Gospel Story Finder

A former missionary from Africa wrote a senior Church leader, apologising and seeking forgiveness for being offended by his teachings about a certain cultural tradition, which then led him to leave the Church. He humbly expressed: “Sadly, the fact that I took offense 15 years ago has made me pay an extremely heavy price. I lost so much—much more than I ever imagined. I am deeply embarrassed by the harm I may have caused along the way, but above all else I am pleased that I have found my way back.”

At a recent summer festival held here in Kumagaya, Japan, we had many people fill out questionnaires about the family and happiness. We realize that the family is the most important unit in the kingdom of God. We are indeed thankful for the opportunity to serve the Lord here in the Japan Tokyo Mission and watch the Church grow.
Elders Coleman, Sowards, Faux, and HundleyJapan Tokyo Mission

About a year ago I was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When my dad confirmed me, many of my family, friends, and neighbors were there with me. By the time the ordinance was done, I was in tears because I could feel the Spirit. I shook everyone’s hand and gave them a hug. From that day on, I have always tried to choose the right.

One evening by the seaside
I saw a crimson star.
It floated in the depths of night
And twinkled from afar.
Next morning at the seashore
I waded all around,
And there within a sheltered pool
That crimson star I found.

Elder Lund leaves soon for his mission. He told us, “I worked at a dry cleaner for two years. I found the position when I took a buddy to his interview. He told the lady he couldn’t take the job because of the hours but that I could. I did. I worked the cash register, took in dirty clothes, and gave out the clean ones. I also cleaned up after closing. When I started the job I was very shy. I learned to speak up and explain things to people. I gained a lot of confidence. Now I don’t have trouble communicating with people.
“My brother and I bought broken lawn mowers, repaired them, and sold them for a profit. We didn’t have to spend money for parts. They just needed our mechanical knowledge.
“I put my money into a savings account. I recommend everyone use a savings account. But give the bankbook to your mom so you can’t take the money out again. You need to start early in life to save because you can’t cram in the last few months like you might for a test.”

Haron Kamto from the Kayole 1st Ward, Nairobi Gast Stake, Kenya, received his blessing as an adult in 2012. “I received my patriarchal blessing as part of my preparation to go to the temple. I felt the Spirit so strongly at the time, and each time I read it for counsel, comfort, encouragement, consolation, and guidance, I feel that same strong Spirit and witness that these are the Lord’s words and promises to me.”

I am not certain just what our experience will be on Judgment Day, but I will be very surprised if at some point in that conversation, God does not ask us exactly what Christ asked Peter: “Did you love me?” I think He will want to know if in our very mortal, very inadequate, and sometimes childish grasp of things, did we at least understand one commandment, the first and greatest commandment of them all—“Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind” (Luke 10:27; see also Matthew 22:37–38). And if at such a moment we can stammer out, “Yea, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee,” then He may remind us that the crowning characteristic of love is always loyalty.

The essential nature of witnesses was brought forcibly to my mind some years ago while seeking permission from a man for his wife and children to be baptized. Our missionaries had taught the family of the divinity of Christ, the sacred appearance of God the Father and His Beloved Son to the Prophet Joseph Smith in 1820, and the Restoration of the true Church upon the earth. To each point, the missionaries bore fervent testimony, and the Holy Ghost confirmed to the mother and children that it was all true. They wished to be baptized.
The father, however, was skeptical. He felt no such spiritual confirmation. Long-held beliefs and traditions filled his mind with doubt. I met with him to discuss his misgivings and the desire of his wife and children to be baptized. Though he did not wish to keep them from making their own choices, he was deeply troubled by the conflict he felt between his beliefs and family traditions and this message of the Restoration. As our conversation drew to a close, I bore my witness to him. It included my testimony of what the missionaries had taught. When I was explaining the divine nature of this Church, the Lord’s words from the Doctrine and Covenants came into my mind, and I testified that this is “the only true and living church upon the face of the whole earth” (D&C 1:30).
My friend was startled. This declaration troubled him, and in disbelief he said: “How can you possibly claim such a thing? My church has many more members than yours; my church is much larger and more influential than yours; and furthermore, the history and traditions of my church go back much further than Joseph Smith. How can you possibly claim that yours is the only true church?”
Now for the rest of the story. You recall that my friend asked: “How can you possibly claim such a thing? How can you possibly claim that yours is the only true church?”
The answer came, not from me but through me: “I am not claiming it,” I said. “I am quoting it. Jesus Christ said it. Don’t argue with me. If you wish to take issue, pray and talk with Heavenly Father about it.”
The conversation came to a close, he gave permission for his family members to be baptized, and we parted.
Some weeks later, as I was leaving a stake conference, I saw two men coming toward me, shouldering their way through the crowd. One of them was the same man of whom I have spoken. The first thought that crossed my mind was, “Oh no, here comes an argument!”
As he approached, he extended his hand and asked, “Do you remember me?”
“I certainly do,” I said, “and I want you to know that this is still the only true and living Church.”
Before more could be said, his handshake tightened and he replied: “I know! I have prayed about it as you said. The Lord has told me by the power of His Spirit that it is all true. I was baptized last weekend and ordained a priest. Today I am baptizing my friend here, for he also knows it is true.”

In Nauvoo, one of Carlene’s favorite experiences was attending the plays and pageants the missionaries put on. She dreams of being a performing missionary one day.

There is another gift some of us may want to give that takes starting early. I saw it start once as a bishop. A student sat across from me and talked about mistakes he had made. He talked about how much he wanted the children he might have someday to have a dad who could use his priesthood and to whom they were sealed forever. He said he knew that the price and pain of repentance might be great. And then he said what I will not forget: “Bishop, I am coming back. I will do whatever it takes. I am coming back.” He felt sorrow; he had faith in Christ. And still it took months of painful effort.

But somewhere this Christmas there is a family with a dad who holds the priesthood, once that student, and they have eternal hopes and peace on earth. He will probably give his family all sorts of brightly wrapped gifts, but nothing will matter quite so much as the gift he started a long time ago in my office. He felt then the needs of children he had only dreamed of and he gave early and freely. He sacrificed his pride and sloth and numbed feelings. I am sure it doesn’t seem like a sacrifice now.

My three-month-old baby sister woke up crying from her nap while my mom was in the shower. I sang Primary songs to her, and she smiled at me. I kept singing to her until my mom was able to get her.
Nora R., age 4, Virginia, USA

When President Spencer W. Kimball underwent surgery years ago, he was wheeled from the operating room to the intensive care room. The attendant who pushed the gurney which carried him stumbled and let out an oath using the name of the Lord. President Kimball, who was barely conscious, said weakly, “Please! Please! That is my Lord whose names you revile.”

There was a deathly silence; then the young man whispered with a subdued voice, “I am sorry.” (See The Teachings of Spencer W. Kimball, ed. Edward L. Kimball [1982], 198.)

3 Joseph worried about his family. One of the things he did to take care of them was to plant crops so that they would have food.
4 Joseph also worried about the Church. Wicked people were making trouble for the Saints, especially for the Church leaders. Joseph’s help and advice were needed constantly.
5 Whenever Joseph had to leave home to help the Saints, he felt sad about leaving his family. But he knew that it was necessary. Emma often worried about him.

LDS missionaries who passed through the Snows’ neighborhood recognized Erastus’s burning desire to preach, so on June 28, 1834, Elder John F. Boynton ordained him a teacher and told him to start preaching. “I worked on the farm and preached in the neighborhood on Sundays,” Erastus said, and “many were convinced of the truth and some made willing to obey it.”

Another experience illustrating his love for family occurred at the death of his firstborn, a little daughter, Mercy Josephine, whom he affectionately referred to as “Dodo.” Little Dodo died when she was three. After watching over her night after night, holding her, and encouraging her, Elder Smith grieved when she went sleepless one entire night. The next morning when she said, “I’ll sleep tonight, papa,” the words “shot through my heart.” Shortly thereafter, she died.
He expressed the sorrow of his heart in a letter: “I scarcely dare to trust myself to write, even now my heart aches, and my mind is all chaos; if I should murmur, may God forgive me, my soul has been and is tried with poignant grief, my heart is bruised and wrenched almost asunder. I am desolate, my home seems desolate and almost dreary … my own sweet Dodo is gone! I can scarcely believe it and my heart asks, can it be? I look in vain, I listen, no sound, I wander through the rooms, all are vacant, lonely, desolate, deserted. I look down the garden walk, peer around the house, look here and there for a glimpse of a little golden, sunny head and rosy cheeks, but no, alas, no pattering little footsteps. No beaming little black eyes sparkling with love for papa; no sweet little enquiring voice … no soft dimpled hands clasping me around the neck, no sweet rosy lips returning in childish innocence my fond embrace and kisses, but a vacant little chair. Her little toys are concealed, her clothes put by, and only the one desolate thought forcing its crushing leaden weight upon my heart—she is not here, she is gone! … I am almost wild, and O God only knows how much I loved my girl, and she the light and joy of my heart.”
Forty-six years later, just two years before his own death, President Smith wrote in his journal, “This is the 49th anniversary of the birth of my firstborn child, Mercy Josephine. A most beautiful and intelligent little girl. She died June 6, 1870, nearly three years old, leaving but the memory of the sweetest, happiest, loveliest three years of my whole life up to that time. O how I loved and cherished that little angel of love and light.”

More than monuments and festivals are needed, however, for us to succeed in reinforcing our strength and preserving our unity. In much the same way as Joshua did years ago, the builders of the impressive Washington Monument gathered stones from each of the states of the union and encased them within the interior of that 555-foot obelisk, the tallest masonry building in the world, as a tribute not only to the first president and Father of Our Country, but also to our national unity. Yet, while that monument was in preparation, America entered into the bloodiest, most decisive internal conflict it has ever known. It was, as someone has suggested, a Civil War fought over a pronoun—should the United States be referred to as “they” or “it”? Memorials and flags and festivals notwithstanding, the “union” was at stake, for as President Abraham Lincoln had earlier warned, using the Savior’s own words, “If a kingdom be divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand.
“And if a house be divided against itself, that house cannot stand.” (Mark 3:24–25.)

“Teacher! teacher! Please run now they are coming after you,” the student in a black hijab shouted at me. I couldn’t figure out why she said that. I was serving as a teacher in a village in the northern part of the country as a corper in the compulsory national youth service scheme.
Again, the warning sounded and this time, all the students in the class ran away leaving me behind. As I came out of the classroom, I saw large group of people gruesomely hacking some of my colleagues down. “What in the world is this?” I asked only to discover that I was asking the empty walls and I immediately took to my heels as the irate mobs saw me and started running towards my direction. As I ran and jumped trenches in the bush, I saw charred and dismembered bodies of old and young people.
The mobs chased me for what seemed like ages determined to do their worst. I fell into a hole and passed out. I must have stayed in the hole for many hours as it was now dark when I regained consciousness. Minutes later I heard voices of people searching for me saying, “We must find him and kill him! He is somewhere around here! He is an infidel, a Christian!” I was so afraid and started praying. As I prayed, I felt an overwhelming assuring power come over as if to say, “Be still, I am with you always.” I got up and climbed out of the hole and started saying these words as I walked aimlessly “though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4) then the sound of a gunshot and flickers of torch lights interrupted me.
Thank God! The soldiers came to my rescue. Days later as we went to corper’s lodge to pick our belongings, all had been burnt except my Book of Mormon.

“Daddy, wherever did you find him?” cried Becky as she came up the path from the school bus.
On the lawn in front of her dad was a beautiful Canada goose, his one good wing flailing around while the other dragged on the ground.
“I found him by the pond,” replied Dad, “but he’s badly wounded.”
Becky’s mother came hurrying from the house to see the injured honker.
“He looks more dead than alive!” she exclaimed. “And he’s so handsome,” she added as she knelt and stroked the battered bird.
Becky’s heart went out to the poor wild creature. His lean and elegant body was covered with black, gray, and white feathers that shimmered in the sunlight. But his once proud strut was hampered by the dragging wing.
“Look how lopsided he walks,” said Mother sympathetically. “Shall we feed him some chicken mash?”
Dad nodded his head as he picked up the big, wounded goose.
“Becky, get some chicken feed,” directed Mother. “Your dad can carry him to the woodshed.”
A little later Becky watched as the honker ate hungrily. “Can he be mine?” she asked. “I’ll take care of him.”
“I guess so,” replied her dad. “But be sure to see that he has food and water every day.”
“I’m going to call him Sir Richard,” declared Becky, “because he’s so dignified and brave looking.”
“Sir Richard, the lopsided?” teased her dad.
“He is very handsome and he must be courageous too,” defended her mother. “I think Sir Richard is a good name for him.”
Becky often sat by the wild gander as he ate, and every day he seemed to grow a little stronger. In about six weeks Sir Richard was strong enough to walk, but he still looked and walked a little lopsided.
He followed Becky about, frequently drawing his long neck against her overalls to show his affection for her. Then he’d shove his bill into her hand, pretending to bite.
Sir Richard seemed to like the farmyard animals. The baby chicks used him for shade from the sun, and he acted as a mother to the baby kittens when their own mother wasn’t around.
The other barnyard geese trailed after the handsome stranger, trying to get him to notice them. How they preened and fluttered their feathers before him! But Sir Richard ignored all their feminine ways, and if they came too near, he’d give them a whack with his bill.
Becky grew to love her wild friend, though he would often get in her way as she did her chores. She would sometimes sit outside with the gander’s beautiful neck stretched across her legs and stroke his soft feathered body.
One day Sir Richard was nowhere to be seen. Becky called and called, then headed toward the pond. Perhaps he has gone to the pond to swim, she thought, so her eyes opened wide with surprise when Sir Richard suddenly flew into the barnyard and landed with a thump at her feet. His wing appeared to be completely healed.
The goose seemed almost as surprised as Becky, and shook his head in astonishment at what he had done. He looked at the wounded wing and gabbled excitedly. Then he raised both wings and danced about the barnyard. Running back to Becky, he pulled at her overalls and thrust his bill into her hand.
That evening at supper Becky told Mother and Dad about Sir Richard. They looked at each other and then at Becky.
“Becky, dear,” said her mother, “now that summer is nearly over and Sir Richard’s wing is healed, he’ll want his freedom.”
“That’s right,” Dad agreed. “Instinctively, now that he’s well, Sir Richard will want to travel freely with his own kind. It’s all part of Heavenly Father’s plan.”
Becky’s eyes went quickly from her mother to her father and she read in their expressions the awful truth.
When school started, she hurried home each day to see if Sir Richard were still at the farm.
“Do people ever clip the wings of geese to keep them from flying?” she asked Dad hopefully one night.
“Sometimes they do,” he replied, aware of the sadness in Becky’s voice.
Each day she scanned the sky. Then one crisp fall Saturday the first flight of wild geese flew south over the farm. When Sir Richard heard them his regal body trembled, and Becky’s heartbeat doubled. A lump seemed to catch in her throat, and a loneliness began to fill her heart.
She looked at Sir Richard and then at the sky, from which came the clear, shrill call of his wild friends. A moment later Sir Richard took a running start and rose into the air, answering the natural urge that filled his untamed heart. Becky watched until he was only a speck in the sky.
Her solitary, drooping figure made a lonely picture as she walked toward the house. But soon Becky’s face broke into a smile when she remembered with pride how her once-crippled friend had risen so grandly skyward. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she looked up at the heavens where he had disappeared.
“Good-bye, Sir Richard,” she whispered. “Good-bye.”

Our family lived in Hamburg, Germany, during World War I when food was rationed. City-dwellers often tried to purchase food from farmers, who sometimes had a little surplus. When I was fourteen years old, my mother gave me money for a railroad ticket and sent me to the country to try to buy food.
After a two-hour train ride, I arrived at a village where I began walking door to door. Though I visited more than forty houses, no one would sell me anything.
I was determined not to return home empty-handed and decided to walk the 4.5 kilometers to the next village where the train did not go. After walking about forty-five minutes and visiting all the houses along the way, I found a farmer who sold me forty-five kilos of potatoes. I could not believe my luck! The most I had hoped for was some butter or a few kilos of bacon.
The farmer lifted the sack of potatoes crosswise onto my shoulders, and I started back the way I had come. Before long, I realized the difficulty of my task—the potatoes weighed at least as much as I did. If I dropped my load onto the roadside and rested, I feared that I might not be able to lift it back onto my shoulders.
In the midst of this dilemma, I recalled my mother, who had taught me the scriptures and the power of prayer. I remembered an episode in the Book of Mormon where the Nephites, who were in bondage to the Lamanites, asked the Lord to lighten their burdens. The Lord had answered their prayers, and it occurred to me that the Lord might also lighten the weight of my burden. (See Mosiah 24:15.)
I began to pray. Instantly, I felt as if the load had been taken off my shoulders. I was able to walk with ease all of the way to the train station without resting.
At the station, another miracle occurred. Village police had the authority to confiscate any food found on passengers. Many people tried to hide their food, but there was no way I could hide the forty-five kilo sack of potatoes. However, as I boarded the train, nothing was said and I was allowed to take the potatoes home to my mother.
My search for food brought my family the physical nourishment we needed during a difficult time and developed in me an unshakable testimony that the Lord hears and answers prayers.

As a teenager I attended family home evening reluctantly. I thought I had better things to do.
One Monday night, after a few difficult FHEs, my mother wiped off the kitchen table and placed a small cherry pie in front of each of us. I eagerly looked around for forks—but there were none! Mom explained that we were having a pie-eating contest, but we could not use utensils or our hands. The winner got bragging rights.
We ate as fast as we could. Soon we had cherry pie covering the table, all over our faces, and even in our hair. I don’t remember who won, but I do remember laughing uncontrollably and truly enjoying my family. I didn’t realize it fully that night, but now I appreciate how nice it was to have a safe and loving place to call home and to have people who watched out for me.
I am sure we had a song and a lesson that night, and that it took my mother a lot of time to prepare and clean up. But I am grateful for an activity that taught a message about the importance of families that I needed—then and ever since.
Heather Mockler Teuscher, California, USA