Gospel Story Finder

Several years back, some youth from my branch and I were returning from an activity and were standing alongside a lonely road waiting for a bus. Finally we saw a car coming. It stopped, and the driver was my former teacher, Mr. Enemor. We had not seen each other for some years. With great joy on his face, he exclaimed, “Ihenkoro, it’s been quite some time. You’ve grown big.”
Having him stop seemed a miracle, for we had been there for hours without seeing any cars. Now we would not even have to pay for a ride. As we drove, Mr. Enemor asked, “Where are you people coming from?”
I replied, “From a Church program.”
He said, “Oh, that’s nice. How I wish every young person would attend church. This country would be fine.” Then he asked, “Which church?”
“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” I told him.
“Mormon? Are you a Mormon?”
I said yes.
He said, “That is not a church. I have heard about them.” He pulled over and said we should get out of his car. We did.
With a smile on my face, I said to him, “Thank you, sir, for the ride. I know you will one day bear a testimony of this Church.” He drove away, and we stood for another hour and a half before we could get a bus home.
I knew I would have to pay a price to be a good missionary. We all have to pay a price for anything of value. Our Savior showed us that when He paid the price for our sins.
I wanted to share the gospel with Mr. Enemor, so I went to his house. He never allowed me in, but I dropped off several Church pamphlets and a Church magazine for him.
Many months after that I received a letter from him. In the letter he asked, “Please forgive me for what I did to you that evening. I owe you an apology and all our thanks. My family and I are now members of that church I was once against. I am now a Latter-day Saint.”
Brother Enemor and his family are strong members of the Church in Abuja, Nigeria. He and his family have been sealed in the temple. He still writes me and always says, “I thank you for leading me to the light.”
We gain a living by what we get, but we gain a life by what we give. We can give the gospel and bring light to the lives of many others. People may forget what you say and what you do, but they don’t forget how you make them feel. Go and make them feel good by giving them the gospel light. I have been blessed with great rewards for the small price I paid to share the gospel with someone who at first spurned me for my beliefs.

Taking to heart the theme of their youth conference, Be Thou an Example—Strength through Service, youth from the Reno Nevada North Stake showed a lot of strength. One day of the conference was spent on a spring cleanup project at the Rancho San Rafael Regional Park. More than 134 youth were grouped in “families” and worked a total of 670 hours and filled 225 large garden bags with leaves and debris.
That evening youth-conference “families” performed cultural presentations from various countries or regions around the world to reflect the theme of being an example to all the world. The conference concluded with a testimony meeting.

Martin follows Jesus by learning about Him. When Martin met the missionaries, they gave him a pamphlet about Jesus Christ. Martin is visually impaired, so he couldn’t read the small words. But he still wanted to learn more.
The missionaries gave Martin a copy of the Book of Mormon in braille. Braille is a form of written language for people who are blind or visually impaired.
Martin chose to be baptized with his dad. “I’m thankful for the Church of Jesus Christ,” Martin says. “I know it’s true.”

President Grant was always ready to give. After an energetic conference talk in San Diego, the President invited Joseph to play golf with him. “I had never played golf, … but I couldn’t very well turn him down,” Elder Anderson reminisced. The President arranged for a lesson and a pail of golf balls to practice with, and then they played a number of holes. The next day in Los Angeles President Grant suffered a debilitating heart attack. On the way to the hospital, he whispered, “‘Joseph, you made some very good strokes yesterday.’ I said, ‘Yes, President, I’m afraid you’ve converted me. I will have to get some clubs and get busy.’ ‘Don’t you worry about the clubs,’ he said, ‘I’ll take care of that. I’ll buy them.’”

Some time ago I was in this same situation. My friend, who is not yet a member of the Church, went to a bar and brought back two bottles of beer. I said to him, “Don’t you know my Latter-day Saint principles?” He answered, “Excuse me, I had forgotten; so I have no friend to drink with.” Then he surprised me. He threw the two bottles in the garbage. He always goes out with me now, but he does not drink.
Our examples influence other people. We need to follow the example of Jesus Christ.

The summer after Mother came home was wonderful. Primary was grand! We had Primary on weekday mornings. One week we made little dolls out of stockings. Then we made them little leather dresses. We cut fringe into the bottom of the dresses and added beading. Then we braided their hair. We also embroidered faces for them. We made them little beds out of cardboard and yarn.
Primary was the beginning of my testimony. I learned the gospel there and felt the Spirit through good music. I remember the leaders who taught us the songs with so much energy. Singing was fun! I don’t remember anybody telling me what I was feeling, but it was the Spirit. That’s the kind of power that good music has.

One of President Taylor’s sons, Moses W., described his father’s character through sharing family memories. He wrote:
“When gathering the fruit in the fall, father would come and inspect the baskets and selecting the largest and best fruit would say:
“‘Take the tithing out of this and be sure and pay it in full.’
“When planting trees, he was very careful to make the rows straight, each tree had to be plumb. When filling the dirt around the roots we were required to take great care of the little fibres and carefully lay each one in its place. He would remark:
“‘Take care of the little roots and the large ones will take care of themselves.’
“The first time I left home, father called me in and gave me the following counsel:
“‘Do what is right. Live your religion and the bad men will honor you for it as well as the good.’
“That is all he said, but it made such a strong impression on me, that it has saved me many a time from falling into temptation. At other times, he would say:
“‘Take the high stand and always live so that others can see that you are on a high plane.’
“He had a strong desire to keep his children under the family influence and provided play grounds for us. Even when he was past seventy years of age he would join us in our games. …
“… He was held in such high esteem by his children that to please him seemed to be their greatest desire.”20

Name a town?
In a small town in Kentucky, USA, the very first postmaster didn’t think much of his own handwriting. He figured that if a town had a number as its name, then it’d be easier to read and understand that name on an envelope even if somebody had bad handwriting.
He reached into his pocket, counted the loose change (88 cents), and Eighty Eight, Kentucky, was born. The town name stuck and has been used ever since.1

Most boys go through their whole lives being called by one name, or at most by two. A boy born in Warrington, Lancashire, England, on March 15, 1857, was called Henry as a child. He was called Brigham after settling in Utah, and he is now known throughout the Church as B. H., one of the great writers of Mormon history. The personal life history of B. H. Roberts is almost as interesting to read as the many exciting events about which he wrote.
When his mother joined the Church and decided to immigrate to America, she was able to take only two of her four children. She left twelve-year-old Mary and five-year-old Henry in England. Mary was apprenticed to distant relatives who owned a kiln.
A couple who had just joined the Church agreed to take the boy. They wandered about England with him, working when they could and begging when no work was available. When they found that Henry had an appealing voice, they took him each night into the taverns to entertain the crowd by singing English ballads.
Henry was often lonely and always felt unloved. By the time he was seven the couple were constantly quarreling, neither wanting the boy. They decided to enlist him in the army as a drummer boy. He was measured for a uniform, a ribbon was fastened to his coat, and he was told to report for duty the next morning.
That night Henry dreamed of his mother. He knew the army enlistment would be binding until he was twenty-one, and he wanted to be free when his mother sent for him as she had promised to do when she left. Quietly slipping on his clothes and tucking his wooden clogs under his arms so he wouldn’t make any noise, the boy crept out into the cold dark street.
Two years later Henry’s mother finally secured enough money to pay for the children to join her in Utah. It was months before the elders found the boy at Wolverhampton and arranged for him to sail to America.
After a long and hard journey west, the children finally reached the Salt Lake Valley. Henry was described by his sister as “a thing of shreds and patches.” She tried to hide him in one of the wagons when the party reached the mouth of Emigration Canyon and started toward the city. But the desperately lonely little boy crept out of the wagon and ran through the streets to find his mother. She was waiting at the Tithing Yard. He flew into her welcoming arms. Henry had found a home at last!
With new clothes and a new name (since the family decided he was to be called Brigham now), the nine-year-old boy began a new life. When the blacksmith to whom he was apprenticed gave him time off to go to school and learn to read, Brigham found a new and exciting world. He became a missionary, a mission president, an editor, a writer, a historian, and a General Authority of the Church.

May I now paint a picture of such a situation. In faraway Bucharest, Romania, Dr. Lynn Oborn, volunteering at an orphanage, was attempting to teach little Raymond, who had never walked, how to use his legs. Raymond had been born with severe clubfeet and was completely blind. Recent orthopedic surgery performed by Dr. Oborn had corrected the clubfeet, but Raymond was still unable to use his legs. Dr. Oborn knew that a child-size walker would enable Raymond to get on his feet, but such a walker was not available anywhere in Romania. I’m sure fervent prayers were offered by this doctor who had done all he could without a walking aid for the boy. Blindness can hamper a child, but inability to walk, to run, to play can injure his precious spirit.
Let us turn now to Provo, Utah. The Richard Headlee family, learning of the suffering in Romania, joined with others to help fill a 40-foot (12-m) container with 40,000 pounds (18,000 kg) of needed supplies, including food, clothing, medicine, blankets, and toys. The project deadline arrived, and the container had to be shipped that day. No one involved with the project knew of the particular need for a child-size walker. However, at the last possible moment, a family brought forth a child’s walker and placed it in the container.
When the anxiously awaited container arrived at the orphanage in Bucharest, Dr. Oborn was present as it was opened. Every item it contained would be put to immediate use at the orphanage. As the Headlee family introduced themselves to Dr. Oborn, he said, “Oh, I hope you brought me a child’s walker for Raymond!”
One of the Headlee family members responded, “I can vaguely remember something like a walker, but I don’t know its size.” Another family member was dispatched back into the container, crawling among all the bales of clothes and boxes of food, searching for the walker. When he found it, he lifted it up and cried out, “It’s a little one!” Cheers erupted—which quickly turned to tears—for they all knew they had been part of a modern-day miracle.
There may be some who say, “We don’t have miracles today.” But the doctor whose prayers were answered would respond, “Oh, yes we do, and Raymond is walking!” She who was inspired to give the walker was a willing vessel and surely would agree.
Who was the angel of mercy touched by the Lord to play a vital role in this human drama? Her name is Kristin, and she was born with spina bifida, as was her younger sister, Erika. The two as children spent long days and worrisome nights in the hospital. Modern medicine, lovingly practiced, along with help from our Heavenly Father brought a measure of mobility to each. Neither is downhearted. Both inspire others to carry on. Kristin is now a college student living on her own, and Erika is an active high school student.
It was once my opportunity to tell Kristin, who had sent her walker to Romania, “Thank you for listening to the Spirit of the Lord. You have been the instrument in the Lord’s hands to answer a doctor’s prayer, a child’s wish.”
Later, I offered my own “Thank You” to God for children, for families, for miracles in our time.

Let me contrast her painful despair with another family’s hope in Christ during a heartbreaking time.

Twenty-one years ago the newborn son of my nephew Ben Andersen and his wife, Robbie, was life-flighted from their Idaho farming community to Salt Lake City. I arrived at the hospital, and Ben explained the severe, life-threatening complications with their baby’s heart. We placed our hands on Trey’s tiny head. The Lord blessed him with continued life.

Trey had heart surgery the first week of his life, and more surgeries followed. As the years passed, it became apparent that Trey would need a heart transplant. Although his physical activities were limited, his faith expanded. He wrote, “I have never felt sorry for myself because I have always known the importance of having faith in Jesus Christ and a testimony of the plan of salvation.”

Trey kept on his phone this well-known quote from President Nelson: “The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.”

Trey wrote: “I have always looked forward to serving a full-time mission, but … my doctors won’t let me serve a mission until at least a year after my transplant. … I’ve put my faith in Jesus Christ.”

Trey was excited at being accepted into the accounting major at BYU beginning this semester, but even more excited in late July when he received the very anticipated telephone call to come to the hospital for his heart transplant.

“One year,” Trey said, “and I will be on my mission.”

There were great expectations as he entered the operating room. However, during the surgery there were devastating complications, and Trey never regained consciousness.

His mother, Robbie, said: “Friday had been the most heartbreaking day … just trying to wrap our minds around it. … I had stayed up late just trying to process everything. … But Saturday, I woke up with a feeling of absolute joy. It wasn’t just peace; it wasn’t denial. I felt joy for my son, and I felt joy as his mother. … Ben had gotten up a lot earlier than me, and when we finally got a chance to talk, Ben had awakened with the exact same feeling.”

Ben explained: “Clarity came to my soul as God taught me through His Holy Spirit. I awoke at 4:00 a.m. and was filled with indescribable peace and joy. How is this possible? … The passing of Trey is so very painful, and I miss him so much. But the Lord does not leave us comfortless. … I look forward to a joyful reunion.”

Trey had noted in his journal these words from President Nelson’s general conference talk: “It doesn’t seem possible to feel joy when your child suffers with an incurable illness or when you lose your job or when your spouse betrays you. Yet that is precisely the joy the Savior offers. His joy is constant, assuring us that our ‘afflictions shall be but a small moment’ [Doctrine and Covenants 121:7] and be consecrated to our gain.”

When I was 12, some of the girls in my new school invited me to a birthday party. It was the first party with these school friends I had been invited to. When I asked my parents if I could go, they said no because the party started too late.
A short time later, I got another invitation. I again asked my parents, but they again said no, and I got mad. Couldn’t I have any fun?
Then one of my closest friends planned a party. I was one of the first people she invited. The party started earlier than the others. It would be private and held near my home. I asked my parents for permission to go, and they said yes! I was excited.
The day arrived. As my parents drove me there, they said that they would pick me up at 10:00 p.m. When I got to the party, I found my girlfriends. Twenty minutes later, I still hadn’t seen the birthday girl.
A few minutes later, a young man came up to us and asked, “Have you brought money for the pisto?” He made a sign that let me know that “pisto” was beer. My girlfriends gave in at the request for money. I didn’t have any money with me, so I decided to go off with some other girls while these ones did their business.
Finally, the birthday girl arrived—an hour late. I congratulated her, and while we were talking, a big truck arrived. Five men got out and unloaded two crates of beer. Everyone crowded around and started handing out the beer. My girlfriends went off, and I was alone, watching those young people fighting to drink beer.
My girlfriends came over and offered me some. “No, thanks,” I told them. They again insisted. I again said no. My heart started beating fast, and I felt strange, like in a suspense movie where I was the main character and I was trapped in the middle of nowhere. Then I heard a car horn—it was my parents! I made my exit with a single good-bye and ran to the car.
I got in, breathing hard. I started thinking how heavy the environment felt where I had been. My mom asked if I was all right. “Yes,” I replied, “but something surprised me.”
“What surprised you?” asked my father.
“All my friends were drinking, and there I was, startled, waiting for something good to happen. How I wished for you both to get here, and now I’m here.” I looked at the car clock; it wasn’t yet 10:00.
My mom said, “That’s how parties are in the world. That was why we didn’t allow you to go to previous parties.”
That night when I prayed, I thanked my Heavenly Father that my parents had arrived early.

I feel happy with that decision I made to not drink. I thought that I would be made fun of afterwards, but my friends ended up with more respect for me because they know my standards. After that, I have not been afraid to say no to what I know will harm me.

In Cape Coast, Ghana, Evans Kwame Nyan, a young single adult from the Yamoransa Ghana Stake, passionately shares the gospel as the instructor for the temple-preparation class in the Moree Second Ward. He has played a key role in teaching his cousin, ward members, and childhood friends about the importance of putting on the whole armor of God and becoming disciples of Christ by making sacred temple covenants.
Reflecting on his experiences, Evans shared, “Spending time with those I taught in the temple was a wonderful experience. I’ll always remember the feelings of joy I had standing with them.”
In addition to his spiritual commitments, Evans recently completed a driving course at his Gathering Place and is eager to pursue further education. His dedication to both faith and personal growth makes him a true inspiration in his community.

The oldest of four children, I learned as a boy on a small farm near the town of Escalante, Utah, how to work. When I was about two years old, my father was called to serve a mission. When I was three, I helped my mother by carrying in wood and chips for the stove and by helping tend the animals. Later, I drove the cows to pasture in the morning and brought them back in the evening. I also helped harvest a large garden, fruit trees, and grain and alfalfa fields. My father had several thousand sheep, and I helped care for them as they grazed in the mountains or desert.

You know that feeling where you’re surrounded by people but still feel completely alone?
Since leaving my home country of Uganda and moving to Dubai for work, I’ve felt lonely almost constantly. Back home in my neighborhood, people greeted each other on the street. We knew each other. We supported each other. I had many friends and family who were of my faith.
But it’s not the same here. I live in a very different culture, in a big city and surrounded by people who work busy jobs. And even though I do attend my ward and have tried to get to know other young adults and ward members, our busy work schedules make it almost impossible to see each other for more than just the couple of hours we spend at church each week.
Dubai is big and glamorous, and I’m grateful to be here. But it can be so overwhelming, especially when you’re feeling lonely. People have so much here and seem to have their lives figured out. However, as I’m living among all this fancy stuff and these beautiful buildings, I sometimes wonder:
What am I doing with my life? Is this even the right place for me?
Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles explained that “a sense of belonging is important to our physical, mental, and spiritual well-being.”1 I hadn’t realized just how essential that sense of belonging was until I didn’t feel it anymore—not at church and not anywhere, really.
How was I going to find it now, far from everyone I loved?
Over time, I started to recognize “the centrality of Jesus Christ to belonging.”2
As much as I still missed my friends and family, I began to see that I hadn’t been separated from everyone in my life when I’d moved—I still had a Savior and a loving Heavenly Father who always wanted to stay connected to me.
So I started doing what I could to connect with Them better every day. I began listening to Come, Follow Me study podcasts when I went running. I put in my headphones at work and listened to the scriptures while I was completing tasks.
Most importantly, I learned what an amazing gift it is to be able to pray directly to Heavenly Father. I speak to Him more frequently and more thoughtfully than I ever have before. When I feel lonely, I pray and feel His comfort. When I’m typing up an email and trying to stay patient with my coworkers, I pray and ask Him for help.
I love what President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) said about prayer: “To those … who are struggling with challenges and difficulties large and small, prayer is the provider of spiritual strength; it is the passport to peace. Prayer is the means by which we approach our Father in Heaven, who loves us. Speak to Him in prayer and then listen for the answer. Miracles are wrought through prayer.”3
By making time for Them in my life, especially through sincere prayer, I began to see that although I wasn’t surrounded by my people and my own culture, I could still be surrounded by the Spirit and feel God’s love.
Things are still hard, but I have hope for the future. And I’ve come to believe what Brother Milton Camargo, First Counselor in the Sunday School General Presidency, taught: “The Lord Jesus Christ lives today. He can be an active, daily presence in our lives. He is the solution to our problems, but we must lift our eyes and raise our sights to see Him.”4
I’m still lonely at times, but I know that I will always, always be able to pray to my Heavenly Father and access the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
Standing or kneeling, alone or in a group, I can pray.
I can cry to Heavenly Father.
I can give thanks.
I can ask for guidance and protection.
And through my covenant connection, I know that I, a daughter of a loving Heavenly Father, will always belong to Him. Through His guidance, I can feel confident that I am in the right place, doing what He would have me do.

Anna liked going to Sunbeam class. She liked her teachers, Brother and Sister Lee. She liked the lessons about Jesus. She liked knowing the words to the songs.
But now she wouldn’t be in the Sunbeam class anymore. Today she would be in a new Primary class. She would have new teachers. She would sit in a new row in singing time. She would have a new classroom.
Anna was nervous. She wanted to sit with Sister Lee. She tried not to cry as she walked into the Primary room.
One of her new teachers smiled at her. “Hi, I’m Sister Ball. What’s your name?”
“I’m Anna,” Anna said.
Sister Ball patted the chair next to her. “Would you like to sit by me? This is my first time in Primary.”
Anna sat down by Sister Ball. “I can help you. I know all the songs!”
“Thank you,” said Sister Ball. “That would be a big help.”
Soon her friend Beth came in. Last year she was in the Sunbeam class with Anna. Beth sat by Anna.
“This is Beth,” Anna told Sister Ball.
Anna smiled. She liked her new Primary class after all!

During summer break, I took a robotics engineering class at the high school near my home. I was one of the youngest ones in the class. On the first day our teachers put us into groups. In these groups we learned how to code robots. Coding allowed us to invent ways for robots to complete mazes. It was very hard to learn, and it took our group several days to do. Some days, people didn’t come to class, so it was just me and one other person working on our project.
On the last day, the teachers decided to do a fun game with the entire class. They gave each group 20 dried noodles and 10 marshmallows. They told us to make the tallest tower. My group only had two people that day, so a member from another group came over to help us.
Illustration by Macky Pamintuan
We worked on the tower for a long time and tried our best. The tower we made turned out a little too wide and not very tall. We felt like we could have done better. My teammates wanted to quit, but I said, “Let’s not give up.” We took all the noodle pieces from the side and placed them at the top. Little by little our tower grew!
Because we didn’t give up, we tied another group for first place. I learned that no matter how hard things get, we should never give up!

After his mission, Ezra Taft returned to Whitney, purchased a farm with his brother Orval, and served on the Franklin Stake MIA board. By the time Flora returned from her mission to Hawaii, Ezra Taft had graduated from Brigham Young University and had received a scholarship to study agriculture at Iowa State College. On 10 September 1926, Flora Amussen and Ezra Taft Benson were married in the Salt Lake Temple and set off for Ames, Iowa, in a used Model-T pickup truck. There they lived on a meager income, enhancing their meals with vegetables gleaned from the college experimental garden.
Ezra Taft returned to Whitney with a master’s degree and an eagerness to help other farmers improve their crops. He was so helpful, in fact, that his neighbors drafted him as county agricultural extension agent.

A good friend of mine recently died in a tragic car accident. I have found comfort through coming unto Christ. I had to gain a testimony of Christ’s love for each one of us; I had to understand who we are as children of God; and most importantly I had to understand God’s plan and will for His children. As I turned to Him through scriptures, church, and Church materials, I was able to gain that testimony and feel peace and comfort. Especially helpful was the youth lesson titled “How can I find comfort when someone I care about dies?” All of the scriptures, articles, and videos referenced in this lesson are amazing and have changed my life.
Madilin N., age 18, Iowa, USA

The group pushed on to another of George Washington’s famous camps on the banks of the Delaware River. Instead of tramping through deep snow with cold feet like the Revolutionary soldiers, this modern group welcomed the cool water of the river. Each teen was armed with an inflated tube, and they settled down to float the river.
“Tubing was fun,” said Jan Taylor of the Doylestown Pennsylvania Ward, “because you didn’t have to do anything in particular and you could talk to people. Everyone was together, and we were going so slow there was nothing else to do besides talk.”
The floaters were a little deceived about the speed of the river. They thought that it would be an easy matter to just paddle over to the bank. But when the floaters reached the point where they were supposed to get out, some people found they were caught in the current and being swept down river. They were in no real danger, but they were passing by the easiest places to get up the bank.
At this point, Tim Bothell, 19, a chaperon from the Smerna Branch of the Wilmington Delaware Stake, went to the rescue. He swam out into the current and caught errant floaters who were not strong enough to get themselves out of the river. Again and again he reached out and helped someone get into the shallow water where they could wade out.
Another group of boys brought up the rear in the river to keep an eye out for trouble. They made sure that everyone had made it down safely. Both Tim and the rear guard did these things without being asked. They were watching out for each other. They were helping each other have a good time. For these three days, strangers were closing the distance and becoming friends.