Gospel Story Finder

In his first general conference talk, he revealed a charming self-deprecation that won friends immediately: “I am reminded of a statement made by my first missionary companion when I received a letter of transfer to the European Mission office. After I had read it, I turned it over to him. He read it, and then said: ‘Well, you must have helped an old lady across the street in the pre-existence. This has not come because of anything you’ve done here.’” Despite his high profile as a Church leader for nearly four decades, President Hinckley thinks of himself as an ordinary man who has been given extraordinary opportunities. After 13 years in the First Presidency, he still refers to himself as “Brother Hinckley.”

Ironically, one of the most painful arguments James and I ever had occurred during companionship council. The conflict quickly and unexpectedly escalated past the point of rational conversation, and we were both hurt in the process. But that heartbreaking conflict that began in companionship council was also resolved in companionship council. We knew we would have another chance the next week and the next.
So after a week of pondering and cooling off, we tried again, and we eventually worked through our differences. I felt keenly the “personal peace and a burst of spiritual momentum” promised to us when we resolve conflicts in the Savior’s way. Every conflict we resolve with creativity and love will propel us forward and invite further influence from the Holy Ghost in our relationships.

These intrepid pioneers were waiting for apostolic direction on how and when they would be heading further west. Everyone’s plans were altered when Brigham Young, the President of the Quorum of the Twelve, issued a call for men to volunteer to serve in the United States Army in what came to be known as the Mormon Battalion.

Robert Harris Jr. was one of over 500 Mormon pioneer men who responded to that call from Brigham Young. He enlisted, even though it meant he would leave behind his pregnant wife and six little children.

Why would he and the other men do such a thing?

The answer can be given in my great-great-grandfather’s own words. In a letter that he wrote to his wife when the battalion was on its way to Santa Fe, he wrote, “My faith is so strong as ever [and when I think of the things that Brigham Young told us], I believe it about the same as if the Great God had told me.”

In short, he knew he was listening to a prophet of God, as did the other men. That is why they did it! They knew they were led by a prophet of God.

In that same letter, he expressed his tender feelings for his wife and children and told of his constant prayers that she and the children would be blessed.

Later in the letter, he made this powerful statement: “We must not forget the things which you and I heard and [experienced] in the Temple of the Lord.”

Combined with his earlier testimony that “we are led by a Prophet of God,” these two sacred admonitions have become like scripture to me.

Eighteen months after departing with the battalion, Robert Harris was safely reunited with his beloved Maria. They stayed true and faithful to the restored gospel throughout their lives. They had 15 children, 13 of whom lived to maturity. My grandmother Fannye Walker, of Raymond, Alberta, Canada, was one of their 136 grandchildren.

Indeed, Leon wanted not only to be like the missionaries but to be a missionary himself. His parents were not pleased with his decision to be baptized nor his desire to serve a mission. “My family thought the Church was something bad, but I knew everything would be okay,” Leon recalls. From the time he started racing, Leon had been saving his earnings for a car. “I still had all that money,” Leon says. “It had been to buy a car, but then I realized that money was saved for something else. There are a lot more important things than a car.”
Taking two years off during his prime racing years may affect Leon’s professional career. He feared telling his teammates of his decision to serve, knowing how shocked they would be.

Imagine, in the center of the universe, our loving and kind Heavenly Father must have wiped His holy tears. Imagine the great gratitude of the Father for His Son’s willingness to give Himself for all of the Father’s children. The Father could have sent multitudes of the hosts of heaven to rescue His Son from that awful situation. But our Father must have closed His eyes in those final moments in order that you and I and other sons and daughters could have hope.

Last year, these children made videos of Old Testament stories like Adam and Eve, Noah’s ark, Jonah and the whale, and Daniel in the lions’ den. They had a premiere in a local movie theater, where their families, friends, and neighbors got to see their videos on a big screen. Since then, about 10,000 people have watched their Old Testament videos online. Cierra D., age 11, brought a friend to last year’s premiere. She thinks it’s great to make stories “about what you believe.”

It’s hard to believe it was only 120 years ago when Wilbur and Orville Wright first lifted off and flew over the sands of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. Four short flights on that December day changed the world and opened the door to one of the greatest inventions in the world’s history.
Flying was risky in those early days. The brothers knew this. And so did their father, Milton. In fact, he was so terrified of losing both of his sons in a flying accident that they promised him they would never fly together.
And they never did—with one exception. Seven years after that historic day at Kitty Hawk, Milton Wright finally gave his consent and watched as Wilbur and Orville flew together for the first time. After landing, Orville convinced his father to take his first and only flight and to see for himself what it was like.
As the plane lifted from the ground, the 82-year-old Milton got so caught up in the exhilaration of flight that all fear left him. Orville rejoiced as his father shouted with delight, “Higher, Orville, higher!”
This was a man after my own heart!

Short-term goals were also met via the fashion show. “It was great because my mom and I worked together on my outfit,” said Jennifer Beckham, 15, of the Rockwall Ward. “We took a whole day to go pick out the material, and as we cut it out and worked on it, we just talked about all sorts of things. It was really nice.”

Many say that steps four and five, which focus on personal inventory and confession, are the most challenging. But it depends on the individual. Paula, who struggled with compulsive eating and overdependence in her relationships, worked hardest on step eight—forgiving and restoring relationships—as she tried to forgive her abusive father. She says now, “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for this miracle in my life: to love and forgive.”

At the end of 1988 I was enjoying my calling as second counselor in the bishopric in Ciudad Ojeda, Venezuela, but I had a pressing concern. I had been a member of the Church for over a year, but I had not yet received my temple blessings.
One day a friend from the nearby city of Maracaibo came to visit. Before long we had struck up a conversation about spiritual matters.
Suddenly my friend was prompted to say, “Brother Troconiz, I believe that Heavenly Father wants you to go to the temple and receive the eternal blessings He has promised His children.”
“I cannot go,” I replied. “There is no temple here in Venezuela, and a trip out of the country is very expensive. I don’t have the money.”
He thought this over for a moment and then said, “If you really want to go to the temple, Heavenly Father will provide a way for you to go.”
I replied, “If Heavenly Father will provide that kind of help, I will go!”
From that moment on I was filled with faith and hope that I would be able to go to the temple. The next day I called the stake leaders and was told that a trip had been scheduled to the Lima Peru Temple, the closest temple at the time, in January. The trip would cost 16,500 bolivares and would cover the plane ticket, food, and lodging.
The days went by, and the deadline for turning in the money was fast approaching. I tried to earn the money, but I was no closer to having what I needed. My faith never faltered, however. I was that sure that Heavenly Father would provide a way.
Not long before the deadline, I received a telephone call from a former employer. The person calling addressed me by name and said, “You were employed by this petroleum company five years ago. When you left, your benefits were not calculated correctly. Please come in and pick up the check we have issued in your name.”
I went to get the check the next day. When I looked at the amount, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The check had been issued for exactly 16,500 bolivares!
On January 17, 1989, I entered the Lima Peru Temple and received my temple endowment. My friend was right. Heavenly Father had provided a way for me to go to the temple. As Nephi declared, “The Lord is able to do all things … for the children of men, if it so be that they exercise faith in him” (1 Nephi 7:12).

I did not serve a regular mission until we were called to preside in New England. When I was of missionary age, when I was your age, young men could not be called to the mission field. It was World War II, and I spent four years in the military. But I did do missionary work; we did share the gospel. It was my privilege to baptize one of the first two Japanese to join the Church after the mission had been closed 22 years earlier. Brother Elliot Richards baptized Tatsui Sato. I baptized his wife, Chio. And the work in Japan was reopened. We baptized them in a swimming pool amid the rubble of a university that had been destroyed by bombs.

“After traveling along several hundred kilometers the monotony was broken by our cattle stampeding. It seemed the longer we went and the harder the cattle worked, the easier they got frightened. The one that terrified me the most was at night. We had had one or two stampedes before so the cattle were prepared for one at any moment. I think it was because of the Indians, or it might have been the large herds of buffalo that we saw daily, that our company was counseled to corral their animals every night. At night the cattle were turned out to feed, they were watched and herded, then brought into the corral. It was made with wagons formed in a large circle with the wheels touching each other with one opening to drive them in, then logs were put across the opening, so they were perfectly secure.
“We were in buffalo country. We had heard what a terrible thing their stampedes were, and that not long before a large herd had started on their mad run and that when those in front came to a high bluff of the Platte River, they dashed in and made a bridge for the last ones who trampled to death and drowned their companions.
“One night about two o’clock the whole camp was peacefully sleeping when all at once there came an awful sound of tramping and bellowing, the ground shook, our wagon trembled and rocked. It flashed through my mind in a moment that a herd of buffalo was stampeding and that we would all be trampled to death. So I covered my head and prepared to die. Mother soon called out to Phebe and myself since there was no sound from our little bedroom (the front end of the wagon). I gave a smothered answer from under the bed clothes that I was alive.
“All at once there was a change. It was our own cattle that had broken out of the corral. Something had frightened them and then they started on their wild, mad run. They had run around and around inside and then broken through the logs blocking the opening. Nothing could hold them back. They scattered over the country for many kilometers. It took our men days and days to gather them back again, and they looked terrible, those that were left, for some died from exhaustion and others were killed. One pair of the captain’s cows ran up a very steep hill, fell backwards and broke their necks—one pair less to pull his wagon and one pair less to milk (oh the delicious milk—what a luxury on the plains).
“In that stampede there were two or three men hurt, one quite badly. He was a gold digger going to California who had overtaken us and was traveling with our company a while. The California emigrants traveled much faster than the Mormon emigrants. In trying to stop the cattle he was knocked down and trampled on. His groans were hideous. I did not see him again until one day the next winter, when he visited us. During all the time he was there he was down on his knees. He could stand up but could not sit down. I never heard from him again after he left for the gold mines. Old cattlemen say that tame, domestic horned cattle are the most crazy and wildest of all animals in a stampede. It is remarkable, but they seem to start all at once, just as if lightning had struck every one at the same instant.”

Toward the end of his mission in Seoul, Korea, Michael Tally Ringwood spent a day with an ill, apartment-bound companion, which provided an additional opportunity for study, reflection, and prayer.
“I felt that I needed reassurance,” says Elder Ringwood, now a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy. After praying for as long as he had ever prayed, the reassurance hadn’t come. It didn’t come when he turned to scripture study either. But finally, when Elder Ringwood turned to his missionary journal, the confirmation came.
“In every entry I read, I had written something significant about the Spirit. The message that came to me was this: ‘I have told you many times. How much more assurance do you need?’ That was the answer to my prayer. I realized that these witnesses had happened repeatedly and often. The Lord had always been there. He was reminding me that I had felt the Spirit and the testifying of the Holy Ghost.”
That lesson has served Elder Ringwood throughout his life and callings as bishop, high councilor, high priests group leader, Young Men president, Scoutmaster, stake president, and president of the Korea Seoul West Mission.

The look on my mother’s face broke my heart. Shock. Dismay. Disappointment. All filled her eyes one after the other and then merged into one emotion—betrayal.
Despite her teaching me all my 15 years to honor Heavenly Father in word and deed, there I stood, guilty of letting a particularly offensive word slip past my lips.
I hadn’t meant to swear. Before that year, I had never used foul language. But that summer I had worked for Utah’s Fish and Game Department and picked up the habit from other boys working alongside me.
Our main job was cutting burdock off the side of state roads. We quickly decided that Arctium minus is a particularly evil weed. It grows in volumes just about anywhere, and it crowds out most other plants. Its burs stick to anything that comes near.
Shovels in hand, we battled that nemesis all summer to the point of exhaustion—and dirty language. At first I found my comrades’ language offensive. Then I tolerated it. Finally, I adopted it. By the end of the summer, swearing was sticking to my words as securely as burdock burs to dog hair.
My mother’s reaction to my slip of tongue, however, convinced me that I needed to change.
It wasn’t easy. Swearing is not just a choice of words. It is also a pattern of thinking. The conversations we allow into our lives, the words we read, and the images we view shape our thoughts. I soon learned that I needed to change what I invited into my mind if I wanted to change the words I used.
Thankfully, I was active in attending church and seminary. Swearing had crowded out higher thoughts, but being in an environment where I was exposed to those higher thoughts allowed them to take root again. I concentrated on reading the scriptures every day and praying. I stayed away from movies and television programs that reintroduced dark thoughts.
Gradually, I found my language improving. By the end of the year, I was free of my swearing habit.

I grew up in Rexburg, Idaho, where I was influenced and taught by a wonderful family, friends, teachers, and leaders. There are special experiences in the lives of all of us that touch our souls and make things different forever. One such experience happened in my youth. This experience transformed my life.
I was always active in the Church and progressed through the Aaronic Priesthood. When I was a teenager, Brother Jacob, my teacher, asked that I write down on a card what I had thought about during the sacrament. I took my card and began to write. First on the list was a basketball game we had won the night before. And then came a date after the game, and so went the list. Far removed and certainly not in bold letters was the name of Jesus Christ.
Each Sunday the card was filled out. For a young Aaronic Priesthood holder, the sacrament and sacrament meeting took on a new, expanded, and spiritual meaning. I anxiously looked forward to Sundays and to the opportunity to partake of the sacrament, as understanding the Savior’s Atonement was changing me. Every Sunday to this day, as I partake of the sacrament, I can see my card and review my list. Always on my list now, first of all, is the Savior of mankind.

When I decided to get baptized, it was because some of my troubles were resolved while I was taking the discussions. It wasn’t because I had prayed and received a testimony that the Book of Mormon was true or that Joseph Smith saw Heavenly Father and his Son, Jesus Christ. The missionaries had invited me to pray about these things, but I never did. I simply believed what the missionaries had taught me.
Three years after my baptism, a sister stood at the chapel podium and shared her testimony of the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith. She asked everyone to ponder this question: “Have we truly prayed about the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and about the experience Joseph Smith had?” This question hit me hard, and I thought to myself, “I have never prayed about these things, but I should and I will.”
I was motivated to take action because my faith at the time was weak and my testimony of the scriptures was shallow. That night I prayed to my Father about Joseph Smith and the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon.
I didn’t feel anything the first time I prayed, nor the second time. Not to be discouraged, I opened the scriptures to Joseph Smith—History 1:14–17, where it describes how Joseph went to the grove to have a personal prayer:
“I saw a pillar of light exactly over my head, above the brightness of the sun, which descended gradually until it fell upon me.
“It no sooner appeared than I found myself delivered. … When the light rested upon me I saw two Personages.”
As I read the words, I started shaking as if an electric current had gone through my whole body. Instantly I knew that Joseph Smith had indeed seen Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ. I knew that we had the Book of Mormon because God had it translated through His prophet.
I’m grateful that Heavenly Father granted me this witness of the truthfulness of the First Vision. I realized that if the gospel had not been restored, I would not have known my Redeemer. I know the fulness of the gospel is true, and I know I will receive God’s promises if I endure faithfully to the end.

When I met my wife, Pamela, she was the only member of the Church in her family. When we decided to get married, something seemed an obstacle. I had no money to get all the items listed by her father as requirements for her bride price.
I was a graduate with no job. The little I made from odd jobs here and there was barely enough. I lived in my Father’s house at the time. Faced with these challenges, Pamela and I fasted and prayed to Heavenly Father for help. I knew the Lord through His prophets and apostles have counseled that “young people should follow the Lord’s pattern of marriage in the temple without waiting for the payment of a bride price” (Dallin H. Oaks, “The Gospel Culture, Ensign, March 2012, 45). But Pamela’s father was not a member of the Church and saw this practice as proper traditional rites for marriage. After counseling with the Bishop, I decided to make a move. I love Pamela and wanted to obey the Lord’s commandment to marry in the temple. But I did not want to do that without the consent of her parents.
After a difficult and trying period, with the help of other, I began to get offers to paint buildings. After three painting jobs, I gathered the little I had, called on my family and travelled to Pamela’s village. Still, things seemed difficult and the marriage seemed impossible. Despair, melancholy and anger almost took over my faith, but the encouraging words of the leaders and the scriptures kept me focused and continue to trust in the Lord.
We were married traditionally on 13 February, 2016, wedded on 2 April and Sealed in Aba Nigeria Temple on 5 April in the same year. It felt like a dream to us. The Lord raised people who offered to help us with one thing or the other. The Lord literally made it happen. That experience is etched in our memories as one the many of the Lord’s miracles in our lives, a manifestation of His tender mercies towards us.
We have been joyfully married for almost three years now in the mercies of our Lord Jesus Christ.

My sister, Ashton, and I often make forts in our parents’ garage. We like to stock our fort with blankets, books, and toys. I always bring the Friend. One day while playing in our fort, I couldn’t find my Friend. I looked for a really long time and finally got down on my knees and prayed to Heavenly Father to help me. When I finished my prayer, I found the Friend in the first place I looked. I got back on my knees and said a prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father for helping me. I know that He always listens to our prayers.Peyton F., age 6, with help from her mom, Arizona

We are so grateful for the Church magazines. We are French members of the Church living in equatorial Africa, far from any Church meetings (the Church is not yet organized here). Along with prayer and scripture study, L’Etoile (French), which we receive each month, helps us to stay close to the Lord. We are deeply touched by the wonderful articles in this magazine. In our readings, the spirit that we felt at sacrament meeting in France is very present.
François and Anne-Marie BillerLibreville, Gabon

In one instance, the Laurel presidency discovered that one of their less-active members had an unusual doll collection. For one activity night, they all brought their favorite collections.