Gospel Story Finder

When I was in junior high, I was honored by the school administration when I was asked to become a member of the student hall patrol. On the days we were assigned to be on hall patrol, we were instructed to bring our lunch to school and eat it together. It was always a special treat, and there was always a lot of competition to see whose mother had prepared the most desirable lunch. Often we traded lunch items among ourselves.
One day when I was assigned to be on hall patrol, I forgot to tell Mother I needed a lunch until I was almost ready to leave for school. An expression of concern came over Mother’s face when I requested a lunch. She told me she had just used up her last loaf of bread for breakfast and would not be baking until that afternoon. All she had in the house to make a lunch was a large sweet roll left over from the previous night’s supper. Mother made delicious sweet rolls. She always arranged them in a pan so there was one large one across the top of the pan and then rows of smaller ones down the length of the pan. Only the large one remained. It was about the size of a loaf of bread in length but, of course, not in thickness. I was embarrassed to take just a sweet roll for lunch when I imagined what the other patrol members would have, but I decided it was better to go with the sweet roll than go without lunch.
When it came time to eat lunch, I went to a far-off corner so I wouldn’t be noticed. When the trading of lunches started, my friends wanted to know what I had. I explained what had happened that morning, and to my dismay, everyone wanted to see the sweet roll. But my friends surprised me—instead of making fun of me, they all wanted to have a piece of the sweet roll! It turned out to be my best lunch trading day of the entire year! The sweet roll I thought would be an embarrassment to me turned out to be the hit of our lunch hour.

When I was a young lawyer in the San Francisco Bay Area, our firm did some legal work for the company that produced the Charlie Brown holiday TV specials. I became a fan of Charles Schulz and his creation—Peanuts, with Charlie Brown, Lucy, Snoopy, and other wonderful characters.
One of my favorite comic strips involved Lucy. As I remember it, Charlie Brown’s baseball team was in an important game—Lucy was playing right field, and a high fly ball was hit to her. The bases were loaded, and it was the last of the ninth inning. If Lucy caught the ball, her team would win. If Lucy dropped the ball, the other team would win.
As could happen only in a comic strip, the entire team surrounded Lucy as the ball came down. Lucy was thinking, “If I catch the ball, I will be the hero; if I don’t, I will be the goat.”
The ball came down, and as her teammates eagerly looked on, Lucy dropped the ball. Charlie Brown threw his glove to the ground in disgust. Lucy then looked at her teammates, put her hands on her hips, and said, “How do you expect me to catch the ball when I am worried about our country’s foreign policy?”
This was one of many fly balls Lucy dropped through the years, and she had a new excuse each time. While always humorous, Lucy’s excuses were rationalizations; they were untrue reasons for her failure to catch the ball.

I was born in Chicago, Illinois, but came to Nauvoo when I was in foster care. I don’t remember much about my life before being in foster care, but I remember not feeling safe. When I went into foster care, I felt safe. I like having the gospel. Some of my friends have been put into some scary situations because they don’t follow our standards. I know that following the commandments keeps me safe.
It was a cool experience finding my family. My mom came to the preschool I went to because she was helping substitute. She played with me, and she told one of the teachers that she wanted to take me home because I was such a cute kid. The teacher said, “She is up for adoption, so maybe!” My mom looked into it and adopted me and my two brothers. It’s cool because I know what it’s like to not have a family, and that makes having a family even more special.

As a young boy, I wanted to have a paying job. My brother and sister and I started our own fish bait business. We put our stand on a busy street corner where fishermen could conveniently stop on their way to the many fishing spots up the canyon. We did not sell common variety fish bait like some of the other kids in the neighborhood; rather my father taught us that we were worm merchants. We distinguished ourselves from our competition by offering the liveliest worms at the best price. To keep the worms active we actually fed them coffee grounds that my dad brought home from the local drugstore. Our harvesting tactics were a closely guarded secret, and we had several prime spots for catching worms after nightfall. Our enterprise was so successful that it not only funded much of my education, but I still had $300 left of my earnings to buy a diamond ring for my wife when I got married.

One day a man came to the offices and said that he was a painter. My father agreed to pay the man to paint our barn. Father called and told the owner of the paint store to give the man some paint and Father would pay for it.
The man painted the barn and left town. Later the paint store owner called and told Father that the man had taken too much paint for one barn. I guess he intended to sell the extra paint to someone else and make more money. Father didn’t become angry or upset. He said, “Well, we have our painted barn, and somewhere that man knows that there is someone who was willing to believe in him.” My father could always sleep at night because his conscience was clear.

One of President Smith’s sons gave this poignant insight into his father’s character and to the source of President Smith’s great inner strength:
“As children, so frequently we would hear him say, ‘If only the people in the world would understand the trials, the tribulations, the sins our Lord took upon himself for our benefit.’ Whenever he would refer to this, tears would come into his eyes.
“A few years ago, as I sat alone with my father in his study, I observed that he had been in deep meditation. I hesitated to break the silence, but finally he spoke. ‘Oh, my son, I wish you could have been with me last Thursday as I met with my Brethren in the temple. Oh, if you could have heard them testify of their love for their Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.’ And then he lowered his head, and tears streamed from his face and dropped to his shirt. Then, after many seconds, without as much as raising his head, but moving his head back and forth, he said, ‘Oh, how I love my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ!’”

Early one Saturday morning, as the sun began to rise over Nsit Ubium, a group of young single adults gathered for a special institute class unlike any other. We called it “Breakfast with President Nelson.” Our course material was Teachings of the Living Prophets, and our next topic was “Succession in the Presidency.”
After the class, we met with our stake president, President Williams, and the YSA representative. I felt impressed to make the next lesson one that would not only be heard but also experienced. In our discussion, the Spirit reminded us of King Benjamin’s powerful counsel: “When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17).
We prayerfully selected some elderly members of the stake who needed support with household chores or farm work. Then, without revealing our full plan to the students, we asked each to bring a small, affordable token—perhaps a bar of soap, a sachet of milk, or any household item they could easily offer.
When the day arrived, our class began as usual at 6:30 a.m. As we studied the inspired order of succession in the First Presidency, we came to a beautiful realization together: in the Church, every calling—from the newest convert to the prophet of God—is an invitation to serve.
At the end of the lesson, I shared our plan. The refreshments we had prepared for class would be divided—half to be enjoyed and half to be given to those we would visit. I could see the excitement on the students’ faces as they realized that today’s gospel learning would be lived out in action.
Our first stop was the humble home of Sister Rosemary Abraham, an elderly sister who had been unable to attend church for years due to health and age constraints. Together, we cleared her lawn, swept her backyard, and presented her with the small gifts we brought. Her smile and tears spoke louder than any words.
Next, we visited Brother Harrison Ekanem, a long-time member, and his wife, a kind friend of the Church. Their home needed much care. We washed their clothes, cleared the bushes, and helped crack palm kernels she sold to support the family. Watching the young people labour joyfully touched her deeply. She promised to come to church to learn more about “these good people.”
Our final stop was at the home of a former patriarch who had suffered a serious accident and could no longer walk properly. This visit became the most emotional of all. As we helped peel cassava, clear his yard, and sweep around, he was moved to tears of gratitude—and so were we.
On our walk back to the stake centre, about a mile away, the students broke into hymns of praise. Their voices filled the quiet morning air as they expressed gratitude for the opportunity to serve. They spoke of how they had felt the Savior’s love and how their understanding of service had deepened.
Before we parted, one of them said, “Brother Ibok, can we do this every week? And maybe extend this same gesture to friends who aren’t members?”
That simple question felt like the echo of King Benjamin’s legacy—a reminder that true discipleship is found not just in what we learn but in what we do with that learning.
That day, we didn’t just study about prophets—we lived their teachings.

A professor here at BYU shared the following when I asked him whether or not he had experienced anyone cheating on exams or assignments. He said:

I tried letting the students take the exam online—closed notes and closed book. I discovered that a couple of students had the clever idea of all being in the same room at the same time while one student took the exam. That enabled them to all help him to do well, and it allowed all of them to see the questions and answers before they took the exam. I only found out about it . . . because one of the women who participated had been . . . consumed by her guilt, so she came in and confessed and told me how they had all cheated.

This professor went on to share his perspective on students who cheat:

One of the challenges I’ve seen with all of this is not that these are bad kids. But they do rob themselves of the opportunity that school was designed to be. . . . If you plow through school just trying to figure out how to get the best grade and the highest GPA, you limit the actual learning that takes place.

This professor told me that because the woman was honest, she did not fail the exam or the class but did incur some penalties. Others who cheated and did not come forth failed the class.

Then everything changed.
The whole world transformed overnight.
I’d reached the lowest point in my life. Nothing but a profound spiritual experience could change me. I knew deep down that I was meant to be doing more in life. And I’d finally become so desperate that I was open to the truth that perhaps God did live. I didn’t know anything about Him, but I started seeking His guidance. I searched desperately for a sign of His hand in my life. Then, suddenly, He answered, and I was catapulted into a world I’d never known.
My world came together in such an orchestrated fashion and guided me to exactly where I needed to be. Strangers, family, friends—everyone and everything—seemed to be sending me messages of love, concern, and support all at once. I started to notice a sensation in my chest: a wonderful burning feeling. And along with that feeling, I was witnessing a love that was completely new to me.
The love of God.
I really didn’t know what the feeling was or where it had come from at first. I just knew it didn’t come from me and that it was better than anything I had felt. It wasn’t until later while talking with my family that I really understood that I was experiencing a connection with Heavenly Father through the power of the Holy Ghost.
My reality suddenly changed from a dull gray to full color. And it was difficult to adjust. I knew God was real. But what did this mean? For at least a month, I would break down sobbing throughout each day. The new beauty of life I was seeing was forcing me to face the unbelievably ugly way I’d lived for years. I’d been so engulfed by hatred, and now I was witnessing the deepest love I’d ever seen. A love that struck me to my core. Life had become more beautiful than I’d ever imagined it could be. I knew God was calling me. He wanted me to seek a better life. And I was finally ready to answer Him.

One cool, misty morning last October, Don stood near the gigantic rocket, talking to the Mia Maids and teachers from his own ward. One of them was his daughter Lisa. He had just given them a tour of one of the simulators he used in training for the Skylab 3 flight. They had learned the function of the various gauges and switches, discussed how men work in weightlessness, talked about emergency procedures. They had sat in chairs just like those the astronauts would use and marveled at the incredible investment of time and training a person must make to take his or her place in one of those seats.
Now Brother Lind told them a little bit about the Saturn V rocket and the Apollo mission.
Then he talked to them about another journey, another mission, the one all mortals undertake, about the other mission control, and about the training that can get mortal adventurers home safely with their mission fulfilled.
“If we’ve learned anything in the space program,” he said, “it’s that we don’t want to make emergency decisions during an emergency. We want to think ahead of time about all the kinds of things that might come up and have preplanned decisions, which we call the mission rules, on what we’re going to do. When you go off to college and get invited to a fraternity rush party, and somebody shoves a glass of beer or a cocktail into your hand, if you have never thought about whether you believe in the Word of Wisdom, that’s far too late. Or if some guy pulls into a dark, country lane with you, that is not the time to start deciding if you believe in chastity. You should have decided that a long time beforehand. When we train for a flight we practice our procedures for every possible emergency through lifelike simulations. Then if a real emergency comes up we already know exactly what to do. So you’d better review your lovers’ lane procedures before you get there, or what you’re going to do in the military base before you get off the base and some new buddy says, ‘Come on with me. I’ll take you to a great place.’
“In life you’re going to get in these tight situations where, in a sense, you’re drastically alone. There may be 50 other people at the fraternity rush party, but boy, if you’ve never turned down your first cocktail, you’re going to feel all alone, and it’s going to be your background and your training and what you’ve thought out ahead of time that’s going to get you through some of those critical things.”
Don couldn’t be with them long, because he had many duties, but the young men and women had been dismissed from school till after lunch, so they took a tour of the visitors’ center, tracing the U.S. space program from the very beginning right up to the present. But although their heads were full of lunar buggies and Gemini capsules, they went away that day with an increased understanding that their own mission was far more important than anything that would ever come out of NASA.

One important teacher was my neighbor, Mrs. Carey. I was a young boy when World War II was raging, and every day after school she taught me about the war and the countries that were involved in it.
Mrs. Carey took me through the war day by day—in Europe, city by city; in the Pacific, island by island—explaining what was happening. In the process, I learned about history and geography. My interest in other countries was sparked during the hours I spent in her home.

Time moved on, and soon my family moved to New Hampshire. We were no longer part of a large ward or an overflowing stake, but now members of a tiny branch which spread over several small towns. We soon discovered that my sisters and I were the only LDS youth in our town. I really had to cling to what the Church taught. I found myself defending it many times, but in my heart the question still lingered.
Was this what I really believed? I still couldn’t come up with the answer, and the question wouldn’t leave. It just kept getting bigger and more urgent. I had to find out for myself, but I didn’t quite know how to go about it.
The years passed by, and finally graduation was around the corner. It would soon be time to take the next step—serving a mission. Going on a mission seemed to fill every conversation I had with my parents, but the truth was, I didn’t know if I should go. How could I teach people the gospel if I didn’t know for myself if it “I believe because I found out for myself.”
It was time to stop living off of “borrowed light.” I was determined to find out.
I didn’t know where to start, but I decided the Book of Mormon would be a good place. I started to study it, not just read it. I also decided to study it prayerfully. While I was doing this, I realized that I hadn’t been having personal prayers very regularly. I also realized that this was the first time I had honestly studied the scriptures. Maybe the reason I didn’t know if the Church was really true was that I had never prayerfully tried to find out.
I kept a list of questions I had about the Church in the cover of my Book of Mormon. At nights I made an effort to pray about a certain question, and quite often I would find the answer to that very question as I read. This happened too often to be just a coincidence. My prayers were actually being answered, and every time a prayer would be answered, it gave me a deeper incentive to continue in my investigation.
I finished the Book of Mormon and started on the New Testament. I had seen books like A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, and Jesus the Christ sitting on my parents’ bookshelves, and now I had an intense desire to learn what they had to say. I didn’t really read anything that I hadn’t heard before, but for the first time, I understood it. As I continued in my study and prayers, a strong testimony began to grow within me, and sometimes when I prayed, a warm feeling would overcome me entirely. I soon learned that the Holy Ghost was real.
I noticed one night that every question I had written on the list had been crossed out. Although it hadn’t happened all at once, my questions had been answered—every one of them.
Then I realized I knew that the Church was true. I knew it was true, not because my parents had told me it was true, not because the leaders of the Church had told me it was true, but because I had found out for myself.

Dale McCullers was an off-season social worker at a Florida boys’ ranch and a professional gridder for the Baltimore Colts the rest of the year. An All-American college linebacker, Dale had helped pull the Colts to victory in the Super Bowl.
Needing a used truck for his summer work, he was sent by a friend to a nearby auto lot where he spotted a truck he liked. He went to ask a salesman about it. Morris Poole glanced toward the truck Dale was pointing at and then looked squarely into the eyes of the linebacker who was planted in front of him.
“Now forget about the truck for a moment. I want to tell you about an angel named Moroni.”
Dale had intercepted many a pass but never one like that.
“I’m no biblical scholar, but I’ve never heard of such an angel.”
Dale drove away in a rebuilt 1949 truck, wondering if there was anything at all to the salesman’s story of Joseph Smith.
A believer in “customer service,” Brother Poole soon introduced Dale to the missionaries. Finishing the discussions took some persistence by Brother Poole and the elders. By his own admission Dale had some trouble accepting the fact that a used car salesman, a 19-year-old from an unknown city in Utah, and a Yankee from New York really had something important to say.
Dale and his wife Nell listened to the discussions during the following eight weeks. Shortly after, Dale was baptized by Brother Poole. Bearing his testimony after his baptism, Dale said, “All the excitement and glamour of playing ball seem insignificant next to finding the truth of the gospel.”
Morris went back to his car lot, grateful he’d had the courage to sell more than a 1949 used truck. Today Brother McCullers is president of the Live Oak Branch in the Tallahassee Florida Stake.

Second, the wolf of their own imperfections will test them. One woman told me through her tears how her husband’s constant criticism finally destroyed not only their marriage but her entire sense of self-worth. He first complained about her cooking and housecleaning and then about how she used her time, how she talked, looked, and reasoned. Eventually, she felt utterly inept and dysfunctional. My heart ached for her and for him.

We see so many evidences of that goodness, but I will mention just one. Last week, we were at the Red Cliffs Temple during Spring Break. As we walked in, we saw two college-aged women who stopped and looked at us like they recognized us. We knew right away that they were BYU-Idaho students, because no one else recognizes us.

We had a brief, but delightful chat with them. We learned that they were home for a week or so and decided to spend part of one of their spring break days at the temple. We thought to ourselves, “How good are they!”

And it’s not just them. What we saw in them, we see in you. We see so many of you in the Rexburg Temple. We see you on campus smiling and saying hello to people you don’t even know. We hear stories of quiet service, how you reach out to those who may feel left out. We see the Spirit of Ricks in you. We see those things, and so many others, and think, how good you are.

Illustration by Loni Harris
Sometimes when I’m reading scriptures, my brain likes to skip away to someplace else. It isn’t that I don’t want to read—it’s just that when I try, my mind wants to wander.
For example, when I read in 1 Nephi about Lehi dwelling in a tent, my mind wanders away to Young Women camp. Then that reminds me of when Boy Scout camp was accidentally scheduled at the same place and at the same time, and how they had to load the boys back up and move them. Then that reminds me of when I moved to another town, the car ride there, that hitchhiker we bought food for on the way, and so on and so on.
The next thing I know, I’ve read a full page but don’t remember anything. So I move on to read about Lehi’s dream, and it begins all over again.
I have read the first pages of 1 Nephi, Genesis, Matthew, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price so many times, but I would usually forget what I read and just check it off my to-do list and then distract myself from doing it again for a while. My heart does have good intentions, but it can be hard to jump in and truly feast on the scriptures. I’ve always wondered if I would ever be able to, you know … do it.
But then I found a way.
My way.
A way that actually works—for me.
I am a doodler and have been for a long time. I basically doodle whenever I have a pen and paper in front of me. I’m not a great artist; I just simply like to doodle. Repeated swirls, silly fonts, lines, patterns, zigzags, stick figures, circles—I love to do it, and I do it everywhere. It helps me concentrate and relax.
OK, so what’s this got to do with scripture study?
Here is what I did.
I bought a big black art notebook and a thin black marker, and I found a quiet place where I could spread out my supplies and read out loud.
Once I was all set up, I opened my notebook and created a title page that said, “Doodling through the Scriptures,” which I decorated with different fonts and squiggly lines. After I finished that, I opened the Book of Mormon to the first page of 1 Nephi, with the opening lines that I’ve read dozens of times: “I, Nephi, having been born …” I worked hard to concentrate and keep reading.
As I read, I paid attention to words that would jump out or pictures that were in my head. I took the time to draw what stuck out to me. Sometimes, it was a border around the entire page using Nephi’s name. Or I would put several different pictures and words in circles. Or I would write down one verse I particularly loved or even just one word.
This method allowed me to be free and play with the words. No one was timing me, grading me, or judging my drawings. I just tried to have fun, relax, and concentrate.
But wait, didn’t it take forever to get through the Book of Mormon this way?
Well, yes. Some days, I wouldn’t even get through a page. But it was worth the time.
As I read and doodled, I found things that relate to me personally. For example, why didn’t Laman and Lemuel just turn around and go back to Jerusalem and quit whining? (I doodled this with stick figures looking mad and pointing at Nephi, who looked happy.) While drawing this, I thought about this question. Laman and Lemuel came along but were crabby. I thought about when my parents ask me to do things I don’t want to do. I go along, but I sure make everyone else miserable along the way. I thought, “Do I sometimes act like Laman and Lemuel?” I wrote that question and my answer on the page, along with more doodles.
While I sat and pondered and read, I had feelings of calm, warmth, and safety come over me repeatedly, and I knew the book was inspired and true. And now, I have this art journal that I can use as a reference forever to help me remember that I received this witness that the Book of Mormon is true.
Taking the time to make lines, scrolls, or boxes around words and stick figures while reading would stop me in the moment and allow me to think, ask questions, and feel closer to the people in the scriptures. My mind would still wander, but it usually wandered to think about the messages, the people, or the Spirit that I felt while I quietly doodled.
I discovered how to make my study meaningful, and now I can’t wait for scripture study each day. For the first time in my life, the scriptures feel personal. Who knew that doodling could help me receive a testimony that the scriptures are true!
The author lives in Connecticut, USA.

I shouted for joy. My whole high school must have heard. Other students stared at me, wondering what had made me shout, but I could not contain my delight when I saw my name on the list of students admitted to the Philippines’ premier university. I truly felt blessed.

When people learned that I would be attending the university, they looked at me in awe. In moments of reflection, I couldn’t help smiling. My future was set. I was very grateful to the Lord for helping me succeed in the qualifying examinations.

“Heavenly Father, I can’t go on a mission right now. There is so much for me here. Let me continue my studies. After I get my degree, I will go and proclaim Thy gospel.

“I need to continue studying, Father. I need this for my future.

“Thou knowest that I have tried to persuade the department head to grant me a leave of absence for two years. She would not allow it. She told me I had to apply for an honorable dismissal from the university if I choose to go.

“Heavenly Father, I can’t go on a mission right now. I need this for my future.”

My heart was heavy as I approached the office door of the college secretary. He would tell me that I was out of my mind, that I would be sacrificing a promising future. How could I explain to him that the Lord had called me?

“I am here to see the college secretary.”

“It is about applying for an honorable dismissal.”

“No, I am in good academic standing.”

“No, I have not been involved in any criminal offense.”

“The reason? I have received a call from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to serve a full-time proselytizing mission. I need to give up my studies at the university to serve the Lord.”

“No, the mission cannot be postponed, and I will serve for two years.”

“I know that means I cannot return.”

“What? I can apply for a leave of absence? My department head said that I had to leave the university because a leave of absence can be granted for only one year.”

“The university policy was recently changed? She must not have known that, nor did I.”

“Thank you very much.”

After I served in the Philippines Ilagan Mission from 2000 to 2002, I resumed my studies at the University of the Philippines in Quezon City and then transferred to Brigham Young University–Hawaii. I look forward to marrying and raising a family in the gospel.

One evening my mom read “The Secret Giver” from the December 2008 Friend to us. We liked the story a lot and thought it was a great idea. So, we made a plan with our mom and decided who we would give gifts to for Christmas and when we would do it. We even did some detective work to discover what some of our recipients would like. We dressed in dark clothes and planned to drop the presents and run. We thought that we were just having fun, but we got more than fun out of this service mission. We felt really good inside after delivering the presents, and we were excited about doing something nice for others. We are already thinking about next year’s “secret giver” mission.

The Lord also helped me to push myself and grow when I was encouraged to attend a three-year program at the Cambodian School of Prosthetics and Orthotics (CSPO). I was unsure I could join the program because no one in a wheelchair had ever applied. However, circumstances ultimately allowed me to be able to attend the CSPO in Cambodia. I graduated there as the first student with a disability in the program’s history.

Last January in an effort to stimulate missionary activity, our Ohio stakes presented a program on the Word of Wisdom entitled “What Makes Mormons Run?” Church leaders encouraged members to bring many friends and neighbors to this meeting. A stake high councilor was sure his neighbors would refuse; and though he felt obligated to invite his next-door neighbor, he kept putting it off, knowing they would not accept.
Finally, somewhat embarrassed, he decided not to postpone the challenge any longer; and after praying that his approach and words would not be misunderstood by his neighbor, and holding the hand of his eight-year-old daughter, he went next door. They knocked on the door, were warmly greeted, and invited in. An invitation was extended to this neighbor family to come and hear a world leader and a prophet of God. The family agreed to attend.
Now it was much easier to ask other neighbors, friends, associates, his daughter’s piano teacher, and many others. His newly found courage led to more success and a comfortable feeling. Over forty people responded to his invitation. They had to charter a bus to transport their guests to the meeting.
And what about the first neighbor he invited? They are now members of the Church, a potential “forever family.” Before this family was baptized, this high councilor wrote, “I tremble to think that because of my reluctance to share the gospel with my neighbors, this choice family would have lost the blessings of the gospel. Oh, that every Church member could feel this wonderful experience!”
And why did his neighbor decide to investigate the Church? The neighbor said: “If any other neighbor had come to my door to invite me to investigate religion, I would have declined; but we were so impressed with your family, your cleanliness, and your actions. You are always friendly and smiling. Your yard looks so neat and clean, and you are up working in your yard before anyone else is out of bed in the morning. We wanted to learn more about you and your church.”