Gospel Story Finder

Twelve-year-old Monica Saili loves swimming. She is one of the top young swimmers in New Zealand. She may be part fish.
Well, the fish part probably isn’t true. But the only other explanation for why she’s so good is because she trains so hard.
She’s at the pool for two hours every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning at 5:00 a.m. On Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday she runs track or cross-country after school.
Her least favorite swimming drill is having to do the butterfly stroke with just one arm, keeping her chin up, and alternating arms every 100 meters. “Your shoulders really burn,” she says.
But she’s learned that when the going gets hard, giving up doesn’t make life easier. Doing the hard work is what makes her stronger.
All that hard work has helped. She started winning medals at age 10. At 11 she was in the country’s top 10 for her age group in the butterfly stroke. At 12 she was selected for a development swimming camp with the national team and was picked to swim in the Oceania Games in Samoa against swimmers from other countries.
She says, “My dad always said, ‘Success comes with hard work. It doesn’t just land in your lap.’”
Monica learned that is true for swimming, and she found out it’s also true in life when her father died unexpectedly a few months after her 11th birthday.
“I was very close to my dad,” Monica says. “He started me in swimming. He took me to all my practices and competitions. When he died, I felt like I had no one to talk to.”
Losing her father was hard. But Monica doesn’t give up during difficult practices, so when her dad died, she wasn’t going to give up on her faith in Heavenly Father either.
“My dad was my example,” she says. “He taught me how to live the gospel.”
Since his death Monica has started studying the scriptures before bed, “trying to make it a habit,” she says. She stands up for her beliefs at school. “I get a lot of questions about the Church,” she says. And she serves as the ward music director.
“I am blessed for being a member,” Monica says. “I am comforted when I get too stressed.”
Monica still misses her father. But with the support of her mother and family, she keeps going.
Her life is full of piano and violin lessons, student council meetings, swimming, Personal Progress, and leading the music during sacrament meeting.
She doesn’t know yet how far her swimming will take her or how long she’ll stick with it. But as far as the gospel is concerned, she is determined to stick with that to the end.
“Sometimes life is hard,” Monica says. “But doing hard things can make us stronger. You just have to keep swimming.”

The Holy Ghost will also guide you as you make decisions regarding your future. Another young woman I know was dating a tall, handsome young man—the star of the school basketball team and senior class president. While discussing their future plans, she explained that she had made a decision a long time ago to marry a returned missionary in the temple. A mission was not part of his plans, and nothing more was said. The following Christmas, he gave her a small gift. As she opened it, she realized that it was a letter from a prophet of God calling her friend to serve a mission. Her righteous influence helped him make that important decision.

As a young boy, I was motivated to read a large-print copy of the Book of Mormon because it featured illustrations by Arnold Friberg. Although the images were sparse in comparison to the prose overall, my goal was to start from the beginning and read the pages in-between, looking forward with great anticipation to the next picture. These included Samuel the Lamanite preaching with outstretched arms, perched on top of the city wall, unharmed by a flood of arrows, and an aging Lehi and his family crossing the sea.

An incentive for reading the Book of Mormon in my teenage years was food, promised by teachers at church. Later as a missionary in South Carolina I memorized dozens of scriptures to learn the fundamental doctrines of the gospel. At BYU-Provo, I sought out specific religion professors, ones who could offer substantive insight. My focus of study changed as a mature adult once I began to prepare lessons for youth and gospel doctrine classes. Now, as a YSA bishop, I find myself reading differently than ever before, carefully searching out individual words and passages that may have been glossed over earlier.

Comparable to a layered understanding of the scriptures, our view of the temple changes too, throughout our lives. When we first go through for ourselves, we may not fully grasp the meaning of the endowment. But, after giving our best efforts and staying true to what we've learned, our confidence and resolve expand. We refine our ability to seek answers through revelation. Eventually this sustained effort, over a period of years, helps us grow into our covenants. Looking back, we begin to sense our Heavenly Father's steady, yet unseen, hand and the wisdom of His intervening at particular times and places.

Some 12 years ago, there was a tennis match with two LDS physicians and a nonmember medical student from Brazil. With no intervening communication, last month in Curitiba, Brazil, Valentim Goncalves stood by me again, not on a tennis court but instead in a regional conference to translate for me. Thanks to his innate goodness and the good work of others, ophthalmologist Valentim is not only a member but is a stake president in Curitiba. Valentim and his special wife, sealed in the temple, have been blessed with three lovely children. This remarkable rendezvous added to my already appreciative wonder over the workings of the hand of the Lord (see D&C 59:21).

Cooper’s video game system was getting old. Whenever he raced cars, the screen froze and he had to restart the game.
“Can I get a new game system for my birthday?” Cooper asked Dad.
Dad shook his head. “I don’t think it fits into our budget. Remember how we spent quite a bit of money last year to buy your guitar and pay for music lessons?”
Cooper frowned. He wasn’t taking music lessons anymore.
“What if I earn the money?” Cooper asked. “Then maybe you could help me order one online.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Dad said.
Cooper went to work doing extra chores and mowing lawns for neighbors. He saved all summer.
Finally he had enough money, and Dad sent it to an online seller advertising the best price for the gaming system Cooper wanted.
Cooper couldn’t wait. Whenever the mailman came, Cooper checked the mailbox. When a delivery truck came down his street, Cooper hoped it was bringing a package for him. But none of the trucks stopped at his house. Weeks went by.
“When is it going to get here?” Cooper asked.
Dad looked worried. “I’m not sure. The seller never sent me the tracking number.”
A few days later, Dad told Cooper some bad news. “I think the seller we chose is dishonest. I can’t contact him on the phone or through email.”
Cooper couldn’t believe it. “You mean he stole my money?”
“It looks that way.”
Cooper hoped it wasn’t true. At night he prayed for a way to still get the gaming system he’d earned. The next day he asked Dad if he could have one for Christmas, but Dad just said, “I’m sorry this happened. Next time we’ll both know to be more careful.”
It seemed there was only one thing left to do: start saving money again. But school had started and Cooper didn’t have as much time for extra chores. “It isn’t fair,” he complained to himself as he sat moping in his room one afternoon. Then he noticed something he hadn’t paid much attention to for a while—his guitar.
Cooper picked it up and tuned it. He strummed a few chords and played through the songs he’d learned. It didn’t take long because he hadn’t had many lessons. He sat with the guitar on his lap, his fingers itching to play something new. He wondered if he could make up a song of his own.
A few hours later, Cooper played his brand new song all the way through. It felt so great that he couldn’t wait to write another one.
Cooper practiced his guitar all winter. He read books about playing the guitar. And when he had time, he earned a little extra money.
When spring came, Dad said, “How are the savings coming? Are you ready to pick out a new gaming system?”
Cooper thought about it. “I don’t know if I want one anymore.”
Sometimes he played video games at his friends’ houses, but he hadn’t really missed playing them at home. Playing guitar was fun, and he felt like he’d accomplished something great every time he wrote or learned a new song.
“I think I’ll leave the money in savings until I know what I want to use it for,” Cooper said.
“Sounds smart.”
Cooper was surprised at how much fun he was having playing his guitar. All year long, his plan had been to play video games. Now he didn’t even miss them. Heavenly Father hadn’t helped him get the video game system, but He had blessed Cooper with something better—the ability to be happy without it.

Photograph of tablet by iStockphoto/Thinkstock
One day my companion and I were leaving an apartment building when we ran into a 19-year-old young woman named Grace.
We said hello, introduced ourselves, and asked if we could discuss our message further. Because she’d just met us, Grace wasn’t willing to give us her phone number. But thinking on our feet, we decided to give her a Mormon.org pass-along card and quickly wrote our Facebook profile names on it.
To our surprise, Grace added us on Facebook and began eagerly asking us questions through Facebook Chat about who we were and what we believed. My companion and I turned these first conversations into discussions of the Restoration. We actually ended up teaching almost all of the Preach My Gospel lessons to her through Facebook, which was unusual even for us. Later we also taught her the lessons in person.
After a few weeks, we invited Grace to participate in a Church meetinghouse tour. We felt the Spirit strongly that day as we used the pictures hanging on the stake center’s walls to teach her the gospel. After the tour, Grace gave us her phone number. We continued to maintain daily contact with her through Facebook, texts, and in-person lessons.
Many members of the ward, including the ward mission leader, fellowshipped Grace, helping her feel like she belonged. One member who accompanied us to the meetinghouse tour helped Grace feel comfortable, came to other lessons, and invited her to watch general conference with us in his home.
Shortly after Grace attended Sunday meetings for the first time, my companion and I felt prompted to invite her to be baptized. She said yes! Because of our daily contacts and invitations, she’d gained a testimony of the Book of Mormon and of living prophets for herself, and she chose to be baptized.
I’m grateful for social media and the support of members—both of which made all the difference in Grace’s conversion.

For fans of true crime, here’s a personal story related to forgiving our enemies. I love riding bikes. I love the feeling of riding on my own power wherever I want to go. I love the challenging physics involved as well, but I won’t subject you to that today. The first bike I ever bought was a forest green mountain bike that I got when I was about 14 years old. I rode it every day. One day, I took it to a youth activity and parked it outside our church building. When the activity ended, I went outside and saw that someone had stolen that beautiful, green bike. I felt gutted. I don’t remember if I cried, but I probably did. I could not understand why anyone would do something that hurt me like that, and I remember being so angry as I slowly walked home from the church that night. I try not to make enemies, but during that bitter walk home, I’m sure I considered that thief my enemy.

I told my friends to keep their eye out for my stolen bike. Weeks later, I got a knock on my door. Two of my older sister’s friends had seen their neighbor riding a bike that matched my description. When they followed him home and confronted him about it, he admitted that he had taken it. They gave me my bike and revealed the identity of the thief. He was someone I knew. He was a member of the church, and I was friends with his little sister. Even though I was relieved and happy to have my bike back, I was still angry with him. Not long after, there was another knock on my door. I opened it to find the thief—my enemy—on the doorstep. He seemed nervous—even on the verge of tears; he said he was sorry and asked me not to call the police. I don’t remember if I had even considered doing that, but I told him that I wouldn’t report it to the police. Then, I was surprised to hear myself say that I forgave him and I was even more surprised to feel like I meant it. He seemed relieved, thanked me, and left. I don’t remember ever talking to him again. I’m convinced that God gave me the help I needed to frankly forgive this person who had caused me so much grief. I promise you that He will also provide a way for you to accomplish whatever He asks of you.

Here’s a twist ending to my bike story: five years later, while I was a student here at Ricks College, I learned that the guy who stole my bike had died. He was only 20 years old. I remember feeling profound relief that I had been able to forgive him when he had asked me to; I didn’t have any regrets or doubts about the way I had responded to his apology.

But I often felt out of place at church because I was learning so many new things. I bought some new long skirts to replace my short ones. When I wore them to church, I found out they were still too short to meet Church standards. I didn’t understand what my friends meant when they used Church-related abbreviations. I was too nervous and shy to ask them the meanings of things.
What helped was the teens befriending me and taking time to include me. They seemed to have a natural way of caring for new members. Another thing that helped was visualizing my family in the next life. I never wanted them to be disappointed in me for not living the gospel when I knew it to be true. Even though times were difficult when I was a teenager, I tried to think of the future and my responsibility to my family. If I did not live the gospel, how would my family ever have a chance of accepting it?

Trials can motivate us to grow and progress, as the life of Florence Chukwurah of Lagos, Nigeria, illustrates. In her youth, Sister Chukwurah worked tirelessly to overcome the financial distress in which her family lived. “I determined to break from poverty by seeking God earnestly,” she recalls. “I decided to be obedient to my parents and to older people. I decided to be serious with my schoolwork. And I made up my mind to work hard with my hands.” Through great effort and determination, she was able to help care for her family and to pursue an education, eventually earning nursing and midwifery degrees. Even greater than her desire for material success was her longing to have a family anchored to the Savior and his teachings. She and her husband, who shared her spiritual hunger, prayed diligently to find the truth. When they were finally introduced to the Church, they knew their prayers had been answered.
Today, Sister Chukwurah is grateful for the blessings that came as she struggled with her difficulties. “The Lord heard my prayers,” she testifies. “He understood my struggles and my search for a bright and happy future. He crowned my efforts with blessings too many for me to express. Since I have joined the Church, I wake up with peace in my heart. I sing in my heart all the time” (“Florence Chukwurah: The Miracle of Change,” Liahona, June 1996, 12).

Anthony Quasie had a life-changing experience while just a boy growing up in Cape Coast Ghana. His mother told him that when he was 5 years old, he witnessed a man, who was hired to help at his home, cut the neck of a chicken just enough for the chicken to run around in pain before dying. He remembers his mother saying that “I folded my arms and cried all day”, and when it came time to eat the chicken, it made him very sick. He grew up not liking it when people mistreated animals.

Our family has a dear friend, Mary, who passed away several years ago. She spent the last fifteen years of her life bedridden in a nursing home due to the effects of a stroke. When she was a young mother with three little children, her life was very busy! One day she went to visit a friend, and as they talked, her friend asked, “Mary, are you going to have any more children?” Mary answered with an emphatic, “No! I am done having children!” She told me that later that night when she was back in her home, she stewed over what she said to her friend. She regretted her words. In her prayers that night, she apologized to the Lord for what she said to her friend and told the Lord that if He wanted her to have more children, she would do it. A short time later, she found out that she was pregnant with her fourth and what would be her last child—a little boy. Then Mary told me, “That boy has been so good to me!” I love this story! It is the beautiful story of a humble woman who let God prevail in her life. I am confident that the Lord was grateful for Mary’s devotion, and He blessed her with this son. Of all her loving children, this son lived closest to the nursing home, and he spent many hours taking good care of his mother when she needed it the most.

I sank into my chair in shame as the teacher introduced the lesson on chastity. “Now, I know you girls don’t have trouble with the law of chastity … ,” she started off. Little did she—or anyone else—know that it was something I had struggled with as a young woman.

Lessons in church made me feel that sexual feelings were only appropriate within marriage and that sexual feelings outside of marriage were bad. I felt ashamed, weak, and alone, which led me to resent the whole topic completely.

Growing up in the Church, I used to think that talking about sex—even in appropriate ways—or acknowledging sexual thoughts and feelings was taboo or wrong unless you were married. My thoughts were skewed to think that any curiosity or question about sexuality or even chastity should be repressed because it didn’t follow God’s plan. And because I thought my questions were too shameful to discuss with anyone, I looked for answers from sources that did not reflect sexuality the way Heavenly Father intends.

I struggled with my feelings and behaviors for years. I knew they were wrong, but I didn’t know who I could turn to for help. I carried the weight of sins and shame with me every day, but I still tried to do everything else right. I seemed to be stuck in an “in-between zone”—with half of me in the world and the other half in the gospel.

I wanted more than anything to put my whole self in the gospel. So I studied my scriptures, I prayed, I participated in Church activities, and I fulfilled my callings. The gospel seemed to be the only thing that brought me relief.

As I gradually learned more and came closer to the Savior, my desire to fully live the law of chastity grew stronger. After a lot of pondering and praying, I finally decided to talk with my bishop about my struggles.

As I left my bishop’s office, that weight I had carried on my shoulders for so many years seemed to disappear. I cried with relief. I already felt the Savior’s healing power working in my life. Meetings with my bishop helped me, through the repentance process, to understand that my feelings were normal and that I wasn’t alone in struggling with chastity. I learned there are others—like me—who have suffered in silence because of shame, fear, and misunderstanding.

I was assigned to depict the Resurrection for the Coimbatore District open house during the Easter season. I was worried a bit about it, though I was pretty good at art and other work. My confidence was low since the suggested topic was on the final week of the Savior’s mortal life for me to portray. I was led by the Spirit to pray and ask for the Lord’s help and inspiration. This verse from the Holy Bible came to my mind as an answer to my prayer. It was Jeremiah 33:3.
I went on making objects like a crown of thorns, nails and whip, I pricked my finger many times while collecting the thorns. The pain I had and the few drops of blood which came out of my fingers made me to realize the love of our Heavenly Father, especially His unconditional love which is greater than anybody could give or receive on this earth. I felt so grateful that Christ had paid the penalty for my sins and has given me a chance to repent and to return to him. My daughter Saritha, along with the branch young single adults, helped me put our thoughts into reality.
On making the tomb to depict the Resurrection of Christ, I felt even happier that I can have my body restored to their proper and perfect frame [see Alma 40:23]. The Atonement helps me to prepare myself to meet God and the Resurrection helps me to live again. I know Jesus Christ is my Savior and Redeemer. I love Him for who He is and what He did for me.

One day a stranger came to our door. She introduced herself as Barbara and told us that she was looking for household work so that she could pay her power bill. My mother invited her in and listened to her. Mother told her that we didn’t have much money but that we would share what we had. Mother asked if she would clean a window to earn some money. While she was cleaning, we talked to her and found out that she had three young children and no job and had just recently moved from another city.
As she cleaned the window, we felt impressed that she needed some clothes, toys, and food for her children. My little sister, my mother, and I began preparing a box for her to take home. I put some of my toys in the box for the children. I wanted to give something more, so I decided to give her the money that I had been saving for a toy that I really wanted, money I had earned by working at my Grandpa Brown’s house.
I also wanted to share the gospel with her. I knew it would help her. It is so important to my life, and I knew it could help her family, too. I gave her a copy of the Book of Mormon and explained that we belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I bore my testimony. I taught her the plan of salvation, using a chart that I had. She listened and took the Book of Mormon.
After some lunch, Barbara left. My mother read Matthew 25:34–40 to my little sister and me and told us that when we helped Barbara, it was as if we had done those things to the Savior. I felt the Spirit, and I knew that I had done something that Jesus would have done for another.

“Dad loves to take his grandchildren on an imaginary lion hunt, where they all try to find a make-believe lion. First, they pretend to sit on the seat of a car. Then when they arrive at the airport, they climb invisible steps to get on the airplane. Once inside the plane, everyone fastens his safety belt and leans way back in his chair as the plane takes off. When the plane lands, everyone comes down the stairs and walks over to a jeep. They climb in and, because the jeep ride is bumpy, everyone joggles up and down.
“When the jeep stops, everyone jumps out and gets an imaginary rope and gun to put over his shoulder. They wade through long grass and reeds—swish-swish-swish. They come to a bridge and everyone crosses over it—clump-clump-clump. Then they come to the place where the lions are, and they throw their ropes up around a rock to secure them. They all climb up the rope to get into a cave so they can creep up on the lion. The lion roars—GRRRR!! All of the brave lion hunters run out of the cave, slide down the rope, go clumping over the bridge, run swishing through the reeds, take off their ropes and guns, get back into the jeep, and take the bumpy ride back to the airport. Finally they arrive back home safe and sound after a great trip!”

The family talked of the times when Dad has been home: of camping trips in the Shenandoah Mountains when deer would eat right out of their hands, of water slides and visits to the Cherokee reservation, of playing baseball and football together, of trips to the beach.
“One time, just as we were leaving to pick up Dad, I slipped and cut my chin,” Nathan said. “Dad had been waiting 30 minutes before he found out we were at the emergency room.”

Build spirituality. Young people are capable of rising to meet spiritual challenges. For a youth conference a few years ago, stake leaders took the young people to an amusement park. The next year they tried a different type of activity. Following the counsel of Church leaders, they decided to take the focus off entertainment and put it on experiencing true joy by planning spiritual workshops and service projects. At first the teenagers weren’t very excited about the change, but as the conference progressed, they began to see things in a new light. The testimony meeting at the end of that conference was far different from the one a year earlier when, as one of the leaders described it, “Most of the youth just sat and giggled and poked each other.” This time, the young people were eager to express their joy at having served others and their love for Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.

My father had an idea that his boys ought to learn to work, and so he bought a five-acre farm which eventually grew to include more than 30 acres. We lived there in the summer and returned to the city when school started.
We had a large orchard, and the trees had to be pruned each spring. We learned a great truth—that you could pretty well determine the kind of fruit you would pick in September by the way you pruned in February. Further, we learned that new, young wood produces the best fruit. That has many applications in life.

When Hurricane Harvey hit Houston, Texas, USA, Hailey and London wanted to help. They saw news stories about libraries whose books had been ruined in the flood. Hailey and London love reading, so they decided to raise money for new books. They made more than 165 “Texas Strong” stickers. People from all over bought the stickers. Hailey and London donated all the money to their favorite library in Houston.

I’m not sure why my mom showed me the note that afternoon. The oldest of six children and a junior in high school, I couldn’t wait to graduate and move out on my own. I was tired of having to be the example and of baby-sitting my siblings whenever my parents wanted to go out.
Perhaps my mother knew, somehow, that sharing the note from Michael was the best thing she could have done for me that day. I arrived home from school earlier than my three brothers and two sisters. I confess I was impatient when my mom said, “I want to show you something.”
I followed her into my brother’s room, where she picked up a note from his pillow. In his 11-year-old scrawl, Michael had written, “I’m not coming home today. I’m not part of this family.”
I could feel the tears spill over onto my cheeks. Mom said, “Let’s pick him up from school today.”
I was too choked up to say anything. I nodded to my mother and resolved to myself, No one in our family will ever feel this way again.
We got to the school just as classes were being dismissed. Michael was surprised to see us but happy we were there. He never said a word about his note. He never wrote another one.
Michael and I became the best of friends. And although thousands of kilometers sometimes came between us when I left home after graduating from high school, we continued to be close.
The day I saw the note from Michael was the day I realized no one is more important than those we call “family.”