Gospel Story Finder

But while Pedro’s academic curiosity and craftsmanship would have made him stand out in any community, one other quality made him unique. There have been few characters in the course of written history with whom faith and fact were synonymous. Pedro was one of these.
Even for those of us who use the term daily, faith is a paradox. Conspicuously absent in many who bear its robes, it sometimes finds a more congenial soil under homespun wool and leather thongs.
At any rate Pedro’s faith was both simple and factual. We had bought a diesel engine that generated electricity for our school and church building. A film arrived from Church headquarters depicting the struggles of early pioneers in southern Utah. President Lorenzo Snow, president of the Church at that time, promised the pioneers that a devastating drought would end if they would pay their tithing.
That year Pedro’s village was experiencing a drought. Potatoes and corn were drooping in despair at the rainy season’s slow arrival.
Pedro arrived the morning after the film was shown to pay ten soles (less than 50 cents) in tithing. He then went home and sat on his porch to wait for the rain.
It rained.

In the George household, there are cherished memories about their ancestors that help strengthen the faith of family members. Elder George relates one beautiful story his grandfather told them:
“One man told my Grandpa about being in a stake conference when he was twelve years old, and he became nervous when Elder Kimball [then an Apostle] asked all of the twelveyear-old boys to come to the front. Elder Kimball lined them all up and gave each one of them a crisp, new one-dollar bill. He told them that that was the start of their missionary fund. The man never forgot that experience and he said that it helped give focus to his life.”

He can embrace us in His arms of mercy, comforting, empowering, and healing each of us.
Sister Reyna I. Aburto
At some point in our lives, we will have felt heartbroken after losing someone whom we love dearly. Through the current global pandemic, many of us have lost loved ones—either family members or friends. We pray for those who are grieving such loss. …
We can imagine how Jesus’s friends, who had followed Him and ministered to Him, felt upon witnessing His death. We know that “they mourned and wept” [Mark 16:10]. …
… When I was nine years old, I lost my older brother during a devastating earthquake. Because it happened unexpectedly, it took me a while to grasp the reality of what had occurred. I was heartbroken by sorrow, and I would ask myself, “What happened to my brother? Where is he? Where did he go? Will I ever see him again?” …
About 40 years later, during Easter time, I was pondering about the Resurrection of Jesus Christ and started thinking about my brother. …
That day I realized that the Spirit had given me comfort in a difficult time. I had received a witness that my brother’s spirit is not dead; he is alive. He is still progressing in his eternal existence. I now know that “[my] brother shall rise again” [John 11:23] at that magnificent moment when, because of Jesus Christ’s Resurrection, we will all be resurrected.

I joined the Church when I was 16. Soon after, I became seriously ill and missed a month of school.
While I was sick, I decided to catch up on school assignments and read my history textbook. I was so excited when I saw there was a whole chapter on the Latter-day Saint contribution to the westward expansion of the United States!
But as I read, my heart sank. The history of my new church was twisted and ugly according to the textbook. How was I ever going to be tested on these falsehoods?
I finally went back to school, even though I still felt weak. Towards the end of my history class, my teacher suddenly stopped and asked, “Is anyone in this class a Mormon?”
The world seemed to stop. My heart pounded. I raised my hand and proclaimed to the entire class that I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“So, Wendy, have you read the chapter about the Mormons?” the teacher asked. I told him I had. “Is it accurate?” I said it was not. “We’re not going to discuss this chapter in class,” he said. “Every Mormon student I’ve ever had has said the textbook is incorrect.” He then suggested that if anyone wanted to know the true history of the Church, they could ask me!
Although I may have been weak physically, with the support and guidance of the Holy Ghost, I was stronger than I ever imagined I could be.
Wendy Z., California, USA

I was really excited to go to the temple and do baptisms.
At first it was hard. I was worried about what the older girls would think about me. I was a little nervous until we all went to the temple together. That’s when we became good friends.
It was very special. Going inside the temple of the Lord was a spiritual experience. I’ve always wanted to go to the temple. In Primary we sang, “I love to see the temple. I’m going there someday.” Now I can say, “I love to go to the temple.”
That first time in the temple, I did baptisms for some of my aunts, some relatives of my grandmother (my mom’s mom), and other people I didn’t know. The temple and family history are part of my testimony.

The first real test of my young testimony came when I had to decide between going on a mission and playing basketball,” says Dean Reid Burgess. Brother Burgess had spent his freshman year playing basketball for the College of Southern Utah on scholarship.
It was 1965, the height of the war in Vietnam, and not every young man had the chance to serve a mission because of the United States military draft. But Brother Burgess had the chance and the choice. “It took a lot of prayer and a lot of fasting,” he says. “But I knew serving a mission was a real privilege, so I left school to serve.” While serving in the Brazilian Mission, Brother Burgess solidified his testimony of the restored gospel.

I would like to thank you for your articles “Gold Mine” and “Stephen” in the May New Era. Never before have I been so touched by a magazine. I live in the same ward in which Stephen Farrance lived. A few years ago Steve showed me the story “Gold Mine.” It was his intention at that time to have it published in the New Era. After his death I intended to get the story and send it to you. You can imagine my delight when I discovered it in the May issue. It brought tears to my eyes as I read it again.
Stephen was a fighter. Never did I see him give up on anything that he started. He was a fierce competitor and always put up a strong battle at the scripture chases. Stephen loved life and got the most from it. In the last weeks of his life, he was serving others, directing and producing our roadshow. The week before the performance, we practiced every morning at 5:30 A.M. For Steve this meant getting up at 4:30 or 5:00 in the morning to be at the church on time. He was always there.
The roadshow took place on Friday and Saturday nights. On Friday night Steve was cheering us on. That evening he went to the hospital, and the next morning he passed away. That night we were all surprised to see his family at the church giving us encouragement. We gave it our best, and for some reason I could remember my lines, which I had forgotten the night before. I could hear Steve telling me the words. It’s something I shall never forget. Steve was a wonderful person, with as much drive and enthusiasm as anyone I have known. I feel privileged to have known him. He was a good friend and a fine example of a true Latter-day Saint. I hope to meet Steve again. He touched the hearts of all who met him.
Brian BurgessBurnaby, British Columbia, Canada

I was going to do a cheer onstage at the school open house. When I got home, I went upstairs to try on my uniform. The skirt was too short. I went down and showed my mom. My mom called my dad and told him everything. He said that I should pray about it. I went back upstairs and asked Heavenly Father what I should do. When it was time to go, I wore pants. I missed the cheer, but I’m glad that I followed Heavenly Father and Jesus.

The fourth is to respect yourself as a son of God. Those of us who have served missions have seen the miracle in the lives of some we have taught as they have come to realize that they are sons and daughters of God. Many years ago an elder who served a mission in the British Isles said at the end of his labors, “I think my mission has been a failure. I have labored all my days as a missionary here and I have only baptized one dirty little Irish kid. That is all I baptized.”

Years later, after his return to his home in Montana, he had a visitor come to his home who asked, “Are you the elder who served a mission in the British Isles in 1873?”

“Yes.”

Then the man went on, “And do you remember having said that you thought your mission was a failure because you had only baptized one dirty little Irish kid?”

He said, “Yes.”

The visitor put out his hand and said, “I would like to shake hands with you. My name is Charles A. Callis, of the Council of the Twelve of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I am that dirty little Irish kid that you baptized on your mission.”

That little Irish boy came to a knowledge of his potential as a son of God. Elder Callis left a lasting legacy for his large family. Serving as a mission president for 25 years and in his apostolic ministry for 13 years, he blessed the lives of literally thousands. I feel privileged to have known this great Apostle of the Lord when I was a young man.

One of my favorite stories is the story of Lambert the Sheepish Lion. It became famous in a cartoon some years ago.
Lambert was a lion cub that had lived with a flock of sheep from the time he was born. Because of that, he thought he was a sheep. One spring night Lambert and the flock were sleeping peacefully. Suddenly Lambert heard the scary howl of a wolf in the distance. Because Lambert thought he was a sheep, he began to tremble.
The howl grew louder, and the wolf came closer and began dragging one of the sheep away. Suddenly Lambert felt a strong feeling inside that he had never felt before. Like lightning, he ran toward the wolf to save the sheep!
Just then Lambert realized something. I am not a sheep. I am not the son of a sheep. I am the son of a lion! Lambert thought. When he chased off the wolf and protected the sheep, he knew his true nature.

In my kindergarten class we had a box of toys, and during playtime we could choose a toy to play with. The most treasured of all the toys was a carved wooden train with wooden wheels and a caboose. All the children in my class always wanted to play with the train and caboose.
One day I thought of a way I could play with that caboose without sharing with the other children. I slipped the caboose into my lunch pail and took it home with me. As I did that, I felt bad inside. At age five, I knew I was doing something wrong.
At home, I hid in the corner of our hall closet to play with the little caboose. I did this for a few days. Then one day my mom opened the closet door and saw me playing with the caboose. She asked me about it, and I told her. She and my father then began to teach me. They helped me understand that I felt bad because I had done something wrong. The Holy Ghost was prompting me to do the right thing. They told me that I needed to return the caboose.
Mom walked with me back to school, and watched me as I said sorry to the teacher and gave her the caboose. The teacher told me the consequences, and for the next few days I did not get to play with the toys. But even with the discipline, I felt good inside.

We were recently in a stake conference in Nauvoo, Illinois. The choir music was exceptional. The director, who is a professional musician and teaches at a local university, was a master at captivating the choir and congregation. Every movement of his body was intrinsically linked to the music. We wanted to sing exactly as he was leading. All eyes were on him. I thought of the Savior. He has challenged us to be as He is. If we would give Him the rapt attention we were giving Brother Nelson, we would quickly be transformed into the Savior’s image.

The transformation as we were singing was momentary. We were where we needed to be, and all had a great desire to follow. If we find ourselves in the places we should be, with the fervent desire to follow the Lord, He will touch our lives and cleanse us that we may live in His presence permanently. There was no coercion by the director to get us to sing, just connection. Real repentance comes with that connection to the Savior. Let us consider our personal prayers and everyday thoughts. We all have work to do to make the connection the Lord requires.

I asked Brother Nelson how he could draw so much out of us. He humbly replied, “Because their hearts are pure.”

“What else?” I asked.

He answered, “It is through the Spirit. That is the only way we can communicate at that level.”

On Sunday, March 29, we fasted for peace in the world and healing from COVID-19. This was my first time fasting for 24 hours, and it was hard. I was hungry, but my mom told me to remember the reason we were fasting and that God will hear my prayers and accept my fasting. I grabbed my Book of Mormon and started reading. It brought me peace and filled me spiritually. God lives, and Jesus Christ loves us.
Yaretzi L., age 10, California, USA

For Cathy Antonsson of Helsingborig, Sweden, saying no was not always easy or pleasant.

“It was rough. It’s not easy, but you have to pay the price for who you are. Sometimes I cried my eyes out because I had to stay home. It was difficult because many people here just aren’t religious.
“I went to Rome for two weeks on a school trip. In Italy, they always offered us wine. They have wine with most of their meals, so my friends kept offering me wine, and I kept saying, ‘No, I don’t drink that.’
“My friends spent so much money on drinks. Everytime we went out, I would put the same amount of money in my purse that they spent on their drinks. Before we left, I went to an exclusive dress shop and bought a very expensive designer dress. All my friends were really surprised when they saw it and said, ‘Hey, how could you afford that?’ I told them what I had done and that that was one of the advantages of not drinking.”
Despite the hardships, Cathy was glad she upheld her standards. “After I graduated from junior college (in Sweden, students 16 to 19 attend junior college), a boy that I used to date told me that when we started school he had set a goal that before we graduated he would get me to break my standards. He said it always bugged him that I was so moral.
“When we used to go out on dates, I always said, ‘Hey, no way. I want to be your friend, but I don’t do that.’ After it was all over, he told me, ‘I have never respected a girl as much as I respect you.’”

Losing one of my brothers while he was serving faithfully in the Abidjan West Mission was the beginning of gloom and dark clouds for my family. Things began to go badly in all facets of our lives. My maternal family members, who are not members, made lots of allegation against my parents but that never moved my parents, because of their unwavering faith in the Savior. My dad would say “it is the will of the Lord and what the Lord sees fit for His children, He does that for them”. Having a perfect knowledge of the plan of salvation gave us an assurance that surely, we would meet and be happy with my brother again after this test of mortality.
A few months later, I made a decision that raised eyebrows all around me. I decided to serve a full-time mission too. My decision to serve came as a blow to a greater part of my family and my closest friends. Most of them, if not 100 percent of them, counselled me not to, but my desire to serve the Lord and humanity was not thwarted because I knew what foundation I was built upon and my parent’s trust and support kept me going.
Amid the impending situation, I felt so different from everyone else and I remembered the talk by President Monson in which he quotes an old Primary song: “Dare to be a Mormon; Dare to stand alone. Dare to have a purpose firm; Dare to make it known”.1
This ultimately drove me to obtain my patriarchal blessing, and in it I realized the Lord has a greater work for me and that it can be accomplished successfully only if I exercise unyielding faith in Him. That helped me press on to pursue His course.
Currently, I am serving in one of the greatest missions (if not the greatest) and this brings me joy every single day. Whenever I share the restored gospel to God’s children, bear an honest and uplifting testimony, encourage them to have faith, repent, and prepare to make covenants, I feel the same joy that Lehi felt with his family in the Book of Mormon (see 1 Nephi 8:12).
Ever since I began this journey, I strive to develop the faith to reap because having just the faith to thrust in our sickles is not enough. The faith to reap is an unwavering faith in our Savior, Jesus Christ. It’s surely unyielding. Jacob, in the Book of Mormon, also admonished us “that we truly can command in the name of Jesus and the very trees obey us, or the mountains, or the waves of the sea” (Jacob 4:6).
These are miracles that come as we exercise this faith in Jesus Christ. I know for a surety that we do not require perfection to reap but all we need is persistence, genuine intentions, and an unfailing determination.
My parent’s faith in Jesus Christ has been the backbone and driving force for me in being a full-time missionary and it gives me the strength each day to press forward, remain valiant, and return with honor because I know who I am, what I stand for and whose team I play for.

We finally did it! My younger brother and I had saved enough money to buy the river raft of our dreams. I was 15 years old, and we had long anticipated the day that we could raft down the river near our house without a care.
As we walked to the river, I realized that we were missing something important: the paddles! Since it would take an additional 10 minutes to go back and get them, we decided that we didn’t need paddles. I thought to myself, “The river isn’t too rough. We will just jump in, sit back, and see where the river takes us.” After all, we were men, and men didn’t need paddles.
As we floated down the river, we saw snakes, turtles, shiny rocks, and mysterious floating objects—which remained mysterious since we could never get close enough to investigate them. Without paddles, we were at the mercy of the current and where it wanted to take us, which was often different from where we actually wanted to go. We tried paddling with our hands, but it was a slow form of navigation that did little except entertain the people watching our “progress” from the riverbank.
There were times when we got caught in the slow section of the current. My brother and I would gaze longingly at the enticing rapids, but we had no effective means of steering our way over to them. When we did find our way into a small set of rapids, we wished we hadn’t. As we came around a curve in the river we noticed several rough tree branches hanging only a few inches above the water. We frantically paddled with our hands, but they were no match for the current. We plowed face first into the coarse branches, leaving us feeling like we had been run over by sandpaper.
Nursing our wounds and egos, we reached the end of our trip and pulled the raft out of the water. We realized that without a paddle we had missed out on what could have been a more fun and exciting experience.

“Now may I make a personal reference, which I’ll try to treat in such a way as to preserve the confidentiality. It involved a beautiful, young wife and mother from a prominent family. She had gone away from her home and was now in the East. She had gone out into an area where she and her husband had taken up with those in the ghetto, and she wrote me a rather interesting letter, and I quote only a paragraph: ‘Tomorrow my husband will shave off his long, full beard. Because of the request of the stake president and your direction in the Priesthood Bulletin, he must not have the appearance of evil or rebellion if he is to get a recommend to go to the temple. I have wept anguished tears; the faces of Moses and Jacob were bearded, and to me the wisdom and spirituality of the old prophets reflected from the face of my own spiritual husband. It was like cutting out for me a symbol of the good things my generation has learned.’ Then the letter concluded with a challenge to me: ‘We are prepared for clear, specific, hard-line direction as youth. Wishy-washy implications are not heard very well here. We look to you to tell it straight.’
“I don’t know whether she knew just what she was asking for when she asked me to tell it straight, but these are some things I wrote to her: ‘In your letter you address me as, “Dear President Lee,” and in your first sentence you refer to me as the Lord’s prophet. Now, in your letter you tell me that you are saddened because with the shaving off of the beard and the cutting of the hair, which, to you, made your husband appear as the prophets Moses and Jacob, he would no longer bear that resemblance. I wonder if you might not be wiser to think of following the appearance of the prophets of today. President David O. McKay had no beard or long hair; neither did President Joseph Fielding Smith; and neither does your humble servant whom you have acknowledged as the Lord’s prophet.
“‘The inconsistency in your letter has made me reflect upon an experience that I had in the mission field when, in company with some missionaries and the mission president, we were at Carthage Jail, where the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph and his brother, Hyrum, took place. In that meeting there were recounted the events that led up to their martyrdom. Then the mission president made some significant comments. He said, “When the Prophet Joseph Smith died there were many who died spiritually with Joseph.” Likewise there were many who died spiritually with Brigham Young, and so with others of the presidents of the Church, because they chose to follow the man who had passed on, rather than giving allegiance to his successor upon whom the mantle of leadership had been given by the Lord’s appointment.’
“And then I asked her, ‘Are you following, in looks, prophets who lived hundreds of years ago? Are you really true to your faith as a member of the Church in failing to look to those who preside in the Church today? Why is it that you want your husband to look like Moses and Jacob, rather than to look like the modern prophets to whom you are expressing allegiance? If you will give this sober thought, your tears will dry, and you’ll begin to have some new thoughts.’” (“Be Loyal to the Royal Within You.” Speeches of the Year, Provo, Utah: Brigham Young University Press, 1974, pp. 97–98.)

When her husband confessed betraying her, one sister prayed for help in forgiving him and sought relief as she studied the scriptures and attended the temple. “As I look back,” she writes, “I realize that it was during those long, prayerful moments that I tapped into a life-giving source of comfort from my loving Heavenly Father. I sense that he was not standing by glaring at me for not having accomplished forgiveness yet; rather he was sorrowing with me as I wept. He loved me. … I had always viewed the Atonement as a means of making repentance work for the sinner. I had not realized that it also makes it possible for the one sinned against to receive into his or her heart the sweet peace of forgiving” (“My Journey to Forgiving,” Ensign, February 1997, 43).

A number of years ago, when we were living in Boston, Massachusetts, I had just finished a particularly bad week. You know what a bad week is, don’t you? It’s seven bad days in a row. By the end of the week I was feeling depressed and a bit sorry for myself.
Finally, one night after my family had gone to bed, I determined to stay up longer and really go before the Lord in a more determined way than when I say my regular night and morning prayers.
As I knelt in the downstairs study of the darkened house, my circumstances made it easy to approach the Lord in the depths of humility, and I freely expressed my deepest feelings. As I prayed, I felt a need for a confirmation that He was there and that He cared. From past experiences I knew these things, but there are times when one needs the strength of reconfirmation. As I prayed and made this specific request, I had a most remarkable experience. I had had spiritual experiences before, but this, to me, was more. There was an outpouring of the Spirit so real that I could feel it. It filled my whole soul and was not just a single experience but came again and again within just a minute or two.
I came from that room that night with a reconfirmed and absolute knowledge, born of the Spirit, that not only did the Savior live, but that He knew me and cared for me with a love that was truly divine.
The influence of that experience lingered with me for days and caused me to have a feeling of genuine concern and love for my fellowmen, even people on the street whom I did not know! While previously I would pass them with little or no thought, I now felt a concern for and interest in them. Even my family seemed to be more dear to me. I felt a bond with the Saints everywhere and wanted to serve my fellowmen.
I can’t remember the trials I was facing at that particular time. They passed as trials usually do. But I will always remember the experience of that evening when the Spirit healed me. It reconfirmed to me that if our hearts are right, we can go before the Lord and in one degree or another and in one way or another he will send the healing influence of the Spirit, and that the Spirit not only heals, but it also unites. This need not be a singular experience but can happen often.

Sofía woke up early. Today was very special. She was going to sell lemonade at her aunt and uncle’s garage sale! Mamá made a huge jug of lemonade for her.
Sofía made a sign. She wrote “Lemonade!” in orange and yellow letters. She taped it to a little table. Then she sat down to wait.
Soon a man came by. “May I have a cup?” he asked. He put some pesos in her jar.
“Sure!” Sofía said. She poured him a cup of lemonade
Little by little, people came to look at the garage sale. And little by little they bought the yummy lemonade. The morning passed happily. Soon all of the lemonade was gone.
Sofía shook her jar. The pesos jingled. She had so many!
“Good job!” Papá said.
Sofía had never had so much money before. “I’m going to buy a yo-yo!”
Papá smiled. “Do you know what Mamá and I do when we earn money?”
Sofía shook her head.
“We pay tithing,” Papá said. “Heavenly Father gave us everything. He asks that we give Him a little part back. We pay tithing because we love Him.”
Sofía smiled. She wanted to show Heavenly Father that she loved Him too.
Papá helped Sofía count her pesos. Whenever she counted to 10, she put one peso in an envelope. Papá helped her write numbers on a little white paper. They put the paper in the envelope with the pesos. Then they sealed it shut. Sofía was going to give it to the bishop tomorrow at church.
“How do you feel?” Papá asked Sofia.
“So happy! And I still have money for a yo-yo.” She felt Heavenly Father was happy with her choice.