Gospel Story Finder

When Sister Staheli and I left Utah, en route to the University of Illinois with everything we owned contained in our little car, we were excited about embarking upon a new adventure. We had tried to be diligent in keeping the covenants we had made in the temple as a part of our marriage of about one year.

As we became fully engaged in our new life as a happily married but financially struggling couple, we lost focus on one important—in fact, essential—commandment of the gospel. As we approached the end of the year and tithing settlement, we had not only slipped on paying our tithing but were literally without food money for the last week of the year.

As we sheepishly and humbly approached our branch president at tithing settlement, he taught us an important lesson in financial management. More important, he gave us a phenomenal promise.

He promised that if we would make up the tithing owed to the Lord and then faithfully pay it each month before we addressed our other needs and wants, the Lord would bless us as promised. In fact, he promised us that as future faithful tithe payers we would have an increase in income each year thereafter. That came true—and stayed so, until my call as a Seventy. The Lord truly did open the windows of heaven and pour out blessings to us.

My wife and I had been raised by faithful tithe-paying parents. We had been full-tithe payers throughout our youthful years. Yet this came as a poignant lesson of how becoming casual on important principles can cause one to lose focus on what is really essential to the Lord.

by Hazel Loyd
One hundred and fifty young men and women from the Friendswood Texas Stake made one last annual trip to the Mesa Temple. The stake had been assigned to that temple district. In the future, they will make the trip to the Dallas Temple.
All who participated returned buoyed up by their experiences in the temple. They were able to perform over 8,000 baptisms. During a testimony meeting in the temple chapel, many were moved to bear their testimonies for the first time before their friends. As a result, some of the planned recreational activities were canceled in favor of spending more time in the temple.

Michael was going to Suzanne’s and Sara’s baptisms with Sister Ferguson. She always invited her Primary class to the baptisms of their classmates. Michael was glad that his family wasn’t going. Suzanne and Sara would be baptized by their fathers, and his family there would remind him that his father would not be baptizing him.
He was going to be eight soon, but he felt more worried than excited about his birthday. Sometimes that made him angry. Wasn’t a birthday supposed to be all fun? The ride to church was nice because Sister Ferguson didn’t mention his birthday. She talked about school and friends, his bike, and his cat.
Lots of people were at the baptism. Some were from the ward; others seemed to be relatives of Suzanne or Sara. Among those he recognized were Primary leaders, home teachers, bishopric members, friends, and even the missionaries with some investigators.
It is nice they are all here, he thought. I wonder if they came just because it is partof their job. It seemed to Michael that the parents cared the most about a kid’s baptism. And if one or both of your parents didn’t care, you were all alone.
Michael listened to a sister talk about baptism. She said that Suzanne and Sara were making promises to Heavenly Father and that Heavenly Father was making promises to them. The sister said that it was comforting to have a Father who always kept His promises. That made Michael feel a little better, but he was still sad and worried.
He got up close to the font to watch the baptisms. Afterward, he watched Sara and then Suzanne receive the gift of the Holy Ghost and wondered if Suzanne and Sara liked having all those hands on their heads. Did they know all those men?
After the service, Sister Ferguson approached him. “Did you like being at the baptism?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Are you thinking about your own baptism?” she asked him gently.
“Yes.”
“Why are you looking so worried?”
Michael stared at the floor. “Because I don’t have anyone to baptize me.”
Sister Ferguson gave Michael a hug and led him away. They walked over to a quiet place away from the others. “Do you remember in the baptism prayer hearing the words ‘Having been commissioned of Jesus Christ’?” she asked.
Michael thought a moment. “I think so.”
Sister Ferguson explained, “Being commissioned of Jesus Christ means acting for Him, using His power to do His will. Whoever baptizes must have His power, which is the priesthood. It doesn’t matter who actually puts you down into the waters of baptism, because that person is acting for Jesus Christ, not for himself.
“We are all brothers and sisters, children of Heavenly Father. We’re family. All the people at this baptism are here because they are happy to see Suzanne and Sara following the Savior’s commandment to be baptized and making a promise to follow Him. All the men who helped confirm them want to share the love and happiness they feel as members of Christ’s church. Any one of them would be honored to be a representative of Jesus Christ and baptize you. The important thing is for you to obey the commandment to be baptized and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.”
Michael understood, but tears came to his eyes, anyway. “But I want my dad to baptize me.”
“I know,” Sister Ferguson said. “I wish he could too. All I can do is tell you how much I love you and how much more Heavenly Father loves you. And you won’t be the only one who didn’t get baptized by his father. The Savior Himself was baptized by John the Baptist. New members are often baptized by missionaries. Sometimes older brothers baptize their younger brothers or sisters. You can ask any worthy priesthood holder who has been ordained a priest or received the Melchizedek Priesthood. Why don’t you talk to your mother about it when you get home?”
Michael nodded. Then he went to get a drink and talk to his friends. It felt good to know that so many people really did care.

He ministered in power to relieve the considerable suffering experienced by the Saints. On the “day of God’s power,” July 22, 1839, Joseph lay stricken with a vile disease, as were many of the Saints. Neighbor cared for neighbor, parents for children, and children for parents. There were so many ill that the caregivers were overwhelmed and exhausted. Moved upon by the Spirit, Joseph rose from his sick bed and went across the river to Montrose, Iowa. Dozens were immediately healed on that day. He states in his journal, “Many of the sick were this day raised up by the power of God.”[40]

One day on the school bus, Rachel Chase and Lauren Smith, both in the Acworth Ward seminary, were talking about what a good seminary lesson they had that day. Curtis Clinch repeated something his pastor had told him about the Latter-day Saints being one of the fastest growing religions.
Rachel agreed and said, “It kind of makes you think, doesn’t it, Curtis?”
He answered, “Yeah, it kind of does.”
Rachel asked, “Do you want to come to seminary with us?” Instead of Curtis answering, Heidi Hetzer, another friend who had been listening to their conversation, surprised them by saying, “Oh, I do.” Rachel arranged to pick up both Curtis and Heidi, and they have been going ever since—especially after their baptisms a couple of months later.

Curtis had a similar experience, although he thought Rachel was kidding when she invited him to seminary. “She asked me again and came and picked me up. I really liked it. The lessons are powerful and very detailed. Everyone is really welcoming. I didn’t mind waking up early.”
Curtis’s mother didn’t think he would keep it up. When he continued to get up by himself, she came and checked out seminary. “She said it was good and supported me.”

Long before I joined the Church, I was a critic of it. I gathered false information about the Church and criticized my friends who were members.
Despite my ignorance, I was soon converted to Christ through missionary lessons, which transformed me to the point where I desperately wanted to serve a full-time mission.
To strengthen my testimony, I participated in missionary lessons almost all the time, and every moment I spent at a lesson with the missionaries made me more eager to proclaim the restored gospel.
For four good years, the Lord’s invitation in Doctrine and Covenant 88:81 lingered on my mind. Meanwhile, I was learning an electrical and plumbing trade that would take almost three years to complete. This job prevented me from attending Church regularly.
During this time of doubt and reflection on the decision to take, I was inspired by the Savior’s promise in Matthew 6:33–34.
After careful reflection, I finally resolved to accept the call to serve a full-time mission, and it was at this point that I began to encounter a series of obstacles.
I quit my job and went to Côte d’Ivoire to work on my mission application. When I arrived in Côte d’Ivoire, my elder sister hosted me. I stayed with her for a while before finding a job.
After a few months, I found a job in a boutique where I was to be paid 600 francs CFA a day, or 20,000 francs CFA a month. I had to accept it because it was the only opportunity I had.
I also met a girl who agreed to be my girlfriend. I told her about my beliefs and my plans, and she was willing to stand by me.
During working hours, I would go to money agencies to deposit money in amounts ranging from 500,000 francs CFA to 4,000,000 francs CFA. Whenever I received any amount of money and recounted it, there was always a surplus, which I gave back to my boss. Surprised at my honesty and integrity, he increased my salary and often gave me 1,000 to 3,000 francs CFA every evening in addition to my salary. Each time I received my salary at the end of the month, I completed one task on the requirements list for my mission. During this time of unrelenting effort, I had a misunderstanding with my elder sister, so I had to move out and embark on a new adventure. I had no place to sleep because all the money I earned at the end of the month was invested in my mission application. I slept at my friends’ homes, where sometimes four people shared a small room. Some close friends declined my request to spend the night in their homes. There came a time when I wandered from house to house with my suitcase, looking for a place to lay my head. One night, with no place to sleep, I slept on the ground at a marketplace.
Through it all, I kept my faith and knew that the Lord gives no commandment to the children of men without preparing a way for them. (See1 Nephi 3:7.)
One evening, I met with my boss to discuss my situation and the goal I wanted to achieve (i.e. serving a full-time mission). After listening to me, he set a condition: If I would forgo my dream and stay with him, he would do everything for me. I knew he could do that. He had good intentions when he set this condition. He was very close to me, and I had become like a son to him. He trusted me more than some of his brothers. For me, the Savior‘s call was the most important thing. I, therefore, declined the offer. He even sent people to plead with me, but it was all in vain because I was determined to serve a mission.
Finally, I went to Abidjan to apply for my passport, during the COVID-19 pandemic. Along the way, we had to get off the bus and walk for miles to cross certain areas. We even had to walk through the forest during the trip.
There were all sorts of issues with getting a passport, but by God’s grace, I got mine.
After about a year of working on my mission application, I gave it to my bishop to submit it to the stake president. To my utter surprise, my bishop lost the file containing my passport and medical records. This was a huge ordeal for me. That night, I got on my knees and cried my heart out, pleading with God to make it possible for us to find the file. After my prayer, I told Heavenly Father that if we did not find the file, I would work on another application no matter how long it would take.
A few weeks later, a miracle happened: my file was found at the premises of my stake president’s company. The security guard had been keeping the file all this while since he did not know the owner.
This experience strengthened my faith in Christ, that He is mighty to save.
After receiving the file, we gave it to my stake president to fill it out and submit online. However, the file was not submitted online for nearly two months, and it was at this point that I felt like giving up. When I told my girlfriend that I wanted to give up, she replied with a statement that I had made at the beginning of our relationship, that nothing and no one could stop me from serving a full-time mission. I regained hope, called my stake president, and followed up with strict monitoring. When the application was submitted, I quit my job to better prepare for my mission. At one point, I ran out of food and was supported by my girlfriend.
Finally, my call came. I was called to serve in the Côte d’Ivoire Abidjan West Mission with President and Sister Lewis. I was so happy I had attained my goal. I had to go to the training center in Ghana, but due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I had to undergo my training online. There again, I paid for an internet bundle out of pocket until I ran out of money. A few days later I informed my trainer that I would have to stop taking the course for lack of money. Surprised by what he had just learned, he sent a message to my stake president, and the problem was resolved. I then proceeded with my training as planned.
I experienced adversity from the beginning of my preparation till the end. I am grateful for having kept the faith and for the hand of God that supported me during those trying times.
After my mission, I married that young girl who stood by me through it all. We now have a child who makes us so happy. I testify that as much as we shall put our trust in God even so much we shall be delivered out of our trials, and our troubles, and our afflictions, and we shall be lifted up at the last day. (See Alma 38:5.)

Some fine carpenters from Norway who arrived and settled in Manti were given the assignment of building the roof for the temple. They had never built a roof structure before, but they had experience as shipbuilders. They didn’t know how they would design a roof. Then the thought came to them: “Why don’t we just build a ship? Then, because a well-built ship is solid and secure, if we turn the plans upside down, we’ll have a secure roof.” They set about to plan to construct a ship, and when it was completed, they turned the plan upside down and it became the plan for the roof of the Manti Temple.
In this case they used lessons from their past experience—the principles of shipbuilding—to help them meet the challenge. They correctly reasoned that the same principles they had applied to building a seaworthy vessel would also apply to building a solid roof. For example, both structures needed to be waterproof. The basic integrity of the structure wouldn’t be affected by its orientation—whether right side up or upside down. The most important thing was to have a working knowledge of the basic principles required to erect any structure that was built to last.

It had been several years since my husband, Jerold, passed away. The cancer had come quickly and aggressively, and in three months he was gone. Now I was thinking of him as I worked in my yard.

As I was repotting a plant, I had a thought. Before I intervened, the plant was doing OK. It was at home in the pot it was already in, but it was not flourishing. I knew if I didn’t repot it at some point, it most likely would stop flowering and maybe even stop growing. It certainly wouldn’t be able to do its best.

So, I decided to give the plant room to grow by transplanting it to a larger pot. Not a great big pot—one that was just two inches larger in diameter. If I gave it too much space, it could end up overwatered and die from root rot.

I expected the plant to struggle as it tried to adapt. It had been quite comfortable, all snug in the pot that it had become accustomed to. It wasn’t aware that change would help it to keep growing. I needed to nurture it along, giving it proper light, water, and the extra nutrients required during this time of adaptation. I knew it would, eventually, flourish and flower again.

As I thought about my life as a widow, I realized that I was like that plant. I had been comfortable. I had been doing fine. But when my husband passed away, I heard the Spirit whisper that I was entering a new phase of growth. I still had things I needed to learn and do in this life.

Over the next two years, seven other men in our ward also passed away. I started asking my newly widowed friends to get together, to talk, to visit, to serve others—so that each of us could feel just a little less lonely. None of us would have chosen to be “repotted.” But as I adapted to mortal life without my husband, I found that I could provide support to others who faced a similar challenge. I also found there were many opportunities to spend time with children and grandchildren and reassure them that through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, in the next life our family can be together again.

I never would have anticipated the growth that would come to me because of the loss of my spouse. But Heavenly Father stepped in and “repotted” me, giving me room to grow by placing me in a little bit larger pot—a new challenge that provided an opportunity for growth.

I still miss Jerold every day. Years later, I still struggle as I am trying to adapt to the change of being without him. But I know the Lord will nurture me along the way. With time, and with trust in Him, I will flourish and flower once again.

I felt the lure of Kalaupapa before I ever visited there. In 2003, my wife, Joanna, and I were investigating the Hawaiian Islands in preparation for a research trip and anniversary celebration. I asked her where she would like to visit after my research was completed and she quickly responded, “I don’t care where else we go, but we must see Kalaupapa.” It was high adventure just getting to that remote location. The destination necessitated a precarious mule ride down the highest sea cliffs in the world.1 At last, we spilled out onto a flat peninsula, four-miles of transforming terra firma that changed my life.

The literal translation of Kalaupapa has been rendered “flat plain” or “flat leaf.”2 In either case, I discovered through much reading, many interviews, and multiple firsthand encounters that Kalaupapa is a leveling experience: Here one crosses the boundaries of his or her self-proclaimed beliefs and ethnicity and melds into a community defined only by humanity, a greater realm of brotherhood and compassion. For it is in Kalaupapa where religious denominations and cultural divides vanish—where the love of God and mankind manifest themselves in a truly magnificent way, triumphing over the devastation of leprosy also known as the separating sickness.

Marie-Frédérique Carter, 15, is a member of the French-speaking Lemoyne Ward. She lives in a nice, suburban part of town, where she attends a large écolesecondaire (high school) named in honor of a Catholic monsignor. Her friends know her as an aspiring violinist. They also know her as a Latter-day Saint who keeps her standards.
“I got into quite a discussion with one of my friends concerning the law of chastity,” Marie-Frédérique explains. “She thought I was really old-fashioned. She didn’t agree with my standards at all. But she finally saw I was going to stick to my principles no matter what. I want to be a good member of the Church, and I know that obedience now will bring blessings later on.”
Just the same, it isn’t always easy. “It’s hard when you get to a certain age, and you see your friends who aren’t LDS start dating and having boyfriends, and your desire is to remain faithful to the Church and to the standards that have been given to us by a living prophet. At first, I found that difficult. But not anymore. I find that I am happy doing what’s right and knowing that I’m blessed by my Heavenly Father.”

We sustain Gordon B. Hinckley as the President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and as the prophet, seer, and revelator of the Church in our time. A letter which I received from a proud father tells of an experience with his then five-year-old son and of the boy’s love for the President of the Church and desire to follow his example.
The father wrote: “When Christopher was five years old, he would get ready for church on Sundays mostly by himself. On one particular Sunday, he decided that he wanted to wear a suit and tie, which to that point he had never done. He scoured the closet on his own for a hand-me-down tie and produced a rather used clip-on one that he didn’t need to create a knot for. He attached the tie to his white shirt, then capped it off with the small navy jacket that had hung for years in his closet.
“On his own, he went into the bathroom and painstakingly combed his blond hair to perfection. About that time, I came into the bathroom to finish getting ready myself. I found Christopher beaming at himself in the mirror. Without taking his eyes off his reflection, he proclaimed proudly, ‘Look, Papa—Christopher B. Hinckley!’”
A boy had been watching a prophet of the Lord.

A young man came to me not long ago and said, "I made an agreement with a man that requires me to make certain payments each year. I am in arrears, and I can't make those payments, for if I do, it is going to cause me to lose my home. What shall I do?"
I looked at him and said, "Keep your agreement."
"Even if it costs me my home?"
I said, "I am not talking about your home. I am talking about your agreement; and I think your wife would rather have a husband who would keep his word, meet his obligations, keep his pledges or his covenants, and have to rent a home than to have a home with a husband who will not keep his covenants and his pledges."[1]

One morning as I finished reading from and pondering the Book of Mormon, I realized that I would again finish it by the end of the year. This realization brought back the memory of my brother, whom I cared for in my home during his final weeks with terminal cancer in 2005.
Oliver was determined to fulfill a promise to himself to follow the counsel of President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) and read the Book of Mormon by the end of the year.1 But by that fall, Oliver still had many pages to go. Eventually he became so weak that he could no longer read to himself.
Determined to keep his commitment, Oliver asked me if I would read the Book of Mormon to him. I was much further along in my own reading, but I was glad to begin where he had left off.
By reading to Oliver every day, I was able to help him reach his goal to finish the book by year’s end, just days before he died. By that time he could hardly speak audibly, but his mind was clear and active. With much effort, he often expressed his appreciation to me for the gift I had given him, saying he could now die in peace because he had fulfilled his promise.
I had read the Book of Mormon many times before, but I had never felt its spirit so powerfully or understood its precepts so clearly as I did during those waning months of my brother’s life. Truly, Oliver had given me the greater gift.

One example of her mother’s faith left an indelible impression on nine-year-old Alexandria. Her father, who had been working hard in the field one day, came home early with a burning fever. Hannah immediately gathered the children, asked them to remain quiet, and then knelt beside her husband’s bed and said a silent prayer. When she arose, she smiled at her concerned children. “Your papa will be well soon,” she said. That very day his fever subsided, and he was able to return to work. Alexandria never forgot that experience.

One evening my mom and stepdad were really tired, so I decided to tuck them into bed. First I put toothpaste on their toothbrushes so they could brush their teeth. Next I pulled down the comforter and the sheets so they could climb into bed. When they were in bed I read them a story from the Friend. They really liked it. Then I sang them two songs—“I Am a Child of God” and “You Are My Sunshine.” Then I went to bed.
A few minutes later my mom came in and told me how special I am and that she really appreciated what I had done for them. She explained to me that this was charity—to do nice things for people. I felt really good inside.

After spending most of the winter and spring on missionary journeys to Canada, “Elder Young,” as he was now often called, along with Heber C. Kimball, responded to the revelation the Prophet had received calling the Saints to gather at Kirtland. Apparently some of the others who gathered there had difficulty finding the right kind of employment or in getting paid on time, so, contrary to counsel, they went off to surrounding towns for the winter. But as Brigham later remembered, “I told them I had gathered to Kirtland because I was so directed by the Prophet of God, and I … was going to stay here and seek the things that pertained to the kingdom of God by listening to the teachings of his servants, and I should work for my brethren and trust in God and them that I would be paid.”9

Elsewhere two families in a small rural ward began feuding years ago. Although the exact circumstances are difficult for anyone to remember, it had something to do with a remark made by one father to another. The original observation was innocent, but it was misunderstood, and within days several variations of the story had spread. Feelings were hurt, sides were taken, and for years bitter feelings have chased the Spirit from them at activities and gatherings. Local leaders have tried to provide counsel and encouragement. Often those actions have been misunderstood as well. Today members of an entire family, including children and grandchildren, refuse to attend church largely because a simple observation blew up into a fire of faultfinding and criticism.

James Setterberg was also part of the first generation of missionaries to use Preach My Gospel. When he arrived in the Texas Houston East Mission in 2005, his fellow missionaries had been using the resource for several months. But because of the example of a local priesthood leader, Elder Setterberg realized that the tool’s usefulness wasn’t limited to the missionaries.
“In one area, we missionaries lived in the home of a stake president and his family. Every morning, they got up for scripture study, which included going through the various chapters of Preach My Gospel. That’s when I realized that this book really is for everyone,” he says.
It was a lesson he brought home with him. “Before my mission, I had never really set specific goals for my life; I guess I didn’t want to overshoot things,” he admits. “But because of the emphasis on goal setting from my mission president and chapter 8 of Preach My Gospel, that began to change.”
Weekly planning and goal-setting sessions for two years formed a habit that James has retained since his return home. He has, for example, set and worked toward educational and spiritual goals. He says, “I’ve come to realize that without setting goals, you can’t really tell where you are in life, progression-wise. But when you do set and work toward goals, you stretch yourself and become a better person. I have Preach My Gospel to thank for learning that.”

I was puffing as I ran my third lap around the track, but I was determined to finish at least one more. My friend Jennifer had pulled ahead of me as usual, nearly half a lap ahead and still gaining. It didn’t bother me that she was faster. I admired her for it. I admired her for a lot of things.
We had been friends since fifth grade, and I remember that she struggled with math so much she had to get extra help. Now she was on the honor roll. Athletics were easier for her, but she had to work hard at that, too. That’s why we were running the track together. She needed the athletic conditioning; I needed the exercise.
It was hard not to like Jennifer; her outgoing personality made her cheerful and friendly. She seemed to have it all and do it all. Her life was an endless round of activities, all of them wholesome and productive.
I was busy, too. I always had more to do than time to do it in. In fact, I had to schedule my time very carefully. I thought about Jennifer’s schedule—which was busier than mine—and wondered how she accomplished all she did.
About then I noticed a younger red-haired girl standing by the track watching us. She was a handicapped student at our small school. I said a polite hello as I ran by her, but I couldn’t afford to slow my pace to say much more. She watched as I rounded the track.
Jennifer seemed to be behind me now, even though I knew she was already a lap ahead and about to pass me again soon. She would finish before me, I was sure, and move on to the other important activities she must have planned.
I looked ahead to the next turn and then looked back to see where Jennifer was. She had slowed to a snail’s pace, and the red-haired girl was holding her hand and running beside her. The busiest girl in school had time to help someone else, and I didn’t. I thought about the Savior as I watched the two of them running together.
I was the only onlooker. Only the Lord and I would ever know about that small kindness. Jennifer didn’t do it for recognition; it was just the way she was. That day she became my hero, not because of all the great things she was known for but because of that simple act of kindness when no one was around but me.

Melinda Moody, 17, of Tempe, Arizona, won the 1972 Piano Concerto Contest sponsored by the Phoenix Symphony Guild and was honored by performing the Prokofiev Piano Concerto #1 with the Phoenix Symphony Orchestra.
As a winner, she was eligible to compete in another guild contest in which she won a full scholarship for the summer to the Music Academy of the West in Santa Barbara, California. There she studied piano with Jerome Lowenthal, noted concert artist. Melinda hopes to be a concert pianist herself.