Gospel Story Finder

Daniel ran into his house. He was sad.
“What’s wrong, Daniel?” Mom asked.
“Jake was being mean to kids at recess. I told him to stop,” Daniel said. “He got mad. He called me a name. He said he does not want to be my friend.”
“I’m sorry,” Mom said. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
Mom and Daniel walked to Mom and Dad’s room.
Mom took a jar of pennies from the shelf. She poured the pennies onto the bed.
Clank! Clank! Clank!
“Pick a penny, Daniel,” Mom said. “You can keep it.”
Daniel picked a very shiny penny.
“Why did you pick that penny?” Mom asked.
“I like that it is shiny,” Daniel said.
“Friends are like pennies,” Mom said. “We should choose friends who make us feel good.”
That night when Daniel went to bed, he prayed to find a friend who would help him choose the right so he could feel good.
Daniel remembered a boy who liked to play basketball at recess. Daniel liked to play basketball too! Maybe they could be friends.
Daniel was happy the next day when he got out of bed.
“How do you feel today?” Mom asked.
“Great!” Daniel said. “I’m going to make a shiny-penny friend!”
At school Daniel played basketball with the boy. He was nice. They had a fun time. Daniel was happy to have a shiny-penny friend.

I remember the many times my dear mother trusted in our Heavenly Father for my safety. I played quarterback at East High School in Salt Lake City and running back at the University of Utah. During all that time I don’t think my mother ever stopped praying for my safety. She trusted in our Father in Heaven, depending on Him to protect me from major injury during the games. Although I had my share of bumps and bruises, I never had a major injury.

I suppose my mother breathed a sigh of relief when I told her I was going to leave the football field for a season. I met with my beloved bishop, Marion G. Romney, to express a desire to serve a full-time mission. But that short, worry-free season soon ended when I was called to serve in the German-Austrian Mission. Three months after I arrived in Salzburg, the name of the mission was changed to the Swiss-Austrian Mission.

The year was 1937. I arrived in Salzburg, Austria, at the very time Hitler was amassing 300,000 troops on the border for the Anschluss, his invasion of Austria.

My mother and father gathered the family to kneel in prayer morning and night and pled for my safety. I know that I felt the influence of those prayers. I trusted my Heavenly Father would hear their prayers. I trusted in my prayers that He would preserve my life.

A month before Hitler invaded Austria, I was transferred to Switzerland. My testimony is that our prayers had been answered.

The youth of Calgary Alberta West Stake planned a big day devoted to service. The project included holding car washes in several locations and donating the money collected to the Alberta Children’s Hospital. But the weather had something to say in the matter. Their plans were not only rained out; they were snowed out.
Instead of washing dirty cars, the youth turned their brushes and buckets to the windows and baseboards of two chapels. After a thorough job, they turned the rest of the day into a fun time with food and volleyball.
The Super Saturday activity concluded with a banquet and special speaker. In the testimonies borne by several young people, they mentioned learning a vivid lesson about being flexible and dealing with life’s disappointments.

When I was baptized at 18 years old, I knew that living the gospel of Jesus Christ would become a way of life. I felt the importance and seriousness of living gospel standards, and doing so has blessed my life in many ways.
One gospel principle that is really important to me is honoring the Sabbath day. It allows me to stop my daily routine and to focus my thoughts on my Heavenly Father.
I work in a tourism business in Costa Rica. In this industry, it is typical for people to work on Sundays. When I started my job, I identified myself as a member of the Church. I requested—and was granted—Sundays off.
Because of my unusual request, my colleagues and my boss were curious. They asked me a lot of questions about my beliefs. Over time I had opportunities to explain to them some of the things that Latter-day Saints believe. In many cases my explanations of gospel doctrines earned their respect.
One day my boss gathered our staff for an announcement. “I need you all to come to work for the next two weekends,” he said. My heart sank. I knew this meant I would need to work on Sunday.
But then my boss continued: “That is, everyone except Juan Carlos. We know that nothing is going to make him come to work on Sunday.”
I was relieved. My boss had honored my request! Because of my behavior and the standards I exhibited at work, I had gained his respect. As a result he was willing to honor my beliefs.
I know that as we make gospel standards a priority in our lives, the Lord will bless us.

“There’s the temple!” Dad said, pointing out the car window.
Rachel leaned forward in her seat. She could see the tall white spire in the distance with the golden angel Moroni on top. It was beautiful!
All her life, Rachel had looked forward to going inside the temple. Now she was just minutes away from going inside for the first time! Mom and Dad had even helped her find family names to be baptized for.
Rachel had heard about how peaceful the temple was. But as their car pulled into the temple parking lot, Rachel started feeling kind of panicky.
I’m going inside God’s house, Rachel thought. What if I’m not ready? What if I’m not worthy? She swallowed hard as Mom parked the car.
“You OK?” Dad asked as they got out.
“I’m a little nervous,” said Rachel.
“It’ll be great,” Mom said. “There will be lots of kind temple workers to help you.”
“And we’ll be there too.” Dad gave Rachel’s arm a gentle squeeze.
That made Rachel feel better. But just a little.
Rachel and her parents walked through the temple doors. A man in a white suit was at a desk. “Welcome to the temple,” he said, smiling. Rachel showed him her recommend. Some nice temple workers gave her a white jumpsuit in her size.
Rachel tried to feel the peace everyone had talked about. But new worries kept popping up in her mind like crazy popcorn kernels. What if the water’s cold? What if I don’t know where to go? What if I do something wrong?
When Rachel went into the locker room to change, she knelt down in the stall and prayed. “Heavenly Father,” she whispered, “please help me feel more calm. Please help me to feel peace.”
Rachel’s worried mind felt a little clearer as she finished her prayer. She stood up, zipped on her white jumpsuit, and walked out to meet her parents by the baptism font. She was feeling better already!
There were some other kids waiting to be baptized, so Rachel sat on one of the soft benches to wait. It helped a lot to watch them and see how it was done.
Then it was Rachel’s turn. She gave a temple worker the cards with her ancestors’ names. She took a deep breath and stepped into the water. It was warm!
Rachel listened as the young man baptizing her said the words to the baptism prayer. As she came up out of the water, she felt like her ancestors were giving her a big hug for doing this for them. She felt like she could almost hear them whisper, “Thank you.”
After Rachel changed into her dry clothes, she was confirmed for the ancestors she was baptized for. When she and her parents walked back out the temple doors into the sunshine, Rachel felt good inside.
“So, what did you think?” Dad asked.
“I loved it,” Rachel said. “I loved it with my whole heart.”
As they drove away, Rachel smiled as she watched the temple disappear in the distance. She really had felt peace inside the Lord’s house. And she could honestly say that she loved to see the temple.

Some years ago a fire erupted in the middle of the night and completely destroyed a family’s home. A neighbor came by to console a seven-year-old, not knowing that he was about to be taught a great principle. “Johnny, it’s sure too bad your home burned down.” Johnny thought a moment and then said, “Oh, that’s where you’re mistaken, Mr. Brown. That was not our home; that was just our house. We still have our home, we just don’t have any place to put it right now.”

But not all women give birth to those they mother.
President Joseph F. Smith was left an orphan at the early age of 13. He was later sent on a mission to the Hawaiian Islands. On the island of Molokai he contracted a severe fever and was seriously ill for three months. A wonderful Hawaiian sister took him into her home and tended him as lovingly as though he were her own son.
Many years later President Smith visited the islands as President of the Church. Charles Nibley tenderly described the experience:
“It was a beautiful sight to see the deep-seated love, the even tearful affection, that these people had for him. In the midst of it all I noticed a poor, old, blind woman, tottering under the weight of about ninety years, being led in. She had a few choice bananas in her hand. It was her all—her offering. She was calling, ‘Iosepa, Iosepa.’ Instantly, when he saw her, he ran to her and clasped her in his arms, hugged him, and kissed her, … patting her on the head saying, ‘Mama, Mama, my dear old Mama.’
“And with tears streaming down his cheeks he turned to me and said, ‘Charlie, she nursed me when I was a boy, sick and without anyone to care for me. She took me in and was a mother to me’” (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Joseph F. Smith [1998], xvi, 192).

Another successful project has been to take a family home evening to the home of less-active youth on Wednesday evenings. “Some of the parents aren’t members,” says Jackelin. “In fact, many of these youth are the only Church members in their families. But usually their parents let us come in. When the kids see us, they’re surprised. But they can see the interest we have in them. One of us gives the lesson, and we encourage questions and comments. You can really feel the Spirit. Usually the things of the world are what keep them from returning to church. Many of them say they’re happy we’ve come and that they still have testimonies.”
But expressions of friendship must be genuine, Jackelin says. “Sometimes when they see us, youth who are not active try to hide because they think we’re always going to talk to them about the Church. But we try to be aware of their lives and talk to them about other things too. We want them to see we’re interested in them and happy to be their friends.”

Ricardo and his friends stood outside one of the sealing rooms in the São Paulo Brazil Temple, wondering why they couldn’t go in. No one was stopping them; after all, the temple was being rededicated, and this was its open house. They asked the leader they were with why they couldn’t go in, but he couldn’t tell them. He felt the same restraining spirit. It was a good spirit, but still it stopped them from entering.
Then it occurred to the leader. This room was reserved for President Gordon B. Hinckley. He would be there shortly, looking for some time alone in the Lord’s house, seeking the Lord’s peace and inspiration in prayer.
Ricardo and his friends quietly left.

For over a year I tried to memorize the Articles of Faith, but I was having a hard time because I’m deaf. I worked on it every Sunday, but I just couldn’t do it. I wanted to give up many times, but I kept on trying.
I decided I needed help, so I went into my room and knelt down and prayed to Heavenly Father. When I got up, I started trying to memorize the Articles of Faith again, and it was so much easier. I finished all 13. My mom was amazed at how well I had memorized them. I know now that whenever I need help I can pray to my Heavenly Father, and He will help me.
Sam McGrath, age 9Mesa, Arizona

While on my mission in the Philippines, my companion and I taught a particularly powerful lesson about the importance of studying the Book of Mormon daily. At the end of the lesson, my companion bore one of the most powerful testimonies of scripture study that I had ever heard. She testified that reading the Book of Mormon added a new power into her life that was impossible to explain.
It was obvious that her experience with the Book of Mormon had changed her life, and I wanted that for myself.
I decided that night that I would read the Book of Mormon again. From the beginning.
I spent a lot of time on my knees explaining to God that I wanted to experience the conversion and power that comes from the Holy Ghost.
The answer I received was: Read. Just read.
So that’s what I did. I threw myself into reading with a new vigor. I paid special attention to each verse, chapter, and page. As I read, I found verses that answered my questions, soothed my worries, and helped lift the burdens of those I was teaching.
After about a month, I realized that something inside of me was changing. My capacity to love others increased; I had more hope in the future; I was able to work harder and longer each day; I was more focused on the work; and I started to feel so much joy.
One day in my studies I came across a quote from President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994), former president of the Church: “There is a power in the [Book of Mormon] which will begin to flow into your lives the moment you begin a serious study of the book. … When you begin to hunger and thirst after those words, you will find life in greater and greater abundance.”1
As I continued to study, I began to really understand what he meant. I was finding life in greater abundance.
Looking back, I am convinced that one of the reasons I was put with that companion was so I could be there that night to hear her testimony. I felt like all the good parts of life—love, hope, trust, hard work, determination, and joy—were amplified.
There was a new light in my life, and I knew that it was real.

One day at snack time in preschool, my best friend, Roger,* said that if I ate my peanut-butter sandwich, he wouldn’t be my friend anymore. Roger doesn’t like peanut butter, but I love it. It looked so good—I had to eat it. I went home kind of sad because Roger said he wouldn’t be my friend anymore. Mom said that he would probably forget about it by the next day, and he did.
Another day, when our teacher told us to pick up our toys, Roger wouldn’t do it. He told me that if I did, he wouldn’t be my friend anymore. It was hard for me to choose the right. Our teacher told Mom that she thought that Roger was influencing me in bad ways. They decided that if it kept on happening, I wouldn’t be allowed to be with Roger anymore.
Mom told me that when Roger wants me to do something that I know is wrong, I should tell him that if he keeps making bad choices, I won’t be able to be his friend. Then I was to walk away. She thought this might encourage Roger to choose the right. We had so much fun together—I didn’t want to lose him as a friend.
That night for family home evening, Mom pretended to be Roger, my sister pretended to be another friend, and I was myself. I practiced saying, “If you keep making bad choices, then I can’t be your friend.” That week we said extra prayers that Heavenly Father would help both of us choose the right.
It was very hard to tell Roger that I couldn’t be his friend. And things didn’t turn out the way we hoped they would right away. But after I said it a few times, Roger started to choose the right! Our teacher told Mom that she was surprised at the change in him. I learned that it may not be easy to choose the right, but it’s what Heavenly Father wants us to do. And if we ask Him, He will help us.
Nicholas Colon, age 5Kokomo, Indiana

1 In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus taught: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.”
2 I can’t do it, Sister Simon. Jason Edwards makes fun of me every day. How can I love him? I hate him!
3 Joshua, every commandment is given to us for our own good. Hate is a heavy burden to carry, and Jesus is inviting you to lay it down. But you’re trying to do the hardest part of the commandment first. Do you think you could start out by just praying for Jason?
I’ll try.
4 Please bless Jason, Heavenly Father. Help him stop being so mean. I mean, if he’s hurting somehow, please help him feel better.
5 Hey, Miller! Is it painful being that ugly?
Actually, I feel great, Jason. Thanks for asking, though.
6 What’s gotten into him?

I started studying the gospel very carefully. After four months of intense investigation, I decided to be baptized.
My life soon turned upside down. I lost my job and had to end my medical residency. As my interests and values started to change, my old friends started to disappear. But hardest of all for me to accept was that my parents were against my baptism.
I loved my parents dearly. They had given everything they had to provide me with the best education and environment. They were proud of my accomplishments. But when they heard my decision, they were shocked. It was the first time I had wanted to do something they did not agree with, and it was very difficult for all of us. But I knew that God wanted me to be baptized. So even if my family would deny me, I couldn’t deny my Heavenly Father.
My family did not accept the invitation to my baptism, so on my baptism day I went alone to the church. There were many people at the baptism, but I felt my only “family members” were the two missionaries. Then as I turned to go to the baptismal font, I saw my mother and brother. It was the happiest day of my life. The presence of my family was like a beam of sunshine that brought me the hope of a brighter tomorrow.

It wasn’t until years later that I learned one reason why the Lord wanted me to know this story by heart.
I was living in Tokyo, Japan, with my wife and one-year-old daughter. One cold, stormy day, I walked to the train station to catch a train. I pushed through the masses of people and umbrellas, and I made my way down the flight of stairs where I saw a young woman holding a screaming baby. Tears streamed down the mother’s exhausted face, but the people passing them only walked on, muttering about the pair.
Immediately I remembered the story of President Kimball. The memory came to me with such force that I immediately stopped and asked if I could help. Once I assured her of my sincerity, she let me hold her baby and told me her story.
She was waiting for her husband to return from making a phone call about a possible job offer. He had been out of work for months, and they were homeless and living in a park.
Just then, her husband returned. Once his wife and I explained who I was, he slumped against the wall. The phone call had been fruitless. He was still jobless, and they were still homeless.
I didn’t have a stick of gum to offer anybody, but I wanted to help. Knowing that Church leaders can sometimes help in these situations, I called my stake president and asked if he could meet with them. He quickly agreed to see us that evening. After I hung up, I gave them what money I had and instructed them to buy food and to meet me later. None of them had eaten in over 24 hours.
Later that night, we walked to the stake center, where the stake president warmly greeted them and ushered us into his office.
As we talked, the father told us that after months of living in hunger and desperation, he and his wife decided that if he didn’t get a job that day, they would leave the baby at a police station and take their own lives.
As I listened, I felt a wave of gratitude for the example and teachings of prophets. I silently thanked Heavenly Father for stories that I had once found boring and repetitive. Without that repetition, I doubt the story of President Kimball would have come to me with enough force to guide my own actions that night.
The stake president introduced them to the bishop of their area, and they helped the family get basic necessities. Eventually, the entire ward rallied around this little family while they got back on their feet to become self-reliant again. Over time, they learned about the restored gospel, and then I had the blessing of baptizing the father and mother and then watching the stake president confirm them as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
I don’t consider my role in this to be anything great, but I know that I was prepared for that stormy day in the train station. There was a reason I heard stories from and about prophets throughout my youth. Heavenly Father knew that someday I would need that story about President Kimball and that it would be used to bless someone else.

All my life I was taught that there was no God. Little did I know how that would change when I applied to be a high school exchange student in the United States, representing the Czech Republic. When I filled out the application, one question was “What is your religious preference?” I knew most Americans were Christian, so that was what I wrote down. But I was a nonbeliever.
With anticipation, I awaited the outcome of my application. Where would I live?
I was assigned to the Grant and Jewel Hodson family, Latter-day Saints in Utah. Where is Utah? Mormons? Who are they? I looked up Utah in books, and I looked up Mormons too. The books said terrible things about the Church and especially about Joseph Smith. I spent my last night at home crying. I was terrified.
My mother assured me that everything would be all right, and if I didn’t like the family or Utah, I could come home or be assigned to another family.
When I arrived in Utah, Emily, one of the daughters, came to pick me up. She was 16 years old, wearing normal, casual clothes, and she was so nice. I thought, “Wow! This might not be that bad after all!” The whole family was warm and welcoming to me.
I experienced quite a cultural adjustment. I saw that my host family prayed before every meal and before they went to bed. They didn’t drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes. They lived moral lives. Everything was totally opposite of how the teenagers I had known lived.
And it seemed that almost everybody I met was a member of the LDS Church. I was impressed that when these people spoke about their church, they would say, “I know,” not, “I believe.” Never before had I heard such conviction in religious statements. If these people could know, I reasoned, there must be a way for me to know too. I was the sort of person who had to know, because if I accepted the teachings of the Church, I would have to make changes in my lifestyle and in my future plans.
With a strong desire to know for myself about the truthfulness of the Church, I watched the example of my host family. They didn’t proselytize, but the way they lived made me want to know what was behind their actions. I had never seen such faith.
I heard a Church leader say, “People will want to know Christ because they know you.” I wanted to know Christ because I knew the Hodsons. They were a great example to me of the way a family should live.
I began praying. I prayed for three weeks and nothing happened. I was a little discouraged. I thought that maybe I was not worthy to feel God’s love.
That same week I decided to join the Hodsons’ traditional family testimony meeting on the first Sunday of the month. The mother, Jewel, asked me if I would like to say anything. I said, “Sure.” But I thought, “What am I going to say?”
Since everybody had expressed appreciation, I thought I could at least express my appreciation to the Hodsons for all they had done for me. They had been so patient with me. They treated me as their own daughter and had never pushed me into anything. I would express my true gratitude.
I was the last to speak. I stood up and started saying how grateful I was for their kindness and patience and also for their desire to teach me about God. All of a sudden, a strong, overwhelming feeling came over me. The language barrier was gone; I had no problem speaking English. I was fluent for the first time! I had never felt anything like this before. I spoke as I was inspired. It was such a warm, beautiful feeling. I was quietly being taught, “You know what you are saying is true. You know I exist. You know.”
And I did know! With tears in my eyes, I sat down. I thought, “What was that?” Answering as though she had heard my question, my host mother quietly spoke, “What you are feeling is the Spirit.” All I could think was “Wow! It is true!”
With my parents’ permission, I asked my host father to baptize me into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was a happy day for me. I felt so clean and fresh! In addition to my host family, I was surrounded by many members from my ward who came to support me. I appreciated that so much.

Years ago our youngest child had a serious bone tumor in his lower back. When he was taken to the hospital for surgery, I overheard the doctors in the hallway talking about his condition. They said it was likely that nothing could be done to save our boy’s life.
When I went back in my son’s room, I tried to encourage him. I assured him that he was receiving the finest medical care. He said, “Daddy, I’m not counting on the doctors. I’m counting on my blessing. You laid your hands on my head, and you blessed me. And I have faith that the blessing will be fulfilled.”
My son was healed. His life is an example of the power of a priesthood blessing. One of the lessons I’ve learned through my Church service is that our Father in Heaven loves little children. He loves to bless them, and He often blesses them through His priesthood servants.

To my brethren, the fathers in this Church, I say, I know you wish you were a more perfect father. I know I wish I were. Even so, despite our limitations, let us press on. Let us lay aside the exaggerated notions of individualism and autonomy in today’s culture and think first of the happiness and well-being of others. Surely, despite our inadequacies, our Heavenly Father will magnify us and cause our simple efforts to bear fruit. I am encouraged by a story that appeared in the New Era some years ago. The author recounted the following:
“When I was young, our little family lived in a one-bedroom apartment on the second floor. I slept on the couch in the living room. …
“My dad, a steelworker, left home very early for work each day. Every morning he would … tuck the covers around me and stop for a minute. I would be half-dreaming when I could sense my dad standing beside the couch, looking at me. As I slowly awoke, I became embarrassed to have him there. I tried to pretend I was still asleep. … I became aware that as he stood beside my bed he was praying with all his attention, energy, and focus—for me.
“Each morning my dad prayed for me. He prayed that I would have a good day, that I would be safe, that I would learn and prepare for the future. And since he could not be with me until evening, he prayed for the teachers and my friends that I would be with that day. …
“At first, I didn’t really understand what my dad was doing those mornings when he prayed for me. But as I got older, I came to sense his love and interest in me and everything I was doing. It is one of my favorite memories. It wasn’t until years later, after I was married, had children of my own, and would go into their rooms while they were asleep and pray for them that I understood completely how my father felt about me.”

I had my eyes opened to “looking beyond what I could see” while serving as a mission president. A young elder arrived with apprehension in his eyes. As we met in an interview, he said dejectedly, “I want to go home.” I thought to myself, “Well, we can fix this.” I counseled him to work hard and to pray about it for a week and then call me. A week later, almost to the minute, he called. He still wanted to go home. I again counseled him to pray, to work hard, and to call me in a week. In our next interview, things had not changed. He insisted on going home.
I just wasn’t going to let that happen. I began teaching him about the sacred nature of his call. I encouraged him to “forget [himself] and go to work.” But no matter what formula I offered, his mind did not change. It finally occurred to me that I might not have the whole picture. It was then that I felt a prompting to ask him the question: “Elder, what is hard for you?” What he said pierced my heart: “President, I can’t read.”
The wise counsel which I thought was so important for him to hear was not at all relevant to his needs. What he needed most was for me to look beyond my hasty assessment and allow the Spirit to help me understand what was really on this elder’s mind. He needed me to see him correctly and offer a reason to hope. Instead, I acted like a giant demolition wrecking ball. This valiant elder did learn to read and became a very pure disciple of Jesus Christ. He opened my eyes to the Lord’s words: “For man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7).

Children, you are a force for good in this world. You have a great impact on your parents and all the adults around you. Your expressions of love and your approach to life often make us think of the Savior’s teaching that we need to become as little children. When our five children were young, it was often a struggle to get all seven of us together for family home evening. Then one day, our ten-year-old daughter said, “Dad, rather than giving the lesson first, why don’t we play a game first?” And she was right! That change was what our family needed to eagerly gather together.