Gospel Story Finder

Then, one night, I dreamed I was on a beautiful beach. A man with white hair was waist deep in the water. He had on white clothing and was holding up a copy of the Book of Mormon and encouraging me to come into the water, telling me that the Master wanted me. The next morning, I sketched a picture of the man I had seen in my dream. In the meantime, I continued my search for the truth.
Sometime later, two missionaries came to my home. Seeing that they held a copy of the Book of Mormon, I asked them in and showed them the picture I had drawn. The missionaries were very surprised. They told me it looked very much like a picture of President David O. McKay.
They asked if they could have the picture. Somehow the story of my dream and the picture itself got to Salt Lake City, and I received a letter from Elder Joseph Fielding Smith, who was then President of the Quorum of the Twelve. In the letter, he bore his testimony and counseled me to be baptized.
A missionary was given permission to extend his mission a week and stay in my home while we studied the gospel together. But, even after all this, my fear of making a mistake immobilized me, and I soon lost contact with the missionaries.
I continued to study the gospel, however, and one day, late in 1974, I left a note at the chapel in Wollongong, New South Wales, saying I wanted to meet with the missionaries. Once again they began teaching me. Three times they set a date for my baptism, and each time I postponed it. (Once they even had the font filled!)
My indecision came to an end when I was offered an excellent position as a translator for the Australian government. For this position I would have to travel to Canberra each Sunday, making it impossible for me to attend church. I decided not to join the Church, and to take the job.
Not long after I made the decision, I suffered a heart attack, which left me unfit to accept the position. Once again I promised to be baptized, but this time persecution from my former minister friends made me change my mind.
I was then offered a position as a Calvinist bishop, responsible for all the migrants in New South Wales. As I contemplated this offer, I suffered another heart attack—my seventh. I realized then that I could die at any time, and that I wanted to be baptized.
At last, on 15 March 1975, after knowing the truth but putting off acting on it for so long, I was baptized.
I have a great desire now to share the gospel with my fellowmen—especially those in Hungary. I have translated fourteen tracts into Hungarian, and much of the Book of Mormon. One day I hope to return to Hungary as a missionary and share with my former countrymen the restored gospel—the gospel the Lord had been preparing me to receive for so many years.

A story is told of a certain rabbi:
This rabbi . . . went on a journey with the prophet Elijah. They walked all day, and at nightfall they came to the humble cottage of a poor man, whose only treasure was a cow. The poor man ran out of his cottage, and his wife ran too, to welcome the strangers for the night and to offer them all the simple hospitality which they were able to give in straitened circumstances. Elijah and the Rabbi were entertained with plenty of the cow’s milk, sustained by home-made bread and butter, and they were put to sleep in the best bed while their kindly hosts lay down before the kitchen fire. But in the morning the poor man’s cow was dead. . . .

They walked all the next day, and came that evening to the house of a very wealthy merchant, whose hospitality they craved. The merchant was cold and proud and rich, and all that he would do for the prophet and his companion was to lodge them in a cowshed and feed them on bread and water. In the morning, however, Elijah thanked him very much for what he had done, and sent for a mason to repair one of his walls, which happened to be falling down, as a return for his kindness.

The Rabbi . . . , unable to keep silence any longer, begged the holy man to explain the meaning of his dealings with human beings.

“In regard to the poor man who received us so hospitably,” replied the prophet, “it was decreed that his wife was to die that night, but in reward for his goodness God took the cow instead of the wife. I repaired the wall of the rich miser because a chest of gold was concealed near the place, and if the miser had repaired the wall himself he would have discovered the treasure. Say not therefore to the Lord: What doest thou? But say in thy heart: Must not the Lord of all the earth do right?”

Many years ago I heard the story of the son of King Louis XVI of France. King Louis had been taken from his throne and imprisoned. His young son, the prince, was taken by those who dethroned the king. They thought that inasmuch as the king’s son was heir to the throne, if they could destroy him morally, he would never realize the great and grand destiny that life had bestowed upon him.
They took him to a community far away, and there they exposed the lad to every filthy and vile thing that life could offer. They exposed him to foods the richness of which would quickly make him a slave to appetite. They used vile language around him constantly. They exposed him to lewd and lusting women. They exposed him to dishonor and distrust. He was surrounded 24 hours a day by everything that could drag the soul of a man as low as one could slip. For over six months he had this treatment—but not once did the young lad buckle under pressure. Finally, after intensive temptation, they questioned him. Why had he not submitted himself to these things—why had he not partaken? These things would provide pleasure, satisfy his lusts, and were desirable; they were all his. The boy said, “I cannot do what you ask for I was born to be a king.”

In the marvelous experience of Brigham Young in February of 1847, when the Prophet Joseph appeared to him in a dream or vision, Brigham pleaded to be reunited with the Prophet. Brigham Young asked the Prophet if he had a message for the Brethren. The Prophet said:
“Tell the people to be humble and faithful, and be sure to keep the spirit of the Lord and it will lead them right. Be careful and not turn away the small still voice; it will teach you what to do and where to go; it will yield the fruits of the kingdom. Tell the brethren to keep their hearts open to conviction, so that when the Holy Ghost comes to them, their hearts will be ready to receive it.”
The Prophet further directed Brigham Young as follows: “They can tell the Spirit of the Lord from all other spirits; it will whisper peace and joy to their souls; it will take malice, hatred, strife and all evil from their hearts; and their whole desire will be to do good, bring forth righteousness and build up the kingdom of God” (Manuscript History of Brigham Young, 1846–1847, compiled by Elden J. Watson, Salt Lake City, 1971, page 529).

Coming from a small town in Idaho, serving a mission in a large city was a big change for me. Everywhere I went, there were good people who were striving to do what was right, but there was also a varying concentration of people who were unaware of what was right or even actively pursuing what was wrong. This led to different levels of safety in different neighborhoods. In the very worst places, nobody came to pick up the garbage. People would just put their trash in empty lots where it piled up higher and higher. Drug dealing and other crimes were common and gunshots could be heard throughout the night. People sitting on their porches would be shot by people just driving by. Houses would be abandoned and then condemned, and the city would knock them down and nobody would rebuild there. I realized that what determines the safety of a place is the set of laws that the people in that place generally agree to—not necessarily the laws that are on the books but the laws that they actually abide by, the ones that are written on their hearts.

Some time back while attending stake conference—as the closing hymn was being sung—I felt impressed to look at the choir. The voices of the choir members were melodious beyond description and they all had beautiful smiles on their faces. Somewhere on the back row I spotted a sister with tears in her eyes and thought that she probably has been moved by the song that was sung: “God Be with You Till We Meet Again.” Immediately after the closing prayer was given, I sprang to my feet and headed to that sister in the choir. I just felt that I had to thank her for her contribution to the spirit of the conference.

I asked her whether the hymn we sang had a special meaning to her. She nodded and with tears streaming down her cheeks she said, “I lost my husband a few weeks ago and as if that is not enough, I then lost our daughter who was about two years old. All I have left is my daughter, who is about ten years old. I have been contemplating whether or not I should be singing in the choir, but today as the closing hymn was sung, I felt the presence of my husband and our daughter.” She then closed with this observation, “I have been praying to Father in Heaven for two things: first that He would strengthen my faith in Jesus Christ and then to give me an understanding of the holy Resurrection; second that the presiding officer would come over and say something that would strengthen my faith.” I don’t remember saying anything to that dear sister, but I remember how my faith was strengthened by her unwavering faith and by the fact that her prayer was an answer to my own. Before that very conference I had prayed to be led to someone to whom I would have an opportunity to minister—instead I think she ministered to me that day.

I was down in a husbands-and-wives meeting in Provo years ago when a lovely sister bore her testimony as to the joy that had come into her home since her husband had become active in the Church. She told about going through the temple with her husband. She told how he had been inactive, how he had smoked and hadn’t been advanced in the priesthood, and how someone took hold of him and finally helped him to become worthy and ready to receive the priesthood; and the bishop had finally given him a recommend to go to the temple. After she had described that wonderful evening, she said, “Here, five little girls came in to be sealed to their father and mother. This man of God pronounced us a family for the eternities.” And as she finished this story and bore her testimony, she looked over the pulpit and down in front of her where her husband was seated. She seemed to forget for that moment that there was anybody there but just the two of them, and she said to him, “Daddy, I can’t tell you how happy the girls now are and how grateful we are for what you have done for us, because, you see, Daddy, except for you who holds the priesthood, neither the children nor I could be together as a family in the hereafter. Thank God for our daddy who holds the key and unlocks the door to an eternal family home.”

Soon after my 18th birthday, I was invited by my bishop, who happened to be my father, to work on the ward welfare farm. The assignment was to thin beets in the company of other priesthood holders. I was a master of this slavelike labor; I have a lame back to prove it. I could do an acre in one day, providing I started before sunup and ended long after sundown, and providing I cared little about standing erect for several days.
I worked diligently up one row and down another, hoping to finish the task early. One of the older workers was my stake president, a banker by profession. It pleased me to see him digging in the soil and sweating under the hot sun. It was the first time I had seen this fastidious man dressed in anything other than a dark suit, white shirt, and conservative tie. I must admit that I enjoyed watching him get his hands dirty. In fact, I was so carried away by this pleasure that I sped up the soiling by deliberately kicking up clouds of dust in his direction as I moved by.
On one move past President Tietjen, he called my name and invited me to engage in conversation. I stopped, laid down my hoe, and sat on the soft ground. He asked, “Carlos, how old are you?”
I replied, “18.”
“Do you know how old I am?” he continued.
“Oh, about 70,” was my quick and foolish answer. I overestimated the mark by some 15 years.
Laughing outwardly, and I suspect crying inwardly, he said, “My time on earth is running out. Yours is just beginning. Carlos, would you sell to me the next ten years of your life?”
I thought to myself, what’s wrong with this money changer? Can’t he forget money and buying and selling for just one morning?
He was able to discern my thoughts and to note my discomfort. He quickly added, “I know that it is impossible for you to transfer to me part of your life. However, if it were possible, would you sell?”
With little hesitation I blurted out, “No, I would not.”
“Suppose I offered you $100,000 for those years,” he pressed.
Again, I declined his offer, saying that I had things to do in the years ahead.
During the next ten years, my visits with President Tietjen were few and scattered. On each occasion, he would refer back to the question asked in the beet field. He would say, “Will you take $90,000 for the remaining nine years? $80,000 for the next eight?” And on it went until ten years were gone.
It didn’t take me the full decade to appreciate the profound lesson which my wonderful church leader was trying to teach. He caused me to treasure those formative and crucial years between 18 and 28. He also motivated me to make plans and to initiate actions that would enable me to claim the most of my opportunities.
Earlier I shared a beet field conversation which I had with my stake president years ago. You will recall that I rejected his offer of $100,000 for ten years of my life. Those years between 18 and 28 came and went like a dream in the night. Have you any idea what I would have lost had I been willing and able to sell those years?
—Two years of military service in World War II, a precious time of testing.
—Nearly three years in the Palestine-Syrian Mission, an experience of eternal worth.
—Four years at the University of Utah, a precious learning opportunity.
My first year of teaching in the public schools, a time when gifts and interests reached a peak.
And cradled within all of this is marriage to my childhood sweetheart and the birth of a daughter and son.
Can you place a monetary value upon these formative years? No! They are priceless.

Carolina tried to listen to her teacher. But she could not stop looking at her friend Ramón. He didn’t have any hair!
His hair had been falling out for a while. Now he was bald.
Carolina heard a sound behind her. Cesar and Luis were giggling. She hoped they weren’t laughing at Ramón.
All morning, Ramón hunched his shoulders. He didn’t raise his hand. He looked sad. Carolina wished she could help him feel better.
At last it was time to play outside. Ramón was the first one out of the classroom. When Carolina got outside, she couldn’t see him anywhere! He wasn’t playing soccer. He wasn’t climbing on the bars. And he wasn’t playing hopscotch by the teacher.
There he was! Ramón was standing in the corner of the yard. And Cesar and Luis were there too. Carolina walked closer.
“Look how big his head is!” Cesar yelled.
Luis laughed. “I’d shave my head too if I had such ugly hair.”
Ramón’s hands were clenched into fists. He looked like he might cry.
Carolina ran up to Ramón. “Do you want to play with me?” she asked. She held out her hand, and they walked away together. They kept walking until they were close to the teacher. No one would bother them there.
“Do you want to play hopscotch?” Carolina asked.
Ramón nodded. He drew chalk lines on the ground.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m OK now.” Ramón smiled. “Thanks for helping me.”
Carolina smiled. She was glad she had been brave enough to help her friend!
When has someone helped you? How did it make you feel?
This story took place in Paraguay.

Ella W. was playing with her friends in the park when some of her friends lost their pet chameleon. This might not sound like that big of a deal. But remember, chameleons change color to blend in with their surroundings. After searching for a while, Ella decided it was time to pray in faith. They were soon able to find the chameleon in a tree! “Once it was in someone’s arms, we said a thank-you prayer to Heavenly Father,” Ella says.

The Gestewitz family has a great love for missionary work. In early 1987 the missionaries knocked on the door. Daniel’s mother, Tracy, answered it and was very curious about the young men and their message. She had seen the young men walking up and down the street in front of her home and had often wondered who they were and just why they were out on foot in the middle of the winter. So she invited them to come back when her husband, Kenneth, would be home. At the end of April Daniel’s parents were baptized and became members of the Lancaster Pennsylvania First Ward. A year later, when he was four years old, Daniel’s family was sealed in the temple.

I used to get upset at church when I was distracted by children making a noise or by people whispering together. One Sunday I prayed fervently to my Heavenly Father that I would be in tune with the speakers and feel the Spirit. I concentrated on what was said, and somehow the usual distractions seemed to disappear. I was so involved with the messages being delivered that I cried even through the closing prayer. I learned an important lesson that day.

Maria Espinoza AlvealChillan Chile Stake

Curt Dennis and his wife, Sharon, had moved into their home exactly one month before mud filled the basement and covered their yard. Discouraged by the sheer effort it would take to clean up, Curt was trying to decide where to start when he saw a most unusual sight. “It was fantastic. It was Sunday, and I was standing by my house when I saw a hundred people with shovels over their shoulders walking down the street. The last twenty or so peeled off and came over and started digging the mud out from around my home. They were the members of the wards around here. It was incredibly backbreaking work lugging mud out of here in wheelbarrows, but with two crews working all day, they accomplished more than I could have with the tractor I was planning on renting.”
The Dennises appreciated the help they received. “We are getting to know a lot of people really fast. We are so appreciative of the people just pitching in. There is no substitute for a lot of help.”
Curt has found that the experience has changed his mind on a lot of things. “I think the thing that felt best was people coming up and wanting to help. It wasn’t like they felt they had to; they really felt good about it. The fact that they were there helped us know that things would be all right.”

Caroling isn’t much of an Argentine Christmas tradition. In fact, Christmas here is quite different from the traditional snowy scene you might think of. Because we live in the Southern Hemisphere, Christmas always makes me think of a large fruit salad!
So when my parents suggested we try caroling as a family, my siblings and I felt a mix of confusion and excitement. We weren’t sure of our musical abilities, so we decided to make and bring some cookies to give the people we visited a reason to smile, at least.
A man named Joaquín had been a part of our ward for as long as I could remember. That December he had gotten very sick and could no longer attend sacrament meeting. My dad and brothers were among those who took the sacrament to him in the hospital after church on Sundays.
On the Sunday before Christmas, our whole family jumped into the car to visit Joaquín, hoping we would bring a warm Christmas spirit. When we arrived, the nurse directed us to his bed. He had his scriptures and a hymnal at his bedside, as if he had been expecting us.
He was so obviously happy that we were there, and we all immediately felt such love for him. My brothers prepared, blessed, and passed the sacrament. Before leaving, we sang the beautiful melody in “Far, Far Away on Judea’s Plains”: “Glory to God in the highest; peace on earth, goodwill to men” (Hymns, no. 212).
Certainly it was peace and goodwill that entered our hearts as he called us “angels” and thanked us for visiting, when all we had wanted was to bring those feelings to him.
Julia G., Buenos Aires, Argentina

One Sunday morning last December, I was in Idaho Falls doing some Church work. I turned down a street behind a pickup truck pulling a livestock trailer. As the driver made the turn, the side door of his trailer swung open, and an old Holstein cow rolled out and landed in someone's yard. It sat there for a second and then got up and bellowed in disbelief. The truck driver didn't stop, so I thought I'd better catch him and tell him his cow had fallen out. I honked my horn, flashed my lights, and waved my arm out the window, but he just wouldn't stop. It was slick with snow and ice on the road, so I couldn't get too close. So I just kept following him. I followed for almost 15 minutes, trying to get his attention. Finally he pulled into his farmyard. When he stopped, the trailer door swung open again and out came three more old cows. I said to him, "Hey, you lost one of your cows back there!" "Oh," he said, and counted "one, two, three" as the cows walked away. I said, "If you want, I'll go back with you to show you where it fell out". He said, "Oh, I think I know. Was it where you started honking your horn and waving at me?"

Right before I graduated from college, my wife and I were pondering two questions: when we should begin having children and where to go after graduation. We spent many hours talking about these intimidating issues but hadn’t come to any conclusions.
One particular Sunday, our conversation slowly turned into a debate, which then escalated into an argument. At that moment, the doorbell rang. We were surprised to find our home teachers standing in the doorway.
We invited them in and listened to their message. One of our home teachers began talking about Moses and the children of Israel making their escape from Egypt. When the children of Israel got to the shores of the Red Sea, they could go no further, and the Egyptians were quickly approaching. The scriptures say that the children of Israel “were sore afraid” (Exodus 14:10). When Moses prayed for guidance, the Lord responded, “Wherefore criest thou unto me? speak unto the children of Israel, that they go forward” (Exodus 14:15).
As soon as our home teacher read that scripture, the feelings of frustration and fear melted away. My wife and I realized that we had been sitting on the banks of the Red Sea wondering what to do but that in order to “see the salvation of the Lord” (Exodus 14:13), we would have to go forward.
In our case, going forward meant making an informed decision, working diligently, and trusting in the Lord. We had to stop debating and start acting in faith. As we followed the Lord’s guidance, the sea of choices before us parted, and we were able to walk through unscathed. We are grateful for the blessings we received from moving forward in faith and for home teachers who inspired us to take the first steps.

It was also during this time that I was called to serve as a high councilman for the Kahului stake, which required me to fly to Maui three Sundays a month to fulfill my assignment with the Kahului Second Ward. This was hard for me. I left on the first flight out on Sunday morning and returned on the last flight home. My wife was left to wrestle three rambunctious boys in church and the entire Sunday until I returned home. But I grew so much in this calling. I was rather young, and this was my first true involvement in church leadership and administration, and this served as a great training ground for when I would be called to serve as a Bishop years later, here in La’ie.

One of the greatest experiences of this calling was bringing my wife along one Sunday. We flew into Kahului and took the long windy road to the Hana chapel for my speaking assignment. I remember the tiny, hallowed building nestled in lush green land – it was breathtaking. I remember standing up at that pulpit. My heart was touched, and I was humbled as I looked out into the congregation of no more than 40 saints with their warm smiles, there to worship together. Immediately following the services, one of the families invited us to their backyard for lunch. It was the best lunch ever! Tuna sandwiches, mountain apples, fish, and poi. The Hana saints strengthened my testimony that day. They were few in numbers, but their Spirit was powerful! Although it was not easy to be away from my family each Sunday to fulfill my calling, I quickly learned that when we serve ANYTIME, ANYWHERE, God not only builds up His kingdom, but He builds up His servants.

When I was a child in Samoa, my friends and I never seemed to get tired of swimming. It was our favorite thing to do. I remember that as a four-year-old I even wanted to go swimming with my friends on Sunday after Sunday School—as if there weren’t enough hours for playing together in six days a week. But I was reared in a good Latter-day Saint home, and I recall vividly how my wonderful mother worked with me to keep the Sabbath day holy.
Mother solved the problem by directing me toward the scriptures. Knowing how much I liked to show off by reciting from books, she asked me how I would like to learn to read and recite passages from the scriptures. I jumped for joy at the opportunity, so she said to me, “All right, I’ll meet with you every Sunday after dinner to help you learn passages from these two books”—she held up the Bible and the Book of Mormon.
The first passages I learned to repeat from memory were the Ten Commandments and the first Psalm. Then I learned to recite the story of Lehi’s family from the Book of Mormon. Naturally, the more I learned, the more the principles contained in these scriptures became a part of my life—something that was strengthened by the example of my parents, who lived the gospel very faithfully in our home. By the time I left home for college in 1962, the teachings of my parents were well planted in me.

As a bishop, I have had many opportunities to work with those that have seemed to have lost that joy that we have been talking about. As a matter of fact, part of our ward boundaries includes the local jail. I have had many chances to “teach the spirits in prison”. There is one example I would like to share with you.

Let me tell you about a young lady who, even though she may have been raised in the church, made some decisions and choices which took her away from the church. She found herself with group of friends that did things that were not in keeping with the standards of the gospel. She gave in to peer pressure and soon found herself doing the same things they were.

She was arrested by the authorities and was sentenced to jail. She spent nearly 18 months without any contact from her family or friends or even the church. While she was in jail, her husband divorced her. Her son went with her ex-husband, and her daughter went to be raised with her mother. Can you imagine what it must have been like to be all alone in that kind of situation? Can you feel the loss of joy she must have experienced? You need to realize that in the jail, there’s not a lot for you to do. The atmosphere is not necessarily conducive to the spirit of the Lord. The feeling of joy does not abound there. Sometimes, when I visit, I feel the repentance process in full swing. There are many there that have realized their mistakes and are paying the price. Knowing that in order to have a fullness of joy, they need to repent for breaking those laws. There are others that feel no remorse and as soon as they are out, they will probably do the same thing all over again!

This young lady was beginning to understand what repentance was all about. She sensed the lack of joy and happiness all around her. She was willing to accept the consequences of her choices. When I was given the opportunity to meet with her and to feel of her spirit, much repentance had been made. She told me that she wasn’t even sure whether she was still a member of the church or not or if she could ever come back to the church. She did know that whether she was a member or not, she could still pray. She found herself praying for changes in her life. Her heart had softened. Even in jail, she was responding to the whisperings of the spirit. The Lord was answering her prayers, too, even though she was still having a hard time feeling the spirit.

She had been sentenced to serve out a term that included hard time in a federal prison up north, but by some divine intervention, rather than going to the State Pen, she was transferred here to do some of that time. She didn’t know exactly why the transfer was changed, but the Lord knew! It just so happens that her mother, who had been taking care of her daughter – her granddaughter – live close to this area, and they now have the opportunity of visiting her each week. Think of the great joy it must have been for her to see them both after such a long time of being alone. She mentioned how grateful she was to the Lord and His great blessing in sending her here to be with her family. I felt blessed to be able to visit her and to see some of the joy of the gospel come back into her heart. I wish I could say that she lived happily ever after and is now serving as a Relief Society President in some ward, but the story isn’t over yet. She still must pay the rest of her debt to society, but there is hope and joy that will come to her as she strives to be obedient to the commandments. That is a promise that He gives to all of us. And I have never known the Lord to ever renegotiate on His promises!

Nuremberg Germany Stake
Seventy-five youth and 15 leaders from the Nuremberg Germany Stake met on the outskirts of Garmisch-Partenkirchen for what leaders hoped would be both a physical and spiritual challenge during a four-day hike through the Bavarian Alps.
Each day of the hike began with a scriptural theme, and each day brought a different physical challenge—whether it was hiking up a trail or putting gear on rubber rafts so they could paddle across a lake.
In the end, they met their goal, and a fireside talk about not running faster than you are able was particularly applicable. “It was a hard tour for us physically, but we had some good experiences,” said Jennifer Kopischke.