Gospel Story Finder

Not only will elders quorum and Relief Society presidencies take the primary role in moving forward the work of salvation, but they will also be much more involved in ministering to, counselling with and helping men and women with their personal problems and challenges. For too long, members have gone to the bishop with every problem they have, but those best equipped to help them are the elders quorum and Relief Society presidencies. Let me give you an example of an elders quorum president who understood his responsibility to minister, to teach and to help each member.
On February 11, 2017, I attended a priesthood meeting in New Delhi, India. As the quorum meeting started, the quorum president stood before his quorum and wrote on the white board: “Shepherd’s List,” and then listed the names of four quorum members having employment challenges. He explained the difficulties that were faced by these families and asked whether anyone knew of employment opportunities for these four brethren. Immediately, hands went up, and different brothers said things like, “My company is hiring. I know that he has the skills needed. I can introduce him to the right people for an interview.” This went on for each brother facing difficulty, and employment opportunities were identified for each one.
Truly, this quorum president ministered to these brethren and their families. When his quorum members had a problem, he took it to the quorum to find help. He took the initiative and, in a kind and loving way, engaged the quorum to help each one who was in need. The power of working through the quorum to solve individual needs was evident, and there was a true spirit of love for each other. This quorum ministered to the needs of its members, and lives were blessed.

The following Wednesday, I turned down an invitation to a Young Women activity so I could go to the movies with Amy and a few other friends before the summer ended. When I pulled up I saw Amy and Beth standing along the brick wall outside the theater. As I began walking toward them, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Amy and Beth were smoking!
After a few moments of trying to hide my discomfort, Amy leaned toward me and whispered, “Just do what I do, and Beth won’t know you’ve never smoked before.” She handed me a cigarette. My hands were shaking so badly I dropped the lighter as she handed it to me. Reaching down to pick it up, I caught a glimpse of my pink neon shoelaces. I remembered the Pink Penguins. I remembered seeing those laces help carry me to share my testimony. This time was different. Those laces carried me across the parking lot to my car and straight to the Young Women activity.
That evening as I crawled into bed, I couldn’t help but notice the peace and happiness I felt. I reflected on how the evening might have turned out if I had accepted the cigarette. I knew the Spirit would have left me. My pink laces were nothing more than a symbol—a symbol that someday would grow old and wear out. I knew the joy I found would not wear out as long as I continued to keep my actions consistent with my beliefs.

Dear brothers and sisters, I recently officiated in a temple sealing, following COVID-19 guidelines. With the bride and groom, both faithful returned missionaries, were their parents and all their siblings. This was not easy. The bride is the ninth of ten children. Her nine siblings sat in order, oldest to youngest, socially distanced of course.
The family had sought to be good neighbors wherever they lived. However, one community had been unwelcoming—because, the bride’s mother said, their family were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
The family did everything to make friends at school, contribute, and be accepted, but to no avail. The family prayed and prayed hearts would soften.
One night, the family felt their prayers were answered, though in a very unexpected way. Their house caught fire and burned to the ground. But something else happened. The fire softened their neighbors’ hearts.
Their neighbors and local school gathered clothes, shoes, and other necessities needed by the family, who had lost everything. Kindness opened understanding. It was not the way the family hoped or expected their prayers to be answered. However, they express gratitude for what they learned through hard experiences and unexpected answers to heartfelt prayers.

The young single adults (YSA) of the Assin Foso Ghana South Stake recently demonstrated the spirit of Christian service by organizing a blood donation drive to support the Assin Polyclinic blood bank. More than 25 YSA—including both members of the Church and friends from the community—rolled up their sleeves as part of their Gathering Place activity. Their gift of life not only strengthened the hospital’s capacity to respond to emergencies but also highlighted the rising generation’s commitment to service and compassion.
Hospital management expressed deep appreciation for the contribution. “God will surely bless each one of you for this life-saving service,” they shared, noting the example the youth had set for others in the community.
Although the stake president, Ebenezer Quansah, was unable to attend in person, he called by phone to thank the YSA for their devotion and sacrifice. He praised them as living examples of Christlike service and encouraged them to continue lifting and blessing others through their talents, time, and willingness to serve.
This simple but powerful act stands as a testimony that faith in Christ inspires action—and that even one donation can help save many lives.

Photo illustration by Ilda Masa/iStock/Thinkstock
On the first morning of our vacation, my family and I went snowboarding. After several runs and then lunch, my father, my older brother, and I decided to try a new trail. We snowboarded for quite some time through unfamiliar territory, encountering strange obstacles that you wouldn’t normally find on a regular ski trail. We weaved through trees and pushed through the endless snow until we discovered we’d taken a wrong turn at the top of the mountain. Now near the bottom of the canyon, we realized we were lost.
We were standing in three feet of snow, and aside from the few pine trees that dotted the canyon, everything was white. We had no idea where to go. It was three o’clock in the afternoon; in a few hours, the sun would set and temperatures would drop dramatically. Plus, the ski patrol went home at four o’clock. If we didn’t get help soon, we’d have to spend the night in the freezing cold, stranded in a snowy canyon without food, water, or clothes that would keep us warm enough through the night. I didn’t even want to think about what might happen to us.
We knew that contacting Mom was the only way we’d get out of the canyon that night. So we got out our phone, but we didn’t have any reception and the battery was almost dead. We adjusted the settings on the phone so an alarm would go off if we got to a place with service, and then we wandered anxiously as the sun sank lower behind the mountain.
As it got darker and colder, our chances for survival seemed to decrease. I began to worry. “What if we don’t make it out tonight?” I thought. Feeling overwhelmed and scared, the three of us offered a prayer to Heavenly Father asking for safety and for the comfort of the Holy Ghost. We asked Heavenly Father to help us find our way out of the canyon, to meet our physical needs, and to allow us to contact help.
As we opened our eyes, we saw a small trail, and the Holy Ghost prompted us to follow it south. Hiking through three feet of snow in winter gear is not an easy task, but we felt God’s merciful hand pushing us forward.
We reached the top of a small hill, and the phone beeped. We didn’t dare move from where we stood. Carefully, I pulled out the phone and sent Mom a message explaining our dire situation and asking her to contact the ski patrol.
By this point, the sun had almost disappeared behind the mountain. Temperatures averaged -25º Fahrenheit (-32º C) and were dropping fast. We were wet, cold, and tired, and we still had no idea where to go. “We could die out here,” I thought.
Then we heard voices—people were yelling for us! We yelled back and waved our arms around to try to get their attention. The ski patrol followed the sound of our voices until they saw us. They led us safely out of the canyon, and we were reunited with Mom, who waited just outside the mouth of the canyon. We had been saved.
As soon as I sat down, my tired body collapsed, the setting sun disappeared behind distant mountains, and my cell phone’s battery died. Heavenly Father had given us just enough energy and time to safely make it out of the canyon. He had heard our prayers and granted them to the fullest.
I am so grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who hears our prayers and watches over us.

A short time ago I attended the funeral of a friend’s son. Earlier in the week, the young man was traveling home late at night with friends when the driver of another car fell asleep. The second car crossed the median and smashed head-on into the first. The accident occurred with such swiftness that few, if any, brake marks showed on the highway and both cars were demolished. The accident took three lives, including my friend’s 17-year-old son.
In reflecting on the accident, I have thought about the lessons taught by death—particularly the death of a loved one.
Another lesson taught by death concerns the importance of eternal families. Just as there are parents to greet a newborn on earth, the scriptures teach that caring family members greet the spirits in paradise and assist them in the adjustments to a new life (see Gen. 25:8; Gen. 35:29; Gen. 49:33). While I was standing before the casket, the thought came that separation was not only a shock for the parents but also for the young man as he suddenly found himself on the other side of the veil. I suspect that he would like to tell his parents once more how much he loves them. Brothers and sisters, heaven exists only if families are eternal.
Last week I received a letter from the boy’s parents telling me of the peace they have found through their faith in Christ. They know they will see their son again and be with him in the eternities. As Isaiah stated concerning the Savior, “Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: … and with his stripes we are healed” (Isa. 53:4–5).

In the distance we can hear voices descending through the mountain trees. Looking up the rocky slope, we see three Italian girls, arm in arm, singing and walking toward us. Gradually we recognize the song—a favorite among LDS young women—“I Walk by Faith.” As Iris Cartia, Annalisa Brandonisio, and Stefania Ferrazzano come closer, they all begin talking at once—part in English, part in Italian, and part in French, with a lot of hand gestures. Then Stefania starts to sing a popular Italian song for us, accompanied with dancing and good-natured laughter. Soon, the girls get serious again and sing several LDS hymns. These girls, who range in age from fifteen to seventeen, come from widely different areas and backgrounds in Italy, but it is obvious that they enjoy each other.
Three short whistle blasts—the call to supper. The three girls hesitate for a moment, but supper can wait while they finish sharing expressions of testimony and friendship. After a few more songs from these unpretentious girls, we all reluctantly and slowly return to camp.

Akoni is 12 years old. He lives in New Mexico, USA, in the Navajo Nation. This is an area of the United States governed by the Navajo people. More than 250,000 people live there.
When Akoni was younger, he watched his older siblings go to Young Women and Young Men.
He also saw how happy they were when they went to the temple. Akoni was excited to visit the temple too.
Akoni prepared for Young Men by going to church and talking with his family.
He asked questions about the temple so he would be ready to go inside.
“I was nervous to go to the temple for the first time,” says Akoni. “But when I’m in the temple, I feel safe.”
The closest temple to Akoni is the Albuquerque New Mexico Temple. It is a four-hour drive away. Akoni is excited that soon a new temple will be built closer.
Akoni hopes to serve a mission one day, just like his older siblings.
He has started sharing the gospel by inviting his friend to church. He wants to be an example to his younger brother and others too!

We have been blessed with six children and so, as you can imagine, we’ve accumulated an impressive amount of toys over our 18 years of parenthood. A few years ago, we brought out our Toy Story collection for our youngest keiki and found that our Woody’s pull-string mechanism wasn’t working. When we pulled the string, nothing came out from the voice box. Suspecting dead batteries, my wife, Amy, changed the batteries for the first time since we bought the toy. After swapping out old batteries for new ones, Amy noticed that the switch was on “TRY ME” mode and not switched to the full “PLAY” mode. For 12 years, our Woody Cowboy had been limited to just three phrases.

Once he was switched to PLAY mode he said four times as many phrases, sang “Home, Home on the Range,” AND there are sensors in his head, so he knows when someone takes his hat off! After 12 years, the Woody doll that we all loved was markedly better than he was when he was stuck in the “TRY ME” mode. Needless to say, it was quite the mind-blowing experience for us all.

Brothers and sisters, how many of us are stuck in our own “TRY ME” mode; not utilizing or magnifying the talents our Father in Heaven has blessed us with?

Monday evening the family went to the chuck wagon races at the Calgary Stampede. President Benson watched with the keen eye of a lifelong horseman as the chuck wagon teams careened around the track in a cloud of dust and tangle of wagons, horses, and outriders. A constant stream of LDS Scouts who were visiting from the nearby international jamboree came to shake the Apostle’s hand, and he graciously turned away from the spectacle to greet them warmly. Afterward there was a stage show honoring Canada, and then the night became noon as fireworks blossomed in new constellations overhead. The family laughed and joked and cheered. The best part of the evening was just being together.

Carlos Aguero, of Mendoza, Argentina, was called to go to Paris, France, for his mission. He had seldom been out of his own city. He knew no French. But he, like Nephi, did not murmur and he went. When he arrived in France, he found that his mission president did not speak Spanish. In fact, none of the other missionaries spoke Spanish; they only spoke English and French. Elder Aguero could not speak English. All the zone conferences and instructions were given in English. All other speaking was in French. Carlos studied, he prayed, he cried, he pleaded with the Lord and asked for help from his mission president and his companions. It took months, but he learned French and English. He served an honorable mission. Now living in Mendoza, Argentina, he often uses his English in Church service and in his profession. In April 1986 he translated for President Hinckley at a six-stake regional conference in Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Our Young Women leaders decided that an overnight trip was just the thing to get us ready for camp. They chose the banks of the San Pedro River in southern Arizona, USA, to set up our practice camp.
After rolling out the sleeping bags, the other girls and I wanted to explore and get into the water. The leaders thought some discussions on safety and first aid should come first. So we all sat in a shady spot near the river for the lesson.
Paying attention wasn’t easy when we could see the river shining in the sun. The breeze was playing in the cottonwood trees as Sister Brown* talked. We had all heard the lesson before, and I just couldn’t understand why we needed it now. We knew all about putting pressure on a wound to stop the bleeding, but there she was telling us again.
Before they let us go, the leaders repeatedly told us not to go in the river without shoes. “You never know what’s in there, and you’ve got to protect your feet.”
As I got to the edge of the river, some of the other girls were already splashing in the water. The water was brown with mud. It was less than a foot deep all the way across, and I couldn’t believe that it was dangerous.
I decided to take off my shoes. I had brought only one pair, and I didn’t see the sense in getting them wet and having soggy shoes all day. My two best friends, Martha and Elizabeth, both reminded me of what the leaders had said. I took my shoes off anyway and explained my reasons. Martha took hers off too. Elizabeth was more hesitant. I waded out into the water and with a sarcastic tone said, “Keep them on if you want to.”
She sat down, took off her shoes, and ran into the water. After about five steps she stopped, turned pale, and calmly said, “Oh, no.” When she pulled her foot out of the water, I could see blood streaming out of a cut. She had stepped on a broken bottle.
The sight of blood made my brain go numb. Even though I had just been listening to a lesson on first aid, I had no idea what to do. I decided to run for help. Two others helped her out of the water.
I found Sister Brown and told her what had happened. She thought I was kidding. But when she saw Elizabeth sitting in the trail with blood gushing from her foot, she ran toward her shouting, “Put pressure on that cut!”
The lesson of 10 minutes before began to sink in. The girls, who had been standing around Elizabeth and watching her bleed, elevated her foot and put pressure on the wound.
Elizabeth was taken to the hospital, where she was told that she had almost cut her foot in half. It required numerous stitches and would take a long time to heal. The next time I saw her she was using crutches.
I never thought I could or would ever convince my best friend to do something that would hurt her that badly. I had never seen myself as a bad influence before.
Now I’m trying to be a better example to my friends, and I’m more willing to listen to my leaders. They know what they’re talking about.

Poao and Atalina Ahhow met while they were both single teachers at Sauniatu. After they were married, they decided to go to BYU—Hawaii Campus and get additional schooling. Atalina said she learned about being a good mother and teaching a family from watching the young people work on the various projects.
“I also learned that you need to check after a project is done. If it isn’t right, do it over,” she said.
Her husband, Poao, said that he learned leadership skills, and once he caught the vision of doing the impossible, he felt he could go away for additional schooling so he could become a better teacher. “I learned that sometimes when the work is very hard, if you make a joke and smile, it seems easier.”
Poao and Atalina struggled at BYU—Hawaii because they didn’t have much money. “We had learned to sacrifice while at Sauniatu, and the Lord blessed us for it. When we needed money to do our washing, we would visit a pool near the temple. Every time we needed a quarter for the washing machine, it was waiting for us in the pool. Sometimes more was there, but we only took enough to do our washing. When we didn’t need money, we never saw money in the pool. This is one way the Lord helped us,” Poao said.

Before I was baptized, I struggled with certain parts of the Book of Mormon as I read it for the first time. Almost every day I sat down for a few minutes to discuss the gospel with Frank, my Latter-day Saint co-worker. I asked Frank tough questions about the Book of Mormon, and he always answered in a practical way that helped me at the time.
When I finished reading the Book of Mormon, I tried to pray about it. I did not get a burning testimony, yet I felt that it contained truth. Although I wasn’t sure it was historical, I believed that it was an important Christian document. I concluded that the Book of Mormon was inspired.
As I looked at the Church and its members, I found a blending of spirituality and gospel application in daily life that reached out and touched other lives—including mine. I felt that Mormonism was New Testament Christianity in action. Thus, I was excited at the possibility that I might have discovered a church that was the best example of true Christian living on earth. This led to my decision to ask Heavenly Father, in humble prayer, a simple question: “Should I join this church?”
I remember that as I knelt in the darkness in my living room, I poured out my heart to the Lord and told him of my search, my struggles, and my desire to do his will. I was ready to act on whatever answer I received. After my prayer, I reached for my Bible. As I searched its pages, I felt an unmistakable directive to my soul: “Yes, you should be baptized!” I wept for joy. Finally, I knew what I should do.

A youth group in Missouri, USA, decided to put their culinary prowess to the test on this tasty activity. All youth were separated into groups. Then each team was given a cake, some decorating supplies, and the task of decorating the cake to depict a specific scene from the Book of Mormon. In the end, before eating the cakes, everybody had to guess the scene on each cake. “The Spirit was so strong and we were having fun,” said one of the young women. “We all got along and helped each other out.”

My husband used to be the person in charge of distributing the Liahona throughout Peru each month. In his travels he would meet people who were not members of the Church working in security booths. When they would ask, “What are you carrying in your van?” his kind reply was, “Magazines of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—magazines called the Liahona.”
They would often be intrigued and want to know more about it, and my husband always carried some extra copies that he gave away. He always went to the same places, so when he returned, he would ask them, “How did you like the magazine?” And if they said they had read it, he would get their names so the missionaries could go to their homes and teach them about the Church.
One day, years later, we were leaving the temple. What a surprise it was when my husband knew the person in the security booth. He had been baptized, and now he and his loved ones were preparing to be an eternal family.
Thank you, dear brothers and sisters, for writing such interesting articles. They help us all to progress, and everything we read in the magazine touches our hearts.
Ana Meza de Eulogio, Peru

During the Arab-Israeli Six-Day War of 1967, a midnight patrol of Israeli soldiers along the shore of the Sinai Peninsula spotted a faint green light hovering in the waters of the Red Sea just beyond a coral reef. Thinking that they had surprised a team of enemy frogmen, they fired explosive shells into the glowing area. The result, however, was not a spoiled enemy mission, but a beach strewn with the bodies of many small dark fish, from whose heads shone pairs of strange green lights.
What had fooled the Israeli soldiers was a school of flashlight fish, little known inhabitants of dark underwater caves and crevices that come to the surface of the sea on dark, moonless nights to forage for small organisms on the reef’s edge. Their sources of light are packets of a very unusual type of bacteria, billions of them in each packet, that give off a steady green glow. Located just under their eyes, they are used quite effectively by the fish as “headlights.” In fact, the fish can even turn them on and off by either blinking to cover them with an “eyelid” or by rotating them into protective pockets like the headlights of some automobiles.

Adult leaders of the youth in the Hong Kong China Stake asked the youth council to choose their own service project. After the youth looked into their community’s needs, they decided to teach children from low-income families at a local school. Around 125 youth taught over 80 schoolchildren about developing talents, making healthy food, holding family gatherings, and creating true friendships.
“This was not just a one-time influence,” said Anita Shum, stake Young Women president. “What the youth have done with the kids could have a lasting effect.” She added that the youth now have good memories and experiences that will bless them forever.

“But how can you go on a mission? I’m getting married, and you’re the only member of my family who can come. You’re my mom! I mean, it’s only the most important day of my life. What kind of wedding is it going to be for me with no family to celebrate?”
I remember the conversation as if it were yesterday. I was a freshman from California going to Brigham Young University planning to marry George, a quiet boy from Manti, Utah, who had just returned from his mission to Italy. My parents had divorced when I was 12, but I had a wonderful non-LDS father, two inactive sisters, and a devout and adventurous LDS mom who, at age 47, had decided to go on a mission. She would leave just months before my scheduled wedding day in the Manti Utah Temple.
Mom hadn’t intentionally planned to miss my wedding, but she hadn’t told anyone about sending in her mission papers. George and I had surprised everyone, including ourselves, with a Valentine engagement and a May wedding date. I cried for days. It seemed the event I’d been so anxiously awaiting was now a source of great sorrow and disappointment.
George called my dad to explain why we were getting married in the temple, since my dad would not be able to attend. My father’s voice was thick with emotion as he questioned my fiancé. George explained how much he loved me and how he wanted to convey that love by entering into a marriage that, if worked toward, would last through eternity. He also told my father how much we loved and respected him.
My father shared his feelings of love for us and said he understood, but listening on the other line, I could hear tones of doubt and disappointment in his voice. I was his youngest child, and he wouldn’t even have the chance to give me away in a traditional wedding. I hung up the phone and cried for two more days.
My mom left for her mission, and I concentrated on school and preparing for finals. Preparations for my May wedding almost became an afterthought. In fact, my attention would not have been as focused on wedding plans if a girl in my dorm, Teresa, had not also become engaged on Valentine’s Day.
Teresa and her fiancé were planning to marry in the Salt Lake Temple and have a large reception afterwards. Each weekend she would go to Salt Lake to work with her mother on the preparations. And each Monday, Teresa would return with stories about their progress, including a detailed description of her beautiful dress.
I was making my own dress, and since I only managed a C minus on my apron project in 10th grade home economics class, the design was, needless to say, simple. I had chosen cotton material with six satin-covered buttons down the front and a bit of lace around each cuff. It cost 30 dollars. My terrific dorm mom helped me put it together during finals week.
I remember sitting at the sewing machine late one night picking out stitches from yet another seam and grumbling about Teresa’s professional fittings into a gown with yards and yards of cascading white satin draped with hand-sewn French lace. I could imagine that Teresa must look like a dream bride as the seamstress would pamper and pin and her mother would compliment and cry.
I’d cry, too, every time I thought about Teresa and her plans. It wasn’t that Teresa was flaunting her good fortune. It was me, not she, who had some repenting to do.
I awoke on my wedding day to sunshine and the smell of lilacs. I pushed open the small second-story window and felt a gentle May breeze dance its way past me into the room. The Manti Utah Temple stood gleaming on the hillside, beckoning.
As I turned from the window, I saw my simple white dress hanging on a wall hook by the side of the bed. Someone had lovingly pressed out the travel wrinkles and quietly hung it there while I was sleeping. Tears welled up in my eyes. I missed my mom, dad, and sisters. I wanted them with me. How could I possibly get married with no family, no reception, and no gorgeous gown?
Then, as my eyes rested on my 30-dollar dress, the Spirit spoke clearly to my soul: What you do in faith is rewarded in power.
I caught my breath. I wasn’t marrying for this moment, or even this lifetime, but for eternity. Against earthly disappointments, I was manifesting my testimony in action. I loved my Heavenly Father, I had faith in His system of marriage, and because of that faith He would bless our union with power.
It was true. We are now celebrating nearly 30 years of joyful commitment. Even though there have been times of miscommunication, disappointment, and struggle, the power of eternal bonding has pulled us through. We look across the breakfast table at each other and think, There is my very best friend.
The power has also extended to other family members. My mother and I are great friends. And my father, even though he has now passed on, truly did honor and respect George and me as “young people with stability in this crazy, mixed-up world.” My sisters, although still not active in the Church, are beginning to see some consistency in what George and I have put together.
Please don’t think I’m flaunting my good fortune. I’m just so exuberant about the wondrous ability God has to bless our lives if we put our faith in Him. It’s that simple. Love Him, trust Him, and the miracle of eternal sealing can happen, even in a 30-dollar dress.

As a young man I was called as a ward missionary and enjoyed proselyting with the missionaries. I also watched as some of the young men in our ward went on missions. When they returned, they were different. They were more learned and mature, both physically and spiritually. My older brother also served a mission. When he returned, I saw many improvements in his behavior. I kept asking myself, “What is it about a mission that makes all these people change and grow so much?” I became enthusiastic about going on a mission.
After I finished high school, I was working to save money for a mission. Soon my desire to serve a mission became lost because I enjoyed the money I was making. It would have been a sacrifice to go on a mission because the money I earned helped support my family. Each time I started filling out my mission forms, I thought about the money I would be giving up, and I dropped my forms and continued working.
As my friends left on missions, I felt bad because I knew I should also be getting ready to go. This caused me to examine myself. I thought, “Sustaining the prophet and my leaders is not just raising my right hand. It’s doing what they say and obeying our Heavenly Father’s commandments.”
Now was the time to serve a mission, so I submitted my mission papers to the bishop. It was the second happiest day of my life. The happiest was the day my bishop called me to his office and gave me a white envelope with my mission call to the Nigeria Ibadan Mission. My heart was full of joy.
In the missionary training center, I became better acquainted with the doctrines of the gospel and learned marvelous things. I was also able to receive my endowment in the temple. I am so grateful for my decision to come on a mission, and I have never regretted it. I too have grown spiritually on my mission. I believe it is because I am helping people receive the same gospel blessings that have brought so much happiness to me and my family.