Gospel Story Finder

Do you know what it means to minister? Think about this question while I tell you about a girl named Chy Johnson.
When Chy started high school last year, she became the victim of cruel and thoughtless bullying. She was mistreated, shoved, and taunted as she walked to class—some students even threw garbage at her. You have probably seen people mistreated like this in your school too.
For too many people, the teenage years are a time of loneliness and fear. It doesn’t have to be this way. Fortunately for Chy, there were young men at her school who understood what it means to minister.
Chy’s mother had asked teachers at the school to help stop the bullying, but it continued. She then contacted Carson Jones, an Aaronic Priesthood holder and the starting quarterback of the football team. She asked him to help her find out who was doing the bullying.
Carson agreed to help, but in his heart he felt that he could do much more than just identify the bullies. The Spirit whispered to him that he needed to help Chy feel loved.
Carson asked some of his teammates to join him in ministering to Chy. They invited her to sit with them during lunch. They walked her to class to make sure she was safe. Not surprisingly, with football players as her close friends, no one bullied Chy anymore.
This was an exciting season for the football team. But even with the thrill of an undefeated season, these young men did not forget about Chy. They invited her to join the team on the field after games. Chy felt loved and appreciated. She felt safe. She was happy.
The football team went on to win the state title. But something more important than a football championship happened at their school. The example of these young men has motivated other students to be more accepting, more friendly. They now treat each other with more kindness and respect.
National news media found out what these young men had done and shared their story across the country. What began as an effort to minister to one is inspiring thousands of others to do the same.
Chy’s mother calls these young men “angels in disguise.” Carson and his friends are quick to say that Chy has blessed their lives much more than they blessed hers. That’s what happens when you lose yourself in serving others—you find yourself.2 You change and grow in ways that would not be possible otherwise. These young men have experienced the joy of ministering and continue to seek opportunities to bless others. They are anxious to extend their ministering in the coming months when they serve as full-time missionaries.3

“About two years ago I was in the same situation as the young man. My job and other interests had taken me away from the Church. Then one afternoon three young women who were members stopped by the ski shop where I worked and brought me a batch of cookies. They said they missed me and cared about me.

“It wasn’t until a month or so later I took one of them to a stake dance. (Or did she take me?) I really had a good time. A little while later, I went to church. At first I had a hard time explaining where I had been, but the warmth of the ward was overwhelming.

“They got me teaching a Sunday School class for the 10-year-olds, and now they’ve got me serving a mission for the Lord! My life has changed tremendously. I love my mission, and I love the Lord. I know there are thousands of missionaries like myself with this type of story. Hopefully, through our love and prayers, your friend will soon be one, too.”
Elder Gary ChristensenAtlanta Georgia Mission

When I received my call to serve in the France Toulouse Mission, I was excited to serve in a foreign country and learn a new language. Despite not having studied French before, I was confident I would be able to learn to speak the language easily.
My stake president blessed me with the gift of tongues when he set me apart as a missionary. This blessing added to my confidence that I would be able to learn French quickly.
When I arrived at the missionary training center in Provo, Utah, I was eager to begin, but my time at the MTC was humbling. I was overwhelmed and struggled every day. When I left the MTC, I felt I had made few advances with French. I wondered when the gift of tongues would come.
My first assignment in the mission field was in a small town in southern France. One afternoon, just days after I had arrived, my companion and I were street contacting. I didn’t say much when we spoke with people—I could hardly understand them, and they could hardly understand me.
We approached a woman, and my companion began telling her about the Church. The woman listened for a few minutes and then suddenly turned to me and said, “What do you have to say?”
I anxiously and desperately tried to remember something I had learned. In a trembling voice, I bore a simple testimony about Heavenly Father and the Book of Mormon. As I did so, the Spirit bore witness to me that what I had said was true. I don’t know if the woman felt anything, but she smiled, turned back to my companion, and asked her to continue with her message.
This experience taught me an important lesson. I learned that even though I couldn’t speak French well, the Spirit could speak through me. I learned that perhaps the blessing I had received from my stake president was actually a blessing to be able to speak the language of the Spirit.
Years later, this experience still influences me. I am not required to preach the gospel in French anymore, but I need the help of the Spirit when I am asked to teach a lesson or give a talk in church. When I feel that I am struggling to express myself, I find comfort in remembering that the Spirit is able to speak to the hearts of all of God’s children.

My mother also taught us to finish what we started. I took piano lessons as a child and gave my first public performance at a school recital when I was eight years old. I fell down as I was walking up the steps to the stage. I went ahead and performed my number, even though I was crying all the way through it. I had learned that you don’t give up, even when you’re discouraged. You see the job through.

Cole Negebauer, a priest in the Shiloh Ward, knows all about being nervous to perform such a sacred ordinance. When he was asked to baptize his younger sister, Corie, he had been a member for only three years. His own baptism and the baptism of his parents and younger brother were still fresh in his mind, and he remembered how important it was to him.

So when it came time to baptize his sister, he was more than a little nervous about doing it right. The baptismal prayer isn’t a long prayer, but like the sacrament prayer, it must be said word for word. “I prayed about it a lot. I prayed that I’d not be nervous and that I’d be able to remember the words.”

It helped. But like Dan, Cole was in for a surprise when his family arrived at the church the day of the baptism. “It was packed,” he says. “We had to move into the chapel.”

When the important moment came, though, as Cole recited the words “having been commissioned of Jesus Christ,” he learned that when you’re acting worthily in the name of the Lord, you’re not alone. “I felt calm. I could feel the Holy Ghost there with me. It felt right. I knew I was doing something Heavenly Father wanted me to do.”

To Cole, blessing the sacrament and baptizing are important, but there’s more to holding the priesthood than that. Holding the priesthood means living right and being an example so he can perform those ordinances worthily.

“Some of my friends at school don’t understand why I don’t do some of the things they do, like watching R-rated movies or drinking and stuff like that. It’s hard to explain the priesthood. But they know I won’t do those things. Some think it’s cool. Some think it’s weird. But everybody knows.”

Honoring the priesthood has helped Cole prepare for his mission. Through Cole’s example and friendship, one friend and his two brothers were baptized. Another friend is playing basketball every week with some of the young men in the ward.

“I’m glad I have the priesthood and can use it more than just every Sunday,” he says. “It has strengthened my testimony. It’s given me confidence to do what’s right.”

When my family moved to Japan, it was scary moving to a new place and making new friends. On my first day of kindergarten we were doing an art project. We had to trace our hands on paper. I noticed that a boy at my table was having a hard time tracing his hand. I wanted to help him, but I was nervous. Then I remembered that in family scripture study we had been talking about how Jesus loved and served others. I helped the boy trace his hand. It made him happy, and I felt happy too. Heavenly Father blessed me to not be nervous and helped me make a new friend too!

“Father, how old do you have to be to receive a patriarchal blessing?” asked an Aaronic Priesthood youth one morning after Sunday School. My question had been prompted by the report of two missionaries. My father told me he knew of no age requirement, but one should be old enough to understand what the blessing would mean, and, of course, one must be worthy.
I asked him if he thought I was worthy. He informed me that he did think so, but he was not the one to say because that would be the responsibility of the bishop. “Why don’t you ask the bishop if you might receive a recommend for a patriarchal blessing?” he suggested.
This I did. After a careful but brief interview in one corner of the chapel—because fifty or sixty years ago many chapels didn’t have bishops’ offices—the bishop gave me a signed recommend.
When I showed it to my father, he pointed to a tall, white-haired man and said, “Brother Dalley, our stake patriarch, is visiting here today. Why don’t you present the recommend to him and ask when you might receive a blessing?”
The patriarch put his hand on my shoulder and said, “If you’ll come with me, we’ll walk up the road to the home of my son-in-law, Brother Winward, and I’ll give you the blessing right today.”
Up the road, arm-in-arm with this godly man, I went to the farm home. In the parlor, a room used for special occasions, with Brother Winward as scribe, this noble patriarch placed his hands upon my head and gave clear answer to a boy’s prayer. He promised that if I were faithful, I would go on a mission “to the nations of the earth, crying repentance to a wicked world.”
Filled with happiness and assurance that this and other promises in the blessing would be fulfilled, it seemed that I was walking on air during the mile walk to our farm home, where I broke the glad news to the family.

Sixteen-year-old Mattie Hughes was thrilled when she heard about what the prophet had said. Becoming a doctor was her dream. And now President Brigham Young was actually encouraging women to become doctors!
Mattie knew that some medical schools were finally letting women in. Of course, she would have to get a college degree before she could go to medical school. And she would have to save a lot of money. It would take a lot of time and a lot of hard work. She knew that.
But Mattie thought of her little sister, Annie, who had died on the wagon trip to Utah. There had been no doctor to help her when she got sick. Then Mattie’s father had died. Here in Salt Lake City, Mattie knew lots of people who were sick or hurt. If Mattie became a doctor, she could help them.
Mattie decided to have faith. The prophet had said women should train to be doctors, and she wanted to be one of them! God would help her find a way to go to medical school.
Mattie worked hard to save money. She got a job as a typesetter for a newspaper. She had to carefully arrange every letter of every word in the right order so the newspaper could be printed. After work, Mattie went to classes at the university to get ready for medical school.
Between home, work, and school, Mattie walked six miles (10 km) every day! She wore heavy men’s boots because her regular shoes weren’t tough enough to trudge through the mud. She wished she could ride in the mule-drawn streetcar instead of walking, but she was saving every penny for school.
Mattie worried that she wouldn’t be able to save enough money. She knew her mother and stepfather would try to help her, but they had other children to take care of. What else could she do?
Mattie decided to hold a fundraiser and ask friends and ward members to share whatever money they could spare. They were happy to help. Mattie was only the third woman to try to follow President Young’s call to become a doctor, and they wanted her to succeed.
After the fundraisers, Mattie had enough to go to medical school! She traveled across the country to a university and studied hard.
Two years later, Mattie held her head high and marched onto the graduation platform to receive her diploma. She was finally a doctor! She had never felt so excited.
Mattie looked into the cheering crowd of strangers. None of her family or friends from home could be there, but she knew they were proud of her. Soon she would return home to care for them and teach them what she had learned.
After going back to Utah, Mattie worked at the Relief Society’s hospital in Salt Lake City. She loved her job as a doctor. She helped treat diseases, heal injuries, and even teach classes on how to deliver babies.
Becoming a doctor had been hard work. But Heavenly Father had helped her. Now Mattie would spend the rest of her life helping others.

Following up on a member referral, my missionary companion and I visited the home of a young mother. We knocked at her front door a number of times before she opened it and welcomed us inside. We explained who we were and told her that a neighbor had referred us to her. She accepted our introduction and settled down in front of us, ready to hear the first missionary discussion.
The woman’s ten-year-old daughter, who was sitting in the room with us, didn’t make the slightest effort to turn and look at us. Instead, she turned up the volume of the television set. Her mother seemed to be following the discussion very intently and did not seem to notice the noise. So my companion continued presenting the discussion.
A few minutes later, the girl again increased the volume. The sound was now so loud that we couldn’t hear the mother clearly. Still, she did nothing to remedy the situation, but continued showing the same interest in our message. I began to feel quite annoyed by the girl’s behavior and her mother’s lack of action. I felt even more irritated when I realized that the daughter wasn’t even watching the television—she was drawing on some paper! I tried to appear calm on the outside, all the while thinking, “What a brat! And why doesn’t her mother say something to her!”
My thoughts were far from the discussion when the girl left the room, leaving the television set turned on. How infuriating!
But when she came back a little later, I saw her face for the first time and realized that she had Down’s syndrome, a condition causing mental retardation. I looked at the young mother, who was fully concentrating on my companion’s message. “What a considerate mother!” I thought. “Perhaps she doesn’t want to say anything to her daughter because of her condition. Or perhaps she doesn’t want to interrupt us.”
Humbled, I presented the second part of the missionary discussion. Then we offered a prayer, set our next appointment date, and visited informally with the woman for a while. As we talked, we were amazed to learn that she was deaf and that she had understood our presentation by reading our lips.
As we left her home, I felt very sorry that I had misjudged both mother and daughter. Neither had been aware of how the television had distracted us.
Even though I had not spoken my feelings, I had not controlled by thoughts. My judgment had been based on little or no understanding of the situation. Since that experience, I have always worked to control my thoughts and not be so quick to judge others.

I had been on my mission in my home country of Peru for several months when I met Santiago. He attended a Sunday School class for new members, but he had not been baptized. Nor had he taken the missionary discussions. I learned that he had a speech impediment that made him feel insecure because he had difficulty communicating.
For most of his life, Santiago had been able to speak clearly and had been blessed with a beautiful singing voice. But then he suffered a stroke. After a long time in a rehabilitation center, he had learned to walk again, but he still had trouble speaking.
We were thrilled when Santiago decided to meet with us. During our first visit, he tried to talk, and we tried to understand. He especially enjoyed reading aloud from the Book of Mormon. We loved and admired him.
One day while we were discussing gospel ordinances, Santiago said he was ready for baptism and confirmation. After we had finished the discussion, he stood up, eyes shining, and with great difficulty asked, “Elders, after I’m baptized, will I be able to talk normally again?”
I was taken aback for a moment and at first didn’t know how to answer. But responding to the influence of the Spirit, I said confidently, “Yes, if you have enough faith, the Lord will grant your desire.”
On the day of his baptism, I remembered Santiago’s question when he was asked to bear his testimony. Realizing that some of the Lord’s promises aren’t fulfilled immediately, I wondered if Santiago would feel disappointed if his ability to speak didn’t immediately improve. In the days that followed, he still struggled to talk, but he didn’t seem to be concerned.
I was soon transferred and didn’t see Santiago again until the end of my mission, when I went to say good-bye before returning home. My companion and I didn’t find him home and started to leave, when suddenly we heard a strong voice calling to us. It was Santiago!
We entered his house, and he talked about how happy he had been as a member of the Church. After a few minutes I realized that he was speaking almost perfectly. Surprised, I said, “Santiago, you talk fine now!”
He said he knew the Lord would grant his desire. So he showed faith and did his part, reading aloud from the Book of Mormon and doing exercises his doctor had recommended. “The Lord has seen my efforts and has given my voice back to me,” he said. “And it won’t be long before He blesses me with the ability to sing again.”
I could not hold back my tears. That day Santiago taught me a great lesson. The promises of the Lord aren’t always fulfilled quickly, but they are fulfilled nonetheless.

One of my good and bright friends left the Church for a time. He recently wrote to me of his return: “Initially, I wanted the Book of Mormon to be proven to me historically, geographically, linguistically, and culturally. But when I changed my focus to what it teaches about the gospel of Jesus Christ and His saving mission, I began to gain a testimony of its truthfulness. One day while reading the Book of Mormon in my room, I paused, knelt down, and gave a heartfelt prayer and felt resoundingly that Heavenly Father whispered to my spirit that the Church and the Book of Mormon were definitely true. My three-and-a-half-year period of reinvestigating the Church led me back wholeheartedly and convincingly to its truthfulness.”

If one will take the time to humbly read and ponder the Book of Mormon, as did my friend, and give ear to the sweet fruits of the Spirit, then he or she will eventually receive the desired witness.

As I pray for the Lord to open my eyes to see things I might not normally see, I often ask myself two questions and pay attention to the impressions that come: “What am I doing that I should stop doing?” and “What am I not doing that I should start doing?”
Months ago, during the sacrament, I asked myself these questions and was surprised by the impression that came. “Stop looking at your phone when you are waiting in lines.” Looking at my phone in lines had become almost automatic; I found it a good time to multitask, catch up on email, look at headlines, or scroll through a social media feed.
The next morning, I found myself waiting in a long line at the store. I pulled out my phone and then remembered the impression I had received. I put my phone away and looked around. I saw an elderly gentleman in line ahead of me. His cart was empty except for a few cans of cat food. I felt a little awkward but said something really clever like, “I can see you have a cat.” He said that a storm was coming, and he did not want to be caught without cat food. We visited briefly, and then he turned to me and said, “You know, I haven’t told anyone this, but today is my birthday.” My heart melted. I wished him a happy birthday and offered a silent prayer of thanks that I had not been on my phone and missed an opportunity to truly see and connect with another person who needed it.

I know that from my own experience. I remember when I was a boy of 15 and we had been expelled from Mexico in the revolution. My folks went to Los Angeles from El Paso, Texas. I got a job there among a bunch of Mormon-haters, and I didn’t tell them that I was a Mormon. Sometime after that, President Joseph F. Smith came to Los Angeles and had dinner with my parents—a very humble dinner; I can remember that it was very scant. He put his hand on my head and said, “My boy, don’t ever be ashamed that you are a Mormon.”
You know, I have worried all my days that I didn’t have the courage to stand up to those ribald men.

When we were being evacuated, I found out that on Sunday afternoon after our sacrament meeting, a group of protesters had been preparing to attack our apartment. One of our neighbors shouted, “They aren’t French!” but they would not leave. Finally, another neighbor cried, “They’re missionaries!” and the rioters dispersed. I again remembered the words, “My Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you,” and I realized that I was living the promise from my stake president’s blessing. I had seen prophecy fulfilled.

In May, Sister Nelson and I traveled with Elder Gerrit W. and Sister Susan Gong to the South Pacific. While in Auckland, New Zealand, we had the honor of meeting with imams from two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand, where just two months earlier, innocent worshippers had been gunned down in an act of horrible violence.
We extended our sympathy to these brothers of another faith and reaffirmed our mutual commitment to religious freedom.
We also offered volunteer labor and modest financial assistance to rebuild their mosques. Our meeting with these Muslim leaders was filled with tender expressions of brotherhood.

In my first year of high school, I made a commitment to read the New Testament from beginning to end. After school and on weekends, I retreated to the upper story of our house and read the Savior’s words and of His miracles and life.
Though my young mind often did not understand the language of the Bible, I came to know Jesus Christ. I learned that He is the Son of God and that He was sent to atone for our sins. I learned that He walked with, spoke to, and blessed ordinary, weak people—people like me.
I was sometimes confused while reading complex passages in Paul’s epistles and John’s writings in the book of Revelation, but I could always feel the truth of their teachings. I found that reading the scriptures helped me through hard days at school and gave me guidance in making important decisions.

From Idaho comes a story of Jonathan, who went to school in the cold weather wearing his warm hat. When he got to school, he noticed another boy’s ears were frostbitten because he had had to wait so long in the cold for the school bus to pick him up. On his own, Jonathan went to the telephone, called his mother, and asked if it would be all right to give the younger boy his hat because he needed it more. As we bear on another’s burdens, as Jonathan did, we are fulfilling the covenant we made at baptism.

I remember my last year as a student at BYU. I roomed with three fine young men. We were all returned missionaries—eager, confident, waiting to see what the test of life would bring for us. We were filled with all of those good things that young returned missionaries aspire to. Many years later it is interesting to see where those roommates are and what has happened to them. The wife of one roommate was killed in an automobile accident; he was left with nine children. Another roommate—by a strange, accidental slip of the knife in surgery in a routine operation—lingered between life and death for months, bordering on being permanently incapacitated and crippled. The third roommate, probably the most talented and the one with the greatest potential, somehow began to move away from the faith of his fathers, became disaffected with the Church, left the Church, and separated himself from his wife and his children. He lives a life of regret, I believe. So we cannot anticipate always what the race will bring us.

I think of Elder Neal A. Maxwell and some of the challenges he faced during his teenage years. His parents were very poor. It was embarrassing to him that early on, they did not have indoor bathroom facilities like so many of his friends. His 4-H project was raising pigs, and that didn’t gain him a lot of popularity at high school either. He suffered from severe acne that challenged his confidence and self-esteem. He wondered if he would ever be socially acceptable to others.
He was intensely interested in athletics—particularly basketball—and was good enough to be able to play on the team as a freshman. But in later years, he was cut from the team and the sport he loved. Consequently, as he described it, “I turned to the world of words.” That became an immense blessing for him in his political, university, and educational executive assignments, and to all of us he now serves as one of the Lord’s prophets, seers, and revelators.

A number of families in the Richards Bay Ward, Durban South Africa Stake, are enjoying the fruits—or vegetables—of a year-old garden-plot program that began with the help of the full-time missionaries and the Church Welfare Department.
Many of the Church members in the townships surrounding the Richards Bay meetinghouse struggle financially because of high unemployment rates or low wages.
Elder Jack Davidson, a senior missionary serving in the area in 2006, saw a great opportunity in an unused portion of the Church property surrounding the Esikhawini meetinghouse and the excellent gardening skills of a few of the members. Vegetables could be grown year-round, and surplus produce could be readily sold to members of the community.
The Church had purchased property on which three small temporary Church buildings (a chapel and two sets of small classrooms) were built to serve the members’ needs at the time. These buildings, lawns, flowers, and parking occupied only about one-third of the property. The rest, about 45 meters wide by 80 meters long, was in tall, rough grass and weeds. This property was to be used for more permanent buildings as warranted in the future. A security fence surrounds the property.
It took almost six months for Elder Davidson to accumulate the resources to buy the tools, irrigation supplies, and other equipment and to build a secure building to house tools and supplies. The funds came from LDS Humanitarian Services and generous donations from family and friends.
The secure storage building was essential not only for security but for effective use of the site by members. Only a few members in Esikhawini have cars. If they were to try to garden without this building, they would have to carry heavy tools to and from their homes. Anything left on the site could be stolen. Also, some of the new gardeners would not be able to afford tools. With the building in place, members can check the hand and power tools in and out. Part of the overall ward gardening plan is for members and missionaries to take items from this set of tools and equipment to other townships in the ward to help members set up gardens. All the tools and power equipment are portable in a pickup truck.
Beginning in March 2006, more than a dozen full-time missionaries in the Richards Bay Zone of the South Africa Durban Mission set to work to help create the family garden plots and secure building and composting facilities.
Richards Bay Ward bishop Ted Baldwin laid the blocks for the secure building, and others helped as needed with this and the cement work.
Elder Davidson and the rest of the elders focused primarily on clearing the land so the plots could be laid out, the cultivating could get underway in earnest, the irrigation system could be installed, and the gravel could be cleaned out. Youth often turned out to help and to learn to use the equipment. The plots were to be 6 meters by 10 meters with one-meter paths all around.
As each plot was finished and ready for planting, families from the Esikhawini township were ready to take over and plant winter vegetables. Some of the families had already raised seedlings at home in anticipation of the gardens.
The number of individual plots had finally reached the set goal of 30 in early June. Throughout the process, the community took notice of the activities. On most days a few people would stop and ask the members or missionaries questions. Several of these conversations led to missionary lessons.