Gospel Story Finder

A 14-year-old sister was all dressed up to go to a Young Women activity at a time in her life when she felt very unsure about herself. She was quietly and self-consciously inching her way toward the front door, hoping not to be noticed by all the young men in the living room who were visiting with her older brother Russell. She was given a life-changing boost when her older brother interrupted his conversation and said to her in front of all his friends, “My, Emily, you look pretty tonight!”
A small thing? No. There are young women who claim that they would not have made it through those growing-up years without the encouragement and support of their older brothers.

Ordained an Apostle in 1882 when he was only 25 years old, Heber worried that he was not capable or worthy of the trust that had been placed in him. While on a visit to Native Americans in Arizona, he left his companions to pray and meditate about the matter. He later explained that while he was alone he “seemed to see” a council on the other side of the veil. The council was discussing who should fill two vacancies in the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. Heber’s father and the Prophet Joseph Smith proposed Heber’s name. That satisfied Heber’s concerns. “It was also given to me,” Heber said, “that that was all these men … could do for me; from that day it depended upon me and upon me alone as to whether I made a success of my life or a failure.”10

In 1816 the French physician René Laënnec was convinced that if he could listen carefully to the sounds made by his patients’ lungs and hearts, he would hear many clues to their conditions. But he found it difficult to isolate the swish of the lungs or the lub-dub of the beating heart. Many of his patients were so fat that the sounds coming from their chests were lost.
One day Dr. Laënnec was watching children play on a pile of timber. He saw one boy put his ear to the end of a long beam while another tapped on the opposite end. The sound traveled along the wood. At once Laënnec saw the answer to his problem. He hurried back to his hospital, took a paper-covered book, and rolled it tightly into a tube. To everyone’s astonishment, he then put one end of the tube to a patient’s chest and applied his ear to the other. As he expected, he heard the heart sounds clearly. Then he made little wooden “listening trumpets” on a lathe, and the stethoscope was invented.

But on Sunday, 11 September 1983, at about three o’clock in the morning, I had a dream. I dreamed that I saw a native American woman with long braids streaked with gray. She was stirring something in a cooking pot. In my dream, I was in her home. Stretched animal skins formed the walls and roof, and poles of clean natural wood supported the walls, which were lashed together with leather strips. The home was small in circumference, but the roof was high enough for me to stand comfortably.
The woman spoke with me, and we talked for some time. I felt comfortable being with her and felt her warm hospitality. I don’t remember what was said, but she told me her name over and over again—Nanah-ku-chi. Another woman was with her, holding a child about two or three years old, with black shoulder-length hair. Their clothing, simple in design, appeared to be made from animal skins, cleaned and softened.
Three times the Spirit prompted me to get up and write, until I finally climbed out of bed and found paper and a pencil. I then sat at the dining-room table and wrote the words that came into my mind.
The Spirit made known to me that, if I were faithful, I would be led to find my ancestors’ names, and that Nanah-ku-chi, one of the women I had seen in the dream, was my ancestor. I seemed to hear in my mind, “Now is the time to labor for thy dead.”
I felt prompted to go to Philadelphia, Mississippi, where I would be given the names of those whose temple work needed to be done. “Be faithful, and it shall come unto thee line upon line,” the Spirit seemed to say. I have always believed in personal revelation, but this experience carried with it a force far beyond what I had expected.

My family and I were baptized in General Santos, Philippines, on 5 February 1995. At that time I was a freshman in high school, and I had a good life. My parents provided me with many nice things, and I was studying in a private school. My father worked at a pineapple plantation, and my mother managed our chain-saw business.
There were seven in our family. Even though we lived far from the meetinghouse, we were always there for Sunday services and other activities.
One day my father took a day off work to help my mother with her job; she had to go to school with my brother and sister and me to pay our tuition. On that day somebody hired our chain-saw operator to cut down some coconut trees. My father had to supervise the job.
While we were at school, one of the coconut trees that was being cut fell on a very expensive jeep. My mother went quickly to the place where it had happened. The owner of the jeep was very angry and demanded complete payment for the ruined jeep. My mother felt as though the whole world had fallen on her. We didn’t have that much money. My father requested an early retirement, but his retirement benefits were not enough to cover the damages. The chain-saw operator was arrested. Our chain saws were taken away—as were our house, land, and belongings. In a moment, everything we owned was gone. My father decided to go away, leaving our family to face the consequences alone.
It was a very hard time for all of us, but we didn’t lose our faith and hope. The day my mother had to go to court, we fasted and prayed. Fasting and prayer brought her comfort.
We had nothing left, not even a roof over our heads, but the Lord helped us. Indeed, He helped us through our bishop, who took us to his home to live with his family. Later another member offered his property for us to stay on until we could recover.
When the new school year was about to begin, I prayed that my brother, sister, and I could study again. Through prayer, faith, and hope, we were able to go back to the school where we had enrolled before, even though we did not have any money. I felt the love of our Heavenly Father then more than at any other time in my life.
In a difficult situation, Heavenly Father will help us if we stay faithful, prayerful, and obedient. He helped my family start all over again and kept us going. I know that if we continue to obey the commandments, we will continue to be blessed.

Aurelia Spencer Rogers began at a very young age to choose the right and do good. She was six years old when her parents joined the Church. Her family moved from Deep River, Connecticut, to Nauvoo, Illinois. When the Saints were forced to leave Nauvoo, Aurelia’s mother died, leaving seven young children. They and their father crossed the Missouri River and went to Winter Quarters, Nebraska, where he built a log cabin for them to live in. When Aurelia was 12, her father was called to serve a mission in Great Britain. While he was gone, Aurelia and her 14-year-old sister, Ellen, took care of the family.
Throughout her life, Aurelia loved and was concerned about children. When she was a young married woman, she felt that parents needed help in teaching their children the gospel. When the Primary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was established in 1878, Aurelia was called to be its first president. Today, all of us can enjoy Primary because Aurelia Spencer Rogers followed Heavenly Father’s plan, choosing the right and doing good.

The scarcity of jobs and the financial difficulty of starting out as a couple make many young Ghanaians put off marriage. But Kofi Opare tells other returned missionaries in their mid- and late twenties that it’s a mistake to delay. “You have to forget all the hardship, and do it.”
At 26, Kofi was about the average age for a Ghanaian bridegroom. Like most young member couples, he and his wife, Theresa, had a legally binding traditional marriage. He visited her parents and brought gifts—money, in place of the customary alcoholic beverage; cloth; a hymnbook for Theresa; and her engagement ring.
That ceremony took place in December 1994, but Kofi and Theresa chose not to live together as husband and wife until they could have a formal wedding at an LDS chapel in June 1995. They wanted the influence of the Church in their married life from the very beginning. In the interim, they dealt with practical details—saving cash for all the costs of starting a household and securing a place to live.
Theresa has a steady income from her seamstress shop, but Kofi has to take part-time work as he can get it. Despite this, Theresa says, she and Kofi felt that “you have to make a bold decision” and go ahead. But a wise Latter-day Saint man, she adds, will find a woman in the Church who understands the eternal purposes of marriage and will not demand material things. “It takes two to make a team, to make a marriage work.”

When I was called as an Area Seventy in 2020 and assigned to the Birmingham coordinating council, I had a very strong impression that this would be a special time of growth for the Church in that area. Alongside the boundary changes to strengthen the Birmingham Stake, and the re-establishing of the England Birmingham Mission office there, my heart leapt when President Russell M. Nelson announced the proposed temple at the April 2021 general conference.
The recent announcement that the England Birmingham Temple is to be built on the site at Penns Lane in Sutton Coldfield has special meaning for myself, and for many others who have visited this site over the almost sixty years that it has been in use by the Church.
As a young boy, I frequently visited the mission home whilst my father served there—first as district president under the leadership of mission president George Cannon, and then as a counsellor to his successor, Clifford Johnson. I enjoyed the feeling of the Spirit there, as well as my first experience of the old missionary favourite, ‘Sloppy Joes’.
Fifteen years or so later, the mission home was converted into the meetinghouse for the Sutton Coldfield Ward, into which my wife, Debbie, was baptised in 1979. Thus, in 1984 we were married civilly in the chapel (the former mission home) before going to the London England Temple later that day.
By the early nineties, a new chapel had been built next door, and as a serving bishop by that time, I was able to conduct the marriage ceremony of my mother-in-law and then my nephew there.
This site already holds so many special personal memories. I am so grateful that what is already very sacred ground for me is now going to be a house of the Lord. As President Nelson said, “With the dedication of each new temple, additional godly power comes into the world to strengthen us and counteracts the intensifying efforts of the adversary.”
I am looking forward to the additional spiritual influence that this new temple of the Lord will have on those who visit it, and on the community around it who will be blessed by its presence.

Four years ago I spoke in this setting about couples serving full-time missions. My prayer was that “the Holy Ghost [would] touch hearts, and somewhere a spouse … [would] quietly nudge his or her companion, and a moment of truth [—a moment of decision—would] occur.” One sister later wrote me about that experience. She said, “We were sitting in the comfort of our family room enjoying conference on television. … As you spoke, my heart was touched so deeply. I looked over at my husband, and he looked at me. That moment changed my life forever.”

The Young Women in the Hemet Third Ward, Hemet California Stake, used their artistic talents to provide a quiet activity for children waiting to be sealed to their parents in the temple. The girls painted wooden dolls and puzzles for the children to play with.
After their project was completed, the girls were told they could see their toys in use when they went on their next trip to do baptisms for the dead. Now they have other reasons to look forward to going to the temple!

Early in her marriage, Lucy prepared herself to raise a prophet. On one occasion she became seriously ill, and the doctors said she would die. Lucy records that she “made a solemn covenant with God that if He would let me live I would endeavor to serve him according to the best of my abilities.” After a voice assured her that she would live, she told her mother, “The Lord will let me live, if I am faithful to the promise which I made to him, to be a comfort to my mother, my husband, and my children.”3

How do you stand out in a field of very qualified students? That was the question facing Liberty Belleza, a native of Muntilupa City, Philippines.
Her hometown was conducting a search among the city’s 15 high schools to find the ten most outstanding students based on scholarship, talent, and extracurricular activities, and Liberty was a finalist.
Liberty, 17, a member of the Las Pinas Second Ward, Las Pinas Stake, was interviewed, given an IQ test, and asked to perform in the talent presentation segment. But it was in the interview portion, with a group of dignitaries as panelists, that Liberty did something surprising. Instead of talking about academics, she changed the focus.
“I introduced myself as a Latter-day Saint, and after that their questions were almost all related to our religion,” Liberty says. “I told them about the Book of Mormon, and I told them about the Word of Wisdom and the Young Women values.”
In the end, Liberty was one of the ten selected, and she is now a freshman at the University of Philippines. “It was a good experience for me, especially when I bore my testimony. It felt good to share the gospel,” she says.

In 1947 Elder Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994), then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, called my grandfather, James H. Walker, to be president of the Taylor stake in Raymond, Alberta, Canada. Until that time my grandmother, Fannye Walker, had served for many years as the stake Young Women president. She loved this assignment.

When Elder Benson extended the call to President Walker, he said that President Walker’s wife should not continue to serve as stake Young Women president so that she could support him in his responsibilities and so that others outside their family could have the opportunity to serve. Grandma was unhappy. She loved the young women, loved her calling, and wanted to continue to serve in that capacity.

Years later President Benson recounted the experience to me. He said, “Your grandmother was very disappointed when we released her. But the next time I saw her, she told me that she understood and accepted the need for her to be released.”

I have seminary at 6 a.m., before school. I wake up really early to have time to eat breakfast, have family prayer, and walk to the church. But the more I go to seminary, the more I see that waking up early is worth it!
The teachers are really great and always teach with the Spirit. They are wise and know so much about the gospel, which made me excited to go and learn more.
Going to seminary each morning helped me be brave enough to share the gospel with two classmates and helped me explain the scriptures. Seminary also helped me be brave enough to stand up for my beliefs. I was listening to the radio one morning, and a man was saying Joseph Smith was a liar. I was really frustrated by this because I had gained a strong testimony of Joseph Smith in seminary and knew that what the man was saying wasn’t true.
I told my seminary teacher about it, and he suggested I write a letter to the man and share my testimony of Joseph Smith. I wrote the letter and bore my testimony about Joseph Smith and the Church. It helped me calm down and not be so frustrated. He never responded, but I felt a confirmation of my testimony while I was writing. It made me really grateful that I had gained such a strong testimony of the Prophet and the gospel in seminary.
Raquel B., Argentina

On a trip to a nearby city in Estonia, I saw a man begging for money. Amazingly, I recognized him from when I served as a missionary in that city 10 years earlier. He was carrying a big bag of plastic bottles, just as before, to collect for recycling money. I remembered he always asked for spare change, and if you gave him some he would ask if you had any more.
I was shocked to see him. And after 10 years he was still the same––a little more gray, but it looked like he had been living the same life begging for money day after day. I thought about the wonderful 10 years I had lived in the meantime, which included marrying in the temple, gaining an education, finding a good job, and enjoying good health.
I figured this might be the last time I saw him, and I felt like I should give him something. The problem was I only had a bill that was worth more than I was willing to give. I cringed at the choice I had––give him nothing or give him more than I wanted. I decided it wouldn’t really make a big difference for me and it would make his day, so I gave him the money.
Less than two days later I found myself in a similar situation, but this time I was the one begging for mercy. I had mixed up the date for an important scholarship application. I thought I had turned it in two weeks early, but I was horrified when I double-checked the date and saw that I had sent it in one day late.
The sum of the scholarship was exactly 100 times the amount I had given to the beggar, and the irony was not lost on me. I found myself begging for mercy, both in prayer to my Heavenly Father and via email to the university officials. They said they would include the application but note it was late.
My prayer was answered and I was blessed to receive the scholarship, which financially helped my wife and me a lot. But more importantly this experience taught me a valuable lesson: are we not all beggars before God? (see Mosiah 4:19).

The story is told of Ali Hafed, a wealthy ancient Persian who owned much land.
An old priest told him that if he had a diamond the size of his thumb, he could purchase a dozen farms. “If you will find a river that runs through white sands, between high mountains, in those white sands you will always find diamonds.”
Said Ali Hafed, “I will go.”
So he sold his farm and away he went in search of diamonds. After years of searching, he had spent all his money, and he passed away in rags and wretchedness.
Meanwhile, the man who purchased Ali Hafed’s farm one day led his camel out into the garden to drink, and as the animal put his nose into the shallow waters, the farmer noticed a curious flash of light in the white sands of the stream. Reaching in, he pulled out a black stone containing a strange eye of light. In the black stone was a diamond. According to the story, this marked the discovery of the most valuable diamond mines in the history of the ancient world.
Had Ali Hafed remained at home and dug in his own cellar or anywhere in his own fields, rather than traveling in strange lands where he eventually faced starvation and ruin, he would have had “acres of diamonds.”1

Recently I saw a young teen-aged friend, Jami Palmer, whom I have known for several years. She is recovering from cancer. She has endured the diagnosis. She has undergone surgery and painful chemotherapy. Today she is a bright, beautiful young lady and looking to the future with confidence and with faith. I learned that in her darkest hour, when any future appeared somewhat grim, her leg where the cancer was situated would require multiple surgeries. A long-planned hike with her Young Women class up to Timpanogos Cave was out of the question—she thought. Jami told her friends they would have to undertake the hike without her. I’m confident there was a catch in her voice and disappointment in her heart. But then the other young women responded emphatically, “No, Jami, you are going with us!”

“But I can’t walk,” came the anguished reply.

“Then, Jami, we’ll carry you to the top!” And they did.

Today, the hike is a memory, but in reality it is much more. James Barrie, the Scottish poet, declared: “God gave us memories, that we might have June roses in the December of our lives.” None of those precious young women will ever forget that memorable day when, I am confident, a loving Heavenly Father looked down with a smile of approval and was well pleased.

At a CES devotional in 2013, Elder David A. Bednar told the story of a worthy priesthood holder named John who had recently returned home from serving a mission and married a wonderful young woman named Heather. “Approximately three weeks after their temple marriage, John was diagnosed with bone cancer. Because cancer nodules were also discovered in his lungs, the prognosis was not good.”

Over the next few months, John underwent chemotherapy and a surgical procedure to remove a large tumor in his leg. Elder Bednar visited him and Heather in the hospital, and John asked if he would give him a priesthood blessing. Elder Bednar was then inspired to ask him, “I know you have the faith to be healed, but do you have the faith not to be healed?”

John later reported, “Having the faith not to be healed seemed counterintuitive, but that perspective changed the way my wife and I thought and allowed us to put our trust fully in the Father’s plan for us. … As we prayed, our petitions changed from ‘Please make me whole’ to ‘Please give me the faith to accept whatever outcome Thou hast planned for me.’” [6]

When the missionaries showed me the filmstrip of the Prophet Joseph Smith’s First Vision, it was difficult for me to contain my tears. The story of his search for truth was in some ways similar to my own.
At that time, I was 20 years old and living in Italy, the land of my birth. For five years I had been looking for answers my parents’ religion had not been able to give me. I had sought these answers in other religions and philosophies, but something seemed lacking in all of them. During the year before I met the missionaries, that search had become the most important thing in my life. I distanced myself from some of my friends and even left the university where I had been studying. My relatives could not understand me.
At the end of 1984, I met the missionaries on the street and gave them my address. I knew very little about the Church, but for some reason I wanted to speak to them.
Some days later I was in my room. I opened my heart to God, asking Him to show me what He wanted me to do. As I prayed I felt a great peace surround me. At that exact moment, the doorbell rang. When the missionaries came in, I knew they had the answers I sought.

Not too many miles from Boston rests a large boulder on Lexington Green. Inscribed on this rock, which I read again a short time ago, are the words which Captain Parker gave to his minutemen on April 19, 1775, nearly 200 years ago:
Stand your ground, don’t fire unless fired upon, But if they mean to have a war Let it begin here. And it began.
Said Webster, “They poured out their generous blood like water before they knew whether it would fertilize the land of freedom or of bondage.”
But they aroused their fellow Americans. Within one year John Adams faced the body of men who were deliberating on whether to adopt the Declaration of Independence. With the inspiration of heaven resting on him, Adams was said to have declared:
Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand and my heart to this vote. It is true, indeed, that in the beginning we aimed not at independence. But there’s a Divinity which shapes our ends. . . . Why, then, should we defer the Declaration? . . . You and I, indeed, may rue it. We may not live to the time when this Declaration shall be made good. We may die; die Colonists, die slaves, die, it may be, ignominiously and on the scaffold.
Be it so. Be it so.
If it be the pleasure of Heaven that my country shall require the poor offering of my life, the victim shall be ready. . . . But while I do live, let me have a country, or at least the hope of a country, and that a free country.
But whatever may be our fate, be assured . . . that this Declaration will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may cost blood; but it will stand and it will richly compensate for both.
Through the thick gloom of the present, I see the brightness of the future as the sun in heaven. We shall make this a glorious, an immortal day. When we are in our graves, our children will honor it. They will celebrate it with thanksgiving, with festivity, with bonfires, and illuminations. On its annual return they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears, not of subjection and slavery, not of agony and distress, but of exultation, of gratitude and of joy.
Sir, before God, I believe the hour is come. My judgment approves this measure, and my whole heart is in it. All that I have, and all that I am, and all that I hope, in this life, I am now ready here to stake upon it; and I leave off as I began, that live or die, survive or perish, I am for the Declaration. It is my living sentiment, and by the blessing of God it shall be my dying sentiment, Independence now, and Independence forever.