Gospel Story Finder

Last year I was a Webelos Scout. When you’re in Webelos you try to get your Webelos badge and Arrow of Light. To earn them you have to get a certain number of activity badges. When I looked through the book of activity badges I saw a lot that looked fun. But then I saw one badge that I was afraid of: the Aquanaut badge. I was scared of it because I didn’t know how to swim. I thought I would sink. I decided not to try it.
Then my dad became my leader. He encouraged me to try to earn all of the activity badges. I was still scared of the Aquanaut badge. But I decided I’d earn all of them.
Dad said having faith in Heavenly Father would help me. We read 3 Nephi 18:20, which says, “And whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, which is right, believing that ye shall receive, behold it shall be given unto you.”
I prayed every day that Heavenly Father would help me be brave so that I could learn to swim. I did my part by practicing. I would exercise at home to strengthen my muscles, and my dad would take me swimming. Then I finally felt ready to pass it off. I said a prayer for help. Before I knew it, I had done it! After I was done, I gave a prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father.
I know Heavenly Father listens to my prayers.

Susan seemed to have a similar ailment. But hers developed while looking in the mirror.
“Oh, I look awful. I hate my hair. And why can’t I be thin and tall? Is that asking too much?”

And here’s Susan, back in front of the mirror, but with a new attitude:
“Wow, that ribbon Mom gave me really looks good with my hair! Maybe Jennifer would like one. It would look really good with the shirt she wore to Young Women last week. Whoa! Look at the time! I’d better hurry. I promised I’d make my famous cookies for Mutual tonight!”

One Saturday my family went to a store. We noticed a man there who looked familiar. It was President Thomas S. Monson. When he saw us, he shook my hand and asked me how old I was. When I told him I was eight years old, he asked me if I had been baptized yet. I was so happy that I had made the decision to be baptized and could tell him, “Yes, I have.” He told me to make sure I planned for a mission later. I am thankful I got to shake President Monson’s hand and talk to him. I am thankful that I got baptized. I am planning to go on a mission when I am 19.Kyle M., age 8, Utah

After we had finished the gully project, my nephew and his bride asked to have their wedding reception in the gully and garden. They planned to come and help with the final tidying up before the event.

But time slipped away. They were busy and unable to come. The day of the open house, I awoke at 6:00 a.m. feeling grumpy. I got up, grabbed my bucket and clippers, and walked to the bottom of the gully’s 58 stairs. As I worked my way up the stairs trimming the English ivy, my feelings calmed. At about 8:00 a.m., I heard a lawnmower in the front yard. I took a break to see what was happening.

When I reached the front yard, Elder Nelson had finished mowing his lawn and was now mowing my lawn.

“You don’t need to do that,” I said.

“Yes, Grant,” he replied, “I need to do this for you today.”

Elder Nelson knew how to hear Heavenly Father. That day, God knew I needed some help.

That experience changed me. Afterward, when my wife and I prayed each day, we began asking to be made aware of those around us who needed our help.

Toby curled himself around his mother’s feet on the kitchen floor and began to purr. “Look, Mommy! I’m a kitty,” he said.
Mommy stirred sugar and salt into a big bowl of hot milk on the table and smiled. “Oh, you’re a kitty, are you?” She bent over and patted his head. Toby gave a contented meow. The yeast in a cup with warm water had risen to the top in a bubbly foam. Mommy tested the milk to make sure that it was cool enough, then poured the yeast and a small amount of oil into the bowl.
When Mommy pulled her feet out from under Toby and went to the cupboard for the sifter, Toby slithered up onto a kitchen chair. “Look, Mommy! I’m a snake,” he hissed. He weaved and bobbed as he watched her mix the fine brown flour into the liquid in the bowl. When the dough became stiff enough to handle, Mommy dumped it onto the clean, flour-dusted table and began to knead it with her hands. Toby loved to watch this part, and he flicked his tongue and rattled his tail as he watched.
Next, Mommy put the dough back into the bowl and covered it with a red-checkered cloth. “Time to feed the baby, Mr. Snake,” she told Toby, and they went into the baby’s room. Mommy sat in the rocking chair and softly hummed as she fed Toby’s baby sister.
Toby sat on the floor and practiced wiggling his nose. “Look, Mommy! I’m a mouse,” he squeaked, and the big rocking chair creaked back at him.
“Can you be a very quiet mouse so the baby can go to sleep?” Mommy asked.
Toby nodded and decided to become a mouse statue. He held very still and tried not to squeak or wiggle as Mommy gently laid the baby in the crib and tucked the soft blankets around her. Toby and Mommy tiptoed out of the room and quietly closed the door.
“Look, Mommy! I’m a bunny,” Toby said with a little hop. As he hopped into the kitchen, he noticed that the dough had rounded up over the top of the bowl and was peeking out from under the cloth. Mommy tipped the dough out onto the table and punched it down, working it between her hands and the table. Toby’s bunny ears pricked up, and he giggled as the bubbles in the dough popped and burped at him.
When the dough was smooth and round, Mommy cut it into four parts and shaped each part into a loaf. She put them into pans and set them on the stove to rise again.
Toby hopped into his bedroom, and when he came out again, he had his white blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “Look, Mommy! I’m an angel,” he said, pulling his angel robe more tightly around himself.
“It’s naptime for all sleepy little angels,” Mommy said. Toby reverently floated into his room and onto his bed. Mommy kissed his cheek and tucked his angel robe up under his chin. Toby laid his head on a fluffy cloud pillow and drifted off to sleep.
When he woke up, a wonderful smell was tickling his nose. He jumped out of bed and ran into the kitchen. Four golden brown loaves of bread were sitting on racks on the kitchen table. Toby watched as Mommy sliced a big piece off the end of one loaf. She spread butter and honey over the warm slice of bread and handed it to Toby.
“Look, Mommy! I’m a little boy, now,” Toby said as he took a big bite. “I’m glad Heavenly Father sent you to be my little boy,” Mommy said.
Toby licked the melted honey and butter that ran down his fingers. “Me, too!” he said happily.

Our four-year-old son, Coleton, proudly presented a slip of paper given to him from his Primary teacher detailing his part in the upcoming Primary program. Our job was to teach him his seven-word line before the program was presented in two weeks.
On Monday evening we converted family home evening into a full-on rehearsal. With a smile on his face, Coleton made dozens of practice attempts, with my wife and me giving feedback like, “Don’t be silly as you say it” and “Be sure to speak clearly.”
Despite all of our efforts, even I wasn’t sure we were any better off than we had started.
Preparing for church the next Sunday morning included two lost socks, a teething eight-month-old, and a crying four-year-old.
Once the meeting began, we scarcely made it past the opening hymn before I made two trips to the hall with a crying child. By the time the choir stood to sing, I had nearly abandoned hope of any of the family having an edifying experience and hoped instead that we would simply make it to the end of the meeting.
As the final amen was said, I let out an exhausted sigh of relief. Yet as I celebrated the victory, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Is it really worth it? Are we really making any progress with our kids by bringing them to church every week?”
The words of Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles came to mind. He said: “At times Sister Bednar and I were exasperated because the righteous habits we worked so hard to foster did not seem to yield immediately the spiritual results we wanted and expected. …
“Sister Bednar and I thought helping our sons understand the content of a particular lesson or a specific scripture was the ultimate outcome. But such a result does not occur each time we study or pray or learn together. The consistency of our intent and work was perhaps the greatest lesson—a lesson we did not fully appreciate at the time” (“More Diligent and Concerned at Home,” Liahona, Nov. 2009, 19).
With renewed confidence, I returned home and continued to practice over and over with my son. When his moment to speak came, we were thrilled to hear him clearly and confidently proclaim, “Jesus Christ is the Son of God.”
We had heard him say the line dozens of times before the performance, but something about hearing him say it away from home, on his own, was different and far more satisfying.
We have a lot of teaching to do before our little boy becomes a man, but we’ll keep doing our best to attend our meetings, hold our family home evening, and say our daily prayers in hopes that one day when he’s away from home and on his own, he’ll again remember that ever so important line: “Jesus Christ is the Son of God.”

The prayers of one missionary’s parents were answered by the personal ministry of another. A missionary arrived in a foreign mission and was struggling with discouragement. He said he couldn’t take it and wanted to come home. His parents and others tried to encourage him but to no avail. At a reception during a training session, this distraught father mentioned his son’s struggle to a priesthood leader.
The following week an envelope arrived at the parents’ home. Inside was a copy of a letter that had been sent to their son. The letter had been typed on a typewriter and very tenderly addressed to the discouraged elder. It was several pages long, full of encouragement and the writer’s own missionary experiences about faith and sticking to it. The letter was warm, loving, thoughtful, personal, and signed, “Sincerely, your brother, President Gordon B. Hinckley.” Shortly after this, the elder wrote his parents to say he was staying. He became a mighty power for good among the people of his mission.

In 1836 Parley P. Pratt went to Canada following a great prophecy uttered by Heber C. Kimball in which Brother Pratt was instructed to go to Toronto. He was told that he would there find people waiting for him who would receive the gospel, and that from there the gospel would spread into England, where a great work would be done. In Toronto he found President John Taylor, the Fieldings, and many others.

In August of the next year, 1837, the Prophet Joseph Smith, with Sidney Rigdon and Thomas B. Marsh, then President of the Twelve Apostles, visited Toronto. Riding in a carriage and holding evening meetings by candlelight, they visited the churches. Elder Taylor accompanied them. He said: “This was as great a treat to me as I ever enjoyed. I had daily opportunities of conversing with them, of listening to their instructions, and in participating in the rich stores of intelligence that flowed continually from the Prophet Joseph.”

Women in the Apia Samoa East Stake told us,

We . . . decided to approach the government if it was all right for the Stake Relief Society sisters to plant some flowers around the town clock. We chose the town clock because it is right in the middle of the town, and we felt it would be just the right place to have a beautiful garden. Its flowers would bear the theme of the Relief Society, “Charity Never Faileth.” The government was thrilled. . . . They thanked us wholeheartedly, and then they asked us if there was any way we could paint the 20-foot clock tower as well. We told them . . . we would see what we could do. . . . The stake did not have money, which did not worry us a bit. We only wanted them to approve it, as we had a strong feeling and belief if it was the will of the Lord, things will work out. . . . Paints and equipment were donated, professional painters offered themselves and their time, and the priesthood of our . . . stake also helped out with the work. The sisters of the eight units of our stake worked in scraping the old paint off, scrubbing and cleaning the clock tower, and, of course, in planting the flowers. We will be taking turns in maintaining the gardens there for the whole year. Again, the sisters were generous and willing.

1802–1880
“I determined to trust in the Lord and stand bravely.”
She worked as a seamstress to support her family while her husband, Addison, was on a mission.
She took her children to the Salt Lake Valley in a covered wagon.
She served a mission with her husband in French Polynesia.
On her mission, she learned the Tahitian language and shared the gospel.
In S. George Ellsworth, The History of Louisa Barnes Pratt (1998), 65.
“It is a spiritual feast to … hear [Nabota and Telii] pray.”
They were some of the first Church members from the island of Tubuai in French Polynesia.
They learned the gospel from Elder Addison Pratt.
They gave him a place to stay, taught him to speak Tahitian, and traveled with him.
They taught others on the island about the Church and helped them live the gospel.
Addison Pratt in the Millennial Star, August 1, 1845, 59.

I wanted to join the Church, but I also didn’t want to make my mom mad. My mom played a big role in my decisions while I was growing up. She was a minister, so I constantly listened to her instead of going to church and learning for myself.
I was a little hesitant when we set a date for my baptism. The missionaries came over, and we talked about it.
Finally, I asked my daughter, Aryanna, “Do you want to be baptized?”
She said, “Mom, I’m ready whenever you are.”
She told me that when she went to church, all the girls ran and greeted her. They took her to Primary classes and were always friendly. They wanted her to be part of things. She became really good friends with one of the girls. That’s what she enjoyed about it.
At Aryanna’s baptism, she cried tears of joy. When I saw her, I thought, I’m where I need to be.

After a particular surgery, I fell into a deep depression. I understood the symptoms and tried to handle it alone. One evening I found myself sitting on a chair in our bedroom, unable to walk the few feet to the bed. When my dear husband entered, I explained to him about depression. I said that I would not likely make it till morning as I had so little energy and felt I was sinking fast. He replied softly, "You will make it. I will help you to the bed and stay right by you until morning, when we will call the doctor." And he did.

When I was a boy, we lived in the summer on a fruit farm. We grew great quantities of peaches—carloads of them. Our father took us to tree pruning demonstrations put on by the agricultural college. Each Saturday during January and February we would go out to the farm and prune the trees. We learned that by clipping and sawing in the right places, even when snow was on the ground and the wood appeared dead, we could shape a tree so that the sun would touch the fruit which was to come with spring and summer. We learned that in February we could pretty well determine the kind of fruit we would pick in September.

Jenelle heard her best friend, Michelle, ask Rebecca to her birthday party on Sunday. Michelle’s parents had planned a swimming party to celebrate her eleventh birthday.
Michelle had already invited Jenelle, but Jenelle had told Michelle that she’d have to let her know. Jenelle knew that she wouldn’t be going to the party, but she didn’t want to say that in front of the other girls.
The two girls had been friends since they were six years old. But after Jenelle’s family had become members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints nine months ago, things had changed between them. Jenelle wanted Michelle to understand that becoming a Latter-day Saint didn’t change what Jenelle felt for her friend, but Michelle was having a hard time accepting that.
After school, Jenelle trudged home more discouraged than ever because Michelle had announced that everyone else she’d invited to her party would come. At least Mom will be home, Jenelle thought. She’ll know what I can do. I always feel better after talking things over with her.
At home, she quickly found her mother in the kitchen. “What am I going to do?” she asked once she’d told her mother the whole story.
Mom put her arm around Jenelle’s shoulders. “You have to decide what’s more important to you—going to your friend’s party or obeying the commandments.”
Jenelle sighed. She knew what she should do. That didn’t make it any easier, though. She didn’t want to hurt her friend’s feelings. And more than anything, she wanted to go to the party. Almost more than anything, she thought. She couldn’t break one of the commandments, especially when the prophet had spoken about the importance of keeping the Sabbath Day holy in a general conference talk.
She knew what she had to do. After school the next day, she hurried home and wrapped the present she’d made for Michelle, then walked to her friend’s house.
“I made you something special for your birthday. I’m sorry I can’t come to your birthday party. It’s because it’s on a Sunday.”
Michelle tore open the paper and held up a birdhouse. “This is great! You made this all by yourself?”
Jenelle nodded. “At Primary activity day.” She told Michelle about Primary and the activity days for girls her age.
Michelle showed Jenelle the bathing suit she had bought for the party.
Jenelle looked at the pretty aqua suit and smiled. She had looked at the same one last week while shopping with her mother.
“So what’s the big deal about your going swimming on Sunday?” Michelle asked after putting the suit away. “We’ll be going in the afternoon, after your church lets out.”
“The prophet said that we need to keep the Sabbath Day holy.”
“What does that mean?” Michelle asked.
“It means we don’t shop on Sunday or go swimming or to ball games—stuff like that.”
“What do you do?”
“We go to church, spend time with our families, listen to music. Read the scriptures.” She smiled, remembering last Sunday. “Sometimes my mom and dad take a nap.”
Michelle frowned. “Who is this prophet? Why do you have to do what he says?”
“He’s the President of the Church.”
“So he’s like the boss?”
Jenelle smiled again. She’d never heard the prophet described as a boss, but she supposed it made sense to people who weren’t members of the Church.
“What makes the prophet so special?” Michelle asked.
“He teaches us things Heavenly Father wants us to know.”
“You mean he talks with God?”
“Yes,” Jenelle answered firmly. She knew that a lot of people had a hard time understanding that.
“Does he have a name?”
“Right now the prophet is Gordon B. Hinckley.”
“Do you have to do everything he says?”
“We don’t have to. We choose to,” Jenelle said, hoping Michelle understood.
“Could you come to my birthday party next year if it was on Saturday?”
Jenelle hugged her friend. “I’m already counting the days till then!”

Returning to the subject of temples, I was a member of the BYU Sixth Stake presidency in 1967 when we were invited to a special meeting. Hugh B. Brown and N. Eldon Tanner, counselors in the First Presidency, announced plans to build the Provo Temple. Two years later I had the interesting experience of attending the temple groundbreaking. Once again with great interest I closely followed the construction of a temple. Then, during the open house, I helped prepare Braille floor plans and organize a special tour for those who were visually impaired.

The temple’s dedication on February 9, 1972, was a special experience. President Joseph Fielding Smith presided. In his dedicatory prayer, among other things, he petitioned, “Let that great temple of learning, the Brigham Young University, . . . be prospered to the full. Let Thy enlightening power rest upon those who teach and those who are taught.”9 As a BYU faculty member, I was and am grateful for that blessing. As we left the temple, we were so moved by the Spirit that we didn’t feel like speaking until we were outside. The dedicatory proceedings were carried by closed circuit to several large auditoriums here on campus. Many students told me how those attending here in the Marriott Center had the unusual and impressive experience of seeing thousands of people exiting this huge arena in reverent silence.

To illustrate, one of our daughters told me a story about going to a school dance. She waited until I was distracted with company, then, when I wasn’t looking, she changed and hurried off in a skirt she knew I wouldn’t like. At one point during the evening boys started paying attention to her, and she remembers vividly how it made her feel. It wasn’t the kind of attention she wanted after all. At that moment she decided to get rid of that outfit. Her experience and the consequences with clothing helped her learn an important lesson about agency and obedience, and she was able to invite more of the Light of Christ into her life.

Aghakhu Iyamu participated in the returned missionary orientation program soon after returning from his mission where he was encouraged to participate in self-reliance group meetings in his stake. He enrolled in and participated in the Education for Better Work group meeting where he learned to choose the skills that will enhance his self-reliance. He never did obtain a PEF loan but was mentored to learn air conditioning and refrigeration skills, which led to his being hired as a handyman assigned to work in New Benin Stake.

I was somewhat familiar with the Church and its teachings because my family had met with missionaries when I was six years old. Ten years later, during the time I was struggling with my peers’ challenges to my personal standards, my mother happened to go to mormon.org and ask for the missionaries to visit again. I decided I needed to look into the Church again, too.
I appreciated how the members and missionaries were so welcoming and willing to answer my questions, such as why the Holy Ghost is a gift and how families can be sealed for eternity. And when I learned about basic aspects of the Church, such as the fact that we were all spirit children of God and that there are modern-day prophets, through my prayers the Spirit revealed to me that the teachings are true.
When I first attended a Latter-day Saint ward, I felt a sensation of joy and pure energy I had never experienced before. Peace and contentment flowed through me as I soaked in the loving atmosphere and listened to heartfelt testimonies. Everyone radiated happiness, and their giving spirits touched me. I later found out that these feelings came from the Holy Ghost.
However, the first time I strongly felt the Holy Ghost’s guidance was when I was reading the pamphlet titled The Testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith. I could identify somewhat with Joseph Smith’s confusion, and I saw pure truth in the statement: “They teach for doctrines the commandments of men, having a form of godliness, but they deny the power thereof” (Joseph Smith—History 1:19).
Joseph’s story penetrated so deeply into my core that I felt a burning sensation in my chest and began to cry. At that moment, I knew with all my heart that this is the one true Church. After reading the pamphlet, I told my mother, “I know it is true. I am ready now.”
Ultimately, my experience with the Joseph Smith pamphlet was the catalyst for my baptism and confirmation—and much more. My mother and I were baptized in March 2009, my father was baptized two months later, and we were all sealed in the temple just over a year later. Every day, I am grateful that I converted to the Church. The Holy Ghost has been a constant, loving companion to me, and He has influenced my life in both major and more mundane ways, as well as in ways I was not even aware of at the time.

Abba and her mother got off the bus long enough to do some banking. When they walked into the bank, one of the customers seemed very angry. He raised his voice to the teller, then stormed away.
Abba saw the sad look on the teller’s face and tugged at her mother’s sweater. “May I give a grown-up a gift?”
“Sure—but first let me ask if she would like one.”
Abba walked up to the counter as her mother told the teller about the gift. Abba handed it to her and watched as a smile broke out on the teller’s face when she opened it and saw a pretty yellow airplane! The teller held it up for the other people in the bank to see.
As Abba and her mother walked out the door, they could hear the other people laughing and talking happily about the gift.

The early days of April in the year 1893 were heavy with storm and gloom. A leaden sky stretched over the earth, every day the rain beat down upon it, and the storm-winds swept over it with terrific force. Yet the brightness and the glory of those days far outshone the gloom. It was during those tempestuous days of early April that the Salt Lake Temple was dedicated.
During the dedicatory services, it was my privilege to transcribe the official notes of the various meetings. At the first service, which was known as the “official dedication,” I was sitting on the lower side of the east pulpit, at the recorder’s table. Brother John Nicholson, who had been busy at the outer gate, came in and sat down beside me. Just as President Joseph F. Smith began to address the Saints, there shone through his countenance a radiant light that gave me a peculiar feeling. I thought that the clouds must have lifted, and that a stream of sunlight had lighted on the President’s head.
I turned to Brother Nicholson and whispered: “What a singular effect of sunlight on the face of President Smith! Do look at it.”
He whispered back: “There is no sunlight outdoors—nothing but dark clouds and gloom.”
I looked out the window, and somewhat to my surprise, I saw that Brother Nicholson had spoken the truth. There was not the slightest rift in the heavy, black clouds above the city; there was not a gleam of sunshine anywhere.
Whence, then, came the light that shone from the face of President Smith? I was sure that I had seen the actual presence of the Holy Spirit, focused upon the features of the beloved leader and prophet, Joseph F. Smith. It was but an added testimony to me that he was the “Chosen of the Lord.” I cherish the occurrence as one of the most sacred experiences of my life.