Gospel Story Finder

Throughout my youth, my Church leaders watched out for me. Because my mother died when I was 15 years old and my father had a serious illness, I needed to work at night to earn money and go to high school during the day. I wanted to serve a full-time mission, but I didn’t know how I could save enough money for it. Then the elders quorum president of my ward told me that the quorum would help support me on my mission. I was happy and grateful that they would help me be a missionary. With their help, I served a mission in Brazil. Years later, my wife and children came with me to Brazil while I served as mission president.

When she told me that they needed volunteers, I knew I could help by using social media to get the message out to as many Church members as fast as possible.

I contacted some of the bishops and Relief Society presidents of the Chorley England Stake and by Monday morning they were headed to various designated distribution hubs for the Holiday Hunger East Lancashire initiative.

These wonderful friends and members of the Church showed up on multiple occasions, willing to serve with no questions asked, to collect bags full of meals that had been prepared by established local food businesses.

It was inspiring to see willing volunteers, from the Church and community, queuing out of the doors. Some would pick up the lunches, go to more than ten addresses, and then come back asking if they could do more.

Some volunteers even helped in the kitchen preparing those meals. As the professionals worked tirelessly cooking endless amounts of pasta, sausages, sauces, vegetables and so much more, the volunteers got it all packed in individual takeaway tubs; one meal for each child for each day of the half-term week.

On more than one occasion, I was able to help with giving drop-off location details to the deliverers, and sometimes deliver lunches myself.

The stories we heard of grateful mothers, fathers, and children kept us all motivated when things got hectic, when we became weary with the load, and felt we couldn’t get the food out on time.

What brought us all together was an unfortunate turn of events, but it united us in our determination to feed the 3,000 signed-up children who would otherwise have gone hungry that week. I’ve never been a part of an event on such a large scale. It was overwhelming at times. Some days I would be up and out the door by 7:30 am and not return until 8 pm. As a stay-at-home mum, it was quite a change of pace! But I know that the Lord required my help for that one week. He guided me to bump into the friend that got me involved. By no means can I take any of the credit, but I know that I was a tool in the Lord’s hands. It was my purpose to help gather those volunteers so that essential work could get done—to feed His children.

We had a great season, even though we lost more games than we won. At the end of the season, the whole team was invited to a team member’s birthday party. They were going to have a barbecue and go swimming. It was going to be the last time I would see the kids on my baseball team, because we weren’t in the same grades and went to different schools. I was really excited about going until I realized that it was on a Sunday.
My parents didn’t think a birthday party was an appropriate activity for Sunday, but they told me I was old enough to make my own choice. I really, really wanted to go. The party was three weeks away. I prayed and I prayed about it. I decided to go to the party, even though I didn’t feel completely right about it.
A few days later I was reading the Book of Mormon and came across 2 Nephi 28:8, which says, “Eat, drink, and be merry; nevertheless, fear God—he will justify in committing a little sin.” [2 Ne. 28:8] I excitedly told Mom that I found my answer—it was OK for me to go to the party!
She told me to reread the verse and include the verses that came before and after it. After I read a few more verses, I realized that the scriptures were telling us that saying it is OK to commit a little sin is false and foolish doctrine. No amount of sin is OK. I knew then what I should do, but I still hadn’t made my decision.
I continued to pray about it for the next week. Finally I decided that I shouldn’t go. I felt really good about my decision. My mom called my friend’s mom and told her I wouldn’t be going to the party. On the day of the party, while on the way home from church, we dropped off a present to my friend and said hi to everyone and then went home.
I’m glad I did what I felt Jesus Christ would want me to do, and I’m glad I chose the right.

Now, some of you may not have a paper waiting for you. It may be a textbook with a math problem hidden in it. Let me tell you about a day in your future. You’ll have a teenage son or daughter who’ll say, “I hate school.” After some careful listening, you’ll find it is not school or even mathematics he or she hates—it’s the feeling of failure.

You’ll correctly discern those feelings, and you’ll be touched; you’ll want to freely give. So you’ll open the text and say, “Let’s look at one of the problems together.” Think of the shock you will feel when you see that the same rowboat is still going downstream in two hours and back in five hours, and the questions are still how fast the current is and how far the boat traveled. You might think, “Well, I’ll make my children feel better by showing them that I can’t do math either.” Let me give you some advice: they will see that as a poor gift.

Jensen: I guess going on a mission is something you always have in the back of your mind, but I hadn’t made the commitment as early as I should have. Then when I started having a lot of success in sports, I wondered if I couldn’t motivate people with that example instead. I remember sitting down with Coach (LaVell) Edwards. The things he said had a great influence. He said that if I was thinking about a mission I should go and that he would support my decision. I remember talking to my dad and my old high school coach and some of those people that had been an influence on me. I decided that a mission would really help me in a lot of ways.

My dad is the captain of a tugboat.
He wears a uniform and a hat.
Sometimes he takes me with him on his tugboat.
We see many kinds of boats in the harbor—freighters … carriers … submarines … ships.
But my favorite boat is my dad’s tugboat.
It is a very important boat. It pulls big ships out of the harbor.
It pulls big ships into the harbor, and guides them safely to the pier to land.
When I grow up, I want to be the captain of a tugboat, just like my dad!

It was the girls themselves who decided that Mormons ought to be involved in doing something for people in underdeveloped lands. So after discussing it with their MIA teacher, the girls of San Jose (California) Ward wrote to a nonprofit foundation that specializes in collecting medical discards, packaging them, and sending them all over the world. The girls decided to make Johnny coats (hospital gowns) and torn-sheet bandages, and to gather soap to send to those in need. They asked two motels in their area to save soap for them. One motel also volunteered to save old sheets from which the girls could make bandages. The first load of soap from one motel weighed 500 pounds. Then one Saturday nineteen girls got together and knitted, made bandages, and boxed soap. Their own ward Relief Society donated dozens of men’s shirts for Johnny coats. Now they want to learn how to make leper bandages …

We gathered in the chapel, all clothed in white. One by one we went into the font and were baptized by Brother Petersen. I remember coming out of the water feeling pure, clean, renewed.
We gathered again in the chapel and our family sang “The Love of God,” and Sister Runnels sang “Where Love Is.” Never before has music so touched my heart.
We were confirmed by Brother Brown, and this began our life in the Church.

When I was young, my father had a store where he sold and repaired clocks and watches. Our family home was located in the back of the store, so I grew up with the sounds of clocks and watches.
At the end of each day, my father would take some of the wall clocks he had worked on during the day and hang them inside our home on the walls near our bedrooms. I didn’t understand why he did this and why we had to sleep with all that noise. But with time, the sound of different clocks became a familiar part of otherwise quiet nights.
A couple of years later, I began working with my father in the store, learning from him how to repair watches. One morning he said something that opened my mind and helped me understand why he hung the wall clocks outside our bedrooms instead of keeping them inside the store.
“Could you bring me the wall clock that was near your bedroom last night?” he asked. “I was listening to the sound of it during the night, and I realized it is not working right. I need to look at it again.”
That was it! In the silence of the night, he had listened to the sound of the clock in the same way a doctor listens to the sound of the heart of a patient. In the process of repairing various types of clocks and watches over a lifetime, he had trained his ears to determine by a clock’s sound whether it was working perfectly or not.
After that experience, I began to pay attention to the sound of the clocks during the night, just as my father did. By doing so, I learned to recognize whether a clock was working correctly or whether it needed adjustment.
From my father, I learned the lesson of listening in a practical way—working with watches and clocks. Today I treasure the lesson he taught me. The Holy Ghost, in fact, still brings that lesson to my mind and heart, and He gives me a promise of good things to come.
That experience has helped me search for quiet moments when I can listen for the voice of the Spirit. Listening closely to the Holy Ghost helps me determine whether I am walking the correct path or whether I need to change my course so that I can be in tune with Heavenly Father’s desires.

On Sacrifices to Keep the Sabbath
Sometimes we worked until midnight on Saturday to keep from breaking the Sabbath. We went to church the next day, often without much sleep. Once we came home from church, and a cow had gotten caught in the pasture fence and died. There were times when we had millions of yen worth of damage to our cut hay because it had lain in the rain on the Sabbath. We knew accidents didn’t happen because it was Sunday. If you worry about that kind of thing, you would never be able to keep the Sabbath. Accidents can happen anytime.

I live in Douala (Cameroon) and I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I joined the Church when I was 12 years old and back then I lived with my mother, Kameni Lauris, and my little sister, Awasiri Grâce. We used to attend a Pentecostal church which was very far from our home. The cost of getting there made it very difficult for us to attend.
My mother was someone who loved the Lord dearly. Whenever it was not possible for all of us to attend together, she would ask me to go with my little sister to another church near our home. As we went out on Sundays, I could navigate towards the nearby church while calculating the time it would take my mother to leave the house! Then I would go back home without attending the nearby church. At that time, I did not like religion at all because I could not understand much about it.
A friend to my mother, who looked after my little sister when my mother went to work, introduced us to Elder Holland and Elder Rambeleson. These two missionaries came to visit us at home. I still remember the first time I attended a sacrament meeting and saw young men like me participating in passing the sacrament. Afterwards, I attended the Primary and saw how much fun the kids were having. I felt a sense of belonging and knew I would never miss out on a Sunday.
When I got baptized, I immediately wanted to leave the Primary to go to Young Men and be able to begin my priesthood service. I started to really know my Heavenly Father and my identity. I helped clean the building on Saturdays, and came very early on Sundays, sometimes even before the building was open. As I grew older, my desire to serve a full-time mission grew likewise. Through seminary and institute, I was able to prepare for my mission and had the privilege to serve in the DRC Kinshasa West Mission from 2021 to 2023. I’m grateful for the restored gospel and for the joy it has brought to me and to my family.
I know that Christ lives, and that He is sitting down on the right hand of our Heavenly Father, that He knows and loves us all. I know that the Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ. I know that we are led by a living prophet who receives revelations from God.

Acts of selfless service are performed daily by countless members of the Church. There are many which are freely given, with no fanfare or boasting, but rather through quiet love and tender care. Let me share with you the example of one who made such a simple yet profound choice to serve.

A few years ago, Sister Monson and I were in the city of Toronto, where we once lived when I was the mission president. Olive Davies, the wife of the first stake president in Toronto, was gravely ill and preparing to pass from this life. Her illness required her to leave her cherished home and enter a hospital which could provide the care she needed. Her only child lived with her own family far away in the West.

I attempted to comfort Sister Davies, but she had present with her the comfort she longed to have. A stalwart grandson sat silently next to his grandmother. I learned he had spent most of the summer away from his university studies, that he might serve his grandmother’s needs. I said to him, “Shawn, you will never regret your decision. Your grandmother feels you are heaven-sent, an answer to her prayers.”

He replied, “I chose to come because I love her and know this is what my Heavenly Father would have me do.”

Tears were near the surface. Grandmother told us how she enjoyed being helped by her grandson and introducing him to each employee and every patient in the hospital. Hand in hand, they walked the halls, and during the night he was close by.

Olive Davies has passed on to her reward, there to meet her faithful husband and together continue an eternal journey. In a grandson’s heart there will ever remain those words, “Choose the right when a choice is placed before you. In the right the Holy Spirit guides.”

Let’s hurry along to Redwood Road. There is a much larger home here where many widows reside. Most are seated in the well-lighted living room. But in her bedroom, alone, is one on whom I must call. She hasn’t spoken a word since a devastating stroke some years ago. But then, who knows what she hears?—so I speak of good times together. There isn’t a flicker of recognition, not a word spoken. In fact, an attendant asks if I am aware that this patient hasn’t uttered a word for years. It made no difference. Not only had I enjoyed my one-sided conversation with her—I had communed with God.

Since 1964, when missionaries first arrived in Bolivia, the Church has been helping Bolivian people make the transition from old ways to new. Carmen and Luis Molina were among the first to join the Church in Bolivia. “Two missionaries stopped at my door and invited me to Relief Society, which was held in a home,” explains Sister Molina. “I felt happy at the meeting. I went home and told my husband about it.” Luis was cautious at first, but the family joined the Church in 1965, and he became the first man to be ordained an elder in Bolivia.

“One of my earliest memories is of our family preparing for church,” recalls their son Rolando Molina, who today serves as president of the El Alto Bolivia Satélite Stake. “I loved Saturdays. We ironed; we prepared. And on Sunday we went to church. We walked slowly so all the children could keep up. It took an hour each way. I have fond memories of those walks together.”

After a walk along a dirt road to the bus stop, followed by a long bus ride, followed by a subway ride, I was happy to get on the streetcar. It was my first Sunday morning in Vienna, Austria, where I was staying for the summer, and I was looking forward to going to church. I felt a sense of relief when I noticed a sign on a small building with the words: “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Visitors welcome.” I clutched both my English and German scriptures tightly as I entered the building. I followed the sound of hymns to the chapel and sat at the end of a bench.
After the hymn, an opening prayer was given, but I didn’t understand much of it. Then the man I assumed was the bishop addressed the congregation. Few of his words made any sense to me. Suddenly I felt conspicuous as I sat alone. I felt lost and hopeless.
I blinked back tears. Then, one of the men got on his knees and began to bless the sacrament. The words were in German, but I knew what was being said, and the message was clear and powerful. As I listened to the promise that we can “always have His Spirit,” I was filled with peace.
As I sat in a small chapel surrounded by people, a city, and a language that were all foreign to me, I savored the familiarity of the sacrament. I felt a sense of belonging. I knew that the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and the Church unite us, and the comfort and blessings of the gospel are available to all, no matter where we may be.

As I flipped through the pages of a dictionary, I decided to look up a word that means a lot to me—family. As I read the definition, I thought how different it was from my definition. The dictionary read, “two parents and all their children living in the same house.” Well, all my 11 brothers and sisters don’t live in one house, and we are not from the same parents. But we’re a family, a very special family.
I knew why we gathered that night. I could hardly make myself come to believe it, but I knew. So did everyone else. Looking at my father, I could tell he was trying hard to control himself in front of us. But in his eyes, he couldn’t hide the pain.
We were brought together that night for the strength we knew we would receive through prayer. We all knelt, my grandparents, my father, and five of my brothers and sisters. Each of us held another’s trembling hand as we called upon the Spirit to help and guide us in whatever our Father in Heaven had planned. For a moment, it felt like everything was all right. We were a family, and my mother seemed to be there, smiling and looking over us so proud and happy. It seemed like our little circle was hurled into space where nothing could enter, not even the ugly disease that was slowly taking our mother away from us.
After the prayer we all knew the Spirit was there, even though my mother wasn’t. Every few seconds you could hear a little sob, but nobody looked into anyone’s eyes for fear of not being able to hold in all the emotion. My father broke the semisilence with tears in his eyes when he said, “Everything’s going to be all right.”
A week later my mother died. How would it be in a motherless home, without the encouraging look of a proud mother to push us along when times got rough? I thought mothers were always supposed to be there. Who was going to teach me all the things mothers are supposed to teach their daughters? Who was I going to have those special talks with? Why did it have to be my mother?
My father knew it was up to him. It must have been like a building falling on him to have all the responsibility of raising the family. After losing the woman he loved so dearly, he had to be strong to set the example for his family. He did. I remember him standing there and asking us if we understood about paradise and heaven. We all hesitated, as if a nod of approval to his question was an approval for her to die, but then with great effort he told us she was gone. My father’s a big man, but he was even bigger then, when I knew that inside his heart was broken and he was full of loneliness.
For about a year I played the role of the mother of the house. I loved my family, and I wanted to take care of them, but I sometimes wondered, “Why do I have to stay home and watch the little kids, fix supper, and do the laundry?” I was only in junior high school. In those moments when I would start to cry, I’d see my father. He tried so hard to make our home happy. All day he would work hard and then come home and listen to our problems and our complaints and smile and say he loved us. I never once heard him complain or break down in front of us. He knew the whole family depended on him. If he broke down, the family would also. But if he were strong, the family would follow.
I remember those days and all the pain and testing we went through. Looking at pictures that were taken then, I can still see the pain when I look into the eyes of those in the photographs.
The bond of trust that grew between my father and me was so strong that when my father asked me what I would think if he remarried, I was able to answer truthfully, “Do what you think is right.” Some of my older brothers and sisters didn’t agree with me, but I trusted him to do the right thing.
As the time grew closer, I grew excited to meet the woman my father loved and wanted to marry. But as I walked into the room, I saw a tall, slim, dark-haired woman who wasn’t my mother kissing my father. For a split second a door within me burst open, spilling all the hurt, jealousy, and anger that I felt for this woman. Then just as quickly, it closed without ever changing the smile on my face. That door was destroyed then, never to be opened again.
Many of our relatives and friends loved my mother and wouldn’t accept anyone else. They kept telling my father that he was wrong and was making a big mistake. But he wouldn’t listen, and neither would I. All I knew was that I had to trust my father. When I saw my two youngest sisters cuddled up to this woman while she sang them little songs she made up, I knew it was right. She was to be our new mother, and we all needed her, especially those two. As we grew to know her, we all eventually grew to love her.
My new mother left behind a big, beautiful house when she packed up her four children and moved into our little green house, a home in which she knew she wasn’t totally accepted. I admired how strong she was to be able to make a move like that, but I knew Heavenly Father, and maybe even my mother, helped her.
From then on it was more a matter of time. Slowly, with all of us pulling, we became closer, a family again. Together my father and new mother brought two more spirits into the world and into our family, making a grand total of 12 children. If nothing else made us a family, it was those two little spirits. Their presence created an unbreakable bond between two families that needed each other.
We were a family by our own special definition.

Speaking many years ago in general conference, I told of a phrase that entered my mind as I wondered if I was prepared to serve a mission. The phrase was “You don’t know everything, but you know enough!” A young woman sitting in general conference that day told me that she was praying over a proposal for marriage, wondering how well she knew the young man. When I spoke the words “You don’t know everything, but you know enough,” the Spirit confirmed to her that she did know him well enough. They have been happily married for many years.

Then, the summer before his senior season, the time suddenly came for Eli to make a decision. That summer USA Today published an article that ranked the top professional prospects among college football players. To his surprise, Eli found his name on the list. It dawned on him how much money he could be making playing football the next year, and he knew he had to make a decision.
It was not an easy one. Eli knew that something he had often dreamed of since elementary school was within reach. He considered all the things that he could do with the money he would make as a professional football player: he could put his children through school and pay for their missions; he could have a retirement fund; he could go on as many missions with his wife as he wanted; he could teach and coach and not have any financial worries. He would be set.
On one hand there were good people who were active in the Church and who did a lot of good for the Church who played professional sports on Sunday. On the other hand, Eli had seen some very powerful examples of people who had refused to break the Sabbath.
One was Erroll Bennett, one of the top soccer players in Tahiti, whom Eli read about one day on his mission. When Brother Bennett joined the Church, he decided to withdraw from his team because he chose not to play on the Sabbath. When Eli read the story and saw how dedicated Brother Bennett was to the gospel, he was impressed. He says, “I knew I wanted to be a man like that, with that kind of commitment and dedication to what I knew was right.”
Eli discussed his choices with the people most important to him. His mother always reminded him of the commandment to keep the Sabbath day holy. His father, who had worked hard trying to support his family, told him to consider the decision carefully, reminding Eli how the money would help him support his wife and children. His wife, Jennifer, had received a paper in school full of quotations from leaders of the Church about the Sabbath day. Together they studied those and talked about the decision, but Jennifer and Eli’s parents all said that the decision was his and they would support him however he decided.
Eli talked to many other people. Some told him to play; some said maybe he shouldn’t. But Eli knew that talking to others wouldn’t make the decision for him. “When you’re considering giving up hundreds of thousands or millions of dollars,” he says, “it’s probably not something you’re going to do just because you’ve talked to someone.”
He knew that he would have to make the decision himself after praying to his Heavenly Father. Eli recalls: “It occurred to me to pray and fast about it because of what my parents taught me. … During the rest of the summer and through the next football season, all my scripture study and all my prayers and everything were focused on what the best decision would be. This lasted about six months. I didn’t make the final decision until the season was over at the end of December.”
That was an intense six months. Eli says: “I don’t think in my life other than sometimes on my mission I ever had the scriptures come to life for me as they did during that period of time. … I saw things I had never seen or understood before.”
One day, for example, he was reading in the Book of Mormon about Alma counseling his son Helaman. Alma urges his son: “O remember, remember, my son Helaman, how strict are the commandments of God. And he said: If ye will keep my commandments ye shall prosper in the land—but if ye keep not his commandments ye shall be cut off from his presence. … Therefore I command you, my son Helaman, that ye be diligent … in keeping the commandments of God as they are written” (Alma 37:13, 20).
The phrase “as they are written” particularly struck Eli. He knew the key to being in the Lord’s presence and to prospering was to keep the commandments “as they are written”—with exactness. Eli understood that to have financial security and other blessings for his family, “it was a more sure thing to keep the commandments and trust in the Lord than to have a million dollars.”
As the months progressed toward the end of the season, Eli became more sure of what he had to do. “I read my scriptures, and time after time I would see more and more and more reasons that I felt in my heart that I needed to observe the Sabbath more than I needed to play football,” Eli says.
When he finally made the decision, it was easy. He laughs now about all the attention he received: “I had been on the offensive line my whole career, and it’s not like a lineman gets a lot of recognition. I got so much more recognition for making that decision than I ever got for playing football. People wrote me, telling me what they thought about the decision I had made, good or bad. I never got so much mail in my life.”
Some people asked whether he had considered all the factors, and some asked if he had thought of all the money he could make. Eli laughs, “One of the most interesting things to me was that people would say, Haven’t you thought of this and this, when I had been thinking about it for ten years and had considered those things maybe a million and a half times.” The letters were entertaining, but they didn’t change his mind or cause him to reconsider. He had been very careful in making his decision, and once he made it he was firm.
Now Eli is doing what he has wanted to do for a long time—he is teaching and coaching in a local high school. Teachers aren’t famous for their high salaries, and sometimes the money is a little short. But Eli smiles about it: “The paychecks now, in spite of being low, are more than we were making when we were students. We’re happy to have more than we had before. Occasionally I think we could have a brand-new car or a nice house, but I have never had any serious doubts about the decision.”
He gathers his family around the room as he talks about the decision that has made such a difference in their lives. His daughter Hannah plays on the floor while his wife, Jennifer, holds the baby, Sarah. They don’t have the new house, car, and retirement fund, but they’re happy. Eli has come a long way from the boy who sometimes sneaked in to watch football on Sundays. Now he is a father who, like his own father and like Alma long ago, is determined to teach his children the commandments “as they are written” and to help them be covenant people of the Lord.

Age 16. From Santa Ana, Argentina. Likes reading, listening to music, and writing poetry.
A little while ago, I started visiting my local library and noticed that it wasn’t in great condition. The librarian is an older woman, and people don’t always take great care of the books they check out.
I am a Young Women class president in my branch, and some of the young women and I went to the library on a Saturday to organize one of the bookshelves. We put books people hadn’t checked out in a while in boxes to be donated. Then we organized the rest of the books alphabetically.
The librarian was very grateful for our help. She even brought us yummy pastries called criollitos. I think our service helped improve her perception of the Church.
There are still a lot of other shelves to organize, so I decided to submit my project to JustServe. Now people in my city can find the project on JustServe and volunteer to help.
The scriptures say that Jesus Christ went about doing good (see Acts 10:38). Maybe my project didn’t have a huge impact on the world, but for the librarian and people who come to the library, it made a difference.
“For the librarian and people who come to the library, it made a difference.”

While on an assignment in Scandinavia some years ago, President Monson learned of a 26-year-old disabled young man named John Helander. John was at a youth conference in Kungsbacka, Sweden, and determined to take part in a 1,500-meter race. He had no chance to win and little chance to finish. But he lined up with the entrants and began.
From the sound of the starter’s gun it was obvious John was in difficulty. The other runners bolted past him even as he seemed fixed at the starting line. He was only partway into his first lap when all of the other participants passed him toward the completion of their second lap. And so the race went, with a winner being announced while John was scarcely halfway through the measured distance.
“Perhaps everyone else thought when the race was over,” says President Monson, “that John would quietly step from the track and disappear. But clearly John Helander didn’t think that.” He just kept running. His speed was minimal. His fatigue was immense. But his whole-souled determination was obvious even to the most cynical of spectators. None stirred from their seats. It was obvious that the race—the race—was still being run.
By the time John Helander completed his 1,500 meters, seemingly ages after the other contestants had crossed the finish line, the entire stadium was in pandemonium. The roar of the crowd was deafening. The stumbling, staggering, exhausted but victorious John Helander had broken the tape, newly stretched for this champion. Determination, courage, devotion, faith—call it what you will—had carried the day.