Gospel Story Finder

For a first profile, I mention Jose Garcia from Old Mexico. Born in poverty but nurtured in faith, Jose prepared for a mission call. I was present the day his recommendation was received. There appeared the statement: “Brother Garcia will serve at great sacrifice to his family, for he is the means of much of the family support. He has but one possession—a treasured stamp collection—which he is willing to sell, if necessary, to help finance his mission.”
President Kimball listened attentively as this statement was read to him, and then he responded: “Have him sell his stamp collection. Such sacrifice will be to him a blessing.” Then, with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face, this loving prophet said, “Each month at Church headquarters we receive thousands of letters from all parts of the world. See that we save these stamps and provide them to Jose at the conclusion of his mission. He will have, without cost, the finest stamp collection of any young man in Mexico.”

I had a difficult time being a single mother in the Church, but I believe God blessed me with the gift of testimony, so I remained active.
Nevertheless, I struggled to break the unhealthy patterns in my relationship with my ex-husband. He would just drop by my home unannounced and expect to spend time with our son, and I allowed him to do it. I knew logically that I needed to set firmer boundaries, but it was so hard.
I talked to my bishop about my situation. When he asked me, “Are you reading the Book of Mormon regularly?” I admitted I was not. He invited me to start reading it.
I believed that by following my bishop’s counsel to read the Book of Mormon, I could find answers to my questions and strength to overcome my challenges. I began studying the Book of Mormon with the prayerful purpose of finding God’s strength to help me. I journaled my thoughts and the things I learned as I read. It was a way for me to recognize and remember the things the Spirit was teaching me.
As I studied the Book of Mormon and became closer to the Lord through prayer, I felt stronger than I had ever felt. I experienced increased hope and strength every day. I received power to set firmer boundaries with my ex-husband and others.

I moved away from home and went to college when I was 18 years old. I was not raised in the church. I felt like a stranger in the world. I felt the world was cruel and growing evermore increasingly wicked. I became anti-social and felt I could not trust anyone. I felt alone. I began to study4 at the university. It was there that I began to search5 diligently6 for answers about life: Where did we come from? Where are we going? Why are we here? I took classes in psychology, philosophy, science, and religion, looking for answers. I asked everyone I knew to explain the meaning of life. Some people would entertain my questions while others thought that I was strange for wanting to know, saying, "You think too much!"7

I was not satisfied with the answers I encountered among the philosophies of men.8 I wanted to know the truth9, and I began to look inside10 myself to find the answers. I began to trust the whisperings of my own conscience11even though it contradicted what the world12 had taught me. My father had taught me to trust my intuition and to listen inside13, that it would always guide me to truth. My father told me, as good fathers do, that I was unusual14, and that I was gifted15. My father told me that many people do not seek to know16 the meaning or the mysteries of life.

But, I also quickly became tempted by the adversary hearing him say things like "Surely there is no God17; that doesn't make any sense18; those are the things of a child19. You are not a child; you are a man20; men prosper by their own strength21, and when they die that is the end thereof22." And being deceived23, I decided not to believe in God24. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life25began to seduce me; and I was ignorant in unbelief26. Wherefore men are free to choose liberty and eternal life, or to choose captivity and death, according to the power and captivity of the devil27.

And I chose sin. And the wages of sin is death28. The great dark abyss29 of the adversary had blinded my mind30.

Thus we see how subtly31 and carefully32 the devil does lead away the hearts of the children of men. For behold, he shall rage in the hearts of the children of men, and stir them up to anger against that which is good. And others will he pacify, and lull them away into carnal security—and thus he cheats their souls, and leads them away carefully down to hell. And behold, others he flatters away, and tells them there is no hell; and he says unto them: I am no devil, for there is none—and thus he whispers in their ears, until he grasps them with his awful chains, from whence there is no deliverance.33

During that depressing period of my life I truly mourned34. My sorrow had made me meek35, humble, and teachable. As a result, I diligently hungered and thirsted after righteousness36. If I had never suffered, I would never have had the desire to find a better way. My trials prepared me to look for God. So, as it happened one day, as on many other occasions, I lay flat on my back and stared at the ceiling while considering my miserable state37. For so long, I had been buried under the oppressive weight of a guilty conscience. With no one to turn to, I poured out my whole soul to God38. I wept, and being in an agony, I prayed more earnestly. I begged God for forgiveness and pleaded with him over and over again to save my soul from hell40, saying, “God, save me¬—please God, save me.”

For a man sometimes, if he is compelled to be humble, seeks repentance. And whosoever repents shall find mercy; and he that finds mercy and endures to the end the same shall be saved.41

I was proselyted by many faiths. I briefly attended a number of different churches. I remember the pastor in a certain church was friendly and gave me a Bible. He outlined the passages of scripture that I should read to begin to establish a relationship with the Lord. The pastor invited me to read and pray on my own, privately, to know whether or not the things of the gospel were true42. The pastor explained the function of the Holy Spirit43, that it is a witness for the truth. He explained, "The Holy Spirit is like a light44 that is born at the very center of your heart45 ." I began to feel the burning sensations in my heart46 when we would discuss the gospel of Jesus Christ. I felt overwhelmed and inspired by the Holy Spirit47 as I read the scriptures. I prayed sincerely48 to ask God about Jesus Christ49. Is Jesus Christ the Savior of the world? “Never man spake like this man.”50 As I humbled myself to pray, I felt like a little child51 who was asking his father about the world for the first time. To whom shall we go?52 And Father in Heaven53 revealed54 the truth to me55. “Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leads unto life, and few there be that find it.”56

During that period while I was struggling to find my way in life, my father told me that the way he overcame his difficult times was through practicing the teachings of certain self-help books. My father had given me many of the same books to read in an attempt to help and inspire me. Out of all the books that my father had given me to read regarding self-help and success, one stood out above the rest: you guessed it,
"The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People." I read the book several times and also listened to it on tape and compact disc. The first time I read the book and finished it, something touched my heart.57 I knew it was true. There was something different about the book. It gave me hope that there were upright and honest people in the world who wanted good for others and lived by principles. I wanted to know more about Stephen Covey, who he was and where he got his information for his book. I would go to the Franklin Covey store to buy new books. While there, I inquired of the employees and manager about who Stephen Covey was, where he was from, and what he was like. I wanted to find the source58 of the information.

I discovered that Stephen Covey was from Utah and that he was an active member of the Mormon Church. I knew nothing about the Mormons. I had heard the word Mormon59 but didn't know what it meant. I figured that Stephen Covey must have gathered a lot of the information from his religion to write the book, even though the author makes no direct reference to the Church. Consequently, I thought that if Stephen Covey was any good representation of who a Mormon is, then I wanted to know more about the Mormon religion, deducing that it must teach similar values. Wherefore, by their fruits ye shall know them.60 All of the employees that worked in the Franklin Covey store were members of the Church, and I became friends with them. One day during a religious discussion in the Franklin Covey store, my new friends invited me to attend church. I said that I would consider it. After an hour of contemplation, I returned to accept the invitation to attend the Mormon church for the first time the coming Sunday. “Thus we see that by small and simple means great things are brought to pass.”61

On March 7, 1999, I attended the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for the first time. One month later on April 4, I was baptized. I received the gift of the Holy Ghost and was confirmed a member of the Church. On May 8, 1999, I was ordained to the office of priest in the Aaronic Priesthood. On March 5, 2000, I was ordained to the office of elder in the Melchizedek Priesthood. One month later, I received my patriarchal blessing. I completed the yearlong membership requirement and submitted my mission papers. Three weeks later, I received my own temple endowments. And a week after that, I received my mission call to serve in the Panama City, Panama – Spanish-speaking Mission. On July 5, 2000, after one year and three months of membership in the church, I entered the MTC in Provo. In 2002, I returned home honorably from my mission. In 2005, I was sealed to my wife for time and all eternity in the San Diego Temple. On September 2, 2009, I became a father to my son Wyatt. On August 28, 2011, my wife gave birth to our daughter Saatchi, and we are expecting our third child in January. There is no greater joy in life than having your own children.

If Heavenly Father through his infinite mercy was willing to make something out of my life, he will certainly make something out of you. You are so much further ahead than I was at your age. “It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”

In the Personal Progress book, one of the requirements is to get closer to a family member and write kind letters to them for two weeks. I was having a hard time getting along with my brother, so I decided to give it a try. In the first note that I sent, I explained to him that I didn’t like the way we were treating each other and that I would like to work harder on trying to be nicer to one another. Right after the first note I sent, I found a note from my brother explaining that he felt like that too. After that our friendship got a whole lot better, just from a simple loving note.
M’Lynn Y., 13, Idaho

Raúl and his family live in the small Paraguayan town of Piquete Cué. In the nearby town of Limpie, there is a beautiful LDS meetinghouse where a ward meets. But each Sunday, Raúl and his family pass the Limpie Ward’s meetinghouse on their two-hour bus ride to the town of Villa Hayes. There they attend a tiny branch that meets in a small rented house. Why don’t they go to the ward that is so much closer to their home?
“Because the branch in Villa Hayes needs us,” says Raúl’s father, Luciano, who works as an industrial engineer. “There are so few members in the branch that they really need us there.” Brother Aquino is first counselor in the branch presidency. Sister Aquino has been Relief Society president and now teaches a Primary class.
Raúl attends Primary and loves to learn more about the Book of Mormon. “I don’t know how to read it yet,” he says. “But my mamá and papá read it to me.”
Raúl often bears his testimony in sacrament meeting. He told the branch members recently that he’d had a headache—but when he prayed, it went away.
He also remembers the time his dad was seriously sick. Raúl’s mother thought he was going to die. She rode a bus to the missionaries’ house to ask them to give him a blessing. They weren’t home, so she left them a message. When they arrived several hours later, Raúl’s father was so sick he could hardly talk. The missionaries gave him a blessing—and within half an hour, he was up and feeling much better.
“I really want my eight birthday to come so I can be baptized,” Raúl says. “And I want to be a missionary.”
Raúl already is a missionary. “I know that the Book of Mormon and the Church of Jesus Christ are true,” he says. “I would tell children all over the world to try to love everyone—especially the children that I see in the streets who don’t have a home. They make me cry a lot. Be thankful to Heavenly Father and also to our parents. Love the Church of Jesus Christ, take the sacrament, and always pray.”
Then Raúl climbs up his favorite tree. From his leafy perch, he waves good-bye.

Our plane landed and the young mother was off, carry-on bag in one arm, little boy in the other. It turned out she had another flight ahead of her and was about to miss it. I watched her panic on the tarmac as her luggage came out. I took stock of her belongings: stroller, car seat, suitcase, carry-on, diaper bag. She needed help. My empathy needed to mature into compassion.
Without stopping to introduce myself, I reached for her many belongings and said, “I’ll take these. You take him. Run to your gate. I’ll follow you.” She accepted gratefully, and we sprinted through the airport. As we approached the gate, I saw another woman pleading with the airline attendant to keep the plane on the ground for just a few more minutes. We approached breathless but triumphant. The young mother and this woman embraced with tears of joy and relief before boarding.
This small act of service didn’t change the world, but it did meaningfully bless the life of a child of God in need. Just as it helped my new friend progress toward her physical destination, it helped me progress toward my spiritual destination. Choosing empathy and compassion helped me become a bit more like Jesus Christ. And this made me happy.

John Taylor’s youth had prepared him well for a lifetime of dedicated service to the Lord. He sensed even when he was young that a guiding hand was over him, watching and protecting him until he was ready to fulfill his foreordained mission in life. As he left Liverpool in 1832 to join his family and eventually his life’s work in the kingdom, he experienced a severe storm soon after the ship was out to sea. Undaunted, he recalled, “So confident was I of my destiny that I went on deck at midnight, and amidst the raging elements felt as calm as though I was sitting in a parlor at home. I believed I should reach America and perform my work.” (Life of John Taylor, p. 29.) That work and the formative influences of his youth in accomplishing it stand as a remarkable example for us to the present day.

Some years ago, one of our sons asked me why it wasn’t a good idea to try alcohol or tobacco to see what they were like. He knew about the Word of Wisdom, and he also knew the health effects of these substances, but he was questioning why he shouldn’t just try them out for himself. I replied that if he wanted to try something out, he ought to go to a barnyard and eat a little manure. He recoiled in horror. “Ooh, that’s sickening,” he reacted.
“I’m glad you think so,” I said, “but why don’t you just try it out so you will know for yourself? While you’re proposing to try one thing that you know is not good for you, why don’t you apply that principle to some others?” That illustration of the silliness of “trying it out for yourself” proved persuasive for one sixteen-year-old.

The Saints were in serious trouble in Far West, Missouri in 1838. The mob violence, instigated in part by the state government, had reached a fever pitch. The first of November found the Prophet Joseph, his brother, Hyrum, and others under arrest and sentenced to be executed. Brigadier General Alexander W. Doniphan had been ordered by his superior officer, Major General Samuel D. Lucas to execute the prisoners the following morning in the town square. General Doniphan responded:

"It is cold-blooded murder. I will not obey your order. My brigade shall march for Liberty tomorrow morning, at 8 o'clock; and if you execute these men, I will hold you responsible before an earthly tribunal, so help me God."[1]

After reading the response of General Doniphan, General Lucas thought better of his order and took the prisoners to Richmond, Missouri and later to the infamous Liberty Jail where they were confined.

As I was nearing the end of my master’s program I had the opportunity to attend an international professional meeting in Adelaide, Australia. A post-conference tour took us on a ten-day adventure from Adelaide on the south coast across the outback to Darwin on the north coast. Out in the middle we stopped near Alice Springs at a place called Ayers Rock. This is a large sandstone dome that seemingly rises up with nearly vertical walls over 1,100 feet out of an otherwise flat mulga desert. A tourist route that goes up the gentlest slope has metal posts cemented into the stone and connected to each other with chains. Even with this assistance, ascending the rock is only a feat for the fit and adventurous.

The night before our chance to assail the rock, a South African adventurer, a park ranger, and my roommate decided to do a free climb on the backside of Ayers Rock. This plan, hatched out over a few too many at the local bar, was shared with me upon my roommate’s return to our room. I’m still not sure how, but early the next morning I found myself following these characters in the ascent. The first 500 feet weren’t so bad, but, as I was the only climbing novice in the group, I was lagging behind, getting tired and a little nervous. It was apparent that we had passed the point of no return, as I found going up steep sandstone was much easier than going down. Three-quarters of the way up I found a little depression in the windswept stone to rest in, and I knew I was in trouble. My legs had turned to jelly and quivered uncontrollably. I was scared nearly to the point of panic. My companions, all experienced climbers, were struggling to find solid grips, as the sandstone composition was flaky near the top. Seemingly strong grips would peel off when exposed to weight.

As I sat there on my perch and looked out over the vast, beautiful desert, I thought my family might want to know what I saw in my last moments on earth. I pulled out my camera, slipped off the case, snapped a couple of photos, and was brought back to reality as my camera case tumbled down the slope, previewing my unseemly path to the bottom. Paralyzed with fear, realizing one slip would have me ending with a splat, I wished we had told someone where we had gone—but no one knew. I’m not even sure that what we were doing was legal, and my hungover companions were not bolstering any confidence.

I felt all alone, overwhelmed by despair. And then a thought flickered in my mind, and I instantly remembered that somebody knew where I was: God knew! In an awkward beginning, realizing He knew how I had ended up in this predicament and also knowing I had probably not listened to His still-voiced counsel, I began to plead with the Lord. In an effort to show my sincerity, I entered into one of those deal-making kind of prayers: “Lord, I’ll give up this and this and I’ll do that and that if you will only get me out of this mess!” It was then that I realized my legs had stopped trembling, my breathing had slowed, and a peace had replaced the panic. My group had found a way up the slope, and though it was the most treacherous and steepest part and required greater strength and effort, I was able to scramble up to the top with renewed confidence.

That was one of those moments in my life in which I received an infusion of spiritual reality and gained a sense of who I could really trust in every place and in every circumstance.

Thirteen-year-old Vetaley Kurnosov lives in a fairly isolated place. His home is in Chernigov, a little more than 100 miles north of Kiev, and about 75 miles east of the nuclear disaster site at Chernobyl. Because the roads are rough, Chernigov is about three and a half hours by bus from Kiev. The trip takes even longer by train.

Though Chernigov is a fair-sized town, many of the streets are unpaved. Houses are built of cinder block, capped with tin roofs. The blocks are left without stucco. A rural atmosphere prevails. Most people have some land and grow some crops. Ducks and other animals wander down the lanes.

There is a branch of the Church in Chernigov, and full-time missionaries are just beginning work in the area. For now the members meet in a family’s home. Besides that family, Vetaley, his mother, and his grandmother attend Sunday services with elders, investigators, and visitors, including a missionary couple that travels up every other week from Kiev.

“I’m the only deacon,” Vetaley explains. “My main duty is to pass the sacrament.”

But if he could, he’d preach the gospel to the whole world. “I’d tell them that this Church is true. I believe in it 100 percent and even more. I’d tell them how it felt so right when I was baptized and how everything in my life seems better because of the Church. I’d tell them how prayer has helped me to change my study habits and do better in school. I’d say that I feel perfected by reading the scriptures. I would invite them to join the Church, because we have to have faith in somebody, and Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are the ones to rely on. We can trust in Them completely, and They will give us more than we ever need.”

Unfortunately, such an “O-that-I-were-an-angel” attitude (see Alma 29:1) has not yet convinced his non-LDS friends. “They just don’t pay much attention,” Vetaley says. Perhaps that will change, particularly as they watch his example. “That’s the best hope,” he says. “One day the Church will be well established here, and when it is it will be because of us. We are laying the foundation.”

In an early story from Harper’s Weekly (1855) called “My Wife’s Tempter,” a suspicious husband overhears his wife talking to a mysterious visitor. The husband eavesdrops enough to learn that the visitor is trying to persuade his wife to leave her husband and family and to go with him to his “chief.” “You have no husband, woman,” the man argues. “The vow was annulled before it was made. Your husband in God yet awaits you. You will yet be blessed with the true spouse.” The wife finally agrees, and then leaves, sobbing. This allows the angry husband to approach the unsuspecting seducer:
“I rose and stepped silently into the open space in which he stood. His back was toward me. His arms were lifted high over his head with an exultant gesture, and I could see his profile as it slightly turned toward me, illuminated with a smile of scornful triumph.”
The poor husband throws himself at the intruder. They wrestle, and the husband finally gets the upper hand when the villain slips over a precipice and dangles there, his life depending on his grip on a slim root that the husband immediately begins to saw at with his pocketknife. To save his life, the villain promises to confess; he is pulled up to safety where, with bowed head, he finally admits, “I am a Mormon.” The husband is shocked by the revelation that the man who has ruined his home is actually a Latter-day Saint missionary, and the story concludes on a tearful note with the husband putting his wife out of the house: “This is no longer your home. You have deceived me. You are a Mormon. I know all.” And with that the husband sends his wife off to live with her father. He ends his narrative,
“I live in the same village with my wife, and yet am a widower. She is very penitent, they say; yet I cannot bring myself to believe that anyone who has allowed the Mormon poison to enter his veins can ever be cured. People say that we will come together again, but I know better.”

The family home evening wheels are just one of several service projects these young women have completed. In an effort to help a widow from the branch feel a little less lonely, the young women decorated a basket and filled it with lots of short, happy handwritten notes. “No one is there to take care of her,” Daisy says. “So we wanted to remind her that members of the branch are thinking about her.” The young women delivered the basket in person and explained that she could read a note each day to bring a smile to her face.

Jackie Biggs, 17, from the Syracuse First Ward, said the discussions at the conference had helped her understand ways in which she could improve her relationship with her parents. “Sometimes it seems like lessons don’t apply, but this one did. Sometimes I forget my parents are human, too.”

Jackie’s sentiments reflected feelings a lot of others shared, both during a testimony meeting and during an early morning seminary session.

“After the seminary lesson on parent-child relationships, my mother (who, as stake Young Women president, was at the conference) told me that she loved me,” Sherry said. “My back was to her and I didn’t hear her for sure. I thought maybe I was just wishing. Then turned around and saw her.”

I used to wear my headphones throughout the day, listening to music or YouTube. I wore them while eating dinner sometimes, insisting to my parents that I could still hear them. I noticed people wearing them during youth activities and thought maybe I should too. But I soon noticed that I was spending way too much time on my headphones and phone and not enough time on important things.
I didn’t want to put my headphones before Jesus Christ. I knew I needed to make a change. Instead of listening to random music in the morning, I listened to the youth song “I Am a Disciple of Christ” while reading my scriptures. As the singer bore testimony about Christ, I felt my testimony grow. I noticed I felt happier, and my relationship with Christ grew stronger. The lyrics often stayed with me throughout the day, reminding me to act and be a disciple of Christ.
While I didn’t fully take my headphones out of my day, I started wearing them less. By changing my unhealthy habit, I was able to put Jesus Christ first.
I know that even changing something as small as an unhealthy headphone habit can draw you closer to Christ.

Do you ever have those Sundays where you just don’t feel like going to church? Well I have, especially recently. I’ve just moved into a new ward in Cape Town, South Africa. It’s not that the people in the ward aren’t nice or friendly. They just aren’t my friends from home.
After my first week in the ward I had made up my mind—from now on I was only going to sacrament meeting. The following week I went late. As I walked through the chapel doors, I was greeted by few people and took my seat. As I sat there, I felt so homesick. All I wanted was my old ward, the friendly faces that knew me.
Then the first speaker got up and began her talk. It was like she was speaking to me. She spoke of feeling alone in a new city, and I realized I was not the only one. Then the second speaker shared another message which held personal significance to me. Just before the meeting ended, the bishop stood up and told us how much he loved each one of us. He said he knew that there were people who were relying on him to look after and care for them.
As I sang the closing hymn, I knew this was where I should be. I hadn’t felt such peace in a long time, and I knew it came from Heavenly Father. He knows each of us and our needs. He gave me what I needed that day, and I know that if I continue to live His commandments, He will always do so.

My grandparents didn’t have a lot of money. Grandpa and Grandma ate what they raised on their farm and worked hard to make ends meet. Grandma sewed temple burial clothes, and Grandpa sold subscriptions to a national magazine. Sometimes I went with Grandpa on his magazine-subscription visits.
Watching my grandparents and my mother, I learned to work very hard. From their example, I also learned the importance of paying tithing. Even though Grandpa and Grandma were very poor, they always paid a faithful ten percent tithing on everything they earned. During very difficult financial times, many neighbors lost their farms. Grandpa often said that he kept the farm because the Lord blessed him for being obedient and paying tithing.

8. Keep your car locked when not in use. Not only does this discourage theft, but it can also prevent freak accidents. Recently two missionaries were in a home presenting a discussion when they noticed through the front window of the house that their car was rolling down the driveway into the street. A young boy of the household, attempting to play a trick on the elders, had backed the car out into heavy traffic. It was demolished and the boy ended up in the hospital. Whose fault? The missionaries’—for leaving the car unlocked and the keys in the ignition.

Randy McGee has imagination. He’s unintimidated as well. He’s also the cheerleader at Thomas Jefferson High School in Washington who had “lost so many school elections” he decided to run for an office he could win! He invented the office of Archduke, and his campaign included the wearing of a red cap and the handing out of a job description with his picture to student voters. The student council admitted that his speech got the most raves at the election assembly, and Mormons in the area appreciated the good publicity in the local papers. As Archduke, Randy spreads good cheer, stirs up goodwill efforts between schools, and acts as chief pepper-upper at games. “As far as I know,” comments Randy laughingly, “I’m the only Archduke in the USA”.

I remember one day I took some of those little round paper circles that form when you punch holes in paper, and I wrote on them the numbers 1 to 100. I turned each over and wrote her a message, one word on each circle. Then I scooped them up and put them in an envelope. I thought she would get a good laugh.
When she passed away, I found in her private things how much she appreciated the simple messages that we shared with each other. I noted that she had carefully pasted every one of those circles on a piece of paper. She not only kept my notes to her, but she protected them with plastic coverings as if they were a valuable treasure. There is only one that she didn’t put with the others. It is still behind the glass in our kitchen clock. It reads, “Jeanene, it is time to tell you I love you.” It remains there and reminds me of that exceptional daughter of Father in Heaven.