Gospel Story Finder

Anna B., age 10, Maharashtra, India, watched general conference with her mom. She makes sure to bring her journal and pens each conference to write down the testimonies and messages she hears.

A convert from less-active parents, he was baptized at age 16 with the rest of his siblings. His parents later returned to activity.

Lucía was at the boat ramp when Mariano pulled his boat out after the race. She had her own race coming up to think about, but when she saw his disappointed tears, she broke down herself.
“I knew how hard he had worked,” she says. “I couldn’t bear seeing him so disappointed. I had never seen him like that.”
Together, the twins sorrowed in Mariano’s disappointment. Finally, Lucía’s coach separated them, worried that she wouldn’t be able to focus on her own race. But when the time came, Lucía and her teammate won their pairs race and later the South American championships, earning the right to compete in the 2004 Olympics.
And just as they had shared sorrow in Mariano’s disappointment, they rejoiced together in Lucía’s success.
“I was so excited when she won the opportunity to compete in the Olympics,” Mariano says. “She earned it.”
At the Olympics, Lucía and her teammate ended up ranked 17th. Like Mariano’s results, her finish wasn’t exactly all she had dreamed about. Still, their goals remain high. In the short-term, they want to qualify for an Olympic medal. In the long run, they want to qualify for eternal life.

Shortly before the dedication of the Frankfurt Germany Temple, a group of us stood in an unfinished room. Building materials and tools were scattered over the floor and craftsmen were busily engaged in placing finishing touches on the walls and ceiling. Though the room was untidy and a beehive of activity, we were subdued by the emerging beauty of the temple.
I asked Brother Henry Haurand, the construction supervisor, “Do the workers appreciate the significance of this project?”
“No,” he answered, “they are not members of the Church and they don’t understand the sacred nature of temples. To them,” he added, “this is just another job.”
My wife inquired of Henry, “Do you always feel the Spirit of the Lord when you come here?”
“No, I do not,” he responded. “When I enter the temple during the working day, I do so as a building supervisor and I look with a critical eye for flaws in the construction. In this inspective mood, I feel nothing special about the place. But,” Brother Haurand continued, “when I come here in the quiet of the evening and the place is free of noise and confusion, and I am able to reflect upon the holy purposes of the temple, I am overwhelmed by the Spirit of the Lord.”
I have pondered Brother Henry’s words many, many times. I’ve concluded that he taught us two profound truths: (1) sacred things are seen and appreciated only through “the eyes of faith,” and (2) things of the Spirit can only be discerned by “purer eyes” (Alma 5:15; D&C 131:7).

Fourteen years ago I decided to attend the temple and complete an ordinance at least once a week. When I am traveling I make up the missed visits in order to achieve that objective. I have kept that resolve, and it has changed my life profoundly. I strive to participate in all the different ordinances available in the temple.

Taylor doesn’t seem to do anything halfway. His rodeo successes earned him a scholarship to one of the top rodeo colleges in the U.S., Southwest Oklahoma State University.

It was in Oklahoma that Taylor’s priorities shifted from rodeo to serving the Lord. At college, Taylor found himself immersed among people with different beliefs. It was quite a change from his hometown of Richfield, Utah, where it seemed everyone around him was a member of the Church. “I got to thinking, ‘There’s got to be something about these different religions and beliefs that these people have that makes them believe it’s true.’ And I thought, ‘I’ve got to find out for myself.’”

Just as Joseph Smith did, Taylor turned to the scriptures and prayer to find the truth. “I really started studying the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon,” Taylor says. “The gospel just made so much sense once I started reading and once I really started focusing and trying to understand what I wanted. It took me going out to Oklahoma and having all those people question my faith. I had to find out for myself.”

When Neil was five, his family moved to a dairy farm in Pocatello, Idaho. Neil raised rabbits, rode horses, and played in the fields with his siblings. When Neil was about seven years old, a rabbit he especially liked escaped from its cage. He relates:
“I looked all over our little farm, but I could not find it anywhere. I remember walking back behind an old barn and praying that I could find the rabbit.
“Immediately after the prayer, an image came into my mind of a spot beneath some boards. And sure enough, I went to that spot and found my rabbit. This experience and many others like it taught me that the Lord responds to the small and simple prayers of all of us.”

When I went to my brother’s basketball game, I made some new friends. They wanted me to play under the bleachers. I asked my mom if it was OK. She told me she didn’t think it was safe. So we didn’t play there, and we stayed safe. I’m glad that I have parents to help me be safe when I obey.

Growing up in a small village in Kenya, we were basically peasants. My father had a job in agriculture on the lowest rung of the government. He worked in the fields with farmers. And so at home, he always asked my brother and me to join him on our small farm as he worked to provide food for our family. When he was away, he assigned us each a portion of the field to plant, or weed, or harvest, depending on the season.
I learned a lot of lessons working with my dad. I remember admiring how well he weeded his patch. He was so thorough in removing the weeds. He would carefully remove the weeds and all their roots. The plot he weeded was always so clean, while my plot was often messy with weeds that I hadn’t completely removed. He never lectured me while we weeded, but his example taught me a lot. And I applied it to other areas in my life.
Because of his example, when I did school homework, I was careful and thorough. Because of him, today I don’t leave details unattended. I don’t leave “weeds.” When I help people, I try and get at the root of their problems. That came from spending time with my father on our small farm in the early years of my life.

My wife, Barbara, passed away almost four years ago. But because we entered the house of the Lord and were sealed as husband and wife by the power of the priesthood, we are bound together with our seven children, 43 grandchildren, and over 100 great-grandchildren, for all eternity. What a wonderful thing the temple is! Joy fills my heart because my family will be together forever. And your family can be too.

Out of power. My mind floated back to a precalculus class the past spring. We’d been studying trigonometry. Normally I was a straight-A student, and most of the class had been a breeze. But the endless ribbons of sine and cosine graphs had tied themselves into a granny knot in my mind. On the pretest, I’d flopped. I’d forgotten my calculator, and the teacher had none to share.
Then came the day of the real test. Calculator firmly in hand, I dug in. Question one … all right, not too bad. Question two … a few swift strokes and my graph faithfully produced the answer. Question three. Question four.
Question five … I needed a graph for question five. I punched in the equation and pressed “enter” on my calculator. Suddenly the screen went blank. Frantically, I pressed the “on” key. Once again … again.
Like a paramedic trying to elicit a response from a victim of cardiac arrest, I pounded on the button. The screen darkened briefly, as if struggling for a breath, but still nothing. I flipped the calculator over and moved the batteries around, knowing full well they were dead. Still nothing. I waited a few seconds then tried everything again. With a sigh I finally set my calculator down. It was out of power.
The test before me was more than half incomplete. I tried a few questions, mostly guessing, and started to feel the cold tingle of panic. My eyes fixed on the hummingbird wings of the clock. “Please slow down, please,” I wanted to say. Helplessly I looked outside, wondering what it felt like to fail a test.
Then it hit me. I knew what I hadn’t done. Surreptitiously, I scanned the room, then bowed my head. “Dear Heavenly Father, I thank thee for all my many blessings, and I’m grateful for all I have. I know this is just a math test and not really important in the big picture, but it’s important to me, and I need help …” I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it was one of the most earnest prayers I have ever offered.
I looked up. Trembling, I pulled the calculator close. Now what? Nervously, I fingered the keys. What if it still didn’t work? What if I didn’t have enough faith? What if there was nothing to have faith in? A nebula of doubts clouded my head. No. I traced the “enter” key with my finger. No. Simultaneously I both pushed away the whispers in my head and pushed the square designated “on.”
The display blinked to life. Fighting back the urges to either yell or cry, I covered my mouth. I would make it through the rest of the test.

When Elder John H. Groberg was a young missionary, for weeks he and many others suffered great hunger because of a hurricane. What are some of the things he found as evidence that Heavenly Father loved him? (Clue: See p. 9.) List some of your blessings that show God’s love for you.

After my wife, Anne, and I received a call to serve as full-time mission leaders, our family determined to learn each missionary’s name before arriving in the field. We obtained photos, created flash cards, and began studying faces and memorizing names.

Once we arrived, we held introductory conferences with the missionaries. As we mingled, I overheard our nine-year-old son:

“Nice to meet you, Sam!”

“Rachel, where are you from?”

“Wow, David, you’re tall!”

Alarmed, I went to our son and whispered, “Hey, let’s remember to refer to the missionaries as Elder or Sister.”

He gave me a puzzled look and said, “Dad, I thought we were supposed to memorize their names.” Our son did what he thought was right based on his understanding.

Sister Anita Richardson, now 80 years old, is a devoted and faithful member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints from the island of St. Martin in the Caribbean Sea. She joined the Church in 1989. Her story of discovering the Church is remarkable, full of faith, and a powerful example of listening to the Spirit.
Before Anita was a member, she worked at a hotel for 23 years. As a dedicated employee, she earned a month-long vacation every five years. One year she decided to dedicate her vacation to coming closer to Christ by fasting, reading her scriptures, and praying. She planned carefully, visiting her friends and family beforehand, setting up a mattress on the floor, and arranging everything she thought she would need by her bed. She was now prepared.
However, on the first morning of her dedicated time, Anita realized she had forgotten to pay her power bill. She got up early the next morning and headed to the bus stop to take care of it. As she was about to board the bus, she suddenly heard a voice say, “Don’t get on the bus.”
Startled, she turned around but saw no one. She heard the voice again, “Don’t get on this bus.” The bus driver, impatient, asked if she was getting on. Still unsure why, she decided not to.
Then the voice prompted her to walk to a nearby store. This was even more confusing because she had not intended to buy anything and had not brought any money with her. She stood outside, waiting and wondering why she had been brought there. She began to argue with herself, questioning if she was imagining things. Then the voice spoke again, directing her to cross the street.
Feeling bewildered but obedient, Anita crossed the street. She noticed a store owner opening his shop, who invited her in, saying, “I have nice new things.” Anita declined and continued walking. Standing on the other side of the street, she noticed two young men with backpacks. The voice prompted her to go over and talk to them. At first, Anita resisted. Approaching strangers wasn’t something she was comfortable with, and she didn’t feel she had anything to say. But the prompting intensified, and summoning her courage, she approached them and said, “Good morning. What is your mission, and what are you doing?”
The young men introduced themselves as missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. At first, Anita was wary. At the time, there were concerns in the Caribbean about cults, and Anita wondered if these young men might be part of something similar. She rudely snatched a book one of the missionaries held, the Book of Mormon. As she flipped through its pages, she grew more agitated.
“Who is this Lehi?” she said. “We don’t have those names in the Bible.” As she read more, Anita’s suspicion grew. She declared the book a “copycat” and criticized it openly. While arguing, she heard a voice telling her to “Slow down. Slow down.” On the cover she saw the words “Another Testament of Jesus Christ.” Could this really be a second witness of Christ? She recalled scriptures about God revealing His word through multiple witnesses and remembered stories of ancient records hidden for future generations. Her heart softened as she began to wonder if this book was part of God’s plan to teach His children. Slowly, her heart began to soften. She asked the missionaries, “Will you sell me this book?”
The missionaries smiled and said, “We don’t sell it, but we’d love to study it with you.”
She read the Book of Mormon, and over the next few weeks, Anita met with the missionaries regularly. “I knew Heavenly Father wanted to teach me something,” said Anita. “It was really something. I read it so fast. I met with the missionaries once or twice a week because it was so interesting.” The missionaries patiently answered her questions using the Book of Mormon, and for the first time, Anita felt satisfied. She realized that this book contained truths she had been seeking for years.
It didn’t take her long to decide to be baptized. “The missionaries told me to ask the Lord,” she recalls. She told them, “I don’t need to ask the Lord; it’s clear to me.”
Looking back on her journey, Anita recognized how the Spirit guided her every step of the way, from the moment she was told not to board the bus to her first encounter with the missionaries. Her faith has blessed her life and the lives of those around her. She continues to serve and inspire others, always ready to share her testimony of how God led her to the truth.

One young woman from Haiti in the Caribbean showed her desire to be a disciple of Christ by inviting her friend who was not a member of the Church to come with her to an FSY conference. At first her friend’s father did not want to give his daughter permission to go. Church leaders explained about the positive experiences that awaited her and the wonderful young adult counselors who would be watching over her. The father gave permission for his daughter to attend, and after seeing the difference it made in her life, he also gave her permission to attend Church meetings and—six months later—be baptized.

When I started college, I joined the debate society. The other members discovered I was a Latter-day Saint when I corrected them on what was said about “the Mormons” after a debate. I had never talked about my religion before, so I got a lot of questions that day. I felt scared and almost avoided answering. I knew what I believed, but I did not know how to share it. I prayed but didn’t seem to get an answer.
A few days later, while I was on Facebook, I saw an article from LDS.org that my leader from church had posted. It made me realize I could also post things from the Church. I looked up the topics my debate team had asked about, posted links on my wall, and tagged all those who were involved. I felt they would be better satisfied with the answers.
I had never posted about my beliefs online before, so this has brought a lot more curious people asking about my religion. As they ask questions, I try to give the basic answers as well as links to Church materials. This way people do not have to rely only on my answers but can also rely on what the General Authorities say about their questions. When the conversations become more sensitive, I answer the person privately through messaging.
I am really glad the Church provides online materials. I still feel butterflies in my stomach whenever someone surprises me with a question about the Church. But now I no longer wait for their questions to come; I proactively post Church materials online. I know these materials can help both my member and nonmember friends alike.

In August 1989, the whole family went to the temple—father, mother, their eleven living children (one of their twelve children had died), and the husband and children of their oldest daughter—a total of nineteen family members. “We left home at 1:00 A.M., ” says Zulma. “The sun wasn’t up yet, and it was totally dark. And it was raining and was terribly muddy. We were drenched as we walked barefoot in the mud, carrying our shoes, our bags, and the little children, until we reached town. As we walked through the darkness, we sang hymns. I remember singing, ‘Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven.’” (See Hymns, 1985, number 27, verse 4.)
From town, they took a series of buses—joining with other groups of Church members along the way—and finally arrived at the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple at 6:00 the next morning. It had been a journey of twenty-nine hours.
“We entered the temple, received our endowment, and were sealed as a family,” says Sister Torales. “The temple was a spiritual, beautiful place. The Spirit bore witness to me that this really was the house of the Lord.” Their deceased daughter was sealed to them. And their oldest daughter and her husband and children were sealed as a family. Then they had to leave the temple and travel back home.
On their way back, they stopped in Encarnación and attended Church meetings with the branch members there. Then, for the last hour and a half of the trip back to their farm, they were again on foot in the mud—carrying their shoes and bags and children. “As we walked, we sang more than before because of our joy,” says Sister Torales. “We sang, ‘Count your many blessings!’” (See Hymns, 1985, number 241.)
Indeed, says President Torales, “we have many blessings.”

Another young man on Coach Marcus Cloud’s team has accepted the gospel. While the New Era was in Hempstead, we talked with Javier Sauceda (above), who was being taught the discussions by the missionaries. When Javier asked to be baptized, he requested that his coach perform the ordinance. Coach Cloud was thrilled by Javier’s request.

I have been blessed to hear many modern-day examples of youth, just like you, who are not afraid to arise and shine forth and allow their light to be a standard among their peers. Joanna was one of only three members of the Church in her high school and the only young woman in her ward. She committed to herself and the Lord that she would never use bad language. When she was paired with a young man for a school project who had not made the same commitment, she did not lower her standards. She asked him to respect and honor her values. Over time, with many gentle and some not-so-gentle reminders, her friend formed new habits and used cleaner language. Many people noticed the difference, including his father, who thanked Joanna for being a good influence in his son’s life.14

Jack was in trouble. He had poked his little sister, Harper. Mom told him to stop. He dumped his toys in the kitchen. Mom asked him to pick them up. He pulled out all the plastic cups to build with. Mom told him to put them away. Then he got in a fight with his little brother, Adam. And that’s when Mom yelled at him. Jack yelled back. Then Mom told Jack to go sit outside.
Jack ran through the kitchen and out to the balcony. He slid the door shut as hard as he could. He walked back and forth and back and forth. He was mad!
And he was sad. He wished Mom hadn’t yelled at him.
He stopped and looked down at the cars far below the apartment. He watched small cars and big buses drive by. He wished he hadn’t yelled at Mom. He shouldn’t have teased Harper. Or fought with Adam. He hadn’t made very good choices today.
Jack sighed. He looked back at the street and counted cars.
Soon the balcony door slid open. It was Mom.
“Jack?” she said softly. She stepped outside and slid the door shut behind her. She stood by Jack and looked at the cars with him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” Jack said. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t very nice. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course.” Mom gave Jack a big hug. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m still learning just like you are, and sometimes I make mistakes.”
Jack hugged Mom tight.
“Let’s go try again,” Mom said.
She followed Jack back inside. She helped him pick up the cups. They helped Harper find her blanket. Then they played a game with Adam and Harper. When Adam got mad about losing, Jack didn’t get mad back. Mom gave him a big smile. They were learning and trying together.