Gospel Story Finder

Q: You surprised a lot of people when you joined the Church. Could you tell us something about your conversion?
Kresimir: I had never heard about the Church before I came here. In Yugoslavia most of the young people are completely atheistic, and that’s the way I lived. When I came to Provo I didn’t change. I was an atheist for two years while I was in Provo. Nobody was farther from becoming a Mormon than I was. I just lived my way, and people lived their way. I obeyed all the rules of BYU, tried to be as good as I could, and tried to play ball and do my studying and other things. When I was a junior, I decided to figure out a few things. I had things I wanted to know.
I didn’t decide to join the Church because of any one thing. There were some things that I wanted to know. I had a few questions that no one could answer. It just happened. We as Mormons believe in personal things everyone can know by himself. It all depends on how bad you want to know something. That’s the whole point. If we have a desire in the Church to know something, we will know it; there’s no question about that. If something is really bothering you, you probably go to somebody for advice. If it’s football you want to know about—what kind of a play you are going to play—you can ask me, and I don’t have any idea. I just can’t help. It’s the same if you’re going to the wrong church. They can’t give you an answer. So you ask, and find out, and you join the true church. So I just decided to join the Church.
Q: I’ve heard that the Book of Mormon impressed you very much when you were studying the Church. Is this true?
Kresimir: Of course. You just read the book and want to get baptized—and that’s it.
Q: Who gave you the book?
Kresimir: You can buy those books for 50 cents.
Q: What impressed you about the Book of Mormon?
Kresimir: Well, it’s certainly the best book I have ever read. There’s no question about that. The book applies to today’s people much more than in the days when Joseph Smith translated it, because it speaks about the way it is now. I was traveling all over the world, and I saw many places, and I saw most of the prophecies being fulfilled; it’s amazing. That really is a good book. There are many things in it that are coming true now.
Q: Were your friends in Yugoslavia surprised when they learned you had joined the Church?
Kresimir: You bet they were surprised. That’s the last thing they thought was going to happen.
Q: Did joining the Church change your goals in life?
Kresimir: Of course. We talk all the time about being born again. Especially if you have lived the way I did, you better be born completely. You don’t just get in the middle. You’ve got to change all things.
Q: Have you been happier since becoming a member of the Church?
Kresimir: Of course. And if I hadn’t known I would be, I wouldn’t have been baptized.

Now that I had a testimony of the restored gospel, what about my ministry? I still had 10 months left in my contract as a minister. After much prayer and counseling with God, I decided to complete my service. For the next 10 months, I continued to share traditional Bible truths, but when possible I added the perspective of the restored gospel. People resonated with those truths, and my little flock grew from 20 to nearly 150.

Which prophet left on a mission to the southern states after only a week of marriage? His bride joined him a few months later, and they served in the mission field together. In his younger days he enjoyed singing humorous songs. He was an outstanding Scouter.

Ovie May will join in with stories about going to church in the old days: “The first Sunday School we had was held in a two-bedroom home,” she explains. “We put planks between the chairs to make benches. Anytime the missionaries would come through, they’d stay for a week and we’d have meetings. I can remember when there wouldn’t be anybody there but our family.”

When Calvin started stuttering just asking for the salt and pepper, I knew something was wrong. Calvin had always had trouble talking. It was cute when he was two or three years old, and endearing when he was five or six. But by the time he was seven or eight and still stuttering, Mom took him to a speech clinic. After that the problem seemed to clear up, except for certain times when Calvin was upset about something.
Calvin is my older brother, and I can tell when he’s scared about something—partly because of the stuttering but also because of little things that he says or does.
He was worried about becoming a priest and blessing the sacrament. It isn’t that he didn’t want to bless the sacrament—he did. That was the whole problem. Calvin takes things like that very seriously. He didn’t want anybody, especially the deacons on the front bench, to have an excuse for giggling during that sacred ordinance, even if they were only making fun of the way that Calvin said the prayer.
Calvin is a reader, and I guess that’s where he got the idea of using marbles. Some Greek man by the name of Demosthenes used to recite aloud while climbing steep hills or put rocks in his mouth and then shout speeches over the roar of the ocean waves so that he could talk more clearly. I thought it was a silly thing to do when Calvin told me about it—he might swallow the rocks or something—but Calvin was desperate, I guess. He knew Mom would be angry if she ever caught him putting rocks in his mouth, so marbles were the closest substitute he could think of.
I collect marbles. I can’t do much with them, but I like to look at the different colors and what light can do when it shines through them. Calvin came downstairs to my room one day and stood in the doorway for a long time, just watching me. My brother has a way of standing sometimes that tells me he has something on his mind, and he was standing that way then. A tall guy, maybe too skinny, with very short, very blond hair. Calvin likes to play ball in the summer and hair gets in his way. There was a funny look on his face while he watched me. I was sitting on my bed, and I had all my marbles spread out in front of me. They looked gorgeous.
“Jenny,” he said finally. I looked up and waited. “Would you sell me five or six of your marbles?” That’s when he turned red—a dead giveaway. My brother always turns red when he talks about something important to him. The speech therapist says that it’s part of the same pattern that makes Calvin stutter and that it would go away in time. So far that part hadn’t come true.
Then Calvin seemed to change his mind and said, “It’s not important.”
I scooped up a red marble and held it up to the light so that I could see the bubbles inside. “If it isn’t important,” I asked, “then why buy them?”
He didn’t say anything, and I knew that if he tried to talk, the words would come out in a long stream of stuttering. He looked at me though, and there was agony in that expression. Then he turned around and walked out of my room.
Later, of course, I gave some marbles to him. What else could I do? I washed six of them, dried them off, and put them in a box. Then I put the box on his bed. When he came to the supper table, I said, “There’s something for you on your bed, Calvin.”
He didn’t say anything then either, but I could see what was in his eyes.
I didn’t hear anything more about the marbles for a long time. Calvin is pretty cautious when he doesn’t want people to know about something. But his birthday was coming closer every day. And each Sunday when the sacrament was being prepared, I would find myself looking at my brother. He would be scrunched down in his seat, and I could imagine what he was thinking. Sometimes while the prayer was being said, I almost forgot to close my eyes. He’d listen so intently that it seemed he was listening hard enough for both of us.
The thing that I dreaded was when someone made a mistake in repeating the sacrament prayer. When it happened I looked at Calvin, and I could see him hurting inside, waiting for the time when he would have to kneel and say the prayer. He had such a strong feeling for that prayer that he wanted it to be perfect. It really mattered to him and I knew it!
One day I went downstairs and I could hear mumbling, so I began looking for the source. It was coming from the laundry room. I turned out the downstairs light, walked over to the laundry room door as quietly as I could, and opened it. Calvin was standing by the washing machine with my marbles in his mouth. He was saying something, though I couldn’t make out the words through all the marbles.
I stood there for a long time. But I didn’t want Calvin to know that I had seen him, so I turned around and went out. Then I came back into the room a second time as noisily as I could, on the pretense of getting some soap. The mumbling sound stopped immediately. Calvin nodded and I went out again and up to my room. In a few minutes I heard him come upstairs.
Several weeks later it was Calvin’s birthday. The Sunday after, he was ordained a priest and assigned to give one of the sacrament prayers.
I can still remember sitting there, staring at him and seeing how the light hit his blond hair, making it shine. Boys aren’t supposed to be beautiful—or at least, you’re not supposed to admit that they are—but Calvin was beautiful. I was so scared for him that I thought my heart would stop beating. I was sure his agony was going to make me cry.
Suddenly he looked straight at me, and there was in his eyes an expression that made me know that he knew that he would be all right. Then he got down on his knees, the way the priests do, and started the prayer.
Nobody cries during the sacrament except the older ladies, but that Sunday I couldn’t help crying too. Calvin’s voice was soft, but it carried to the back of the chapel. I’ve never heard anybody else give the prayer the way he gave it that Sunday. He began, “O God, the Eternal Father, we ask thee . …” And he didn’t make a single mistake.
I sat and wept, because it was beautiful, and because I love my brother! And that night when I went upstairs I found the marbles back on my bed.
Someday I guess I’m going to be old, and there’s not much I can do about it. But even if I’m ninety, I’ll never get rid of those marbles, any more than I can get rid of the memory of that first time Calvin blessed the sacrament.

Mother Holly This fairy tale, older than the Brothers Grimm, is about a little girl who fell into a well and was rewarded for all the good things that she did. Her not-so-good sister then jumped into the well—and the reward that she earned was quite different!Bernadette Watts (reteller)5–8 years

I am moved by the inspiring example of Melissa Engle of West Valley City, Utah. Melissa was featured in the August 1992 issue of the New Era. She told her own story:
“When I was born I only had a thumb on my right hand because the umbilical cord got wrapped around my fingers and [severed them]. My dad wanted to find something I could do to strengthen my hand and make it useful. Playing the violin seemed like a natural because I wouldn’t have to finger with both hands, like you would with a flute. …
“I’ve been playing for about eight years now. I take private lessons, and I have to work at things like a paper route to help pay for them. I get to [my violin] lessons by riding a bus across town. …
“A highlight [of my life] was Interlochen, located on a lake in Michigan, one of the best music camps in the world for [youth]. I sent in my application for the eight weeks of intensive music training and couldn’t believe I [was] accepted.
“The only problem was money. It cost thousands of dollars, and there was no way I [could] make that much before the deadline. So I prayed and prayed, and about a week before I had to send in the money, I was called into the office of a man who had a grant for someone with a handicap who was pursuing the arts. That, to me, was a miracle, and I’m really grateful for it.”
Melissa, when she received the grant, turned to her mother, who had been anxious not to see her daughter disappointed and had thus attempted to curb her enthusiasm and hope, and said, “Mother, I told you Heavenly Father answers prayers, for look how He has answered mine.”
He that notes a sparrow’s fall had fulfilled a child’s dream, answered a child’s prayer. Melissa has since gone on to earn a college degree and to serve a full-time mission in Croatia.

I was five years old when our grandmother died back in 1892. We children stayed upstairs while all the neighbors gathered in the parlor below for the funeral.
“My little sister and I pressed our noses against the windowpane, and we saw horses and carriages and wagons up and down the whole lane.
“Then we saw the two black velvet horses come, pulling the shiny black hearse toward the house. The horses had gold fringes on their necks, and the high-wheeled hearse had windows on the sides with gold drapes and gold fringes.
“The horses walked slowly, and they looked sad. I was sad too because we loved our grandmother and I didn’t understand, but I did know she would not be in our house anymore.
“My mama cried, and her sister, Aunt Emily, came, and she held her little baby and cried. I felt sorry for them, but I didn’t cry.
“Mama told me grandmother was old and needed to rest, so I didn’t cry.
“It was two weeks afterward that I did cry. Just a few days after the funeral, Aunt Emily’s little baby took pneumonia. Maybe because she had been moved from her own house over in Emporia. We tiptoed around the house, my little sister Becca and I. We tiptoed, and we didn’t ask for anything. But the little baby died.
“We were back upstairs, and the carriages were again up and down the lane. This time a little white hearse came, drawn by two little white ponies.
“Now,” continued our grandmother, as the tape circled around her words. “Now we have sealed them all in the temple of the Lord, and they are together again. They didn’t know while they were on this earth that they could be together. Missionaries never came to our countryside homes.”

Illustration by Craig Stapley
I have a lot of good friends. Some go to church, and some don’t. One day a group of us, including one other LDS young woman, was eating lunch when a few of my friends began to use the Lord’s name in vain. No one else seemed bothered by it, and soon other students at the table started saying the Lord’s name in vain too. At first I thought, “Just let it slide; they don’t know any better.” But then it started to really bother me. They kept saying it, and I felt a pit in my stomach. So I stood up. I said firmly, “It really bothers me when you talk like that. Please stop.”
They laughed and kept going.
I stood up again, but this time my LDS friend stood up with me. We grabbed our lunches and moved somewhere else. It felt good to leave the table when they were doing that. As I walked away, I felt the Spirit.
I’m glad my friend left with me. It reminded me of the song “We’ll Bring the World His Truth” (Children’s Songbook, 172–73) and how “we must do as the Lord commands.” While I may not have had an “army of Helaman,” my friend showed me that I am not the only person trying “to bring the world [H]is truth.”

When I was called as first counselor in the bishopric, sacrament meeting attendance in our ward had dwindled. As a bishopric, we decided to fast fervently and pray to Heavenly Father to give us the wisdom to know how to strengthen the members.
The Lord inspired us to emphasize the sacrament meeting as a spiritual feast, so we came up with a way to invite the members, their friends, and their neighbors to come to sacrament meeting and experience a spiritual feast. We made invitations that said, “Come and hear, see, and feel the presence of the Lord in a spiritual feast” and gave them to each of the members, including the young men and young women.
We also prepared a small ward choir of eight voices. We prayerfully selected spiritual hymns and speakers and invited members to help with the reverence of the occasion.
Everything was ready for the spiritual feast! Attendance that Sunday included 42 investigators and less-active members. At the second spiritual feast, there were 64 investigators and less-active members. Three months later we could no longer fit in the chapel, and six months later our ward had grown so much that we were preparing for it to be divided into two wards.
We learned that treating sacrament meeting as more than just a Sunday meeting but as a sacred experience gave us a marvelous opportunity to invite our loved ones to come unto Christ through a sacred spiritual feast.
Our preparation to improve the quality of the spirit and reverence of sacrament meeting helped improve the attendance of the people who had never imagined feeling joy by coming to see, feel, and find it in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Latter-day Saint Alma Richards made the 1912 Olympic team.
A high jumper, Alma Richards was part of the 1912 track and field Olympic team that competed in Stockholm, Sweden. During the competition, others were eliminated one by one until only Alma and one other remained.
“As Alma prepared to jump, his mind raced. There he was, representing his country at the greatest athletic competition in the world. Yet he felt weak, as if the whole world were resting on his shoulders. He thought of Utah, his family, and his hometown. He thought of BYU and the Saints. Bowing his head, he silently asked God to give him strength. ‘If it is right that I should win,’ he prayed, ‘I will do my best to set a good example all the days of my life.’”
Drawing upon strength from the Lord, Alma jumped and cleared the high bar. When his remaining competitor failed, Alma won the gold medal.
Later, a friend “teased him about praying before his winning jump. ‘I wish you wouldn’t laugh,’ Alma quietly responded. ‘I prayed to the Lord to give me strength to go over that bar, and I went over.’”

The gospel has long been established in Mexico, but there are still areas where the Church is developing. Jaime Cruz, age 15, and his family are the only members of the Church in their small town in the mountains above Oaxaca City. He and his friend Gonzalo work on home-study seminary during the week. Every Saturday they travel two hours by bus to go to the nearest chapel for seminary class with other youth from their ward. Jaime shares what he learns in seminary with his classmates at school and answers their questions. Jaime’s younger brother, Alex, a deacon, is a leader among his friends. Alex says that when he asks them nicely not to use bad language or wear inappropriate clothing, they listen to what he says. Jaime and Alex both know that holding the priesthood is an honor and a responsibility. “I know that the priesthood is given to young men to glorify God’s name by serving others and preaching the gospel,” Jaime says.

I left my quiet harbor
In favor of another—I know not where.
But first,
there are seas to cross
and storms to brave.
How could I prefer the foreign deep
to the encircling arms of my bay?
Because some things
can only be learned
at sea.
Yes, my craft is watertight.
I can navigate the unknown,
And O, the wind that fills my sails
blows from home.

For my birthday this year, I decided to have a lemonade stand and a bake sale and give the money to a children’s hospital. My sister, cousins, and I made flyers and took them around our neighborhood. Then we made treats and lemonade. We were so excited to see so many friends and neighbors come to our sale. I am happy I could help the sick children and their families. I think that’s what Jesus would do.
Avery J., age 7, Utah, USA

Once Upon a Golden Apple “… there lived Snow White and the three bears.” So starts the story as Dad tries to see if his children will catch on to the mix-up. They do and have fun—as does the artist—all the way to “They all lived happily ever after.”Jean Little and Maggie de Vries3–8 years

Barbara and I have been blessed with six children. Some years ago, when we had taken all of them to visit with their grandparents, my father said, “Joe, I think you and Barbara have started something you can’t stop.”

Once while I was traveling in an area plagued by violence and social unrest, a sensitive priesthood leader perceived my fear and shared with me a few words that brought comfort.
When he was a boy, his mother, finding herself suddenly single and destitute, drew strength from the following words she read in an old book:
“I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year, ‘Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.’
“And he replied:
“‘Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way’” (Minnie Louise Haskins, in The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, 4th ed., ed. Angela Partington [1996], 328).
My friend’s mother rebuilt her life and created a firm foundation by following this admonition. I too was sustained in my time of concern by pressing forward into the unknown, armed with the knowledge that the Lord’s companionship was better than any mortal protection.

When I was about 12, I wanted to know for myself that the Book of Mormon was true. In a talk, I could testify that the Book of Mormon is the word of God because my Primary teacher had said it. But inside myself, I didn’t understand what that meant.
I knew the promise of Moroni that said that if I read, pondered, and prayed, I could know also (see Moroni 10:3–4). I read for weeks and felt at peace, but it didn’t produce anything spectacular—no light, no angels, no voice. In the end, I quit reading the Book of Mormon.
One day while studying Exodus, I read that when the Israelites lacked food, God sent manna to them. Each person was to take a certain amount each day. He sent them food, but they had to figure out how to gather it.
Nephi’s words came to me: “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 Nephi 3:7). From this I understood that God had commanded the Israelites to leave Egypt and planned to provide for their hunger. This Book of Mormon scripture enlightened my understanding of the Bible, and I concluded that the Book of Mormon was the word of God.
As Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles explained, personal revelation resembles more the gradual rising of the sun than the light that is suddenly produced when we flip a switch.1 I began to see the Book of Mormon in a different way.
During the months that followed, I knew more surely than ever that the Book of Mormon was the word of God. The impression I felt numerous times through the voice of the Spirit was “It’s true, it’s true, it’s true.”
I still read the Book of Mormon almost every day, and every time, I hear these words: “It’s true.”

Tyler held the church door open, and Mom hurried inside. They were late for the ward Christmas party, so Tyler could only glance at the new Christmas tree in the foyer. But there was something different about the tree. It didn’t have any lights. Or lots of ornaments. Instead there were little papers hanging from the branches.
“Welcome,” said the bishop from the front of the room. “Before we start our program, I have a special announcement …”
Tyler’s little sister, Rose, started fussing, so Tyler leaned down to help her. Over the noise, Tyler thought he heard the bishop say something like “the Getting Tree” and “take a tag.” If the tree in the foyer had gifts, Tyler wanted first pick. While everyone else watched the program, Tyler slipped away before the end.
Carefully Tyler lifted a paper off a branch. The first tag read, Girl: Winter coat—Size 5. He put it back. The next read, Grocery Gift Card. Tyler worried they might all be boring gifts. But then he found just the right one. Boy: Big Whirl Helicopter. He stuffed the tag in his pocket and raced to find Mom.
“There you are,” Mom said. “It’s almost time to leave.”
“OK,” said Tyler. “But first, I picked this from the Getting Tree. How do I get my helicopter?”
“Oh, honey,” said Mom. “It’s not the Getting Tree. It’s the Giving Tree. The tags are gifts for families in need.”
Tyler’s cheeks burned. He wanted to put the tag back, but other people had gathered around the tree. After church tomorrow, when no one was looking, he would put it back.
The next day Tyler’s Primary teacher told about the Wise Men who brought gifts to Jesus. “What could you give Jesus for Christmas?” she asked.
Tyler closed his fingers around the gift tag in his pocket. He didn’t feel embarrassed anymore. He felt like he wanted to give. The only problem was he didn’t have gold, frankincense, or myrrh. But maybe he could earn some money for a Big Whirl Helicopter.
As soon as Tyler got home, he dumped the money from his piggy bank on the bed. He had $2.47—not enough. He asked Mom if he could do chores for money, but she said, “Not on Sunday.” The gift had to be turned in by next week. Could he earn the money in time?
While he thought, Rose brought him the Friend magazine. As Tyler read to her, he saw the answer to his problem. The Friend had a story about kids running a hot-chocolate stand to earn money to donate.
“Mom?” Tyler asked. “Could I set up a cocoa stand tomorrow?”
“Maybe. Why?” Mom asked.
“To earn money for the Giving Tree present.”
Mom gave him a hug. “Sure. I’ll help you.”
The next day Tyler put a table and chairs outside. Mom boiled water, and Tyler mixed in the cocoa. Rose even helped by holding a sign. By the end of the afternoon, Tyler’s nose was cold and his fingers felt stiff, but he had enough money for the Big Whirl Helicopter.
Tyler felt happy all the way to the store. He smiled as he wrapped the gift and dropped it off to the bishop. He knew now it was called the Giving Tree, but the feeling he had inside was like a special gift too. At least in that way, it really was the Getting Tree.

This story happened in the USA.
“Good night, Mom.” Calan climbed into bed.
“Good night. I love you, and Heavenly Father loves you too.” Mom gave him a hug and turned off the light.
Calan stared up at the ceiling. Mom and Dad always told him that Heavenly Father loved him. But was that true? Calan wasn’t perfect, and sometimes he made mistakes. Did Heavenly Father really love him?
He rolled over in his bed. His parents showed him love in lots of ways, like giving him hugs. But he had never gotten a hug from Heavenly Father. So how could He feel Heavenly Father’s love?
The next day was Sunday. As Calan got dressed in his church clothes, he still wondered if Heavenly Father loved him. How could he know how Heavenly Father really felt about him?
At church, Calan and his brother and sisters tried to sit quietly and listen to the speakers. Mom passed some crayons and paper to Sierra, and Dad held Jonny in his lap.
But Calan was still thinking about his question. Then he got an idea.
He opened his scriptures. Mom and Dad said the Book of Mormon told about things Heavenly Father wants us to know. Maybe the Book of Mormon could answer Calan’s question.
Calan started to flip through the pages. He saw verses about Alma the Younger and Samuel the Lamanite. But he didn’t see any words about Heavenly Father’s love.
When it was time for Primary, Calan brought his Book of Mormon with him. He read more verses. At the back of the Book of Mormon he found a list of scriptures about love. He looked up some verses, but he still didn’t see anything about how Heavenly Father loved him.
Then it was time for class. Brother and Sister Walters gave the class time to find a verse in the Book of Mormon that felt important to each of them.
Calan opened his scriptures again.
Finally he saw a verse he hadn’t read yet. It was about Nephi when he saw a vision and spoke to an angel.
Calan felt warm as he read Nephi’s words about Heavenly Father. “I know that he loveth his children” (1 Nephi 11:17). Calan read the verse again. He felt a powerful feeling in his heart. It felt like a big hug. Heavenly Father did love him!
After Primary, Calan was excited to tell Mom what he learned. “Heavenly Father loves His children. It says it right here in the Book of Mormon,” Calan said. “And that means He loves me!”
Mom gave Calan a big hug. “That’s true. Heavenly Father loves you so much.”
Calan felt so happy. He might not be able to get a hug from Heavenly Father, but feeling the Holy Ghost was just as good.
Today, Calan is serving a mission in Brazil. He still loves this verse from the Book of Mormon. He is happy to share Heavenly Father’s love with others!
Illustrations by Josh Talbot