Gospel Story Finder

My family and I went to an amusement park for family vacation. While we were walking in the park, I saw two one-dollar bills. I picked them up and gave them to a park worker. I felt happy inside that I was honest.

Nearly 30 years later, in August 1983, the Nuku‘alofa Tonga Temple was dedicated by President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), then a counselor in the First Presidency. I remember as a teenage girl how Latter-day Saints from the outer islands and Tongans from overseas came for the auspicious occasion. I was privileged to attend one of the dedicatory sessions and be part of the choir. I remember the warm feeling I felt when I heard President Hinckley speak, and I knew then that he was called of God. When we sang “Hosanna Anthem,” I understood too how much the Lord loves His children.
The Savior has always remembered the people on the isles of the sea, and on that day President McKay’s prophecy was fulfilled.

In fifth grade I did a science project designing pedestrian gates to make train crossings safer. I had to push myself to get my project done and to make it work. Several months later, after a girl was killed at a train crossing, I was asked to be interviewed by a newspaper and TV station about my project. I went to a city council meeting and spoke about how the city could use my ideas to make the train crossings safer. It took courage to stand up and talk to the city council members, but I learned that when you put time and effort into something, you can do things that seemed too hard at first.
James B., 14, Utah, USA

Even though the pioneers came to the Salt Lake Valley in 1847, it wasn’t until nearly 50 years later that Utah became a state. Recently, youth in wards and stakes all over Utah gave their state the anniversary gift of their time and hard work.
The youth in the Pleasant View Utah Stake were no exception. They spent a hot summer Saturday cleaning up the 21st Street Pond in Ogden. After a big breakfast, the youth went to work building a railroad-tie barrier, painting a storage building, cleaning the grounds, landscaping and painting an office, constructing and installing park benches, pouring concrete pads, painting and installing picnic tables, removing an old fence, constructing two wheelchair ramps, and doing general cleanup around the pond.
It took most of the day, but the youth say they felt good giving something back to the place they call home. After all, how often do you turn 100?

When I was in the Reserve Officers’ Training Corps in college, our commandant used to tell us, “Obey first before you complain.” When I joined the Church, I said to myself that I would do the same thing. Whenever I am asked to comment on the topic of obedience, I explain how this philosophy has blessed my life.

Catalina Island—one thinks of boating and beaches and clambakes and sunbathing. But the vacation island played quite a different sort of role recently when it served as the backdrop for the North Hollywood California Stake Youth Conference.
The conference involved 290 young people, leaders, stake officials, and special guests in three days of spiritual seminars and just plain fun.
At a place on the island called Camp Fox, the stake housed itself in cabins and campsites named for books in the Bible. The camp itself became a sort of mini-community for the three days of the conference, including in its organization a dining hall, hospital, and a general store. “Professional” citizens included an official photographer, nurse, and lifeguard.
The tightly organized and well-run conference resulted from the careful planning of a seven member stake youth conference steering committee, which performed under the advisement of the stake Aaronic Priesthood MIA leaders.
“Who am I?”, “Whence came I?” and “Where am I going?” were the seminar themes of the conference. Each of the three special guest speakers focused on one of the important identity questions.
The conference weekend had its light-hearted moments, too. A concert called “Avalon Avalanche” featured the talents of local BYU alumni and the “Camp Fox Trot” dance the following night coaxed participants into best “duds.”
On Sunday morning a fast and testimony meeting was held in the amphitheater of the camp. That morning the young people bore testimonies of gratitude for their three days together on Catalina.

A little girl living in a place for homeless children earned displeasure from annoyed attendants by depositing a note in a tree limb which could be reached from outside the institution. The apprehended little rulebreaker was quickly fetched to the superintendent, who opened the note which read, “To whoever finds this, I love you.”

The young women spent time working with their parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles searching for family information. All this time spent sharing family history stories and collecting names helped them strengthen their family relationships. For Madison F., 14, it became a family project. Her mother says, “This project helps the whole family. We knew very little about my husband’s side of the family and have had fun finding and reading through the names on his side of the tree, because most of them are people we had never heard of.”

When I was a high councilor, I had what became a very cherished experience with private prayer. In our first meeting with our newly sustained stake president, he was stern and demanding—quite a contrast with the loving and gentle manner of his predecessor. Several of us struggled with our negative reactions to his style. During that meeting, he assigned me to speak in an upcoming priesthood session of a ward conference. As he did so, an idea for a theme flashed through my mind, and I jotted myself a note. But later, when I prepared the talk, I forgot the note and the prompting.
As I gave the talk, a depressing feeling of failure troubled me. Afterward, when I was alone, I knelt down and asked the Lord why I had failed after trying so hard. An impression came to me that I had given the wrong talk. Then I remembered the earlier impression and realized that I hadn’t followed it. I told the Lord I was sorry and, feeling downcast, went off to the sacrament meeting session of ward conference.
During the opening hymn, I felt an urge to pray again. I asked the Lord to give me another chance and told him that I would give the right talk this time. I was mystified about why I was so bold, because I knew the agenda for the conference was full and that there was no chance for me to speak. But during the intermediate hymn, I noticed the stake president lean over and whisper something to the bishop. After the hymn, the bishop announced, “The stake president would like to have Brother Bachman briefly bear his testimony.”
With considerable emotion, I explained what had just transpired and testified of the inspiration of our new stake president. The eyes of several of the other high councilors sitting in the congregation glistened with tears, as did mine. Then I related my little talk as I had promised the Lord I would and sat down, almost in shock at the events of the past two hours.
During the closing hymn, I was still basking in the spirit of it all. Suddenly, a phrase of the hymn swept out of the air above the congregation and pierced my consciousness: “God hears my secret prayer” (Hymns, 1985, number 144). My tears again flowed freely.
That was the beginning of one of the most wonderful priesthood relationships I have ever experienced in the Church. For four years, I enjoyed sitting at the feet of this great man and learning about inspiration, leadership, and Church government.

In the time before mission presidents and their wives begin their mission assignments a lot of spiritual and temporal preparation takes place. Mission presidents are generally called more than six months in advance, but occasionally that preparation time is compressed. Brent and Anne Scott of Eden, Utah, USA, were called to supervise the Canada Toronto Mission just a week before the mission presidents’ seminar and two months before they were to begin their service.
Between telling friends and family and trying to make arrangements for their home, they studied manuals, listened to CDs, and made other spiritual preparations. But they said their greatest preparation was the seminar at the MTC.
“It’s just a spiritual immersion of knowledge,” President Scott said. “To be with a group of people who have [sacrificed to serve the Lord] and to be taught by prophets, seers, and revelators … has absolutely been one of the greatest experiences of our lives.”
Over the four-day seminar in June, mission presidents and their wives were spiritually fed with messages from the First Presidency and several members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
“As we listened to them, as they taught us, [we felt] that the Lord was there, that He cares, that this is His work, that these are His servants, and that we have the privilege of going out and representing our Savior,” Sister Scott said.

Recently my husband, Mel, and I met a volunteer tour guide named Mollie Lenthal as we visited a museum in Australia. We found out that Mollie, a lovely woman in her 70s, has no children and has never married. She is an only child, and her parents have been deceased for many years. Her closest relatives are two cousins who live on another continent. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with the Spirit testifying to me, almost as if Heavenly Father were speaking: “Mollie is not alone! Mollie is my daughter! I am her Father! She is a very important daughter in my family, and she is never alone!”

One of the most eagerly anticipated activities for the youth of the Oakton Virginia Stake is their yearly missionary day. On that day, they each pair up with an adult, many times a parent, and go tracting locally. This year, several baptisms resulted.
But it doesn’t just happen overnight—a lot of preparation is required. The youth fast and have special talks with their stake president. They’re also expected to be familiar with the missionary discussions. But most important of all, the participants are asked to set up appointments with their non-LDS friends and acquaintances.
In addition to baptisms, the day inspires stronger testimonies and stronger commitment to missionary work. “I learned a lot,” said Jamie Decker, 16, of the Franklin Ward. “It has really helped me realize that I do want to go on a mission.

Some 30 years ago, while working in the corporate world, some business associates and I were passing through O’Hare Airport in Chicago, Illinois. One of these men had just sold his company for tens of millions of dollars—in other words, he was not poor.
As we were passing a newspaper vending machine, this individual put a quarter in the machine, opened the door to the stack of papers inside the machine, and began dispensing unpaid-for newspapers to each of us. When he handed me a newspaper, I put a quarter in the machine and, trying not to offend but to make a point, jokingly said, “Jim, for 25 cents I can maintain my integrity. A dollar, questionable, but 25 cents—no, not for 25 cents.” You see, I remembered well the experience of three towels and a broken-down 1941 Hudson.
A few minutes later we passed the same newspaper vending machine. I noticed that Jim had broken away from our group and was stuffing quarters in the vending machine. I tell you this incident not to portray myself as an unusual example of honesty, but only to emphasize the lessons of three towels and a 25-cent newspaper.

During this trying time, the scriptures were a vital anchor for our spiritual health and progress. Although we didn’t read them together every day, they were interwoven into our daily life and conversations. We turned to them during controversies or conflicts, for confirmation of our choices, and for direction in our lives. After discussing feelings or concerns, we would often share a verse of scripture or part of a conference talk to fortify, validate, or comfort each other. Our well-worn sets of the standard works became almost an extension of our hands and hearts.
One evening as I crawled into bed, I reached for my scriptures and opened them but found I couldn’t focus my eyes to read. After a full day of school, two jobs, homework—and my usual four hours of sleep—I was quite literally out of energy. Calling to my daughter who was up finishing her homework, I asked her to read my scriptures to me. What a special moment was the sweet ministering of that beloved daughter. I don’t recall what she read, but I will never forget her love and tenderness as she tucked me into bed that night—as I had done so many times for her.

Synthesizing elements from all four Peruvian versions of the white god tradition into one composite description, an interesting portrait of the god Viracocha emerges. He was a creator god who came to visit the men he had created, to instruct and organize them. With white skin and a medium to large build, he wore a white tunic girded at the waist that hung down to his feet. Past his youth, he was slender and had white hair. When he walked, he carried a staff and a book in his hands, and sometimes he was seen with a crown on his head. He demonstrated supreme authority, yet spoke with love and humility, calling everyone his sons and daughters.
Appearing long before the time of the Inca empire, the coming of this Viracocha constituted the single most important tradition of the Andean Indians. For many days prior to his coming, the sun was darkened and the people suffered tremendous privations from lack of sunlight. Only after intense praying and supplication was the light restored, after which Viracocha appeared. Everywhere he went in the mountains of Peru, he performed miracles. He lowered the hills and raised up the level places to become mountains. He drew water from rocks, gave life to animals and men, and walked on water. He healed the sick with only a touch of his hand, and spoke all the diverse languages of the region with equal fluency. Viracocha cursed one city so it was covered by a lake and all the inhabitants drowned. A hill he cursed, and it was consumed by fire from heaven. He gave commandments to men that they love their neighbor and have charity, and he chastised the people for their wrongdoings. He gave them a copy of his discourse, written on a stick, then reviewed it with them for emphasis. Speaking to a large congregation, he told them of events to come, warning them that some would come in his name, falsely claiming to be the Viracocha. Then he promised to send them true messengers and servants in future ages to teach and support them. Having no earthly possessions, Viracocha went off into the ocean after concluding his visit, and the people never heard from him again.

It’s understandable. There are hundreds of paintings and sculptures in a museum, and we’re busy people. So we hurry through and take in as much as we can. Ironically, driven by our fear of missing something, we end up missing the very purpose of the art—the emotions and thoughts the artists wanted us to experience. We pass our eyes over every piece in the museum, but we truly see none of them. Then we leave the museum exhausted and uninspired. We may even wonder what people see in art anyway—convinced, perhaps, that art is for the highly educated, not for everyone.

My parents have taught my brother and me the importance of reading scriptures. To help me be reverent during the sacrament and think of Jesus, I read my scriptures.
Peyton B., age 8, Georgia, USA

I used to have low self-esteem until I realized that people do like you just the way you are. I tried to be somebody that I wasn’t. I wanted to please others so they would like me. It didn’t work. I didn’t make any more friends either. Then I decided that I would act like myself to see what would happen. I ended up being happier, and I also made many more friends. I learned to accept the person I am. People do not like fakes. Accept the person you are, and others will accept you also.
Tammi Taylor, 19Salem, Oregon

The process of bringing to light the Book of Mormon cannot be compared to any literary work by any author in human history. We could say that it is a book that was shepherded by the very finger of our God. During His visit to the ancient Americas, the Lord asked Nephi to bring the records that they were keeping and place them before Him. Jesus then looked at them and commanded that certain events and passages be added.5 “And [the Savior] saith: These scriptures, which ye had not with you, the Father commanded that I should give unto you; for it was wisdom in him that they should be given unto future generations.”6 I feel everlasting gratitude to belong to those future generations. I am a member of the Church thanks to the Book of Mormon. I will never forget my feelings when, as a young boy in Uruguay, I read this sacred book for the very first time. I did not have to read much in 1 Nephi to experience such a joy that it cannot be expressed with words. It was as if the book was permeated with the Spirit of the Lord and made me feel closer to God.
These promises bring us joy now and in our future. Once I received a testimony of the Book of Mormon, the natural feeling that followed was a desire to apply the teachings of the book by making covenants. I made covenants by being baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. These covenants, made through priesthood ordinances, along with knowledge gained from the Book of Mormon changed my life.

—The desk clerk at the hotel had been studying with the missionaries for months, but few of those at the conference knew it. He thought he would watch and find out if Saints really practice the principles of the gospel.
“What I’ve seen here with these kids has really made me think,” he said, noting that he was particularly impressed when a young lady turned in a $20 bill she found in the hall.” A lot of people would have just kept it,” he said. “It’s nice to see honesty for a change.”