Gospel Story Finder

When I was 17, living in West Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA, the missionaries taught my family about Joseph Smith’s First Vision. Young Joseph’s desire to communicate with God and know His will resonated deeply with my own desires.
As the missionaries taught us about living prophets and apostles, I asked, “There are Apostles today? Where are they?” They showed us a picture of President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985), his counselors in the First Presidency, and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in 1980. This strengthened my sprouting testimony that God, who is the same yesterday, today, and forever, still needed prophets and apostles to guide His children in modern times.
Over time, both my parents and all 10 children were baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Since coming to know living prophets and apostles, my testimony of their sacred calling and keys has only grown stronger.

My physical disability has made my life difficult and sometimes discouraging. My early teen years were especially trying because I encountered some unpleasant prejudices. In May 1989, when I was 13 years old, a high school in our town rejected my application simply because of my physical handicap, which confines me to a wheelchair. Then, in my first year of secondary school, one of my teachers gave me a disappointing grade. I felt it was because of my physical disability.
At the time I didn’t know how to accept these kinds of unpleasant events in my life, nor did I know how to thank Heavenly Father for the lessons they teach me. But through prayer and scripture study, I have discovered that I can be grateful even with these afflictions and, at the same time, be good to those people who reject and discourage me.
As I read the words of the Apostle Paul in 2 Corinthians 12:7–10, I found that he compared his own adversity to “the messenger of Satan to buffet” him. He prayed that the Lord would remove his affliction, but instead he was told, “My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.”
Over the years, I have felt my Savior’s encouragement; it has made me realize His great sufficiency over my physical weakness.
On 27 March 1993 I graduated from high school with an honorable mention. Our mayor offered me a job at the city hall. While working, I was able to finish my career course in journalism.
Dealing with my physical disability and afflictions will never be easy. But I know that through my faith and determination and the Lord’s inspiration I may be able to say, like the Apostle Paul, “When I am weak, then am I strong” (2 Cor. 12:10).

The importance of not mistreating others is highlighted in an anecdote about Hillel the Elder, a Jewish scholar who lived in the first century before Christ. One of Hillel’s students was exasperated by the complexity of the Torah—the five books of Moses with their 613 commandments and associated rabbinic writings. The student challenged Hillel to explain the Torah using only the time that Hillel could stand on one foot. Hillel may not have had great balance but accepted the challenge. He quoted from Leviticus, saying, “Thou shalt not avenge, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.” Hillel then concluded: “That which is hateful unto you, do not do to your neighbor. This is the whole of the Torah; the rest is commentary. Go forth and study.”

The week before Christmas, my mom’s friend found out that she was very sick and had to stay in the hospital for a long time. She would be in the hospital at Christmas and away from her family. My mom asked me how I felt about letting her friend borrow my little pink Christmas tree that I keep in my room. Even though I knew I would miss my tree, I wanted to give a special gift to our friend so she wouldn’t feel lonely on Christmas. I wanted to be like Jesus.

The youth of the Bountiful Utah Central Stake were planning a youth conference for the first week in June. They were planning some exciting events right in their own area. They planned a day at a water slide, an evening barbecue, a day of workshops, a dance, and more. It was going to be great fun. But the week before their youth conference, mud slides and floodwaters had inundated dozens of homes in Bountiful. It didn’t seem quite right to be planning an activity when so many people needed help. The youth decided to cancel their youth conference and offer their time and strength in helping their neighbors.
Julie Merrill, Lisa and Lori Dearden, Michelle Reading, Jim Summers, Bob Foster, Betsy Ann Wiscombe, and Adam Birmingham and nearly 100 percent of the youth in their wards turned out dressed in old clothes and with shovels over their shoulders to be assigned a home to help clean. This group was shown to a home where mud had filled the bottom level.
At first the group gingerly waded into the mud careful not to get too much on their clothes, but as bucket after bucket was filled and lifted in a bucket brigade out of the house, they didn’t hesitate to get dirty. As the group was working, one boy called out, “I know a song we should sing. We should sing, ‘Give Said the Little Stream.’” His suggestion was met with groans. The heavy mud started to take its toll on young muscles, but their good spirits won out. Someone missed the bucket with a shovelful of mud. Another retaliated, and soon everyone was yelling to stop the mud fight, but since everyone was already covered, it did little damage.
The youth went back the next day and the next until the home they were working on was as clean as they could get it and ready for reconstruction work.
How did they feel about shoveling mud instead of having fun at their youth conference? Julie Merrill said, “It was nice to help other people. I was worn out, but I felt like I was helping. I didn’t really mind the change of plans.” Lori Dearden actually preferred the change of plans. “I’m still a Beehive so I couldn’t go to some of the joint activities at the youth conference, so I didn’t mind the change of plans. It was hard work, but we were really excited to finally see the floor. We left it really clean with all the walls washed down. It felt good to help.”

When I was 11 years old, my older brother and I each got a sled for Christmas. When the first snowfall finally came, one steep road in our town was covered with ice. It seemed like all the children in town gathered at the top of that hill with their sleds.
My older brother and I had contests to see who could go the farthest. Since he was bigger, he always won. A friend suggested something I could do to beat my brother—he handed me a block of wax and told me to rub it on the runners of my sled.
As I took the block of wax, I could feel the Spirit telling me I shouldn’t use it. I thought it might be cheating, and it was also dangerous. These thoughts gave me an uneasy feeling in my stomach and in my heart. But then I thought, It’s all right just this once. I deserve to win sometimes. No one will know. So I put a thick coat of wax on the runners of my sled.
As I started down the hill, my sled quickly picked up speed. Soon I lost control. I saw that I was headed toward a car parked on the side of the road, and nothing I could do would turn the sled. I rolled off onto the ice, hoping to avoid the crash, but it was no use. My sled hit the front wheel, and my left leg hit the back one.
I spent the next eight weeks in a cast from my mid-chest to the tips of my toes on my left side. I recovered well and have enjoyed a full and active life. But my left leg is just a little shorter than my right leg. This reminds me how important it is to follow the promptings of the Spirit. I learned from this experience that when I get the feeling that I shouldn’t do something, I must follow that inspired feeling without delay.

Young Joan of Arc, one of the greatest heroines in history, became the unlikely standard-bearer for the French army in the Dark Ages, long before the gospel was restored. Joan had the Light of Christ and also the courage to follow its promptings and make a difference. Joan was a peasant girl who could neither read nor write. Long years of war had impoverished and divided her country. At 17, sensing her life had a purpose, she left home, determined to help liberate her oppressed country. People scoffed at her ideas and thought she was a little crazy, but in the end she persuaded them to let her have a horse and an escort to go and see the king.
Young King Charles VII had heard about Joan and decided to test her. He slipped into the ranks of the army and let one of his trusted associates occupy the throne. When Joan came into the room, she barely acknowledged the man on the throne, but promptly walked up to Charles and curtsied to him. This so impressed the king that he gave her command over his 12,000 troops. At first the French soldiers did not want to obey her, but when they saw that all who followed her succeeded and all who disregarded her failed, they came to look upon her as their leader.
Clad in a suit of white armor and flying her own standard, Joan of Arc liberated the besieged city of Orleans in 1429 and defeated the English in four other battles. Twice she was wounded, but each time she recovered and went on fighting. Her orders seemed to be those of a military genius.
She was captured by English allies and burned at the stake in 1431. Although this is a sad ending, it does not take away from Joan’s greatness. She was courageous enough to follow the personal inspiration to which all of us are entitled.

James’s favorite Primary song is “Book of Mormon Stories,”** because it’s about learning the scripture stories. James and Jessa now have the scriptures and wonderful teachers, friends, and family who help them learn about Jesus Christ and His church. For both children, this was a real comfort when they moved to a new country and had to learn a new language. James even remembers hiding in the bushes because he was so scared and lonely when he first moved. Now both he and Jessa are confident and happy, and they know that they are loved by many.

A friend told me of an instance when she was inconsolable. She felt such sorrow over a family tragedy that on one day she could not even leave her home. Unannounced, a Relief Society sister came to her door and said, “I had the feeling you needed me.” The sister did not probe or ask for details but rather enfolded my friend in her arms and asked, “Would you like to have a prayer?” After their prayer the sister left. That kind touch and sensitive approach did much to heal my friend’s broken heart.
This loving Relief Society sister not only listened to the Spirit, but she acted upon that prompting. In a real sense, she showed that the virtue found in the doctrines of salvation had touched her so profoundly that she worked daily to be Christlike. Her actions reflected her personal understanding that “charity never faileth.”

I have always been a naturally shy person around people I don’t know very well. While I am outgoing and loud around my friends and family, I clam up around others. The summer before my sophomore year, my two best friends moved out of the state.
School started, and it seemed as if Satan knew my weakness and set out to intensify it. I had a group to hang out with at school but didn’t feel included. I figured everyone noticed how often I was alone. I became insecure about my status at school.
One night before bed, I was reading in Ether 12. I love the scriptures, because I so often come across answers to my prayers. That night was no different. I read verse 27: “And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.” I had read this scripture mastery verse before but never had it been such a direct answer to my many prayers.
Tears filled my eyes. I knew that what I felt was my desire to come unto Christ. Suddenly I understood that the Lord had a plan for me. I also realized that the Lord wanted to help me make good friends. If I just had humility and faith, the Lord would help make my weakness a strength. As He said to Moroni in verse 37, “And because thou hast seen thy weakness thou shalt be made strong.”
Lately I have seen how the Lord has kept His promise. I realized that it doesn’t matter where I stand on the high school social ladder, because Heavenly Father loves me for who I am. That is the most humbling thing about it all. He has billions of children, but I know that He loves us individually, for our own unique qualities. How grateful I am for the lesson I learned that night and for all the peace and serenity that comes with knowing God lives, He loves us individually, and He wants to help His children. I love Him with all my heart.

When my seminary class discussed anything that had to do with the hereafter, from spirit prison to sealed couples being sorted into their degrees of glory together, my stomach started to do somersaults. I won’t lie—I do worry about where my family will fit in after death. I try to trust in the knowledge that God is good and that my dad is good, but right now, there’s a gap in our family’s eternal future. We simply don’t know what will happen.

Tip: Show empathy for others. Families with less-active members aren’t the only people who deal with this, but it can be emotionally taxing, especially in Church settings. When I share my concerns, I’m not looking for answers—I’m just looking for empathy, for someone to agree that this is hard sometimes.
I eventually realized that I could soften a negative discussion by piping up and saying, “Oh, I disagree. My dad is less active, and …” Almost immediately, people’s comments became kinder, and many even backtracked on their previous insensitive statements.

Tip: A good rule of thumb in Church discussions is to assume that no matter what you’re discussing, someone in your group has experienced it, is experiencing it, or will experience it—or they have a loved one who is going through it. Once people knew about my family situation, they were much gentler. They knew that, to me, this wasn’t just a conversation about less-active or disaffected members—this was about my father.

All of this boils down to what we already know and what we are taught: be empathetic and loving. Elder W. Craig Zwick, an emeritus General Authority Seventy, said: “The willingness to see through each other’s eyes will transform ‘corrupt communication’ into ‘minister[ing] grace.’ … It may not change or solve the problem, but the more important possibility may be whether ministering grace could change us.”1

Mortality means we all end up in unique circumstances. And whatever those circumstances are, we can always be accepting and kind to all. My family is a part of my unique mortal journey, and I love them as they are. But I do have hope that Heavenly Father will help everything work out for our eternal family in the end.

Recently I was on assignment in Mozambique. The citizens of this beautiful country are struggling with poverty, poor health, unemployment, storms, and political unrest. I had the honor of meeting with the country’s president, Filipe Nyusi. At his request, I prayed for him and his nation; I told him we were building a temple of Jesus Christ in his country. At the end of our visit, I presented to him a copy of the Book of Mormon in Portuguese, his native language. As he gratefully accepted the book, I testified of the hope and promise for his people, found in the Lord’s words on its pages.

My mother was a recent convert to the Church when she was called to be the Relief Society president in our small branch in San Salvador. She told the branch president that she was inexperienced, unprepared, and inadequate. She was in her 30s, had very little formal education, and her whole life had been devoted to the care of her husband and seven children. But the branch president called her anyway.
I watched my mother rise to the occasion. While serving, she learned leadership skills and developed new gifts such as teaching, public speaking, and planning and organizing meetings, activities, and service projects. She influenced the women in the branch. She served them and taught them to serve one another. The sisters loved and respected her. She helped other women to discover, use, and develop gifts and talents; she helped them become builders of the kingdom and of strong, spiritual families. She stayed faithful to the temple covenants she made. When she passed away, she was at peace with her Maker.
A sister who served with her as a counselor in the Relief Society wrote me a letter years later: “Your mother was the person who taught me the way to become what I am now. From her, I learned charity, kindness, honesty, and responsibility in our callings. She was my mentor and my example. I am now 80 years old, but I have stayed faithful to the Savior and His gospel. I have served a mission, and the Lord has blessed me greatly.”

One day in July 1989, I was sitting in my office in Tarawa, Kiribati, pondering my ministering responsibilities when a strong impression came to my mind telling me to go to the hospital. It was strange, but I knew the peaceful voice was from the Spirit. I decided to act upon the prompting without delay.
As I was preparing to leave, a former missionary companion, Founuku Kitiona, came by just as I needed him. I asked if he would accompany me to the hospital.
“Someone sick?” he asked. I told him, “I don’t know, I just had this strong feeling that we should go there.”
As we drove up to the hospital, fifteen minutes away, I didn’t know what to expect. It reminded me of the words of Nephi when the Lord told him to return to Jerusalem to obtain the brass plates, “And I was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do.”8
We arrived at the hospital and noticed a white van parked in front of the emergency room. It belonged to Elder and Sister Trethowan, a wonderful and faithful senior missionary couple from Australia. We wondered why it was there!
As we walked into the emergency room, we saw Elder Trethowan on a bed, half conscious and perspiring! His wife was kneeling on the floor beside him, praying.
They had been there for almost an hour waiting for assistance. She was desperate, but never gave up hope for heavenly intervention. You can imagine her relief, at least, when she saw us. “Thank you, brethren. God answered my prayers,” she said.
At that moment, I knew why the Lord sent us there. We laid our hands on Elder Trethowan’s head and gave him a priesthood blessing.
A moment later, several nurses and a doctor arrived. After examining him, the doctor told us that the missionary had a serious heart condition and needed to be admitted.
Knowing the limited medical facilities on the island, I immediately returned to my office and called the area office for advice. The immediate response was to get Elder Trethowan on the next flight out of the country. The problem was, there was only one international flight a week, and the flight for that week had already gone.
As I wrestled further with the issue, the Spirit whispered to my mind again to “go to the travel office.” I left immediately and got there just before the office closed.
I enquired about flights and was surprised to learn about a special flight leaving for Honolulu the very next day. I immediately booked the couple on that flight.
The next morning the couple left Tarawa and landed in Honolulu a few hours later. Elder Trethowan was taken directly to a hospital where he received medical procedures which miraculously saved his life.
A few years later, I was thrilled to see Brother Trethowan at the Sydney Australia Temple. He was in excellent health and he and his wife continued to serve the Lord there as temple ordinance workers. He told me that if he had not left the island on that flight, his mortal life would have ended there.

I am a missionary recovering from an accident and am in the Royal Perth Hospital in Western Australia. I began to feel quite alone and separated from missionary work until one of the nurses who is a Mormon brought some New Eras for me to read. All I can say is thank you for the spiritual nourishment this special magazine provides. It has given me an extra incentive to convert the youth of Australia and bring them to a realization of the eternal truths embodied in this latter-day literature. Days in the hospital aren’t so mundane now!
Elder Anthony WellerAustralia Perth Mission

Johanan carried his goatskin down to the well. After waiting for his turn, he very carefully filled the skin. Every drop was important in their dry country, especially now that the Roman soldiers blocked the gates of the city. He carried the heavy skin back to his home. As he passed the big olive tree that fed them, he poured a little of the water on the young seedling that was sheltered in its shade. Then he filled a small jug with water and walked to the city wall where his father was standing guard. He was proud that his father was chosen to be one of the watchmen. Johanan climbed the ladder and handed his father the jug.
It was hot on the wall, and Father smiled at him, then drank deeply. “Thank you. I was very thirsty.”
Johanan smiled back. He turned to look out over the wall. Before him camped the mighty armies of the Romans. He gazed with a horrible fascination at the men milling below. They were like ants swarming around the bottom of a gigantic anthill. And Jerusalem was the anthill! “Father,” he whispered, “what is going to happen to us?”
His father put his arm around him and pulled him away from the wall. “We will be fine. We have the Lord’s promise that if we watch and follow His warning, we will be saved.”
“But look, Father,” the boy argued, pointing to the men, “there are thousands of them. They have chariots and battering rams. What can we do?”
“Be prepared,” Father answered. “That’s what the Savior told us to do—be prepared.”
Johanan walked slowly back home. He always felt afraid after looking over the wall. It took all his faith to stop that fear. He stopped at the olive tree and sat beneath its shade. He looked at the seedling and wondered if he would see it bear fruit.
Sounds of shouting reached his ears. He saw a group of boys playing in the street. He longed to join them, but he knew that they didn’t want to play with him. He was a Christian, and they were not. Whenever he came close to where they played, they threw stones at him and taunted, “Where’s your Jesus now? Why doesn’t He save you from the Romans?”
Getting up, Johanan wandered into the house and looked for Grandmother. Her presence always soothed him. He sat beside her and watched her skillful fingers weave goat-hair yarn into cloth.
“Hello, Johanan.” She glanced down at his troubled face. “Did you take water to your father?”
He nodded.
“I see. What is it like to see all of Cestius Gallus’s men?”
“Terrible. Many soldiers are out there.”
“It will be all right,” she soothed. She continued her rhythmic weaving for a few moments, then stopped. “How long has it been since I told you about the time I saw the Savior?”
“Many months.”
“Then listen again.” After a pause, she quietly began her story. “When I was a small child, word reached us that a great man was coming to preach in our city. Soon a crowd of people gathered right below the temple.
“My parents thought that I was too young to be in such crowds, so they left me home with my brother, Jesse.”
Johanan nodded in understanding. His parents left him home with his little sisters on market day.
“Jesse wanted to go,” Grandmother continued, “so he swore me to secrecy and we walked toward the crowds. We wriggled our way through the people until we could see Him. We stood still, just staring at Him.”
“What was He like?” Johanan asked earnestly.
“He was like other men—He had two eyes and one nose—yet He was very different. I knew when I saw Him that He loved me and everyone there. I felt something special, a kind of reverence.”
Johanan sighed, “I wish I could have seen Him.”
Grandmother nodded. “One by one He took the children from the multitude and blessed them. Jesse and I walked forward. Soon His arms were around me, and He talked to me. I don’t remember what He said. I remember that I knew that He was the Savior.”
They sat quietly thinking for several minutes before Grandmother looked down at her weaving and picked up the shuttle again. “Don’t worry, my son. He told us what to do.”
Johanan, too, knew the prophecies. When the signs were right, they would leave their home and flee Jerusalem. He looked at the bags and goatskins stacked in the corner. His family was ready to leave whenever the time came.
That afternoon he was herding the goats into the corral when his father walked swiftly up the path, calling to him. “Come, Johanan! Hurry!”
Johanan ran toward his father.
Father gathered the family together. “It is time. I don’t understand why, but Gallus has removed his men from the walls. If we go quietly, I think that he will let us leave. You all know what to do,” Father said. “Now hurry.”
Johanan ran to all their Christian neighbors to make sure that they knew that it was time to leave.
People laden with bags and baskets began streaming out of their houses.
“Where are you going?” one man called out. “You’re not leaving? You cannot. The soldiers will kill you. It’s safer to stay here behind the walls.”
His father stopped and called to him, “Come with us. It’s the only safe thing to do!”
The neighbor waved his hand in disgust. “You Christians—you’re all crazy!”
“Please come!” Father pleaded again, but the man just turned his back.
Johanan remembered how hard his father had worked the past few months to warn everyone that the time to flee was close at hand. Few had listened to him.
“We can do no more,” Father now said sadly. He gathered the family together and joined the rest of the Saints as they poured out through the gates of the city.
They walked as rapidly as they could. Grandmother was having trouble keeping up, so they slowed their pace. It was growing dark by the time they climbed a small rise above Jerusalem. Stopping to rest, they turned to look at their city one last time. Johanan had thought he’d feel sadness to leave his home. Instead, he felt a great joy because his family was safe and all together.
As they watched, the armies of Gallus closed ranks and Jerusalem was encircled once again.
Silently the family turned and began to walk. Johanan stayed close to his grandmother in case she needed him. His heart felt very full. He felt his testimony of Jesus Christ growing. His family had been saved because they had listened to and believed His message.
Grandmother had seen and touched Him. Johanan knew, without seeing, that Jesus was the Christ. He knew because the Holy Ghost whispered it to him.

I grew up in a small country town in Idaho. Football came to our school later than most. It was 1923. We had neither equipment nor a coach. But the great day arrived when our high school principal was able to buy twelve inexpensive football outfits—but not football shoes with cleats. We used our basketball shoes. Our chemistry teacher was recruited to be our coach because he had once witnessed a real game.

He taught us a few simple plays and how to tackle, and then we were ready to play—or so we thought. We set off for our first game with Twin Falls, the previous year’s Idaho state champions.

We dressed and went out on the field to warm up. Their school band started to play (they had more students in the band than we had in our entire high school), and then through the gates came their team. They kept coming and coming, all thirty-nine of them, fully equipped and shoes with cleats. The twelve of us, a full team of eleven plus one all-round substitute, watched in amazement.

The game was most interesting! To say it was a learning experience is rather mild. After just two plays, we had no desire to have the ball, so we kicked it and they scored. Whenever they got the ball, they would run a baffling play and score. Our goal was to get rid of the ball—it was less punishing.

In the final minutes of the game, they became a little reckless and a wild pass fell into the arms of Clifford Lee, who was playing halfback with me. He was startled, not knowing for sure what to do—that is, until he saw them thundering after him. Then he knew what to do and boy, was he fast! But he wasn’t running for points; he was running for his life! Clifford made a touchdown. Six points went up on the scoreboard. The final score—106 to 6! We really didn’t deserve the six points, but with our bloody shirts and socks and cuts and bruises, we took them anyway.

A learning experience? Of course! An individual or a team must be prepared. Success or achievement depends upon preparation.

Edevanir Leopoldino of the São Paulo Brazil São Miguel Paulista Stake remembers a family home evening that changed his life. He was 16 years old and not a member of the Church when he stopped at his friend Leandro’s house to see if Leandro wanted to attend a local dance. His friend instead invited Edevanir to share in his family home evening. Not sure what to expect, Edevanir reluctantly agreed to take part.
Of the evening, Edevanir writes, “It was great!” Leandro’s brother was going on a mission, so the family home evening was a going-away party. Edevanir recalls: “The Spirit of the Lord touched me in such a way that I felt a warmth inside me so strongly that I didn’t know what to do, and I felt a joy so grand that I could no longer feel alone.
“After that family home evening I began the missionary discussions and soon was baptized. The following year I was called to serve in the Brazil Porto Alegre Mission [later the Brazil Santa Maria Mission]. Just eight years after that special family home evening with Leandro, I am now sharing family home evenings with my own family.”

Several Church leaders from Tahiti who recently visited Taenga were impressed by the strong feeling of security on the island and the overwhelming spirituality that exists among the entire population. “This is what paradise is all about,” commented Georges Bonnet, the Church’s regional manager for temporal affairs.
One morning Brother Bonnet was awakened by an unusual sound. When he got up and looked out, he discovered the sisters of the Relief Society sweeping away the leaves that had fallen onto the village road during the night. “I’ve never seen such cleanliness,” he observed. “The entire village is spotless, and it is obvious that the people take great pride in their island.”

As we have attended the baptismal services for our grandchildren, we’ve shared their happiness in becoming members of the Church. After her baptism, Amy innocently wrote in her journal: “When I was baptized, it was fun because I became a member of the Church … Now it is all over and I don’t have any more sins and I don’t have to worry.” Seeing these precious children reach out to take their fathers’ hands in complete faith and trust as they enter the baptismal font has been one of the most beautiful sights I have witnessed. Then, joining with others in placing my hands on their heads as they have been confirmed and having their fathers give them the gift of the Holy Ghost and a father’s blessing have been experiences I shall never forget.