Gospel Story Finder

Years ago, a young girl confessed to my wife and me a very tragic period of her life. I won’t tell you about her life, but it was a tragic life, and I’ve never seen a girl with sadder eyes than this lovely girl of eighteen. And in trying to give her some comfort and hope for the future, I realized that we’re adding to our past; we’re building onto it each day we live. Life is not a rigid, fixed, quantitative kind of thing. It’s a growing, qualitative, whole thing. And the whole is greater than any of its parts, and gives meaning to its parts. My arm by itself hung on the wall is one thing; my arm as a part of my body and servant of my mind is another thing. An event in that girl’s past, or even ten events, were one thing at eighteen when she was in the depths of despair. And then she came into the fold, was baptized into the Church, found some faith in Christ, converted her husband, reared a fine family, and her life has been going like this ever since. This valley of failure in her life is one thing by itself; it’s another thing when it’s one dip in a long beautiful life. This idea makes life dynamic: it’s comforting and exciting to know that you can improve.

Fun. The Bakersfield California Stake wanted to come up with an activity so fun that non-LDS and less-active youth wouldn’t be able to stay away. And that’s just what happened when they threw a stake youth “Almost Anything Goes Olympics.”
Each ward made up a team and chose a country to represent. They all met at a park by a local lake and let the fun, and water balloons, fly. Along with traditional activities like tug-of-war and egg tosses, they had events like a mattress race, where six of the strongest ward members transported the smallest perched on a mattress, and the Holey Trash Can Fill, where some team members rushed to fill a punctured trash can with lake water, while their teammates tried to plug the holes with fingers, toes, knees, and even heads.
The best-loved event was the canoe race. A barbecue and dance finished off the day.
Each ward was a winner in one category or another and received a plaque. But the youth felt that the real winners were the 15 less-active and 10 non-LDS young people who shared in the fun. Many have returned to other Church activities.

Several years ago I went on a bicycle trip in France with my sister, sister-in-law, and her daughter. Each morning we were given three pages of detailed instructions that, if followed exactly, would guide us to our destination of the day. While we were cycling through vineyards, the directives might instruct us to “go 165 feet (50 m) north, then turn left and go 330 feet (100 m).” More often, the instructions gave signs and street names.
One morning we cycled down an attractive road but soon realized that our instructions no longer fit the territory. Rapidly becoming lost, we decided to return to where we last knew we were on the right track to see if we could sort out where to go.
Sure enough, when we got there, we found a small road sign, noted in our instructions, that we had failed to see. Soon we were on our way again, matching our progress with the instructions, which again were making perfect sense.
The experience served as a metaphor that answered a puzzling question I’d had: Why, when someone has had a testimony of the gospel, would he or she ever fall away? It became clear to me that when we take a wrong turn (sin) or fail to follow God’s commandments, the instructions (the word of God) no longer make sense. The map, as it were, no longer fits the territory we’re in. If we haven’t strayed too far, we may recognize that the fault is ours and that we need to return (repent) or recommit to live as God has commanded to where we knew we were following the route correctly.

Forty-seven temples were in service when Gordon B. Hinckley became President of the Church in 1995. Still, he was anxious to take temples to the people in an even greater way. Last November I had the opportunity to visit the Mormon colonies in northern Mexico and to learn firsthand from the Saints about a special and significant event that transpired there. As President Hinckley participated in the 1997 centennial celebration of the Juárez Academy, he was impressed with the faithfulness of the Saints there. Though few in number, they have provided countless missionaries and over a hundred mission presidents. While riding back to El Paso, President Hinckley pondered the idea of building smaller temples. When he dedicated the Colonia Juárez Temple two years later, he gratefully acknowledged:

It was here in Northern Mexico, that Thou didst reveal the idea and the plan of a smaller temple, complete in every necessary detail, but suited in size to the needs and circumstances of the Church membership in this area of Thy vineyard.11

While I was serving as an Area Seventy, one of the stakes in my coordinating council participated in a large temple excursion. The temple the members attended is small, and unfortunately there were several members who, despite making the long 12-hour journey, were not able to enter the temple because it had exceeded the daily capacity.

A few days after this trip, I visited this stake and asked the president if I could talk with some of the members who were unable to attend the temple that day. One of the brothers I visited told me: “Elder, do not worry. I was at the house of the Lord. I sat on a bench in the garden and pondered in my mind the ordinances. Then I was given the opportunity to enter, but instead I allowed another brother, who had come to the temple for the first time to be sealed to his wife, to take my place. They then had the opportunity to attend two sessions that day. The Lord knows me, and He has blessed me, and we are fine.”

You may never have heard the name Arthur Henry Rostron, but on a dark night in icy waters he looked beyond his comfort zone where others had already refused to go and saved hundreds of lives that were without hope. On the night the Titanic hit the iceberg, there were three ships in the area that learned about the disaster. The two closest ships did not respond, but Captain Rostron, whose ship was 58 nautical miles (107 km) away and traveling in the opposite direction, responded to the pleas for help over the radio.

He knew the danger of the icy waters and did not hesitate, but exercised faith and prayed to God for direction. He issued this order to the crew: “Turn the ship around.” It would take them about 3.5 hours to reach the Titanic. During that time, Captain Rostron commanded his ship to proceed at full speed while he posted extra lookouts to maneuver through the ice. En route he had the crew prepare the ship with food, blankets, and medical supplies that would be needed at arrival. Those on board his passenger liner observed the captain often raising his hand to his cap and closing his eyes in prayer. His risky decision to go to the rescue ultimately saved more than 700 lives. Of this experience, Captain Rostron said, “I can only conclude another hand than mine was on the helm.”

When I was 12 years old, I was injured in a BB gun accident that caused the complete loss of sight in my right eye. In addition to the insecurity that came from the slight disfigurement, I was more than a little anxious about living life without full vision.
About a year after the accident, I traveled with my father and brother to attend a general priesthood meeting in Salt Lake City. In anticipation of being in the same auditorium with a prophet of God, I began to think that if I could just look at President Ezra Taft Benson with my injured eye, somehow the powers of heaven would flow from God through that prophet directly to me, and my sight would be restored.
President Benson did not speak at the priesthood meeting that evening, though he was on the stand. During the first few talks, I directed the gaze of my blinded eye (if you can call it a gaze) directly at President Benson.
Initially, nothing happened, but I was undaunted. Hoping that decreasing the distance to the prophet would increase the possibility that a miracle would occur, I inched forward in my seat, leaned my entire body over the balcony, and gazed even more intensely at the stand.
Now, I really would like nothing more than to relate to you an inspiring account of how my faith was rewarded and my vision miraculously restored. But it didn’t happen that night in Salt Lake nor in the days that followed. In fact, even today, I still have vision in only one eye.[14]
Thankfully, what I can see is how Heavenly Father has provided me with everything I need to live with the consequences of the accident. Some of my other senses became more acute, which helped me compensate. I was given divine courage to try things I didn’t think I could do. Most importantly, I received confirmation that this physical limitation does not define my worth or limit my ability to contribute to the Lord’s work. We all have challenges that remain with us throughout this life. I know from personal experience that the Lord will strengthen us in our trials so that we are able to “bear up our burdens”[15] in a determined and cheerful way.

I recently read the account of some deacons who got a little careless in their attitude towards passing the sacrament. They began to think of it as a chore, something that no one else wanted to do. They often came in late, and sometimes they didn’t dress appropriately. One Sunday their priesthood adviser told them: “You don’t have to worry about the sacrament today. It’s been taken care of.”
They were, of course, surprised to hear this, but as usual, they were late for sacrament meeting. They slipped in casually during the opening hymn and sat in the congregation. That’s when they noticed who was sitting on the deacons’ bench—their adviser and the high priests of the ward, who included men who had served as bishops and stake president. They were all dressed in dark suits with white shirts and ties. But more than that, their bearing was one of total reverence as they took the sacrament trays from row to row. Something was deeper and more significant about the sacrament that day. Those deacons who had become so perfunctory in their duties learned by example that passing the sacrament was a sacred trust and one of the greatest of honors. They began to realize that the priesthood is, as the Apostle Peter called it, “a royal priesthood.”

The main physical goal I’ve had over the past few years has been to run in a mountain race near Colorado Springs. It is called the Pikes Peak Ascent and is a 13.32-mile race up the Pikes Peak mountain trail. The elevation gain is 7,815 feet and the finish is at approximately 14,050 feet, with the average grade being 11 percent. I love this race and have competed in it 13 of the past 16 years. I give credit to Jim Lamph, who encouraged me repeatedly to try it, and to Shane Cole for running it with me.

The first year I didn’t know what to expect, so I trained hard, running on dirt roads around Rexburg and on treadmills at a steep incline for hours each week. My focus was to be able to finish the race and to put my whole heart into it. It seemed to be on my mind every day as I made decisions on the best way to train and how to be healthy. My eating habits improved as did my sleep patterns. I trained the best way I knew how up until the week of the race. When we finally arrived in Manitou Springs and I looked up at the mountain from the starting line, it was hard to fathom that the next morning we would be running up the trail, all the way to the summit. This picture shows the starting line with me and Shane getting ready to run. Five minutes before the gun start, they had a performer sing “America the Beautiful,” and as I listened I imagined the view from the top that had inspired Katharine Lee to pen the words to the song. About four hours later I finished the race and took in the fabulous view. I was thrilled and happy and completely satisfied with my best efforts, even though I had walked some of the steeper parts and was far behind the overall winner.

During a trip to the Mediterranean, I diligently attended Church meetings wherever I could. In Seville, Spain, I enlisted the aid of a hotel receptionist, the local telephone directory, and a city map to help me find the local Latter-day Saint meetinghouse. I wrote down the address and the name of the Church in Spanish. Saturday evening I prayed to know what time the meetings started, and I felt a strong impression that I needed to be there by 10:00 a.m.
Just before I left for church at 9:30 on Sunday morning, I prayed again that I would be able to find the meetinghouse. Following my map, I began to navigate a maze of narrow streets. It was a delightful morning. I passed cafés and a bird market full of squawking birds.
I made it to the designated address only to find nothing that remotely resembled a church. I walked up and down the street looking in vain. I was confused and anxious, and it was almost 10:00 a.m.
Finally, I prayed to my Father in Heaven: “Thou hast commanded me to go to church, and here I am, but there’s no church here.”
Just then a well-dressed man in a suit came around the corner. He looked like a member of the Church, and I felt impressed to stop him. In a somewhat garbled manner, I told him I was looking for a church. He said something I didn’t understand, and I looked perplexed. So he opened his briefcase, and I saw two leather-bound books that looked like scriptures. I handed him my slip of paper on which I had written “La Iglesia de Jesucristo” (The Church of Jesus Christ). He smiled and pointed back along the way I had come, and together we walked to church. The building was located at a different address just a few minutes away and was easy to miss if you didn’t know it was there. It was set back in a small square, behind large gates.
At the meetinghouse I soon found out that the man who had helped me was none other than the bishop of the ward and that the meetings began at 10:30 a.m. I had arrived with time to spare.
During the ward’s fast and testimony meeting, I felt impressed to bear my testimony. With a missionary translating my words from English into Spanish, I bore my testimony and described how the Lord had provided a way for me to get to church. The bishop then bore his testimony and explained that he had to park farther away that morning, so he was later than normal. When he saw me, he thought I looked like a member of the Church, so he stopped to help me. He then spoke of members who are lost spiritually and said we have to help them find the Church.
Over the years my memories of the sights of Seville have faded, but my memory of finding the church there hasn’t. That memory is a testimony to me of the great love our Father in Heaven has for us and that His hand is visible in my life if I just look for all the things that “work together for [my] good” (Romans 8:28).

Several people who lived in Kirtland during the temple-building period have left us their accounts. One was Mary Elizabeth Rollins Lightner, then a young convert. She and her mother were ­living in Kirtland, and when she discovered the whereabouts of one of the rare copies of the Book of Mormon in that city, she went to the owner’s home and asked to borrow it. He agreed, and she read it so avidly that he let her retain it for that purpose. About the time she finished reading it, the Prophet visited her home and, seeing the book on the shelf, recognized it as the one he had given to the present owner, Brother Morley. He was most impressed by young Mary, gave her a blessing, and told her to keep the book—he would give Brother Morley another copy.

Mary and her mother went a few evenings later to the Smith home, where others were already assembled. Soon Joseph came in and they held a meeting, the people mostly sitting on boards put across chairs. The Prophet began addressing the group, but after a while he stopped speaking and remained silent. His countenance changed, and he became so white that he seemed transparent. He stood looking intently over the congregation. Finally he spoke. “Do you know who has been in your midst tonight?” Someone said, “An angel of the Lord.” And Martin Harris said, “I know, it was our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.” The Prophet put his hand on his head and said, “Martin, God revealed that to you. Brothers and Sisters, the Savior has been in your midst tonight. I want you all to remember it. There is a veil over your eyes, for you could not endure to look upon Him.”

Then they knelt in prayer, which he led. His prayer was so long, Mary records, that several of the people rose and rested and then knelt back down to endure to the end. “Such a prayer,” she said, “I have never heard before or since. I felt he was talking to the Lord, and the power rested upon us all.”

Later the Prophet gave a blessing to this dear sister. She became one of the faithful who in her ninety-plus years of life endured incredible trials for the faith.

In 1964, I had finished my courses at LDS Business College, graduated, attended a year at BYU, served a mission to Denver, Colorado, and returned home to re-enter BYU. I've met and dated many fine young women but I'm confused, I can't seem to find the "right one." One afternoon in the bedroom of a rented home on 7th north in Provo, I really feel the need to offer a significant prayer to Heavenly Father. I'm all alone in the house. I kneel down and this time, which has not happened that many times in my life, I said a vocal prayer, reverently but out loud. I really poured out my heart. I ask Heavenly Father to lead me to my future eternal companion. I have not been able to find her and would He lead me to her. I covenant to stay extremely clean and pure in thoughts and actions, to be morally clean in every way, to keep the highest standards of dating, and to show respect to all young women I date; and to keep ALL the commandments of Heavenly Father to the best of my ability. He hears my prayer and covenant. Within six months, in a J.C. Penney shoe department, my beautiful future companion walks into my life. We date for three months, get engaged, have a four-month courtship and marry August 19, 1965. During our courtship, we never do anything inappropriate. In fact, I am so committed to my covenant with Heavenly Father that we do not kiss on the lips until the sealer in the Arizona Temple tells us "you may now kiss as man and wife." And I gave her a big one! I had waited a long time for that.

I'm so grateful for that covenant.

The Young Women and mothers from the San Antonio Eighth Ward, San Antonio Texas Stake, took a step back into time to the days of the Old West. The group scheduled an overnight outing to a reconstructed western town complete with covered wagons and a jail. After the girls cooked dinner for their mothers, they had a special campfire meeting. The following day, they combined a nature study with a service project to clean up the area. Competition in camping skills between mother-daughter teams added to the fun. The outing concluded with a trail ride. Both girls and mothers found that they had come to know each other a little better.

Now, once you receive it, be obedient to the promptings you receive. I learned a sobering lesson as a mission president. I was also a General Authority. I had been prompted several times, for the good of the work, to release one of my counselors. Besides praying about it, I had reasoned that it was the right thing to do. But I did not do it. I feared that it would injure a man who had given long service to the Church.
The Spirit withdrew from me. I could get no promptings on who should be called as a counselor should I release him. It lasted for several weeks. My prayers seemed to be contained within the room where I offered them. I tried a number of alternate ways to arrange the work, but to no avail. Finally, I did as I was bidden to do by the Spirit. Immediately, the gift returned! Oh, the exquisite sweetness to have the gift again. You know it, for you have it, the gift of the Holy Ghost. And the brother was not injured, indeed he was greatly blessed and immediately thereafter the work prospered.

Patti Zenger, a member of the Beacon Hill Ward, Beaverton Oregon West Stake, will never forget September 26, 1998.
Patti, partially blind from diabetes, had no idea that Laura Schulthies had organized their ward to “Walk for Patti Z.” in the Vancouver, Washington, 10K fund-raiser.
When Patti got to the church, everyone was wearing red, her favorite color, and had “Patti, We All Love You” signs pinned on them.
“It was so exciting to watch Patti realize how many ward members supported her. Ours was the largest group there,” Laura recalls.

He was too young to remember when they had crossed the plains in the covered wagon to Utah. Louisa remembered, though.

“Mother and Father packed our clothes, quilts, pots and pans, dishes, food, and everything else they could into the wagon. I put in my doll and helped with some of the smaller things. Father hitched the oxen to the wagon and we started on our long journey. I’d never seen oxen before. They looked like big brown cows to me.”

“What about the sea gulls, Louisa?” Thomas didn’t like to hear about the hard times they had traveling to their new home in the mountains.

“When we first came to Utah, I helped Father and Mother plant the seeds in the ground. It took Father two days to break the hard ground before we could plant the seeds. All day we worked and dropped a seed at a time on the ground.”

“Where was I?” asked Thomas.

“You wouldn’t remember because you were only a baby then and had just learned to walk,” Louisa answered quietly. “Anyway, when the new plants were just coming up, about this high,” Louisa measured with her fingers, “some crickets came and began eating them. More and more crickets came.”

“What are crickets?”

“Thomas, you know what crickets are. They are those shiny black bugs. They scrape their wings together to make a squeaky sound at night,” Louisa answered.

“Oh. Tell me about the sea gulls.”

Louisa began her story again. “Everyone got sticks and shovels and whatever they could find and began beating the crickets. But more crickets came. Finally, the people gave up. They couldn’t kill all the crickets. They were going to eat up all the food we planted.”

“When did the sea gulls come?” Thomas asked.

“Father and Mother and the rest of the people prayed to our Heavenly Father that the crops would be saved from the hungry crickets. And it wasn’t long until we were surprised to hear a noise in the sky. I looked up and saw sea gulls. At first they looked like more crickets. I hadn’t seen any sea gulls here before, although I used to watch them on the ocean before we came west in the wagon.”

“The sea gulls came to the ground and ate up the crickets,” Louisa continued. “No one had really noticed them in the valley before. Some people say they were here all the time. But I think Heavenly Father sent them to us when the people prayed. What do you think, Thomas?”

On June 10, 1953, my wife and I had the privilege of being married in the Salt Lake Temple. After President Harold B. Lee, then an apostle, concluded the beautiful ceremony, he had us stand in the center of the sealing room. Looking to the left into the mirrors that reflect off one another to show hundreds of images, he said, “On the left are the eternities you came from, and on the right the eternities to which you are going.” We looked and could see our images. Then he brought our thoughts back to the sealing room where we were and said, “This is like the world. It is but one step to all the eternities.” We were lovingly advised to stay true to the commitments of chastity, to obey the law of sacrifice and the law of consecration whereby we give all of our time, talents, and everything with which we are blessed to the service of the Lord. Then he said, “Make sure you understand that an argument never solves problems. As you stand here today, commit yourselves to having and expressing love and appreciation for each other.” It was a great teaching moment in our lives that we have never forgotten.

My siblings and I grew up believing in God, but our family wasn’t religious. We did our own thing and didn’t bother to learn about our purpose on earth.
When a few relatives died, I wondered if I would ever see them again. I remembered my grandfather warning us not to sleep too much because when we die, we sleep forever, and it got me curious. Was death just a dark place of eternal sleep?
As my soul searched for the answer to what happens after death, a neighbour—a former bishop for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—sent missionaries to us. They taught my sister, Fiasili, and me the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and introduced us to the plan of salvation, which finally answered all my questions about death.
Fiasili and I were soon baptised. She was 13 years old and I was 12.
Our parents were happy for us to join the Church, but they wanted no part of it. My sister and I tried our best to regularly attend church meetings, but it wasn’t easy, especially with competing influences in our home. For example, we often had to choose between going to sacrament meeting and spending Sunday at the beach with our family.
But Fiasili and I worked to strengthen each other’s testimonies. We thought that if our parents could just accept the gospel, we wouldn’t have to live in two worlds. So, we invited the missionaries to teach them. In the process, our younger brother—and many of our cousins who lived with us—joined the Church.
It took a little longer for my parents. My sister was serving a full-time mission in Suva, Fiji, when our mother finally got baptised. Our father had actually been a less active member for many years, and it was such a joy to see them both start coming to church with us.
In 2019 I was called to the Philippines Quezon City Mission. Serving there was like living a dream—I’d always loved the Filipino culture and really wanted to learn Tagalog. But my missionary experience also taught me the true nature of our heavenly parents, and when I returned home to Samoa last year, I felt a strong desire to see my family sealed to each other for time and all eternity.
We have some work to do before we can achieve that goal. My parents are still new to the gospel and continue to learn. My brother is still finding his path, exploring if a mission is in his future. Fiasili and I continue to persevere. We are determined to “press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men” (2 Nephi 31:20), as we strive to help deepen our family’s conversion.
I sometimes wonder how my siblings and I found the gospel and have stayed committed all these years, especially without our parents. I now realise that our Heavenly Father has been guiding us all along. Even through our challenges, we have felt His hand in each of our lives, and I know that—just as He did for the Jaredites in Ether 2:7—He will not rest before we have reached the beautiful shores of that promised land prepared for us.

I remember a day when I was serving as Young Women President when sharing some loaves of bread carried me through some struggles. After first getting on my knees and praying fervently for answers and strength to deal with my problems, I felt impressed to rise to my feet and make a dozen little loaves of whole wheat bread to take with me to the office. Each time I gave one away, the recipient opened his or her heart and shared some tender feelings. A secretary said, “How did you know it was my birthday; no one else has remembered me.” A much admired general authority lamented, “Some days I wish I had at least one thing like making bread, that I could do well.” The parents of an open-heart surgery patient confided, “Let us share with you the priesthood miracles involved with this surgery for our daughter.” An executive director said, “I will give this to my wife who is sitting each day in the hospital with our daughter who has leukemia.” Another leader reminisced, “This brings my mother back to me, because she too made bread.” These little experiences leavened my day with the spirit and carried me through that day. My burdens had been lifted. I felt happy.

My husband and I had the great blessing of reading the Book of Mormon together the first month of our mission in Portugal. We had started at home in SLC with the specific purpose of allowing the Lord to teach us through his words what he would have us do with not only our missionaries but also the members and members to be. Those first few weeks in the mission were discouraging. Our Portuguese was woefully lacking, our spirits were sagging and we felt inadequate in every way. We had so many questions – from how to drive to our 29 units of the church on roads built before the time of Christ, to how to best teach the gospel to so many anxious learners. But as we read Moroni’s promise that “by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things,” we felt a peace and confirmation that the Lord knew of our weaknesses. We knew if we put our trust in Him completely, he would qualify us, he would help us do His work.
How grateful to have had this illumination. We need to hold fast to these moments throughout our lives. They don’t come daily. This particular moment came as Cal and I were praying and reading the words of the Lord for answers to questions we didn’t even know how to articulate.