Gospel Story Finder

“It’s not fair,” I muttered to no one in particular, but my best friend, Stephanie, heard me.
“What’s not fair?” she asked.
As we walked home from school together, I tried to explain. I began by saying that I’d always been a tomboy and that I’d never learn to be a “little mother,” even though I was the oldest of four children. I absolutely hated doing the dishes, and I hated arguing with my mom.
I kicked a pebble in disgust because home seemed rotten sometimes.
“Not only that,” I complained, “my parents don’t even live under the same roof.” Stephanie, who had only recently begun teaching me about the Church, was very quiet for a moment. Later, she would tell me that during that time in her life she had been hesitant about establishing friendships with people whose homes had such a different atmosphere than what she was used to. Nevertheless, she quickly came to a decision.
After walking along the road a little farther, she decided to use a scripture, rather than trying to tell me what was wrong with my attitude. Quoting the words of Nephi she said:
“And it came to pass that I, Nephi, said unto my father: I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (1 Ne. 3:7).
The quotation from her church’s scriptures was new to me because I had never read the Book of Mormon, although she had challenged me to do so. Stephanie knew that I’d been taught the Ten Commandments and that I was familiar with the commandment to honor parents. She told me that I could obey the commandments because the Lord would help me, and that I could solve my problems by trusting that the Lord would prepare a way for me.
Today, four years later, I enjoy a really good friendship with both of my parents. I am also a member of the Church. Although I experienced family pressure not to join and I only had a small testimony, I persisted, waited, and built up my testimony.
Finally, ten days after my 18th birthday, I was able to be baptized. How did I last so long without becoming discouraged or giving up? I trusted in the Lord, and he prepared a way for me to obey his commandments.

Missionaries have been living in this apartment for the last two and a half years, so we’ve got a lot of New Eras. In fact, two boxes full! Each issue contains its own special message. After we have read and reread them, we loan them out to our English-speaking friends and investigators. It’s a fine missionary tool. The beautiful pictures also make fantastic birthday, anniversary, and get-well cards, as well as many other types of cards. We also use the pictures in our proselyting program.
Elders F. A. Ricker and C. R. JerniganVenezuela Caracas Mission

When I realized I was home for good, I was devastated. But I tried my best to maintain my faith and scripture study. My family handled it well, but the other people around me weren’t sure how to react to my situation. They kept asking me questions, and I barely kept it together. One man, however, called me unexpectedly and told me that his son had come home early from a mission a long time ago. He told me that this trial had the potential to destroy my faith and happiness and that it frequently did with many early-returned missionaries. “What you have to remember,” he said, “is that as long as you are trying as hard as you can to live your life righteously, it’s always a step forward no matter what happens outside of your control.”
That became my motto, and I relied on it heavily for the next year. For eight months I could barely walk, but people would still judge me when they found out that I had come home early. They said that there were people with worse medical conditions who had finished serving. They didn’t understand why I couldn’t have finished, even with medical difficulties. It was agonizing to hear this when I had loved my mission so much, but I had faith that Heavenly Father had a purpose for my trial and that it would be a step forward.

During the night a little bird had been blown from its nest by the high winds in the storm. Apparently hatched just a few days earlier, it had few feathers, but enough to be identified as just a common sparrow.
As it lay there awaiting whatever fate would come, a young woman walking to her car in the parking lot saw the little sparrow and picked it up. Feeling sympathy for the helpless little bird, she took it home to care for it. She prepared a nest in a basket with soft tissues, which were changed often to keep a clean and comfortable bed for the little bird.
She fed it often each day, watching it gain strength, and within a few days it opened its eyes and could see for the first time. It saw the girl who fed it and the family who lived in the home. It heard and became accustomed to the sounds around it, and it was not afraid.
As the days passed, it was able to hop about, and it was taken from the basket and put into a clean birdcage.
The sparrow trusted the girl and the family, and when it wanted food, it would chirp and flutter its growing wings rapidly, and when the cage door was opened it would hop out onto the girl’s hand and sit there patiently while she fed it.
It would sit on her hand as she walked through the house and even when she went outside. To help it become accustomed to the outside world where it soon would have to live, she would take it out on the lawn where she and her sister would sit under the tree and visit while the bird would look and observe all around it.
It came time for the girl and her sister to go to girls’ camp, so the bird went with them and spent the week on Cedar Mountain with the girls. It was there that it tried to fly for the first time, flying from the girl’s hand to the low branches in a nearby tree.
The bird was glad to come back to the familiar hand and security of the girl’s love, and although it was learning to fly, it did not leave. When the girls’ camp was over, the bird came home with the girls and continued its flying lessons.
The girl, realizing the bird must soon join its own kind, took it out on the front lawn and encouraged it to fly away. It flew across the lawn to a small pine tree, where it perched and looked around. The girl left it there, assuming it would now join the other birds, and she returned into the home.
It wasn’t long before a chirping could be heard outside in front of the home, and when the girl went out to see what the bird was chirping about, it flew out of the tree and landed back on her hand, and she fed it.
For the first few nights the bird would come back to the house and want to come in with the family for the night. Soon, however, it began to stay out with newly found friends, living in the trees close by the home. When the girl would go outside and whistle, it would respond and return and land on her hand, and my daughter, Trinilee, would feed it.

Finally, I will deal briefly with the conversion of a Protestant minister, who after much tribulation and persecution by ministers and friends when he decided to convert, gave the following testimony:
“I have written this in order to show that as in the Bible, when a man finds a ‘pearl of great price,’ he will sell all that he has if necessary in order to obtain it [see Matt. 13:46]. I have found that peace and truth within the Mormon church for which I had been seeking for over twelve years.
“I have not quite completed my first reading of the Book of Mormon, but already the riches of its truths as set down by the Prophet Joseph Smith have become a vital part of our family’s spiritual life. No man could have written this book except through the power of God. We accept the test of hatred through which we have passed as God’s test of our sincerity in our seeking.
“My prayer is that others will not continue to willfully blind their eyes, refusing even to read the Book of Mormon in order to learn. No man can read this book and not have his life changed. I have not overnight become an expert on the Mormon faith, but I am an eager student and am not afraid to learn what the Holy Spirit would teach through those to whom He has given the authority.
“My personal tragedy as a Protestant minister was that I wasted a good deal of valuable time trying to keep going an organization and institution which no longer, with any stretch of imagination, can be shown to be doing Christ’s work.”

The girls staying at one house had a three-day running water fight with the boys staying at a house a few blocks away. As they were packing to leave, the girls made a sign and presented it to the opposition. It said, “To be continued at next year’s youth conference.”
But more than a water fight would be continued. They had all learned about bridging gaps, and that knowledge helps in that carnival we call life.

An older couple retired from the world of work and also, in effect, from the Church. They purchased a pickup truck and camper and, separating themselves from all obligations, set out to see the world and simply enjoy what little they had accumulated the rest of their days. They had no time for the temple, were too busy for genealogical research and for missionary service. He lost contact with his high priests quorum and was not home enough to work on his personal history. Their experience and leadership were sorely needed in their branch, but, unable to “endure to the end,” they were not available.

When Rebecca B. was 15, she was happy for her sister Elizabeth, 19, who was leaving on a mission. But Rebecca was feeling pretty sorry for herself. The family had just dropped Elizabeth off at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, USA. Rebecca felt like she was losing not only her sister but also her best friend.
We’re talking about sisters so close that even though their parents’ home had a separate room for each of them, they still shared a room—because they preferred it that way. Rebecca and Elizabeth knew that by sticking together, they could weather the storms of life. Most of the time they were like flowers and sunshine, bright and happy. They were always talking, always together. And now Elizabeth would be far away.
Rebecca remembers thinking as the family drove away from the MTC, “Who will be my best friend now?”
“Not long after Elizabeth left,” Rebecca says, “we had a family home evening where Mom asked: ‘How can you create a relationship with your siblings that will last throughout eternity?’ That night, I decided that while Elizabeth was gone, Matthew [13 at the time] was going to be my new best friend.”
“She reached out to me,” Matthew recalls. “We just started doing more and more things together.”
“Part of it was just talking—on the way to school, during school, after school,” Rebecca says. “We talked about what kind of day we were having, about whatever was going on.”
They created what they call a safe relationship: “We’re not mean and we don’t hurt each other,” Matthew says.
“That means we can talk about the good, the bad, the pretty, and the ugly,” Rebecca adds. “We have the same kind of relationship with our parents—we talk to them about everything. We’re open and candid, and that builds trust.”
“I’ve grown up with two sisters who pretty much always got along, so it was easy for me to follow their example,” Matthew says. Their friendship continued into high school. They rode to school together, said hi in the hallways, went to each other’s activities, introduced each other to friends, and talked about little things that don’t matter much. But sometimes they talked long and deep about things that really do, like how to recognize answers to prayer.

I was born in 1964 near Paris to parents who helped me gain a basic understanding of Christianity. I remember one Sunday in particular when I was seven. On our way to church, my mother talked to me about Jesus Christ. As she described Him, I felt I had known Him for a long time. That was the beginning of my testimony—although it lay dormant for a time.

Raish smiled as she walked out of the chapel. She heard piano music coming from down the hall. It was time for Primary!
“Choose the right way and be happy,” Raish sang with the other children. “I must always choose the right.”
After singing time, Sister Aquino stood at the front of the room. “Does anyone still have their CTR ring?” she asked.
Raish raised her hand. “I do!” she said. “I keep mine in my drawer at home.”
“That’s great, Raish,” Sister Aquino said. “I remember when I was young, my mom always told me, ‘Remember who you are and what you stand for.’ I hope all of you will do your best to choose the right.”
When Raish got home from church, she ran to her drawer and pulled out her CTR ring. She wanted to wear it more often to remind her to choose the right.
The next day at school, Raish carried her lunch to the table where her friends always sat. She always loved talking with Julia and Bituin!
Raish and her friends were laughing about their favorite show when a new girl walked over. She sat down next to Julia. “Hi,” she said quietly. “I’m Imelda.”
“Um, excuse me!” Julia said. “This is our table.”
Imelda stood up. “Oh,” she said quickly. “Sorry.” She looked down at the ground and walked away.
Raish scrunched her forehead. “Why did you say that?” she asked Julia. “We should be nice to her. She’s new, and she probably needs friends.”
“But it’s our table,” Julia said.
“Yeah,” said Bituin.
Raish looked down at her food. She felt bad for Imelda. But she was afraid to say anything more. What if Julia and Bituin got mad at her?
That night, Raish kept thinking about Imelda. She decided to say a prayer. “Heavenly Father, please help me know what to do about my friends. Help me to choose the right.”
As the week went on, Raish looked for Imelda every day during lunch. And every day, she saw Imelda sitting alone. Raish felt sad for her. She wanted to invite Imelda to sit at their table, but could she stand up to Julia and Bituin? Raish just didn’t know what to do.
One day Raish saw Imelda walk by their table. “Look at the new girl,” Julia said loudly. “Her lunch is wrapped in a banana leaf. Gross!”
Bituin laughed. “Her family doesn’t even have money to buy a lunchbox.”
Imelda bit her lip. She started walking faster.
Raish looked at the CTR ring on her finger. She did want to choose the right. Then something else popped into her mind. It was what Sister Aquino had said in Primary. Remember who you are and what you stand for. She wanted to always be kind and stand for the right.
Raish turned to her friends. “Please stop,” she said. “Imelda’s not doing anything to you. Just leave her alone.”
Julia gave Raish a mean look.
Raish stood up. “I’m going to sit with Imelda,” she said. She carried her food to the empty table where Imelda sat. Imelda looked surprised.
“Hi,” Raish said. “I’m sorry we haven’t been very nice to you. I want to be your friend.”
Imelda smiled. “Thanks,” she said softly.
Raish smiled back. She was glad she could be Imelda’s friend. And she was glad that she chose the right.

Louisa never married, but when her younger sister May died, she raised May’s baby, who had been named Louisa after her. Lulu, as the child was called, brightened Louisa’s life and became like a daughter to her.

Jihea Hong, 18, a native of Seoul, South Korea, has been playing the piano since she was four years old. And while she’s excited to continue her education at Juilliard School in New York, a short distance from her adopted home of Clifton, New Jersey, Jihea looks back fondly on her teenage years in the Church.
“I am so grateful for the opportunity I had to be in Young Women,” she says. “It helped me to know who I am. I know I am a daughter of Heavenly Father and he loves me.
“So many musicians’ identities are based on their music,” she adds. “I want to be known as a daughter of Heavenly Father. That means more to me than being a pianist.”

Northern Pakistan and India experienced the strongest earthquake in the region in a hundred years, with thousands of lives lost and many left without homes. Because of the extreme winters in the area, concern was extended not only for the injured but also for those left without shelter.
Four days after the earthquake, the Islamic Relief Agency provided a Boeing 747 cargo plane, which was quickly filled to capacity with blankets, tents, hygiene kits, medical supplies, sleeping bags, coats, and tarps from the bishops’ storehouse. Large containers with more supplies and winter tents for over 75,000 people were shipped by air, land, and sea.

A powerful 6.8-magnitude earthquake rattled Guatemala and El Salvador, swaying buildings for 30 seconds but causing no deaths, on June 13, 2007.
The quake struck in the Pacific Ocean, 70 miles (112 km) from Guatemala City at a depth of about 40 miles (64 km). There was no threat of a tsunami.
Despite the magnitude of the earthquake, the countries escaped virtually unscathed—unlike when two earthquakes struck El Salvador in 2001 and killed more than 1,150 people, most of them in mudslides near San Salvador, the capital.
Reports from the Central America Area Office indicated there were no deaths or injuries to members or missionaries as a result of this quake. Local priesthood leaders helped assess potential needs.

A mother in West Africa shared her testimony about tithing. She was a trader in a marketplace. Every day she would come home, count out her tithing, and put it in a special place. Then on Sunday she would faithfully take it to her bishop. She shared with us how her business had grown and how her family had been blessed with health and strength and enough food to eat. Then with tears in her eyes she said, “But the greatest blessings of all are that my children love the Lord and we are a forever family.”

In talking one day with her young daughter Elaine, Jean Shaw shared a personal insight. Jean told Elaine that she would not discover that “your faith is your own” until her parents died. Years later, when her mother passed away, Elaine recalled those words. Even in her grief, she realized she did indeed have her own faith in the Lord. Through believing the truth as it was taught her, receiving the ordinances of the gospel, and striving to keep her covenants, she had nourished her faith in the Savior. Her faith had grown gradually until now it could guide, comfort, and sustain her in the absence of her parents.

The LeGault family makes it a practice to try to live close to the Spirit. Brother LeGault helps set the pace. Shortly after he prayed for help in finding someone to share the gospel with, he was prompted to turn off the main highway to stop at a gas station, even though he didn’t need gas. A young man riding a motorcycle had stopped there because he was tired of traveling, and Brother LeGault offered to put the motorcycle in his van and give the young man a lift to Montreal.

The young man was impressed by the kindness he received and wanted to know more about the LeGault family and what made them so loving. He took the missionary lessons. The LeGault family prayed that the young man would gain a testimony. A few weeks later, he was baptized into the Church.

“When something like that happens, we make it a family activity,” says Chantal. “We all prayed for the young man to listen to the truth. We work together to share the gospel.”

“We try to say to our Heavenly Father, ‘I’ll do what you want. Make me what you want,’” says Nathalie. “When we let him do that, he does wonderful things.”

Born in 2007, Ishamel was healthy growing up until age nine. One day he returned home from school and reported to his mother that his eyes were itching. The next morning his eyes were swollen, and he was taken to the hospital, where he went through surgery but never regained his sight.
Ishmael had to leave his primary school and got enrolled at a school for the blind in Sierra Leone. It was a difficult time for him and his family because he had to leave his parents to stay at the school’s boarding home. He eventually adjusted to his new environment and began learning how to use braille. Despite his visual impairment, Ishmael has a deep passion for education and a strong desire to always be learning something new.
He accepted an invitation extended to him by Sister Ramatu Kanneh, the bishop’s wife, to attend seminary and Succeed in School (SIS) classes in September 2024. The first day he came, he was met with a warm, welcoming reception from the teacher and the other students. In no time he became close friends with Alfred Kargbeni, who walks him to and from class every day.
To ensure he could fully participate and retain the information covered, he uses an audio recorder to capture the lessons, which he then listens to intently once back home. There, he would carefully transcribe the recorded content using a braille writing instrument. Regrettably, Brother Ishmael’s recorder eventually malfunctioned, leaving him without a means to document the lessons. Nevertheless, he remained dedicated, finding solace in the caring interactions with his fellow classmates.
After one seminary class Ishmael said, “I have made up my mind that this is really the Church of Jesus Christ”. He was then introduced to the missionaries by Alfred, and after obtaining permission from his parents, he was baptized on January 4, 2025. As he continued attending SIS and seminary classes, he developed the desire to read the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon, so he started inquiring about the possibility of getting a braille copy.
We (the Seminaries and Institutes employees) told his story in one of our SIS meetings, and our colleagues in Utah got him a copy of the Book of Mormon in braille. We were all surprised at the huge size of the book when it arrived. In the suitcase was also a brand-new recorder. You can imagine Ishmael’s joy when we handed him the braille Book of Mormon and the recorder.
Brother Ishmael expressed his gratitude and love for the things he is learning. “SIS has helped me deepen my love for reading and solving math problems,” he says. “I am now more confident in managing my schoolwork. I am also growing spiritually through the things I am learning in seminary.”
Ishmael’s parents are currently taking the missionary lessons as he has been using every opportunity to share with them the things he is learning.

The summer I turned 12 our Scout troop undertook a 50-mile backpacking trip in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. For years I had heard about the exploits of my older brothers and their friends on previous outings, so I was excited to experience this great adventure for myself. And now I was finally old enough to go.
To my dismay, my father decided he hadn’t been spending enough time with his middle child (me), so he announced he would join us on this trip. I had been looking forward to a sense of independence by being out in the wilderness without the usual parental oversight. These plans were now ruined, but I didn’t let my dad know I was disappointed he was coming.
My dad insisted on hiking with me and giving me pointers and advice along the way. We shared a tent together, and he taught me the proper way to set up a campsite. While the other boys were off enjoying themselves by throwing rocks in the creek or poking sticks in the fire, my dad was showing me how to clear an area of rocks and debris and how to level the ground. He showed me how to lay a tent out and stake it in place, how to tie a taut line so we could properly put up a secure rain fly. And then, just when I was about to burst from the boredom of learning all these details, we had to dig a trench around the tent so if it rained, the water would flow away from the tent and not under it.
When it was my turn to cook the dinner, I was again paired with my dad. We, of course, had to make sure the camp stoves were working properly and were cleaned and serviced. We had to make sure to read, understand, and closely follow all the directions on the freeze-dried dinner packages. Again I watched my friends running out into the woods to play. However, this was the first meal I had on that trip that was properly mixed, prepared, and sufficiently cooked.
After a few days we arrived at Hamilton Lake, where we would spend an extra day to rest. I talked with my dad about how I wanted to try camping on my own at this campsite, and he agreed. I was very excited to finally do things my own way. Upon arriving at the campsite, each Scout quickly scrambled to find a prime location for his tent. I found a place with soft dirt among a few trees to set up my tube tent—a sheet of plastic made into a tube, requiring only that I put a rope through it and tie the rope to two trees. No stakes, no rain fly, no trench, no sweat. I threw my sleeping bag and backpack into the tent and in no time was off throwing rocks into the lake with my friends.
Later I stopped by my father’s tent. He had set up his tent on the smooth and slightly rounded top of a very large boulder bordering the lake. His tent stakes had been hammered into crevices in the rock. Even the rain fly was staked and very taut. I felt a little sorry for him having to sleep on a rock, except that it was his own fault. While everybody else was dashing about claiming all the choice spots, he just stood there and waited until all the good ones were taken.
That night, as I excitedly lay for the first time in my very own tent, it began to rain. At first my tube tent kept me dry, but after a while the rainwater began to build up. I learned that my campsite was so soft and cozy because the rain would regularly wash all the silt, dirt, and sand from the area down into the little gully where I was trying to sleep. Soon there was a small river flowing through my tent. I looked up at the top of the boulder where my dad’s tent stood. The taut rain fly was repelling the rain off the tent. All the water was draining away from the tent and down the sides of the boulder.
After trying to endure awhile longer, I called to my dad, and he invited me to come up and stay in his tent. I grabbed my sleeping bag and foam pad and tried to keep them dry under my jacket as I ran up to the tent. My dad lay inside dry and warm. I tried valiantly to get into the tent without getting anything wet. My dad scooted his sleeping bag over and held my sleeping bag while I got in. He seemed genuinely pleased to have me join him. There were no comments or lectures about my poor campsite decision or lack of preparation. We just talked, and I listened to another of his famous “shaggy dog” stories before falling asleep (a very long story with a very corny punch line). I happily camped and hiked with my dad the rest of that trip and still had plenty of time for fun with my friends.
When I think back on my growing-up years, I can no longer recall many of the things my parents specifically said to me. But when I sometimes feel far away from my Heavenly Father, when I wonder if He is still listening, if He is still there, and if He will accept me back, I remember the tent built upon a rock, prevailing against the rains and the floods and the wind (see Matthew 7:25). I remember the warmth and comfort I felt inside. I remember the love and acceptance I felt then from a kind and forgiving father. And I know my kind and forgiving Heavenly Father loves me too.

When I was rushed to the emergency room with both of my lungs collapsed, I thought I was at the end of my life. I was not yet ready emotionally or spiritually for the end, but my body was giving up on me. It was hard for my family to see me in that condition, but they remained strong, and I was blessed to have survived.
My struggles did not end there. Since then, I’ve had to live my life with only one functioning lung and a curved spine. Every day is painful and difficult. I once thought that I would be better off dead rather than to continue suffering. I felt weak, not just physically, but mentally and spiritually as well. I lost hope and confidence. I began to push away the people in my life who encouraged me. But my family never gave up on me. They loved and cared for me, and my friends continued to support me. Even so, I still felt that my future was not going to be as bright as I had imagined.
One night I found myself feeling so down. I decided I needed to read my patriarchal blessing. Tears came to my eyes the moment I read the first few lines, “Our Father in Heaven cares for you and loves you. He wants you to be happy in this life.”
In that moment, I realized that Heavenly Father really has a very bright future in store for me and wonderful blessings for me to anticipate as long as I follow the path He wants me to take.
Our Father in Heaven knew that we would all struggle, so He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to suffer for us and to comfort us. That’s how vast Their love for us is. I may still struggle every day of my life here on earth, but I know that Their love will always be there for me and Their promises will be all fulfilled if I hold on and follow Them.