Gospel Story Finder

When I was a boy living here in Salt Lake City, most homes were heated with coal stoves. Black smoke belched forth from almost every chimney. As winter came to a close, black soot and grime were everywhere, both inside and outside of the house. There was a ritual through which we passed each year, not a very pleasant one, as we viewed it. It involved every member of the family. It was known as spring-cleaning. When the weather warmed after the long winter, a week or so was designated as cleanup time. It was usually when there was a holiday and included two Saturdays.
My mother ran the show. All of the curtains were taken down and laundered. Then they were carefully ironed. The windows were washed inside and out, and oh, what a job that was in that big two-story house. Wallpaper was on all of the walls, and Father would bring home numerous cans of wallpaper cleaner. It was like bread dough, but it was a pretty pink in color when the container was opened. It had an interesting smell, a pleasant, refreshing kind of smell. We all pitched in. We would knead some of the cleaning dough in our hands, climb a ladder, and begin on the high ceiling and then work down the walls. The dough was soon black from the dirt it lifted from the paper. It was a terrible task, very tiring, but the results were like magic. We would stand back and compare the dirty surface with the clean surface. It was amazing to us how much better the clean walls looked.
All of the carpets were taken up and dragged out to the backyard, where they were hung over the clothesline, one by one. Each of us boys would have what we called a carpet beater, a device made of light steel rods with a wooden handle. As we beat the carpet, the dust would fly, and we would have to keep going until there was no dust left. We detested that work. But when all of it was done and everything was back in place, the result was wonderful. The house was clean, our spirits renewed. The whole world looked better.

I remember the summer before entering college having the chance to go to Monument Valley to work on the first high school built there for the Navajo people. As I was about to leave home, my father asked me if I was going to take my Book of Mormon. I hadn’t thought to, but I paid heed to his question. I remember lying in my bunk late at night at the construction site and feeling the spirit and power of the Book of Mormon.

I remember as a young missionary in the Great Lakes Mission coming to that great knowledge and absolute testimony that the Book of Mormon was another witness of another nation that Jesus is the Christ and that this Church is true. From those experiences there burns in my heart today that divine witness of the message of the Book of Mormon, of Christ as our Savior and Redeemer, and of the Restoration of His Church in these latter days.

A year and 10 months after my baptism, I received my first subscription to the Liahona (English). I read almost all its contents and realized the joy it brings. The magazine lifts me and gives me encouragement and ideas about how to deal with my problems. It increases my testimony of the truthfulness of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. And it draws me near to Heavenly Father and His Son.
I am the only member of the Church in my family. Now I’m sharing the Liahona with my relatives and with Church members who don’t yet have a subscription. I just can’t keep the truthfulness and joy of the gospel inside.
Filipina Munsayal, Baguio Pacdal Ward, Baguio Philippines Stake

One autumn I was assigned to a stake conference in a rural area of the Western United States. I arrived on Saturday evening and remained with the stake president and his family overnight. In the morning we started our journey of five or six miles to the meetinghouse, and on our way we passed several farms. It was apparent that the Sabbath day was being observed by the people.
We saw beautiful fields of ripened wheat with machinery standing in the fields just as it had been left the evening before. We saw haystacks partly built, with more hay resting in the fields waiting to be brought in. Some of the grain was harvested and some was yet in the field. The very land seemed to be at rest.
We entered the village, and there too we found a scene of peace and serenity. There was no sound of hammer, machinery, or work of any kind. Instead, we saw people gathering to the chapel from all directions in the valley.
I remarked to the stake president about this unusual sight and inquired whether the home teachers had canvassed the stake and warned the people that a visitor was coming from Salt Lake. “No,” he said, “we’re very pleased with the way our people observe the Sabbath day to keep it holy. Nearly every family in the stake is represented at our meetings every Sunday.” The records upheld his word.
It was a beautiful day—quiet, a soft breeze blowing, warm and pleasant. The hills in the distance were turning to their autumn colors. There were beautiful farms and fields, lovely homes, and a sweet spirit of contentment. The meetings and councils of that day were remarkably peaceful, productive, and satisfying.

Carlitos wiped the tears from his eyes. His mamá had been sick for many months. At last Papá had convinced her to go to the city, many kilometers from their small village in Chile, and see a doctor. After many tests, the doctor said that Carlitos’s mamá had cancer.
Mamá refused to feel sorry for herself. “I still have much to do,” she said.
One day, two young norteamericanos (North Americans) appeared at the door of their small home. “We are from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” one said in halting Spanish.
Mamá listened intently and occasionally asked questions. She accepted the young men’s message immediately. “It is the truth,” she said.
Despite the disease that caused her much pain, Mamá was determined to be baptized and confirmed.
On Saturday morning the family traveled to the small meetinghouse where Elder Metzer baptized her. She shivered as she stepped from the baptismal font.
“Mamá, you are cold,” Carlitos said and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You must go home and get warm.”
Mamá shook her head. “It is not enough. I will stay until I am confirmed. How can I be cold when the gospel warms me?” She was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Mamá was not content with just that. She was determined that Papá and Carlitos learn of the restored gospel as she had. “If you will pray, you will know the truth of which the missionaries speak,” she told them.
The elders taught them the gospel of Jesus Christ. Papá would have to give up his cigarettes. Carlitos listened to the elders’ teachings and felt peace wrap around his heart. He began to understand the warmth that Mamá had described.
Within a month Papá had stopped smoking. Shortly afterward both Papá and Carlitos were baptized and confirmed. A few weeks later Papá received the Aaronic Priesthood. Carlitos would have to wait three more years before he could receive the priesthood.
Mamá was very weak, but she always managed to go to church and visit those in the village who were sick.
“We are members of God’s Church, but it is not enough,” Mamá told Papá and Carlitos one night.
“What must we do now?” Carlitos asked. He loved learning about the gospel and wanted to live it in every way.
“We must be sealed in the temple,” Mamá said.
The temple in Santiago was the closest one to their home. But they did not have enough money to travel there. Any extra money Papá earned went to buy medicine for Mamá.
So Mamá started a temple jar. She placed it by the door. The coins she collected grew until the family had enough money to make the trip. In the temple their family was sealed for time and all eternity.
Mamá glowed with happiness. “It is enough,” she said.

One day, my Young Women leaders taught us about special moments when you really feel the Spirit and feel close to God. They called them “celestial moments,” a simple phrase that was easy to remember. For me, I knew exactly what a “celestial moment” was; I’d felt it before, such as when you feel a tiny glimmer or taste of what life in the celestial kingdom might be like. And I’ve had plenty of these moments!
After our leaders introduced the idea, we went outside. The sun was gleaming through the trees. We shut our eyes. I felt the sun on my face as a warm breeze blew. Birds sang and trees swished in the wind as we enjoyed God’s creations. That was a celestial moment.

In 2018, Latter-day Saint Robert Opiyo joined the only ice hockey club in East-Central Africa, the Kenya Ice Lions. At the time, there were fewer than 30 ice hockey players in all of Kenya, and 17 of them (15 men and 2 women) were members of the Ice Lions team.
Today, there are over 40 adult players and 40 youth players who practice at least twice a week. Robert used the skills he learned on his mission in Melbourne, Australia, as one of the team’s executive members.
Brother Opiyo dreams of the Olympics someday but is also content to be part of this pioneering endeavor. “Slowly more people hear about our desire and want to help us get there,” he said. “I’m grateful to have been a part that set the foundation for future generations.”

It has been said that children are our hope for the future. The wonderful youngsters of the Navu 1st Ward in Samoa are already making the future brighter.
On the cool, foggy morning of March 25, they planted 300 small trees at Malololelei Recreational Reserve with the help of their Church leaders and parents.
The children’s service project was in conjunction with the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environment’s Three Million Tree Planting Campaign, an initiative to protect the biodiversity of Samoa.
The children were happy to serve in a hands-on way. They experienced what it feels like to contribute something good to their community and to make a difference.
Ten-year-old Charity said with a smile, “I really loved the tree-planting activity. I learned that trees provide us with air to breathe every day and for birds to live in. By planting trees, we are helping the environment and the different animals and birds in the forest. I felt happy and I loved this activity.”
“I had so much fun,” eight years-old Jonnie said. “I was happy to be with my friends and to help the world by planting the trees. It made me happy to know that this is what our Heavenly Father wants us to do, and it will make Him happy. I love this activity.”
Falefatu, age nine years, agreed, adding, “When I was told what to do, I was really happy and excited to learn how to plant trees and now I know that trees protect the world. I learned that they give us air, medicine and wood to build our houses. I wish to have more activities like this because trees are really important for everyone.”
The adult Church leaders who accompanied the children were pleased to see them enjoying the opportunity to serve.
“The tree-planting activity was such an amazing experience,” noted Eric U.J Tuia. “From the beginning, we could see the excitement in the eyes of the children. It was great to see them participate in doing community service.”
He continued, “I really felt a strong presence of the Spirit of Christ with us during this project. The children radiated joy and happiness as they planted their first tree and quickly ran to get more trees to plant. Even as it started to rain later that day, their enthusiasm for trying to plant as many trees as they could seemed unaffected. What a sight to see that day, and what a fantastic experience it was. The children will never forget it.”
Eseese Moke Ah Sam added, “It was a privilege to witness the excitement of our children planting the trees. I felt very blessed and had a sense of overwhelming joy that these children learned to invest themselves in caring for the environment. They now understand that it is God’s will that they nurture and care for the planet that He blessed us with.”
The children and the small trees will grow up together, and in their own way, will make their world a better place to live. The trees will beautify and give more oxygen to the world and the children learned that they, too, can serve to enrich and add life to their communities.

When I was little, I lived in Zwickau, Germany. My grandmother had a friend with white, flowing hair. Her name was Sister Ewig, and she invited my grandmother to church. When our family went there, we saw many children. All of us were very impressed by the music, especially the singing. One song, “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam,” really impressed me.1 I felt very close to Jesus when I sang it. I knew that He wanted me to be a sunbeam for Him. I still love that song—and the testimony that it gave me of the Savior.

As time passed, I went into surgery for fusions of the broken vertebrae. The incisions finally healed, and I began therapy each day to see how much of a return of the nerve function we could hope to accomplish. At first there was no response, and I was shocked to see how shrunken my arms had become. All the muscles I had built up through heavy farm work were gone, and we were starting all over again.
Many discouraging, fruitless sessions followed. Then one day, as I was watching the therapist work on the small bicep that remained, I saw a twitch! This was the first sign of life in my arm in fifteen weeks! We began to work on this twitch, and in a week it became a twitch to the second power. This little improvement became a source of hope. I honestly feel that this was a result of the administration by the priesthood, because by all rights I should have remained totally paralyzed for the remainder of my life.

After returning to Salt Lake City, President Hinckley presented his sketch to the Temple Department, asking that the architects turn the concept into building plans as soon as possible. Seeing an opportunity to expand the functions of the building, the department’s architects created a plan for a larger building—nearly twice the size of President Hinckley’s initial concept. To build this building, they would need a variance to the height limitations and other restrictions imposed on buildings in the area.
When the plans were completed, permission was sought to build this expanded facility, but after many months of negotiations with Hong Kong officials, the proposed building was rejected.
At the April 1993 general conference, President Hinckley invited Brother Simmons and Elders Brough, Carmack, and Tai to his office. He asked why the approval process was going so slowly and what might be done to obtain a building permit. After referring to President Hinckley’s earlier experience in Hong Kong and testifying of the feelings the Area Presidency had on that occasion, the Area Presidency unanimously recommended that the Church return to the original concept described by President Hinckley in Hong Kong.
Once the plans were redone to reflect the original concept in President Hinckley’s sketch, the necessary approvals were quickly obtained. Within days, various British, Hong Kong, and Chinese officials issued permits for the temple’s construction.
On May 26 and 27, 1996, President Gordon B. Hinckley dedicated the Hong Kong China Temple. In the dedicatory prayer, he prayed:
“Thy Church in this area now comes to full maturity with the dedication of this sacred temple. We pray that this harvest of souls may continue, that in the future as in the present, Thy people may be free and secure in their worship and that none shall hinder the service of missionaries called to this area. We pray that Thy work may grow and prosper in the great Chinese realm, and may those who govern be ever receptive to those called and sent as messengers of revealed truth.”

The name Rudger Clawson will, unfortunately, be unfamiliar to many of you. For forty-five years Brother Clawson was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and for twenty-two of those years served as the president of that quorum. But long before any of those responsibilities came to him, he had a chance to prove his faithfulness and demonstrate in his youth just how willing he was to defend his beliefs, even at the peril of his life.

As a young man Brother Clawson had been called on a mission to the Southern States. At that time in America’s history, well over one hundred years ago, malicious mobs were still in existence, outlaws who threatened the safety of members of the Church and others. Elder Clawson and his missionary companion, Elder Joseph Standing, were traveling on foot to a missionary conference when, nearing their destination, they were suddenly confronted by twelve armed and angry men on horseback.

With cocked rifles and revolvers shoved in their faces, the two elders were repeatedly struck and occasionally knocked to the ground as they were led away from their prescribed path and forced to walk deep into the nearby woods. Elder Joseph Standing, knowing what might lie in store for them, made a bold move and seized a pistol within his reach. Instantly one of the assailants turned his gun on young Standing and fired. Another mobber, pointing to Elder Clawson, said, “Shoot that man.” In response every weapon in the circle was turned on him.

It seemed to this young elder that his fate was to be the same as that of his fallen brother. He said: “I … at once realized there was no avenue of escape. My time had come. … My turn to follow Joseph Standing was at hand.” He folded his arms, looked his assailants in the face, and said, “Shoot.”

Whether stunned by this young elder’s courage or now fearfully aware of what they had already done to his companion, we cannot know, but someone in that fateful moment shouted, “Don’t shoot,” and one by one the guns were lowered. Terribly shaken but driven by loyalty to his missionary companion, Elder Clawson continued to defy the mob. Never certain that he might not yet be shot, young Rudger, often working and walking with his back to the mob, was able to carry the body of his slain companion to a safe haven where he performed the last act of kindness for his fallen friend. There he gently washed the bloody stains from the missionary’s body and prepared it for the long train ride home (in David S. Hoopes and Roy Hoopes, The Making of a Mormon Apostle: The Story of Rudger Clawson [New York: Madison Books, 1990], pp. 23–31).

I tell that story with some concern, hoping no one will dwell on the death of a young missionary or think gospel living brought only trials or tragedies in those early years. But I do share it for an ever younger and ever newer generation in the Church who may not know the gifts that earlier men and women—including young men and women—have given us in what our new film states simply in another single word—Legacy.

Gray shadows of disappointment nagged at Karl as he walked home in the dark between the two elders who had just baptized and then confirmed him a member of the Church. He had prayed that he might know whether the Church had been dreamed up by man or whether it had truly been established by the Lord, and he had fully expected the horizon to lighten when he came up out of the Elbe River. But the night was still dark and the sky was still black. No sign had been given.
As the three returned home through the dark together, their discussion centered on the authority of the priesthood. One of the elders spoke German and interpreted for Karl, who spoke only German, and then interpreted for the other elder, who spoke only English.
Suddenly there was no need for an interpreter! For a brief time both elders understood Karl’s questions and comments, and Karl understood their answers whether spoken in German or English! Karl’s prayer at the time of his baptism had been answered.
The elders felt this strange experience was a special blessing for all of them, but they did not know then that Karl’s baptism would prove to be a great blessing to all of the Church. Karl, who became well known throughout the Church as Dr. Karl G. Maeser, was twenty-seven at the time of his baptism, and he held the position of der Oberlehrer (head teacher) at the Budig Academy in Dresden, Germany. A brilliant student and teacher, Karl had first learned of the Mormon Church through a popular pamphlet written to ridicule its teachings. He wondered what could cause anyone to have such hatred for a church, and he decided to learn more about it.
There were no Mormons in the country around Dresden at that time, but Karl accidentally discovered there were missionaries in Denmark. So he wrote to the mission president there for information and was sent pamphlets and books. Carefully studying the material, he became interested in the teachings of the Church and asked that a missionary be sent to Dresden to explain things to him. Two months later, in October 1855, Karl became the first member of the Church in that area of Germany.
In the spring of 1876 Dr. Maeser, who had emigrated to the United States, was called by President Brigham Young to establish the Brigham Young Academy in Provo, Utah.

Several years ago my husband received a job promotion, and we moved to another state. During the first few weeks in our new home I was often lonely and depressed.
One day a letter came from my former Relief Society president. She wrote that she, too, had been the new sister in several wards and had always found the transition to be difficult. She shared the following ideas with me:
Don’t wait for people sitting next to you to introduce themselves; introduce yourself first!
Tell ward members that you’re happy to be in the area and look forward to getting to know them better. A positive attitude draws people to you.
Look for someone who needs you.
Ask the Relief Society or priesthood quorum leaders for a visiting teaching or home teaching route.
Ask the Relief Society or priesthood quorum leaders for the names of ward members who share your interests. Then introduce yourself.
Take advantage of this lull in your life to do some of those things you’ve never had time to do before.
Don’t forget that you are a child of God and have a lot to offer.
By following these suggestions, I soon became comfortable in my new ward. I will always appreciate my friend’s thoughtfulness in helping to ease my transition.

“Today we are going to learn a new song,” Sister Reid announced. “It’s called ‘Baptism.’ Everyone close your eyes and listen to the music.”
I closed my eyes and relaxed in my chair. The pianist started playing a melody that sounded soft and graceful, like flowing water. Then Sister Reid started singing: “Jesus came to John the Baptist, in Judea long ago, and was baptized by immersion in the River Jordan’s flow.”
I felt a tear slide down my cheek. I tried to wipe it away before Mom could see, but it was too late. Mom was the Primary president, and she always saw everything. I saw Mom look at me and smile sadly. She knew why I was crying.
After church, my little sister, Julie, hummed the song the whole ride home. I stayed silent.
“Do you want to color with me?” Julie asked when we got home.
I shook my head. “Maybe later. I’ve got to do something first.”
I found Dad in the living room. He was sitting in his favorite chair with a book open on his lap. He liked to read while Julie, Mom, and I went to church.
I took a deep breath. “Dad?” I said. “Can I get baptized?”
Dad closed the book and asked me to sit by him.
“Oh, Sadie. We’ve talked about this. My answer is still no,” he said.
“But I really want to!” I said. “I turned eight a few months ago, and I’ve thought about it a lot. I know the Church is true, and the longer I wait, the more I know I want to be baptized.”
Dad shook his head. “I still think you’re too young to make such a big decision. But you know I love you.”
“I know,” I said. I knew Dad wanted what was best for me. He just didn’t think I was ready to make this choice.
I ran to my room and bowed my head. I prayed harder than I ever had before. “Heavenly Father, I really want to be baptized. Please help Dad understand.”
At first nothing happened, but I stayed on my knees. The melody of “Baptism” ran through my mind. After a while, I didn’t feel so sad. Instead, I felt peaceful inside. I started thinking about all of the things I could do, even though I couldn’t be baptized yet.
I could keep praying and keep going to Primary. I could be an example for Julie, and maybe I could even ask Mom to fast for me next week.
The peaceful feeling stayed with me as I headed down to dinner. I didn’t know when, but one day I would be baptized. And it would be worth the wait.
Six months later, two days before her ninth birthday, Sadie’s dad gave her permission to be baptized.

Many participants are finding that the education gained through PEF leads to better jobs with hours that allow them more time to serve in the Church. Miriam Erquiza, a returned missionary from the Philippines, completed a two-year web design program and, through “mighty prayer,” obtained a job at a travel agency. This position allowed her to support her family and find time to serve as Young Women president and as an institute teacher.

I recently lost my leg in a train accident.
I was sitting in the train when I felt my phone leave my hands—someone robbed me. Without thinking, I ran after the man through a train car that didn’t have doors. I’m not sure exactly what happened, but suddenly I was below the train, yelling for help.
I woke up in the hospital a few days later. I learned that I had lost my right leg. During my stay in the hospital, I cried many times. But my family, friends, and Church family were always with me, helping me.
I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ also helped me. Before each surgery, I always said a personal prayer that everything would be alright and that I wouldn’t be afraid. Every time I felt hopeless, the Lord was there.
I continue to get better and am striving to press forward with the Savior’s help.
Every time I felt hopeless, the Lord was there.

I was called to a home in a little village in New Zealand one day. There the Relief Society sisters were preparing the body of one of our Saints. They had placed his body out in front of the big house, as they call it—the house where the people come to wail and weep and mourn over the dead—when in rushed the dead man’s brother.

He said, “Administer to him.”

The young natives said, “Why, you shouldn’t do that; he’s dead.”

“You do it!”

This same old man that I had had with me when his niece was ill was there. The younger native got down on his knees and anointed the dead man. Then this great old sage got down and blessed him and commanded him to arise. You should have seen the Relief Society sisters scatter.

He sat up and said, “Send for the elders; I don’t feel very well.”

Of course, all of that was just psychological effect on that dead man. Wonderful, isn’t it—this psychological effect business?

We told him he had just been administered to, and he said, “Oh, that was it.”

He said, “I was dead. I could feel life coming back into me just like a blanket unrolling.”

He outlived the brother who had come in and told us to administer to him.

Paul, a fifteen-year-old with a delightful sense of humor, also took the bishop’s challenge seriously. Though scripture study was not a part of his daily routine, he decided to begin the day by reading the scriptures. “I didn’t know why it was so important to me to read the scriptures that day, but it was,” he explained. “Several times Wednesday night I woke up, feeling sure that I had overslept. Finally, when my alarm went off, I reached for my Book of Mormon.”
He read for about forty-five minutes. “Reading the scriptures seemed to set the tone for the entire day,” he said. “It’s not always easy to get along with school friends, teachers, and your family, and my ‘perfect day’ was not different. I made some mistakes, but I did a lot better than I do most days.
“It also helped me to be much more aware of my blessings, of the things I should be doing, and of my mistakes,” he added. “Often during the day I wondered what I could do to be better.”

Then I met Vanessa. One day after we’d been together a while, she said, “We need religion in this house.” By then we had three children.
With the world as it is, we worried about what spiritual direction we were going to give our children. I thought that if I was going back to religion, I would go back to my church. I remembered it was a place with good people.
I talked to a member of the Church and told him I was thinking about returning to church.
“Please come back!” he said.
My biggest worry was that my children would think church was boring and wouldn’t like it, but they did like it. As we continued going to church, Vanessa decided that there was nothing similar to the Church that helps families grow together. It was exactly what she was looking for. Vanessa and I got married, and she and our children got baptized.
Now we’re walking the gospel path as a family. Our goal is to be sealed together in the temple.