Gospel Story Finder

The roots of Tom’s mastery are sunk in Czechoslovakia where German-born Joseph Rehak moved with his widowed mother when he was only one year old. They were desperately poor, but Joseph was resilient, and as he grew up, he began to learn the fine art of pastry baking. He honed his skills and learned many recipes by going from shop to shop, working at each for a while and absorbing what he could from the finest bakers in Czechoslovakia. When he opened his own shop, he was as good as the best. The business grew rapidly, and when World War II came, he had a large business with many employees.
The war changed all that. He survived the Nazi occupation somehow, but after the war the communists took away everything he had. He fled to Canada and started all over again. With the help of his wife, he opened the bakery in Hamilton, and it prospered.
This experience, passed on to the family, impressed Tom deeply. “It really makes me realize how great it is to be in Canada with the freedoms we have,” he says. “A lot of people take for granted living in a free country, having food on their plate, and owning good clothes to wear. I don’t take those things for granted because my father’s rough childhood is a constant reminder of how good I have it.”

In a message of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s Music and the Spoken Word, a story was told about an elderly man and woman who had been married for many decades. Because the wife was slowly losing her sight, she could no longer take care of herself the way she had done for so many years. Without being asked, the husband began to paint her fingernails for her.
Photo illustration by Jupiterimages/liquidlibrary/Thinkstock
“He knew that she could see her fingernails when she held them close to her eyes, at just the right angle, and they made her smile. He liked to see her happy, so he kept painting her nails for more than five years before she passed away.”3

I stood in line at a gas station. In front of me, a mother with two small children asked for $3 worth of gas and two vanilla ice cream cones.
At first glance I could see that they had very little. The children were barefoot and wearing tattered clothing.
I heard the woman place what seemed to be an infinite number of coins on the counter to pay her bill.
After paying for my gas, I walked out and glanced at the mother’s car. It was an older model that likely got very poor gas mileage.
I felt a twinge of sympathy for this mother of two, but I started my motorcycle and went on with my day.
Less than a minute into my ride on the highway, a voice came to me: “Go help her.” The prompting came twice.
I shook my head, thinking that she had probably already left. What would I say to her anyway?
The voice came clearly a third time: “Go help her!”
I turned back toward the service station, trying to figure out what I was going to say if she was still there.
Upon arriving, I saw that her car doors were open. She was in the driver’s seat, and her two small children were enjoying their ice cream in the backseat.
I offered a small prayer, asking Heavenly Father what I should say. The same voice said to me, “Introduce yourself and ask if she needs help.” I approached her car and introduced myself. I shared with her that I felt impressed to ask her if she needed help.
She began to cry and said, “I just finished praying to Jesus, asking Him to send someone to help me.”
Heavenly Father had answered her prayer. I paid to fill up her tank with gas and gave her the phone number of someone in our elders quorum who was hiring at the time. I do not know what happened with this young mother afterward, but I am grateful I followed the prompting to help her.

I hate how nervous I get at piano recitals. I practiced hard, but …
Cassie’s a lot younger than I am, but she’s so much better. And I’m next after her. Yikes!
Later, at home.
I guess I did OK. But I’ll never be as good as Cassie. Maybe my lessons are just a waste of money.
Cassie does have a special gift. Someday she might be better than your teacher. But—
Not everything is a competition. I know you like making music. And we enjoy it too. When you were playing, your dad’s head was back and his eyes were closed.
Yeah, he does that in church sometimes too.
Well, he was smiling. And tapping his fingers. He was enjoying it, and so was I.
Just do your best, and you’ll enjoy your gift too.

Daily study of the scriptures is another important family activity. I remember when my son was seven years old. He was taking a shower one night during a storm when we lost the power in our home. My wife called to him and told him to hurry to finish his shower and to then take a candle and come slowly downstairs for our family prayer. She warned him to be careful to not drop the candle on the carpet because it could start a fire and the house could burn down. Several minutes later he came down the stairs struggling to hold the candle in one hand, and with his other arm he was carrying his scriptures. His mother asked him why he was bringing his scriptures. His answer to her was “Mom, if the house burns down, I must save my scriptures!” We knew that our efforts to help him to love the scriptures had been planted in his heart forever.

After months of logistical planning and bike training, 30 young men, young women, and leaders in the Crossroads and Beech Grove Wards from Indianapolis, Indiana, got on bikes and pedaled from their chapel to the Louisville Kentucky Temple. But this was not just a little Saturday morning ride. The bike trip extended over two days and covered 155 miles (249 km). It was an experience these youth will never forget.
Along the way were devotionals, occasional police escorts, campouts, firesides, overcoming steep hills and illnesses. When they finally arrived, the temple opened an hour early so the youth could have an extra hour to do baptisms; many of the youth doing family names they had brought with them.

Some time ago, I met with a husband and wife having severe marital problems. When they came in for counseling, the wife described their problems in detail, but the husband said nothing. I tried to get him to talk, but he was sullen and answered every question with only one or two words. His wife always jumped in to give more complete answers.
Finally, I invited her to leave the room, then spoke with him alone. At first, he said very little. But when he found that I gave him time to formulate his answers and that I didn’t interrupt, criticize, or judge him, he began to speak freely.
From that point on, I said little. As the interview came to an end, he seemed relieved. With real feeling he said, “Thanks for listening to me. I have wanted to tell my wife these things for years, but she never wants to hear what I have to say.”
The man had a difficult time formulating and expressing his thoughts, but he showed deep feeling. And he was clearly relieved to finally be able to put those feelings into words. Fortunately, this couple was able to rediscover that they loved each other dearly. Both wanted to build a strong, supportive marriage, and both wanted to do their part.
The husband in our opening example clearly needed someone to listen to him, not someone with whom to discuss his problem. When a person is frustrated by not being heard, the remedy is for someone to listen, not to talk.

I’ve written to you before but for nothing like this. I am writing to thank you for your article “How to Find Safety and Peace” (Nov. 1997) because I don’t think you’ll ever know truly how much it has helped me. I have had my fair share of sins, and pornography is probably the worst of them all. I had four magazines hidden that I would look at. I would make excuses to myself, but it got to the point where I was wondering if I could get away with buying a pornographic movie. Well, when I read your article, it knocked me back into reality. As soon as I was done reading the article, I went into my room and threw the disgusting magazines away. Thank you.
Name WithheldWashington

“Face the music, even when you can’t call the tune,” says a brother forced to take disability leave as his wife returns to the workforce to support their family. He believes that too often we put on a happy face that prevents us from processing our feelings or improving our outlook. “Instead of moving forward with faith, we stagnate as we wait for a miracle or murmur when one doesn’t come,” he says. He copes by listening to scriptures and general conference talks and by visiting with friends and family on the phone.

by Elder Greg NelsonRussia St. Petersburg Mission
It was Christmas Eve around the world, but just another frosty December night in St. Petersburg, Russia. This country celebrated no such holiday.
Our zone had just presented a Christmas program in the huge Kazanski Cathedral, where we sang Christmas songs and read from the book of Luke. It seemed as if our words and notes drifted up to the lofty ceiling and were swallowed by the darkness. But the sparse audience, mostly members and investigators, had partaken of the Spirit.
Our missionary work hadn’t been going well. People didn’t want to listen to two humble young men give them a message of redeeming love. Perhaps because of my discouragement, the Christmas celebration planned for later that evening didn’t hold much appeal for me.
My boots kicked up some new fallen snow and I shoved my bare hands deeper into my pockets. My gloves had been misplaced at a hotel a few days earlier. In this country, you don’t just walk into a store and buy gloves. You need to search.
Suddenly, Elder Redd sat down on a bench in the small park in front of the cathedral. I thought, Oh, now what? I just want to go home where it’s warmer.
Home was not the right thing to think about. It brought a flood of memories I really didn’t want to ponder right then. This was my first Christmas away, and I was feeling down. Where were all the decorations and the hustle and bustle of the holiday season? What about stockings, Christmas trees, and nativity scenes?
We hadn’t been able to get through to the international operator, so it looked as if I couldn’t make my phone call home either.
Tears welled in my eyes. I turned around so my back was to the wind. As I faced the cathedral, everything began to grow quiet. I looked at the majestic structure in front of me, bathed in pale, green light. The stars above were pin dots on a black shade, radiating calmness and peace.
“Silent night, holy night; all is calm, all is bright. …” The phrases softly entered my mind and drifted in whispers from my lips. “Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace.” Elder Redd heard me and joined in a little bit louder. There was a feeling of reverence.
As we sang the second and third verses, a warm realization came to me. The joy, happiness, and peace at Christmas come from within. The material things and outward symbols of celebration bring sweet feelings, but only for a short moment.
Instantly, the thought of sharing Christmas with the other elders became appealing. It would be a gathering of friendship and love. We missionaries all needed to strengthen each other.
Christmas is what you make of it. It doesn’t matter if you’re with family and friends or halfway around the world. The real gifts at Christmastime are the fruits of the Spirit. Paul said, “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith” (Gal. 5:22). Could one ask for anything more during the celebration of Christ’s birth?

When I was 11, my family had to leave East Germany. We moved to Frankfurt, West Germany. Until my father could find a job like he had before, he and my mother operated a laundry to make a living, and I was the laundry delivery boy. I saw some shiny red bicycles, and I wished I could have one to make my deliveries. But I needed a heavy-duty bicycle to pull the cart with the laundry on it. I rode around pulling that heavy laundry cart before school and after school. It was hard to see the other children play, especially during the winter months. But everybody in our family had to work hard, and I knew I was an important part of the family business. I felt needed and valued.

Last year the Williamsport Pennsylvania Stake Laurels hiked through the little village of Nauvoo—but not in Illinois. They hiked through Nauvoo, Pennsylvania, and learned about its history. The Williamsport stake covers a large area encompassing 11 counties, and some of the girls are the only members in their entire high school. So learning about once-thriving congregations of early Latter-day Saints within their present-day stake boundaries is inspiring to them.
The young women stopped to talk to an elderly man at the edge of the road on the outskirts of Nauvoo. Earl, age 70, a lifelong resident confirmed that his Nauvoo community was a Mormon settlement during the 1840s and named after the Mormon city in Illinois. “Our borough was named Nauvoo by a prominent Mormon leader,” he said. When asked what he thought the word Nauvoo meant, he was unsure and thought it might be a Native American word. Earl seemed pleased to learn that Nauvoo is Hebrew and means beautiful, a place of rest and beauty.

He was always tall. “By the time I was 13, I was already 182 cm (six feet). But my real growth spurt didn’t begin until my sophomore year in high school.” He reached his full height by his senior year, and, as with most tall kids, it was assumed he would play basketball. That was not to be.
““I never really liked basketball,” he noted. “The other kids and the coaches always kind of made fun of me, telling me I couldn’t jump.”
His mother urged him, instead, to try a local recreation league volleyball team. “I had never had so much fun in any sport before,” Chambers says. “I was hooked! Even though I wasn’t very good, I went home and told Mom that volleyball was the sport for me!”
Great club coaching helped him find his footing in the game, and because of his prodigious height, they made him a middle blocker. Finally, the burden of being tall began to pay-off. After a season of club volleyball, he was anxious to join his high school team and test his new skills. But disaster struck in his very first scrimmage.
““I jumped and extended myself to try and block a ball, and when I came down, I landed on the foot of the guy on the other side of the net and broke my ankle,” Chambers recounted. “I had to wear a boot everywhere after that and I didn’t get to play at all my freshman season.”
““It was frustrating to have made progress in this new sport I really liked, then lose that whole season.”
But from the ashes of that setback rose the phoenix of an all-star career. Over the next three years, Chambers became a feared opponent on the court, drawing the attention of college volleyball teams throughout the US. He turned down scholarships offered by top schools—Stanford and UCLA among them—in favour of what he truly wanted: to play for the nationally-ranked Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah (USA).
Chambers’ youth career culminated in the summer of 2022, with the victory of his Orange Coast Volleyball Club at the under-18 national club volleyball championship. Chambers was named first-team all-American by the American Volleyball Coaches Association. The kid who couldn’t jump had proven all of those early naysayers wrong.

And bishops, it is important that we help them to understand and appreciate what the priesthood means. When I was a bishop I had six boys in my ward old enough to be ordained elders. I could only recommend five of them, because one of them wasn’t ready. We had talked about it several times, and he had said to me, “I am not worthy.” He felt very bad about it, but he didn’t expect to be recommended to the stake president. His uncle came to me and said, “You are surely not going to hold that boy back with his five friends going forward.” He pled with me to let him go. He said, “You will be driving him out of the Church if you don’t.”

I explained to this man, “The priesthood is the most important thing that we can give this boy. We are not handing the priesthood out on a silver platter. This boy and I understand each other, and he is not ready to be ordained an elder.” And he wasn’t recommended.

A few years later I was attending a general conference right here on this Temple Square, and a young man came up to me and said, “President Tanner, you wouldn’t remember me. I am the boy whom you didn’t recommend to be ordained an elder.” As he put his hand out, he said, “I want to thank you for it. I am a bishop now in California. If you had recommended me when I wasn’t worthy, I possibly never would have appreciated what the priesthood is and what is expected of one, and surely I would never have been a bishop as I am today.”

As soon as the constable took Joseph Smith away, Joseph Knight, Sr., went out and hired two men, a Mr. James Davidson and a Mr. John S. Reid, who were “respectable farmers who were well versed in the laws of their country,” to help Joseph during his trial before Justice Joseph P. Chamberlain.
Newel wrote in his journal:
“On the following day a court was convened for the purpose of investigating the charges which had been made against Joseph Smith, Jun. On account of the many scandalous reports which had been put in circulation, a great excitement prevailed. …
“The trial commenced among a crowded multitude of spectators, who generally seemed to believe Joseph guilty of all that had been alleged against him, and, of course, were zealous to see him punished for his crimes.”
Many witnesses were called up against Joseph Smith, including Josiah Stowell, for whom he had worked, and Mr. Stowell’s daughters, whom Joseph had known socially. Despite many attempts to elicit something from them which could be held against Joseph, all of the witnesses reported that Joseph Smith had dealt with them fairly and kindly.
Joseph Smith was acquitted by the Chenango County court of all charges, and at the very moment he was released, officials from the neighboring Broome County presented another warrant for his arrest.

Dear Reed or Elder May,
I miss you. I miss you very much! I miss you, very, very much! Do I have to call you Elder May, or can I still call you Reed? I’m glad that you got out of the empty sea. I was worried about you drowning or something. When I asked her, Mom laughed and said that you were fine there, but I was still worried.
I have something that I want to tell you. But maybe I’d better not tell you.
Please write a letter just to me.
Love,Brad
Dear Buddy,
I miss you, too—very much! When I think of how much you will grow and change in two years, sometimes it makes me a little sad that I can’t be there with you. But I know that I’m doing the right thing by going on a mission. Besides, the elders here who are almost ready to go home all say that two years zoom by so fast that you can hardly believe it.
To answer your question, yes, you can still call me Reed instead of Elder May. But do I have to start calling you Brad now, or can I still call you Buddy?
Buddy, I have to admit that I was puzzled for a long time about what you meant by the “empty sea.” Then yesterday I told Elder Watts, my companion, that you were worried about me in the empty sea, and all of a sudden it came to me! Where I was, was not the empty sea, but the MTC. That stands for Missionary Training Center. That’s where I learned about being a missionary and how to teach people the gospel.
The MTC was a good experience, but I’m glad to be in the mission field now. The members here are friendly, and some of them help us a lot. We are teaching some great families. Elder Watts is a hard worker, and we spend a lot of hours trying to find people who want to learn about the restoration of the gospel and the Church.
Write to me again soon. I want to keep in touch and know everything that happens to you, kind of like our talks in the dark across the bedroom as we were going to sleep. Only now we will have our talks by writing letters.
And remember, you can tell me anything, just like always.
Love,Reed
Dear Reed,
It was awesome to get my very own letter from you. I’ll keep writing to you, if you’ll keep writing to me. But I still miss you very, very much! Nobody else calls me Buddy, but you can because I will always be your buddy.
Last night was our second grade Spring Sing. Everyone was there but you. Even Grandpa Richards was there, and your girlfriend Kelly. She says that she misses you very much, but I know that she doesn’t miss you as much as I do.
After the Sing we went to get ice-cream cones, and we talked about you. Mom and Dad said that you seem grown-up now. Natalie and Rachel said that they’re proud to be the sisters of a missionary. Scooter didn’t say anything because he’s too young.
I ate two scoops on my cone, one scoop of chocolate and one scoop of your favorite, pralines-and-cream. I did it for you.
I still have something I need to tell you, but I’m still afraid to tell you.
Love,Buddy
Dear Reed,
I know that I just wrote to you yesterday, but I have to write to you again today. If you were home, we could talk about it, but you’re not here.
Last night Melissa came to our house. She brought chocolate chip cookies that she made. She gave me a big hug and said that I look just like a little Reed, like somebody took you and let some of the air out. She’s pretty! Anyway, she says that she misses you very much.
Tell me, Reed, does Melissa know about Kelly? Does Kelly know about Melissa? What am I supposed to do with all your girlfriends? What if they both come over at the same time?
I told Melissa that she should send some chocolate chip cookies to you. I can’t tell you what she said because she wants it to be a surprise. If I can figure out a way to do it, I’ll send you some pralines-and-cream ice cream too.
Maybe next time I’ll tell you my secret problem.
Love,Buddy
(To be continued)

When I first got to know the Church in 2016, it was a strange thing for me to have received the gospel through my two classmates, who today also serve in the same mission as I do. I waited a year to be baptized since my family was Catholic and it was a difficult thing for me, but thanks to prayer, the Lord supported me, and I was baptized in July 2017. I was in fifth grade, and I was the only member of the Church in my family, and in my neighborhood. I had to walk at least nine kilometers every Sunday to attend sacrament meeting, which from the start was difficult for me.
After my baptism, I lost the job that I had, and I began to go through a difficult moment. I applied the advice given in Deuteronomy 31:6, only if I was not afraid, the Lord was going to help me, and with His help I brought one of my best friends to Church who was the second person in my neighborhood to join the Church, and who also serves a mission today in Liberia.
After I graduated, I decided to do a full-time mission, which was difficult as my family initially disagreed, and I decided to apply Alma’s advice in 37:37, and I prayed to the Lord to help me, and I began to prepare for my mission by saving a little money from my odd teaching jobs to fund my mission.
In 2018 when I submitted my mission papers, President Alfred Kyungu of the Democratic Republic of the Congo Mbuji Mayi Mission explained to me the importance of doing a full-time mission and helped me with some advice to get there. I applied his advice, and it took me at least two years to get there and I saw other missionaries leaving on missions. It pained me at times, with everything, the sacrifice of cycling over 68 kilometers to get some documents I needed for my mission with other brothers with whom we were preparing together.
When we had submitted our papers, the COVID-19 pandemic had already started and foreign missionaries were forced to return home, and we were uncertain if we would serve a full-time mission. Two weeks later the prophet declared that we had to close the doors of the meetinghouses and 30 days later I received my call to serve a mission in the Kinshasa East mission with six months of preparation and saw the increase in the number of cases related to COVID-19.
I was still in a state of uncertainty, and I knelt down and asked the Lord if He wanted me to be a full-time missionary as I knew personally that He knew the situation perfectly, and my MTC date was postponed three more weeks. On Oct. 15, 2020 I started my training at Accra Ghana Missionary Training Center through technology and I experienced a most memorable experience of my life, spending the training on Zoom every day for three weeks made my faith grow and increase my trust in the Lord because He knew that He had prepared me to serve Him in this moment of technology in His work to learn the best ways to use technology and to help others to come to Him through this medium.
I am happy to serve Him in this time, I know that our Heavenly Father knows us personally and prepares us with the means to serve Him in his time by the tools He himself prepares to help us get there. Fervent prayer is the only way that can bring us closer to Him and help us prepare to become more like the Savior Jesus Christ.

Not many children serve in a Church calling before they graduate from Primary. But George N.[space]from Uganda was only five years old when he was called to be the chorister in his branch.
The chorister is the person who stands up in front of everybody during sacrament meeting to lead the singing. It’s an important job!
“I used to be very nervous when I was younger,” George says. But even then he always did his best. He improved every week. Before long he was leading the music confidently.
George enjoys serving in his calling. “I feel good,” he says. “I feel like the Spirit is inside the room.”

South Africa, London, Reno, Argentina, Maine …
The names of countries, capitals, cities, and states swirled through Julie’s mind as she watched her geography teacher, Ms. Simmons, pass out tests at the front of the room.
Julie tapped her feet on the floor. It wasn’t that she didn’t like geography—she loved it! But she was nervous about labeling the map. What if she mixed up Spain and France again?
Tate turned around in his chair and handed back a stack of tests. Julie took one and handed the rest to her friend Allie behind her. She drummed her pencil against her lower lip and stared at the paper. It had a big map of the world on it with lots of lines for her to fill in. Where should she even start?
She glanced up. That’s when she noticed that something strange was going on.
One of the boys was hiding a smile and pointing toward the front of the room. Other kids were noticing and starting to whisper.
Julie looked where the boy was pointing. Her heart started to pound.
A map of the world was still taped on the board! Ms. Simmons had forgotten to take it down, and all the answers were right there for everyone to see!
Quickly Julie ducked her head. She didn’t want to look at the map. That would be cheating. But it was suddenly very hard to keep her eyes on her test.
Maybe I can do my best without looking, she thought. And then I’ll just double-check my answers at the end. But no, that would be cheating too.
The longer she sat there, the worse Julie felt. Even if she didn’t look at the map, she wouldn’t feel completely honest if she didn’t tell Ms. Simmons about it.
Holding her breath, Julie slowly raised her hand.
Ms. Simmons walked down the aisle to her desk.
Julie felt like the whole class was glaring at her. Her face turned bright red with embarrassment.
“Yes, Julie?” Ms. Simmons asked. “Do you need something?”
“Ms. Simmons, I think you accidentally left the map on the board,” Julie whispered.
“Oh, dear. Thank you for pointing that out, Julie.” She walked over and took it down.
Julie heard some grumbling around her, but she kept her head down and focused on her test. The tension in the room seemed to melt away. I probably wasn’t the only one who wanted to say something, she thought. It was a lot easier to finish the test without feeling tempted to look at the board.
Julie was glad that she had kept her teacher’s trust. Most important, she knew that Heavenly Father would be happy with her choice to be completely honest. Heavenly Father, she prayed silently, thank Thee for giving me the courage to speak up.

One evening, years ago, my wife and I sat alone together in the playroom of our house. The children were all asleep in their beds, and we were waiting for the birth of a new little baby. My wife, big with child, was sitting by the table. We were talking softly together, knowing that the baby would arrive that night. The lights were low, and there was a feeling of love for each other and for the baby that was to come. I remember looking at my wife—she was rocking quietly, her eyes closed, her pale white hands spread across her full waist. The sweet feeling in the room grew and persisted. It was very powerful. I said to her, “Do you feel this all around us?” and she replied, “Yes.” It was lovely being with her there then. It was a sweet closeness, a unity I can hardly describe.

“Can you tell?” I said. “We shall have a son.”

“I know,” she replied. “It will be a boy.”

And then for me the veil parted, and I saw our son, standing, waiting, a few feet from the chair my wife was rocking in. He was tall and well formed, taller and larger, it seemed to me, than the room allowed. There was power about his person, great power and goodness and patience and love.

I said, “Do you see him there standing beside you?”

Again there swelled that sweet feeling of closeness and unity. She looked at me, confident, a small smile on her lips. “I don’t need to,” she said. “I know he is there.”