Gospel Story Finder

The advice deeply impressed young Hal. He went on to finish his degree in physics, graduating not long after the end of the Korean War. During the war, the number of missionaries called from each ward had been greatly restricted. Further, by the time he graduated, Hal had already committed to a commission in the United States Air Force. So he entered the military without having served a full-time mission. But in a bishop’s blessing prior to his departure, Hal was promised that his military experience would be his mission.
That blessing proved to be prophetic, for though Hal was originally sent by the Air Force to the Sandia National Laboratories near Albuquerque, New Mexico, for temporary schooling, circumstances were such that he stayed on there for the full two years of his duty. Two weeks after his arrival, he was called as a district missionary in the Western States Mission. He served almost two years to the day in that calling.

A Church leader told nine-year-old Margaret, “You are like your mother—cheerful, loving, and hopeful, and you enjoy doing good to people. These are also qualities of Heavenly Father. You and your mother inherited godlike virtues because you are His daughters.” Every time Margaret thought of the leader’s words, she felt peaceful and happy.

Eventually a branch was formed in these new members’ village, and they needed a meetinghouse. Since there was no road to the village, the members carried all of the building materials the last two kilometers up the hill to the building site.

Somehow, in spite of conflicting feelings, I decided to go on a mission. Once I had made the decision, I was elated, almost euphoric. But when I told my nonmember mother, she found the idea disagreeable. “I have lost you as a son,” she said, with great pain on her face.
In spite of my mother’s reaction, I had many peaceful Sundays and many quiet, confidential talks with Bishop Calvar. “Look,” he said one day. “Here are the keys to the church. Find a little room somewhere and get close to the Lord.”
Day after day after that, I would stop at his house and pick up the keys. I would stay at church for four or five hours, reading the Book of Mormon and other scriptures. I also fasted for the purpose of gaining a testimony of the book.
The bishop knew about the fasting, and he did not miss an opportunity to instruct me about the close relationship between the body and the spirit. He explained the importance of the Word of Wisdom and taught me how to seek personal revelation. I will never forget his teachings.
The hours I spent in that classroom at the church will always be part of my life. I cannot specify any particular hour or day when my testimony came; it was a gradual process. But slowly, each story in the Book of Mormon became my own personal spiritual feast.
Often, I felt as though transported from the cold metal chair on which I sat, or from the floor on which I knelt, to the ancient days of the Nephites and the Lamanites. I did not read King Benjamin’s sermon—I lived it. I imagined that I lay on the grass, surrounded by Nephite tents, watching people who had come to hear their aging leader. His speech answered many of my longstanding questions about the role of government, good leadership, personal worthiness, and the nature of true service.
From the beginning I had believed that the promise of Moroni would be fulfilled. But I had expected it to happen suddenly, as it had for others I knew. But though it came gradually, it came powerfully. I knew! I knew!
I left for the mission field surrounded by the love of Church members, as well as that of some of my family. My family didn’t quite understand what I was doing, but most believed it was something good.
How grateful I am to the Lord for that time of challenge! How grateful I am for the opportunity I had to represent the Lord Jesus Christ! During my mission, I bore my testimony of him and of the Book of Mormon often—a testimony which I had gained slowly, but undeniably, one conversation, one prayer, one page at a time.

Sammy liked to do many things. He participated in karate and school sports. He enjoyed reading and kept up with his favorite book series. He attended his Webelos meetings and worked hard to earn the badges. But one thing Sammy didn’t like was dogs—big, small, or anywhere in between. He wanted nothing to do with them. The sight of a dog terrified him, and he would move as quickly as he could in the opposite direction.
One morning, Sammy’s neighbor Megan went skipping down the road, heading for the school bus stop. Suddenly she stopped. There in front of her was the biggest dog she had ever seen. It was tan and even taller than she was. She froze in her tracks and began to scream. The dog started walking toward her.
At that moment, Sammy left his house and started down the street toward the bus stop. He heard Megan screaming and saw her and the dog. He started shaking, but he continued to walk closer. Then he bent down, put his hands on his knees, and called, “Come here, dog. Come.” The dog looked back and forth from Sammy to Megan, and then trotted over to Sammy. Sammy held onto the dog’s collar until the owner came to take the dog home. Sammy was awfully glad to see the dog go.
Sammy still doesn’t like dogs. But he was glad he had the courage to help a friend in need.

My husband’s great-grandfather Henry Clegg Jr. was a finisher. He joined the Church with his family when the first LDS missionaries went to Preston, England. Henry had a view of his destination in his mind as he and his wife, Hannah, and their two young boys immigrated to Utah. Henry left his older parents, who were too feeble to make such a long and arduous journey, knowing he would never see them again.
While crossing the plains, Hannah contracted cholera and died. She was laid to rest in an unmarked grave. The company then moved on, and at 6:00 in the evening, Henry’s youngest son also died. Henry retraced his steps to Hannah’s grave, placed his young son in his wife’s arms, and reburied the two of them together. Henry then had to return to the wagon train, now five miles away. Suffering from cholera himself, Henry described his condition as being at death’s door while realizing he still had 1,000 miles to walk. Amazingly he continued forward, putting one foot in front of the other. He stopped writing in his journal for several weeks after losing his dear Hannah and little son. I was struck with the words he used when he did start writing again: “Still moving.”
When he finally reached the gathering place of the Saints, he began a new family. He kept the faith. He continued his story. Most remarkably, his heartache over the burial of his sweetheart and son gave birth to our family’s legacy of moving forward, of finishing.
Henry Clegg was still moving forward to live among the faithful Saints, to take his place, to raise a righteous family, to serve his neighbor. He had that picture in his mind even when his heart was breaking. I heard a Primary child from Ghana answer the question “What does it mean to choose the right every day?” with, “It means to follow the Lord and Savior every day and do your best even when it is hard.” This modern pioneer boy knew President Hinckley’s admonition. He knew about keeping commandments every day. He understood that his own story would unfold simply by putting one foot in front of the other, one day at a time.

“The Lord has called a modern prophet, President Spencer W. Kimball. It is a great privilege to live at the same time as President Kimball. I remember when I was in Oklahoma with a man whose father had been a stake president there for about fourteen years. The stake president kept a visitor’s guest book for General Authorities and other special guests to sign. It was a pretty thick book, as I recall, and it had the signatures of Joseph Fielding Smith, Matthew Cowley, Adam S. Bennion, and other great leaders. There was space for the date and the person’s name, position, and hobby. Under one entry in 1954 I read these words: ‘Name—Spencer W. Kimball; position—Apostle; Hobby—I love people.’ I kept turning the pages, and I saw that President Kimball had revisited the stake ten years later. Except for the date, everything was the same, including ‘Hobby—I love people.’ I think when the prophet loves us so much, we can love him and pray for him too.”

When Elder John Taylor returned to Europe on a mission, he published the Book of Mormon and other Church writings in both French and German.
John: Now more people can read the gospel in their own language.

I recently encountered a situation that challenged the way I thought about agency and personal revelation. As I was nearing the end of graduate school, I had a few different job offers in different cities and could not decide which one to take. Like the brother of Jared, I had experienced many moments where I had prayed about a major decision and God answered with a pretty definitive response. Relying on those prior experiences, I began to pray and ask God to help me decide which job I should take. I was also doing my part by learning about each job opportunity and counseling with many people. But no matter how much I prayed or fasted, the heavens stayed silent, and I received no answer.

The deadline to make a decision was approaching, and I began to panic. Surely this was the kind of decision the Lord must care about, so why wasn’t He answering? Maybe He didn’t care about which job I chose, but He must care about which city I moved to since it would undoubtedly have an impact on my life. The Lord had always cared about my decisions in the past, so why would He not care about this one too?

Yet no matter how hard I tried, no answer came. I started to wonder if I had drifted far enough away from God that I could not hear His answer. I also wondered if I could not hear because I subconsciously did not want to hear the answer. Finally, the day before the deadline, I knew I had to make a choice, so I used my judgment and made a decision. That night I simply prayed, asking if He would tell me if my answer was wrong. Still no response came, so I went ahead and took the job.

Several months later, I was still questioning my decision, so I asked for a priesthood blessing to receive reassurance. In the blessing I was told that I didn’t get an answer to my prayer because the Lord was happy with any decision I made. This blessing reinforced advice previously given to me by my mission president, who told me that oftentimes it doesn’t really matter what decision we make. God wants us to learn how to stand on our own two feet and decide how to live our lives. My mission president also reminded me that God, as our Heavenly Father, won’t punish us and take away promised opportunities if we are sincerely trying to figure out what to do.

6. Dr. Emmanuel Kissi—“He Raised the Woman Up,” by Jesse Bushnell
In 1983 a poverty-stricken woman with a severely malnourished child came to Latter-day Saint doctor Emmanuel Kissi for help. Dr. Kissi had food items sent to him by the Church to treat those with malnutrition. At no charge, he gave her rice, corn, beans, and cooking oil. The woman fell down in gratitude before the doctor. Dr. Kissi raised the woman up by the hand and said, “This food has been sent to you from God. You must give all your thanks to Him.”

One item that is always on the agenda of every class or quorum presidency every month is the members they don’t see very often or at all. The deacons only have a couple of members they don’t see regularly. In the presidency meeting, Mark Jones asks, “Have any of you seen Francisco?”
Royden answers, “No, it was like two weeks ago.”
Mark says, “I’ll talk to the bishop about it. I think he has a ride problem.”
Royden then brings up a project he’s trying to work out. Their ward is so spread out that it requires long distance to call from one area to another. Royden is trying to figure out just who can make calls to whom without using long distance.
“It’s like the food chain,” explains Royden. The others look at him blankly.
“It’s like there’s one big predator,” continues Royden, “that eats something that eats something else, and so on.”
The light dawns. “Oh,” says Jay, “like a phone web. That’s a good idea.” And they are soon figuring out a plan to contact the other quorum members without running up phone bills.

Rats on the Range and Other Stories, by James Marshall. Find out what happens when a mouse becomes a cat’s housekeeper, a pig buys a sports car, and rats take a vacation. Enjoy these and other funny stories about some unique animals.

I knew we are all supposed to share the gospel, but I had never had any success. Then, during a Spanish course I was taking, I met a young man named Tiago. We became friends and often walked home from school together. One day we passed an LDS chapel that had recently been built.
“I have been a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for several years,” I said. I shared with him some of the things that we believe, and I told him how much my family and I have been blessed because of the gospel. I invited him to attend meetings that coming Sunday at 9:00 a.m.
Sunday arrived and I anxiously waited, but he did not come. During the week, I invited him again. This continued every week for two or three months. He always gave me a reason why he hadn’t shown up: “I slept late,” “I was tired,” “There were problems.” But I kept asking him anyway, and he didn’t seem to mind.
One Sunday morning I sat down on one of the benches toward the back of the chapel. There were still a few minutes to go before the meeting began when someone quietly called my name. I looked toward the door, and there was Tiago!
“Didn’t I promise you I would come one day?” he said. He attended sacrament meeting and, to my surprise, stayed for the rest of the meetings and seemed pleased when I introduced him to the missionaries. He began meeting with them regularly. Tiago and I continued to talk as we walked home from school, but our conversations were about the truths he was learning. I was able to answer questions and bear my testimony. Finally, he gained a testimony of his own and joined the Church.
Today I am a full-time missionary in the Brazil Santa Maria Mission. Before I left for the mission field, Tiago also submitted his application to be a full-time missionary, and he is now serving in the Brazil Manaus Mission.
I recently received a letter from him. “Thank you for inviting me again and again to come to church,” he wrote. “I will be eternally grateful.” I am happy not only to share the gospel each day but also to know that Tiago is doing the same.

I got thinking if they keep teaching the subject over and over then it’s got to be important. So I started listening more and stayed in my Sunday School class. I realized I was actually getting more out of what they were teaching, and I really started to enjoy the lessons. Just try to listen and stay focused, and your interest in the lessons will increase.
Virginia Titus, 14Paradise, California

We were blessed again when Jeff, the oldest, went on a mission. Without his help around the house we all had to work harder. Our family seemed to have more trials than ever, but we always grew from them. Jeff’s letters encouraged us, and our family became involved in missionary work. As we shared the gospel with friends it brought a new kind of closeness and spirit into our home.

My greatest adventure, however, was the reading of the Holy Bible. From infancy I had enjoyed the simplified and illustrated Bible stories, but the original Bible seemed so endless in length, so difficult to understand, that I avoided it until a challenge came to me from Sister Susa Young Gates. She was the speaker at the MIA meeting of stake conference and she gave a discourse on the value of reading the Bible. In conclusion she asked for raising of hands of all who had read it through. The hands that were raised out of that large congregation were so few and so timid! Some of them tried to explain by saying, “We haven’t read it through, but we have studied many parts of it.”
I was shocked into an unalterable determination to read that great book. As soon as I reached home after the meeting I began with the first verse of Genesis and continued faithfully every day. Most of the reading was done in my attic bedroom that I occupied alone. I stayed up very late and read long hours when I was thought to be asleep,
Approximately a year later I reached the last verses in Revelation:
“He which testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus,
“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.”
What a satisfaction it was to me to realize I had read the Bible through from beginning to end! What exultation of spirit! And what joy in the overall picture I had received of its contents!
For more than half of a century now I have continued to be grateful to Sister Gates for the inspiration that encouraged me to read the Holy Bible my first time.
I recommend it to you, whether you are young or old.

Later, almost by chance while reading an obscure book, I made a discovery. There were still in existence two pillars, with the original capitals still crowning them, that had been part of the portico of Solomon’s temple. It took special permission from the Arab Religious Council to gain access to them, and then I could only get as close as the open mesh of a wire fence. In breathless silence I looked at a fragment of the glory that was Israel 3,000 years ago. Now they stand in a storage room crowded with empty chairs, silent sentinels of a glorious past.

They remember a performance in Fukuoka when missionaries brought investigators to the show. Another time, they performed in a hospital where many of the patients were amputees. "We brought something to them that seemed to lighten their lives," says Ruth. "And at the same time it seemed to lighten up my own life and make me a happier person.

Another day Lorel, 12, accompanied Lenore and Cora on an all-day shopping trip. “We went to a basketball game, then hung out at the mall and shopped for Cora’s prom dress,” Lorel beams. “It was so much fun.”

When he was three years old, he surprised his parents with his Christmas wish: a violin. He had heard his older sister playing her violin and really liked the sound.
For Christmas he got his own little violin, and he surprised everyone by figuring out how to play songs on it by ear. When he was five he got a bigger violin and started taking violin lessons. Then he surprised everyone with how much he loved practicing.
Now Benjamin is nine. And people are surprised because he plays in the high school orchestra. That’s pretty unusual for a fourth grader! Some of his favorite pieces are by Vivaldi and Handel. His favorite Primary song is “A Child’s Prayer.”
Right now Benjamin is trying to learn to compose music. He wants to write a piece that he can play in church.