Gospel Story Finder

Many of the LDS kids in Alice attend St. Philip’s, a private school run by another church. St. Philip’s has a strict dress code. There are even rules about jewelry—only one pair of earrings, no bracelets, no rings.
That was a problem for the Mormon kids—no rings. Like many Latter-day Saints worldwide, they like to wear CTR rings. But they were told to remove them, even though exceptions had been made before for jewelry with “religious significance.”
“I had explained why it was important to me,” says Lavinia Archibald, 16. “But one of my teachers kept saying to take the ring off or she’d confiscate it.”
The LDS students and their parents talked to the principal, who knew the LDS youth were some of his best students. He talked to the faculty, explained that CTR stands for “choose the right,” and gave his approval for Latter-day Saints to wear the rings.

One school year I began to feel weighed down from the stress of life. During one of these stressful days, I prayed and read the Book of Mormon for 10 minutes. As I read, I felt an incredible warmth fill my heart. I felt loved, uplifted, and happy despite my trials. I felt an incredible peace I had never felt before. From this experience I finally understood what the Savior meant when He said, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you” (John 14:27). The next few weeks, I had this experience multiple times, and it propelled me to move forward through my struggles.
Chloe K., 18, Wisconsin, USA

There were only three Scouts, initially, in the Cleveland Branch of the Tulsa Oklahoma Stake. But that didn’t stop them. The branch was challenged to organize a Scout troop anyway.
“There were already other Scouts in the area,” reports Dan Steurer, first counselor in the branch presidency, who was given the specific assignment to organize the troop. “But troop committees weren’t really functioning. The community was looking for the leadership and organization that the Church could provide, and this was a way to serve them.” Strong adults, both LDS and non-LDS, were asked to work with the newly organized troop.
Depending on whom you ask, the Scout troop gets credit directly or indirectly for 8 to 13 baptisms.
“We’ve had Scouts who’ve been baptized, we’ve had assistant Scoutmasters who’ve been baptized, and their families,” says Michael Southward, the Cleveland Branch president. “The Scouts are probably the single most active missionary tools we have.”
Now the branch sponsors two troops, Troop 76 with 26 Scouts, and Troop 66 with 13 Scouts. Five boys have received their Eagle rank. The branch is also helping the Cub Scout movement in four different towns, and a Varsity Scout team is being organized.
“If service is helping people meet their own needs,” Brother Steurer said, “then you’d have to say organizing a Scout troop is one of the greatest service projects ever. And if you think of sharing the gospel as the greatest service of all, then you’d have to say we’re mighty happy.”

In September 1972 President Harold B. Lee visited Israel. President Lee was accompanied by Sister Lee, Elder Gordon B. Hinckley of the Quorum of the Twelve, and Sister Hinckley.
While in the Holy Land, President Lee met with the mayor of Jerusalem and other officials of the Israeli government. He also visited Bethlehem, where Jesus was born, and Nazareth, where the Savior spent His childhood.
One of his special visits was to the Garden Tomb, a beautiful area where it is believed Jesus was buried and rose from the dead. There President Lee met with the Saints in Israel and organized the Jerusalem Branch of the Church. The Primary children of the new branch sang one of President Lee’s favorite songs, “I Am a Child of God.”
Later when President Lee spoke to members of the Church in Rome, he told them that his choicest experience in the Holy Land was hearing the children sing that lovely song. He explained that we all are truly God’s children and that our Heavenly Father wants us to do what’s right so that we can return to live with Him.
The children of the Jerusalem Branch will always remember President Lee and his visit with them. They feel blessed that a modern-day prophet visited this land where Jesus lived and taught. They are glad too that they are able to visit some of these sacred places.

Chen, Yang Su-yuan has been blind since 1981, when she developed complications after cataract surgery. But losing her eyesight helped her find the gospel and ultimately helped her see the importance of temple and family history work.
Having recently gone blind, Sister Chen didn’t realize that the two young ladies at her door asking for a glass of water were missionaries. Inviting them in made all the difference in her life.
“Most people considered me useless because I was blind,” Sister Chen says. “But that’s not what God wanted to tell me. He sent me missionaries after I lost my sight to teach me that we are all the children of God and that He ransomed us at a great price. I learned my worth because of the ransom Jesus paid. I am priceless.”
Since then, Sister Chen has served in many callings in the Chung Li First Ward, Tao Yuan Taiwan Stake, as well as serving in the temple since 1992.
But losing her sight wouldn’t be the only trial Sister Chen would have to face. In 1987 she almost died after developing a large cyst that required the removal of a rib. She survived, but the medical bills wiped out her life savings. She wondered why God hadn’t just taken her.
She said His response was, “You have many things left to do.”
Not long after, she felt the call of family history.
“I wondered, how am I going to do genealogy if I can’t see?” she says. “But the feeling didn’t go away.”
With the help of a dear friend, she has researched 22 generations of her main family line and done all of the ordinances for the women herself. She is now working on related branches. Along the way, she has come to appreciate the inseparable connection between temple work and family history.
“There are many ordinances we receive in the temple, and they are all important,” Sister Chen says. “But we must do our family history. We can’t give these ordinance to our ancestors without doing our genealogy.”
“Family history and temple work are one work,” said Elder Dennis B. Neuenschwander of the Seventy. “Family history research should be the primary source of names for temple ordinances, and temple ordinances are the primary reason for family history research.”
Sister Chen is now battling a new disease and the aftereffects of a minor heart attack. Twenty years after first asking God why He had left her, she found herself asking the same question—and receiving the same answer. “Haven’t I already told you?” she felt Him say. “You still have temple work to do.”
So Sister Chen continues to spend one week per month at the temple.
“These are things we have to do for our ancestors that they cannot do for themselves,” she says. “With my situation, I don’t have the time commitments that others have with work and such. I need to work hard now while I can.”

On one occasion when we were permitted to take John to church even though he was still on oxygen, a mother approached us with her eight-year-old son. She quietly, almost reverently, asked if her son could see the baby. She explained that her son had caught the vision of serving and loving others by fasting and praying. He wanted to see how his faith and prayers had been answered. He looked at the baby and wept. He told his mother he was glad he could fast and pray. “After all,” he said, “look what Heavenly Father did.”

“I have heard that only 2 percent of the population is born with extraordinary talent. Most people have to work to become good!
“Let me give an illustration: Half a century ago a boy of ten was working in Naples in a factory. He longed to be a singer, but his first teacher discouraged him.
“‘You can’t sing,’ he said. ‘You haven’t any voice at all. It sounds like shutters.’ But his mother, a poor peasant woman, put her arms around him and told him she knew he could sing. She could see an improvement already, and she went barefoot in order to save money to pay for his music lessons. That peasant mother’s praise and encouragement changed her boy’s life. He was to become one of the world’s greatest tenors. His name was Caruso.
“You mustn’t give false praise, but instead, be like this mother and find the good. Then give your sister the genuine praise that she seeks.”
Bruce Wendell BarkerJacksonville, North Carolina

“By our standards the villagers of San Gabriel had very little, but they gave beyond their means. We were constantly showered with gifts of flowers, food, and mementos. But our first realization of how much they cared was exemplified by a six-year-old girl. As we were leaving the village after our fourth visit, young Cielo ran up to us with a bouquet of flowers. Before she could speak she burst into tears. After moments of surprise and confusion we were told that she had to return to school the next week and would not be able to attend our lessons again. Her unexpected display of emotion touched us deeply. As we tried to hold back our own tears, we assured her that we would visit her on Sunday.
“There were other such incidents during those weeks that also left lasting impressions, but our final visit was a fitting climax. As we sat in that humble, one-room chapel for the last time and felt the rain trickle in through the leaking roof, we were moved. We couldn’t hold back the tears as the members presented each of us with an onyx necklace they had made themselves. Through her tears one sister commented, ‘The chapel cries too because you must leave us!’
“As one man handed us each a box of candy, he earnestly asked us to convey the love of the Mexican people to the Saints in the United States.
“He wanted us to know that they too love the gospel. He wanted the world to know that Saints exist in San Gabriel.”
Carol Peterson, Fort Worth, TexasStana Smoot, Centerville, Utah

Once I went with my dad to Sigatoka, Fiji—a great place to swim in the ocean. My parents were divorced, so my mum wasn’t going with us. Before we left, she bought me purple goggles. Sure, they’re just goggles, but she expected me to take care of them and bring them back.
At the end of the second day in Sigatoka, I realized I didn’t have my goggles. I worried that I’d lost them in the ocean. The first thing I did was pray that I would be able to find my goggles. I felt peace and knew everything would be OK.
The only person I told was my brother. He doesn’t believe in God and often criticized my beliefs because I am the only member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in my family. He said, “Yeah, you’re not going to get them back.” I told him, “I prayed about it, and I know my prayers will be answered.”
The next day I scanned the water while we swam. When it was time to go, I still hadn’t found my goggles. I accepted I probably wouldn’t find them and thanked Heavenly Father for His comfort and peace.
Then my brother suddenly shouted. He was holding up the purple goggles!
My brother still doesn’t believe in the gospel, but I am grateful for the comfort, strength, and assurance that come when I put my faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
Shreya S., Suva, Fiji

My husband, Larry, and I enjoy eating out at a delicious Mexican restaurant called “Mi Ranchito.” We like it so much that I keep the number stored in my smartphone.
One afternoon, we decided to order takeout. I picked up my phone and casually said, “Hey, Siri! Call Mi Ranchito.”
Siri’s chic British voice responded immediately: “OK, Lisa! From now on, I will call you ‘Ranchito.’”
Larry and I burst into laughter. It was funny. Without missing a beat, Siri changed my name to Ranchito. From that moment on, my smartphone, my husband, my children, my grandchildren, and anyone else to whom Larry related the story began to call me Ranchito. No matter what I did, Siri refused to call me Lisa again.
At first the situation was entertaining. Soon it became annoying. And as I worked to restore my true name, it became alarming. I imagined the possibility of receiving texts, emails, and snail mail addressed to “Ranchito.” I imagined pollsters soliciting polling information from Ranchito over my phone and politicians inviting Ranchito to vote for them in the next election.
“Over a very short time,” I thought, “Lisa could drop out of existence, and Ranchito could take over my social identity.”
How frightening! Siri, who doesn’t know me, doesn’t care about me, and isn’t even a real person, had effortlessly stolen my name. As I tried to figure out how to restore it, I couldn’t help but think how, if I’m not mindful, I could let technology steal away my identity, reputation, and sense of self.
I also realized how technology’s many distractions can often lead us to forget our divine identities as children of God.
Thankfully, I was able to get Siri to change my name from Ranchito back to Lisa. But this experience taught me that my most important identity is that of disciple of Jesus Christ and child of God. So I will always choose to allow a prophet of God and the Holy Ghost, rather than Siri, Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram, Pinterest, or any other internet influence, to shape my identity and guide me along the covenant path to Jesus Christ!

I spent my early childhood in Pocatello, Idaho. The most significant event at that time was World War II. My first memory in life is of being at the train station in Pocatello one night with my mother and three brothers, watching a troop train with my dad onboard pull out of the city. I felt a powerful sense of loss and sadness.
My dad was away serving in the navy for two years. During that period, my mother was raising four little boys at a time when shoes, tin, gasoline, and anything made of rubber were rationed. Even if you had money, you still needed coupons to buy anything. It was a tough time, yet I think as little boys we didn’t really notice any losses, except for our dad.

“Shortly after we were married, we began looking for a church. We had promised each other we would have a Christian home. Our neighbors had a daughter who had just joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She asked us if we’d like to talk to the missionaries. As soon as they walked onto our porch, we knew these men were different. There was a spirit about them.”
Another homecoming, this one leading to serious study, fasting, prayer, and finally the realization that Heavenly Father was welcoming them into the only true church.
“All the pieces fit. Everything was right. And since then our love for God has grown, our faith has grown, and we’ve seen the truth in action in the lives of Latter-day Saints everywhere we’ve lived.”

In a short amount of time, Ethel successfully recruited over 150 students from the Hawaiian islands. These Students were so anxious and blessed to enroll in a college that was affordable, close by, and most importantly tailored specifically for them by a Prophet of God.

The College began with an opening assembly in the chapel of the Laie First Ward because that was the largest facility they had to accommodate everyone.

“True to prophetic vision, the college was now a reality and the official opening an important event in history. We were pioneers and it was exciting to be involved with The Church College. The faculty and staff were very compatible and the students were wonderful. We had 153 students that first historic year and it has continued to grow.”

Ethel was mindful that our students were tremendously blessed by this institution. She explained how one student, Glen Auna, was so excited to be admitted to this school that he arrived two weeks early, and they didn’t know what to do with him.
Portable buildings were used as dorms and classrooms while the campus was being built by service missionaries until 1958. The girl's dormitory was up on the hill near the temple, and the boys were housed a couple of miles away at Kokololio, or Kekela Beach Park.

My family strives to come to know Christ through service. Every Christmas season, we “send the star around.” Whoever has the star does a secret service for a member of the family and at the same time leaves the little gold wooden star with that person.
I have found that our home is filled with a wonderful spirit when we constantly show our love to each other. The spirit of service is valuable far beyond presents and money.

Will loved the warm desert of southern Utah. He was 10 years old—old enough to go to school and climb on the nearby red rocks and help care for the trees and vegetables his family grew. Or tried to grow, anyway. It was 1899, the driest year anyone in St. George could remember.
“We need rain!” Will thought as he walked home from school one day. No rain had fallen for months, and the alfalfa fields looked brown and thirsty.
As usual, Will felt the hot sun pound down on him, and gritty sweat started to trickle down the sides of his face. But then Will noticed something that was not usual. All the grown-ups were huddled together in small groups talking. Something exciting was happening!
“The prophet, President Lorenzo Snow, is traveling all the way to St. George,” Will’s mother explained when he got home. “He’s going to hold a special conference for us.”
When President Snow came, Will went to the tabernacle to hear him speak. The prophet said he wasn’t sure why the Lord had wanted him to come to St. George. It was a hard time for everyone. The Church didn’t have enough money to pay for the meetinghouses and temples.
On the second day of the conference, President Snow asked all the children to line up in their Primary classes.
“I shall shake hands with each child present so that they may be able to say that they have shaken hands with a man who has shaken hands with a man who saw God face to face while in the flesh—Joseph Smith,” President Snow said.
Will stretched to peer over the other children as President Snow shook their hands one by one. When it was his turn, Will looked into the face of the prophet and felt warm and light inside.
Later, Will got the same feeling again when President Snow gave another talk. He said he knew what message the Lord wanted him to share with the people of the Church: They needed to pay tithing!
“The time has now come for every Latter-day Saint … to pay his tithing in full,” President Snow said. “If you do, the Lord will open up the way before you in a manner that will astonish you.”
Will knew that what the prophet had said was true. From then on, when he gathered eggs from the chicken coop, he set aside the first of every 10 eggs to take to the bishop. When his father earned a dollar fixing a wagon, he gave 10 cents to the Lord. After his mother milked the cow, she gave one jar of the milk for tithing.
For the next three months, Will’s family and friends kept paying their tithing and taking care of their crops.
But there was still no rain. They used what little water they had to try to keep their plants alive. They knew the Lord would bless them in His own time.
Several months later, tiny dark dots began to appear on the dusty dirt roads around town. It was raining in St. George! Everyone shouted for joy as the thirsty ground drank up the water falling from the sky.
“Quick, go get a barrel to catch the water that’s running off the roof!” Will’s mother said. As he ran, Will smiled up at the sky and let the raindrops splash down on his face.
That evening, he knelt in prayer with his family, thanking God for the blessing of rain.
Will watched his family’s crops grow strong and healthy that summer. He knew that something else had grown that summer as well: his testimony of prophets and tithing.

Thirty-five years ago, my parents were also blinded and were desperately seeking to know the truth and were concerned about where to turn to find it. My parents were both born in the village, where the traditions were rooted in individuals’ and families’ lives. They both left their village when they were young and came to the city, looking for a better life.
They married and started their family in a very modest way. We were almost eight people in a small house—my parents, two of my sisters and I, and a cousin who used to live with us. I was wondering if we were truly a family, as we were not permitted to have dinner at the same table with our parents. When our dad returned from work, as soon as he entered the house, we were asked to leave and to go outside. Our nights were very short, as we could not sleep because of the lack of harmony and true love in our parents’ marriage. Our home was not only small in size, but it was a dark place. Before meeting with the missionaries, we attended different churches every Sunday. It was clear that our parents were seeking for something that the world could not provide.
This went on until we met with Elder and Sister Hutchings, the first senior missionary couple called to serve in Zaire (known today as DR of Congo or Congo-Kinshasa). When we started meeting with these wonderful missionaries, who were like angels that came from God, I noticed that something started to change in our family. After our baptism, we truly started to progressively have a new lifestyle because of the restored gospel. The words of Christ began to enlarge our souls. They began to enlighten our understanding and became delicious to us, as the truths that we received were discernible and we could see the light, and this light grew brighter and brighter daily.
This understanding of the why of the gospel was helping us to become more like the Savior. The size of our home did not change; neither did our social conditions. But I witnessed a change of heart in my parents as we prayed daily, morning and evening. We studied the Book of Mormon; we held family home evening; we truly became a family. Every Sunday we woke up at 6:00 a.m. to prepare to go to church, and we would travel for hours to attend Church meetings every week without complaining. It was a wonderful experience to witness. We, who had previously walked in darkness, chased darkness from among us (see Doctrine and Covenants 50:25) and saw “great light” (2 Nephi 19:2).

The troops gathered early on a spring morning, just as the sun was breaking over the Montana hills. Mostly young men, they came in small clusters at first, a patrol here, another there, marshaling in the city park until their ranks were full. The ribbons and badges on their uniforms caught the fire of the dawning light.
You could tell by looking in their eyes that this was serious business. They came prepared for action, dressed in orange vests and hunting caps, wearing leather gloves. And they came heavily armed.
With trash bags.
For these were Scout troops, joined by Cub Scouts, some Girl Scouts, and a few other service groups. And their battle was an all-out war against litter.
This gathering of 289 in Missoula and others like it throughout the state would form an army of 7, 000. Dispersed in groups of four youth and two leaders per mile, they would clean Highway 93 from the Canadian border to Idaho. They would spruce up parts of Interstate 15. And working west from the North Dakota border, they would tidy significant stretches of Highway 2, Interstates 90 and 94, Highway 87, and other major thoroughfares.
By midday they would collect more than three million pounds of trash, including 2,000 pounds of recyclable glass and thousands of recyclable aluminum cans.
And they’d be home in time for lunch.

I was in despair and needed strength beyond my own.
I had recently gotten divorced from my husband and still had an unhealthy relationship with him. I had also just given birth to a baby girl, but after praying and pondering about my unique circumstances, I made the difficult decision to put her up for adoption because I felt like I wouldn’t be able to raise and support her on my own.
My self-worth was at its lowest point.
Grieving the loss of my marriage and baby girl at the same time was almost unbearable. I believed in eternal families, but my divorce and adoption placements were final, and there was no hope of being a family with these two people in the eternities. The pain felt truly overwhelming.
Through all the pain, I stayed active in the Church, being the best disciple of Christ I knew how to be. Nevertheless, I could not seem to break my unhealthy relationship with my ex-husband, which often occurs in a cycle of emotional abuse (like the one I was in). I knew logically that I needed to set stricter boundaries for myself with him, but I could not make myself do it.
I talked to my bishop about my situation and how I felt like my ex-husband had an unseen hold on me. In his attempts to support me, my bishop asked questions like, “Are you going to church every week?” “Are you faithfully magnifying your callings?” “Are you saying your prayers daily?”
I was able to answer yes to all these questions.
But then he asked, “Are you reading the Book of Mormon regularly?”
I admitted I was not.
He challenged me to start reading it, and I did.
When I got to Jacob chapter 2, the messages really started to resonate with me.
Jacob’s soul was burdened because of the strict commandment he had received from God—to admonish his brethren according to their crimes. Jacob 2:7 says, “It grieveth me that I must use so much boldness of speech concerning you, before your wives and your children, many of whose feelings are exceedingly tender and chaste and delicate before God, which thing is pleasing unto God.”
Jacob 2:35 says, “Ye have broken the hearts of your tender wives, and lost the confidence of your children, because of your bad examples before them; and the sobbings of their hearts ascend up to God against you.”
As I read, the Spirit testified to me that God was aware of my situation. God knew I was one of the tender wives whose hearts were broken. I shed many tears over my situation.
I experienced increased hope and fortitude as I continued to study the Book of Mormon faithfully. I journaled my thoughts and the truths I learned as I read. Within just a few weeks, I felt stronger than I had ever felt in my life! I found the strength and power to see clearly and begin to let go of my grief, and I was able to start moving forward. I knew this power came from studying the Book of Mormon.
President Russell M. Nelson recently taught: “Few things build faith more than does regular immersion in the Book of Mormon. No other book testifies of Jesus Christ with such power and clarity. Its prophets, as inspired by the Lord, saw our day and selected the doctrine and truths that would help us most. The Book of Mormon is our latter-day survival guide.”1
When I heard our prophet say this, I realized we receive strength from reading the Book of Mormon because it testifies of Jesus Christ with more power than any other book. Jesus Christ is the source of strength! And regular immersion in the Book of Mormon builds our faith, which gives us the power to face and overcome challenges.
I am so grateful I was blessed with the strength to break the unhealthy cycle with my ex-husband. It took a while for me to forgive him, but as I continued to study the Book of Mormon, I learned it was possible for me to forgive through the power of Jesus Christ’s Atonement.

As the mission term for the Grant family came to a close, President Grant decided to try to get Fia into the United States. He booked passage for her as a nurse for his children and hoped that as he was prepared to support her for the rest of her life, there would be no trouble with the immigration authorities. When their ship landed in New York, the excitement of returning home was nearly forgotten in the concern the Grant family had over whether Fia would be able to remain with them. But things went much easier than they had hoped. The immigration officers asked no questions and made no examinations. Fia was in!
The Grant family arrived in Salt Lake shortly before Christmas 1906. Fia was a most welcome addition. Elder Grant even talked of adopting her legally. Perhaps because of her age this was never done, but she was no longer considered hired help; she was loved and treated as a family member.

Yet a disquieting feeling persisted. This was a “one-man church,” entirely centered on the leader’s doctrines and directives. I was sent out to start congregations, but something inside me resisted. I could not move forward unless I knew, without doubt, that God Himself was directing me, not just a man. I stayed in my role, waiting for a clarity that never came in that place.
A professional crossroads coincided with this spiritual searching. My security company, impressed with my skills, was placing me at a new contract with Sankofa Spices, with a promise of a permanent, high-paying position as a security coordinator. I was ready to accept. Then, my friend, the operations manager, mentioned a temporary opening at the “Latter-day Saints” mission office. The pay was less than half of what Sankofa offered, so I wasn’t interested. But when the Sankofa start date was delayed, I agreed to fill in for two weeks. It was a decision that would alter the course of my life.