Gospel Story Finder

“If I weren’t a Mormon” seemed to be my favourite phrase this month. If I weren’t a Mormon I wouldn’t be getting up at 5:30 in the morning, braving 6° C. and less temperatures just to go to seminary. If I weren’t a Mormon I’d be more accepted at school, and I’d have fun going to “all weekend” parties with friends, and I wouldn’t have to put up with all those jokes aimed at my religious beliefs. If I weren’t a Mormon life would be so much easier.
When I finally reached school that morning I was cranky, depressed, and tired. I wouldn’t be like this if I weren’t a Mormon, I thought. I missed the bus because Dad likes long family prayers. And Mum couldn’t drive me because she had to go to some Relief Society meeting.
I was late for class so I took a shortcut through the back of the library where I saw my ex-boyfriend embracing a “perfect 10” blonde. We had stopped going out because I wasn’t willing to compromise my standards. Seeing those two together was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I ran into a nearby empty room and cried.
When I finally made it to class I slipped into my seat just before I was marked absent. The daily notice sheet was read out loud reminding us of the upcoming long weekend and the camp planned at The Entrance, a coastal holiday town about five hours north of Sydney, Australia. That’s just what I needed. I wondered if Dad and Mum would let me go? No, they wouldn’t because I have to go to church Sunday and I have to go to family home evening Monday.
I was so bored in maths that I calculated how much more pocket money I’d have and all the things I could buy if I didn’t have to pay tithing.
The next morning the alarm went off at 5:30 as usual. Time to go to seminary again. Why should I have to go? Why get up at 5:30 every morning? Then I heard Mum’s cheery voice telling me that if I didn’t get up I’d be late.
The topic that morning was, “What has Joseph Smith done for you?” I could answer that easily. If it weren’t for Joseph Smith I wouldn’t be a Mormon.
“Will you read Doctrine and Covenants, section 122, verses seven and eight, please?” my teacher asked.
Wearily, I took out my scriptures and started reading. At first I was not really listening, but then something made me start to pay attention to the words.
“And if thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers, and the sentence of death passed upon thee; if thou be cast into the deep; if the billowing surge conspire against thee; if fierce winds become thine enemy; if the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up the way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.”
I choked out the last verse, tears brimming. “The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he?”
A few days later I was standing on the balcony of the Opera House, watching the boats on the water under the harbour bridge. I couldn’t remember why I had felt so restricted because of my religion. My problems seemed pretty small and insignificant compared to those of Jesus Christ and Joseph Smith. I felt selfish as I asked myself, “Art thou greater than he?”
I was standing on a balcony overlooking the greatest harbour in the world in the greatest country in the world. The lights of Sydney seemed to be towering and challenging the stars above. “I’m so proud of my country,” I said to myself. “It’s so full of unique beauty, people, and culture. I thank God for our beautiful flora, fauna, and freedom. And I’m proud to be a part of the ever-growing and only true church in the world.”
My favourite phrase still is, “If I weren’t a Mormon,” but in a different way. If I weren’t a Mormon I wouldn’t have such a wonderful family, such great friends, and such a clear understanding of the purpose of life.
By the way, I calculated how much tithing I have paid, and when I look at how much God has given me, there’s no comparison.

A few weeks after my baptism at age 30, the president of our branch in Piura, Peru, asked to interview me to determine my worthiness to receive the Aaronic Priesthood. After I sat down, President Jorge García offered a prayer. Then he asked me, “Do you believe in God?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Do you keep the Word of Wisdom?”
“Yes,” I replied again.
“Are you chaste?”
“Yes.”
To this point I had been confident in my answers, but then came the next question: “Do you pay a full tithe?”
I was speechless. In my mind I could see the illustration the missionaries had shown me when they taught the discussion on tithing. They had said that one-tenth of our income belongs to the Lord. Then I heard another question: “Didn’t the missionaries teach you the law of tithing?”
“They did teach me,” I replied, “but I just don’t pay it.”
“I’m sorry,” President García said after a moment, “but you will have to pay your tithing in order to receive the priesthood. Start now, and pay the Lord your tithing.”
I left his office in a thoughtful mood. After reviewing the law of tithing later that day, I entered my room, knelt on the floor, and began to pray. “Heavenly Father, if I have robbed Thee by not paying my tithing, I ask Thee to forgive me. I promise I will never again fail to pay it.”
The following Sunday at church I asked the branch president for another interview. I told him I felt that the Lord had forgiven me and that He had accepted my commitment to pay tithing, which I began doing that very Sunday. “Am I worthy to receive the priesthood?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “Today I will confer the Aaronic Priesthood upon you and ordain you to the office of deacon.”
Today I have a powerful testimony of tithing and the abundant blessings that come from paying it. In countless interviews since that Sunday more than 35 years ago, whenever my leaders have asked me if I pay a full tithe, I have been happy to answer yes!

This story happened in Venezuela.
Ivette ran up the front steps to her abuela’s (grandma’s) house. Her parents came in behind her. It was Christmas, and they were going to celebrate with the whole family.
The house was crowded and noisy. All around her, Ivette’s family members laughed and joked with one another. They loved gathering together to make hallacas, a Venezuelan holiday food. This year, Abuela had promised Ivette that she could help make them. Ivette weaved through the maze of uncles, aunts, and cousins, looking for Abuela.
“Ivette?” Abuela called. “Ivette, where are you?”
“I’m right here, Abuela!” Ivette ran to Abuela and hugged her. Then she looked up, bouncing on her toes with excitement. “What’s my special job this year?”
“We’ll get to that!” Abuela chuckled. “First, let me show you everyone else’s jobs so you can see how hallacas are made.”
Ivette followed Abuela to the table. The delicious smell of onions, meat, and spices filled the air. She couldn’t wait to get started!
“First,” Abuela said, “Aunt Carmen will prepare the masa.”
Aunt Carmen placed a ball of soft corn dough onto a green banana leaf. Then she squished it into a flat circle.
“Next, Ana will add the stuffing,” Abuela said.
Ivette’s older cousin, Ana, tipped a scoop of meat stew onto the dough. She added olives, peppers, raisins, and shredded chicken on top.
“Now your mom will fold the leaves.”
Mom’s fingers gently wrapped the leaves into a perfect rectangle.
“Our job is next, Ivette.” Abuela passed the folded hallaca to Ivette. “We’re going to tie it closed.”
Abuela picked up a piece of cotton string. With careful hands, she crisscrossed the string around the hallaca. “Put your finger on top to keep it in place while I finish the knot.”
Ivette’s shoulders dropped. They’re making this job up, she thought. They don’t actually need me.
“Why can’t I have an important job like you or Mom?” she asked, feeling frustrated.
“Your job is very important, Ivette.” Abuela gently placed Ivette’s finger on the string. “Without you here to keep the string in place, we couldn’t tie the hallacas closed. Then they would fall apart while they cook. Everyone’s hard work would be wasted. We all play a special part in making hallacas—just like we all play a special part in Heavenly Father’s family.”
A special part just for her? Ivette thought about that as Abuela tied the knot over her finger. She slipped her finger out of the knot so Abuela could pull it tight.
“We are all needed in this family,” Mom added. “It’s how we stay strong.”
Ivette looked at her family gathered around the table. Everyone was different. Her aunt told the best jokes. Her mom gave amazing hugs. And Abuela always knew what to say to make things better. Heavenly Father had given them all different gifts, but that was what made them special.
Abuela placed the hallaca in a basket with the rest. They were all perfectly stuffed, folded, and tied by Ivette’s family members, each helping in different ways.
Ivette smiled. Each of her family members had a special place in Heavenly Father’s family, just like they had a special part in making Christmas hallacas. Even Ivette!
She placed her finger on the next hallaca as Abuela tied the knot.
Illustrations by Denise Damanti

My family had family prayer and family home evening, and during those times, I learned the importance of communicating with Father in Heaven.
I remember one time when one of our puppies was run over by a car. Heartbroken, I carried the puppy into my mother. “He’s not going to live!” I cried. With her infinite wisdom, she helped me place the tiny body in a box and suggested we say a prayer. We knelt and prayed, then headed to the vet.
When the vet came into the room, he took one look at the puppy and asked why we had come. “There’s nothing wrong with this animal,” he said. But I knew that there had been—I had seen the car run over him. That was a great testimony to me about the power of prayer. I knew then and know today that Heavenly Father hears and answers our prayers.

I was born in Fiji. My parents were not members of the Church, but they went to another church.
When I grew up, I married my wife, Anita. She was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She kept inviting the missionaries over to meet me.
One day I told them they could come to dinner for the next three nights. I said they had to use only the Bible to answer my questions. Their answers were perfect. On the third night, they asked me a question.
“If you had a grocery store, what would you call it?”
“I would call it the Wakolo Family Grocery Store because it’s my store,” I answered.
“Whom should a church be named after?” they asked.
It was a great question. And I knew the answer with my heart and soul. The true Church would be named after Jesus because it’s His Church. And The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was named after Him!
I had just one more question: “When can I be baptized?” One week later, I was.
When I was baptized, I took upon myself Jesus Christ’s name. That means I became a member of His Church and promised to follow Him. I try my best every day to live as He did. I know that this is Jesus Christ’s true Church.

In 1988, I went with other British teachers to teach at a school in Sudan. The children were delightful, and we quickly adjusted to the rigors of living in a developing country. Our employer, however, turned out to be an oppressive leader who persecuted anyone he perceived as opposing him in any way. He hated me from the day I stood up for someone he had abused.
One day he called me into his office. For over half an hour, he subjected me to all manner of verbal abuse and threats. I left the room in a state of shock. I have no memory of how I got through the rest of the school day. All evening I could not get his terrible words out of my mind.
At bedtime, I sat on my bed and read the scriptures. Then I knelt and fervently prayed for comfort and relief, but I felt none. I got into bed but couldn’t sleep. Twice more I got up, read, knelt, and prayed, but to no avail.
“Oh, well,” I thought, “Heavenly Father doesn’t always answer our prayers how and when we want.” I resigned myself to a wretched, sleepless night.
But as I lay down again, I thought, “There’s one more thing I can do.” I started to repeat the words of the temple ordinances to myself in my mind. As I did this, a wondrous miracle happened. All the misery and darkness flowed out of me, and the most wonderful peace and joy flowed in and filled my entire being.
I arose and prayed, giving tearful thanks to Heavenly Father. Then I got back into bed and slept. The next day, which should have been full of fear and misery, was the happiest day I have ever spent with a class of children.
I realized that the Lord had wanted me to ponder the temple ordinances. To the Saints crossing the plains after receiving their blessings in the Nauvoo Temple, President Brigham Young (1801–1877) said, “Let the fire of the covenant which you made in the House of the Lord, burn in your hearts, like flame unquenchable.” As our temple covenants burn in our hearts and minds, we also will find strength, peace, and comfort.

This glimpse in summary. It was in a school of instruction, the School of Prophets, that the Prophet asked that each in turn speak, that as the revelation says, all might not speak at once but “that every man may have an equal privilege” (D&C 88:122). The subject was faith. Scriptures were quoted. The last man to speak, as it happened, was Brother Kimball, who in effect said it’s all been said but I can say one thing, tell you a story. My daughter, Helen Mar, was standing near the table and her mother left her saying, “Don’t touch those dishes. Don’t break one of those or I will whip you.” Vilate left, and Helen Mar did what little children do when they are told not to do it. Not just a dish was broken. The whole table leaf collapsed. Now she went out, as she had watched her parents do, near a tree. We don’t know what she said, but it would have been simple enough. “Bless my mother that she won’t whip me.” Vilate returned. She saw the situation. She flared. She took Helen by the hand into the bedroom. She assumed the angle. And then she couldn’t go through with it. And the arms of Helen Mar came around her neck and she said, “Oh mother, I prayed that you wouldn’t. I’m sorry, sorry.” When Brother Kimball had finished, every man in the room, including Joseph, was in tears. And Joseph said, “Brethren [these are grown-up, strong, independent, willful, intelligent men], that is the kind of faith we need, the faith of a little child going in humility to its parent” (see Whitney, pp. 69–70). That sums it up.

Eight-year-old Jürgen Hiller’s parents are very important to him. He is very grateful that his father is alive and doing well. On August 31, 1992, Jürgen’s father woke up in a hospital. While driving to work, he had been in a terrible car accident. His spine was injured, and both thighs were broken. The doctors said that it was doubtful that he would live and that if by some miracle he did, that he would be paralyzed for life.
But the Hiller family believes in miracles. Through fasting and many prayers, Brother Hiller lived and was not paralyzed. Jürgen and his family are thankful for a Heavenly Father who hears and answers prayers.

Soon after we left the Indian reservation, Sister Owens in the next wagon became ill, and we camped for several days.
Some of the braves rode over from the reservation to get help with their baskets. Papa didn’t have much straw left to give them, but they had already decided that bear grass would do just as well. Papa showed them how to do a braided edge around the top of their baskets. He took out a pocketknife to trim the ends, and a little Indian boy who had come with his father looked so pleased with the knife that Papa let him keep it. Later that day the boy’s father returned with a strange-looking three-pronged stick that he gave to Papa, explaining how he could use it to find water for digging a well.
“I can probably use this later,” Papa said as he fastened it securely to the wagon.

The story is told of an elementary teacher who had students write essays in hopes that it would motivate the fathers to attend a PTA meeting. The fathers came in $4,000 cars and $400 cars—bank president, laborer, clerk, salesman, meter reader, baker, etc.—“every man with a definite estimate of himself in terms of money, skill, and righteousness or looks. … The children’s essays were read at random.

“‘I like my daddy, … he built my doll house, took me coasting, taught me to shoot, helps with my schoolwork, takes me to the park, gave me a pig to fatten and sell.’ Scores of the essays could be reduced in essence to: ‘I like my daddy. He plays with me.’

“Not one child mentioned his family house, car, neighborhood, food, or clothing.

“The fathers went into the meeting from many walks of life; they came out in two classes: companions to their children or strangers to their children.” (“The Savior, the Priesthood, and You,” Melchizedek Priesthood quorums’ course of study for 1973–74, p. 226.)

“I’m afraid to share my testimony with nonmembers because:
“They might not be prepared to hear it.”
“They might reject it, and then I would feel rejected.”
“I’m not sure what to say or how to express my testimony.”
During the second week of our member-missionary class, I recognized a marvelous opportunity to share my testimony of the plan of salvation with a nonmember friend who had just had her first baby. By putting my trust in the Lord, I was able to express my testimony of God’s love. It was a wonderful experience that led to tears of joy and an undeniable feeling that God does love us. I followed up later by sharing a copy of the Book of Mormon with her, which she welcomed and agreed to read.

My good friend introduced me to the Latter-day Saint missionaries. At the time I met them it was hard to understand English, but my friend helped me to understand them and the teachings they brought. When the missionaries invited me to be baptized, I found it hard to leave my old culture and teachings. They shared their testimonies and said I needed to ask the Lord for a testimony, too.
One night I prayed after reading the Book of Mormon, and I received the confirmation by the Spirit that what I had been taught was true. I was baptized in June of 1998. I felt a strong spirit that day.

I know a brother in Brazil who joined the Church as a 16-year-old, the only member in his family. When it was time for his mission, his parents objected. He heard nothing from them during his mission and returned home to his bishop’s house. The story, however, has a happy ending, as he now has a beautiful family and works as a dental surgeon, and his parents wish he could interest his brothers in the Church.

When I was young, I was overly dependent on my older sister. For example, I was a fussy eater, and when we went to visit our grandparents, I was constantly faced with being offered food I didn’t like. When the plate was passed to me, I would turn to my sister and ask, “Collene, do I like this?”
If it was familiar and she knew that I didn’t like it, she would say, “No, you don’t like that.”
If it was something we hadn’t eaten before, she would say, “Just a minute,” and taste it, and then tell me if I liked it or not. If she said that I didn’t like it, no amount of coaxing could get me to eat it.
Just as I needed to rely on my own taste buds and stop denying myself good food just because my sister told me that I didn’t like it, we must all feast on the fruit of our own testimony and not the testimony of another person. We also need to increase our ability to receive personal revelation.
We do this when we place our faith in our Lord and Savior, repent of our sins, read and really think about the scriptures, pray, look for ways to help others, and share the gospel with others. During general conferences and at many other times, we will be taught by the Lord’s prophets, seers, and revelators. When we follow the counsel of the Brethren, we prepare ourselves to go to the temple, where we receive more power to overcome the sins of the world and to “stand in holy places” (D&C 45:32).

In a touching letter I received just this week, a mother wrote of her Marine son who is serving for the second time in a Middle Eastern war. She says that at the time of his first deployment, “he came home on leave and asked me to go for a walk. … He had his arm around me and he told me about going to war. He … said, ‘Mom, I have to go so you and the family can be free, free to worship as you please. … And if it costs me my life, … then giving my life is worth it.’” He is now there again and has written to his family recently, saying, “I am proud to be here serving my nation and our way of life. … I feel a lot safer knowing our Heavenly Father is with me.”

It all started—where else?—at church. It was fun for the family to get together and sing, and they began doing it at stake and ward functions in Oregon. Then one day a man asked them how much they’d charge to perform elsewhere. They said $25, and their professional careers were born.
Some families do jigsaw puzzles together; some ride bikes. The Potters performed—at fairs, shopping malls, civic events, that type of thing. It was fun, gave them some confidence, and kept them close. But suddenly, through a frightening turn of events, their performing became a life-or-death matter.
One day when Tuhk was modeling shorts, his mother noticed some terrible bruises on his legs, and they wouldn’t heal. A doctor’s checkup revealed the worst—he had leukemia. It would take a bone marrow transplant and over $100,000 to save his life.
Now the Potters were performing, without Tuhk, to earn money to help their little brother live. What they made didn’t go far, but the publicity they received did. Their ward, stake, and community rallied around them. Soon an offer came from the City of Hope, a medical facility in California, to donate Tuhk’s transplant and treatment.
The family sped south. All the Potter kids tested positive to be bone marrow donors, but Tarrish was selected. They went through weeks of fasting and prayer while their brother went through surgery and chemotherapy, part of it in strict isolation. That was especially hard on Tuhk.
They were also involved in weeks of missionary work. There was another family at the same hospital, up from Mexico, whose son Victor was in the same condition as Tuhk. Victor didn’t make it, but the family was able to bear the tragedy with the comfort of the gospel the Potters had shared with them. They were baptized, and when they returned to Mexico, the father eventually became a bishop.
The Potter family was elated when they found that Tuhk’s leukemia had finally gone into remission. When you meet him now, telling funny riddles or playing with Ninja Turtles, you’d never guess he’d once come so close to death.
But his malady had brought the whole family to the Los Angeles area, and since they were in one of the media capitals of the world, the kids decided to try their hand at something they were already good at—acting, modeling, performing. It worked. One by one, they began landing roles.
In a family with six children, you’d think there would be enough sibling rivalry without having to deal with the envy of one person getting more roles than another. But the Potters are amazingly supportive of each other. They love to watch the videotapes of each other’s commercials and parts, and they watch them over and over again, exclaiming, “Look—there he/she is! That’s a great one!”
Sometimes, two of the Potters are up for the same part. A while back Triskin landed a part as a veejay on Kidsongs, a Disney show that both she and Tarrish had tried out for. But there aren’t hard feelings. “You don’t get jealous; you just get sad,” says Tarrish. “It’s not your sister’s fault she got the part. You don’t hate her for it. It’s better that one of us gets it than none of us.”
The Potters’ living room walls are covered with framed pictures and mementos of all the work they’ve done. They will explain them to you if you ask, but they won’t automatically steer you toward their own. “That’s Tylee, that’s Talon, oh, and there’s me,” Trek will tell you, as he points to various frames on the walls.
Trek, 12, gets the most parts at the moment, but you’d never know it from his attitude. The money the kids make goes into a common fund. And after you subtract tithing, taxes, transportation, agents’ fees, managers’ fees, Screen Actors Guild fees, money for acting/voice/dance lessons, plus a myriad of other expenses, their profession might not seem as lucrative as you thought.
But hopefully it will be enough to pay for their missions and their college educations. The Potters take advanced classes now, and while a few of them would like to stay in show business, they realize college is important. “I’d like to be a vet or do something with animals,” says Triskin. “You can’t really depend on acting.”
But for now, they can depend on acting for something to talk about around the dinner table and for something to encourage each other about. Oh, and it does provide for a Ninja Turtle or two, a Game Boy, roller skates—a few little luxuries like that.
The Potters go to their auditions stoically, usually toting backpacks full of homework to do while they wait for their names to be called. If Trek doesn’t get a part today, maybe Tuhk will. And maybe they’ll start filming that movie tomorrow that Triskin has been promised a lead in. It’s only a matter of time before one of them hears those magic words, “Thanks, kid—you’re exactly what we need. We’ll see you at the studio on Saturday.” For the Potters, one person’s victory is everybody’s victory.

“When I was about ten or eleven years old, I was involved with Primary. My teacher, Sister Zundell, was a very special person. She always taught us so effectively about the Savior. Many times while she was teaching, a little tear would trickle down her cheek, and it always impressed me that she had such tender emotions about the Savior. She taught us about His life and His teachings, which had a profound effect upon me. I can’t tell you the words or the stories that she told us; but just the way she did it, with the tears that would come, had a great effect upon me and the others in the class.

Vanessa loves talking to Jessica about things that Jessica has already done. For instance, last winter Vanessa went to Winter Camp, a winter survival training course held in February for all fifth graders. Before she went, Jessica told her all about how fun it was to build “quinzhee” shelters out of snow and to play the survival games. It made Vanessa really excited about going and helped her not be nervous about the unknown.

This promise has been fulfilled for thousands of PEF participants, including Pablo Benitez of Uruguay. Pablo was working 12-hour days at a grocery store, barely scraping together a living, when he decided to change his life. He started attending school, but as the cost of tuition and fees increased, he found he was unable to finance his education alone.
Through PEF he was able to complete a degree in physical education. As a result, he has received several jobs over the years, each one improving his income. He even reports, “I often receive job offers for full-time work or substituting for others that I cannot accept because I do not have enough time. And all of this is thanks to the PEF and to the chances that opened up to me because of my schooling.”
Because of opportunities gained through education, Pablo can support his family while serving and building his community as a teacher.

One day while I was at church, one of the sisters expressed to me that she was feeling lonely. Like her, I was also a widow and lived by myself. Suddenly, I had an idea: why didn’t we get together on Mondays and hold family home evening? We could also invite other sisters who lived alone.
I did a little research and found eight women in our ward who might participate. Six were widows, one was single, and one’s husband wasn’t a member of the Church.
With my bishop’s approval, I arranged for all of us to hold family home “afternoons” together. (We hold it early in the day because most of us don’t see well and don’t like being out after dark.) We take turns meeting in each other’s homes and giving a brief lesson. Perhaps the most important thing that has come from this is a true feeling of friendship that binds us together in love as sisters.
All of us eagerly await our family home “afternoons.” We feel happy to be studying the gospel together, and we enjoy wonderful friendships that strengthen our faith and our love for the Lord Jesus Christ.