Gospel Story Finder

“My dad was a farmer at heart. He had eighty acres that he farmed, although we lived in town. Dad and I used to spend a lot of time together, and we understood each other very well. He was very, very strong on obedience and felt that it was the most important principle. He never questioned any instruction or guidance that was given by Church leaders. He obeyed any directive they gave, and he instilled that desire to obey in his family. I remember Dad as being a strong disciplinarian, but he always tempered his discipline with love and concern. Once when he spanked me, he cried. But he felt that he had to execute the discipline in order to teach me obedience. I remember thinking then that it hurt him worse than it hurt me.”

As a sophomore moving to a new high school, I wanted to keep a low profile. Unfortunately, hazing was the norm at this school; thus no sophomore was safe from any number of abuses from the upperclassmen.
On one occasion, as I was preparing in the locker room to get ready for tennis practice, a senior and two juniors came barging in looking for any sophomores in the vicinity. Since I happened to be the only sophomore around, they wrestled me to the pool area and threw me in. They thought it was funny, and, frankly, so did I.
What happened in the aftermath, however, was anything but funny. One of the boys who grabbed me was caught and made an example of by being suspended from the basketball team. So much for keeping a low profile. I was blamed, and suddenly the school seemed more like a war zone than a place of learning and friendship.
This turned out to be one of the most difficult experiences of my life. I was yelled and sworn at, and I constantly felt humiliated. No one would believe the truth about the situation, so the ill treatment against me continued. I’m not exaggerating when I say I cried more during that time than the rest of my life combined.
In the midst of my suffering, I felt a deep need for comfort, and I turned to the scriptures to find counsel that might help. On one occasion I talked with my mother about the Book of Mormon and how I might develop my own testimony. We read one of her favorite scriptures, Alma 32:28, in which Alma compares gaining a testimony to planting a seed. He says, “If it be a true seed, or a good seed, … it will begin to swell within your breasts.”
After the discussion with my mother, I decided that I, too, wanted to know for myself. Over the next couple of months, I read in the Book of Mormon nearly every night, prayed, repented, and begged for my own witness of the truth. As I began to feel the spiritual “swelling motions” described by Alma, I began to know that the word was “good” and “delicious,” as the scripture said, but I wondered whether or not I had really received my answer. I wasn’t sure about what I was feeling until one day at church during a Sunday School lesson.
As I sat in my class and listened to my teacher, Brother Millard, speak by the power of the Spirit, I was overcome with the warmest and most beautiful feeling I had ever experienced. I cried through most of his lesson. When it was over, I went to sacrament meeting. Before the meeting began, Brother Millard put his arm around me and said, “Victor, you’ve had a special experience, haven’t you?” I replied that I had.
As sacrament meeting began, the feeling returned and tears again streamed down my face. For the first time in my life, I knew I had really felt the Holy Ghost and learned how to organize my life in such a manner that I could obtain the Spirit on my own.
I was amazed! I now knew for myself that God lives and that Moroni’s promise is true (see Moro. 10:3–5). I will forever be grateful for a Heavenly Father who, in the midst of my trials, allowed me to cry out in anguish for knowledge and understanding and who answered my prayers.

I’ve had many blessings in my life—spiritual blessings. I had good parents, a good education, material blessings like a good home. I always had enough to eat, always a bed to sleep in, and many, many other blessings. I had the opportunity of working in business capacities, and in this capacity, of seeing the world, seeing many people. I have had many opportunities, but the greatest blessing that has come to me came through humble missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
I want to express gratitude for all that I have to these young men that came to our home—not only that they came, but that they had love enough not to give up. I was a very hard case. I had thought that through my education, and through my background, and my history, and my family that I would be superior. I felt pity for the missionaries. I said, “Well, this fine young man, with such a poor message!” They didn’t give up. They came again and again and again. And I felt an authority radiating through them that was stronger and more than all the knowledge that I had in my previous life—the authority of the true love of Christ. I want to give thanks to this generation of missionaries who did not give up and to the mission president who had concern enough not to withdraw the missionaries from me. It was Elder Theodore M. Burton. I will never forget that.
I will tell you that I’m deeply convinced that this is in my life the most important blessing I have ever received. It changed my life totally. I began to realize that a man can know nothing important in this world unless he has knowledge of the gospel of Jesus Christ restored by his prophet, Joseph Smith, and follow-through by a living prophet, Spencer W. Kimball. Without this message I would not have a family like I have now. I would not have the love for my lovely wife that I have now, and I would not be able to be so proud of my children.

At the passing of my wife's father, we all experienced some sweet moments of deep reverence and quiet feelings of respect. Those feelings of reverence were most deeply felt for me during the time that we had the privilege of dressing his body in sacred apparel. I had never seen our sons more solemn, quiet and reverent. The Spirit settled into that room in a powerful and never-to-be-forgotten experience. We were each affected in our hearts and will never be the same.

Over the years, I have found that the things I learned about the temple as a young missionary in Ohio have blessed my family and me. For example, in the temple a year after we were married, my wife, Amy, and I received an impression that it was time to have a child. We were students, and because of tight finances I was tempted to cast the prompting aside. But the Lord was preparing us.
We had three miscarriages over the next two years, and I wondered, “Why the prompting to have children if we’re not able to have them?” Then we moved to California, worked with a fertility specialist, and finally had our first child, Mackenzie.
By following the inspiration we received in the temple, we began a process that took three years. If we had not followed the prompting when we did, it would probably have been at least another three years before we had our first child. We count that experience as a blessing of preparation and revelation.
We had a second child, Emma, but then we had another miscarriage and the loss of our son, Stewart. In subsequent months and years, as we sought peace, we learned that most of the symbols in the temple point us to the Savior and the healing balm only His Atonement can give.
I am grateful for the blessings of the temple. I testify to you that it is a place of preparation, revelation, and peace.

The ground began to tremble, and a shout went up from the members of the wagon train. “The buffalo are coming!”
Eight-year-old Emily held tightly to her mother’s hand as her father jumped to the ground, skillfully guiding their team of oxen into a circle formation with the other wagons. As 40 wagons and three carriages jammed together, Emily looked around for her older sister, Wilhelmina—“Willie” for short. Willie was traveling in the covered wagon ahead of theirs, riding on the spring seat with the driver.
Suddenly, a great herd of buffalo thundered over the hill behind them. Emily cried out and hid her face in her mother’s skirts as the fearsome beasts stampeded over the prairie and around the huddled wagon train.
When the dust cleared, Emily heard the wagonmaster calling for help and saw him carrying someone in his arms.
“Willie!” Emily cried. She ran toward her motionless sister and reached for her hand.
Mother spread a quilt on the ground, and the wagonmaster gently lowered Willie onto it. “She’s been badly injured,” he said. “It looks like she was thrown from the wagon.”
Emily stared in horror at the black stripe from a wagon wheel crossing Willie’s left shoulder to her right hip. The right side of her face was terribly cut and bruised, where either an ox or a buffalo had stomped on her.
Emily was so frightened that she started to cry. Mother put her arms around Emily as they knelt by Willie’s side.
Because Emily and Willie’s father was not a member of the Church, other priesthood holders, including their brothers and uncles, gave Willie a blessing. When they were finished, Willie stirred. Mother put her hand over Willie’s face and said, “Don’t open your eyes, dear.”
“Will she be all right?” Emily whispered.
Mother squeezed her hand while blinking back tears. “If it is Heavenly Father’s will.”
Suddenly, Emily remembered being taught by the missionaries back home in Delaware. They had said that if she had faith and believed in Heavenly Father, He would hear and answer her prayers.
Running toward a large rock, Emily dropped to her knees and prayed harder than she ever had before. “Please, Heavenly Father,” she said, “make Willie better.” A warm, peaceful feeling filled her heart, and she knew Heavenly Father was listening.
By the time Emily rejoined Willie, the company was setting up camp. Since Willie was unable to travel, the whole company would remain near Buffalo Creek for a time. “We will trust in the Lord that the weather and our supplies will hold out until Willie gets better,” Mother said.
As the wagon train waited for the smallest sign of improvement in Willie’s condition, they fasted and prayed, and the elders continued to pray for her and bless her.
Emily did what she could to help. She gave Willie water when she was thirsty. She read scriptures to Willie and told her stories. She gathered dried buffalo chips to be used as fuel for fire. Sometimes she helped the doctor gather herbs and roots from the prairie, preparing poultices [medicine] to help treat Willie. And every day, Emily prayed and prayed.
Three weeks later, Emily’s prayers were answered. Willie was well enough to travel! The company continued its westward journey.
“Oh, Willie,” Emily said as she sat in the back of the wagon with her sister. “I’m so glad Heavenly Father heard my prayers.”
Willie smiled. “I know that faith and prayers made me whole. What would I have done without you?”
Gingerly touching Willie’s brow, Emily said, “Your cuts are healing. Pretty soon you won’t be able to see them at all.” Emily snuggled close to her sister. “You’re a miracle, Willie.”
“So are you, Emily,” Willie said as she kissed her little sister on the cheek. “So are you.”

An incident reported to me recently illustrates the cooperative action of the Relief Society and the priesthood in laboring together in the Church family for the benefit of the sons and daughters of the Lord here upon the earth.
One cold January day, two visiting teachers called at the home of a family that had recently moved into the ward. There was no immediate response to their knock, but, feeling impressed to try again, the visiting teachers knocked a second time and a third.
The door finally opened a few inches, revealing a woman and a child bundled in coats and pajamas. The visiting teachers were reluctantly invited into the icy-cold house. In answer to their questions, framed with understanding and care, the woman tearfully revealed the family situation.
The student husband was desperately ill and in an intensive-care unit of the hospital. The doctor and hospital bills would take all the money the couple had saved for years to allow him to obtain additional schooling.
When their supply of fuel had been exhausted, the young wife and the child stayed in bed to keep warm, and the mother was trying to make one quart of milk and half a loaf of bread last for the remainder of the month.
When the visiting teachers offered help, the sister said, “My husband is proud. He wouldn’t want us to accept charity.”
The visiting teachers wisely explained that the Lord’s program of welfare is not one that robs the receiver of his pride or independence, but rather contributes to it. By gentle, loving persuasion the young wife finally gave permission for a call to be made to the Relief Society president.
Within a short time both the Relief Society president and the bishop arrived at the home. Soon fuel was delivered, the furnace was started, warm food was provided, and a food list was prepared. Then the bishop visited the husband in the hospital where encouragement was given to the sick man that his family was well taken care of. An administration followed in which the young man was reassured concerning his own condition. From that point on, he began to improve. The Relief Society education counselor who was assigned to personal welfare gave the wife suggestions of ways she could better manage the family’s limited resources and give service for commodities received.

Heber learned early the importance of hard work. After his father’s death, he and his mother struggled financially and eventually had to move from their beautiful home to a small, humble cabin. Refusing financial assistance from the Church, Sister Grant worked as a seamstress to support herself and her child. Young Heber helped her—running errands and pumping the treadle of the sewing machine when she became tired.

April told us her mother had died of a drug overdose when April was 14. April lived on the streets and had a baby she placed for adoption when she was 15. She struggled with her own drug addiction, started dealing drugs, and was eventually sent to prison.
“One day I wondered why I was even alive,” April said. “It wouldn’t have made a difference if I died. No one knew I was in prison. No one would even know I was gone.” She then prayed and asked God if He knew who she was.
The following week, a counselor in the prison handed her a letter from the girl she had placed for adoption.
“God must be looking out for you,” the counselor said.
“I write to my daughter now, and she visited me once,” April said. “I don’t know much about religion, but I know that God cares about me because He answered my prayer.”
After April shared her story, we all sat quietly with tears in our eyes.

I am grateful for people on the earth who love and appreciate little children. Last year I found myself late at night on an airplane bulging with passengers going north from Mexico City to Culiacan. The seats in the plane were close together, and every seat was taken, mostly by the gracious people of Mexico. Everywhere inside the plane there were packages and carry-on luggage of all sizes.
A young woman came down the aisle with four small children, the oldest of which appeared to be about four and the youngest a newborn. She was also trying to manage a diaper bag and a stroller and some bags. The children were tired, crying, and fussing. As she found her seat in the airplane, the passengers around her, both men and women, literally sprang to her aid. Soon the children were being lovingly and tenderly comforted and cared for by the passengers. They were passed from one passenger to another all over the airplane.
The result was an airplane full of baby-sitters. The children settled down in the caring arms of those who cradled them and, before long, went to sleep. Most remarkable was that a few men who were obviously fathers and grandfathers tenderly cradled and caressed the newborn child without any false, macho pride. The mother was freed from the care of her children most of the flight.
The only thing that I felt bad about was that no one passed the baby to me! I relearned that appreciation for and thoughtfulness and kindness to little children are an expression of the Savior’s love for them.

When William later hurt his back lifting a quarter beef, he took a laborer’s job in the dockyards at the same pay. Harbor activities intrigued him, and he carefully noticed the daily comings and goings of the many ships using the docks. One day he heard that a British naval vessel, the His Majesty’s Ship Eurotas, soon would sail for the South Pacific, and he immediately formulated a plan for reaching Zion. He enlisted in the British navy and joined the Eurotas’ crew as a butcher, hoping one day to go ashore in California and travel from there to Utah.
But once the “old twenty-eight gun sailing frigate, converted into a screw propellor ship” cleared port, his immigration hopes vanished. At a surprise meeting the commanding officer opened secret orders and announced to the crew: “My men, we are going to the Crimea, the seat of war!”
Because the ship operated with but half a crew, William soon learned various sailing skills. As he later wrote: “I not only had my work to perform as a butcher, but after it was done, I then had to assist the gunners’ crew in whatever they were doing. The gunners are almost invariably excellent seamen … I was therefore under very practical men and learned to do considerable sailor’s work which I have always found useful to me even in Utah.”
Lisbon, Portugal. Gibraltar. Algiers. Malta. Constantinople, Turkey. At each stop William went ashore to obtain meat for the crew. And all along the way they received “dreadful” war reports from the Crimea.
After cruising off the Crimean peninsula, the Eurotas docked near Sebastopol [Sevastopol], a city from which British and allied troops had driven Russian units at terrible cost to both sides. To William’s great joy he found that among the thousands of British servicemen camped in the area were enough Latter-day Saints for a “field church” (Church meetings conducted at the place where an army is camped rather than a church building) to be established. He eagerly participated.

Clark and I can both attest to moments of exhaustion in our marriage and parenting responsibilities. Here’s a picture of our young family at a Red Sox game—look at those dark bags under my husband’s eyes! He was a new faculty member at the Harvard Business School. We had young children, yet he was always up early with our babies. He took night shifts with bottles and changing diapers. He always came home from work ready to focus on me and on the children. He was present in our lives, and I knew he was putting me and our family first, even with his considerable responsibilities at work. It wasn’t always easy, and sometimes he was really tired.

He wasn’t the only one. This was particularly true when we had our twins. Those early years were such hard work! Here I am holding our twins. Those years now feel like a blur. These are our twins today, graduated from high school and starting college. They are smart, independent, faithful, hardworking young women who have grown and been nurtured in our home. When I look back at all of those late nights and early mornings, I sit in awe at who those girls have become. I marvel at the role I was allowed to play in their lives as their mother.

My friend has always struggled to fit in and feel comfortable around people. I can relate and wanted to serve her more.

I realized I found my place by going to church. I found the most joy there. I thought the Church could help my friend out too.

I felt prompted to first invite her to a fun youth activity, then to Church on Sunday, then to my sister’s farewell, and then to meet with the missionaries.

As we act, Heavenly Father blesses us. When we do our part, He does His. I have seen that in my life. I know that when we “go and do,” we are becoming more like Christ. Not only that, but it simply makes you feel good, and God will guide us to where He needs His work done.

Hannah L., 16, Utah, USA

It was a cold day, and I was scared. I shook hard in my speed suit. It was my first ski race since I had been injured. The course was a long blur of blue and red gates. My coach skied by me.
“Noah, are you OK?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, but I was actually scared out of my skin!
It was time for me to be at the start gate. Oh no! I thought as I skied down to the start gate. But then I remembered something I had learned in Primary: I can pray anytime, anywhere.
So I prayed, Heavenly Father, please help me to be safe and do well. Right then, I pushed out of the start.
What came next was natural instinct. Left, then right, gate after gate, for what felt like days until I finally crossed the finish line. Boy, I was slow! I thought. But I looked at the timer. I was 12th in my category!
“That was so good!” Mom said.
During the excitement, I silently thanked my Heavenly Father for answering my prayer.

M?l? e lelei! I’m Lui, and I shine my light by sharing what I have with others.
I live on a big island in Tonga. I have six sisters and four brothers. We live close to the Nuku’alofa Tonga Temple.
Our beautiful island has many plants and animals. I’m in class four at the Ocean of Light Primary School, and science is my favorite subject.
My father grows crops, so we have plenty to eat. But many widows (women whose husbands have died) and other families don’t have their own crops. So my parents take them some of our food. I like going along to help!
The widows we visit use coconut husks to make fires to cook their food. When we take food to them, I remind my parents to take coconut husks too. I like to help get the fire going!
Heavenly Father blesses me when I help others—not with money but with wisdom and knowledge. I love to help and share what I have with others.

We all have opportunities to proclaim the gospel by being good examples in our homes, at work, at school, and in our communities. One young woman’s patriarchal blessing said that wherever she traveled, people would judge the Church by her example. Since then, she has traveled a great deal—in a college performing group, and later in her employment. She has remembered that counsel and has had many opportunities to discuss the Church with nonmembers.
Another sister, a recent convert, was startled one Sunday when a sister in her ward spoke about dressing with the intention to someday go to the temple and receive one’s endowment. “That sister’s counsel made a strong impression on me,” she says. “As I thought about it, I felt a desire to find out just how I should dress if I had been to the temple.” She later discarded her revealing or inappropriate clothing, and she made future purchases with Church standards in mind. Two years later, when she received her endowment, her wardrobe did not need to be changed; it was both modest and attractive.

A few years ago, I spoke to a friend who had attended a church meeting earlier that day and enquired how it was. The response was negative; apparently the talks were poor and the meeting not at all edifying. Later that day I spoke to another friend who had attended the same meeting and I made the same enquiry. ‘It was wonderful’ was the response.
I have often pondered about the experience of these two friends. Both attended the same meeting and heard the same talks, yet one had left spiritually hungry, and the other completely nourished. It’s possible that the subject of the talks simply resonated more with my second friend. However, I imagine it was much more than that. My second friend had gone spiritually prepared to listen with an open heart and with a desire to act on that which they heard.
Certainly, those assigned to speak or teach should diligently seek the guidance of the Spirit in relation to the topic, the content, and the presentation of their instruction. My experience though is that those attending have at least equal responsibility to prepare themselves spiritually so that they can be edified and to possess a willingness to act on that which they hear.
When I read the Book of Mormon, I feel the great power of the words of Nephi, of King Benjamin, of Alma, Mosiah and others. At general conference, that same power is present from our prophet, President Russell M. Nelson and the other leaders and general officers of the Church.
Consider just a few instructions from general conference in recent years:
“But, my dear brothers and sisters, so many wonderful things are ahead. In coming days, we will see the greatest manifestations of the Savior’s power that the world has ever seen. Between now and the time He returns ‘with power and great glory,’ He will bestow countless privileges, blessings, and miracles upon the faithful.”2
“I am learning that Heavenly Father is more interested in my growth as a disciple of Jesus Christ than He is with my comfort. I may not always want it to be that way—but it is!
“Living in convenience does not bring power. The power we need to withstand the heat of our day is the Lord’s power, and His power flows through our covenants with Him.”3
“Nothing opens the heavens quite like the combination of increased purity, exact obedience, earnest seeking, daily feasting on the words of Christ in the Book of Mormon, and regular time committed to temple and family history work.”4
“The Savior loves to restore what you cannot restore; He loves to heal wounds you cannot heal; He loves to fix what has been irreparably broken; He compensates for any unfairness inflicted on you; and He loves to permanently mend even shattered hearts.”5
What wonderful instruction, edification, and invitations to act from these and the hundreds of other inspired talks. As we participate in general conference, either in person, through live streams, or reading or watching the talks afterwards, I invite each of us to spiritually prepare to be edified, and to be willing to act on that which we hear. Just as King Benjamin counselled the people of his time, so will the leaders of today guide us through these precarious and tumultuous times, building our faith in Jesus Christ and inviting us to make choices which will keep us safely on the covenant pathway.

When Jim returned from his mission, I was privileged to join his family at the airport to welcome him. As I drove to the airport, I reviewed our friendship and Jim’s growth and maturation. I speculated about his appearance and his demeanor.
He was the last person to emerge from the jetway, which caused extra anxiety for his waiting family. Finally, he appeared—taller than I remembered, and thinner. His naturally curly hair was darker and was cut so short that there was no curl. He wore the missionary uniform: dark suit, white shirt, dark tie, black “mailman” shoes. The suit was very worn and looked like it could stand on its own and still hold the shape of Jim’s body. He was bent a little from the weight of his carry-on luggage.
When he saw us, he smiled a little, then dropped his head as he walked the last few feet of the walkway. When he raised his head again, his eyes were red and he was weeping. He dropped his bags and embraced his mother in a tight hug and cried openly as he kissed her, then held her in his arms for a full minute more. He released her to repeat this exchange with his brother, sister, and his father.
It is a rare privilege to observe such an exchange of pure love among people. I thought, this is how it must be to return to our heavenly parents after completing our earthly missions. What a sweet experience to return, knowing you’ve served faithfully.
Jim then turned to me, and without hesitation, embraced me in a bear hug. As we parted, we both wiped tears from our eyes. And he said, “Thanks for being here.”
I spent another two hours with Jim that morning before we had to head in different directions. During that time, I watched him start a conversation with the man next to him while waiting for his luggage. Within 15 minutes, he had given the man a Book of Mormon and a pamphlet and had parted as a friend. I saw him spend a few private tender moments with his younger brother and sister as he sensed their need and focused on them individually. He gave half of his lunch to his little brother, when the ten-year-old complained of being hungry still.
Jim related a few mission experiences: of singing a duet in church with his companion, of a Sunday when he had 17 investigators at church on the same day, and of the mission farewell the night before. He had been amazed that so many of the missionaries had wanted to gather to say good-bye to him. Jim wept again as he expressed his concern for a companion who had recently lost his dad to a sudden, unexpected death. Here was compassion, love, humility, confidence, and power. Sitting before me, in his grayed shirt, wrinkled tie, and well-worn coat, was someone who had been seemingly magically transformed. His smile was the only trace of the shy, quiet boy who hesitated to pray in front of someone.

Ninety-nine percent of the students at the Church’s Liahona High School are members of the Church. Sione Tu‘alau Latu, who attended in the 1950s, was not. Like many students not of our faith who attend, Sione gained a testimony and was baptized. He remembers: “I came from a poor family with nine children. We lived on a small island. My father died before I was born, and I wanted to do something to help. I decided to try and go to the Church College [now Brigham Young University—Hawaii], but I knew I would have to pass a difficult government exam. I was afraid. I had been taught that if you fast and pray, the Lord will give you the answer. So I began to look for a place to pray in private. On my way home from school, I passed a taro field with its tall, broad-leafed plants. I thought, If Joseph Smith can pray in a grove of trees and get an answer to his prayers, then I can pray here and get an answer to my prayers. I began to fast and returned to the taro patch. I made sure nobody was around, and then I knelt beneath the broad taro leaves. I prayed for what seemed like a long time. I felt so close to my Heavenly Father. When I got up, my shirt was wet with tears.”

Sione Latu passed the test and got a scholarship. “I knew these things came to me in answer to my prayer under the taro plant,” he remembers. “I knelt and thanked the Lord and promised Him I would come back and help my family and my country.”

Brother Latu did come back and has served his people as a longtime Church leader and a gifted businessman. He is well suited for his calling as director of public affairs for the Church, where he sees the growing positive effect Latter-day Saints are having on the nation of Tonga.

I remember a defining moment while I was serving in the mission office in Chile. One night after dinner, my companion and I were helping the wife of our mission president clear the dishes before we went out to teach. As we finished, and somewhat out of the blue, she asked, “Elder Christensen and Elder Romney, have you felt the Spirit today?” Without waiting for our answer, she began teaching us that one of the most important ways of confirming that we are on the right track is by feeling the Spirit. She continued by emphasizing that, given all the challenges and distractions in life, we need the daily reassurance that we are both worthy of and guided by the Holy Ghost. She invited us to never go to bed at night without having recognized the feelings of the Spirit sometime throughout the day.