Gospel Story Finder

On the recent errand to Ethiopia, the Spirit prompted Bishop Pace and me. We knew what to do. We knew what to say. We knew where to go. In many ways, boys, I relived some of my missionary experiences of thirty-four years ago. For example, we needed a permit from the government to travel to Makale to visit the food stations and the distribution centers where tens of thousands of homeless refugees were gathered. When the permit was delayed, desiring to fill our mission, we knelt in prayer and asked the Lord for help. The next morning the permits were issued. Then we needed to get from Addis Ababa to Makale. We again prayed for help and then found passage with a British Royal Air Force mercy flight in a C-130 Hercules transport plane. From Makale, we had no way to travel to Asmara. The Lord knew of our need. Late in the afternoon we hitched a ride with a Swedish Air Force mercy flight. Hitchhiking is not a good idea, and especially not by air, but being on the Lord’s errand, it was all right.
I have deep affection for the goodness of people, many of whom I met in far-off Ethiopia, who are not members of the Church but who are giving unselfish Christian service. Brethren, I was so grateful that the Church made a significant contribution to help meet a desperate need. I believe if we had more missionaries in the world, rendering meaningful Christian service and helping people come to the knowledge of the glorious message of the Restoration, we would find favor with the Lord.
I say to you young men tonight, get ready; every one of you, get ready. This world needs your service. Repent if you need to. Study from the standard works every day. Say your prayers morning and night. Develop in your heart a desire to know the mysteries of God. To lead the Church tomorrow, you must prepare today. Train hard, boys, and I promise you that you will live to be grateful that you made the effort to prepare.

President Lee remembered his mother also as being influential in teaching him to listen to the promptings of the spirit.
“Once I was standing in the doorway of our little house watching a great thunderstorm raging in the nearby mountains. The thunder grew closer and closer. Suddenly, and without warning, my mother gave me a vigorous push that sent me sprawling out of the doorway. At that instant, a bolt of lightning came down the chimney of the kitchen stove, out through the open doorway, and split a huge gash from top to bottom in a large tree immediately in front of the house.
“My mother never could explain her split-second decision that saved my life, but it was one of many occasions when my mother followed the promptings of the Spirit.”

Another help that almost every person interviewed mentioned for bringing a new family close is showing physical affection. You’re not being disloyal to a natural parent by giving a stepparent a hug. You hug your friends, don’t you? “I remember one thing that really made me feel closer to my stepmom,” says Chris Smith. “I’d just gotten home from a trip, and she gave me a big hug—that made me realize she was really happy to see me. That was good.”

One of my distant Scandinavian relatives who was thriving financially in Denmark came with his family as converts to the Church to America and his family was directed to settle in Sanpete County. He was quite well-to-do, as I said, and he sold his lands, herds, and flocks for what he could and came without complaint. For a while he did well as far as the Church and his activities were concerned; and amazingly, even without the abundant rainfall and the water and the resources, he began to thrive again. He accumulated wealth again. He became so interested and involved in his possessions that he forgot about the purpose of his coming to America. They waited upon him as ward teachers. The bishop would call upon him and implore him to become active as he used to be, and he would promise them that in the future when he got certain things settled that he would do it. Finally he was growing old, and they came and said to him, “Now, Lars, the Lord was good to you when you were in Denmark. He has been good to you since you have come here. See all of the things that you possess. We think now, since you are growing a little older, that it would be well for you to spend some of your time in the interests of the Church. After all, you can’t take these things with you when you go.”
He stopped. He was shocked, and he said, “Vell, den, I vill not go.” But he did. And so will we. It is time today to begin the program and process of repenting!

Quinn has seen firsthand how trusting the Lord leads to success. His first big roping win came during the National Finals Rodeo in December 2005. Going into the competition, Quinn, then 12, decided that if he won, he would donate all of his winnings to the Church’s general missionary and perpetual education funds.
The day of the event arrived, and conditions were poor. It was windy, making it challenging to throw a lariat with accuracy. But Quinn remembered his decision and trusted that he’d be blessed. He roped well, and though he was by the far the youngest one there, he placed first and third against tough competition.
Even though there were a few things that Quinn might have wanted to buy, such as a new saddle, he put his money where his mouth was and donated the money.
“It opened my eyes—if you’re going to do something good for the Lord, He is sure to help you,” Quinn says.

It was a fine fall day with the sun bright and the air crisp. Bear Cub was happy as he walked through the golden woods.
“Ho, Bear Cub!” cried a small voice.
Bear Cub looked down. He saw Chipmunk carrying a large pile of seeds and nuts. “Do you need help, Chipmunk?”
“Yes, thank you.” Chipmunk divided the pile in two. “I’m taking food to my home to store for the winter. It will be coming soon.”
“Winter is coming?” asked Bear Cub. “I’ve never lived through a winter. What will it be like, Chipmunk?”
“Winter? Why winter will be …” Chipmunk stopped walking and tapped his foot as he thought. “Winter will be … Hmmmm …” Chipmunk started walking again. “Come to think of it, I spend winter underground, so I don’t know too much about it.”
They stopped beside a stone wall where there was a small hole in the ground at its base. Chipmunk ran into the hole with his load of seeds and nuts, then popped out again. “Thanks for helping, Bear Cub. About winter—I hear that it gets mighty cold and that food is hard to find.” Chipmunk took the pile of food from Bear Cub and popped into the hole again.
Bear Cub saw a bird pulling up a worm. “Hello, Robin. Do you know what winter will be like?”
Robin swallowed the worm. “I don’t stay here for the winter, Bear Cub. I fly south where the weather is warm and where food is plentiful.” Robin grabbed another worm and ate it. “I can’t stay to chat, Bear Cub. I must eat lots of worms before I fly south.”
Bear Cub heard a digging sound. He followed the noise to a small hole in the ground. “Hello!” Bear Cub yelled down the hole.
A brown head with a long nose popped up. “Yo, Bear Cub! Did you come to watch me dig?”
“Is this a new tunnel, Mole?”
“Yes, Bear Cub. It’s a deeper tunnel. With winter coming, I must go deeper to keep warm.” Then Mole popped back into his tunnel.
“What will winter be like, Mole?” Bear Cub called down the tunnel.
Mole popped his head out again. “Winter will be cold.”
“And will food be hard to find?” asked Bear Cub.
“No, there’s plenty of food. I get all the worms and insects I need in my tunnel. I have to get back to digging now. Why don’t you talk to Beaver? He can tell you more about winter.”
Bear Cub found Beaver cutting up a tree limb with his sharp teeth. “What will winter be like, Beaver? I’ve heard that it’s cold and that food is hard to find.”
“Not for me,” said Beaver. “I stay warm in my lodge during the winter, and I eat the sticks that I’ve gathered and stored there.” Beaver cut another limb to size. “I don’t see that much of winter, Bear Cub. You should ask Deer. She stays above ground all winter long.”
When Bear Cub asked Deer about winter, her soft brown eyes became sad.
“Winter is short, gray days when snow covers the grass and leaves. Winter is long, dark nights huddled against the wind. Winter is always looking for food and shelter.”
Now Bear Cub was worried. What would he eat in winter? He didn’t have a tunnel in which to store his food. How would he stay warm in winter? He didn’t have a beaver lodge to keep out the cold. He couldn’t fly away like Robin. Would he be like Deer, without food or shelter? He had to find his mother. She would know what to do.
When Bear Cub asked Mama Bear about winter, she wrapped her arms around him. “Don’t worry about winter,” she said. “We will eat so much food that we will not get hungry. We will spend winter in a cave. We will be warm because our fur will be thick. We will sleep through most of the long, dark nights and the short, gray days. And when we wake up, it will be spring!”
Bear Cub was no longer afraid. He looked forward to spending the winter snuggled against Mama Bear. “Now I know what winter will be like, Mama,” said Bear Cub. “Winter will be wonderful!”

When I was growing up, young men went on missions when they were 20 years old. Not all young men were expected to go on missions, as they are today. My father had always hoped I would go on a mission, and he had encouraged me. But as I got older, I wondered, Is that really what I want to do?
My priests quorum adviser, Dale Waite, was a great example and a wonderful teacher. One time he took us to a ward outing at a swimming resort. We had a good time swimming, playing volleyball, and just being together. That night we piled into Brother Waite’s car to go home—the car sure was full! Full of good memories of the evening’s activities, we were starting up the old highway in the dark of night, when Brother Waite asked, “Did any of you hear the First Presidency’s announcement today?”
None of us had; we were all ears. Brother Waite told us, “The First Presidency has announced that young men can be called on missions at 19 years of age.” When he said that, the Spirit of the Lord came over me, filling me from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet. I knew the message was, “You are going on a mission.” I had never had that kind of experience before, but the feeling that I was to go on a mission never left me.
When I came home from my mission, it was with the firm resolve that I would never be the same—and I never have been. And all that happened because a priests quorum adviser stayed close to the young men in his quorum, taught them the gospel, and helped them learn in a very simple way that they could go on missions and be touched by the Spirit of the Lord.

I grew up in the Methodist Church. Even though my family usually attended church only on Christmas and Easter, I always knew I had a Father in Heaven. My brother and I used to pray with my mom. What my parents taught me as a child prepared me for what I would learn in the future.
In sixth grade I learned that my parents were getting divorced. I was heartbroken and felt very alone. My friend Courtney could relate to me because her parents divorced when she was a little girl. She became my best friend.
Courtney and I were sitting on my bed talking when she first introduced the Church to me. She didn’t go into detail about it. She just asked me if I wanted to attend church with her on Sunday. I started going to church with her every once in a while, and then I went every Sunday. After I turned 12, I even attended Mutual. There was something there. I didn’t know what it was, but I enjoyed it.
In seventh grade Courtney and another good friend, Aubrey, introduced me to the missionaries. I soon learned what the missionaries meant when they talked about feeling the Spirit. I knew the Church was true after the second discussion.
Despite my testimony of the gospel, I was scared to death to ask my parents if I could be baptized. I continued to go to church and have incredible testimony-building experiences, but I put off the “big question” for two years.
In my freshman year of high school, I enrolled in seminary, and by November I knew I had to ask. I talked with my mom. She told me the Church had only made changes in me for the better, and if being baptized was what I really wanted, then I should go ahead and do it. My first thought was, “Why in the world did I wait so long?”
Then I called my dad, but he wasn’t very excited. When I asked him if I could be baptized, he said no. He said he wanted me to attend some other churches first. So I went to some other churches, and I met some amazing people—people who lived very righteous lives. But nothing could change the feeling I felt when I stepped into a Latter-day Saint chapel. In February I called my dad and said, “I’m getting baptized on March 7th. I hope you’ll be there.”
My whole family came, including my dad. To have my family there meant the world to me. It was the most incredible day of my life.

As I rounded the last corner on my way to see the missionaries, I felt a strong force trying to keep me from going. It was like walking against a 70-mile-per-hour wind, which I had done before, only it was stronger. But this was spiritual. I was just about to give up and turn around. I knew this force wanted me to doubt everything, but I finally said, “No, no. I know there’s a God.” I felt that truth deep in the roots of my soul. I knew He would battle this force for me.
I reached the chapel door, just a normal chapel door, but I had to pull with all my might to force it open. When I entered I saw some members and felt their spirit, and the opposing force was gone, broken. I felt the sweet peace in my heart again, and felt it even more strongly several days later as I was baptized and confirmed. I still feel it to this day.

Bit by bit, and blissfully unaware, I was poisoning myself. OK, I use the term “poisoning” a bit loosely here, but to a teenage guy in high school, the word seemed appropriate. I had turned my skin orange.
Without realizing it.
You see, I was trying to kick a soda habit and did so by rather unconventional means. I started drinking freshly-made carrot juice. My dad had bought a juicer that extracted nothing but juice—which means you cruise through plenty more carrots that way (and consume a lot of beta-carotene).
Fun fact: beta-carotene, at those levels, enters the bloodstream and starts painting you from the inside out. It’s harmless to your overall health but becomes oh-so-visible over time. Somehow, though, I still hadn’t noticed the effects unfolding until a friend squinted at me in the sunlight one afternoon.
“Um, Dave, is your skin … orange?” she asked.
“No!” I laughed. What an absurd question.
Then she held her forearm next to mine for comparison. I glanced down in shock. My skin looked like it was slathered in pumpkin puree compared to hers. From that moment on, I cut way back on the carrot juice.
Back to my beta-carotene fiasco for a moment. In the end, I swapped in some celery sticks and apple slices to replace most of the carrots in my not-quite-as-good-as-soda beverage. And, in time, my skin returned to its normal hue. Whew! Though it was a huge relief at the time, that particular snag was a small one in the grand scheme of eternal matters.

On that November day in 1972 when I got on the bus to go to school, I had no idea this day was going to be one of the most important in my life.
I was 13 and an ordinary student. I mainly tried to have a good time at school, and I had many friends who were like I was. Óscar Italia was not like the other boys. He really did study and, as a result, was on the honor roll. But I didn’t know him well. He was a quiet fellow.
When I entered the classroom that day, he was wearing a button on his lapel that read, “I Care. What about You?” At that time the Church in our area had a program to help members share the gospel. They wore this button so when people asked about it, they could explain about family home evening and the family.
I asked Óscar, “What’s that?” He explained that he had been baptized three months before and was the only Latter-day Saint in his family.
During the breaks that day he noticed my interest and explained the plan of salvation, and he gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon. He read me the promise in Moroni 10:3–5 and told me that if I prayed, I would feel a burning in my heart that would confirm to me that the Book of Mormon was true. Óscar was a great member missionary, and I believed him.
The next morning, while my mother was doing her shopping at the neighborhood market, I decided to read the Book of Mormon. When I was almost finished with the first page, I had a desire to pray. I went to my room and knelt beside my bed. I had never prayed before, but I remembered I had to ask God in the name of Christ. I asked if the Book of Mormon was true, and I asked God to tell me if He existed. I expected to feel what my classmate had testified I would feel. After some minutes I heard my mother coming home and was afraid she would find me praying, so I stood up and got ready for school.
As I rode to school a real battle of ideas was going on in my head. “Is it true or not? Nothing happened,” I thought. I had a lot of doubts.
I can’t explain why, but no sooner had I stepped from the bus onto the sidewalk at school than the doubts disappeared, and I knew it was true. It was extremely simple.
Óscar came up to speak with me at the classroom door. I said, “I will be a member of your church.” He couldn’t believe it. A friend of mine was listening, and he told my other friends what was happening. Soon they were all around me, asking me why I was going to change religions. They told me I was crazy. I couldn’t answer their questions and started to cry. They finally went away, and I was left alone with Óscar. Suddenly I had an overwhelming feeling of joy. I had never felt anything like it before. It was the burning my friend had said I would feel, and it came as a confirmation of the decision I had made.
The next day Óscar brought me a button, and we wore them proudly.

I knew a mother who in her younger years began smoking. It finally gained such a control over her that it was a habit she had great difficulty breaking. She said to her beautiful young daughter: “Look at me and make up your mind to never let a vicious thing like this little cigarette make you a slave to it. I would give anything to quit. I just haven’t got what it takes. Profit from my example.”

The daughter did. She became an active member in the Church, doing everything that she knew was right and good. She loved her mother, yet pitied her, as no doubt the mother did herself.

We know that many wards lately have staged service projects featuring cemetery cleanups, but youth in the Goldsboro North Carolina Stake added another dimension: a historical visitor from the past.

After the youth weeded, hoed, mowed, scrubbed, and cleaned, Brother Allen Holloman, dressed in a Civil War uniform, appeared beside the tombstone of his great-great-grandfather and talked about the hardships that were faced during the war.

As young missionaries in the missionary training center in Brazil, we had a day assigned to go, as companionships, into the streets of São Paulo to invite people to hear the missionary lessons. After a few hours we came back to the MTC and held a testimony meeting.
Many spoke of promptings they received to go to a specific street or approach a certain person. These experiences sounded marvelous to me. However, because I had no similar experience, I felt that perhaps I was not good enough, or prepared enough, to be a missionary.
Feeling discouraged, I sought help from MTC leadership. They helped me understand that God is willing to give us instructions through the Holy Ghost, and while my experience may not be the same as those of others, I still needed to qualify for the Spirit’s direction. Just like a radio that needs to be tuned to a specific station, or a smartphone that needs to be connected to the internet, we must be both in tune and connected in order to receive what the Holy Ghost communicates to us.
At the MTC, I learned that I needed to be ready to receive whatever the Lord wanted to send me, in His time and His way. I learned that interference can cause us to be so distracted that we will not be able to identify when the Lord is talking to us or to listen carefully to the message He would have us hear.

After hearing the stake patriarch speak in sacrament meeting, I felt inspired to ask my bishop for a recommend. Then the patriarch and I set a date. As I entered his house that morning, I knew I was on the right path. We told each other a little about our lives. After that, the patriarch laid his hands upon my head and began to prophesy about my life. I could feel that it was all true and that it was really God that was speaking through the patriarch. I wept. I learned many things about myself that day.
Jared Edge, 18Layton, Utah

My children’s births were not easy. My son arrived a month early and had to be untangled from the umbilical cord. I was seven months along with my baby girl when our doctor said we needed to find a place with an intensive care unit for newborns and adults to immediately intervene for both of us. So, there was no time to feel not ready or busy, it was a matter of survival and bringing life into this world.

We all encounter our own struggles. I can’t imagine the fear and uncertainty that must have been felt by Mary when carrying the divine Christ child or by Eve in choosing to have progeny over remaining in the Garden of Eden.

But the choices we make define us.
The choices we make mold our character and shape our earthly experience and our spiritual growth.

Let the Savior’s birth and what His parents went through allow you to fight your fights knowing that Christ has your back.

Edwin and Elsie were born in India. But Edwin first heard about the Church while going to school in the United States. He went to church there once. He even read the Book of Mormon. But when he got back to India, he forgot about the Church.
Some years later, Edwin and Elsie felt like they should move to Samoa. Edwin was a bug scientist, and he took a job on the island doing research. It was there that Edwin and Elsie met the missionaries. When Edwin read the Book of Mormon again, he felt something special. Elsie read the Book of Mormon too. They chose to be baptized, along with their sons and daughters.

Timothy stares down into the warm muddy water of the plastic bucket.
“What did we get?” Dad asks across the small fishing boat.
Timothy gives it a little swirl. “It looks like some more dragonfly nymphs, not much else.” He passes the bucket to Christopher, who, after a quick glance, passes it to Dad.
Dad takes the bucket and pours the water, mud, and nymphs into a plastic bag and places it in a big cooler. The cooler is the kind you might expect to be filled with sandwiches, fresh fruit, and soda pop, but this one is filled with samples of the insect life in the farm ponds of North Carolina.
Timothy (11) and Christopher (7) live with their family in the Raleigh First Ward, Raleigh North Carolina Stake. Today they are helping their father, a scientist who studies the insects that live in farm ponds.
“Insects in ponds? Underwater?” Both boys were surprised to learn that many animals that live on land also live underwater. There are insects and spiders that spend much of their life underwater. Some, such as the dragonfly, live part of their lives underwater as nymphs with gills before they become winged adults.
It’s hard work to help Dad take samples from the mud and plants of a pond. Timothy and Christopher start the day early. After family prayer, they and Dad load the pickup truck with a net, some special scientific equipment that will help them tell something about the water in which these insects live, and other supplies. When all is ready, the boys hop into the truck and wave good-bye to Mom and their two younger brothers, Jaron and Nathan.
On the way to the pond, the boys and their dad talk about the wonderful plants and animals that they are able to study and enjoy. Timothy wonders, however, why there are mosquitoes. “They only bite and hurt us—what good are they?”
“Do you remember the big bluegill fish you caught when we were fishing?” Dad asks.
“Yes, but what does that have to do with mosquitoes?”
“Well, when that fish was little, guess what it ate.”
“Mosquitoes?”
“Yes. If you look hard enough, you’ll find a reason all creatures were put on the earth, even the ones that annoy and bother us.”
Soon they arrive at the pond, which is about as big as a football field and is surrounded on one side by pines and on the other by fields of hay. Even though it is still early in the morning, it is already getting hot. Timothy and Christopher unload the truck and put everything into the boat that has already been put partially into the water. Then they get into the boat. Dad pushes it the rest of the way into the warm pond water and jumps inside.
“Timothy, please get the hummingbird out and tell us how deep the water is,” Dad requests.
The “hummingbird” isn’t really a bird at all. It’s a tool in a little box that tells them how deep the water is; it can also tell where fish are located. Timothy plugs its wires into the battery pack, then lowers a small black knob about the size of an apple into the water. He watches the screen and excitedly yells, “Nine feet!”
Dad rows the boat near the shore where there are thick patches of water plants. He gets out a sampling net and starts collecting the insects in the water. After he sweeps the net through the vegetation, he dumps whatever has been caught into a big bucket.
“What are you going to do with all these insects?” Christopher asks.
“They’ll help us know how healthy this pond is.”
“Healthy? Ponds can be healthy?”
“Yes, ponds can be healthy—or unhealthy.” When a pond is unhealthy—if it’s polluted for example—then certain kinds of insects die. By looking at the insects in it, you can tell if the pond is healthy or not.”
Dad stops the boat at several places along the shore to take more samples. Each time, one of the boys transfers the insects, water, and mud in the bucket to a plastic bag and places it in the cooler. Then it’s time to head for home.
On the way, Dad says, “We’ve just tested that pond to see if it was healthy. What if someone wanted to find out if our family were healthy? Just as I look at insects to get an idea about the health of a pond, what do you think someone might look for to see if our family was a healthy one?”
“You mean, if we are all sick or not?” Timothy asks.
“Not exactly. You see, the pond is healthy when all the plants and animals live in the balance that Jesus Christ created them to live in—there is enough food to eat and oxygen to breathe. In the same way, our family is healthy when it’s living the way Heavenly Father and Jesus want it to live.”
“Oh, I see—like if we all love each other?”
“Yes, that’s the most important sign of a healthy family. What else?”
Christopher puts in thoughtfully, “If we are doing the things the Lord has asked us to do.”
“Like what?” Dad raises his eyebrows encouragingly.
“Like having family prayer, family home evening, and personal prayer.”
Timothy adds, “Well, we read the Book of Mormon, and we try to follow the prophet.”
“So if a ‘spiritual scientist’ came to our house and saw that we were doing all these things, then he or she would decide we have a healthy family?”
Timothy and Christopher both nod.
“Do you think we have a healthy family?” Dad asks.
“Yup,” Timothy asserts.
“I think so, too,” Christopher agrees.
Dad gives them both a quick pat on the shoulder. “I think you’re right.”

I remember as a young man receiving in my home two young men. (Strangely enough, they had the same first name: Elder!) They showed our family the Book of Mormon, a divine evidence of the Lord’s care and love for his children. They declared to our family the message of the restoration of the gospel, the divine sonship of Christ, the divine mission of Joseph Smith, and the divinity of this church. Their message and their willingness to follow the prophet’s call changed our lives.

How would you like to switch places with your mother for a day? That’s what the young women from Manurewa and Pukekohe in New Zealand did for a role-reversal debate.
In the role reversal, the mothers argued that girls 12 years and older should be able to do as they pleased. The young women argued that there should be reasonable limits.
There were also mother-daughter duets, followed by presentations on motherhood from both the young women and their mothers.
Heather Maloney, the mayor of Franklin, New Zealand, was one of the judges for the debate. She praised the mothers and daughters for their courage in public speaking and thanked the girls for their high standards and values and for the respect they showed in honoring their mothers.