Gospel Story Finder

My parents investigated the Church in Germany during World War I, even though no missionaries were allowed in the country at that time. My mother first heard about the gospel from a cousin of mine, older than I, who was disowned by her family because she had joined the Church. Father permitted mother to attend meetings, taking my brother and me with her, but he would have nothing to do with Church himself. Then a fellow worker gave him a Book of Mormon and told him about the Church. Father read the book, studied the gospel, and began attending church with us.
When the branch president suggested baptism to my mother, she told him that she and the children were ready, but she wanted to wait for her husband. Father said, “I am ready, too.” But mother told him he wasn’t ready because he still smoked a pipe. Father broke his pipe into three pieces and threw it into the fire. As a jeweler and watchmaker he had been accustomed to working at a high table, smoking a long pipe that reached to the floor, so it really was an effort for him to give it up.

The Prophet Joseph Smith stood upon that vantage ground and spoke with authority. He said: “… The boldness of my plans and measures can readily be tested by the touchstone of … truth, for truth is a matter of fact; and the fact is, that by the power of God I translated the Book of Mormon from hieroglyphics, the knowledge of which was lost to the world; in which wonderful event I stood alone, an unlearned youth, to combat the worldly wisdom and multiplied ignorance of eighteen centuries with a new revelation, which (if they would receive the everlasting Gospel) would open the eyes of more than eight hundred millions of people, and make ‘plain the old paths,’ wherein ‘if a man walk in all the ordinances of God blameless’ he shall inherit eternal life. …” (George Q. Cannon, Life of Joseph Smith the Prophet, Deseret Book Co., 1964, p. 460.)

Bronwyn Blake, 14, of the Santa Clara Second Ward, Santa Clara Utah Stake, has a lot of responsibility. She serves as the ward chorister.
“People are surprised to see her leading the congregational singing,” Bishop Chris “J” Goodwin said. “I’m really proud of her. She has proven to be very reliable. She’s always there.”
Sister Hunt, one of the ward organists, said, “I really enjoy accompanying for Bronwyn. She knows what she’s doing and is very easy to follow. It makes my job very enjoyable.”
Bronwyn is the youngest of ten children. She has enjoyed music since she was very young. In addition to conducting, she plays the violin. She started as the assistant ward chorister at age nine and since then has conducted at stake conference, firesides, and Young Women activities.

Rachael Hills says, “My favorite place is the Cultural Hall. When we took a tour, they showed us the original floor. It was a place Joseph Smith would have walked. They let you dance there because that was what the floor was used for originally.”

Training horses has taught me a lot about living the principles of the gospel. Rehabilitating horses takes a lot of time and hard work. One horse took six months to train until he was comfortable being ridden on. That took a lot of patience.

President Thomas S. Monson told a story about a man from the eastern United States who was traveling by bus to California. In Salt Lake City a Primary girl got on the bus and sat next to the man. They started talking, and he asked if she was a Mormon. She answered yes. He asked her what Mormons believe. It was a big question for such a young girl. What would you have said? Imagine the look on the man’s face as she recited and explained the Articles of Faith. He couldn’t believe it!

After she got off the bus, the man thought about her courage and knowledge. As soon as he arrived in California, he called the local mission president and asked questions about the Church. The missionaries came to see him, and later the man’s entire family was baptized—all because a Primary girl knew the Articles of Faith and had the courage to share them (see Ensign, April 1994, pages 67–68).

I have been the recipient of his bearing up others’ burdens. There came a time when he could see the weight of the responsibility of his biography weighing me down. He invited me into his office and with the gentlest and kindest voice said, “How can I help?”
My heart could not resist his overture, and I poured out my feelings of inadequacy, the intimidating nature of the task, and the volume of material to capture, organize, and synthesize. I wanted so desperately to get it right—for him. Our exchange was one of my most precious mortal experiences. I felt like I was at the Pool of Bethesda and the Savior had lifted the drape and reached down to bear me up. President Monson understands the saving power of the Atonement and counts it a privilege to be sent by the Lord to bear up another.

I grew up in Rexburg, Idaho, where I was influenced and taught by a wonderful family, friends, teachers, and leaders. There are special experiences in the lives of all of us that touch our souls and make things different forever. One such experience happened in my youth. This experience transformed my life.
I was always active in the Church and progressed through the Aaronic Priesthood. When I was a teenager, Brother Jacob, my teacher, asked that I write down on a card what I had thought about during the sacrament. I took my card and began to write. First on the list was a basketball game we had won the night before. And then came a date after the game, and so went the list. Far removed and certainly not in bold letters was the name of Jesus Christ.
Each Sunday the card was filled out. For a young Aaronic Priesthood holder, the sacrament and sacrament meeting took on a new, expanded, and spiritual meaning. I anxiously looked forward to Sundays and to the opportunity to partake of the sacrament, as understanding the Savior’s Atonement was changing me. Every Sunday to this day, as I partake of the sacrament, I can see my card and review my list. Always on my list now, first of all, is the Savior of mankind.

We next settled in Caldwell and Davies counties, where we made large and extensive settlements, thinking to free ourselves from the power of oppression, by settling in new counties, with very few inhabitants in them; but here we were not allowed to live in peace, but in 1838, we were again attacked by mobs, an exterminating order was issued by Governor Boggs, and under the sanction of law, an organized banditti ranged through the country, robbed us of our cattle, sheep, hogs, etc., many of our people were murdered in cold blood, the chastity of our women was violated, and we were forced to sign away our property at the point of the sword; and after enduring every indignity that could be heaped upon us by an inhuman, ungodly band of marauders, from twelve to fifteen thousand souls, men, women, and children were driven from their own firesides, and from lands to which they had warrantee deeds houseless, friendless, and homeless (in the depths of winter) to wander as exiles on the earth, or to seek an asylum in a more favorable clime, and among a less barbarous people. Many sickened and died in consequence of the cold and hardships they had to endure; many wives were left widows, and children, orphans, and destitute. It would take more time than is allotted me here to describe the injustice, the wrongs, the murders, the bloodshed, the theft, misery and woe that have been caused by the barbarous, inhuman, and lawless proceedings of the state of Missouri.

While firefighters were battling roaring forest fires in the West recently, two grandmothers—Altha Clark, from Texas, and Hazel Stills, from Florida—kindled countless spiritual flames by creating new “interest of people who [had] investigated the Church for years, but who needed a firm, loving nudge to accept baptism,” and with caring fellowshipping, reached out to the less-active members.

“They don’t take no for an answer,” the second counselor in the Altamont Utah Stake presidency said, “and they [teach] without offending anyone.” They combine the Spirit with hard work.

A rancher said the two sisters “have kept us so busy I don’t have time to get my hay in. We … keep them [booked with people] to teach. In this stake, the full-time missionaries teach very few discussions without a stake missionary or fellowshipper going along.”

The two grandmothers travel about one hundred miles a day on unpaved country roads, and the dust and ruts don’t slow them down.

While visiting a member’s home, these remarkable missionaries asked if she knew someone they could teach.

The sister replied, “my husband.”

Directed by the Spirit how to approach this husband, they taught him the gospel and rejoiced with his wife at his baptism.

Fourteen families have now become active and will go to the temple this year because of the efforts of these full-time grandmother missionaries coordinating with the stake missionaries and properly following a plan in fellowshipping new members. A change has come about in the whole stake that has influenced the less active as well as nonmembers. (See Church News, 10 Sept. 1988, pp. 8, 9, 12.)

President J. Scott Dorius of the Peru Lima West Mission told me their story. He said:
“Becky and I were married for 25 years without being able to have [or adopt] children. We moved several times. Introducing ourselves in each new setting was awkward and sometimes painful. Ward members wondered why we [didn’t have] children. They weren’t the only ones wondering.
“When I was called as a bishop, ward members [expressed] concern that I did not have any experience with children and teenagers. I thanked them for their sustaining vote and asked them to allow me to practice my child-raising skills on their children. They lovingly obliged.
“We waited, gained perspective, and learned patience. After 25 years of marriage, a miracle baby came into our lives. We adopted two-year-old Nicole and then newborn Nikolai. Strangers now compliment us on our beautiful grandchildren. We laugh and say, ‘They are our children. We have lived our lives backwards.’”18

I think of my own experience as a Laurel adviser. The young women in my stewardship had one year until they would be out in the world on their own. I asked them what they needed to know to be ready for that independence. From their list of needs—balancing a checkbook, applying for colleges and jobs, cooking something besides cookies, and so forth—we planned our Mutual activities. I no longer had any problems with attendance, because we were preparing skills the young women needed to fulfill their important future roles. I could see that in the process of learning temporal skills, some spiritual skills were developing simultaneously. There was more genuine friendship and concern for one another. Mothers told me that the spiritual tenor of their homes improved as the young women shared some of their newfound skills.

My cousin was taken to the hospital because he had severe stomach pain. He had to get lots of tests done. I wrote him a letter and told him to be brave and that I would pray for him. I also packed a good book and a treat, which we took to the hospital. When we left, I had a very good feeling inside. I know if we do kind things for others it makes us feel good and it makes Heavenly Father happy.
Jake S., age 7, Alberta, Canada

During break time at school, I see people who are hungry and have nothing to eat. I share my snack and help them feel better. After sharing, I feel happy.

“I was with President Harold B. Lee in the hospital at the time of his sudden death. President Marion G. Romney, a counselor in the First Presidency, and President Spencer W. Kimball, of the Quorum of the Twelve, arrived and waited while the doctors did what they could. When it was announced that President Lee had died, President Romney turned to President Kimball and said, ‘President Kimball, what would you like me to do?’ In that moment—simply and without any doubts or questions—the leadership of the Church quietly changed hands in that hospital waiting room. It was a moment I shall never forget.”

There was another time in my short navy career when lifelines became very important to me. Our ship was in the south Sea of Japan when a typhoon struck. The sea became so turbulent that lifelines were rigged along the weather decks and in every passageway below. For three days the raging storm caused the ship to pitch and roll, making it dangerous to walk anywhere without holding to a lifeline. Even the common tasks of shipboard life became difficult to perform without a lifeline. Only a foolish or inexperienced seaman ventures topside in a storm without a lifeline. He knows that even in a calm sea a lifeline is kept within ready reach.

And what happened to that university student, Heraldo Torres, who promised his friend that he would serve a mission when he graduated? He kept his promise. After receiving his degree, Heraldo accepted a call to the Chile Santiago South Mission. His letters home bore ample witness of the joy he felt as he continued to share his light with others.

That help came to my father years ago when his work took him to Australia. He was alone on a Sunday, and he wanted to take the sacrament. He could find no information about Latter-day Saint meetings. So he started walking. He prayed at each intersection to know which way to turn. After walking and making turns for an hour, he stopped to pray again. He felt an impression to turn down a particular street. Soon he began to hear singing coming from the ground floor of an apartment building close by. He looked in at the window and saw a few people seated near a table covered with a white cloth and sacrament trays.

Now, that may not seem like much to you, but it was something wonderful to him. He knew the promise of the sacrament prayer had been fulfilled: “Always remember him and keep his commandments which he has given them; that they may always have his Spirit to be with them” (D&C 20:77).

My family moved to that little desert town in the middle of September—one of the hottest times of the year. But among the Mormon kids, all I got was the cold shoulder.
I was 15, and my family had already moved 10 times, so it wasn’t as if I didn’t know how to make friends. I tried everything I knew to break the ice, but after five months I still didn’t have a single friend who was a member of the Church.
Luckily, I had lots of good nonmember friends at school. But that didn’t make it any easier at early-morning seminary and church. I actually sat through five months of seminary without anyone saying hello to me, except my seminary teacher. And there was always one empty seat between me and the rest of my Sunday School class.
Tom Jeppson* was the ringleader of the Mormon kids. He’d never really said anything to me. In fact, I wasn’t even sure he’d noticed me until one morning when he met me at the seminary doors.
“Go home. We don’t want you here,” he said.
I started to laugh. He had to be joking, right? But when I looked at his face, I knew he wasn’t kidding. I looked at the others standing a few feet behind him. They didn’t say anything, which I figured meant that they agreed.
As I turned away, I heard the doors slam behind me and muffled laughing.
I’m never going to seminary again, I swore to myself as I walked the half-mile to the high school. It’ll be all their fault.
That day seemed like it would never end. After school, I rode the bus to my street, but I didn’t go home. I went to my seminary teacher’s house. He lived a few doors down from me, and I really liked him. In fact, I liked his whole family.
He usually gave me a ride to seminary each morning, so I wanted to tell him not to worry about picking me up anymore. Actually, what I really wanted was some sympathy.
Sister Murray answered the door. Brother Murray wasn’t home yet, but she invited me in for a drink of lemonade. It wasn’t long before I was telling her the whole story. She was sympathetic until I said I wasn’t going to seminary anymore and that I might not ever go to church again.
“If this was really the true church, people wouldn’t act like that,” I said.
I expected her to plead with me to come back. I wanted her to tell me she would talk to all the kids’ parents and get them in a lot of trouble. I thought she’d be ready to do almost anything to keep me active. But instead she said, “Well, fine. You’re not hurting any of those kids by not going. You’re only hurting yourself.”
I was too shocked to say anything. I quickly finished my lemonade and told her I had to go.
I stayed away from seminary and church for three weeks. My seminary teacher called a couple of times to check in on me. I missed seminary, but I was too proud to admit it. Instead, I kept telling myself that everyone was probably feeling pretty guilty that they’d made me become inactive. I told myself they would be in trouble on judgment day.
Still, I couldn’t forget what Sister Murray had said about me only hurting myself. And then, one day when I was reading the Book of Mormon, a scripture caught my eye.
“See that ye do all things in worthiness, and do it in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God; and if ye do this, and endure to the end, ye will in no wise be cast out” (Morm. 9:29).
As I read the words, the Spirit filled my heart and I realized Sister Murray was right. Sure, the kids had been real jerks. But they couldn’t keep me away from the Church if I was determined to be there. And best of all, they couldn’t cast me out in the end, when it really mattered. Not if I endured.
I got out of bed and set my alarm for 5:00 A.M. so I wouldn’t miss seminary the next day.
We lived in that hot, windy desert town for five more months and nothing really changed—except my heart. For the first time, I understood that no one was responsible for my salvation but me. I didn’t miss another day of seminary or church. And although the Mormon kids were still cold, it didn’t matter. I was filled with the warmth of the gospel.

Ever since Marcus got his CTR ring, he was determined to choose the right. It wasn’t always easy. A hard choice came when his mother told him he was going to get to see his grandmother. Marcus’s grandmother lived far away, so he didn’t get to see her very often.
When he saw his best friend, Ramon, at school, Marcus said, “I’ve got some great news!”
“I do too,” Ramon said. He handed Marcus an envelope. “Open it!”
“First let me tell you my news,” Marcus said. “My grandmother is coming from England! We get to see her!”
“That’s super!” Ramon said. “When is she coming?”
“Friday night. But we can only visit her at the airport because she’s on her way to help my aunt with her new baby.”
Marcus quickly opened Ramon’s envelope. “You’re having a party!” he exclaimed. “I can’t wait. When is it?” Marcus read the invitation, and his face fell. “Oh no! It’s Friday.”
Ramon shrugged. “That’s OK. I understand why you can’t come.”
“But I want to come. What should I do?” Marcus asked.
“I guess you need to make a choice,” Ramon said. “Let me know what you decide.” Ramon waved and ran to class.
When Marcus got home from school, he sat on the front step, flipping a coin.
“What are you doing?” Mom asked, sitting down beside him. Marcus handed her the party invitation.
“I’m sure Grandmother will understand if you can’t come to the airport,” Mom said.
“But I want to see her,” Marcus said. He looked at his CTR ring. “What do you think is the right thing to do?” he asked.
“They are both good things to do,” Mom said. “In this case, it’s a matter of which is the best thing to do. But I don’t think flipping a coin is going to help. Have you prayed about it?”
“Yes. I prayed and asked Heavenly Father to tell me what to do, but He didn’t. Why won’t He just tell me?”
“Maybe He wants you to figure it out for yourself first,” Mom said. “Then He will tell you through the Holy Ghost if you’ve made a good decision.”
“But how can I figure it out?”
“Follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost. He can help you make the choice between two good things.”
The next day at school Marcus told Ramon what his mother had said. “Won’t you feel sad if I don’t come to your party?” Marcus asked.
“Of course,” Ramon said. “But won’t you feel sad if you miss seeing your grandmother? If you came to my party, you might wish you were at the airport.”
“And if I go to the airport, I might wish I was at the party.” Marcus sighed. “I guess I need to think about it more.”
That night Marcus stood on Ramon’s front porch, holding a present. He rang the doorbell. Ramon answered the door.
“What’s this?” Ramon asked. “My party isn’t until tomorrow.”
Marcus took a deep breath and blurted out, “I’m sorry that I won’t be able to come to your party, Ramon. I brought your gift early. Happy birthday!”
Ramon smiled and took the gift. “Thanks! I’m glad you’ll get to see your grandmother.”
“Me too,” Marcus said.
“Can you stay for a while?” Ramon asked. “We’re frosting cupcakes, and we could use your help.”
“Now that’s an easy choice to make,” Marcus said, and headed straight for the kitchen.