Gospel Story Finder

Hironui Johnston, 16, and his sister Merirani, 15, spend a lot of time at the Papeete Tahiti Temple.
They aren’t performing baptisms for the dead, except for a couple times each year. They aren’t even inside the temple. They’re on the temple grounds—not gardening or doing some other service project—just sitting or walking around. But always looking.
“I love to see the temple,” says Merirani. “We have a lot of good memories here.”
Hironui and Merirani go to the temple grounds because of how they feel there. It’s a place where they can get away from the world.
“Our neighborhood isn’t bad, but there are some bad kids there,” says Hironui. “So we spend time here. It feels so good to be on the temple grounds.”
Sometimes their whole family comes, whether for a family home evening activity or just to spend time together.
“Sometimes when we aren’t getting along, we come here to put things right again,” Hironui says. But even when the Johnstons aren’t at the temple, the temple is part of their lives.
“I think we have a picture of the temple in every room in our house,” Hironui says. “It’s beautiful. It reminds us that our family can be together forever. Seeing it helps us feel the same peaceful spirit.”
“We watch our parents go to the temple,” says Hironui. “We see them living worthy to go. We see how their temple attendance blesses us, and we choose to follow them.”
That love for the temple, which began with the Johnstons’ parents, has been passed on to Hironui and Merirani. And it won’t end there. Their actions can pass it on to the next generation.
“I want to have children someday,” says Merirani. “I want to teach them that the temple is the house of the Lord and that if we are faithful we can be together forever because of the temple.”
“The blessings of the temple go both ways. This generation is being blessed today. As they grow and do the work for their ancestors, those blessings reach into the past. And as this generation begins raising the next, those blessings will roll on into the future.
“The Lord has given us a real blessing by building His house in our land,” Merirani says. “But the greatest blessing is that through the ordinances of the temple, our ancestors and families can be sealed together, and we can all live with our Father again. I would do anything for that blessing.”

In 1832, two years after the Church was organized, two missionaries went out into the New York area to preach the gospel. A man by the name of John Tanner, who was a very influential man in that district—community-minded and religious—heard that they were coming and that they were going to hold a meeting in the schoolhouse in his town that night. He was determined that they would not preach any false doctrine in his community, so he attended this meeting to keep them straight. Because he had been crippled for many months, he had to be wheeled to the meeting in a wheelchair, and he had his son wheel him right up in front of the pulpit so that he could look the missionaries in the face and correct them if they began to teach any false doctrine.
One of the elders told about the great apostasy and how the Church was reestablished. And then the other elder got up and told about the translation of the Book of Mormon and the doctrines taught therein and then bore his testimony.
John Tanner didn’t interrupt either one of them while they were speaking, but when they finished he said to his son, “I would like to meet those young men.” His son went up, brought the young men down, and introduced his father to them.
The father asked them if they would like to come and stay with him that night. Being good missionaries, they accepted his invitation and went home to stay with him that night. They talked about the gospel, and he asked them questions until the early hours of the morning. He became so interested in the gospel that he said, “If I were able, I think I would like to apply for baptism.”
One of the elders asked, “Do you think that the Lord could heal you?” He answered, “The Lord could if he wanted to.” And the elder said, “Would you like us to administer to you, give you a blessing?” He said he would, and the elders administered to him. That very day he left his wheelchair, never to return to it, and walked four miles to be baptized.
I have often thanked my Heavenly Father that those two missionaries went out and preached the gospel to John Tanner and that he had the courage when he heard the truth to accept it, even though he knew he would be ostracized in the community if he joined the Church.
Some years later he learned that the Church was in financial difficulty. Since he was well-fixed financially, he sold everything he had and gave it to President Joseph Smith to help meet the obligations. He remained true to the faith.
I am so thankful that his son remained true to the faith, and his son remained true to the faith, and his son, who was my father, remained true to the faith. And as a result I am here as a member of the Church today in the position I hold.

I recently had the opportunity of attending Especially for Youth. Youth from all over the country gathered together for a fun and spiritually uplifting youth conference. My personal favorite activity was the service project. At that time, something happened to me that definitely changed me for the better.
On Wednesday, my group sat on the lawn, anticipating what activity was in store for us. We tried to guess what the counselors had planned. My group looked up to see one of our counselors holding the hand of a young person who was clumsily skipping toward us. As they got closer, we realized that our counselor was holding the hand of a young boy with Down’s syndrome. A contagious smile stretched across the boy’s face, letting us know that he was excited to be with us. We immediately noticed a name tag, Hello! My name is Mike. We were asked to play games with Mike and have a good time. The boys in the group asked Mike what his favorite game was. “Kickball!” he shouted, so we gathered some bases and a ball and began to play.
While waiting in line to kick, I was approached by the director of my EFY session, Brother Buckner. We started talking and laughing. I told him that Mike was extremely polite and fun to be around. I also mentioned how much I loved doing service for others and how great it made me feel.
Brother Buckner smiled, then asked, “Have you ever met anyone guaranteed to be in the celestial kingdom?”
Puzzled, I replied, “You mean Mike?”
With a slight nod of his head, he responded by saying, “Yes, so who is serving whom?”
His question surprised me, and I began to think. I realized that, since we are not from the same place, the next time I would see Mike he will most likely be in perfect form without flaw. His constant smile made me think that somewhere inside of him, he knows it too. I also realized that Mike taught me more about life and how to enjoy it in 30 minutes than I had learned in my previous 16 years.
I think of Mike every day, and I thank Heavenly Father for allowing me to have the opportunity to meet him and learn from him.

Shortly after the NCAA finals, Britton announced his decision to serve a mission. The decision came at no small sacrifice. Many people, including Utah head coach Rick Majerus, say Britton has tremendous NBA potential, but leaving the game for two years may jeopardize his pro chances. “Coach was saying everything he could to get me to stay,” recalls Britton. “I’ve been told that if I stay for all four years in a row, I’d definitely go pro.”

For the first time in his life, Britton began to question whether he should go on a mission. Majerus told the press that if Britton were to go after being benched all year, “his pro chances are null and void and his chance for a college career is really in peril. He can’t sit three years.”

In the end, Britton’s coach supported his decision. “It is with regret and sadness from a basketball standpoint that Britton departs, but I am pleased because he seems to be so at peace and happy about the decision,” said Majerus. “I’m proud to be a coach of so many young men who felt so good about a religious experience that they would want to sacrifice their basketball.”

I was really touched by the second one I watched: “Dare to Stand Alone,” with a story from President Thomas S. Monson.
In this short clip, President Monson described his experience at Navy boot camp. On his first Sunday afternoon there, the chief petty officer directed them where to attend their churches. He sent the Catholics to one building, the Jews to another, and the Protestants to yet another. President Monson didn’t know where to go, since he was not any of those religions, so he just stood his ground feeling completely alone. “Courageous and determined, yes—but alone,” he said.
The officer came up to him and asked, “And just what do you guys call yourselves?” It wasn’t until then that President Monson realized there were other men behind him. Almost in unison they said, “Mormons, sir!”

Lynda tried to incorporate the values of the people she admired into her new life in creative ways. Preserving food became for her a symbol of self-sufficiency, so when she couldn’t get fresh fruits and vegetables in the city, she made a list of all the things she remembered her mother and grandmothers putting into bottles and made quilt blocks representing many of those things. As she stitched, Lynda created a tribute to her pioneer ancestors and a family history for her children to enjoy. She also taught her family independence, hard work, self-reliance, the law of the harvest, and self-confidence in a new environment.

A brother from St. Anthony, Idaho, and other leaders in that area saw the terrible devastation suffered by the people of south Florida as the account appeared on television. They felt a compelling need to do something to help those who had been stricken. A decision was soon made to send an eighteen-wheeler filled with Idaho potatoes to Florida. The truck was loaded with boxes and sacks of potatoes and moved swiftly across the country to the site of the disaster.
The potatoes arrived in excellent condition. The missionaries unloaded the potatoes and soon divided them. It was amazing how welcome the potatoes were to the people of south Florida. They were so tired of eating fast foods that the potatoes were described as tasting almost like a dessert. In less than three days, all of the potatoes were distributed to members and nonmembers alike. Hearts were tender, stomachs warmed by the kindness of those marvelous members in Idaho who had sent the potatoes.

During the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic, Brother Wisan from Thailand felt prompted to share his feelings and impressions of what he was learning in his study of the Book of Mormon on his social media account. In one of his particularly personal posts, he shared a story of two Book of Mormon missionaries, Alma and Amulek.

His brother, Winai, although set in his religious beliefs, was touched by the post and responded, unexpectedly asking, “Can I get that book in Thai?”

Wisan wisely arranged for a copy of the Book of Mormon to be delivered by two sister missionaries, who began teaching his brother.

Wisan joined in virtual lessons, during which he shared his feelings about the Book of Mormon. Winai learned to pray and study with a truth-seeking spirit, to accept and embrace the truth. Within months, Winai was baptized!

Wisan later said, “We have a responsibility to be an instrument in the hands of God, and we must be always ready for Him to do His work in His way through us.” Their family miracle came because Wisan simply shared the gospel in a normal and natural way.

At Christmas time Cynthia, Richard, Gerald, Mom, and Dad went to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. The children helped set up the stable like the one where Baby Jesus was born, sang Christmas carols, and opened presents.
A few days after Christmas Dad said, “It’s time to go home.”
Grandpa and Grandma looked sad.
“Mommy,” Cynthia said, “why are Grandma and Grandpa so sad?”
“Because they will miss us when we go home.”
Cynthia went to find Grandma, who was helping Gerald pack his clothes.
“Grandma,” Cynthia said, “will you be happy if I leave some of my toys? You can play with them till we come back.”
“Thank you, honey,” said Grandma, “I will miss you, not your toys.” She gave Cynthia a big hug.
Cynthia wondered how she could help Grandma and Grandpa be happy. Suddenly she remembered how happy Dad was when Mom put notes in his lunch sack. She ran and whispered to Gerald and Richard and gave them each some pieces of paper. Richard sat on the floor and wrote and wrote and wrote. Gerald drew pictures because he was too little to write.
“Mommy,” said Cynthia, “how do you spell love?”
“L-o-v-e,” Mom told her.
When Cynthia finished writing, she tiptoed into the living room. She hid one of her notes on Grandpa’s chair. She put another note in the piano bench. She even put two in Grandma’s slippers under the couch. Then she tiptoed quietly out.
Richard waited in the hall until Grandpa left the kitchen. Then he scurried in and put one note in the cracker box, one on top of the forks, and one in an apron pocket. He also put notes in the refrigerator and the pantry.
Meanwhile, Gerald was in Grandma and Grandpa’s bedroom. He put all his picture-notes under their pillows for them to find when they went to bed.
Soon Dad and Mom were bundling them into their coats. “Kiss Grandma and Grandpa good-bye and get in the car!” said Dad.
Grandpa kept saying, “I’m going to miss all of you. I’m really going to miss you!” He looked like he was already missing them, and they hadn’t even gone yet!
Grandma kissed all the kids and Mom and Dad too. “Remember to write me,” she told them.
Cynthia, Richard, and Gerald started to giggle.
“What’s so funny?” asked Grandma.
“You’ll see,” Cynthia told her, grinning from ear to ear. “We left love notes for you all over the house.”

In the 1960s, during the Vietnam War, Church member Jay Hess, an airman, was shot down over North Vietnam. For two years his family had no idea whether he was dead or alive. His captors in Hanoi eventually allowed him to write home but limited his message to less than 25 words. What would you and I say to our families if we were in the same situation—not having seen them for over two years and not knowing if we would ever see them again? Wanting to provide something his family could recognize as having come from him and also wanting to give them valuable counsel, Brother Hess wrote—and I quote: “These things are important: temple marriage, mission, college. Press on, set goals, write history, take pictures twice a year.”

Illustrations by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Wow! Fried chicken!
And mashed potatoes and gravy! And apple pie! When do we eat?
It’s not for us. We’re making dinner for Brother Albertson.
Why is the good stuff always for somebody else?
Yeah, aren’t you forgetting about us?
Of course not. But Sister Albertson passed away yesterday, and Brother Albertson feels terribly sad and lonely.
He may not even feel like eating, but we want him to know that we care. And maybe a hot meal will comfort him just a teeny little bit. What do you think?
I want to help cook!
Me too!
Wonderful! How about whipping up your famous Matt and Mandy salad?

Most people find that serving in the Church’s youth programme is rewarding, uplifting, exciting and full of surprises. One family’s surprise came when they realised that six of them were serving in the Young Women’s organisation at the same time.
Carole Fullwood (nee Sayers) was thrilled to be called as Exeter Ward’s Young Women president. At the same time, one of her daughters, Kimberley Fullwood, was serving as the Plymouth Stake’s Young Women president.
Carole says, “Imagine my delight when my eldest daughter, Holly Fullwood-Chalkley, also announced that she had been called as Chorley 1st Ward’s Young Women president, meaning we could share ideas and experiences.”
Debbie continues, “Carole and I were talking about our Church responsibilities. She told me of hers and her daughter’s callings. I was amazed as my daughter, Esther Wall, is Liverpool Stake’s Young Women president, while I am currently serving as a Young Women counsellor to Ruth Fullwood, also my daughter, who is the president of Young Women in Southport Ward!”
Carole finishes, “‘When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God (Mosiah 2:17).’ It’s exciting to see our children accepting opportunities to serve and realising they have the same enthusiasm as we do for our callings. The greatest reward is the happiness felt when we serve.”

During this past summer, over 200,000 of our young people all over the world grew in faith at one of the hundreds of weeklong sessions of For the Strength of Youth, or FSY, conferences. Coming out of pandemic isolation, for many it was an act of faith in the Lord to even attend. Many of the young participants seem to follow a similar upward arc toward deeper conversion. At the end of their week, I liked to ask them, “So, how’s it been?”
They sometimes said something like this: “Well, on Monday I was so annoyed with my mother because she made me come and do this. And I didn’t know anybody. And I didn’t think it was for me. And I wouldn’t have any friends. … But now it’s Friday, and I just want to stay here. I just want to feel the Spirit in my life. I want to live like this.”

I want to talk to you young men about this priesthood and tell you a story or two from our family experience. Several years ago our sons would spend their time during the summer on their grandfather’s ranch. Twelve years ago one of our sons had a horse. It had been given to him when it was born. It had been running with a wild herd of horses on the ranch. It was now two years old, time that it could be broken to ride. Early one summer we went to the ranch. It took all day to get the horses into the corral. Finally we had my son’s horse in a chute and put a heavy halter on it. We put a big rope on it and tied it to a big post. “Now the horse must stay there for two or three days,” I told him, “until it quits fighting the rope, until it settles down.” We worked with it during the morning, and then we went in to eat. He hurried with his meal and then went out to his horse. He was 14. He loved that horse.
Just as we finished the meal, I heard a noise, and I heard him shout. I knew what had happened. He had untied the horse. I had told him not to, but he was going to work with it. In order to hold the horse, he had wrapped the rope around his wrist. As I came out the door, I saw that horse run by. My son was running after it with great big steps, pulled by the horse; and then he fell. If the horse had turned right, it would have gone out the gate into the mountains. It turned left and was cornered by two fences. While it was trying to find its way out, I got the rope off my boy’s wrist and the end of the rope around the post. He was bruised but not badly hurt.
In a little while we had the horse tied up again, and we sat down for a father and son lesson. I said to him this: “My boy, if you are ever going to control that horse, you will have to use something besides your muscles. The horse is bigger than you are; it is stronger than you are. Someday you can ride that horse, but it will have to be trained. You cannot train it with your muscles. It is bigger than you are; it is stronger than you are; and it is wild.”
Two years later we went to the ranch in the spring. This horse had been running all winter with the herd. We went to find it. We found the herd of horses down by the river. I knew if we went too close, they would run. So this boy and his sister took a bucket with some oats and walked quietly to the edge of the meadow. The horses began to move away slowly. Then he whistled, and his horse came out of the herd and trotted up to my boy. We had learned a great lesson. Much had happened in those two years. He had used more than his muscles.
After that near accident had happened, he was frightened. He had disobeyed. And he said, “Dad, what should we do?” And I said, “This is the way we will do it. And one day that horse will run up to you.” He had been prepared and had learned a great lesson.

Besides working on fellowshipping, the youth spend a lot of time doing missionary work. The full-time missionaries in Dauphin started teaching Sherry Sinclair the discussions. “She didn’t really want to come to church, but she came one time,” says Kirsten. “Kayleen and I said, ‘Hey! Another person! This is great!’ So we got to know her, and she’s a really cool person. She and I just connected, and we’re awesome friends now.”
Kayleen says, “We tried to welcome her. It’s not very often that we get new people, so it was exciting for us. We tried the best we could to make her feel comfortable and encourage her.” Sherry joined the Church last year.

In the beautiful hills of Pennsylvania, a devout group of Christian people live a simple life without automobiles, electricity, or modern machinery. They work hard and live quiet, peaceful lives separate from the world. Most of their food comes from their own farms. The women sew and knit and weave their clothing, which is modest and plain. They are known as the Amish people.
A 32-year-old milk truck driver lived with his family in their Nickel Mines community. He was not Amish, but his pickup route took him to many Amish dairy farms, where he became known as the quiet milkman. Last October he suddenly lost all reason and control. In his tormented mind he blamed God for the death of his first child and some unsubstantiated memories. He stormed into the Amish school without any provocation, released the boys and adults, and tied up the 10 girls. He shot the girls, killing five and wounding five. Then he took his own life.
This shocking violence caused great anguish among the Amish but no anger. There was hurt but no hate. Their forgiveness was immediate. Collectively they began to reach out to the milkman’s suffering family. As the milkman’s family gathered in his home the day after the shootings, an Amish neighbor came over, wrapped his arms around the father of the dead gunman, and said, “We will forgive you.” Amish leaders visited the milkman’s wife and children to extend their sympathy, their forgiveness, their help, and their love. About half of the mourners at the milkman’s funeral were Amish. In turn, the Amish invited the milkman’s family to attend the funeral services of the girls who had been killed. A remarkable peace settled on the Amish as their faith sustained them during this crisis.
One local resident very eloquently summed up the aftermath of this tragedy when he said, “We were all speaking the same language, and not just English, but a language of caring, a language of community, [and] a language of service. And, yes, a language of forgiveness.” It was an amazing outpouring of their complete faith in the Lord’s teachings in the Sermon on the Mount: “Do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you.”
The family of the milkman who killed the five girls released the following statement to the public:
“To our Amish friends, neighbors, and local community:
“Our family wants each of you to know that we are overwhelmed by the forgiveness, grace, and mercy that you’ve extended to us. Your love for our family has helped to provide the healing we so desperately need. The prayers, flowers, cards, and gifts you’ve given have touched our hearts in a way no words can describe. Your compassion has reached beyond our family, beyond our community, and is changing our world, and for this we sincerely thank you.
“Please know that our hearts have been broken by all that has happened. We are filled with sorrow for all of our Amish neighbors whom we have loved and continue to love. We know that there are many hard days ahead for all the families who lost loved ones, and so we will continue to put our hope and trust in the God of all comfort, as we all seek to rebuild our lives.”
How could the whole Amish group manifest such an expression of forgiveness? It was because of their faith in God and trust in His word, which is part of their inner beings. They see themselves as disciples of Christ and want to follow His example.
Hearing of this tragedy, many people sent money to the Amish to pay for the health care of the five surviving girls and for the burial expenses of the five who were killed. As a further demonstration of their discipleship, the Amish decided to share some of the money with the widow of the milkman and her three children because they too were victims of this terrible tragedy.

Another gospel first the youth recently experienced was the opportunity to attend their district’s first seminary graduation ceremony. Three Malaysian youth—Kelvin Anand Kumar, Aun Luck Tan Ernest, and Hamish Steven Parsons—earned seminary diplomas.

Kelvin, who was baptized in 1999, attended seminary during the first four years he was a member of the Church. He says the knowledge he gained there increased his testimony. “I am glad I graduated from seminary,” he says. “Seminary helped me to make correct decisions and plan my education. Because of the things I learned in seminary, I know someday I will marry in the temple.”

There is a hammock in our backyard. After treatments I sit in that hammock most of the day just feeling sorry for myself. I look up at the trees and think, lucky trees. Trees don’t get cancer. I look up at the birds. Lucky birds. They can just fly away from their problems. I wish I could fly away.
On one of those days after I’d been sitting on the hammock crying and feeling sorry for myself, I went into my house and watched television. The Jerry Lewis Telethon was on. The parents of children who had multiple sclerosis were telling what it is like to have a child with the disease. Most of them talked of the hope they had for a cure for their child’s condition. One woman, however, said she didn’t have any hope that her child would even live much longer, but she said that she was going to love her child as much as she could as long as she could. She also said that her family had grown tremendously from the experience. They’d learned not to let sorrow drown out their happiness.
I was so mad at myself. I was bitter. I had so much to be thankful for, and I was wasting so much of my precious time. That little boy seemed so happy. He was smiling, and his parents also seemed happy. I’m sure they felt pain because they knew they were going to lose their son, but they weren’t letting that get in their way. They were making the most of every minute they had with him.
I realized then that it doesn’t matter how much time I have left. What is really important is what I do with what I have. I decided to fight to the end.

Elder Cornish told about a time he was very tired and discouraged while learning to be a doctor. He started crying and wondered if he could ever be a good doctor. Just then, one of the senior doctors asked how he was doing. Elder Cornish told him how he was feeling. The doctor said that he was proud of him and believed he would be an excellent doctor one day. The doctor believed in him even when Elder Cornish didn’t believe in himself. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ always believe in us and don’t want us to give up!

Illustration by Emily Call
Ever since I was a young boy, I wanted to serve a mission. But in my second year of high school, I started to experience numbness in my feet, knees, and arms. Within weeks, I couldn’t walk, run, or climb stairs.
I started on some medications, thinking it would solve the problem quickly so I could go back to school and prepare for my mission. But instead, I kept getting worse. Soon I couldn’t do anything on my own—I couldn’t brush my hair or even stand up to pick up a TV remote.
I received multiple priesthood blessings, but the disease would not leave me alone. I was admitted to a hospital in Accra where experienced doctors worked on me, but they couldn’t figure out what was wrong. I started to think I would never walk again, much less serve a mission.
While I was in the hospital, the mission president and his wife came to visit me and my mum. He asked me if I would like to serve a mission. I told him I had wanted to, before I got sick. He said, “Don’t worry, you will serve a mission.”
The day after we got home from the hospital, I was sitting with my mum when I heard a voice tell me to stand up and walk. I was scared of falling, but I knew I had to try. I stood up on my own. Slowly, I was able to take my first step, which boosted my confidence. I continued taking additional steps. Even though I was shaky at first, I knew that because of my faith in Jesus Christ and the priesthood blessings I had received, I would be able to serve a mission now.
I went back to school, and immediately after finishing, I submitted my mission papers. I received my call some months later to serve in the Nigeria Lagos Mission. Serving the Lord and teaching His children about the restored gospel gave me so much joy. Though not everyone is healed like I was, I know the Lord will bless anyone, according to His will, when we have faith in Him.
The author lives in Ghana.