Gospel Story Finder

Bay Roberts, Newfoundland—
A testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ is not something you should take for granted. You may think you have it one day, and before you know what’s happened it could be gone. At least that’s what happened to me. When I was younger, I knew that I had a Heavenly Father who loved me, and I loved him too. But as I got older, things began to change. I became a little less concerned with maintaining my testimony. I figured it wasn’t going anywhere, so why worry?
I started to focus less on spiritual things, and little by little doubts began to enter my mind. As time progressed, my concerns grew bigger and bigger until I wasn’t sure if the Book of Mormon was true. Soon I found it almost impossible to read it without finding something that I would disagree with or have trouble believing. The strong testimony I had as a little child was almost gone.
I continued to go to church all the time I was doubting, hoping that I could find something to give me the least bit of hope. It’s a good thing I did.
In Sunday School one day my teacher told us that in order to gain a testimony, you had to desire it. I sincerely wanted my testimony back, so I decided to try again, but with a different attitude. I started reading my scriptures again, but instead of looking for what was wrong with them, I looked for what was right. I prayed and asked Heavenly Father to help me believe in them and to know whether or not the gospel is true. Then, after the hardest and most lonely time in my life, something clicked and I knew it was true. I had my testimony back!
I now know that I must continue to work to keep my testimony growing and strong. I know that the Book of Mormon is true and that I have a Heavenly Father who loves me. It’s good to be back.

When I was seven years old, I really wanted a gaming console. I knew that my parents didn’t really like video games, so I made a deal with my mom. I told her that I would serve a mission if she would buy me the one I wanted when I got back. Smiling, my mom jokingly said, “Son, I will even buy you two games to go with it.”
Now that I’m 17 and seriously preparing to serve a mission, I realize how silly that deal was (though my mom and I still laugh about it). My motivation to serve has changed as my testimony and faith in Jesus Christ have grown. I want to share the joy and blessings that come with living the gospel.
I’ve found that going to seminary, studying my scriptures, praying, and helping with family home evening have helped me to feel more prepared to serve on my mission. I think it is up to us as youth to take the lead in preparing to serve. Maybe that’s on a mission. Maybe it’s attending the temple, participating in ordinances, and serving in the Church. Whatever we do, as long as what we want lines up with what God wants, we will be blessed.
Brigham R., New Zealand

Once, on my mission, my companion and I made a beautiful coconut cake. We wanted to show our love and gratitude for our ward members, so when we saw a cake mix at the grocery store, we knew exactly what to do.
We spent hours delivering slices of cake, saving the last ones for two recently returned missionaries. We stopped at our apartment to grab the last container of cake, then hurried to our friends’ house through the pouring rain.
Their porch was dark, so I couldn’t see their expressions very well, but I could imagine their grateful smiles as they sampled our beautiful cake. I did not imagine that one of them would stop chewing mid-bite and say confusedly, “Sister … this is rice.”
Realization dawned on me. I’d grabbed the wrong container—and brought them our leftovers from lunch!
I was humiliated. How could our act of service have gone so wrong?
Even though my cake delivery didn’t turn out right, my friends appreciated the gesture (and had a good sense of humor). “It’s not about the cake,” one of them said. “The real gift was the effort you made to serve us.” It didn’t matter to them what I’d done, just that I’d done something. Because of that, our friendship was strengthened.
Sister Maxfield and her companion, Sister Sousa

Jennifer twirled in front of her bedroom mirror in her sparkly red Christmas dress. She pictured herself standing center stage under the bright spotlights and giggled with excitement. She couldn’t wait to sing in the community Christmas program tonight!
Jennifer loved to sing. She especially loved singing Christmas songs! She had spent a lot of time practicing with her mom at the piano to get ready for her big solo. And now the day was finally here!
She hummed happily as she brushed her fingers through her curly hair. Then there was a quiet knock at the door.
“Come in!”
Mom opened it and stepped inside. Her eyes looked a little puffy. Jennifer could tell that she had been crying.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” Jennifer asked.
Mom put her arm around Jennifer’s shoulder. They sat down on the bed.
“Grandma just called,” Mom said softly. “Grandpa Hoyt passed away.”
Jennifer couldn’t stop the tears that immediately came rolling down her cheeks. She loved Grandpa Hoyt! Jennifer had visited him nearly every day. They played his favorite games, watched old shows on TV, or just talked. He had been sick for a long time and used an oxygen machine to breathe. But she couldn’t believe that he was really gone.
Mom pulled Jennifer into a tight hug while Jennifer sobbed.
“You don’t have to sing tonight if you don’t want to,” Mom said in a quiet voice. She wiped away some of Jennifer’s tears.
Jennifer nodded. Maybe Mom was right. Jennifer missed Grandpa so much it made her heart hurt. Maybe she didn’t feel up to singing anymore.
Mom wiped away some tears of her own. “I guess this gives us a special chance to remember why we really celebrate Christmas,” she said. “The Savior was born to give us light and hope. Even when we are sad.”
Jennifer took a deep breath. “And because Jesus was resurrected, Grandpa Hoyt will be resurrected too,” she said bravely. “Because of Jesus, we’ll see him again.”
Mom gave Jennifer’s hand a squeeze. “That’s exactly right, sweetheart.”
Jennifer felt like a warm, fuzzy blanket had been wrapped around her. She knew it was the Holy Ghost testifying that what she said was true.
Suddenly Jennifer had an idea.
“I want to share the light and hope Jesus gives us,” Jennifer said. She was determined. “I’m going to sing for Grandpa.”
Mom smiled through her tears. “I’m sure that would make both Jesus and Grandpa Hoyt very happy.”
“Can we say a prayer?” Jennifer asked.
Mom nodded, and the two of them knelt down by the bed. Mom prayed for Jennifer to have comfort, strength, and courage to sing.
After saying “amen,” Jennifer wrapped her arms around Mom in a big hug. “Thanks, Mom.”
When it was time to go on stage, Jennifer squared her shoulders. She smiled as she walked up to the microphone under the bright lights. The music started playing. Jennifer felt peace. And in her best singing voice, she sang about Jesus—the One who made it possible for her to see Grandpa Hoyt again.

When I was a Laurel more than 15 years ago, our stake Young Women president was a real heroine to me and many other girls. Her beautiful, curly brown hair impressed me, but she was also smart and articulate, a spiritual woman, a returned missionary, and a newlywed. She wore nice modest clothes, showing us how attractive we could be without compromising our standards. I remember her personifying every dream I had ever dreamed for my own future.
Once she was the speaker at a fireside for the Young Women. When we entered the chapel, we saw her gorgeous white wedding gown displayed in a prominent place. What can be more exciting than a wedding dress when you’re a dreaming 16-year-old? I imagined a fireside about boys and our bright futures.
But when our Young Women president started speaking, it became clear that this was not her plan. She started talking about chastity and how important it was to keep ourselves morally clean. She stood at the pulpit with notes and a pen and talked emphatically about these crucial matters.
All of a sudden the unthinkable happened. She gestured as she spoke and somehow flipped ink from her fountain pen across the wedding dress. The ink made a big stain on the white fabric. We were devastated.
I don’t remember exactly what she said next. It was something about our being as clean and pure as her white dress and that sexual transgressions, however small they might seem, would stain us just as the ink had stained the dress. I recall never ever wanting to be anything but clean and pure. It was a decision I had already made subconsciously, but now it was unforgettably engraved upon my heart.
After she had made her point about remaining clean or becoming clean, she informed us that the ink was invisible ink from a prank store and that it would disappear in a couple of minutes. She hadn’t tried it before, so we all sat there hoping it would work. It did.
Since that day this object lesson has had a special place in my mind. I want to appear before my Heavenly Father as pure as that white dress.
Anja Klarin, Borås Ward, Göteborg Sweden Stake

Several years ago, Sister Packer and I determined that we should get our records in order. However, under the pressure of Church responsibilities with my travels about the world, and the obligations with our large family and a home to keep up both indoors and outdoors, there just was not enough time. We were restless and finally determined that we would have to make more time in the day.

So during the Christmas holidays, when we had a little extra time, we started. Then as we moved back to a regular schedule after the holidays, we adopted the practice of getting up an hour or two earlier each day.

We gathered everything we had together and in the course of a few weeks, we were amazed at what we were able to accomplish. The thing that was most impressive, however, was the fact that we began to have experiences that told us somehow that we were being guided, that there were those beyond the veil who were interested in what we were doing. Everything that needed to happen began to happen.

As we have traveled about the Church and paid particular attention to this subject, many testimonies have come to light. Others who assemble their records together are having similar experiences. It was as though the Lord was waiting for us to begin.

We found pictures, records and stories we had wondered about for a long time. It seemed as though they came to us almost too easily. More than this, things that we never dreamed existed began to show up. We began to learn by personal experience that this research into our families is an inspired work. We came to know that an inspiration will follow those who move into it. It is just a matter of getting started.

Once we started, we found the time. Somehow were able to carry on all of the other responsibilities. There seemed to be an increased inspiration in our lives because of the work.

But we must decide, and the Lord will not tamper with our agency. If we want a testimony of genealogical and temple work, we must do something about it.

The Lord will bless you once you begin this work. This has been very evident to us. Since the time we decided that we would start where we were, with what we had, many things have opened to us. We are still not, by any means, experts in genealogical research. We are, however, dedicated to our family. And it is my testimony that if we start where we are, each of us with ourselves, with such records as we have, and begin putting those in order, things will fall into place as they should.

Would you like to share the gospel but just aren’t sure how to approach your friends? The teenagers in the Lake Butler Ward, Lake City Florida Stake, participated in a nine-week program for fellowshipping that helped them realize sharing the gospel is not as hard as it seems.
Every week they were assigned a specific activity to strengthen each other and get their nonmember friends interested in the gospel. In the ninth week the ward mission leader and his wife planned a party for the youth. The ticket required to get into the party was a nonmember friend, but after the nine-week program, that was no problem for these young missionaries.
This is the plan they followed:
Week 1: Respond positively to negative comments you hear.
Week 2: Get to be better friends with a member of the ward.
Week 3: List your positive qualities, and another you’d like to develop.
Week 4: Pray about finding a friend to fellowship.
Week 5: Plan an approach to your fellowshipping. Each day do something to let your friend know about the Church and what you believe. Invite him to the activity.
Week 6: Pray about giving your friend a Book of Mormon.
Week 7: Give your friend a Book of Mormon with marked scriptures and your testimony. Talk to him or her about what you’ve written.
Week 8: Encourage your friends to come to the party.
Week 9: The party!
To keep the youth interested in a party that was so far away, the leaders delivered clues once a week to tell what would be happening at the party. None of the teenagers really knew what was going to happen, and the clues just seemed to confuse them even more. Even when they got to the party they still didn’t know all the details. They were divided into teams and sent on a treasure hunt that included whistling Dixie, blowing up balloons, and kissing a horse—all before the other teams could finish first. It all ended with a pool party and lots of fun for everyone. It was a great way to teach the youth that missionary work isn’t as hard as it seems, and an even better way to introduce more people to the gospel.

Julie’s father once told her that wolves love each other, and if you learn to speak to them, they will love you too. When Julie is alone and lost on the north slope of the Alaska tundra, her only hope of survival is to receive help from the wolf pack near the shelter built by the thirteen-year-old Eskimo girl to protect her against the bitter cold. She knows she must gain the friendship of Amaroq, the leader of the wolf pack.
How Julie manages to survive and reach civilization is so beautifully told that this exciting story received the 1973 Newbery Medal for children’s literature.

Meanwhile, Elder Ott’s memory was kindly preserved by the German Saints. Shortly after Joseph’s death, the president of the European Mission and several elders of the Church conducted a brief graveside service and dedicated the grave. A monument, paid for by local contributions, was erected on the grave site. Constructed of white marble, the monument stood 1.6 meters high, and carried the inscription:
In Memory
of the Missionary
of The Church of Jesus Christ
of Latter-day Saints
Joseph A. Ott
Born Dec. 12, 1870
Virgin City, Utah
Died Jan. 10, 1896 in Dresden
Dedicated to Him
by His Fellow Believers
The German Saints sent a large photograph of the tombstone to the Ott family. For many years it was prominently displayed in the home of Joseph’s parents, and later in his sister’s home. Several years after his death, the Church offered to send Joseph’s remains home for burial in his home town. However, after careful thought and prayer, the family decided to leave the body in Germany, where his mission had tragically ended before it began.

I’ve seen what “suffereth long” and “endureth all things” mean. A family moved into a house near us. The home was new, so I was part of the crew of Latter-day Saints who spent a number of nights putting in landscaping. I remember the last night, standing next to the husband of the family as we finished. He surveyed our work and said to us standing nearby, “This is the third yard you Mormons have put in for us, and I think this is the best.” And then he quietly but firmly told me of the great satisfaction he got from membership in his own church, a conversation we had often in the years he lived there.

In all that time, the acts of kindness extended to him and his family never ceased because the neighbors really came to love them. One evening I came home to see a truck in his driveway. I had been told they were moving to another state. I approached to see if I could help. I didn’t recognize the man I saw loading household things into the truck. He said quietly as I drew near, “Hello, Brother Eyring.” I hadn’t recognized him because he was the son, now grown older, who had lived there, married, and moved away. And because of the love of many for him, he was now a baptized member of the Church. I don’t know the end of that story because it will have no end. But I know that it begins with love.

Jean B. Bingham, former Relief Society General President, describes Elder Kearon as calm under pressure. She recalls a time when she, Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, Elder Kearon, and others found themselves stranded abroad during a political uprising. Under Elder Bednar’s direction, Elder Kearon spent hours on a satellite phone working with local officials and Church representatives to create a path for their removal.
“His calm nature, focused efforts, and inspired insights produced a solution that allowed for our safe departure,” says Sister Bingham.

After serving a full-time mission, I remember feeling sad and confused about what to do professionally. But Heavenly Father strengthened me to keep my faith and my covenants, and He blessed me with a mother who kept hers too. Her faith and determination became a source of inspiration to me.
As I contemplated college studies, I considered a major that wasn’t really what I had dreamed of studying. Noticing my sadness, my mother said, “Hold on to your dreams. Choose the path you know in your heart is right.”
When I was a child, I had dreams related to music and entertainment. I learned to play the piano, led Church choirs, and shared the gospel through music. For a time, life’s challenges and distractions took me away from those dreams.
Our covenants offer us security. As I kept my covenants, I felt His special love for me. He removed obstacles from my path until my path became clear.
I came from a small town that offered little promise for an unknown boy. Today, I produce professional concerts and theater shows in Buenos Aires. My wife, children, and professional work are my dreams come true.

After a number of students dropped out following our freshman year, my dental school classes became even more competitive. Everyone worked hard to be at the top of the class. As the competition increased, some students decided that the way to succeed was by cheating. This troubled me greatly. Every day I prayed that I would be blessed to learn the assigned material and remember what I studied. I knew I couldn’t ask the Lord to bless me if I cheated. I felt strongly that if I did my part, the Lord would grant me this blessing.
During summer break, I went to visit a dentist who had graduated from my school. I talked to him about cheating. He said he had encountered the same problem.
“What did you do?” I asked.
“What could I do?” he replied. “I had no choice but to cheat occasionally.”
I pondered his answer. Here he was, a successful dentist, and he had cheated to get his degree. But I knew I couldn’t cheat. I wanted to be right with God even more than I wanted to become a dentist.
My junior year, I was offered a copy of an upcoming test in a crucial class. Obviously that meant some of my classmates would have the test questions ahead of time. I declined the offer. When the corrected test papers were returned, the class average was extremely high, making my score low in comparison. The professor asked to speak to me.
“Roy,” he said, “you usually do well on tests. What happened?”
“Sir,” I told my professor, “on the next exam, if you give a test that you have never given before, I believe you will find that I do very well.” There was no reply.
We had another test in the same class. As the test was handed out, there were audible groans. It was a test the teacher had never given before. When our graded tests were handed back, I had received one of the highest grades in the class. From then on, all the tests were new.
That was not the end of the Lord’s blessings to me. At the end of their senior year, all dental students have to take practical tests—performing procedures on patients while professors watch and grade their performance. If you don’t do well on these practical tests, you don’t graduate. In the early winter of my senior year, I slipped on a patch of ice and broke my right arm. Immediately I felt grateful that it was only January, assuming the cast would come off in six weeks. But I was informed I had broken the scaphoid in my wrist, one of the most difficult bones to heal. I would be in a cast for six months. In despair, I realized I couldn’t work on patients with a cast on my right arm.
I asked for a priesthood blessing. In that blessing I was told not to fear, all would be well. After some weeks I discovered that my fingers were perfectly agile, even with the cast on. When I arrived at the testing area, the professors shook their heads, insisting there was no possibility I could perform the necessary procedures. I asked them to let me try, and if they were not satisfied I would withdraw. Each patient looked surprised upon seeing my cast, but I was able to perform the procedures to the complete approval of the examining professors. I graduated in the top of my class.
I know the Lord blessed me for my commitment to be honest. I learned that when we do what the Lord asks, He is a powerful ally for our success. With Him, we can accomplish more than we could possibly do on our own.

As a young man, I served in the U.S. Air Force as a jet-fighter pilot. We spent hours in a training device that simulated real flight. There an instructor taught us about emergencies that could occur when flying at the speed of sound and about what we must do to avoid disaster.
One young man in my flight-training unit refused to listen to those with more knowledge and experience. When it was time for him to go to the trainer and learn emergency procedures, he went to the swimming pool, pistol range, or golf course, instead.
A few months later, my friend’s plane caught fire on a night flight. If he had trained seriously, his response would have been automatic. He would have ejected, as his copilot did. But he tried to land the plane and crashed. He died because he had not learned to leave danger immediately.

Courage is one of Joseph Smith’s special qualities. Without it, he would have shrunk from carrying out his remarkable role. At about age seven, he had a gravely infected leg. Amputation seemed inevitable. He refused alcoholic anesthetics when his leg bones were surgically and painfully treated in a new technique. By the way, that thoughtful little boy asked his mother to leave the room so she wouldn’t have to witness his suffering.
For Joseph’s ailment, the best medical help available in America was surprisingly just a few miles away: Dr. Nathan Smith, founder of Dartmouth’s medical school and the experienced pioneer of this advanced technique (see Le Roy S. Wirthlin, “Joseph Smith’s Boyhood Operation: An 1813 Surgical Success,” Brigham Young University Studies, spring 1981, pp. 131–54; see also “Joseph Smith’s Surgeon,” Ensign, Mar. 1978, pp. 59–60). He led the team who saved Joseph’s leg, including for the grueling march of Zion’s Camp.

Because you are a first-generation member, each choice you make is important. Seemingly small, insignificant decisions will impact past and future generations, as well as your own life. One young first-generation member, Chris, was offered a drink of alcohol at work the day after his baptism. His friends were all there and were drinking. There was considerable pressure. No one else knew that the day before, he had been baptized and made promises to the Lord. He made the decision not to drink and was treated poorly. Reflecting on that event later, he wrote: “It is now forty years since I made those [baptismal] promises and I can truthfully say that I have … kept the Word of Wisdom. … I believe if I had accepted [that] drink that I would, perhaps, never have been able to keep the Word of Wisdom.”

But Chris kept his baptismal promises. Later he met and married a faithful member. Together they raised eight children in the gospel. Now in the sixth generation, his faithful descendants number in the hundreds. Dozens have served missions and introduced the gospel to others. His efforts in family history opened the blessings of the gospel to hundreds more. One small decision by a first-generation member made a difference for thousands.

I left my parents’ home, when I was 21 and went to stay with my uncle. I started going to the college at the Institut Superiéur des Techniques Appliquées.

Lacking money to pay for food or transportation, I still went to school, sometimes doing the auto stop, begging for help. I cried sometimes standing on the street—waiting and waiting. I never felt discouraged by my situation. I did that for three years. Then I attended another university for five more years. It was difficult, but I never gave up.

I still remember my dad’s counsel, “My son, if you do not learn the cost of a loaf of bread, you will never know what your life truly means.”

I started doing small jobs here and there. I tutored students. I did everything that was honorable to do. Sometimes people mocked me, but I knew what I was doing. It was for my life.

With my small income, I paid my tithing and saved to pay for my education. I will always be grateful to my mentors, my parents, my priesthood leaders, and friends who were there to encourage me. Those experiences in my early life helped to build who I am today.

You know the scripture in 2 Nephi 32:5, where Nephi tells us, “The Holy Ghost … will show unto [us] all things what [we] should do”? I never really understood that statement until I experienced it.
Some friends and I were out on our bikes one afternoon at a place called the “dirt hills.” It was our favorite place to go. We went there almost every day. It was only about a mile from where we lived, so we could ride our bikes there. We could literally spend hours on end at the dirt hills, jumping our bikes. It was great fun.
One time when we were there, my friend Tyler crashed his bike. He and his bike seemed to be OK, so we kept jumping. After about five more minutes, I stopped my bike. Tyler came over and asked what was wrong. I told him I had a really strong feeling that we should leave and go home. I felt kind of weird saying that because we had only been there about 15 minutes. But Tyler told me he felt the same feeling. I knew it was time to go.
As we got closer to home, Tyler kept saying his bike was acting strange. Then it broke into pieces as we reached the corner of the street where we both lived. The pedals fell off and the chain broke.
What would have happened had we not followed the prompting to leave? The Holy Ghost knew it was time to go. He showed us that it was time.
I am so thankful we listened to the Spirit when we did.

When Friederike started school, she didn’t like it and wanted to stay home! However, before first grade was over, her parents and her teacher decided that school was too easy for her. They promoted her to the second grade, in which Friederike found the challenge she needed. Now she is in the fourth grade and doing well. Her teacher said that even though this sweet child is two years younger than most of the children, she adds a great deal of sunshine and enthusiasm to the class.

Ephraim Hanks is a remarkable example of a young man’s obedience to spiritual promptings. In the fall of 1856, after he had gone to bed, he heard a voice say to him, “The handcart people are in trouble and you are wanted; will you go and help them?” Without any hesitation he answered, “Yes, I will go if I am called.”
He rode quickly from Draper to Salt Lake City. As he arrived he heard the call for volunteers to help the last handcart companies come into the valley. Eph jumped up and said, “I am ready now!” He was as good as his word, leaving at once and alone.
A terrific storm broke as he took his wagon eastward over the mountains. It lasted three days, and the snow was so deep that it was impossible to move the wagons through it. So Eph decided he would go on horseback. He took two horses, one to ride and one to pack, and picked his way carefully through the snow to the mountains. Dusk came as he made his lonely camp at South Pass. As he was about to lie down he thought about the hungry Saints and instinctively asked the Lord to send him a buffalo. As he opened his eyes at the end of his prayer, he was startled at the sight of a buffalo standing barely 50 yards away. He took aim, and one shot sent the animal rolling down into the hollow where he was encamped.
Early next morning, he took the two horses and the buffalo meat and reached Ice Springs Bench. There he shot another buffalo, even though it was rare to find buffalo in this area this late in the season. After he had cut the meat into long strips, he loaded up his horses and resumed his journey. And now I quote from Eph’s own narrative:
“I think the sun was about an hour high in the west when I spied something in the distance that looked like a black streak in the snow. As I got near to it, I perceived it moved; then I was satisfied that this was the long looked for handcart company, led by Captain Edward Martin. … When they saw me coming, they hailed me with joy inexpressible, and when they further beheld the supply of fresh meat I brought into camp, their gratitude knew no bounds. Flocking around me, one would say, ‘Oh, please, give me a small piece of meat;’ another would exclaim, ‘My poor children are starving, do give me a little;’ and children with tears in their eyes would call out, ‘Give me some, give me some.’ … Five minutes later both my horses had been released of their extra burden—the meat was all gone, and the next few hours found the people in camp busily engaged in cooking and eating it, with thankful hearts.”
Certainly Ephraim Hanks’s obedience to spiritual promptings led him to become a vanguard hero as he forged ahead alone through that devastating winter weather to preserve many pioneer lives. Because he listened to the whisperings of the Spirit and obeyed the counsel of the Brethren, Eph became a notable liberating force in the lives of those desperate, struggling pioneers.