Gospel Story Finder

For as long as I can remember, my father wore a beautiful red ruby ring on his left hand. It was passed on to my only brother. I suppose it will become a tradition in our family—a legacy passed from generation to generation. It will be a good tradition, with sweet memories associated with it.
At the end of my father’s life, he passed much more on to us, his children, than a red ruby ring. His body was spent, but in reality he stood as a pillar of strength, an example of righteousness and truth. His very life held the traditions that strengthen us today, even though he is no longer with us. He was “steadfast, and immovable, willing with all diligence to keep the commandments of the Lord.”

I was riding with a stake president toward Farmington, New Mexico, and the mission president who was riding with us had lived in Ogden, Utah for 12 years with the same experience. I asked him why he hadn’t joined the Church in Ogden. He said no one had ever invited him to.

The young daughter of Donald L. Hallstrom writes in a school paper that she will be with Heavenly Father if she dies.

Most responses to mission calls show great faith in the Lord and desire to build the Church “Not my will but His—in fact, I will try to make His will mine,” wrote O. U. Bean, a schoolteacher trying to raise enough money to attend college and settle his family’s debts. He expressed willingness to forgo everything to serve, stating, “A mission is as good a school as college.”2

Several days later, I spied a woman with a “will work for food” sign. Recognizing my second chance to be charitable, I stopped to talk with her.
“I need gas money,” she told me. “My dad’s in Texas, and if only I can get to him, he can help me out.”
“Gee, I don’t have any cash,” I replied. “How long will you be here?”
“Till noon.”
“I’ll be back by 11:00. I promise.” At 10:45 I was back with a gift certificate for gas. She was nowhere in sight.
“Boy,” I thought, as I walked home, “this is not turning out like I expected.” I kicked a pebble. “Helping the needy is going to be tougher than I thought. Is this something I’m supposed to do later in life?”
I kicked the pebble again. “How can I help the needy? Couldn’t I get started now? Isn’t there someone who needs my help? Isn’t there someone who wants my help?”

My ping-pong match with my friend Erfrey was interrupted by three knocks on his front door. I heard an unfamiliar voice with a strange accent of Hiligaynon, our native dialect.
Erfrey rushed toward the door, apparently expecting them. “Come on!” he said to me. “I want you to meet my friends!”
They were wearing white shirts and ties and had come to teach Erfrey’s younger brother to prepare him for baptism. I spoke to them in English, and they were impressed enough to ask if I would interpret during their discussion with Erfrey’s brother.
I thought my role would just be the passive interpreter. But I became an active participant as their words took root in my heart. I had an unexplainable feeling, a lingering happy feeling I had never experienced before.
After that experience, I asked the missionaries to teach my family. But when they came, my parents took a stand that a Mormon would never have a place in our family.
I wanted to be baptized, so I put my faith to work. I fasted and prayed. I strived to be an example to them.
Two years later, through my own simple faith and the loving support of Heavenly Father, my father’s heart was finally softened and he signed my baptismal consent. I am happy to say that my testimony of the restored gospel is my most prized possession.
Arnel M., Negros Occidental, Philippines

There is a silver-haired Argentine sister who knows the Shepherd. She has given a long life of service to the Lord, his Church, and her fellowmen.
The first time Sister Mellor attended a Mormon church service, she was brought by the missionaries. They felt that she was the most sophisticated, cultured, and best-educated investigator they had ever met. They held a few meetings in her lovely home, and when they invited her to accompany them to a Sunday church meeting, she readily agreed. The service was being held in an old building. The members attending were of somewhat humble circumstances compared to the new investigator.
The service did not go well by the standards of the two missionaries hoping to impress their guest. The branch leaders had just been recently called, and they were still learning their duties. There was some confusion at the pulpit. There was an interruption at the sacrament table at the most sacred moment. The sermons seemed to be less interesting than those desired by the eager missionaries. The reverence was threatened from time to time by children moving or crying. There was no organ to provide deep, religious sounds. The missionaries agonizingly thought of the negative impressions their elegant investigator must be receiving. They knew she normally worshiped in a very fashionable cathedral where everything would have been highly professional and the congregation would have been of the highest stratum of local society.
On the way home, one of the missionaries began to reflect his embarrassment. He explained: “Please excuse our present building. Some day we will build a lovely new chapel.” Then he added: “Please excuse our new leaders. We have a lay priesthood, so we take turns conducting, and the new leaders are still learning how to conduct services.” He was just about to give another excuse when Sister Herta Mellor turned to him and said: “Elder, you don’t need to apologize. It must have been like this at the time of Christ!”
With her spiritual eyes and her knowledge of the Shepherd acquired through studying the holy scriptures, she saw through centuries of tradition. She saw past cathedrals and organs. She saw back through the corridors of time to the Shepherd meeting with his humble fishermen-Apostles, with some sinners, and even with leper outcasts. She saw the early Saints meeting in a small, rented, upstairs room. She saw children, with the Savior smiling at them lovingly. Because she knew the Shepherd, she could say with profound and deep insight, “It must have been like this at the time of Christ.”
She exemplifies to me the admonition which many have followed: “Fill your mind with thoughts of Christ, your heart with love of Christ, and your life with service to Christ.”

Did you see Torah Bright tearing it up at the 2006 Torino Winter Olympics? At 19, she’s one of the world’s leading snowboarders. She’s so well known in the sport that you can actually choose to be Torah in several major snowboarding video games. She’s also a member of the Canberra Australia Stake.

During 2005, Torah took overall women’s first place in the Arctic Challenge in Tromso, Norway. The challenge is one of the most prestigious international snowboarding competitions. She also placed first in four other competitions, second in three others, and third in two more.

The pressures of being an international sports star don’t seem to bother her much. She says that as the people around her have come to know what she stands for and the standards she keeps, they’ve come to respect her.

“I can’t live without the gospel,” says Torah. “It’s the truth. You know who you are, and you know that you are individually important. It gives me purpose in everything I do.”

Primary was over, and 10-year-old Ruben was looking for the missionaries. They were going to walk home with him. Elder Sánchez and Elder Rojas had taught Ruben and his older brother, Diego, the missionary lessons and had baptized and confirmed them. Now Ruben thought of them as his best friends.
Ruben looked through the window of a closed classroom door. There they were! But what were they doing? Their hands were on the head of a man in the ward, and it looked like they were saying a prayer like they had when Ruben was confirmed.
When they came out of the room, he asked the missionaries, “What were you doing?”
“We were giving Brother Mendoza a priesthood blessing,” said Elder Sánchez. “It’s like a special prayer, and it can give comfort, help someone know how to solve a problem, or even heal someone who is sick.”
The next Sunday Ruben looked for the missionaries after church again. “Can you come to my house and give my mamá a blessing?” he asked. “Her back is hurting a lot.”
They all hurried to Ruben’s house. Elder Sánchez and Elder Rojas talked to Ruben’s mamá. She was a member of the Church, but she had not been to church for a long time.
“We understand you are not feeling well, Sister Garcia,” Elder Rojas said.
“My back has been hurting badly for several weeks,” she told them. “I have met with many doctors, but they haven’t been able to help me.”
“Ruben asked us to come and give you a priesthood blessing,” Elder Sánchez said. “Would you like us to do that?”
“Oh, yes, please,” Mamá said.
As the missionaries put their hands on her head and gave her a blessing, tears rolled down Mamá’s cheeks. When they were finished, Ruben hugged her. “I know the blessing will help you,” he told her.
Three days later the missionaries returned to see how Ruben’s mamá was feeling. “I am so happy to see you,” she told them. “The pain in my back started to go away after you gave me the blessing, and now it is completely gone!”
“Heavenly Father healed you, Sister Garcia,” Elder Sánchez said. “And He allowed us to help Him by using our priesthood authority to bless you.”
The next Sunday—and every Sunday after that—Mamá went to church with Ruben and Diego. She knew that the power of the priesthood was real, and so did Ruben.

The fact that Apii is alive is part of the reason her family joined the Church. When she was eight years old, she was desperately ill with asthma. Missionaries gave her a blessing, and she was healed literally moments later. “I was really weak,” says Apii. “I couldn’t do anything. I hadn’t been able to eat or drink. As soon as the missionaries said amen, I was all right. I opened my eyes and asked for something to drink. Everybody sort of laughed because they were so relieved. I concentrated on the blessing. I knew it would make me better. I was about nine years old when we joined the Church.”

Redbird Redbird is an airplane. Its adventures are illustrated with raised pictures. Each part of every object is also shown separately with raised art and braille labels so that a blind child can “see” as well as read it. The simple story of a plane flying through a storm and at first not given permission to land will be enjoyed by both sighted and sightless readers.Patrick Fort4–10 years

President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) dedicated the Manila Philippines Temple in September 1984. The beautiful six-spire building has an exterior of brilliant white ceramic tiles and is surrounded by majestic palm trees and colorful vegetation.
The temple’s open house was held shortly after two hurricanes ravaged the Philippines. Despite the storms, the events went on as planned. On September 3, 1984, a tour for dignitaries was held. On the following day, when the temple opened for public tours, “a beautiful heavenly spectacle was unfurled over the temple,” said Jovencio Ilagan, executive secretary of the temple committee during its construction. “The sun, in all its brilliance, was seen through a corona of varying colors. … At one point, the center spire with the statue of the Angel Moroni was seen at the center of the corona. Almost a hundred people at the temple grounds attest to it. Many were in tears.”1

Born at the outbreak of the First World War, he received only the very basic formal education. That finished when aged fourteen. He understood it would greatly reduce his chances of earning a good living. Frugality however, was bred in him; everything had a use, even when its original purpose was no longer possible. Volunteering for the RAF in World War II, he made full use of discarded parachutes. Silk from the canopies was given to my mother to make baby dresses, while my father wove the cords into table mats. He repaired our shoes and built cupboards and shelves from wood salvaged from demolition sites. He grew our needed fruit and vegetables in a garden, which the local Anglican church allowed him to use in return for growing flowers to decorate their magnificent medieval minster.

When my grandfather James E. Fisher, born in 1865, was set apart for his mission, he was told: “You may have the gift of tongues if necessary, that you shall use the language fluently that is foreign to your mother tongue, that those who listen to you may listen in their own tongue.”
Within a few weeks after his arrival in New Zealand, a Maori boy came running to him and excitedly speaking in Maori said, “Come quickly, my father is ill. He is possessed of an evil spirit.”
Elder Fisher understood every word the boy said. He and his companion quickly followed the boy to his house and found a frightening situation. The man was entirely out of control, screaming, cursing, and leaping high into the air. When the missionaries entered, he shrank away and said in Maori, “You can do nothing. Go away.”
James E. Fisher took hold of the man and said quietly, “Be calm.” The missionaries laid their hands upon his head, blessed him, and commanded the evil spirit, by the authority of the holy priesthood, to depart. The man then thanked them for their assistance.
From that time on, James E. Fisher could understand the Maori language and rapidly learned to speak it fluently. He never lost his ability to speak the language. More than 40 years later, he met some Maori people at general conference in Salt Lake City and carried on a conversation with them easily and fluently in their native tongue.

Some years ago I was called, with my wife, Jacqui, to preside over the Washington Spokane Mission. We arrived in the mission field with a mix of fear and excitement at the responsibility of working with so many remarkable young missionaries. They came from many different backgrounds and quickly became like our own sons and daughters.
Although most were doing wonderfully well, a few were struggling with the high expectations of their calling. I remember one missionary telling me, “President, I just don’t like people.” Several told me they lacked the desire to follow the rather strict missionary rules. I worried and wondered what we could do to change the hearts of those few missionaries who had not yet learned the joy of being obedient.
One day while driving through the beautiful rolling wheat fields on the Washington-Idaho border, I was listening to a recording of the New Testament. As I listened to the familiar account of the rich young man coming to the Savior to ask what he might do to have eternal life, I received an unexpected but profound personal revelation that is now a sacred memory.
After hearing Jesus recite the commandments and the young man reply that he had observed all these since his youth, I listened for the Savior’s gentle correction: “One thing thou lackest: … sell whatsoever thou hast, and … come, … follow me.”1 But to my astonishment, I instead heard six words before that part of the verse that I seemed never to have heard or read before. It was as if they had been added to the scriptures. I marveled at the inspired understanding which then unfolded.
What were these six words that had such a profound effect? Listen to see if you can recognize these seemingly ordinary words, not found in the other Gospel accounts but found only in the Gospel of Mark:
“There came one running … and asked him, Good Master, what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?
“And Jesus said unto him, …
“Thou knowest the commandments, Do not commit adultery, Do not kill, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Defraud not, Honour thy father and mother.
“And he answered … , Master, all these have I observed from my youth.
“Then Jesus beholding him loved him, and said unto him, One thing thou lackest: go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, take up the cross, and follow me.”2
“Then Jesus beholding him loved him.”
As I heard these words, a vivid image filled my mind of our Lord pausing and beholding this young man. Beholding—as in looking deeply and penetratingly into his soul, recognizing his goodness and also his potential, as well as discerning his greatest need.
Then the simple words—Jesus loved him. He felt an overwhelming love and compassion for this good young man, and because of this love and with this love, Jesus asked even more of him. I pictured what it must have felt like for this young man to be enveloped by such love even while being asked to do something so supremely hard as selling all he owned and giving it to the poor.
In that moment, I knew it was not just the hearts of some of our missionaries that needed changing. It was my heart as well. The question no longer was “How does a frustrated mission president get a struggling missionary to behave better?” Instead, the question was “How can I be filled with Christlike love so a missionary can feel the love of God through me and desire to change?” How can I behold him or her in the same way the Lord beheld the rich young man, seeing them for who they really are and who they can become, rather than just for what they are doing or not doing? How can I be more like the Savior?
“Then Jesus beholding him loved him.”
From that time forward, as I sat knee to knee with a young missionary struggling with some aspect of obedience, within my heart I now saw a faithful young man or young woman who had acted on the desire to come on a mission. Then I was able to say with all the feeling like that of a tender parent:3 “Elder or Sister, if I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t care what happens on your mission. But I do love you, and because I love you, I care about who you become. So I invite you to change those things that are hard for you and become who the Lord wants you to be.”
Each time I went to interview missionaries, I first prayed for the gift of charity and that I could see each elder and sister as the Lord sees him or her.
Before zone conferences, as Sister Palmer and I greeted each missionary one by one, I would pause and look deeply into their eyes, beholding them—an interview without words—and then without fail, I was filled with great love for these precious sons and daughters of God.

Nodoka T.

“I was nervous when the counselor asked me to go to stake Young Women camp for the first time,” says Nodoka T. of Okinawa, Japan. “I decided to pray. After my prayer I felt comfortable, so I decided to go.
“From the very first day, I was able to make new friends. The young women were so nice and kind to me; my fear soon disappeared. And I learned to purify water, tie knots, make bandages, perform rescue breathing, and find edible plants!”

By serving others, a cancer patient receives strength and courage to withstand her illness.

One of Martin Harris’s greatest contributions to the Church, for which he should be honored for all time, was his financing the publication of the Book of Mormon. In August 1829 he mortgaged his home and farm to Egbert B. Grandin to secure payment on the printer’s contract. Seven months later, the 5,000 copies of the first printing of the Book of Mormon were completed. Later, when the mortgage note fell due, the home and a portion of the farm were sold for $3,000. In this way, Martin Harris was obedient to the Lord’s revelation:
“Thou shalt not covet thine own property, but impart it freely to the printing of the Book of Mormon. …
“Pay the debt thou hast contracted with the printer. Release thyself from bondage” (D&C 19:26, 35).

Sometimes the pathway to conversion can be long and hard. My brother-in-law was less active in the Church for 50 years. Not until he was in his 60s did he begin to accept the Savior’s invitation to come back. Many helped him along the way. One home teacher sent him a postcard every month for 22 years. But he had to decide he wanted to come back. He had to exercise his agency. He had to take that first step—and then another and another. Now he and his wife have been sealed together, and he is serving in a bishopric.
Recently we showed him the videos that have been developed to help leaders and teachers implement the new learning resources. After watching the videos, my brother-in-law leaned back in his chair and said, somewhat emotionally, “Maybe if I had had that when I was young, I wouldn’t have fallen away.”

Years ago, Elder James O. Mason of the Seventy shared this story with me: “The birth of our sixth child was an unforgettable experience. As I gazed on this beautiful, new daughter in the nursery just moments after her birth, I distinctly heard a voice declare, ‘There will yet be another, and it will be a boy.’ Unwisely, I rushed back to the bedside of my absolutely exhausted wife and told her the good news. It was very bad timing on my part.” Year after year the Masons anticipated the arrival of their seventh child. Three, four, five, six, seven years passed. Finally, after eight years, their seventh child was born—a little boy.