Gospel Story Finder

The Lord always keeps His promises. He opens the way for us as we do His work.
For years we had hoped to purchase the internet domain sites ChurchofJesusChrist.org and ChurchofJesusChrist.com. Neither was for sale. About the time of President Nelson’s announcement, both were suddenly available. It was a miracle.

(114) As a mission president, S. Mark Palmer learns to “behold” missionaries and love them as the Father and Son love them.

The Liahona is a constant blessing in my life. The articles in it reach the bottom of my heart. It was a special blessing when my whole family was baptized on the same day in October 2003, and the Liahona has been a blessing to all of us ever since then.Jessica Lisseth Sinche Urgano, Peru

Another beautiful woman was honored for her caring, her serving, and her leadership. As a nurse she comforted the wounded in World War II. As a wife and partner with her husband, she built a worldwide business which blessed the lives of many. And today she, as a widow, continues daily service to her state and community. She seems to always be smiling. Perhaps this is because she has found the key to happiness. She has always been a missionary. She has ever been there when needed.

Elder David A. Bednar
(48) David A. Bednar’s father asks why priesthood holders don’t do their home teaching.

Several years ago my husband and I asked our children what they liked about the recent general conference. Our then-16-year-old daughter was elated. She said, “I loved it! I loved hearing inspired, intelligent prophets and leaders affirm motherhood.” Then she told us that this was one of the disturbing anxieties in her life: “I just don’t hear it from anyone—not at seminary, not in Young Women, and definitely not at school; nowhere except at home.”

Kamla Persand was from the Mauritius island, attending medical school in Bordeaux, France, when we met her in February of 1991. We had prayed as a family to be able to share the gospel with someone who was seeking the truth, and we taught her in our home. I was privileged to perform her baptism, but we were not the most significant influences in Kamla joining the Church. Friends, missionaries, and even family members had been “witnesses of God” in her home country, and one day in France, when the time was right for Kamla, she made the decision to be baptized. Now, 25 years later, the blessings of that decision are all around her, and her son is a missionary in Madagascar.

Jonathan wondered if he was really sure. His parents had talked to him a lot about taking good care of his bike. But when he thought of his parents, he remembered scripture stories they had taught him about helping others. And his dad was always helping people. A lot of the time Jonathan got to help too. He helped his dad get firewood for a family whose truck had broken down. He helped his dad clean Sister Story’s yard when she couldn’t get around very well. That was fun because she had a little dog named Peetie, who liked Jonathan a lot. He remembered his dad driving him to Brother and Sister Call’s house to leave treats on the porch, knock, and run away. They did that several times until the Calls guessed who was doing it. After that, they knocked, took the treats into the house, and stayed for a good visit.

“This is going to be the most boring family home evening ever!” groaned Jeremy, slumping in his chair as he pushed his carrots into his potatoes. “Couldn’t we just stay home and make Easter treats? What kind of Easter celebration is this?”
“We’ve already discussed this,” said Dad firmly. “Too many Easters have come and gone with very little thought about its real meaning. It’s time our family made a change. Tonight’s service project is the sort of thing the Savior was doing the last week of his life—helping others.”
“But why her?” moaned Jeremy.
“That’s enough,” said Mom. “Finish your dinner. We don’t have a lot of time before the sun goes down.”
Sullenly Jeremy sat up and started in on the cold potatoes. It wasn’t that he had anything against their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Adams. And it was obvious that an eighty-year-old widow needed help. But why couldn’t they do something for someone like Sister White? Every time anybody did anything for her, she treated them with delicious homemade cookies.
Or what about the Spencers? Jeremy’s Primary class had helped them move in. The very next Sunday Sister Spencer had even cried as she bore her testimony about “those wonderful Blazer boys.”
And the time Jeremy’s Cub Scout den had cleaned up the playground at the park hadn’t been too bad, either. The mayor himself had written them a thank-you note and sent them each a coupon for an ice cream cone.
But it was going to be different with Mrs. Adams. She hardly did any cooking—people brought most of her meals in to her. She didn’t go out in public enough to tell anybody else how wonderful Jeremy’s family was. And she certainly didn’t have enough money to treat everyone to ice cream. Besides that, she was hard of hearing. She would probably sit in her house watching TV and never even notice that they were working in her yard.
Cleaning Mrs. Adams’s yard was about as hard as Jeremy had imagined. It took his whole family nearly two hours to rake up the dead leaves and grass and prune the bushes on the side of her house. It was nearly dark when they finished. And he had been right about Mrs. Adams and the TV. She had it turned up so loud that they could hear it outside. She never knew what was going on only a few feet away, right outside her door. Even so, Jeremy started to smile when he thought about how surprised she would be.
Jeremy’s oldest sister, Kim, was helping him tie up the last bag of dead leaves. “I know how you feel about tonight. I had to cancel plans with my friends!”
Jeremy didn’t know what to say. Kim was in high school and was so busy that he hadn’t really talked to her for a while.
“But this morning in seminary,” Kim went on, “Sister Hansen reminded us that no one has ever done more for other people on this earth than Jesus. When he prayed in Gethsemane and when he died on the cross, nobody said thank you. Anyway, I started thinking that maybe it would be a good way to celebrate Easter, to do something hard without getting thanked.” She smiled. “You’re quite a worker, you know that? And I happen to know that Mom made brownies for us, so cheer up.” She picked up the bag and carried it out to the curb.
But it wasn’t the brownies that Jeremy was thinking about as he watched her go. He was thinking about how strangely peaceful he felt. The last dark pink of the sunset was just fading, and he could barely see the rest of his family as they gathered up the rakes, pruning shears, and other things and headed home. But he knew that his family were there, and he knew that he loved them. He could see Mrs. Adams through her living room window as she stood up with her cane to go into the kitchen. And while Jeremy didn’t understand all of those feelings he was having, he knew for sure that Easter time was never going to be the same again.

As a young man just 19 years old, Joseph F. Smith (who later became the sixth President of the Church) was traveling from California to Utah with a small group of Latter-day Saints. As they set up camp one evening, a group of drunken men rode into their camp on horseback. The men had guns, and they threatened to kill any Mormons who came across their path. Some of the Latter-day Saints hid in the bushes by the creek. Joseph F. Smith, who had been gathering wood, boldly approached the fire. One of the drunken men, pointing his pistol at Joseph, said that it was his duty to kill every Mormon he met. He then demanded, “Are you a ‘Mormon’?”
Joseph F. Smith looked the ruffian in the eye and answered, “Yes, siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through.” The man was so surprised by Joseph’s honest answer that he grabbed Joseph’s hand and said, “Well, you are the … pleasantest man I ever met! Shake, young fellow. I am glad to see a man that stands up for his convictions.” The drunken men then rode off and did not bother the Saints again (Joseph Fielding Smith, Life of Joseph F. Smith, 188–89).

I made a “get-along bucket.” I filled it with slips of paper that said things that me, my sister, and my brother can do together. On the back of the papers, I wrote Primary songs that we know. I felt the Holy Ghost while I was making the get-along bucket. I felt grateful for my family.
Avalyn G., age 7, Michigan, USA

I was 12 years old when Gilbert, a category five hurricane, hit Jamaica.1 I remember being in a church meeting a few months earlier when a message from President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994), then prophet of the Church and the beloved prophet of my childhood, invited the Saints to prepare for emergencies through water and food storage, staying out of debt and saving as much as possible. In my family, trying to have food storage seemed impossible, and for a 12-year-old boy, it just did not seem important. Furthermore, at the time the message came, there was no immediate need to heed that counsel.
On the morning the hurricane was expected to arrive, I went to school. It was raining, and when I got to the school gate it was locked with the security guard telling all students to go home. His question to all of us was, “Didn’t you watch the news?” It was my first hurricane experience and one I would never forget.
That night, throughout the turbulence of the hurricane with howling winds and crashing roofs, my family prayed, held each other and cried. I remember we had visitors staying with us from Canada and the woman crying into her husband’s arms asking why they came to Jamaica to die.
The light of the next morning made it clear that Hurricane Gilbert was the worst hurricane Jamaica had experienced in a long time. It wreaked havoc on our country and many households would be without electricity, water and basic food supplies for weeks. In my home, we had made minimal preparations and were among the many wishing we could get bread, ice, meat, or crackers. I longed for a cold drink of water or a nice slice of warm bread. I wondered if we would ever stop eating corned beef and tinned mackerel. We had many dark nights because candles were scarce, and the places to buy lamp oil were like battlefields of war.
I share this story from my childhood because I heard my grandmother and many members of the Church testify in the weeks following this terrible disaster that they remembered hearing the letter from the prophet read in sacrament meeting to prepare, and they all expressed regret that they did not. Even though this was a difficult lesson to learn, it was also testimony building because all in attendance declared their sure knowledge that we were being led by prophets and apostles who knew how to guide us. For a boy of 12 years old who had just experienced something unforgettable, these testimonies entered my heart, and I decided then to heed the warnings of prophets.

This sacred temple and family history work that we share with the Saints on both sides of the veil is moving forward more than ever as the Lord’s temples are being built. Now that the temples have special schedules for family groups who come with their own family name cards, my wife and I have had delightful experiences as we have served in the temple together with our children and our grandchildren.

From her bedroom window, Sandra spied a robin tugging at a worm. She ran to the kitchen and told her mother, “There’s a robin in the yard, and I’m going to catch it!”
Sandra scurried out the door and bounded toward the robin. The bird flew away. Sandra thought, I didn’t go fast enough. So when the robin landed in the yard again, Sandra raced as fast as her legs would go. But the robin was in the air before Sandra got halfway to it.
Sandra pushed her hands into her pockets. If I could fly, I could catch that robin, she thought.
Seeing it perched in the tree, she called, “Here, birdie. Here, robin.”
But the robin just flew to a higher branch, where Sandra couldn’t see it at all. Sandra was disappointed. She sat under the tree and squeezed her eyes shut and said, “Heavenly Father, please help me. I just want to see the pretty robin up close. I won’t hurt it, I promise.
Opening her eyes again, Sandra thought, Maybe if I had a worm, that robin would come to get it.
Sandra used her sandbox shovel to dig in the dirt near the porch steps. She turned the dirt over, as she’d seen Daddy do, and found a small, wriggly worm. Sandra picked it up and held it in the palm of her hand. Then she went over to the tree and held out her hand and called, “Here’s a worm, robin! Come and get it.”
But the robin didn’t come.
Sandra sat down on the porch step. She tossed the worm to the ground. A tear ran down her cheek.
Just then the robin landed in the yard. Sandra just sat there. She knew that if she moved, it would fly away again.
The robin hopped closer. Sandra held her breath as it hopped very close to her, snatched the worm, and flew away.
Sandra clapped her hands and laughed out loud. Heavenly Father had answered her prayer. She couldn’t catch a bird, but she could watch it up close if she sat very still and was very quiet. She laughed again and went inside to tell her mother.

Heber Jeddy Grant was born to Jedediah M. and Rachel Ivins Grant on 22 November 1856 in Salt Lake City. His father, who was a counselor to President Brigham Young and the first mayor of Salt Lake City, died when Heber was only nine days old. A member of the First Presidency prophesied to Sister Grant that her son would grow up to become an Apostle of even greater importance than his father. Her constant counsel to her young son was to behave and be obedient, so he might be worthy to have this blessing fulfilled in his life.

During my senior year of high school, I prayed for the Spirit to lead me to someone ready to hear the gospel. I had a friend in mind as I prayed. This friend of mine, Ashley (name has been changed), had expressed some interest in my religion, and she already held herself to the same standards as Latter-day Saint youth. I was convinced this was the time she needed to hear the gospel.
I was serving in my Laurel class presidency at the time, and during a bishopric youth committee meeting, I received a strong impression to suggest to the bishop that we have a missionary activity in Mutual. I felt impressed that the youth of our ward should invite nonmember friends to this activity for a question-and-answer session with the missionaries serving in our ward. My bishop enthusiastically set up the activity with the elders, and I was sure that this was the answer I had been praying for. Now Ashley could come and learn more about the gospel in an environment where she would not feel any pressure. I was confident that after Ashley came to the question-and-answer activity, she would be touched by the Spirit, ask to receive the missionary lessons, and in about a month would be baptized and confirmed a member of the Church.
Now my prayers turned to how to ask Ashley to the activity. I prayed to serve as an instrument in the Lord’s hands to introduce His plan and gospel to someone prepared to receive it. At school I invited Ashley to the activity, and she said she would ask her parents if it was all right with them.
Later that afternoon, I received a call from Ashley. She told me her parents were definitely OK with it. In fact, she explained that before her parents married, her father had lived with two LDS roommates and was very impressed with how they lived. I was overjoyed because the only obstacle I had envisioned was whether or not Ashley’s parents would be OK with her pursuing another religion.
As I continued to pray about the upcoming missionary activity, I felt a calm reassurance that I was indeed an instrument in the hands of the Lord and that He was pleased I had acted on the prompting at the bishopric youth committee meeting. I looked forward to the activity with great anticipation. Ashley and I had been friends for many years, and I was excited to play a part in her introduction to the gospel and, of course, her resulting conversion.
On the morning of the activity, I received a phone call from Ashley. She had changed her mind and was no longer planning to come to the activity. I was devastated and confused. I had been praying for Ashley, I was sure she was ready, and she was the whole reason I had thrown myself into missionary mode. I also felt embarrassed. During the activity planning process, I had made it very clear to everyone that my friend Ashley was ready to learn and accept the gospel.
As I cried with frustration in my room, I began to be filled with self-doubt. If I had been wrong about Ashley, then maybe I had been wrong in believing that the missionary question-and-answer activity was actually a spiritual prompting. Engulfed in a teenage sense of uncertainty, anger, self-pity, and disappointment, I decided to skip the activity myself.
A few weeks later, as I was walking through the school library, my friend Brian asked me if I wanted to come to his baptism. Brian and I didn’t have any classes together that year, so it had been quite a while since I had seen or spoken with him. The previous year we had sat next to each other in a history class and had partnered up for a class project. Our project topic, randomly assigned by our teacher, was “Joseph Smith and the Mormons.” I remembered Brian had been quite interested in the topic as we did our research. However, he also liked to joke around, saying things like, “Remind me which wife number your mom is” and “There is going to be this fun party this weekend, but oh, wait—you’re Mormon, so you would be no fun to go with.” Thus, I initially dismissed his baptism invitation as another joke at the expense of my religion. He did not seem like the type ready to join a church with such “restrictive standards.”
But the next words out of his mouth stunned me as he described the whirlwind of the past few weeks of his life. He explained overhearing a fellow classmate and member of my ward invite someone to a question-and-answer activity at the Mormon church. When the person receiving the invitation declined, Brian asked our classmate if he could come along instead. Following the activity, he immediately began taking the missionary lessons. He read the Book of Mormon. He prayed about it. He knew it was true. He really was getting baptized, and if I wanted to, I was welcome to come. After all, he said, I was the one who introduced him to Joseph Smith and the Mormons.
In quiet amazement I realized that the Lord had heard my prayers. He was using me as an instrument in His hands to find someone He had prepared to hear and accept the gospel. It had never occurred to me to invite Brian to meet the missionaries because he did not seem, in my opinion, ready. Not like Ashley.
At that humbling moment I realized how vital it is that I act on all promptings I receive by the Spirit. Although I continue to pray that Ashley will be ready for the gospel, I learned a significant lesson from the unexpected outcome of my attempt at sharing the gospel with her. The Lord always has a purpose for the promptings He gives us, and I do not need to know or guess what it is. Instead, it is my responsibility to carry out the prompting confidently and resolutely. As I pray for missionary opportunities, act on promptings, and accept the Lord’s will, rather than trying to impose my own, I can more fully serve as an instrument in the hands of God and help build His kingdom.

As I walked out of the Church Administration Building after my interview with President Hinckley on Friday afternoon, I recalled the words of Enoch:
“And when Enoch had heard these words, he bowed himself to the earth, before the Lord, and spake before the Lord, saying: Why is it that I have found favor in thy sight, and am but a lad, and all the people hate me; for I am slow of speech; wherefore am I thy servant?
“And the Lord said unto Enoch: Go forth and do as I have commanded thee, and no man shall pierce thee. Open thy mouth, and it shall be filled, and I will give thee utterance, for all flesh is in my hands, and I will do as seemeth me good” (Moses 6:31–32).

“Come on, Jodi! It’s only one little game! God isn’t gonna hate you for playing just this once on Sunday.”

“That’s right,” thought Jodi Allen, a 17-year-old from Sandy, Utah, and the star goalkeeper on her championship soccer team. “It’s only one little game”—nowhere near important enough to break a personal promise she’d made to Heavenly Father years before.

But how could she explain that to the teammates who were pressuring her? They’d worked hard all season, winning the Utah state championship and the right to play in the western regionals in San Francisco. A win on Sunday could mean a chance at the finals. The backup goalkeeper had quit, and the roster was frozen. There was no one to take her place, and the same opponents had beaten them 9–1 the year before.

“Oh Jodi—who do you think you are? Some of us are LDS, and we’re playing on Sunday. Do you think you’re better than we are?”

No, there was never a question about playing on Sunday—not even in this tournament. But making her teammates understand was another story.

“Look,” she tried, “if I don’t play on Sunday, sure, I’ll disappoint my team, and I feel bad about that. But if I do play on Sunday, I’ll disappoint so many more. I’ll disappoint myself, because I’d be breaking a promise. I’d disappoint my parents, who know how important that promise is to me. I’d disappoint my cousins, who don’t play on Sunday because of my example, and I’d disappoint my seminary teachers, who have taught me better. But most important of all, I’d disappoint God. I just can’t do that.”

It was a great explanation, but it didn’t do Jodi much good. All Saturday night the team tried to convince her to play. They made fun of her. They called her every name they could think of. Finally, at about midnight, Jodi called home in tears. It wasn’t that she was tempted to give in. It’s just that she felt so alone.

Her parents listened. Her parents understood. Both her mother and father got on the phone and had a prayer with her. After they hung up, they called an old friend in the Bay area and asked her to give Jodi some support.

The next morning Jodi got up and got dressed—in a dress, which she wore as she stood on the sidelines watching her team play. They ended up tying their opponents, 1–1, and afterwards, many of her teammates apologized for being so critical of her.

The team ended up tying for third in the tournament, which was better than they’d ever done before. Jodi thought this would be a good note on which to end her soccer career, even though she was a junior in high school and could play for one more year.

“I’ve achieved just about everything I wanted to with soccer,” Jodi said. She had been ranked as the number one goalie in the state and had been scouted by a number of universities, but when they heard of her policy on Sunday play, they lost interest. “I’d like to try to develop some other talents now—things like music and acting. Plus being on the seminary council will require a lot of time,” Jodi said.

So Jodi’s senior year in high school will be a busy one, despite the lack of soccer, the sport she’s dedicated so much to for so long. She says she won’t miss it too much and that the things she’s learned from it will help her in other parts of her life.

“‘To everything there is a season,’ and the soccer season is over,” said Jodi. “I have no regrets. Because of soccer, many missionary doors have been opened. The Lord has blessed me, and others through me. I haven’t gone unrewarded. I’ve been humbled, pushed, and just about everything else, but I learned that I can stand up to it. The Lord knows he can count on me, and I know I can count on myself.”

Jodi couldn’t be happier knowing that she didn’t let one little game spoil all that.

Clara and the Bookwagon Clara wanted to learn to read, but Papa said that there wasn’t time, that they had to keep busy working on their farm. Then the bookwagon came. … Based on a true story.Nancy Smiler Levinson4–8 years

Growing up in the Church and going to Primary, I have learned about Jesus Christ from when I was a little girl. And my testimony has grown stronger since then. Now that I’m on a mission, I love having the opportunity to share the gospel and testify of Jesus Christ every day.
As I think of the Savior and all the things He has done for me, I want to be closer to Him. I’m personalizing the things I learned as a child. I love being able to help other people feel the love of our Savior Jesus Christ. This testimony is not just something I say—it comes from my heart.
Susana V., 21, Tonga