Gospel Story Finder

Another of the great blessings of my life has been to feel the closeness of heaven during those moments when I sit at the bedside of people as they pass away. Early one morning some years ago, I entered the hospital room of a faithful Latter-day Saint widow who had cancer. Two of her daughters were sitting with her. As I went to her bedside, I quickly discovered that she was no longer suffering, because she had just died.

In that moment of death, the room was filled with peace. Her daughters had a sweet sadness, but their hearts were filled with faith. They knew that their mother was not gone but had returned home.23 Even in our moments of deepest grief, in the moments when time stands still and life seems so unfair, we can find comfort in our Savior because He suffered as well.24 It was a privilege for me to be in that room.

For a number of years, while I had responsibility for the work of the Church in Asia, I interviewed each missionary one-on-one. I asked each what virtue he or she saw in his or her companion and would like to put into his or her own life.
When I raised that question, almost invariably the missionary, an elder for example, would stop with a surprised look on his face. He had never thought of his companion that way before. He had seen his faults and weaknesses but had not seen his virtues. I would tell him to pause and think about it for a minute. Then the answers would begin to come. Such answers as, “He’s a hard worker.” “He gets up in the morning.” “He dresses neatly.” “He doesn’t complain.”
It was a remarkable thing, really. These young men and women, for the most part, had been oblivious to the virtues of their companions, although they were well aware of their companions’ faults, and often felt discouraged because of them. But when they began to turn their attitudes around, remarkable things began to happen.

Matthew told the congregation that in his family’s discussion of a “perfect day,” “we came to understand the need to perfect ourselves a little each and every day. For some months, my wife Joan has been very ill, and her illness has affected the entire family. We have come to rely upon the Lord more and to daily seek his guidance, and we have come to better recognize and understand the power of the priesthood. For our ‘perfect day,’ we agreed that we continually need to be supportive of each other, and to live worthy of the blessings we receive.”

The greatest Christmas present I ever received came early one Christmas morning. At some point during the night the furnace in our house had gone out, and there was no heat for us on that snowy morning. We huddled in blankets close to the Christmas tree and opened presents. While it wasn’t physically the warmest Christmas ever, it was one of the most memorable, as we spent time together trying to keep each other warm and enjoying each other’s company.
—Kasen Christensen

Today is Elena’s turn to be the special helper at school!
“Good morning, Special Helper!”
The special helper gets to pick up Mrs. Glen’s blue folder from the office.
Elena gets to choose a friend to go with her.
“I pick Ruby!”
She gets to be the first in line to go to the library.
She even gets to show the class her favorite toy.
“This is Puga. She’s named after a dog my dad had, growing up in Brazil!”
It’s time to pick another friend to help take the blue folder back to the office.
Who should I choose?
Maggie? Josh? Emiko?
No one ever picks Lucas. Maybe that would make him happy!
“I pick Lucas!”
Elena likes helping her teacher. And she likes helping her friends too.

One year, my dad got sick with rheumatic fever and couldn’t work. It was at the critical time of year for planting the crops. In Idaho the growing season is short, so you have to plant your crops at the right time to be able to get a harvest before the winter sets in. It was a significant problem that my dad was sick.
I remember looking out the window and seeing tractors and equipment coming from all different directions. Our neighbors had come to help us. By the end of the day, they had prepared and planted all of our fields. I know that the Lord’s plan of helping each other and taking care of those in need is true, and I know it works.

Just the other night we had the opportunity to attend a baptismal service in the ward meetinghouse where Rachel, a great-granddaughter, was baptized. A few nights before that, Richard, a great-grandson, had been baptized. I had the opportunity to look at them and talk to them and squeeze them and see that sparkle in their eye and of the light of the gospel that seemed to fill their heart and soul. They were so excited about the idea of being baptized to become official members of the Church. Their families had taught them true gospel principles. I remember when I said, “Richard,” as we shook hands, “give me a real missionary handshake.” And with that little eight-year-old hand he almost squeezed my fingers off. As he did it, I said, “Richard, you’ll be a great missionary, just as little Rachel will be a great member of the Church in her right.”
On that same occasion we had an opportunity to stand in the circle and to have young Peter Jr. receive the Aaronic Priesthood and to hear his father give him the blessings of the priesthood. And those of us who were older had the chance to stand in the circle and to sense the meaning of the occasion and to feel of it and to know that all present were part of our family.

In 1994 a horrific genocide occurred in Rwanda. Between 600,000 and 900,000 people were killed in a matter of 60 to 90 days.
Eventually, the Church established a branch in the capital city of Kigali. The branch was doing well—without full-time missionaries. In 2011 we were serving in the Africa Southeast Area when we learned, sadly, that our registration as a church with the country of Rwanda was invalid, which meant that we were functioning illegally as a church. We also learned that our meetinghouse, a converted two-story home, was not appropriately zoned to hold Church meetings. The Area Presidency, in consultation with our first contact in the Quorum of the Twelve, made the agonizing decision to close the branch. Our members were no longer able to meet for Church meetings.
Lawyers in Kigali, Salt Lake City, and Johannesburg, South Africa, began working fervently to resolve the problems. All the while, the Saints kept asking when they could meet together again. Months went by without resolution or progress.
After about 10 months, we flew to Kigali to visit those Saints and try to buoy up their spirits. Before we did, we asked that the matter be placed on the temple prayer roll of the weekly meeting of the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve.
The Tuesday before our scheduled trip from Johannesburg to Kigali, we were notified that, in a surprising move, the government had granted the Church provisional registration in Kigali. Then on Thursday of the same week, the zoning commission granted an exemption from the zoning ordinance. The Kigali Saints could once again meet in our building without violating the law.
This was miraculous! Members were quickly notified that the branch would be meeting on Sunday. We arrived on Friday and invited members to come to church. When Sunday came, all the members—all of them—and many of their friends came to church. They arrived early, eager to be together again. As the sacrament was blessed and passed, we all experienced an extraordinary renewing, refreshing, and cleansing spirit.
We remember, in the meeting, wondering why we did not feel this same spirit every week as we partook of the sacrament. We looked around at the Saints and realized that they had come hungering and thirsting for the sacrament. Their faith, diligence, and patience brought all of us blessings. We pledged that whenever we again partook of the sacrament, we would remember this experience with the Kigali Saints. We committed that we too would hunger for the blessings of partaking of the sacrament.

I will always remember the sight of the temple the day I arrived to receive my endowment. I was filled with deep respect and reverence. I was humbled by the thought that I would go inside and make sacred covenants with my Father in Heaven.
I had arrived dressed in my Sunday best, knowing that my outward appearance reflected my inward respect for the house of the Lord.
“Welcome to the temple,” I was greeted as I showed my recommend and walked inside. Everything about the temple was beautiful. It felt like a piece of heaven on earth, and the friendly temple workers seemed like angels.
I remained in awe at the Spirit I felt. While I didn’t immediately understand everything that was taking place, I did realize the importance of the covenants I was making. It was clear to me why my bishop had spoken of the temple the way he had. The endowment I was receiving would extend not only far beyond the two years of my mission but even into the eternities. More meaningful to me than any of the advice I had received from various people was a scripture I had read as part of my preparation, “And that all people who shall enter upon the threshold of the Lord’s house may feel thy power, and feel constrained to acknowledge that thou hast sanctified it, and that it is thy house, a place of thy holiness” (D&C 109:13). I knew that the temple was the Lord’s house, sanctified and holy. I went expecting to feel God’s love, and I did.

Several months ago, a stake president and I visited a sister in his stake and her young adult son. After years away from the Church, wandering difficult and unfriendly paths, she had returned. During our visit, we asked her why she had come back.
“I had made a mess of my life,” she said, “and I knew where I needed to be.”
I then asked her what she had learned in her journey.
With some emotion, she shared that she had learned that she needed to attend church long enough to break the habit of not coming and that she needed to stay until it was where she wanted to be. Her return was not easy, but as she exercised faith in the Father’s plan, she felt the Spirit return.
And then she added, “I have learned for myself that God is good and that His ways are better than mine.”

Some years ago such a precious seed was planted in fertile soil in Germany.
Robert Frederick Lippolt, his wife, and daughters lived in a small city in Central Germany. Robert, a house painter, provided a moderate living for his family. One Sunday, while on her way to the Protestant church, Robert’s wife was approached by Mormon missionaries, who invited her to attend sacrament meeting. She attended and was impressed.
After subsequent visits by the missionaries, she was baptized and became active in the Church. From the moment of his wife’s baptism, her husband grew in animosity and bitterness toward the Church. Their daughters were also baptized, resulting in more bitterness.
Robert could bear the Mormons no longer; he moved his family from Germany to Vera Cruz, Mexico, and then on to Porto Alegre, Brazil. As soon as they were settled, Robert’s wife continued to spread the news of the gospel. She was causing excitement in Brazil, for the doctrine that she preached was completely new.
Bitterness filled Robert. He hated the Mormons. He prevented his children from going to public school, for fear they would learn to read and would thus be further indoctrinated with Mormon literature.
Finally, in desperation, he took his family away from civilization to the interior of Brazil. They settled in the remote, peaceful valley of Ipomeia, in the state of Santa Catarina.
Filled with a burning testimony and a desire to share the “good news,” Robert’s faithful wife wrote to the mission president in Germany, who in turn referred her to the Argentine Mission president. She asked that he visit Brazil. President Reinhold Stoof visited Brazil in 1927 and reported that much success could be realized among the German-speaking people of Brazil.
From the tiny seeds sown by missionaries in Germany and carried across the Atlantic, the First Presidency established a mission in Brazil in February 1935. The work now flourishes. Hundreds, then thousands heard the good news. Now there are four missions in Brazil and four stakes of Zion.
Even Robert Frederick, the once bitter husband and father, was eventually touched by the seed of truth, for at the age of 83 he was carried in his wooden rocking chair to the nearby River Rio de Peixe and baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. How could one ever describe the deep abiding love of Robert’s faithful wife for the gospel and for her family?

As a witness of the Lord Jesus Christ, I bear witness of the Book of Mormon that led me to Him. I found the Lord Jesus Christ within the covers of the Book of Mormon as a 19-year-old missionary, walking through the rain and the mud of England, riding a bike with mud clear up the back of my coat and over the top of my head, tracting in cities that had never been opened, with baptisms that did not come for a long time. Those nights I went back to No. 3 Gilmore Road and read and read and wept. I knew that Jesus was the Christ, that the Book of Mormon was true, that the gospel had been restored. If the folks in England didn’t understand that, then I would just keep knocking on their doors until they did.

My name is Emma, and I am six years old. I love to read the Friend with my little brother, Dallas, who is four. We especially enjoy reading the stories at the back where children share stories about how they are trying to be like Jesus. We cut them out and save them in a special folder so we can read them again and again. The other day, Dallas and I did something that our mother said was following the example of Jesus Christ.
Our mother was feeling very sad. I wanted to help her, but I didn’t know what I could do so she could feel better. Then I remembered that I should try to be like Jesus. Jesus comforts those who are sad. I went over to where my mother was sitting, gently put my arms around her, and held her to my shoulder. She looked up and told me that she felt special to know how much I love and care about her.
Then Dallas came into the room and asked what was wrong. Mother explained that she was feeling sad. He also hugged her and softly said, “Mommy, Jesus felt sad, too, when the men put nails in His hands. They were mean and spit on Him and laughed at Him. I love you, Mommy.” Mother sat up and wiped away her tears. Then she told Dallas and me that she didn’t feel sad anymore, because we had reminded her that Jesus loves us and that He had suffered more than anyone. We felt good knowing that we had helped Mother by following the example of Jesus.

Books and papers fell to the floor when Becky bumped into Sister Chapman in the hall. “Oh my,” Sister Chapman said as she picked up her books. Lauren quickly helped Becky gather the papers. “Thanks,” Sister Chapman said with a smile. The girls smiled back. Lauren liked her new Valiant teacher.
When they got to class, Meagan was there. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Sister Chapman told her. Then she turned to Lauren. “Since Meagan missed last week’s lesson,” she said, “can you retell the story of the good Samaritan?”
Lauren noticed that everyone was waiting for her to answer.
“Let me tell the story,” Becky begged. “We’ll be here all day if we wait for Lauren.”
Lauren looked down as Sister Chapman said, “Becky, I think you owe Lauren an apology.”
“Sorry,” Becky muttered.
Lauren felt better when Sister Chapman started to tell the story. Her voice soothed Lauren, and the story brought tears to her eyes. Some of her tears were for the poor man lying in the road; the rest were for herself. Why can’t I remember the scripture stories? she wondered.
“Today in opening exercises, we sang ‘Search, Ponder, and Pray,’” Sister Chapman continued. “Did you notice that we were singing about having a testimony of the scriptures? Think to yourselves: Do I have a testimony? Do I know the scriptures are true?”
Caught in the moment, Lauren nodded her head.
“Lauren, how could you have a testimony?” Becky scoffed. “You can’t even remember last week’s lesson! You have to know the scriptures to have a testimony.”
“Our testimonies are very personal, Becky,” Sister Chapman gently corrected her. “We can’t say someone else does or doesn’t have a testimony. But we can know if we have one personally.”
At the end of class, Sister Chapman handed out the next week’s scripture reading assignment and asked, “Is there anything else anyone wants to talk about?”
Meagan raised her hand. “I want to thank my Valiant Secret Pal—the cookies were great!”
“You, too?” asked Sister Chapman. “When I was sick this week, someone left cookies and a card on my doorstep. It was signed ‘Your Valiant Secret Pal.’ I wonder who it is …” Sister Chapman looked around the room. “Well,” she added, “whoever it is understood last week’s lesson. Jesus Christ taught us to help the sick. Someone was really listening and put into action what he or she had learned. I’d say we have a good Samaritan right here in our Valiant class.”
That night for scripture study, Lauren’s dad read from the New Testament. Excitedly Lauren exclaimed, “We talked about this story in Primary!”
“Super!” Dad said. “Why don’t you share it with us?”
Lauren felt the same uneasiness she’d felt that morning. She thought hard and then shook her head, “I can’t.” Her parents looked at each other, and then Dad continued to read about the good Samaritan.
Later, when Mom sat on the edge of Lauren’s bed to kiss her good night, she found Lauren crying. “What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
“Why can’t I remember that story? Sometimes I feel so dumb.” Lauren told her what had happened in Primary. “Becky’s right,” Lauren said, “I don’t know the scriptures.”
Lauren’s mom hugged her. “Lauren, you are not dumb. You’re a bright young girl. You understand what the stories are about, but you learn them a bit differently than some people, and remembering the details takes you a little longer—that’s all.”
The teachers in Lauren’s class at school always told her the same thing. She had heard it over and over, but it still didn’t help.
The next Sunday, Sister Chapman didn’t ask Lauren to answer any questions, and Lauren didn’t raise her hand. Becky answered almost every question—correctly. I wish I could be like Becky, Lauren thought.
As class was dismissed, all the girls left in a hurry except Lauren, who stayed and helped Sister Chapman erase the chalkboard and put away the chairs. “Thank you, Lauren,” her teacher said. “I can always count on you to help.”
“I liked the lesson,” Lauren replied. “You are a good teacher.” Lauren noticed a bright smile on Sister Chapman’s face.
Later that week, Lauren opened the front door and found a letter and a small package on the porch. They were from Sister Chapman. Lauren quickly opened the letter and read it:
“Dear Lauren,
“I want to tell you how much I enjoy having you in class. I’ve noticed that you feel uncomfortable answering questions, so I didn’t call on you last Sunday. Lauren, you do know the scripture stories. I’ve seen you live them.
“I have a feeling you were Meagan’s—and my—Valiant Secret Pal. You helped the sick. Do you remember helping Becky pick up my papers? You helped someone in need. Every time you thank me for a nice lesson, you help me become a better teacher.
“Lauren, you understand more about the good Samaritan than you think. For some people it’s easy to remember the scriptures word for word, and that is a wonderful gift. But the hardest part is to live the principles the scriptures teach.
“Thanks for being a good Samaritan in our class. Enjoy the gift. It reminds me of you.
“With love,“Sister Chapman”
Lauren unfolded the tissue paper and found a bookmark that read, “The Good Samaritan.” Lauren read the words over and over—they sounded good to her. Walking back inside the house, she sang, “‘I’ll know the scriptures are true’” (Children’s Songbook, 109).

I hated going without showers, eating half-cooked food, and sharing my living quarters with creepy creatures like spiders, yet there I was at girls’ camp. But the truth was I was having the time of my life.
My group was known as the Pink Ladies, and our leader gave each of us bright pink neon shoelaces as our trademark. After enduring five days of rain and cold in the great outdoors, we renamed our group the Pink Penguins.
The rain subsided just long enough to end the week with an evening testimony meeting. My testimony of Christ had been strengthened that week during evening scripture study and gospel discussions with my new friends. During the meeting I thought of my lifestyle at home. I had become friends with girls who were not living up to Church standards. My best friend, Amy, had been telling me how great smoking is and how fun I would be if only I loosened up a bit.
The Spirit had really touched me at camp, and I committed to myself to live a better life when I returned to civilization. I had never borne my testimony before, but I really wanted to this time. As I struggled to muster the courage to stand, I caught a glimpse of the feet of the girls in my group, all of them wearing their pink laces. One by one the girls’ feet carried them to the front where they bore their testimonies.
I looked down at my laces and thought of the love and unity we felt that week and realized I had a terrific support group all around me. With that I stood and headed toward the front. While bearing my testimony, the Spirit was so strong I remember thinking I never wanted to live without it again.

My first contact with the Liahona was when a friend—who later became my husband—brought me a copy when he returned to the United States from serving a mission in Argentina and Chile. Later when I served a mission in Chile, I loved the magazine and was grateful that the members had it to help them build their faith. Now as a senior missionary in Tonga, I use it in the classes I teach at church. Thank you for the Liahona!Sister Mary Lou Ellsworth, Tonga Nuku‘alofa Mission

Brigham Young was also identified for leadership early in life. As a young convert to the Church, thirty-one years of age, he came to visit the Prophet Joseph Smith in Kirtland, Ohio. Brigham met Joseph initially in the woods near Kirtland, when Joseph was chopping and hauling wood. That evening a special meeting of these famous men of history took place. Brigham Young later recounted:
“In the evening a few of the brethren came in, and we conversed together upon the things of the kingdom. He (the Prophet) called upon me to pray; in my prayer I spoke in tongues. As soon as we arose from our knees the brethren flocked around him, and asked his opinion concerning the gift of tongues that was upon me. He told them it was the pure Adamic language. Some said to him they expected he would condemn the gift Brother Brigham had, but he said, ‘No, it is of God, and the time will come when brother Brigham Young will preside over this Church.’ The latter part of this conversation was in my absence.”
Thus the Lord had shown his hand twelve years before the event, and his eyes were already upon Brigham, watching and guiding him in his life. But Brigham Young had many lessons to learn, and the following twelve years were filled with trials and difficult decisions, all of which led to a purposeful end.

Brett was excited. He had just gotten a letter from his big brother Tony. Tony was a missionary. Before Tony left, Brett promised him that he would do missionary work too.
Brett, did you know that when you serve others, you are doing missionary work? I can’t wait to hear about all the missionary work you are doing. Love, Tony
Mom, I want to serve others so I can do missionary work like Tony. What can I do?
I know Mrs. Hampton could use some help raking her leaves on Saturday. Would that be a good way to do missionary work?
Yes! Then I could write Tony and tell him all about it.
The next Saturday, Brett sat down to write Tony a letter.
Dear Tony, I hope you are having as much fun as I am doing missionary work. We helped Mrs. Hampton today in her yard. She gave us a plate of cookies. Dad asked her if she wanted to come to church with us, and she said yes. Love, Brett
Brett folded the paper and stuck the letter and one leaf from Mrs. Hampton’s yard inside an envelope.
I can be a missionary too!

For a more specific example of this realization, not too long ago, I was reading books that my friends (many of whom are members of the Church) were reading.
Often, I would be enjoying the stories, only to be unexpectedly jarred by profanity or sexual content.
For a while, I convinced myself this wasn’t a big deal. They were just books, right? Everyone from the millions of readers on social media to my friends seemed to be reading them with no complaints.
So how could I not agree?
I enjoyed these books and wanted to be part of conversations about them! Deep down, though, they were affecting me and my outlook on life and relationships. But I was afraid to stop reading them because I didn’t want to be seen as prudish or immature.
The Lord offers this warning: “The weak things of the world shall come forth and break down the mighty and strong ones, that man should not counsel his fellow man, neither trust in the arm of flesh” (Doctrine and Covenants 1:19).
This helped me realize I needed to be honest with myself.
I was justifying my behavior by following everyone else’s choices. I was fearing their judgment and ignoring the Spirit’s red flags instead of heeding His warnings.
A few years ago, President Nelson invited us to fast from social media for 10 days. While studying his challenge recently, I noticed that in addition to social media, he included “any other media that bring negative and impure thoughts to your mind.”
So I started taking note of what content I am sensitive to. I’ve tried to establish better habits with the media I consume. Media use isn’t inherently bad, but it’s always important to make sure we pay attention to the Spirit when consuming it.
If you are having trouble knowing where to make changes in your media habits, try asking yourself questions like these:
Are you feeling uplifted and inspired? Or numb and lonely?
Have you felt any discomfort that might be prompting you to step away from certain content?
Are you feeling a need to “fit in” with others by watching or reading certain media?
Are you being honest with yourself?
Elder Ulisses Soares of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles recently taught, “It takes a courageous and a willing heart to pause and pursue an honest and meek introspection to acknowledge the presence of weaknesses of the flesh in our life that may impede our ability to submit ourselves to God, and ultimately decide to adopt His way rather than our own.”
And he’s right. It can be hard to acknowledge our weaknesses and make changes that align with God instead of the world. I still have a lot of work to do when it comes to my media choices (and all my choices), but I’m striving to do better each day.
We have the beautiful promise of having the Spirit as our constant companion as we renew our covenants through the sacrament each week and through the gift of repentance. As we do this—and are truly honest with ourselves—we can “resensitize” our hearts to His guiding influence.
I know that we can always try again when we don’t always make choices that align with the Lord’s commandments. But by focusing on Jesus Christ, we can increase the Spirit’s influence in our lives and limit the world’s.

When the mission was reopened, thirty members of the small branch at Cuantla were waiting at the train station to greet the missionaries when they returned. Twelve children and some young adults began singing songs of welcome. Afterward they shouted, “Qué viven los misioneros!” (long live the missionaries), as they showered the elders with confetti.
The missionaries were then taken to a home that had been decorated with beautiful flowers and cedar boughs in honor of this special occasion. Following a delicious dinner, a meeting was held.
President Pratt in his report to the brethren in Salt Lake told of the joy of the people in welcoming the missionaries. Even the children had planned for a program during the evening. President Pratt said, “It was wonderful to note the progress of the children of the branch along lines of study upon which they had been started by the missionaries. Little tots that were babies in arms when the missionaries left got up and recited one or more of the Articles of Faith.”