Gospel Story Finder

My Uncle Mons Andersen had said to us that we must go to his folks in Lehi. That same evening a fisherman was going past Lehi and said he could take two of us. So Mother and my brother Mathias went with him. Then someone would come after the rest of us. The train could not take us there for the track was then only laid to the Point of the Mountain. So the rest of us stayed in the tithing yard till the next day. All that day no one came. But the next day, July 20, 1872, a man by the name of Mathias Petersen from Lehi came for us in a brand-new wagon. Happy were we. We came as far as this side of Sandy and stopped overnight. The next day, this being Sunday morning, July 21, 1872, we arrived in Lehi.

Now I must say a little about Sunday, July 21, 1872. As I said before, we camped overnight on the state road this side of Sandy. It was a beautiful morning, and time came for us to have something to eat before starting. There were five of us in all, and we had some baked wheat bread. There was a farmhouse some distance away, so Mathias Petersen, our driver, went over there to see if he could get some milk to go with the bread. He soon came back and a lady with him with a pan full of sweet milk. It was my first night camping out and my first meal of wheat bread and sweet milk. I shall never forget how good it tasted to me. I was overjoyed. Oh, how good I thought that lady was to bring us that good milk! I don’t know if she was a Mormon or not. But at that time I thought all the people in Utah were Mormons so, of course, I thought she was. So it was another step to me to gain a little better feeling for Mormonism.

My faith impacted my work life as well. One time, a supplier of goods to my employer walked into my office and told me he had brought a “small gift” for me in appreciation for the purchases his company had received that year. I was then in charge of the purchasing department for all consumable supplies. I asked him if any of my staff had solicited the “small gift” from him. He said no one had done so but it was standard practice in other companies he dealt with. I asked him to convert the value of his “small gift” into additional goods and deliver them free of charge to the company store the following day. He was visibly shocked by this response but went away and complied.

At times in my life, I’ve struggled with feeling alone. Sometimes I’ve felt like I wasn’t important or needed. I’ve felt that even my closest friends and family didn’t fully understand what I was going through.
But when I went to an FSY conference, I felt comfort and peace from the Holy Ghost. This helped me know who I truly was and that the gospel is true. I started to look towards Christ and trust in Him and His Atonement. I realized that He knew me and understood what I felt. My perspective has changed, and now I’m trying to help others come unto Him.
Jacob C., Utah, USA

I’m the only priest in my ward, so I bless the sacrament every week. I was a little nervous the first time because everyone’s attention was on me. But I practiced and prayed that God would help me not feel so nervous.

My mom has made big changes too. A year ago she made a commitment to become temple worthy. She quit smoking and drinking and started paying tithing. I can’t say all our financial problems have been solved, but the bills have always been paid. My mom and I have become great friends, and now she’s my seminary teacher too. She went to the temple last summer. Last year she developed a life-threatening illness, and she’s had a long, slow recovery. It was scary and hard on us both, but the elders gave her a blessing, and we pulled through it together.
The changes that have come over me, my mother, and my brother didn’t come easily. But they have definitely been worth it. My mom still cries sometimes, but now it’s because she’s so happy. And I’m happy too.

One evening while serving as full-time missionaries in Nigeria, my companion and I made plans to visit some of our former investigators. We were filled with the Spirit as we walked down the street. We sang some hymns softly, and I said a prayer in my heart that the Lord would help touch the hearts of these people so they could continue investigating the Church.
Our first attempt was very discouraging, and we wanted to quit. But we summoned our courage and stopped at the home of a family who had been investigating the Church. Unfortunately, nobody was at the house. A neighbor told us that the family was away traveling, and no one knew how long they would be gone. All we could do was stick a note on their door, telling them how much we loved and cared for their family.
A few days later we stopped by the house again and found our note still stuck to the door. We put up another and went on our way. Some days later we found our notes were still there, so we put up another, making three in all. Over the next few weeks we passed the house frequently. We left no more notes, but we prayed for the family.
Some weeks later, to our astonishment, this family attended church. They told us how they wept for joy when they saw our notes at the very time they needed them most. They said our little notes are among their most cherished possessions.
From that experience I learned that with one success, a thousand failures are forgotten and that hearts can be changed by our acts of love and kindness.

Like many others, Kaden G., 17, started singing at the care center when a friend invited him to join in. “At first I thought, ‘I’ll do it because it’s service,’” he says. “But I found it builds your testimony to sing the hymns. Hymns invite the Spirit. They have a huge influence on people.”

President Henry B. Eyring, First Counselor in the First Presidency, told of witnessing a tribute to President Monson on “a country road in the deserts of Arizona” where President Monson stopped to shake hands with a couple and their small children, but ended up patiently greeting many more who appeared.
President Eyring said he has witnessed President Monson “going for the Lord to people,” usually including children, in settings across the world. “Not only were those he greeted given a golden moment, but so were those of us who saw it happen,” he said. “I am not the same, nor is any of the participants, because having felt that love, we are changed.”

Masha’s mother, Ludmila, works long hours Monday through Saturday in a shop downtown. She recently got this new job so she doesn’t have to work on Sundays. Ever since her baptism three years ago, she has been Relief Society president. Masha is learning a lot from her about service.

“When we find out somebody needs help,” says Sister Zemskova, “all the sisters in the branch help as much as they can.” One young mother whose husband has to work on Sundays found it difficult to get her two baby girls to church on her own. On many Sunday mornings, Masha and her mother help her get the children ready and to church. Masha plays with the babies at times so their mother can rest.

Caroline often makes her loud “AAH” sounds at church. When she is especially loud, my wife or a kind ward member or I will take her out to the foyer, where we push Caroline around in her wheelchair, calming her with the movement.
One Sunday a few years ago, I came to church pushing an especially sad Caroline, thinking we might only stay for the sacrament. As I walked the foyer and Caroline remained sad, I began to wonder if we would even make it until the sacrament. All my efforts to comfort her seemed fruitless.
But then the sacrament hymn began. I put my face close to Caroline’s and sang. She quieted and listened. The hymn was “Reverently and Meekly Now,” which was written as if the Savior were singing. Admittedly, I was focused on Caroline and not on the hymn—until we came to the fourth verse, when I found myself singing these words to my daughter:
I have loved thee as thy friend,
With a love that cannot end.3
I looked into Caroline’s big blue eyes and felt deeply the tender, personal truth of those words. Jesus Christ, the Redeemer of the world, loves Caroline with a boundless love. When she is sad or hurting, when her parents are clueless and incapable of comforting her, there is One who is her Everlasting Friend, who knows how she feels and how to succor her.
I felt the Spirit in the foyer that day, and I was impressed with this thought: The gospel is still true in the foyer.

The story is told that on one occasion, a traveler asked a farmer who was seated in the doorway of his humble cabin, “How’s the cotton crop going to be this year?”
The farmer replied, “There won’t be any. I didn’t bother to plant it because I was afraid of the boll weevil.”
Upon hearing this, the traveler asked further, “Well, are you going to harvest a big corn crop?”
“It’s the same,” came the response. “I was afraid we wouldn’t get enough rain for the kernels to mature.”
The traveler pursued, “At least you will have a good potato harvest!”
“Nope. Not any; I didn’t dare plant them because I was afraid of insects.”
With frustration, and somewhat impatiently, the traveler then asked, “Well, what is it that you have planted?”
“Nothing, my good man,” came the answer. “I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“The missionary work of the Church is a panorama of more than a century of service and privations and hardships and sacrifices. The closer one is to the program, the more completely one can understand and appreciate it. When my grandfather Heber C. Kimball left for his mission, he and Brigham Young left their families destitute and ill and they themselves needed help to get into the carriage which took them from their homes. As they started off they raised themselves … and waved back to their weeping wives and children. Thousands of people came into the Church as a result of those missions, and tens of thousands have been benefited indirectly and are now enjoying the blessings of the gospel because of those sacrifices. To one who did not understand, such devotion and sacrifice on the part of those men would have been considered foolhardy and silly. But to the Young and Kimball families it was a mark of great faith. And to the thousands who will, through the eternities, call the names of those missionaries blessed, the privations and sacrifice were not wasted.”—President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985), The Teachings of Spencer W. Kimball, ed. Edward L. Kimball (1982), 253.

The gift of time. When I read about the challenge, I immediately made the excuse that I was too busy to even attempt it. When I later began reading, I constantly reminded myself that if I didn’t finish, I could always say I was just too busy. But something amazing happened. On the days I read, time seemed to stand still and allow me the chance to get everything accomplished. This blessing was the remedy to my busy life. I was able to spend more time with my family and on my Church calling, while still being able to accomplish all I needed to in my job. I realized that Heavenly Father will provide what is necessary if I put Him first. Julie Major, Nibley, Utah, USA

With the birth of each of their four children, Richard and Jennifer Fisher have felt an intense responsibility to rear them in righteousness and help them return to their heavenly parents. To see one of those children surrender his life to drugs and alcohol has been almost more than they can bear. The heartache, they say, is indescribable.
“There’s such an overwhelming feeling of failure,” says Sister Fisher. “I review every day from the time he was born and ask myself what happened. What did we do wrong? What did we do differently with him than with the other children? And of course we can’t find any answers.
“I have felt a sense of failure to the Church family, too, not just to my own. At first I felt unworthy to serve in my Church calling and I asked to be released. When something appears in the paper about my son’s problems with the law, I think, how can I be an effective missionary?”
Those words describe the darkest periods of Sister Fisher’s struggle, intervals that recur less often now that her son has largely withdrawn from cocaine and other drugs, though he continues to use alcohol. The intensity of her distress also has diminished as she has learned not to blame herself but to see her son as a child of God with divine agency. He himself has reassured her many times that his choices are his own and that she was, indeed, a good and loving mother.
The Fishers found they could draw on their ward’s love and fellowship without reserve. “I told the ward in testimony meeting that I needed the ward members to join in prayer for my son, and I got a tremendous response. They have written notes and have made extra effort to speak to Jason when he attends church.”
Jason himself says he considered suicide but didn’t proceed with it because he knew of the love that others had for him. He has told his parents that their prayers and those of ward members protected him and that his life was spared because of it.
For Sister Fisher, the fruits of her faith have not yet fully materialized, and she realizes her son may never turn entirely away from his chosen way of living. Still, she refuses to give up.
“I will never cease to have hope. Never.”

From 1846 until 1869, when the railroad came to Utah, many members of the Church traveled across the plains to the Salt Lake Valley. They came by wagons and on foot. From 1856 to 1860, many pushed or pulled small handcarts with their worldly possessions packed inside. The trip was hard and long, and the Saints who made it to the valley arrived tired, sick, and hungry. Some turned back, and, unfortunately, many died along the way.
In the general conference of October 1856, word came to Salt Lake City of the plight of the Willie and Martin handcart companies. They had started out late and had been struck by an early winter storm in the plains of Wyoming. President Brigham Young adjourned the conference and called able-bodied men to quickly gather supplies and organize a rescue party. Among the many valiant men who rode out of Salt Lake City to help the stranded Saints were young men by the names of C. Allen Huntington, George W. Grant, David P. Kimball, and Stephen W. Taylor. When they left, they could not have known what would be required of them or what contribution they would make to the building of the kingdom.
Arriving at the banks of the ice-filled Sweetwater River, the rescuers found the handcart companies bogged down in snow 46 centimeters deep. Men, women, and children among the group were too weak to cross the river. Their energy was spent; their strength was gone; and no doubt they felt the effects of frostbite, hypothermia, and extreme fatigue.
It was then that these strong young men made a sacrifice that few are ever called upon to make. They waded into the stream time and time again, carrying members of the company across the icy stream. Back and forth they crossed until every member was safe on the other side and on their way to shelter and finally into the Salt Lake Valley. These young men, by then cold, wet, and suffering themselves, joined the ranks of the heroes that day. They were not perfect—they were probably regular young men with faults and shortcomings, with their own problems, fears, and weaknesses. But they answered the call of the prophet—they were where the Lord could find them when they were needed to bless the lives of others.

In December 1995 we were sealed as a family in the México City México Temple for this life and for eternity. Now as a family we enjoy harmony, peace, and happiness. We know whom we worship. We know where we came from and where we are going. We love God’s holy word, especially the Book of Mormon, and we love His Church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Through these gifts we have found that well of living water the Savior spoke of to the woman of Samaria: “Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life” (John 4:14).

When I receive the New Era, I open to a random page and start reading. This month I happened to open up to the Mormonad page, “They Are Ten Commandments” (Feb. 2010). I had been trying to get into the “popular” crowd, and that seemed to require not keeping the commandments. When I turned the page, I read the lyrics to the song “Be Strong.” I read the words and knew I had to change what I was doing. I need to be strong to resist the world’s temptations. I know that when we do, God will be with us always.
Alycia S., Arizona

The young people in the Ontario Oregon Stake are influencing people all around them in two different ways.
Many of the LDS teenagers in Ontario are involved in music and get into the spotlight with their talents in this area. The talented young people include Amy Woodfield, a district first-place winner on the flute; Christine Putnam, a district first-place winner on the piano; Wyndi Best, a second-place winner in the alto division at the Oregon State Solo Festival; and Ron Winegar, a percussionist who was invited to play with the John Philip Sousa Honor Band.
Other music makers participate in the Treasure Valley Community College Prime Time Jazz Band, and the college’s choral group, Vocal Express. Through the example of the LDS members of these groups, many of their fellow musicians have been introduced to the Church.
Another way these young people have been able to be examples is through seminary. The seminary program in Ontario recently generated front-page news when it switched from an early-morning schedule to release-time. Because of the publicity, many of their friends have asked these young members about seminary and its influence on their lives.
“Release-time seminary is changing people’s minds,” said Christine Putnam. “Students are curious about it and come in to see for themselves.” Christine has brought several friends to seminary, and one is interested in baptism.
Between music and seminary, these students are calling attention to themselves and are great examples for the Church in Oregon.

I breathed hard as my math teacher talked about our upcoming activity.
“I know most of you young people listen to rap,” he said. “It’s not very good music, and it’s often hard to leave it alone.”
He wanted to show us how bad it was by having the class count the seconds to the first swear word of each song. He explained that after we collected the data we were going to put it into graphs.
“Now, I expect you all to be mature about this,” he lectured. “But if anyone’s uncomfortable or you know your parents wouldn’t approve, you can take your book and go into the hall.”
I gripped my chair. I knew I couldn’t stay here—but I was afraid to move. No one else seemed to be thinking the same thing I was. “I’ll be the only one if I leave,” I told myself.
I rationalized that maybe it would be okay if my teacher stopped the song after the first swear word. I was so petrified to stand up that I lost my chance to leave. The first song came on, and I felt my heart sink as the Spirit disappeared from the room.
The song ended, and its data was written on the board. Before I could think, another song blared curse words through the speakers. I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew that this kind of music drove away the Spirit, and that Heavenly Father didn’t want me listening to it. I picked up my book and asked the teacher if I could leave. As I walked out of the room, the Spirit returned, and I knew I had done the right thing.

Just the same, I was a father trying to raise daughters on my own. I sought to create one-on-one time with both of them to strengthen our relationships. Yet how could I help them prepare to be women? I soon found there were more resources than I imagined:
Neighbors. Good neighbors watched my daughter with their daughter after school until I got home from the office. Other neighbors took my children to school when I had early meetings. One neighbor with a lawn-care business had his crew mow my lawn regularly for free so I could spend more time with my family.