Gospel Story Finder

For a while after I was baptized, I would stop going to church, then go back for a while, then stop again. But members of the ward visited me and invited me to come back. They told me the Church and the members missed and needed me. I decided to come back, and I’ve been active ever since. I realized how much I needed the Church. I can pray to Heavenly Father and feel good, and I can feel the Spirit. And so here I am!

I’m pretty much an average Latter-day Saint girl. I go to church and activities weekly and have been in my class presidency. I am very outgoing when it comes to talking about the Church and have many conversations about the Church with friends. I don’t use drugs, alcohol, or tobacco. I don’t watch R-rated movies, and I never swear. Most of the guidance that I have been given by my parents and leaders I take to heart and apply to my life.
But there was one area where I knew I could use a lot of improvement. Although I wasn’t extreme in my choice of clothing, and my dresses always had sleeves, I knew that there was still something that I should change—the length of my shorts and skirts. But I didn’t really want to change because my legs are one of my best features.
The first time that I started to see how the way you dress can affect people was during a two-week church program that had a dress code: knee-length skirts and shorts. So, in other words, no shorts at all for me. Since nothing I owned was long enough, I wore pants the whole time. During those two weeks, I was able to meet two young men who were my age. We spent a lot of time talking and developed a close bond. Occasionally we would see girls in the community wearing tank tops and shorts that barely covered them. For the first time in my life, I realized the effect that women can have on men. My friends talked about how they didn’t want to see girls wearing short shorts and skirts, but sometimes it was hard to avoid.
After two weeks were over, I had the opportunity to drive to a lake for a week’s vacation. I went home, packed my clothes, and was off. I found that after being so modest for two weeks, all my shorts and skirts seemed to have shrunk! For the first couple of days I wore the few pair of longer shorts that I had, but slowly I fell right back into my old habits.
Only a couple of Sundays had passed when I walked into a Young Women class that would start a change that will last forever. The lesson was on dressing modestly, and I don’t think that the lesson was all that different than the ones I had heard before. But because of my experience a few weeks earlier, I was finally ready to hear it. After I got home from church, I went to my room and decided I needed to get rid of a lot of my clothes. I told my parents about the lesson that we had just had and that I had decided to make a change.
Later that night my dad came and told me he was proud of me. He then told me that he would like to buy me a couple of dresses so that I could have some knee-length dresses for church. I told him that would be great.
The next night, I had a big surprise waiting for me in my bedroom when I got home. Lying on top of my bed were several different modest items of clothing my parents had purchased for me. I then tried them all on to see if the length was long enough and if they met my parents’ approval. The next step was to go through all my clothes and discard everything that was too short. It was hard for me to part with my favorite skirts and the shorts I loved so much, but I did. You will now never see me in anything that is shorter than my kneecap. I was also surprised to see what I could find in the stores. Now I just have to look a little bit harder, but modest things will show up.
I have never felt better about myself. I love being able to walk into church or go to the temple to do baptisms knowing that I am a child of God and feeling that I am representing Him in the way that He would want me to through the clothes that I wear.

Each summer, Henrik and his family take a vacation and visit their mormor (grandmother) who lives in Ålesund, on the west coast of Norway. Here the country looks very different from the rolling hills and farmlands near Lillestrøm. This coastal area of Norway has towering cliffs and deep fjords (narrow inlets of the sea). “One of our favorite things to do while we are there is to catch crabs at the seacoast,” says Henrik. “We like to go to two special places where the water is very cold and clear. We look under the stones and find the crabs, but then we let them go!” (Henrik’s dad says that the same crabs have probably been caught at least 10 times each summer!)

I continued attending church, and I pondered often what I learned there. I also read the Book of Mormon. One day I accepted the invitation to ask God if what I was learning was true. As I prayed, something strong touched my heart, and I thought, This is the right way. I already believe in God. It’s time to follow Him.
As I continued to pray and attend meetings, the Spirit continued to guide me. Finally I told the elders I wanted to hear the discussions. I wanted to follow God and return to His presence one day. I was baptized on 21 June 1993.

The reason this story, together with President Hinckley’s counsel, comes to mind is that they closely mirror my own experience with tithing. I learnt that rendering “to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s”4 in diligence and love of Heavenly Father can really change our so-called fortunes. Once I decided to bring tithes into the storehouse and prove the Lord of hosts,5 the debts that I had struggled to pay for some years were settled in a few months. My self-reliance improved as a result, and it has been getting better and better ever since. All of this was the result of listening to a well-prepared talk given in a normal church meeting I attended and decided to act on the teachings received.

With every calling she has, she actively looks for ways to serve the sisters in her ward and enjoys teaching the Young Women how to serve while developing their leadership skills. In February, the Young Women gathered toiletries to deliver to the widows in the ward for Valentines Day, along with homemade cupcakes the advisors baked. One widow said she felt blessed to have been remembered. A housebound widow appreciated being spoilt by the Young Women and enjoyed their visit—sadly she passed away two weeks later—but not before she had felt the love of the Lord, once again, through His servants.

“Right before I came on my mission,” said Elder Robert Hockett of the Griffin (Georgia) Ward, who will also serve in Rome, “I was made senior companion to a 30-year-old man who had just been baptized. I remember sitting with him as he told a family about hearing the missionaries read from the Book of Mormon, how he knew it was what he’d been looking for for more than 20 years. It was a very spiritual experience, and very humbling, to be assigned to teach a man older than me how to do home teaching.”

At the age of 17, my grandfather left Denmark to find a new life in America. He worked his way to Mendon, Utah, where his uncle lived. He was employed by his uncle to help him with his farming. After some period of time, he came to his uncle and said: “You Mormons are a funny people. I have worked with you for many months, and not once have you tried to tell me anything about your religion or invited me to attend church with you.” His uncle asked him if he would like to know something about it, and he answered affirmatively. So his uncle told him about the Prophet Joseph Smith and the coming forth of the Book of Mormon. He gave him a copy of the Book of Mormon to read. After doing some reading in the book, my grandfather gave it back to his uncle and said, “I don’t see anything in that book that has much value to me.” The next day he was out plowing the field, and his thoughts turned to the story his uncle had told him about the coming forth of the Book of Mormon. He thought in his mind that no young man with limited education could have produced such a book. Maybe he should give it a second look. He asked his uncle if he could borrow the book again. This time he could not put it down. The Spirit burned within him that this book was true. He asked for baptism and remained active throughout his entire life.

Maybe for our family it happened the night my husband John, was working late. Our daughter Katie had developed a sudden fever after dinner and was lying stretched out on the couch, whining and uncomfortable. Just then came Brother Braden’s knock at the door. Katie crawled into his lap the moment he sat down, and with a deep sigh of relief she fell asleep. I was unable to persuade him to put her into her bed and go home. Instead, he sat without moving, unwilling to disturb her, until her father had come home to take his place. Then he offered to stop at the pharmacy on his way home to get some medication for her. Later that night and again the next day she received phone calls from “my home teacher” to see that she was well.

The sun was going down as Tatsuki rode his bike home. He loved zooming down the small hill by his home, but he needed to be back before it was dark.
When Tatsuki rolled his bike to a stop, he saw his Primary teacher, Sister Yamada, walking up to his apartment building.
“Hi, Tatsuki,” Sister Yamada said with a smile. “I’m here to talk about your baptism.”
Tatsuki’s family had just started going to church again. He liked being with his friends in Primary, and he was especially excited to be baptized! Sister Yamada and Tatsuki rode the elevator together and joined Mom in the apartment.
“Tatsuki, I’m so glad you’ve chosen to follow Jesus Christ by being baptized,” Sister Yamada said. “When we are baptized, we make covenants with Heavenly Father. Do you know what a covenant is?”
Tatsuki didn’t know Sister Yamada was going to ask him questions. He started to feel a little nervous. But Mom smiled encouragingly.
“Promises?” he asked shyly.
“That’s right!” Sister Yamada said. “Heavenly Father promises us we can always have the Holy Ghost with us. Do you know what we promise Heavenly Father?”
Tatsuki shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll give you a hint—the promises are in the prayers we hear before we take the sacrament,” Sister Yamada said. “We promise Heavenly Father that we are willing to take upon us the name of Jesus Christ, to always remember Him, and to keep His commandments. Do you know what it means to take Jesus’s name upon us?”
Tatsuki shook his head again. Mom helped him. “It means we are happy to say we are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” she said. “It means we will do what Jesus would do if He were here.”
“What kinds of things would Jesus do?” Tatsuki asked.
“Jesus would be kind to people. He would help people who are sad or sick,” Sister Yamada said. “And He would teach people how to follow the commandments.”
Tatsuki had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He started to frown and said, “I don’t think I can be baptized.”
“Why?” Mom asked.
“There are so many promises! I don’t think I can be like Jesus every day!”
Mom gave Tatsuki a hug. “Remember when you helped Yuna when she was crying yesterday?”
Tatsuki nodded. His sister had been sad, so he had made funny faces and played with her until she was happy again.
“And remember how you helped your cousins share and be nice to each other last week? When you did that, you were following Jesus.”
Tatsuki didn’t know that’s what it meant to follow Jesus. He started to feel a little bit better. He could do those things!
Sister Yamada said, “And when we do make a mistake, we can repent. That means we can say we’re sorry and try to do better. When we repent, Heavenly Father forgives us. We can always keep trying!”
Tatsuki didn’t feel so worried anymore. He felt happy.
“I want to be baptized!” he said.
Mom and Sister Yamada smiled. Sister Yamada gave Tatsuki a Book of Mormon with his name written on it. Tatsuki felt happy that he could try each day to be like Jesus. Now he couldn’t wait to be baptized!

When I was about eight years old, my dad bought each of us boys a six-month-old horse. We started riding them when they were young. We rode them in the Ogden Pioneer Days parade.
When I was a few years older, Dad sometimes took us into the mountain canyons on horseback. One day, I needed to return home before the others for some reason. I had never done this alone before. When I came to one fork in the trail, I did not know which way to go. But I knew that Heavenly Father knew. So I got off my horse and knelt in prayer. After I got back on my horse, something inside me said, “Give the horse his rein and let him go where he wants.” I did that, and in about fifteen minutes, I came into a clearing and could see the way to go.

Betty was born on 4 January 1932 in Kadina, on the Yorke Peninsula of South Australia. It was during the Great Depression and her father, one of many looking for employment, moved his family to Whyalla to work at the newly opened shipyard.
They lived in a tent on the beach until Betty’s father could build a cabin for them. She remembers, “As far as you could see, the beach was lined with families living in tents.” Children loved living there and going for a swim anytime they wanted.

I carried a tray of food, prepared by my mother-in-law, into a cluttered and dusty home. The sole occupant sat where she always sat, on a big armchair positioned so she could see out the window. Her swollen legs were stretched in front of her and her cane, which she used only with great effort, leaned against her arm. She smiled when she saw me, thanked me for the food, and apologetically asked who I was. As I sat next to her and listened to her stories, I was filled with warmth and peace.
Three years later, I was on the floor with my two young children, bouncing them on my legs and singing a racehorse tune. Only a few feet away, my kitchen was in disarray and toys were scattered across the floor. I suddenly felt a reassurance from the Spirit that I was right where I needed to be. Warmth and peace flooded my soul, filling its worn edges and giving energy where there was none.
Another two years forward, I was lying on the bed. A pile of laundry was visible on the floor, and a stack of papers littered the desk to my left as I fed my newborn son for the fourth time that night. I brushed my fingertips against his long lashes, felt his soft bald head, and was thrilled when fingers curled around the lace of my shirt. I was so filled with warmth and peace that I didn’t even mind that I was sometimes awake at three in the morning.
In each of these cases, the Holy Ghost was with me, telling me I was in the right place and doing the right thing, and in each of these cases, I was in a messy home.

Becki Jackson’s dream had come true. She had been chosen for one of the starring roles in her high school’s musical production—something she had hoped for since she was a little girl.
With the stress of auditions behind her, Becki looked forward to learning her part. She took the musical score home. But as she looked through the manuscript, she was uncomfortable with many of the songs that seemed to have suggestive lyrics and double meanings. And her role was the worst!
This was her senior year—the first year the high school had put on a musical production in a long time. Her one-time opportunity to perform could be spoiled.
Becki and her family, who live in Fisherville, Ontario, Canada, and attend the Simcoe Branch, had been members of the Church for two years. Becki’s standards had always been high, but she was more determined than ever to uphold them now that she was a member of the Church and the only Latter-day Saint in her school.
When she went to her first rehearsal for the play, “I told my teacher-director that I wouldn’t sing those songs,” she says. “He tried to convince me that the lyrics were only supposed to be funny. They didn’t want to lose me as a lead, he said, but if I felt that strongly they would give me different songs to sing.” And different songs she did get!
At the next rehearsal, Becki was assigned to the chorus. No explanation was given. Another girl was assigned Becki’s lead role and was asked to sing the songs.
However, Becki’s classmates were so supportive of her stand that the teachers finally modified the songs by completely removing the verses that Becki had refused to sing.
Becki’s father, Kel Jackson, says, “I knew the strength of Becki’s testimony when I asked her if she was going to continue in the musical or drop out. She answered, ‘I have waited a long time for this, and I have worked hard. They may have taken away my part, but they did remove the bad words, and I am going to be in this production.’ Through weeks of rehearsal, she never again mentioned the situation or complained in any way.”
When asked if she was bitter toward her teachers for their actions, Becki answers, “I didn’t like their attitude about the songs, but they were nice people, and they were working hard to make this a production the school could be proud of.”
On opening night, Becki showed great delight in participating in her limited role, which included a one-line solo. “Many people questioned why she had not played a larger part,” comments her father. “It was then that I fully understood that she had played a larger part than any role in the play. She had set aside personal desires to act in a manner pleasing to her Father in Heaven. Becki’s example is a reminder that sacrifice for gospel principles will always lead to a starring role.”

We went on to Rock Creek Hollow, where the Willie Handcart Company made camp. Thirteen members of the Willie Company who perished from cold, exhaustion, and starvation are buried in a common grave at Rock Creek Hollow. Two additional members who died during the night are buried nearby. Two of those buried at Rock Creek Hollow were heroic children of tender years: Bodil Mortinsen, age nine, from Denmark, and James Kirkwood, age eleven, from Scotland.
Bodil apparently was assigned to care for some small children as they crossed Rocky Ridge. When they arrived at camp, she must have been sent to gather firewood. She was found frozen to death, leaning against the wheel of her handcart, clutching sagebrush.
Let me tell you of James Kirkwood. James was from Glasgow, Scotland. On the trip west, James was accompanied by his widowed mother and three brothers, one of whom, Thomas, was nineteen and crippled and had to ride in the handcart. James’s primary responsibility on the trek was to care for his little four-year-old brother, Joseph, while his mother and oldest brother, Robert, pulled the cart. As they climbed Rocky Ridge, it was snowing and there was a bitter cold wind blowing. It took the whole company twenty-seven hours to travel fifteen miles (24 k). When little Joseph became too weary to walk, James, the older brother, had no choice but to carry him. Left behind the main group, James and Joseph made their way slowly to camp. When the two finally arrived at the fireside, James, “having so faithfully carried out his task, collapsed and died from exposure and over-exertion. …”
I have wondered why these [courageous] pioneers had to pay for their faith with such a terrible price in agony and suffering. Why were not the elements tempered to spare them … ? I believe their lives were consecrated to a higher purpose through their suffering. Their love for the Savior was burned deep in their souls and into the souls of their children and their children’s children. …
Francis Webster, a member of the Martin Company, stated, “Everyone of us came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives for we became acquainted with him in our extremities [greatest suffering].” I hope that this priceless legacy of faith left by the pioneers will inspire all of us to more fully participate in the Lord’s work of bringing to pass the immortality and eternal life of His children.
(See Ensign, July 2002, pages 2–5.)

I missed seeing the first British Pageant as we live five hours from Chorley, and my husband isn’t keen on musicals. Although drama is my passion, I didn’t push him as I didn’t really know what the pageant was about. Our daughter signed up to be in the 2017 pageant, so I insisted that we went to support her as a family. It was so amazing. The size of the theatre, the expanse of the stage, and the number in the audience was breathtaking. Once the production began, I was captivated. The whole evening was inspiring, emotional, and so incredibly well presented that I went every night to see the pageant that week. We have since found early pioneers on both sides of our family and realise that the pageant stories are about our ancestors. This production touched our hearts so much and made us so grateful for the struggles of early pioneers so that we could have the gospel today, that it made us want to give something back. This year my husband and I, along with our three grandchildren, will all be appearing in the pageant family cast.

A similar scenario is played out in Cebu, in the southern part of the Philippines. Sister Hilda Bactin could not make it through the makeshift walkways that lead to people’s homes without the help of her companion, Sister Amy Andersen. Sister Bactin has polio, yet she carries on.

“My feeling is that I want to share the gospel of Jesus Christ. I love people, and my mission is everything I thought it would be,” says Sister Bactin.

She doesn’t want to talk about her disability. To her, it’s not really an issue. Sister Bactin was going to serve a mission. That much was certain. “When I was baptized I told myself I would become a missionary,” she recalls. Less than two years later, the goal was being fulfilled.

“Seeing [Sister Bactin] struggle to get to different places we go, and seeing her desire humbles me a lot,” says her companion.

One thing I have learned is that motherhood entails difficult decisions. When our first child was born, I had been working for about twelve years, first as a teacher and later as a lawyer. I wondered whether to continue working. My husband’s income was sufficient to meet our needs, but we were about twenty years older than most new parents. I wondered whether we would both survive to raise our children and, if I were widowed, how I would provide for them. I wondered how difficult it would be to find a job at the age of sixty should a need arise as our children entered college or received mission calls.
President Kimball, who was then the prophet, had counseled the sisters of the Church: “Some women, because of circumstances beyond their control, must work. We understand that. … Do not, however, make the mistake of being drawn off into secondary tasks which will cause the neglect of your eternal assignments such as giving birth to and rearing the spirit children of our Father in Heaven. Pray carefully over all your decisions” (Spencer W. Kimball, Ensign, Nov. 1979, p. 103; see also My Beloved Sisters, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1979, p. 41).
I took this counsel seriously. I knew that I had to decide whether I was among those who must work. After praying earnestly about the matter, I sought a priesthood blessing from my husband. The blessing promised that I would be able to make a decision that would be good for our family but did not indicate what the decision should be. I tried to foresee the effect my decision would have on my husband, my children, and me and to listen for inspiration. My choice was to become a full-time homemaker.
I have not regretted that decision. I have loved being home with the children, watching them grow, and helping them learn. But I remain aware that a time may come when I must provide for my family. Having tried to make a wise decision and to do those things I can to maintain employable skills, I feel I must and can trust the Lord to help me should such a need arise.

On the way, there’s a perfect chance to talk about life as a Latter-day Saint.
“I love living in Florida,” says Erin Mitchell, 13, one of three Beehives in the Panama City First Ward. “It hardly ever gets cold. And because it’s a tourist area, we get lots of visitors at church.”
Erin was “born and raised here. I’ve been a member for four years. Baptized April 27.” She rolls off the date like a great anniversary or a birthday, because for her it is both.
“I was in third grade. Our baby-sitter’s son’s friend, Lisa, started talking to me about the Church, and she asked me to go with her. I introduced my mom to her mom, and my mom joined the Church.” That was April 6. Then Erin was baptized. Then her father on June 21, and her brother James on February 25 the following year.
“I’m sure glad Lisa talked to me,” Erin says. “She brought our whole family into the Church.”

One evening in April 1836, for example, Elder Parley P. Pratt had retired early with pressing worries and a heavy heart. He didn’t know how he was going to meet his financial obligations. His wife had been seriously ill, and his aged mother had come to live with him. A year earlier the house he had been building had gone up in flames.
While he was deep in thought, a knock came at the door. Elder Heber C. Kimball entered and, filled with the spirit of prophecy, told Elder Pratt that he should travel to Toronto, Canada, where he would “find a people prepared for the fulness of the gospel” and that “many [would] be brought to the knowledge of the truth.”
Despite his worries, Elder Pratt departed. When he arrived in Toronto, at first no one seemed interested in hearing what he had to say.
Among those he met was John Taylor, who had been a Methodist preacher. John received Elder Pratt courteously but coolly. John Taylor had heard distorted rumors about a new sect, their “golden bible,” and stories of angels appearing to an “unlearned youth, reared in the backwoods of New York.”
A wise man, John Taylor had been seeking the truth all his life. He listened to what Elder Pratt had to say. Among other things, the stranger from America promised that anyone who investigated the gospel could know for himself, through the influence of the Holy Ghost, that it was true.
At one point John Taylor asked, “What do you mean by this Holy Ghost? … [Will it give] a certain knowledge of the principles that you believe in?”
The Apostle replied, “Yes, … and if it will not, then I am an impostor.”
Hearing this, John Taylor took up the challenge, saying, “If I find his religion true, I shall accept it, no matter what the consequences may be; and if false, then I shall expose it.”
Not only did he accept the challenge, but he “received that Spirit through obedience to the Gospel.” Soon he knew for himself what millions of others have since known, that the gospel of Jesus Christ has been restored to the earth.
Eventually, this man who had devoted his entire life to seeking the truth became the third President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.