to her, then in Spanish to her grandmother. It made Monica feel very good when the sisters explained things to her in a way that she could understand.
Sister Johnson gave a Book of Mormon in Spanish to Monica’s mother and father and invited them to come to church.
Grandmother Chavez invited the sisters to a family barbeque to meet all of Monica’s aunts and uncles and cousins. In the following weeks the missionaries came many times to teach Monica and her relatives. Grandmother, Monica, and some of the other grandchildren started going to church every week, and sometimes Monica’s parents went with them.
Once, when Monica’s mother went, someone said to her in a friendly way, “If you think that the Church is good for Monica, don’t you think that it would be good for you too? Why don’t you prepare to be baptized with Monica?”
Monica’s mother didn’t understand everything that the man had said, so Sister Farmer explained in Spanish. Monica’s mother had listened to the missionary lessons many years before, but because they were in English, she hadn’t really understood them. She knew that these missionaries would help her understand the gospel in her own language, so she agreed to have them teach her.
One day the sisters asked Monica’s mother to pray to know if she should be baptized, and she did. She read the scriptures every day, too, and one night she had a dream. In the dream she was looking for white clothes to wear to her baptism. She felt very happy and peaceful. When she woke up, she knew that Heavenly Father had answered her prayer.
The day before Monica’s ninth birthday, Monica and her mother were baptized. Her aunts and uncles and cousins and father and grandmother came—so did many people from the branch. It was a very happy day for everyone, but most of all for Monica and her mother.
There were some people in the branch who thought that the Chavez family wouldn’t attend church regularly. “Wait and see,” Sister Johnson and Sister Farmer said.
Monica’s family went to church every Sunday with her grandmother. Aunt Juanita and her family, and Uncle Roberto’s family went too. After Sister Johnson and Sister Farmer left, other Spanish-speaking missionaries came, and all the Chavez relatives helped the missionaries teach other Spanish-speaking families about the Church. Soon there were Sunday School classes in both English and Spanish, and the tiny branch began to grow. Many people came to know how happy the gospel could make them. And it all started with Monica.

However, I would like to tell you about one Weston High School student who was too busily engaged in other pursuits to become involved with drugs or alcohol. This young man spent a lot of time on the ski slopes. Being an avid skier in New England is not unusual, but what this boy did with his talent is unusual. He was an expert skier and loved the sport. In fact, he was an instructor and spent even his spare time teaching others to ski. You could regularly see him coming down the mountainside very close to one of his pupils, who was oftentimes years older than he. They would start slowly but gather speed as they made graceful turns down the slope, all the time carrying on a conversation, laughing, enjoying the invigorating air and the sparkling sunshine. Observers would take note and follow the pair with their eyes until they reached the bottom, regarding them as just two more skiers having a great time.
What the onlookers did not realize was that one of the skiers was blind. This young Weston High School student was teaching the blind to ski. He did it free of charge. When he first had the idea, he discussed it with others and was advised by all to forget it. He was told over and over that it would simply be impossible.
But this young man had witnessed the hopelessness of some of the blind people and wanted to share with them one of the pleasures of his life. He wanted them to have a feeling of accomplishment and success. He wished to give them a new dimension to their lives. He wanted them to feel that they were real, whole individuals. He really cared. He cared enough to devote the time necessary to develop a rapport of love, encouragement, and understanding with these people to help them build faith in themselves and in their own abilities. Gradually mutual friendships blossomed.
These blind people placed their trust in this young man. He was their friend. He was the only one they would permit to put on their boots and snap them into their bindings. In their training, he said that helping them develop an attitude of trust and faith in themselves was the important thing. After that, the technique would come easily.
The last I heard, he had been successful in teaching 13 blind people to ski and was in the process of teaching more. He had even been requested to write a manual on teaching the blind to ski. He possessed then, and I am sure he still does, the confidence which comes with success. But more importantly, he has developed lasting friendships and has learned how to love and share through worthwhile service.

Then we received a referral from Salt Lake City and baptized another man—the first black man to be baptized in our area. He told us he had prayed for a long time for the Lord to send someone to him who could tell him which was the true church. He told us that when we first knocked on his door, he saw a light shining around us—and right then he knew that his prayers had been answered. He was baptized shortly after that.

When I was a young boy, my greatest desire was to play basketball. Fortunately, I had a father who was anxious to see that his son’s desire was met. Dad and I would practice the basics of passing and dribbling the basketball hour after hour in our small kitchen. I would listen to college basketball games on the radio and dream of playing college ball someday. Serving a mission was far from my mind at that time; consequently, I spent very little effort in missionary preparation. In an attempt to ensure some balance in my life, my dad—who had not held a Church calling in many years—accepted the call to serve as my Scoutmaster. He operated by the book, and due to his diligence, some of my friends and I became Eagle Scouts. I realize now that Scouting is great preparation for a mission.

When my family moved here in August 2016 as part of the U.S. military, we were overwhelmed with new weather and a new culture, but we also met wonderful people and began to experience the strong presence of the gospel here.
After we adjusted to our new ward for a few weeks, our bishop invited us to attend the Talofofo Group, located in the village of Talofofo, several miles away from the chapel. Here a group of faithful saints met outside under a canopy each Sunday.
There were many challenges when meeting outside: the heat, dogs, rain, mud, mosquitos, ants, chickens, and so on. Regardless of these challenges, I have never felt the Spirit so strongly before. It reminds me of how the Saints in the time of Joseph Smith met outdoors in open weather, lacking necessities, with many distractions.
The Saints in the group feel like family, and I love each one of them as my brothers and sisters.

May I relate a personal experience from the Peterson family. Several years ago after wrestling with the problem for some time, my wife and I, sensing the urgency of our parental charge, devised a new battle plan. You see, up to that point, Satan had been winning the battle of “Should we or should we not read the scriptures together in the Peterson home?” We had tried off and on for years with no sustained success. Our big problem was that someone or something always interrupted our schedule. With a 17-year spread in our children’s ages, we felt we had a special challenge.
As we studied and prayed over it, we concluded that the best time for our family of girls to read would be when no one else wanted our time. Since the older girls had to be in seminary by 7:00 a.m., our controllable time had to be early. We decided on 6:15 in the morning. We knew it would be a challenge to get teenage support. The idea was good, but its implementation was most difficult and it still is. Our family is still struggling.
Our great new plan had its birth one hot August day in Phoenix, Arizona. My wife suggested we give them a whole month to think about it and prepare for it. We went about their mental preparation in a very positive way. The plan was to start the first day of school in early September. To their protests that it was impossible to have their heads all filled with rollers in time, or that it was not likely they would feel happy so early in the morning, or that they might be late to seminary, or not have time to eat breakfast either, we replied very cheerfully that we knew they were clever enough to cope with any minor problems that might arise.
At its announcement, we also told the girls we had been praying for guidance in this family problem. This made it easier, because they had been schooled in prayer and had been taught not to question its results.
The historic first morning finally came. My wife and I got up a little early so we would be sure to be wide awake and happy. Our initial approach must meet with success. We entered each bedroom singing and happy at the thought of the prospects before us. Purposely we went to one special bedroom first. Here slept a daughter who would be able to get up early but who couldn’t wake up before noon. We sat her up in bed and then went to the others and started them all into the family room. Some stumbled, some fell, some had to be carried in, some slept through that first morning—and I might say through subsequent mornings too.
Little by little, we have learned over the years what reading the scriptures 15 minutes each morning can do for our family. You should know that we don’t try to discuss and understand each point we read. We try to pick out only a couple of thoughts each morning to digest. You should also know we still have to struggle with the plan’s performance, even though we now have only two children at our home.
Can you imagine how a parent would feel to ask a little girl, “What did King Benjamin mean when he said, ‘When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God’?” (Mosiah 2:17.) And she would respond, “I suppose he means that I shouldn’t be selfish and should do little things for my sisters because it makes Heavenly Father happy—and Daddy, I want him to be happy with me, so I’m going to try harder.” Innumerable are the blessings that will accrue to the family that persists in this noble effort of reading the scriptures together daily.

Louisa Lula Greene Richards was 23 years old when she was called to be the editor of the Women’s Exponent, a Church paper established in 1872. It served as a medium for LDS women to righteously represent themselves against unfriendly comments and gross misrepresentations and defend the principles and doctrines of their faith. This timid, retiring young woman lacked confidence in her capabilities, but she possessed implicit faith in her Heavenly Father’s power and goodness. So prayerfully and with reluctance she consented to accept the call from the prophet and became one of the first woman journalists in Utah.

“I was a little freaked out [after the announcement] because I am not an athletic person whatsoever,” Kendra C., one of the YCLs at camp, said. “I’m terrible at sports. I’m just not coordinated enough to do it.”
After the initial “freak-out,” Kendra decided to at least try the Fit Challenge so she could keep up with the other young women when they ran the 5K. Though she didn’t suddenly come to love physical activity, she was surprised to realize that exercise was actually fun for her.
“I had to find something I enjoyed,” Kendra said. “Exercise shouldn’t be something that you don’t look forward to, that you’re afraid of. Finding something you like, whether it be dancing, walking or running, or playing a sport, is key. For me, yoga and Pilates make me feel really good.”

It is instructive that the second Latter-day Saint connection with the Titanic did not have a happy mortal ending. Irene Corbett was 30 years old. She was a young wife and mother from Provo, Utah. She had significant talents as an artist and musician; she was also a teacher and a nurse. At the urging of medical professionals in Provo, she attended a six-month course of study on midwife skills in London. It was her great desire to make a difference in the world. She was careful, thoughtful, prayerful, and valiant. One of the reasons she chose the Titanic to return to the United States was because she thought the missionaries would be traveling with her and that this would provide additional safety. Irene was one of the few women who did not survive this terrible tragedy. Most of the women and children were placed in the lifeboats and were ultimately rescued. There were not enough lifeboats for everyone. But it is believed that she did not get in the lifeboats because, with her special training, she was attending to the needs of the numerous passengers who were injured from the iceberg collision.

The lost opportunity might relate to family, occupation, talents, experiences, or others. All of these were cut short in the case of Sister Corbett. There were songs she did not sing and potential she did not fulfill in this mortal life. But when we look through the wide and clear lens of the gospel instead of the limited lens of mere mortal existence, we know of the great eternal reward promised by a loving Father in His plan. As the Apostle Paul taught, “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.” A line from a beloved hymn provides comfort, solace, and the clear lens: “And Jesus listening can hear the songs I cannot sing.”

One night at the very peak of her anxiety, this young mother rose from her bed, went into the other room, and talked to her Father in Heaven. She had remembered an incident in her own childhood. A great and noble woman had prayed in behalf of her afflicted husband and requested that, if the Lord were willing, she be allowed to carry her husband’s infirmities so that his service to the Lord would not be restricted. This sister, almost immediately, became stone deaf and remained so throughout her life, while her husband, miraculously healed, became a spiritual giant, a man of God, and a powerful leader in building the kingdom of God in that area. With the memory of this incident in her heart, this faithful mother supplicated the Father in her son’s behalf, asking if she might take her son’s infirmities upon herself. Of this incident she concluded, “I returned to my bed and went to sleep.”

When I was growing up, my body struggled with gamma globulin anemia. I had a hard time fighting off germs, so I got sick a lot.
One night I woke up with painful earaches. They hurt so badly that I thought my head was going to explode! I remember my mother and father coming into my room. My mother sat on the side of the bed and cradled me in her arms. Then my father placed his hands on my head and gave me a priesthood blessing. In that blessing, He told me that my Father in Heaven knew me. He was aware of my pain. He would bless me to sleep through the rest of the night.
I soon relaxed, fell asleep, and slept through the night and late into the morning. When I woke up, my ears felt better. But it still took several years before I was completely healed from my illness.
Over the next several years, my father continued to give me priesthood blessings to give me strength. He taught me that those blessings were opportunities for Heavenly Father to speak to me. My sickness became a way for Heavenly Father to help my faith to grow.

“Remember a long long time ago when you were just a little kid?” I mused. “Well, you couldn’t, of course, because you were only about 18 months old, but it was the night after Robby was born in the old Dee Hospital on 24th Street. Anyway, you and I were the only ones home, and I guess it was about midnight or later. I came into your room to see if you were covered up, if everything was okay. The light from the hall was shining on your face a little, and there you were, wide awake as could be, just looking up at me and smiling—like right now. So I sat down on the edge of our old rocker, and we looked at each other. That’s all we did. We were all alone, just looking at each other through the bars of that crib—looking into each other—for maybe 15 minutes. And you know something?” I paused. “That was one of the neatest experiences your old dad has ever had.”

After a Stake Conference that I was asked to preside over, the Stake President introduced me to a wonderful and courageous young single adult woman. I learnt that just weeks before serving a mission she was diagnosed with a severe and acute form of cancer. She had undergone painful, lengthy and invasive treatments that left physical and emotional scars.
I could see and feel her anguish. My heart wept for her. She was in tears as she questioned why this happened to her as she had such a strong desire to serve the Lord. “How should I go on to live the rest of my life with so much uncertainty?” she asked. I invited her to treat every day of her life as a gift from God. After all, none of us know when our Heavenly Father will call us home. If we live and love every day we have breath and place ourselves in the service of our God we will feel blessed, even in our trials and tribulations. I shared some personal things with her that I learnt about turning to God and finding joy in my own afflictions. The Spirit moved me to invite her to consciously step outside of herself and I urged her to pray for mindful eyes. That she may see through the eyes of the Saviour the trials of others and be a blessing to them every day of her life.
Our perspective of our own lives will change when we strive to serve others. Our bitter cup will become blessed and sweeter as we strive to shift from a “Why do I suffer?” to a “How can I serve?” mindset. We will feel supported by angels and experience the healing power of the Saviour more abundantly in our lives.
In Mark 5, we read of a woman who had suffered for 12 years with an issue of blood. Her condition not only affected her health, but also left her socially isolated. She must have been desperate. When she heard of Jesus, she believed that touching His robe would make her whole. In faith, she reached out and touched it. Jesus turned and looked for her saying: “Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace, and be whole of thy plague.” Now here is the remarkable thing, she wasn’t just physically healed, she was “made whole”, restored spiritually, mentally, emotionally and socially.
Jesus Christ offers more than just comfort or healing, He offers wholeness. We may all carry unseen burdens: pain, illness, grief, addiction, doubt, guilt or shame. We may feel broken and in need to be made whole. When we reach toward Heaven in our anguish, and cry unto the Lord in an earnest faith-filled prayer, He hears us, meets us where we are, and makes us whole.
The deeper meaning of wholeness is to be complete, at peace and aligned with our Heavenly Father. Through the Saviour’s atonement we can all overcome physical and spiritual death and be made whole.
My wife Kirsty and I took part in the 2022 international FSY in Germany. One FSY song from that year has stuck with me the most. It’s called “Healer”. These are the words of the refrain: “He’s the healer, The deliv’rer From all pains, from all burdens and scars. When you’re hurting, Find His mercy, And He will fix ev’ry piece of your heart.” I find it hard to sing along without getting emotional and shedding tears. Oh, how I need the Saviour to abide with me and make me whole! As we walk the covenant path with faith together, the Saviour walks with us. His invitation is the same for all of us: “Come unto Me”. He knows your heart. He knows the burdens you carry. And He alone can make you truly whole.

At the age of eight I was baptized in borrowed white trousers. They were too long, but my mother tucked the legs up and fastened them with a few stitches. This worked fine until they got wet. As I stepped out of the water the weight of the wet cloth broke the stitches. I tripped over my borrowed pants and fell to my knees. The thought immediately came to me that this was a reminder to always kneel and pray for the help of our Heavenly Father in everything.