Gospel Story Finder

The day that changed everything for the Quashigah family was the day that Vincent attended a funeral in Kpong for a relative. The funeral was held at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Vincent was not familiar with the Church and did not recognize it as the same church that Esinam’s Book of Mormon had come from. However, he was deeply impressed with the dignity, peace, and simplicity of the funeral service, and he promised himself that he would find out more.
The following week he searched online for anything he could learn about the Church. His search was directed by the Spirit, and he felt a peaceful satisfaction as he learned exciting teachings and principles. He felt the Spirit bear witness to him of these things, found the location of the nearest chapel, and attended church meetings the first Sunday following the funeral. After asking for membership, he met with the full-time missionaries (Elders Tameklo and Ntambwe) and was baptized three weeks later. His family attended the baptism and Sabbath meetings the following day.
Brother Quashigah subsequently received the priesthood and was able to baptize Sister Quashigah and the eligible children after they had met with the missionaries. Sister Quashigah is quick to point out, with a smile, that the family became members of the same church that she attempted to introduce to them when she was given that first Book of Mormon several months earlier.

I used to have a hard time reading, and I was really self-conscious about it. I wouldn’t read in class because it was hard for me to sound out some of the words, and I was afraid to read out loud because the kids in school would tease me because I couldn’t understand what I was reading. It was hard for me to make friends, too, because my family moved around a lot. Then my family moved to Oregon, USA.
One of my new neighbors quickly became one of my best friends. He encouraged me to go to church. The guys there didn’t tease me like the kids in school did. They took it upon themselves during church to help me read the scriptures. They spent the time to help me learn to read the words I couldn’t sound out. Slowly, they gave me the courage to read out loud. From that day on I would read even if it would take half the class time for me to read what the teacher asked me to read.
I was blessed with these great guys who took me under their wings. They didn’t have to do this for me, and they could’ve stayed silent, but following the Spirit, they made a choice to help me and made a difference in my life. We too can make a difference in others’ lives; we just have to be willing to listen to the Spirit to guide us to those people who are in need of help.

Hup, Twop, Threp, Four! I was in the army, alright. Hurry up and wait, a G.I. haircut, oversized fatigues, and only three days out. I was lonely already—demoralized to boot.
Imagine my joy when, while reading my newly issued, olive-drab, miniature Book of Mormon, I was approached by a nice looking fellow soldier.
“Hi! You a Mormon?”
“Yes! You too?”
“No, but I have always wanted to talk to a Mormon. You mind if we talk?”
My heart skipped two beats at the prospect. I was a new, green convert to the Church myself and could hardly wait for the opportunity to share.
“What do you want to know?”
But after a few minutes I wished we had never begun to discuss the Church. This guy turned out to have a master’s degree in philosophy from Columbia University. Since I was no match for him, he proceeded to take me apart, morsel by morsel.
“You can’t possibly prove that the God you believe in really exists, can you?”
“Well … no, but …”
“If God is really as good, if he is really as concerned with all people as you tell me he is, how can he allow all the suffering, wars, hunger, etc., that exist in the world?”
“Well, it … doesn’t have …”
My answer drowned in the laughs of my fellow barracks mates who had cautiously gathered around us. It was probably just as well since my answer was inadequate anyway. In less than half an hour, after I had been picked clean, I returned to my bunk to lick my wounds, stunned, bitterly resolving that this wasn’t going to happen to me again.

As an Aaronic Priesthood young man, I can remember the excitement I felt as a newly ordained deacon. I looked forward to being able to fulfill my priesthood assignments. As a young Primary boy, I watched the deacons in my ward very closely in anticipation of the day I would be 12 years old, receive the priesthood, and be able to pass the sacrament. That day finally arrived, and soon after being ordained by my father, who was the bishop of the ward, I felt ready, but nervous, to begin my duties as a new deacon.
I now belonged to a quorum of the Aaronic Priesthood. The members of my quorum became very best friends. That friendship and quorum brotherhood continued to grow through my youth as we learned and served together in our priesthood duties. We were all good friends and experienced a fun and enjoyable time being together in our quorum activities.
One Sunday following one of those warm and long sacrament meetings, the first counselor in our bishopric called me aside to talk to me. This unscheduled priesthood interview became a blessing in my life as I have pondered the question he asked during our brief but significant visit. Brother Bateman looked me in the eye and asked, “Dean, do you know who you are?” There was complete silence, and then he gave me a quick and powerful reminder, “You are the son of Reid Burgess.”
The meaning and significance of that question has burned in my heart for a long time, and I often reflected on it throughout my teenage years. This good brother’s question—“Do you know who you are?”—has given me inspired direction throughout my life and a commitment to bring respect and honor to my family and to the priesthood.

Hi, I’m Micaela!
Each summer, my stake has a food drive to collect food for a food bank. I was sad to learn that some kids don’t get dinner every night, I know how grumpy I feel when I’m hungry, so I wanted to help with the food drive.
Spreading the Word
A food bank gives food to people who don’t have much money. I wanted lots of people to help donate. A few weeks before the food drive, I brought flyers to my school teacher. She passed out more flyers to other teachers.
Running for a Reason
I decided to run the one-mile race that was held as part of the food drive. I practiced in my neighborhood so my body would be ready to run a whole mile.
Gathering Donations
Some races you have to pay money to enter. For this race, runners were asked to donate food instead of money! My parents and friends gave me food to donate.
Ready, Set, Serve!
It was a hot morning, but I finished the race. I ran the whole time without stopping. I even got a medal for finishing!
Sorting the Food
After the race my family and I went to the parking lot of a local grocery store to sort the donations that went to the food bank.
Micaela’s Tip
I try to invite friends to Church service activities, whether they’re members or not. We have fun!

I recently went with priesthood leaders to visit the homes of four women in Honduras. These sisters and their families were in need of priesthood keys and authority, priesthood ordinances and covenants, and priesthood power and blessings.
Our next visit was at the home of two single sisters, women of great faith. One sister has a son preparing for a mission. The other sister is receiving treatment for cancer. In times of discouragement and despair, they remember the Savior’s Atonement and are filled with faith and hope. They both need the additional blessings and power available through temple ordinances. We encouraged them to join the future missionary in their home in preparing to receive those ordinances.

“Wow!” Ana said. “Look at all the stars.” Everyone in Ana’s family looked up from the campfire. It seemed like there were millions of stars in the dark sky.
“Just think,” Mom said, “each of those stars is one of Heavenly Father’s creations.”
“Let’s each name one of our favorite things that Heavenly Father has created for us,” Dad suggested.
“I know,” Daniel said quickly. “I like those huge waves we saw at the ocean last year.”
Ana didn’t know what to choose. She thought about the warm sun, the bright moon, and sweet-smelling flowers. Then she remembered how much she loved all kinds of soft, furry animals. “Animals!” she said.
Ana started to shiver, so Dad wrapped a blanket around her. “After Heavenly Father created all these beautiful things for His children, He saw that they were good,” Dad said.
Ana had a warm, happy feeling inside. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and looked back up at the stars. “Thank you, Heavenly Father,” she whispered.

At 15, I wanted more than just about anything to play football. There were just a few problems: I was small and slow and had played football only occasionally with the kids in my neighborhood.
But I found that there was one thing I could do well by practicing over and over again—I became a kicker. All summer long I practiced kicking extra points and field goals, sometimes 200 in a day. By the end of the summer I was consistent, and I did become my school’s designated field-goal kicker.

The Lowell family came to the community under unusual circumstances. Brother Lowell had just finished his doctorate degree at BYU and was searching for a job. “I knew I wanted to coach swimming because Cal was in swimming. He showed talent as a youngster, and all I really wanted to do was help him develop it. I wanted to find a job that would allow me to spend time with my son.”
But after graduation Brother Lowell was 50 and unemployed. He’d been fasting and praying about finding a job and worrying particularly about his older son Ron who was still on a mission. As he sat at the kitchen table reading a swimming magazine, a small classified ad caught Brother Lowell’s attention. It described a coaching position available in a desert town 150 miles southeast of Los Angeles. Every detail seemed to be describing him. “It was like a hand came down on my shoulder, and I had to get up and call the number. I figured that an ad in a national magazine would already be filled, but I knew I had to call just the same. I told the man who answered the phone, ‘You may think I’m crazy, but I think the Lord wants me to come to Indio and coach swimming. I’m a Mormon, and I think that I’m being told that that’s what I should be doing.’ The man said, ‘I don’t think you’re crazy; I’m a Mormon, too!’” Brother Joe Rile, the man Brother Lowell had phoned, was on the board of directors for a private swim club in Indio. Soon the whole Lowell family was relocated.

Elder Gordon B. Hinckley
At the outset, I should like to say that I am convinced that we have never had a more dedicated or more capable generation of young men in the history of the Church. Some of you older brethren may dispute that, which brings to mind the story of the boy who came down to breakfast one morning and said, “Dad, I dreamed about you last night.”
“About me? What did you dream?”
“I dreamed I was climbing a ladder to heaven and on the way up I had to write one of my sins on each step of the ladder.”
“And where did I come into your dream?” the father asked.
Said the boy, “When I was going up, I met you coming down for more chalk.”

Years ago, Elder John H. Groberg related the story of a young family living in a small branch in Hawaii in the early 1900s. They had been members of the Church for about two years when one of their daughters fell ill with an undiagnosed disease and was hospitalized. At church the next Sunday, the father and his son prepared the sacrament as they did most weeks, but as the young father knelt to bless the bread, the branch president, suddenly realizing who was at the sacrament table, jumped up and cried, “Stop. You can’t touch the sacrament. Your daughter has an unknown disease. Leave immediately while someone else fixes new sacrament bread. We can’t have you here. Go.” The stunned father searchingly looked at the branch president and then the congregation and, sensing the depth of anxiety and embarrassment from all, motioned to his family, and they quietly filed out of the chapel.

Not a word was said as, dejectedly, the family walked along the trail to their small home. There they sat in a circle, and the father said, “Please be silent until I am ready to speak.” The young son wondered what they would do to get revenge for the shame they had suffered: would they kill the branch president’s pigs, or burn his house, or join another church? Five, ten, fifteen, twenty-five minutes passed in silence.

The father’s clenched fists began to relax, and tears formed. The mother began to cry, and soon each of the children was quietly weeping. The father turned to his wife and said, “I love you,” and then repeated those words to each of their children. “I love all of you and I want us to be together, forever, as a family. And the only way that can be is for all of us to be good members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and be sealed by the holy priesthood in the temple. This is not the branch president’s church. It is the Church of Jesus Christ. We will not allow any man or any hurt or embarrassment or pride to keep us from being together forever. Next Sunday we will go back to church. We will stay by ourselves until our daughter’s sickness is known, but we will go back.”

They did go back, their daughter recovered, and the family was sealed in the Laie Hawaii Temple when it was completed. Today, well over 100 souls call their father, grandfather, and great-grandfather blessed because he kept his eyes on eternity.

You will find examples of them around the world—like Lisa. Lisa, age eleven, lives in England. She came home from school one day feeling very excited. She had been asked to read a part in the school devotional assembly the following morning. She said to her mother, “But some of the words are wrong.” Her mother discovered that one paragraph referred to God and the Holy Ghost as being one and the same person. Lisa and her mother decided to write a letter to Lisa’s teacher explaining that this paragraph was contrary to Lisa’s belief, and that she would feel much happier leaving it out.
The next afternoon her mother waited anxiously for Lisa to return home from school. She came home with a big, bright smile on her face. Not only had the teacher let her leave the paragraph out, but she had asked for more information about the Church. In addition, the teacher asked Lisa to present an assembly about the Church. All this came about because Lisa lived up to the covenant she had made and was willing to witness to the world her own beliefs.

Church history and the experiences of our ancestors illustrate this reality. My great-grandfather Henry Eyring prayed fervently to know what he should do when he heard the restored gospel taught in 1855. The answer came in a dream.
He dreamed that he was seated at a table with Elder Erastus Snow of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and with an elder named William Brown. Elder Snow taught the principles of the gospel for what seemed to be an hour. Then Elder Snow said, “In the name of Jesus Christ I command you to be baptized and this man [Elder Brown] … shall baptize you.”1 My family is grateful that Henry Eyring had the faith and humility to be baptized at 7:30 in the morning in a pool of rainwater in St. Louis, Missouri, USA, by Elder Brown.
The answer to his prayer did not come in an audible voice from the Lord. It came in a vision and dream in the night, as it did with Lehi (see 1 Nephi 8:2).

Years passed. Brother Andelin passed away. Then on a cold December morning, our priests quorum arrived at a little house on the edge of the ward boundaries. The name on the mailbox read Andelin. At the door, leaning against a cane, was a small woman with thinning white hair and a warm smile.
Our adviser introduced us to Sister Andelin as we brought in the small Christmas tree we were giving her. She made sure to learn our names as she talked to us. Sister Andelin hadn’t been able to come to church for several years. But even though she didn’t recognize most of us, she knew our families.
“How’s your mother?” she asked me.
I gave the usual response. “Fine.”
“My husband used to be your home teacher when you first joined the Church. Do you remember that?”
After telling her I did, I reminded her about the board and the seesaw. She held her hands together and smiled at me as if picturing the entire thing in her mind. “You know, he was always doing good things like that for people. And now look at you,” she said, taking hold of my hand. “Passing on the good that you were taught. That’s how I get along now; all the love my husband spread around this ward just keeps flowing back to me.”
I realized that Brother Andelin took care of the widows and the fatherless as the Lord directed. But more than that, Brother Andelin passed on a spirit of giving that outlasted both him and that old teeter-totter.
Since Brother Andelin’s first visit, I’ve learned a lot about the Church, while gaining a testimony of the gospel. That testimony began when a white-haired man took an old board and made a seesaw.

Years ago, I was asked to meet with a man who, long before our visit, had had a period of riotous living. As a result of his bad choices, he lost his membership in the Church. He had long since returned to the Church and was faithfully keeping the commandments, but his previous actions haunted him. Meeting with him, I felt his shame and his deep remorse at having set his covenants aside. Following our interview, I placed my hands upon his head to give him a priesthood blessing. Before speaking a word, I felt an overpowering sense of the Savior’s love and forgiveness for him. Following the blessing, we embraced and the man wept openly.

I am amazed at the Savior’s encircling arms of mercy and love for the repentant, no matter how selfish the forsaken sin. I testify that the Savior is able and eager to forgive our sins. Except for the sins of those few who choose perdition after having known a fulness, there is no sin that cannot be forgiven. What a marvelous privilege for each of us to turn away from our sins and to come unto Christ. Divine forgiveness is one of the sweetest fruits of the gospel, removing guilt and pain from our hearts and replacing them with joy and peace of conscience. Jesus declares, “Will ye not now return unto me, and repent of your sins, and be converted, that I may heal you?”

He glanced at the clock—still 20 minutes to go. He started looking for ways to make the time speed up. He folded up his class handout. Pretty soon he started swinging his feet back and forth. Just as he was about to see how long he could hold his breath, Jayson heard something amazing. “I made a big mistake,” Sister Simmons said.
“When I was 12 years old I had some friends who used bad language,” Sister Simmons said, “and I noticed that whenever I got mad a swear word would pop into my head. I wasn’t worried, because I knew that I wouldn’t actually say the words. But one day I got mad during recess and took the Lord’s name in vain. I felt so sad! I couldn’t believe that I had crossed the line between words in my head and words in my mouth.”
Jayson sat up straight, the clock forgotten. Sister Simmons told how she had talked with her parents that night and asked her father for a priesthood blessing. The bad words didn’t go away immediately, but as she crowded them out with good thoughts, they came less often. After a while, they went away completely.

The chain reaction continued as Ana Carolina reached out to a new investigator. Tatiane Pimenta, age 16, began attending church when she and her family were introduced to the Church by Sister Pimentel. “I felt very timid because I didn’t know anyone,” Tatiane says. “I quietly stayed in the corner.”
But soon things began to change for Tatiane. “I started feeling good because I made a friend.” In one class, Sister Pimentel introduced a game in which all the girls put their shoes in the middle of the floor, put on someone else’s, then got to know the owner of the shoes they had picked. “That’s how I started talking to Ana Carolina,” remembers Tatiane. “She became my first friend, a friend who encouraged me a lot. Because of her, I felt able to join the Church.”

“Diane, it’s time to pick up your toys,” called Mother. “Tomorrow is Sunday, and I want your room to be as neat and clean as the rest of the house.” Diane sighed and sat in the middle of her cluttered room to start doing what Mother had asked. She wondered why it was more fun to get the toys and books out to play with than to put them away. After putting three books back on the shelf, Diane picked up two little cars and was soon playing with them. She stacked up the wood blocks to create a big garage. How much fun she was having when Mother appeared in the doorway!
“Diane! You haven’t picked up a single toy in all this time.”
“But look at the neat garage I just built, Mom,” she said, pointing to her project.
“Every Saturday we have this problem of you not putting your toys away. You either disappear when the job must be done, or you start playing with them.”
Diane looked at the floor and said, “I wish that they’d just disappear for Sunday and come back the next day.”
“I think that that’s a good idea,” Mother said thoughtfully. “The disappear part, anyway,” she added. “If there are any toys or books that haven’t been picked up by the time I come back to vacuum your room, they will disappear into my safekeeping. But they won’t come back on Monday! If I have to pick them up, I will keep them.”
Diane thought about this and decided to pick up several of her favorite books and toys. A big beach ball, a stuffed dog, other small toys, and the rest of her dolls, cars, and books, were left on the floor.
Mother returned later and sent Diane outside to play while she cleaned. When Diane returned, the room looked neat and clean. All the toys and books on the floor had disappeared.
Diane didn’t think about the vanished toys until Timmy, the boy next door, came on Tuesday and they wanted to play with the beach ball and Diane couldn’t find it. They had to play with some of her blocks, instead.
On Saturday Diane left more toys on the floor, and they disappeared. The next week she really missed her favorite boat when Timmy came over to play in the wading pool with his. Diane’s had disappeared with other toys that she hadn’t put away. With big tears rolling down her cheeks, she turned to her mother. “Mom,” she cried, “I want my boat back. Can’t I have it?”
“I warned you that if you didn’t take better care of your toys, they would vanish,” Mom said gently as she lifted Diane onto her lap and comforted her.
“But I want them, Mom. Please may I have them back? I’ll take care of them and put them away. Honest.”
Mother kissed Diane’s cheek and thought for a moment. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Every Saturday when you’ve cleaned up your room, you may choose one of the hidden toys. That way you can earn them back, and maybe you will take better care of them. If you think that that will work, I’ll let you have your little boat now.”
Diane smiled and nodded.
On Saturday Diane couldn’t wait to get her toys put away so that she could choose one of the toys that had disappeared. And each week when she picked one out, it seemed like an old friend coming back to her.

Old Bob came into our lives in an interesting way. He was a widower in his eighties when the house in which he was living was to be demolished. I heard him tell my grandfather his plight as the three of us sat on the old front porch swing. With a plaintive voice, he said to grandfather, “Mr. Condie, I don’t know what to do. I have no family. I have no place to go. I have no money.” I wondered how grandfather would answer. Slowly grandfather reached into his pocket and took from it that old leather purse from which, in response to my hounding, he had produced many a penny or nickel for a special treat. This time he removed a key and handed it to Old Bob. Tenderly he said, “Bob, here is the key to that house I own next door. Take it. Move in your things. Stay as long as you like. There will be no rent to pay and nobody will ever put you out again.”
Tears welled up in the eyes of Old Bob, coursed down his cheeks, then disappeared in his long, white beard. Grandfather’s eyes were also moist. I spoke no word, but that day my grandfather stood ten feet tall. I was proud to bear his given name. Though I was but a boy, that lesson has influenced my life.

Many years ago I stood by the bedside of a young man, the father of two children, as he hovered between life and the great beyond. He took my hand in his, looked into my eyes, and pleadingly asked, “Bishop, I know I am about to die. Tell me what happens to my spirit when I die.”
I prayed for heavenly guidance before attempting to respond. My attention was directed to the Book of Mormon, which rested on the table beside his bed. I held the book in my hand, and it providentially opened to the 40th chapter of Alma. I began to read aloud:
“Now my son, here is somewhat more I would say unto thee; for I perceive that thy mind is worried concerning the resurrection of the dead. …
“Now, concerning the state of the soul between death and the resurrection—Behold, it has been made known unto me by an angel, that the spirits of all men, as soon as they are departed from this mortal body, … are taken home to that God who gave them life.
“And then shall it come to pass, that the spirits of those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness, which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all care, and sorrow.”
My young friend closed his eyes, expressed a sincere thank-you, and silently slipped away to that paradise about which we had spoken.