Gospel Story Finder

A fifteen-year-old Korean boy, a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, used his allowance each week to buy newspapers. Then he and his friends sold them on street corners in Seoul, giving the money to a classmate who couldn’t remain in school without this financial help. He wanted to know how it felt to be a Good Samaritan rather than just having an intellectual understanding of the lesson he had studied in the scriptures.

But now, years later, I received a tape recording in the mail and learned the story of the Desmurs’ conversion to the Church.
About a month after my last visit to their home in 1964 Mrs. Desmurs was polishing shoes for the family one Sunday morning and talking with her husband about the gospel. He was totally opposed to the Book of Mormon, as he had been from the beginning. She mused, “I don’t know, but we might just find out some day that the book is true.” At that moment, she suddenly heard my voice speaking to her, bearing testimony of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. At first she felt fear, but that was suddenly replaced by a feeling of great peace and joy. During the next weeks she thought often of her experience and felt the witness of the Spirit.
Years passed; the family moved from their home to an apartment in another part of Versailles. In 1970—six years after my contact with them—two elders knocked on their door. The first thing Mrs. Desmurs told them about was the visits of the sister missionaries years before, and about the spiritual experiences she had had since then. The elders explained to her that it had been the witness of the Holy Ghost. She said she knew that was true, and she wanted to join the Church. But her baptism had to wait for a change of heart in her husband.
One day when their daughter was ill with appendicitis, Mr. Desmurs had gone straight to the hospital from work. Surprised that his wife was not there with the girl, he went home to find her talking with the two elders. In anger he told her she had better concern herself with her daughter before she worried about religion. He tore up the Bible of one of the elders and put them out of the house. Then he took his wife back to the hospital to see their daughter.
The next day Mrs. Desmurs chastised him, saying, “Those missionaries aren’t rich, you know. They come over here at their own expense. You ought at least to pay for that Bible.” So Mr. Desmurs went to the missionary’s address, paid them for the book, and told them he never wanted to see them again.
Yet over the next few months his heart softened, and he allowed his wife to resume her studies; she and the three oldest children were baptized in 1971. He began to attend church, stopped some bad habits, and finally in 1972 followed his family into the waters of baptism. He later contacted the missionary whose Bible he had torn, an elder who had gone home from his mission with few baptisms and one ripped Bible among his souvenirs, and who received this unexpected news with tears of joy.

While the waterfall project was underway, Brother Kamauoha challenged the young girls to make a path that would lead people from the village to the waterfall. They planned one pathway, but upon inspection they could see it wasn’t right, and so Brother Kamauoha challenged them to try another one. This still wasn’t any good. They reported to him, and he confirmed that it wasn’t right and told them that the reason it wasn’t right was because they hadn’t tried hard enough. “The third time they did their best, and the planned path was perfect. It curved properly, they had avoided the boggy spots, and the entire path was ideal,” he said.
Every evening after school the girls carried baskets of pebbles up from the river and placed them on the path. Each of them would carry 25 to 40 baskets of rocks each evening, and with everyone working, it took only a few months to complete.
Then the boys and girls brought young trees from the mountains to plant beside the trail. They also brought orchids, tree ferns, and other plants to make the trail beautiful. And they named their trail Losa (Rose) Lane.

President Harold B. Lee told of calling a patriarch. He and the stake president had gone to the man’s home. He had been out with his sons on the welfare farm all day and was tired and weary and covered with grime.
President Lee said, “I made him more weary when I told him what it was I had come for—that he was to be called as the patriarch to that stake.”
After the morning session of conference, where the man had borne a remarkable testimony, they went to a basement office.
The stake president’s wife was present and wrote to President Lee: “As you walked over to put your hands on [his] head, I thought to myself, He is a man with whom we socialize. We have gone on trips with him, to dances. … Now part of his responsibility is to declare the lineage from which each one has come in these blessings. He hasn’t been a student of ancient languages—how is he going to know?
“… You walked over and put your hands on his head, and a light came from behind you and went right through you and into him. And I thought to myself, Isn’t that a strange coincidence that the sunlight has come in just at that moment. And then I realized that there was [no window,] no sunlight. I was witnessing the answer to my question. … That light came from somewhere beyond Brother Lee and went through Brother Lee into this patriarch. Then I knew where he was going to get that information—by the revelations of Almighty God.”

My dad took my sister, Cathy, and me to a daddy-daughter campout. We had lots of fun. At night we listened to stories and sang songs around a big bonfire. We roasted marshmallows and ate s’mores before going to bed. Cathy and I woke up in the middle of the night because there was a big rainstorm. I said a prayer that our tent would not blow down like it had at our last campout. When I woke up in the morning, the tent was still standing. I thanked Heavenly Father.Susan D., age 7, Virginia

Despite the cost of the trip, Brother Mateo; his wife, Altagracia; and three of their children were sealed in the temple in 2001. Since then they have sacrificed to save enough to visit the temple at least twice each year.
The work and the sacrifices, both physical and spiritual, are worth it to Brother Mateo.
“It’s not hard when you know what the purpose is,” he says. “We’re fighting for something more sublime than wordly things.”

Suddenly, the cars arrived, and the hall of the stake house was crowded with boys in straw hats covered with cookies, and girls in neon yellow, green, and orange skirts with big bows holding giant candy bars as hats. And just as quickly, they gathered in a classroom for one more run-through of their song—“Buy Me Chocolate,” which helps explain the cookies and candy bars.
Then another group walked by, all dressed in black and white with red-checkered napkins. They were humming something that sounded vaguely operatic but had tongue-twisting lyrics. Another group had swatches of cloth with an African print. They were going over some steps in a dance.
The cultural hall of the Salt Lake Hunter Stake was filled wall to wall with families from nine wards, all waiting to see each ward’s performance in the Young Women and Young Men Choral Festival. Every ward had two songs to perform: one serious song and one fun song from another country that could include some dance steps. The wards chose from religious songs that have been printed in the New Era.
As each well-rehearsed ward came on stage, the energy began to build. Everyone was ready to sing with volume and enthusiasm. But when the Mapusaga (Samoan) Ward came on (they were the ones with the chocolate song), the Caribbean rhythm had everyone moving. After that, there was no stopping them. Each ward put everything they had into their performances before an appreciative audience.
What was the best thing about holding a choral festival? “The practices were fun,” said Ashley Auva‘a of the Mapusaga Ward, “especially when we got into it. The best part was being with friends and family and dressing up and dancing and having fun.”
Kiyana Aiono said, “We did our costumes together for a Young Women activity.” Ashley added, “They look like fabric, but they’re really plastic tablecloths, so they were inexpensive. And they looked great on stage.”
Vini Purcell said, “It was fun to get to know a song from a different country.”
The teens in the Hunter 18th Ward felt the same way. They really liked learning a song from another culture. Their song had African origins. Kori Coombs said, “When I heard it I thought it was a great song. I liked the beat. Then we added some choreography, and we were grooving.”
They also really liked their serious song. Jaynie Baker said, “I like the lyrics that say, ‘Our trust remains in Thee.’ It was a good song.”
Working together during practices, it seems, was everyone’s favorite part of the festival. The Hunter 25th Ward had a song with complicated words all about pasta. The Young Women leader worked out some actions to help everybody remember the words. Laura Buckner confesses, “I thought it was the worst song in the world at first, but it ended up being fun. And yes, every time we have pasta for dinner, I just start singing it.”
Their serious song left a similar impression. Eric Manwill said, “Every day I catch myself singing ‘Behold, the Field Is White’ in my head”—a good choice for a young man preparing for a mission.
The printed program identified which Personal Progress value experiences or Duty to God requirements participation in the festival helped fulfill. Singing in a program even fills a requirement for the music merit badge.
Why have a choral festival? The youth in the Hunter stake now know it means some fun times at practices and an even better time at the performance. And the audience agreed.

About two months after my baptism, I was crossing over a highway on a walkway bridge in an area named Posto Dudu, in the city of Parnamirim in Brazil. I was heading to a bus stop on the opposite side.
As I crossed, I passed a lady who was clinging to a safety railing. Her head was down and her body was shaking. People seemed afraid of her when they passed her. I thought she might have mental problems.
After I passed her, I heard a voice as clear as any human voice that said, “Go back!” I didn’t see anyone near me and thought I was hearing things.
I walked a little farther when I heard the voice again: “Go back!” I thought about returning but kept walking, wondering if the lady might hurt me if I went back to her.
When I reached the other side of the walkway, I heard the voice for the third time: “Go back!” I stopped, remembering that I had recently received the gift of the Holy Ghost and the blessing to receive guidance from the Spirit. I hurried back to the lady.
“Excuse me, but can I help you?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said with tears in her eyes. “I need to get to the other side to catch my bus, but I can’t make it because I’m afraid of heights. I have been standing here for a long time without knowing what to do.”
“I will help you,” I told her. “Hold my arm, close your eyes, and together we will reach the other side.”
She tightly held on to my arm, closed her eyes, and slowly walked with me to the other side. She said she had been praying for a long time that God would help her cross. Then she thanked me and asked God to bless me. After she caught her bus, I thought for several minutes about what had just happened.
“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me,” the Savior said (John 10:27). That day I learned that one of the best ways to follow Him and feel His love is to heed the voice of the Spirit when it calls us to help others.

Johnny was unhappy. There was no one to play with him. Todd had gone to visit his grandmother. Scott was on a fishing trip with his father. Mother was in the kitchen making bread. Baby was asleep in his room.
It had rained yesterday, but now the sun had broken through the clouds. Johnny was anxious to go outside.
“May I go out to play?” Johnny asked Mother.
“Yes,” she answered, “but be back in time for lunch.”
Johnny pulled on his shoes and ran outside. He skipped down the sidewalk to a field of tall grass. Everything smelled fresh and new after the rain.
When Johnny reached the edge of the field, he turned a cartwheel and rolled to the bottom of the grassy slope.
Lying in the tall grass, Johnny pretended he was in a jungle.
Then he imagined he was in a forest in the mountains. Finally Johnny pretended he was a small worm squirming through the grass.
But playing all alone wasn’t much fun.
Johnny looked up at the sun. It seemed to be dancing through great white puffs of clouds.
The wind shaped the clouds into an elephant with big floppy ears and a long trunk.
Behind the elephant Johnny saw a fat bear dancing along with the sun, a boat, two fish, a dog, and a car.
The car reminded Johnny that Daddy would soon be home for lunch. Johnny looked up again at the sky. The car in the clouds was gone, but he could see Daddy’s car parked by his house.
Mother was putting the baby in the high chair as Johnny came into the house. The kitchen was full of good warm smells.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Mother smiled. “Were you lonely all by yourself in the field?”
“No,” Johnny answered happily, thinking about all the things in the clouds he had seen floating through the sky. “I found some new friends today!”

Ellie loved hugs. Hugs from Dad. Hugs from Grandma and Grandpa. Hugs from Mom. Hugs made her feel warm. And safe. And happy.
That’s why Ellie hugged Mom during church. She loved sitting on Mom’s lap. Mom always held her close.
Then sacrament meeting ended. It was time for Primary. Ellie loved Primary. She was a big girl now. Three years old! She even had her own scriptures!
But today Ellie just wanted to keep hugging Mom forever.
Mom carried Ellie down the hall. In the Primary room, Mom sat Ellie down on a chair.
“Can I go with you?” Ellie said.
“No,” Mom said. Her voice was kind. “You need to be in your class,” she said. “And I need to be in my class.”
Mom kissed Ellie’s cheek. Then she walked out the door.
Ellie felt tears rolling down her cheeks.
She thought about Mom holding her. Mom always held her when they read the Book of Mormon. They usually read with the family. Sometimes Ellie and Mom read by themselves.
Ellie picked up her Book of Mormon. Inside was a picture of Jesus.
Ellie closed the book and hugged it. She felt like she was hugging Jesus. She felt warm. And safe. And happy. It was the best hug ever!
What helps you feel better when you are sad?

In the warmth of late morning on July 7, 1972, President Harold B. Lee walked purposefully from the Salt Lake Temple toward the Church Office Building and the newsmen waiting for his first press conference as the 11th President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He had just been set apart for his new calling by Elder Spencer W. Kimball, then President of the Council of the Twelve. Upon assuming the leadership of the Church, and flanked by his two newly called counselors, President N. Eldon Tanner and President Marion G. Romney, President Lee said, “The greatest message that one in this position could give to the membership of the Church is to keep the commandments of God for therein lies the safety of the Church and the safety of the individual. There could be nothing that I could say that would be a more powerful or important message today.” (New Era, August 1972, p. 13.)

In 2019 I was called to the Philippines Quezon City Mission. Serving there was like living a dream—I’d always loved the Filipino culture and really wanted to learn Tagalog. But my missionary experience also taught me the true nature of our heavenly parents, and when I returned home to Samoa last year, I felt a strong desire to see my family sealed to each other for time and all eternity.
We have some work to do before we can achieve that goal. My parents are still new to the gospel and continue to learn. My brother is still finding his path, exploring if a mission is in his future. Fiasili and I continue to persevere. We are determined to “press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men” (2 Nephi 31:20), as we strive to help deepen our family’s conversion.

But did you ever stop to think that some of the smaller undomesticated creatures of the earth may be equally anxious to get home again? And because of their very smallness, their journeys may be very arduous ones. An experiment conducted by Martin Thornhill of England with a common toad is a case in point. First, Thornhill took the toad from its favorite lily pad at the side of his garden pool and placed it in a hedge about fifty yards away. Shortly afterward the toad was back on its lily pad. He then carried the toad one-fourth mile to a friend’s garden. Within a week it had returned. Marking it with a harmless red paint spot, he transported it a mile distant. In less than ten days the toad had returned. His last experiment was to deposit it by a stream three miles away. The persistent amphibian doggedly hopped across country and through town to settle itself many days later on its favorite lily pad.

The first time I passed the sacrament as a new deacon, I felt a great feeling of peace. I remember thinking to myself that I was doing something the Savior had done long ago when He blessed and administered the sacrament (see Luke 22:19–20; 1 Corinthians 11:24–25). I realized that the priesthood I had just received allowed me to pass the sacrament. I was acting on the Savior’s behalf! It was a wonderful feeling, and I promised myself that I would keep myself clean and pure so that I could always use the priesthood to serve others.

Soccer may be Raphael’s sport of choice, but volleyball is most definitely his game. And he is really good at it. He is so good, in fact, that he played in the final game of the high school volleyball nationals. “That,” Raphael says, “was one of the three happiest days of my life.”
It was a friend who introduced Raphael to volleyball. In 2001 a teammate on his soccer team in Recife pointed out that some private high schools offer volleyball scholarships. At the time, Raphael was trying for a soccer scholarship but found his physical assets kept him from playing at the level the coaches wanted. But he seemed to have an unexplored talent for volleyball. “So I played volleyball until I got good at it,” he says. He became so good that he was able to secure a full scholarship to a private high school.
At school, he played in the Recife city championships, then in the regionals in northeast Brazil, one of the most important tournaments in the country. But his success didn’t end there. Not long afterward, he was asked to join the Pernambuco State team to prepare for the national high school tournament. His team won almost all its games, losing only in the final match. He has the medals to show for it.

“My father was a loving man. He thought everything I did was marvelous. You can imagine what that does to build confidence in a young girl! There was love, love, love. He gave it to everyone, the stranger included. He had a marvelous personality, full of humor. He came home with fun jokes every night. There was much laughter around our kitchen table, where the heat from the furnace attracted us until the wallpaper was worn out in spots. I became comfortable praying to my Heavenly Father very early because I felt my earthly father and my Heavenly Father must be very much alike.
“When daddy prayed, he always blessed everyone up and down the street by name. Often I couldn’t follow what he said because the words were unfamiliar and the style unlike our comfortable conversations. He’d say things like, ‘Father, we thank thee that all is in accord and that the personnel of this family is complete and accounted for.’
“Once I visited his office and heard him dictate letters while I waited for a ride up the hill. That was it! His prayers were like he was giving dictation. That night when he prayed, I risked the wrath of heaven and sneaked a look at daddy’s face. I was startled. He was weeping! The language he spoke was formal like his letters to important people, but the tears running down his cheeks spoke volumes about the tenderness of his heart.”

Sometimes our burdens even increase to give us needed experience. I remember an occasion when I was a bishop. There were several members in the ward going through some dire problems; I felt a heavy responsibility on my shoulders. One night I poured out my soul to the Lord, supplicating Him to take from my shoulders the burden that weighed so heavily on me.
It was a special prayer. He heard and answered it. A few weeks later I was released as bishop and called to preside over a large stake.

When I was called to serve as a bishop, our six young children made sacrament meetings challenging for my wife, Cristin, who had to manage them alone while I sat on the stand. As you may imagine, our children were often less than reverent. Noticing her situation, two members of our ward, John and Debbie Benich, began sitting with her each Sunday to help. Their kindness continued for years, and they became surrogate grandparents to our family. Like the Lord, these disciples had noticed the unspoken need and acted in love—a prominent sign of their discipleship.

Horace Mann, that great educator somewhere back in the time of Abraham Lincoln, told how he was the speaker at the dedication of a great boys’ school, and in his talk he said, “This school has cost hundreds of thousands of dollars; but if this school is able to save one boy, it is worth all that it cost.” One of his friends came up to him at the close of the meeting and said, “You let your enthusiasm get away with you, didn’t you? You don’t mean what you said that if this school, costing hundreds of thousands of dollars, were to save just one boy, it was worth all that it cost? You surely don’t mean that.”
Horace Mann looked at him and said, “Yes, my friend. It would be worth it if that one boy were my son; it would be worth it.”

Parker was helping Daddy plant a garden. He wished his brother Eric was here to help. But Eric was far away on a mission.
“I’ll never be big like Eric,” Parker said. “How can I go on a mission like him?”
“Don’t worry,” Daddy said. “You’ll grow.”
Daddy handed Parker some pumpkin seeds. He helped Parker plant them.
“These little seeds will grow into big pumpkins?” Parker asked.
“If you take good care of them,” Daddy said.
Parker came out to look at the garden every day. He watered it, and soon tiny sprouts came up. The leaves got bigger. Parker carefully pulled up weeds.
By fall his pumpkin plants had grown. And there were big orange pumpkins!
Parker grabbed Daddy to show him. “You took great care of your pumpkin plants!” Daddy said.
“Yup! And I’ll take good care of me, so I can get big too.” Parker grinned. “And when I’m big, I can go on a mission just like Eric!”