Gospel Story Finder

As a teenager I went to visit my aunt in 1991. During my stay she introduced me to the full-time missionaries, and I met with them a few times in my aunt’s home. They asked me if I wanted to learn more about the gospel, but I told them I wasn’t interested.
I returned home to Costa Rica, only to have missionaries visit me there. (My aunt had given them my address.) I still didn’t have any interest in their message, so I asked them to leave.
Four years passed. I was dating a woman with whom I had been friends for many years, and our relationship progressed to engagement. As I thought about our future together, my heart turned to things of a spiritual nature, and I told my fiancée that I wanted to know God. We decided that I would attend church with her to learn about Him. In the meantime I prayed privately to God for opportunities to come to know Him.
During this period of searching, missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saint again knocked on my door. Frustrated that they had returned, I told them to go away, and then I shut the door. But at that very moment, a thought struck me: “You’ve been praying to know God. What if these men have some answers for you?”
I opened the door again and called after the elders. I invited them to come in and teach me.
I quickly discovered the power of the truths they taught, and I embraced the restored gospel. Three weeks later, on March 12, 1995, I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
My girlfriend was not pleased with my decision. One night about three months later, she told me that I had to choose between her and the Church. What a painful decision! After a lot of pondering and deliberating, I chose the Church.
I felt that I had made the right decision, but the months following our breakup were a dark time in my life. Nevertheless, I found hope in living my newfound religion, especially in coming to know my Heavenly Father, as I had prayed to do.
A year after my baptism, I left for a full-time mission in Nicaragua. My service there brought me great joy, and my knowledge of and love for my Heavenly Father grew. Several months after I returned from Nicaragua, I met Lili, the woman who would later become my wife.
Making the gospel a priority in our lives isn’t always easy. The decisions I made were difficult ones. But I learned then—and have continued to learn since—that whenever we make sacrifices to know our Heavenly Father, He will reveal His will for us and our lives. The happiness that comes from following His plan and His commandments is always worth the effort.

For Rick Asur, letting the Lord and His gospel prevail in his life helped him to find faith amidst fear.
Rick’s Taiwan-based construction company had just won a coveted billion-peso contract to handle a building project in Subic, Zambales, and the firm’s president had flown in all the way from company headquarters to celebrate with the employees. The company held a lavish hotel party, with food in abundance and drinks—especially hard drinks— flowing.
As was customary, the president would give a toast, with all the employees joining in raising glasses filled with wine. During previous events, Rick had already informed his immediate superiors of his Latter-day Saint beliefs and they had understood when he would politely decline servings of alcohol.
But this time it was different, very different. How could he decline raising a glass of wine when etiquette required that the biggest boss of all should be given a toast?
In the midst of all the feasting, Rick was filled with fear—tremendous fear. “I felt fear—fear of men, fear of offending the president, fear of telling my wife who is eight months pregnant with our third child that I might lose my job because of my belief in our Church.”
When the much-feared time came, Rick raised his glass… of mango juice. The company president looked at him, his eyes glaring. “Why?! Why?!” he raised his voice in an irate tone, as his one single employee who refused alcohol froze in silent terror.
“I had offended the most important man in that celebratory occasion,” Rick recalls, “and our president turned around and talked to my local boss.” By then he was expecting to be fired and asked to leave the company.
But in a moment, the president turned around again, raised his glass in another toast, and now smiling, commended: “Good Mormon, good Mormon!” Rick’s fortitude was rewarded; his immediate superiors knew he always stood for his faith and they told the president about it, who had become impressed.
“I will never forget that experience of a lifetime,” Rick shares. “We should always possess an increased level of spiritual strength and courage to stand up for what is right. I’m glad I made the right choice at that moment.”
“I the LORD speak brighteousness, I declare things that are right,” Rick quotes Isaiah 45: 19. “We must never be afraid of men,” he sums up, “and we must be courageous and stand up for what is right.”

My family joined the Church when I was seven years old, and it was because of my reading and valuing the Liahona that I met my husband.
When I receive the monthly issue of the magazine, I take it with me everywhere so I can read it. One day I was calmly reading it on the bus to work when a young man stopped at my side and asked, “Are you a member of the Church?” I didn’t quite trust him, so I answered yes, then asked him what stake he belonged to. (I assumed if he wasn’t a member he wouldn’t know what a stake was.) He told me the name of his stake, and we talked until we got off the bus.
Some time after this, a regional choir was organized to prepare for the visit of the prophet. That was when this young man and I started to see each other more frequently. Later we were married and went to the Guatemala City temple to be sealed. We’ve been married for almost three years. The gospel has given me the opportunity to have a very special husband, who is faithful in the Church. I am very happy to have the gospel in my life.Rebeca Sierra de Zelaya, Fraternidad Ward, Tegucigalpa Honduras Stake

The rain was beating down, and yet the buses seemed to keep coming. One after another they would materialize out of the wet, gray evening, roll up to the doors of the huge civic center, disgorge their occupants, and then join the long bus queue in the parking lot. Some were full of young men and others full of young women. As two buses pulled to the curb, girls’ faces peered out of the rain-streaked windows. In the haze they could see young men, teachers and priests, complete with suits, ties, haircuts, smiles, and umbrellas, waiting to meet each young lady as she stepped off the bus and to carefully escort her through the rain, up the steps, into the foyer of the civic center. Forty-eight buses, each of them with “Special Charter” on its destination sign, delivered their precious cargos.
Once inside, each young lady, in her beautiful and still-dry best dress, was again met by a handsome, smiling Aaronic Priesthood young man who offered her a formal welcome to the dinner-dance in a way that only a Virginia gentleman can do and then presented her with a long-stemmed carnation.
Many of the young people gasped as they walked into the auditorium and saw the hundreds of beautifully set tables filling the hall. “I didn’t know there were this many Mormons in the whole world,” said a Laurel, who is one of three Church members in her high school. It wasn’t long before all of the young people and their leaders were seated and enjoying a delicious dinner of roast top sirloin, French-cut green beans, Julienne carrots, Southern-fried chicken, potatoes au gratin, tossed salad, and a delightful assortment of desserts.
The evening began despite the weather, and it continued to get better. After dinner everyone went next door to the civic auditorium where they were entertained by a group of professional singers, dancers, and musicians. Once the program was over, the young people returned to the scene of the banquet, which had been transformed into a ballroom during their absence. Sister Elaine Cannon, General President of the Young Women, and Elder Julian Lowe, Regional Representative of the Capitol and Potomac regions, led everyone around the floor in a grand march, and then the young people danced until midnight.

My family and I learned that the Lord is willing to help us in money matters years ago, while I was in my medical training in Salt Lake City. Sister Davis and I would have our small children say their prayers out loud with us. Our oldest boy, Taylor, gave a rather brief prayer one evening that consisted only of asking the Lord for $10 so he could buy a toy workbench. We both wondered whether a prayer like that was really okay or not, but decided to leave it alone.

The next day, our 90-year-old neighbor from across the street, named Jim Downward, knocked on our front door. When Sonja opened the door, he handed her $10 and told her that it was for our little boy. She, of course, was surprised and amazed, and asked Jim why he had done this. He just answered that he didn't know, and then turned around and returned home. Through that experience, we were reminded that the Lord hears and answers his children's prayers, usually through the actions of others.

Many years ago, when I was called as a bishop, I had a desire for the bishopric to visit those who were less active in the Church and see if there was anything we could do to bring the blessings of the gospel into their lives.
One day we visited a man in his 50s who was a respected mechanic. He told me the last time he had been to church was when he was a young boy. Something had happened that day. He had been acting up in class and was being noisier than he should when his teacher became angry, pulled him out of class, and told him not to come back.
He never did.
It was remarkable to me that an unkind word spoken more than four decades earlier could have had such a profound effect. But it had. And, as a consequence, this man had never returned to church. Neither had his wife or children.
I apologized to him and expressed my sorrow that he had been treated that way. I told him how unfortunate it was that one word spoken in haste, and so long ago, could have the effect of excluding his family from the blessings that come from Church activity.
“After 40 years,” I told him, “it’s time the Church made things right.”
I did my best to do so. I reassured him that he was welcome and needed. I rejoiced when this man and his family eventually returned to church and became strong and faithful members. In particular, this good brother became an effective home teacher because he understood how something as small as an unkind word could have consequences that extend throughout a lifetime and perhaps beyond.

“She has only 24 hours to live, and even if she makes it, she will be paralyzed from the eyes down with no chance of recovery.” This was the bleak verdict doctors presented to my family in March 2004. At only 30 years of age, I had suffered a stroke that left me unable to speak or move. Yet in those dark, lonely hours, experiences from my previous calling as a Primary music leader gave me hope.
I have always loved music and felt strength in the words of the hymns. Yet prior to my stroke, when I was called to be the ward’s Primary music leader, I was very apprehensive. How was I supposed to make a difference in the children’s lives? My music education background had taught me to set goals in my teaching, so I decided to try to help the children feel the Spirit as we sang. When we sang songs such as “I Lived in Heaven,” I was astonished by the strong presence of the Holy Ghost in the room and by the children’s deep, thoughtful questions about the lyrics.
One of my favorite teaching methods was using American Sign Language (ASL). I found that the children understood the songs better when we discussed how the signs offered a visual representation of the words. I really enjoyed hearing the children sing and watching them sign “I’m Trying to Be like Jesus.” The message rang true in my heart, and I often felt that I was the benefactor of the Spirit that the children invited. I could sense my testimony growing, and I truly felt blessed by the Lord.
The blessings of my calling as Primary music leader were not limited to the Primary room, though. With the calling came the need to practice and play the music at home so I would be prepared each Sunday. As a result, my own children’s love for Primary music increased. The words of these songs brought a peaceful, calm spirit, comforting our children when they were hurt and lulling them to sleep each night. They insisted on listening to the Children’s Songbook CDs in the car—even if the ride was just a short one—and consequently began to memorize many of the songs.
However, it was not until after my stroke that I was aware of the far-reaching effects of this music in my life. With so much recent experience singing Primary songs, I found they were what kept me going during my trials. During my darkest hours I would pray and sing “A Child’s Prayer” in my head. As I cried out like the child of the first verse, “Heavenly Father, are you really there?” He would mercifully answer by reassuring me that I was not alone and that He was there, as stated in the second verse of the song. What a strength and reassurance!
During the recovery process, my husband and children came to my hospital room to hold family home evenings and frequently sang “Love Is Spoken Here.” That was the last song I had taught in Primary, and it was wonderful to hear my children sing it, knowing that I had planted those seeds. As they sang, I could relate to the mother in the song, praying on her knees (how I wished that I too could kneel!). Her pleas to Heavenly Father were also mine. I also shared the same gratitude for priesthood authority in my home. While I could not voice these thoughts to my family, the Primary song voiced these feelings for me.
It has been nearly four years since I suffered my stroke, and I have been able to regain far more abilities than the doctors expected I ever would. I have a small amount of movement in my right arm, which allows me to type on my computer and operate a powered wheelchair. I use a modified form of ASL—which I first learned in my Primary calling—to communicate. Because of this, I can still “sing” Primary songs with my children and express my feelings to family and friends.
Before my stroke I had always planned on singing at my children’s baptisms. In August 2005 my oldest child, Zach, was baptized. I was able to use my right hand to plunk out “When I Am Baptized” while my husband supported me at the piano bench. It felt good to express my deepest feelings about baptism through music and in a way that Zach would understand.
When I began serving as a Primary music leader, I did not think the calling would benefit me. Yet it plainly has! The Primary songs have blessed me with a better understanding of gospel principles, a strengthened testimony, the ability to communicate with my family, and the strength to persevere. The words and melody of Primary songs may be simple, but the message and the power of each one are clear.
We may not always understand why the Lord has given us a particular assignment. Even so, we must trust the Lord and put our faith in Him and His promptings. I am so grateful I was a Primary music leader before my stroke! The songs I can no longer sing can still communicate my feelings of the gospel to others. Every time I hear my children sing Primary songs, I know that their testimonies are being strengthened and that they share my love for the Lord and His gospel.

When he was just a little boy, Harold B. Lee started to climb over a fence to explore some old buildings in a neighbor’s yard. He heard a voice saying, “Harold, don’t go over there.” Looking around, he could see no one, and he realized that the Spirit was warning him of danger, so he didn’t go. He never learned what the danger might have been, but he always testified that the experience had taught him that the Lord knew who he was and was watching over him.

One day I joined my siblings at the table to do our family scripture study. My mom started our Come, Follow Me lesson, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was thinking about something else: Is Jesus really real?
In church and in Primary we learned that He is real, but I didn’t know for myself. I thought and thought, but I couldn’t find the answer.
After scripture study, I asked my mom, “Is Jesus real?”
“Good question,” she said. “How about you pray about it?”
“OK,” I said.
That night I said a prayer and asked, “Heavenly Father, is Your Son real?” Then I felt a really warm feeling inside. I knew God had answered my prayer. After that, I said a thank-you prayer to Heavenly Father for answering me. I know He listens to my prayers and that He will also listen to yours.

A personal bump in the road for me was when an employer for whom I had worked for several years, made a decision to select an outside candidate for an executive position for which I was a prime candidate. This news devastated me and the results of that decision and how I chose to deal with it reverberated through our family and resulted in unanticipated changes in our lives. An interesting comment I received from the consultants, whom I recommended we hire for this engagement, as we discussed the decision was, "Organizations Survive, People Don't" . Had my long term goals been tied only to achieving this position and the benefits associated with it, I would have taken this disappointment even harder. However, with my understanding who I was and the bigger picture, I fought through this and moved on.

Winters in Europe can feel even colder than usual when you’re riding a bike. One day right after Christmas while I was serving in the Belgium Brussels Mission, my companion and I rode our bikes past a lady also on a bicycle.
I immediately noticed she wore no gloves. On impulse, I asked her if she would like my gloves because I had received a new pair for Christmas. She hesitated and then talked about other things.
Finally, I took off my gloves, put them in her hands, and said, “Merry Christmas.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she hugged me. At that moment I felt a portion of the love Heavenly Father has for her, and I told her God loved her very much. She said her husband was sick and she had left the house to run some errands. I asked if we could come and see her, but she declined because of her husband’s illness.
I will never forget what I felt as I watched her ride off. I felt the sting of cold on my hands, but my heart was warm with the love of God.

Jeff Holt doesn’t believe in going against the grain. The 17-year-old Indio, California, priest was recently honored for his statewide, first-place woodwork project—a pool table. Jeff was a guest of the California Department of Education in Sacramento where he toured government buildings, watched the legislature in session, and was guest at a banquet.
The pool table, weighing well over a thousand pounds, was completely hand-fashioned and valued at $1,000. Surprisingly, it was Jeff’s first real woodworking project.
“As I got into it, the work went very slowly at first,” he recalls. “It turned out to be a lot more work than I thought—not only the design and planning and woodwork, but the sewing and upholstery and felt work involved.”
The four-month endeavor also became a family project as Jeff, his parents, and his three sisters embarked on all-day trips to Los Angeles for specially selected materials. The 24-hour marathon completion involved lots of sandwich-making by family members, as well as Jeff’s final perfectionist touches to the felt and the polished Philippine mahogany.
The ten men it took to lift the table and the thousands who saw it in California aren’t about to forget Jeff’s effort.
Back home there’s not a room large enough in the Holts’ home for the table, so Jeff has to be content with keeping it in the garage. With the table finished, he’s also had a chance to work on a few new projects, including a stereo console and a dinette set. He’s also taken a junior college class in upholstery while finishing high school.
Jeff holds down a part-time job to save money for a mission. After his mission he plans on studying to become an industrial education teacher or furniture maker.

I approached the doors to the church with one clear thought in my mind: “If I don’t find a friend at church today, I’m never coming back.” I had attended church with a friend a few times before, but this was the first time I attended as an investigator by myself and for myself. I felt I needed to join the Church, but I had several fears and concerns.
When I entered the church, I was greeted by a young adult with a big smile and a hearty handshake. He introduced himself as Dane McCartney. I had seen Dane before, when he had tried out for the college football team I played for. My anxiety vanished when he invited me to sit with him during the Church meetings. He also invited me to his parents’ home for dinner afterward. I never had a chance to feel alone that day. Dane and his family reached out to me and helped answer many of my questions. I joined the Church a few weeks later.
Had Dane just been friendly to me that day, I probably would have left church after sacrament meeting and given up, thinking that I had given it a shot but that church just wasn’t for me. While it’s certainly important to be friendly, being a friend involves more than just being nice. The McCartneys’ love and support was important to my conversion.

When I was 22 years old, I went to live with my grandmother to save money for college. I worked as a security guard, which meant that from 10:00 at night to 6:00 in the morning I walked around an empty office building, turning off coffee pots. My grandmother, however, thought I spent my nights carousing. It didn’t matter how many times I reminded her I was working; she thought I left the house every evening to hang out with all the wrong people and do all the wrong things. She worried about me constantly and told everyone she knew about her troubles. One morning I came home to find that our home teacher, Fred Van Wert, had put a sign in my bedroom saying, “Repent ye: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” I loved that sign. I stared at it every morning as I fell asleep and every night when I woke up. My grandmother thought it was a warning to turn me from my wicked ways. To me, it was just a reminder that she loved me.

Illustrations by Garth Bruner
The cast was blue. Amy had seen a cast on Lee’s arm at school, but she had never seen a cast on an elderly man’s arm. Just before stake conference started, Amy leaned forward and asked the man in the next row what happened to his arm.
The man smiled and turned around. “I have a sore muscle,” he said.
“Ouch,” said Amy. “My name’s Amy. What’s yours?”
“I’m Charlie Young,” he said and used his other hand to shake her hand. “And this is my wife, Nancy.”
Amy sat back in her seat. She knew Mom had brought paper and crayons in her bag, so Amy got them out and colored three pictures for Brother Young to make him feel better.
“Your pictures are beautiful,” Nancy said when Amy gave them to Brother Young.
“I think I feel a little better already!” Brother Young said.
In her prayers that night, Amy prayed that Brother Young’s arm would get better.
Six months later it was time for stake conference again. In the chapel Amy looked all around for Brother and Sister Young.
“There they are!” Mom said, pointing across the room. “Let’s go sit by them.”
“How’s your arm?” Amy asked Brother Young once they sat down.
“All better.” Brother Young held up his arm for her to see. No cast. “I put your pictures on my refrigerator. They helped me feel better. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Amy said.
Mom nodded and leaned forward. “Brother and Sister Young, we’d like it if you could come to Amy’s birthday party in a few weeks.”
“How old are you?” Brother Young asked.
“I’m turning eight. How old are you?” Amy asked.
“I’m 83. Say, if you’re turning eight, does that mean you’re getting baptized soon?”
“Yes!” Amy said. “Can you come to my baptism too? I’d like you to say the closing prayer.”
“I would be honored,” Brother Young said. “And Nancy and I would be happy to come to your party. We’ll have to think of a very special present for such a special friend.”
A few weeks later, Amy’s birthday finally arrived. Charlie and Nancy Young came, and so did lots of Amy’s school friends. When it was time to open presents, Mom had Amy cover her eyes while Dad brought something into the room.
“OK, you can look now,” Dad said.
Amy opened her eyes and saw that her first present was a brown guinea pig. “Wow, my first pet!” Amy said.
Amy’s second present was from Brother and Sister Young. It was a beautiful blanket that was almost as soft as the guinea pig.
“Yellow, purple, and orange. Those are my favorite colors! How did you know?” Amy asked.
“Your mom told me. I crocheted it myself as a surprise for you,” Brother Young said.
“Thank you!” Amy said, hugging Charlie and Nancy. “I have a surprise for you too, Brother Young. I’m going to name my guinea pig Charlie, after you.”
Brother and Sister Young laughed. “I’m sure you’ve found the very best name,” Sister Young said.
“And the very best friends,” Amy agreed.

Anna’s husband had died and she had a desire to take her little daughter Albertina to be with the Saints in America. Rasmus had gone already, and a number of their friends were preparing to leave too. Anna borrowed enough money for both their fares. And after a journey by boat and by train to Hamburg, Germany, Anna and Albertina boarded the sailing ship Humbolt for the trip across the ocean.
For more than six weeks they lived aboard ship in crowded quarters, where food was scarce and storms were plentiful. Finally, the company arrived in New York harbor. Anna was grateful for their safe arrival, but her little girl was crying for food and there was no money left to purchase any. In despair she took AIbertina into a nearby warehouse where they both knelt behind some large barrels and asked God to supply their needs. Stepping outside, they met the man who had been in charge of the company of emigrants. He explained that he had charged too much for Albertina’s fare and refunded part of the money—enough to provide food for the remainder of their journey!

A few months ago I joined a group of friends for a long awaited reunion. We had not seen each other for many years. Many of the group had changed dramatically: some had lost their hair, others were heavier, a few were even thinner. It was interesting to note, too, the apparent emotional and spiritual changes.
I was particularly intrigued by one woman. In high school she had been a very shy person, not particularly popular with the men. Now she appeared as a strikingly attractive, enthusiastic woman. Her spiritual and emotional were equally obvious. Throughout the evening I observed the interaction between this woman and her husband, and it soon became apparent why she reflected such a peaceful and beautiful countenance. She had been blessed with a partner who was positive and supportive, and both of them had developed through the years into extremely mature and happy people.

When I was 30, my friend asked me some questions that changed my life. He asked, “If you had all the money in the world, what would you do?” I gave some simple answers, like buy a house, look after my family, be self-reliant, etc.
Then he dug deeper and asked, “What if you had all those things and all the money in the world, then what would you do?” That’s when I realized that regardless of my marital status, I had a lot to give to the world. I thought about the things I could learn and share and the difference and impact I could make.

A boy sticks his tongue out at you. What should you do? This happened to Elder Wayne S. Peterson of the Seventy while he was waiting in his car. What do you think he did? Elder Peterson remembered how important it is to choose the right. He explains: “I waved at the little boy. He stuck his tongue out at me again. I smiled and waved again. This time he waved back. Soon he was joined … by a little brother and sister. [When their car] pulled away, my newfound friends continued to wave for as long as I could see them” (“Our Actions Determine Our Character,” Liahona, January 2002, 96).

Illustration by Anastasia Suvorova
While my husband and I attended college and for many years afterward, things were financially tight for us. Instead of buying gifts, I made them. One year I made Christmas tree skirts to give to my sisters and sisters-in-law.
I gathered material scraps and remnants that were green, red, white, or a combination of those colors. Most of the fabrics were not Christmas print. I cut them into simple squares and sewed them together to make the tree skirts. Each skirt had a variety of fabric types.
That year for Christmas, we traveled to my in-laws’ home. Sharon, my sister-in-law, lived nearby, so we went to visit her family and deliver our gifts.
To my dismay, under her tree I saw a beautifully pieced and quilted tree skirt made of Christmas-patterned materials and scalloped edges. Sharon was talented in sewing, quilting, appliquéing, tatting, weaving, and other skills. She had made the skirt earlier that year.
I could not help but compare her beautiful tree skirt to my simple one. I was embarrassed to give it to her. I told her I understood if she didn’t want to use it.
When we opened our gift from Sharon the following year, we were surprised that she had given us the tree skirt I had admired the year before. She had graciously accepted my simple gift and in turn had given us a much nicer gift.
After fighting a physical illness for 12 years, Sharon passed away when she was only 38. A few years ago, as I put her Christmas tree skirt around our tree and thought about her, the tree skirt became symbolic of the gift of the Atonement the Savior offers us. No matter how good we desire to be, we are all mortal, with flaws and weaknesses. We are imperfect, like the simple tree skirt I had given Sharon.
In comparison to the beauty of the Savior’s life, we will always fall short. But if we do our best to offer the Savior a broken heart and a contrite spirit, He in turn offers us the blessings of His beautiful Atonement. We receive something much greater than our gift to Him.
I am grateful for the special reminder of His Atonement the tree skirt has become for me.