Gospel Story Finder

My sister and I have always wanted to be flower girls in a wedding, so when our cousin Tiffany asked us to be part of her upcoming wedding, we were thrilled. Mom sewed us special dresses, and finally the day arrived. We drove to the beautiful San Diego California Temple. When Tiffany and her new husband, Chris, came out of the temple looking so happy, we were overjoyed to be able to share in this heavenly day. We know that Jesus wants each of us to marry in one of His temples so that we can begin our eternal families in the right way. We are thankful that our cousin set the proper example for us by being worthy to enter the House of the Lord.
Amara and Analise Franco, ages 9 and 7Palmdale, California

In school I had an assignment to create a family coat of arms. First I thought about what is important to my family. Then I started with a sheet of blue paper because I remembered the words from “Our Primary Colors” (Children’s Songbook, 258): “Blue is for truth in our thought and our deed.” Next I put on a green shield to remind me to choose the right, just like my CTR ring. I added a red heart on the shield because “red is for courage to do what is right,” and the heart is for the love that keeps our family together. I added a yellow Utah shape because I was born in Utah and because yellow is for “service from morning till night.” I added a picture of the world because my ancestors came from 14 different countries. I added a picture of the Book of Mormon because it is so important to my family. I added a picture of a baptism because we have to be baptized to return to live with Jesus. I added pictures of temples because they make it possible for our family to be together forever. And I added a white cat because I like cats and have two as pets. My teacher gave me a certificate for being the most creative, and she hung my shield on the wall for a long time. It also helped me to share the gospel with my friends.Rachel Mathews, age 8Valparaiso, Indiana

I remember visiting South Vietnam some years ago. I talked individually with two or three hundred men—men who had waded through the blood and heat of battle, but men who were virtuous in their lives. I remember one of them, a boy who had just come down from the Rock Pile near the Demilitarized Zone, who said in response to a question on morality: “Not on your life—I couldn’t do that. I want to be worthy of a great girl some day.”

The following is an excerpt from volume 3 of Saints, which will be released in early 2022. The setting for this account is the year 1943 in Brazil. Claudio and Mary dos Santos learned about and joined the Church in São Paulo. Missionaries were being sent home due to World War II, and local leaders were desperately needed. (Some of the procedures described here are different from those that Church leaders follow today. Consult the General Handbook for guidance.)
Not long after Claudio and Mary dos Santos were baptized in São Paulo, Brazil, mission president William Seegmiller asked Claudio if he would like to be an elder. Claudio was surprised, but he said, “Yes.” Having attended church for only a few months, he was not exactly sure what it meant to be an elder. He knew all the missionaries were called “Elder,” and they were remarkable young men who dedicated their lives to God. If that was what being an elder meant, that was what he wanted to be.1
The following Sunday morning, just before Sunday School, President Seegmiller ordained Claudio to the office of elder in the Melchizedek Priesthood. When he finished, he said, “Now we are going to prepare the sacrament and set up for Sunday School.”
Claudio was a little bewildered. Everything was happening so quickly, and he did not fully know what he was doing. But he followed the president’s instructions and performed his first priesthood responsibility.
That evening, during the branch’s sacrament meeting, President Seegmiller recruited Claudio’s help again, this time to interpret for him as he spoke to the Saints in English. Claudio was still learning English and had never interpreted before, but he agreed to try.2
At the start of the meeting, President Seegmiller asked the Saints to sustain Claudio’s ordination. To Claudio’s surprise, he understood President Seegmiller clearly, and he easily conveyed the words in Portuguese.
President Seegmiller then told the congregation about a letter he had written to the First Presidency one year earlier. It had expressed his fear that the Church in Brazil did not have enough worthy Portuguese-speaking men who could be ordained to the priesthood and support the branches. He now felt ashamed for having written the letter.
“Today Brother Claudio was ordained an elder,” he said. “Will you sustain him as the first Brazilian branch president of São Paulo?”
Claudio was stunned as he interpreted the words. He thought of his inexperience. “What knowledge do I have?” he wondered. He knew the story of Joseph Smith, but he had never read the Book of Mormon. The only thing he had to offer was enthusiasm for the restored gospel. Maybe that was all the Lord needed from him.
He looked out on the congregation and saw them raise their hands in support of his call. He felt honored. Maybe he didn’t know much, but he was willing to work.3
Claudio’s responsibilities began immediately. He took charge of Sunday meetings and blessed the sacrament. A missionary had taught Claudio to read music, and he soon developed a repertoire of around twenty hymns on the organ so he could accompany the São Paulo Saints. At first, he had only one counselor to assist him, but the two men did their best to juggle work and family responsibilities as they ministered to Saints scattered throughout the enormous city.
Despite his inexperience, Claudio trusted that God had a purpose for calling him to lead the branch. “If it is the true Church, if there is a God in charge, He had to select someone,” he told himself. “He had to choose someone with enthusiasm that could receive authority and do the work.”4

Sister Beck also looks to the example of her father, William Grant Bangerter. “My father said that he didn’t want to miss anything mortality had to offer,” she says. “This included growing older. After he had served as a General Authority, a temple president, a sealer, and in other callings, he was asked to be a family history consultant in his ward.”
He was then in his 80s and didn’t know how to use a computer. “He had to learn,” Sister Beck explains. “He called a deacon in his ward to help him. Then they taught the other deacons how to do family history research. The deacons then taught the rest of the Aaronic Priesthood holders in the ward. Eventually, they and the ward took over 10,000 names to the temple.”

Not to be overlooked is the hand of a father. Whether he be a skilled surgeon, a master craftsman, or a talented teacher, his hands support his family. There is a definite dignity in honest labor and tireless toil. During the period of the Great Depression, I was a small boy. Fortunate were those men who had work. Jobs were few, hours long, pay scant. On our street was a father who, though old in years, supported with the labor of his hands his rather large family of girls. His firm was known as the Spring Canyon Coal Company. It consisted of one old truck, a pile of coal, one shovel, one man, and his own two hands. From early morning to late evening he struggled to survive. Yet during the monthly fast and testimony meeting, I remember specifically his expressing his thanks to the Lord for his family, his work, and his testimony. The fingers of those rough, red, chapped hands turned white as they gripped the back of the bench on which I sat as Brother James Farrell bore witness of a boy who, in a grove of trees near Palmyra, New York, knelt in prayer and beheld the heavenly vision of God the Father and Jesus Christ, the Son. That boy was Joseph Smith. The memory of those hands serves to remind me of that father’s abiding faith, his honest conviction, and his testimony of truth.

Allison Bowman of Chandler, Arizona, explains her way of saying no. “I don’t preach; I just say no. You can’t be rude or they’ll think you’re stuck up. I just let them know what my standards are, and that’s the way I am. They can’t change me.

“When I moved to Arizona, there were some older guys in my debate class who wanted me to ditch class and go out to lunch with them. I told them, ‘No, I don’t do that.’

“They used to ask me to go on dates too. Every time they’d ask me, I’d tell them, ‘No, I can’t date until I’m 16.’ I must have explained it 100 times. But now they kind of look out for me. We’re all still good friends.”

After I was baptized, I had a lot of hard times with my family. Sometimes they wanted me to stay home on Sunday, but I would choose to go to church instead. Most of the time it was hard trying to keep on the covenant path.
Some of my family members have been against the Church and have told me that I made the wrong choice to join. When they tell me this, these words come to my mind: “I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ live. I know that the Church is true.” These thoughts have helped me hold on to the truth.

Allow me to use one last personal story. As a young man I had great dreams of one day playing college football and also playing in the National Football League. I set high goals and expectations for myself to achieve while in high school. I remember going the extra mile during the off-season so that I could compete and perform at my highest level.

The football season did not go so well. At the end of the season our team had won only two games. After the last game of the year I walked off the field with my head down. I was discouraged, and rightly so. My mother spotted me from a distance and noticed the disappointment in my body language. She came over to me as I tried to walk away from her. She asked me what was wrong. I said, “I am so frustrated. I have worked so hard to make myself better, and we can’t win more than two games. I feel like a loser.”

She said to me in that moment words that changed my life for good. She said, “Son, I know that you are disappointed in the results of your team. I know you have put forth much effort in your preparation to be successful. But I promise you: Because you have the gospel in your life, you are on the Lord’s team. And if you keep His commandments, you will be a winner in this life.”

Those words have resonated with me and have echoed in my mind for the last 30 years.

Here is just one more example of one who loved me and gave me direction in a time of need.

There are two ways the Thordersons learned this lesson: one, because they are all different from each other, and two, because as members of the Church, they are very different from most of their friends.
With six kids in a family, you can hardly expect them to all have the same likes or dislikes, virtues or vices. Sometimes this makes getting along with each other difficult, but in the Thorderson family, having different talents was encouraged. Jim said, “Our parents always let us do what we were interested in, like when Kurt wanted to be a photographer, he worked to earn a camera and they helped him. They always helped us pursue what we wanted to do.”
Consequently, Eric, Kurt, and Jim, the three oldest, have grown up to be very different people. Eric is a businessman, Kurt is doing a residency to get his M.D., and Jim is making a name for himself as an artist. But these differences have never stopped them from having a good time with each other. For instance, the year before Jim went on his mission, all three of them played on the basketball team at Wayne State University in Detroit. They know from this and many other experiences that being different doesn’t mean they can’t be friends.
And all of the Thordersons know that being different because of their values is more than all right—it’s the way to set a good example for others around you. Kurt said, “While we were growing up, Eric and I were the only LDS students in our high school, and we were in a graduating class of about 650. And then when I went to Wayne State, the only other Latter-day Saints out of 30,000 people were Eric and Dad (he works as an administrator there). It was hard, but it also made me stand up for what I believe.”
The Thordersons went to seminary at 6:00 A.M. throughout high school, and they all talk about what a great program it is. “Early morning seminary, I think, was a big boost for us,” said Kurt. “It really takes a lot of commitment to go, and I think it’s worth it.” Nels, the fifth child, who is on a mission in Salt Lake City, said, “It starts your day out right to see your Church friends early in the morning before school starts.”
Jed, who is 13, hasn’t started seminary yet, but the example of his older brothers and sister has inspired him to read the Book of Mormon each morning before school with his mother. They read one chapter a day, and they have already read through the book three times. Because of this experience, Jed is sure he’ll have no trouble getting up for seminary when the time comes. As the youngest of this clan he has probably benefited the most from the 3F formula because it was well established by the time he came along. “I think all of these big brothers are great—I get to wear all of their old clothes!” he laughs. You don’t have to ask Jed twice if he thinks the 3F formula works. He has learned its power through example, and it’s not a lesson he’s likely to forget.
So, now that you’ve met the Thordersons, do you believe the formula works?
Maybe you think, yeah, I guess they have a pretty good time together, but I still don’t understand how that little 3F thing can make such a difference.
Well, to tell the truth, it’s not the formula that makes the difference. The formula is just a reminder of the results that come when you apply the truths the Thordersons learned. Add some of your own activities, too. Things like going to your brother’s football game, or living the principles you learn in seminary, or laughing at your little sister’s corny elementary school jokes are what makes the 3F formula work. Those things have more power to change your earthly and heavenly home than you imagine. The 3F formula is powerful—you’ll have a lot of fun with it if you give it a try. Just ask the Thordersons, who are living proof; they’ll tell you they’re working on the 4F formula, too. That’s family = friends = fun = forever.

I was raising our children in the Church, but within a few years, our children decided they would rather spend Sundays boating with their dad than attending church with me. I was devastated. One day in 1975 I talked to my stake president and told him that I had decided I needed to leave the Church because it was breaking up our family. He patiently listened and said, “Do what you must, but be sure that your Father in Heaven approves.” So I went home and fasted and prayed. That was the second memorable prayer. The answer that came was the impression that I was the link in the gospel chain for my family; if I broke that link, everyone would be lost. I knew the answer came from God, so I committed to never leave the Church. And I never did.

Felipe knew it was getting late. The birds had stopped chirping, and the crickets were humming loudly. He and his mother had walked in the forest for more than two hours. But each path they took looked the same as the last. They were completely lost.
Felipe was getting really scared. How long could they survive in this jungle? He was only 10, after all. That wasn’t old enough to fight off a snake or wild boar! And what other scary creatures might be on the prowl after sunset? The thought sent chills up his spine.
Be brave, he told himself. He knew he had to be.
Felipe wished his dad were there. But he had died six months ago. Without him, things were tough for Felipe and his mom. They were out of money and food.
Felipe hoped they could get to his sister’s house on the other side of the mountain soon. She could give them some money to buy rice.
He said a prayer in his heart. “Father in Heaven, please help us find our way. Please.”
Then a thought came to him: Look for the coconut trees. Felipe looked up. There, in the distance, was a grove of coconut trees. He could see them high above the rest of the jungle. Their palm leaves waved in the breeze. For the first time in hours, Felipe felt hope.
“Look!” He pointed to the trees.
His mother understood. Coconut trees meant a village was close. God had answered Felipe’s prayer. Felipe took his mother’s hand. Together they walked to safety as the sun dipped below the trees.
Felipe always remembered how God answered his prayer. Sometimes he wished he could hear God’s voice better like he did that night in the jungle.

Getting a testimony of the Restoration wasn’t a quick experience for me. It was very difficult and brought me into the “depths of humility” (Mosiah 4:11).
It started when I was a devout, hardcore Calvinist. Though I’d returned to full activity a couple years before, questions I’d had since childhood lingered in the background of my mind. Over the previous months and years leading to meeting the missionaries, they grew and multiplied after receiving no satisfactory answer from asking or researching them. These endeavours to discover more truth left me with more confusion. They were corrosive to my faith. Its crescendo was when these queries led to a faith crisis. I doubted everything from the most minor of doctrines to the very existence of God.
One night, I earnestly and desperately prayed to know who He is, for help. By then, I was closer to agnosticism than Christianity. Mere days later, I met the missionaries when somebody I used to vaguely know from school (and hadn’t spoken to in over three years) added me to a group chat with Elders McIntosh and Beam. God sent me who I needed when I needed them.
The two things I remember from the conversation played a huge role in my conversion. When I joined a video call (late) Elder Beam was reading Moroni’s promise (see Moroni 10:3–5). His companion, Elder McIntosh, and he carried a sweet and sacred Spirit which impacted me. I didn’t recognise it at the time (two months would pass before I’d learn to recognise it) but it drew me to them. I wanted to know them; I wanted to know what they had to say.
From then on, I started meeting with them and learning of the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, of the Book of Mormon, of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Everything was so foreign to me, but I felt the Spirit every time. I started reading it for myself when (newly transferred in) Elder Baldwin invited me to read the Book of Enos. From there, I couldn’t stop reading. Even though I still didn’t believe it, I couldn’t stop. I knew something was different about the Book of Mormon. I thought about it constantly. It strengthened my faith in a loving God.
Over the next few months, I did a deep dive into researching the Church of Jesus Christ, the positives and negatives. In doing so, in meeting the missionaries and following through on the commitments I made, in praying, in reading the Book of Mormon alongside the Bible, every single question I had was answered fully. The biggest questions such as the nature of God (I was never fully satisfied with descriptions of a triune God) were answered. The smallest questions I had were answered just the same. It was a miracle.
When I was finally blessed with the foundations of a testimony in this great latter-day work, it was not yet the end of my journey to baptism. Why? Because I was aware I would have to sacrifice many friendships and relationships I’d had with people my entire life. I knew there were people who meant a great deal to me who would never want anything to do with me again — and they didn’t. I had spiritual leaders in my life tell me I was turning my back on Jesus Christ and what He’d done for me. More than anything else, that hurt me deeply. I investigated and learned more of the Church because I love my Saviour so much. If I didn’t love and believe the Bible as much as I did, or have the foundations I had, I would never have believed the Book of Mormon.
A few weeks later, I realised something: Jesus Christ walked the walk to Calvary for me, the least I could do is walk the walk to the baptism font, and beyond, even if I had to do so alone, without the friends I’d had for decades. I did so. Every sacrifice I made to join the Church of my Lord Jesus Christ was far outweighed by the bounteous and sacred blessings He gave me.
It was a long journey which took very close to 10 months. But the walk through the valley took me to the truth, to the temple, to my beautiful wife, and closer to my Saviour, Jesus Christ.
I know this is His Church. I know He is the Saviour and Redeemer of mankind. I know God is our loving Heavenly Father. I know we can come closer to them by reading the scriptures. I know we can be blessed and come closer to them by living the covenants we make in the font and in the holy temple. This is the true Church of Jesus Christ.

Following a church meeting, I was approached by a father whose only son had gone from being a promising, obedient youth to engaging in rebellion and sin in young manhood through the influence of friends.
Tenderly, the father recalled the son’s youth; the boy had been quiet, happy, and a hard worker on the family farm. It had always been the boy’s intention to honor the priesthood, including serving a mission. He had faithfully saved his money toward that goal. But the money was all gone now, along with his good intentions—washed away by a flood of drugs, alcohol, and immorality.
The faithful mother and father had tried every possible way to help their wayward son—loving, teaching, cajoling, praying, soliciting the help of priesthood leaders. But the son defiantly refused to listen or obey. “It’s my life!” he stormed at them. “I’ll do what I want. I’m the only one who gets hurt.” His response seemed like the foolish attitude of some of the children of Adam and Eve, our first parents, who carefully taught their children gospel truths, “[making] all things known unto their sons and their daughters.
“And Satan came among them, saying: I am also a son of God; and he commanded them, saying: Believe it not; and they believed it not, and they loved Satan more than God” (Moses 5:12–13).
The distraught, desperate father who had sought me out told of climbing a wooded hill and kneeling to pour out a grieving heart to Heavenly Father, asking why his son could not see the damage he was doing to himself and others. “Can’t he see his mother’s anguish or understand our pain?” he had asked. “Please, Heavenly Father, help our precious son in his moment of critical need.”
“What can we do?” this father asked me, tears sliding down his cheeks. “Has he gone too far to come back? Is there hope for him?”
The words of an angel directed to another rebellious son, Alma the Younger, came to my mind: “Behold, the Lord hath heard the prayers … of his servant, Alma, who is thy father; for he has prayed with much faith concerning thee that thou mightest be brought to the knowledge of the truth” (Mosiah 27:14). I assured the grieving father before me that his prayers had surely been heard, too, and that after he had done all he could do, there were some things that he must leave in the hands of a loving Heavenly Father. I told him that to the faithful all things are indeed possible and that he must continue in hope, never giving up.
After hearing of this young man’s transformation, the father who had sought me out in anguish went away with renewed hope that one day his son would be touched by the Spirit to repent and return to the peace, happiness, and security found only in the gospel of Jesus Christ. Gratefully, the man expressed abiding faith in a loving, merciful Heavenly Father with whom all things are possible.

I knew a young mother who lost her husband by death. The family had been in poor circumstances and the insurance policy was only $2,000, but it was like a gift from heaven. The company promptly delivered the check for that amount as soon as proof of death was furnished. The young widow concluded she should save this for emergencies, and accordingly deposited it in the bank. Others knew of her savings, and one kinsman convinced her that she should lend the $2,000 to him at a high rate of interest.

Years passed, and she had received neither principal nor interest. She noticed that the borrower avoided her and made evasive promises when she asked him about the money. Now she needed the money and it could not be had.

“How I hate him!” she told me, and her voice breathed venom and bitterness and her dark eyes flashed. To think that an able-bodied man would defraud a young widow with a family to support! “How I loathe him!” she repeated over and over. Then I told her my Bishop Kempton story, where a man forgave the murderer of his father. She listened intently. I saw she was impressed. At the conclusion there were tears in her eyes, and she whispered: “Thank you. Thank you sincerely. Surely I, too, must forgive my enemy. I will now cleanse my heart of its bitterness. I do not expect ever to receive the money, but I leave my offender in the hands of the Lord.”

Weeks later, she saw me again and confessed that those intervening weeks had been the happiest of her life. A new peace had overshadowed her and she was able to pray for the offender and forgive him, even though she never received back a single dollar. (See Spencer W. Kimball, The Miracle of Forgiveness, Bookcraft, 1969, pp. 293–94.)

A dozen years ago, in one of the countries of Africa, we had faithful members of the Church who had been meeting in their homes for several years. I went to that country to see if we could receive permission from the government to bring in missionaries and establish the Church. I met with a high-ranking government minister. He gave me 20 minutes to explain our position.
When I finished he said, “I do not see where anything you have told me is any different from what is currently available in our country. I see no reason to approve your request to bring missionaries into our country.”
He stood up to usher me out of his office. I was panic-stricken. I had failed. In a moment our meeting would be over. What could I do? I offered a silent prayer.
Then I had an inspired thought. I said to the minister, “Sir, if you will give me five more minutes, I would like to share one other thought with you. Then I will leave.” He kindly consented.
I reached for my wallet and removed this small For the Strength of Youth booklet, which I have always carried.
I said, “This is a little booklet of standards we give to all of the youth in our Church.”
I then read some of the standards I have mentioned tonight. When I finished he said, “You mean to tell me you expect the youth of your church to live these standards?”
“Yes,” I replied, “and they do.”
“That is amazing,” he said. “Could you send me some of these booklets so that I could distribute them to the youth of my church?”
I replied, “Yes,” and I did.
Several months later we received official approval from the government of that country to come and establish the Church.

I’m grateful that our youth leaders planned a visit to the temple. As we were preparing for this trip to Apia, Samoa, we were happy for this rare opportunity. We joyfully went into the temple to do baptisms for the dead—for those who are in the spirit world waiting for us to find our family history and do work for them.
During baptisms, I saw a young man in our group baptized for Faataga Agavale, my grandfather. I felt tears of joy in my eyes, and I knew his spirit was there. I was very happy we were able to do work for him in the temple.

One Sunday afternoon a few years ago, Benjamin’s dad gave him a piece of paper and suggested that he make something for family home evening. Now every Sunday Benjamin gets out his craft box and makes a project. He has made models of scripture stories like Jonah and the whale and Noah’s ark. It’s always a surprise to see what he will come up with.
Benjamin likes sharing his projects in family home evening. And when it’s time to sing the opening song, Benjamin volunteers to conduct it.

Laekin Vakalahi always knew that putting the Lord first in his life would shape his future. He has always loved playing sports, especially rugby and basketball.
As a young man he did not play sports on Sundays, as a rule, and he enjoyed going to church and youth activities, including seminary.
He had an opportunity to play rugby professionally but in 2021, he decided to serve a full-time mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, in the New Zealand Wellington Mission.
Laekin said, “I decided to put God first and serve a mission and then leave things in His hands.”
In 2023, Laekin’s parents and four brothers were on holiday in Hawaii when they met a scout from the Philadelphia Eagles National Football League team.
The scout was impressed with the stature and strength of the four brothers and asked if they had ever played American football.
The parents said, “No, but you really should see the size of our older son who is serving a mission in New Zealand. He is 6’ 5” (196 cms.) tall and weighs 320 (165 kgs.) pounds.”
The Eagles’ scout was so impressed with the stats and photos that he arranged with Laekin’s mission president to have Laekin do a workout in Wellington while the scout observed.
Always concerned about staying on task and following mission rules, Laekin became creative about getting all the scout’s assignments completed.
For example, he demonstrated his ability to lead by recording a class he taught in a zone conference. The Eagles were impressed with his honesty, character, and obedience in following the mission rules.
Following the completion of his mission, he worked closely with the scout on football fundamentals and had an official tryout with the team.
In April 2024, the Philadelphia Eagles signed Laekin to a three-year contract as an international developmental player.
Laekin said, “When you are playing at such a high level you could have a lot of pride or ego, but we need to remember that we are all equal in the eyes of God. Everyone needs to treat people the same, no matter who they are. Praying, reading my scriptures, and listening to Church music helps me to stay connected and grounded.”
Following his football career, Laekin hopes to get a university degree and a career in the film and video industry.

One day the sisters asked Monica’s mother to pray to know if she should be baptized, and she did. She read the scriptures every day, too, and one night she had a dream. In the dream she was looking for white clothes to wear to her baptism. She felt very happy and peaceful. When she woke up, she knew that Heavenly Father had answered her prayer.
The day before Monica’s ninth birthday, Monica and her mother were baptized. Her aunts and uncles and cousins and father and grandmother came—so did many people from the branch. It was a very happy day for everyone, but most of all for Monica and her mother.