Gospel Story Finder

“In church I’ve learned to have faith in God,” Maria says. One day she had a test, so she prayed to Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus Christ for help. When she got a good grade, she felt like Heavenly Father had helped her.

Long years ago, when I served as a bishop, I learned that Mary Watson, a member of my ward, was a patient in the county hospital. When I went to visit her, I discovered her in a large room with so many beds that it was difficult to single her out. As I identified her bed and approached her, I said, “Hello, Mary.”
She replied, “Hello, Bishop.”
I noticed that a patient in the bed next to Mary Watson covered her face with the bedsheet.
I gave Mary a blessing, shook her hand, and said good-bye, but I could not leave her side. It was as though an unseen hand were resting on my shoulder, and I felt within my soul that I was hearing these words: “Go over to the next bed, where the little lady covered her face when you came in.” I did so. I have learned in my life never to postpone responding to a prompting.
I gently tapped the other patient on her shoulder and carefully pulled back the sheet that had covered her face. Lo and behold, she, too, was a member of my ward. I had not known she was a patient there. Her name was Kathleen McKee. When her eyes met mine, she exclaimed through her tears, “Oh, Bishop, when you entered that door, I felt you had come to see me and bless me in response to my prayers. I was rejoicing inside to think that you knew I was here. When you stopped at the other bed, my heart sank, and I knew that you had not come to see me.”
I said to Kathleen McKee: “It does not matter that I didn’t know that you were here. It is important, however, that our Heavenly Father knew and that you had prayed for a priesthood blessing. It was He who prompted me to come to you now.”
A blessing was given, a prayer was answered. I bestowed a kiss on her forehead and left the hospital with gratitude in my heart for the promptings of the Spirit. It was the last time I saw Kathleen McKee alive.

Recently, Wendy and I were in a meeting where the organist was poised and ready to play the opening hymn. His eyes were on the music, and his fingers were on the keys. He began pressing the keys, but there was no sound. I whispered to Wendy, “He has no power.” I reasoned that something had stopped the flow of electrical power to that organ.

Illustration by Joel Castillo
I was introduced to the Church by my aunt and uncle, who live near my home. I was only seven years old at the time, and I loved going to church to be with the other children. My parents were not members, but they did not mind that I went to church every Sunday with my aunt and uncle. My parents said that it was much better for me to be involved with a church that taught of Jesus Christ than to be out in the streets getting into trouble.
The missionaries came often to our home to teach us. My parents loved the discussions, but they did not want to embrace the gospel. They said that they were not ready because entering the waters of baptism is a serious commitment. The missionaries continued to come to our home, but they always left disappointed with the answers my parents gave. I knew, however, that one day they would be baptized.
When I turned eight, I was ready to make the baptismal covenant. My mom asked me if that was what I really wanted. She told me that once I was baptized, I could not change my mind and that baptism would change my entire life. I said that being baptized was something I had dreamed about since I first started going to Primary.
After I was baptized and confirmed, I continued to go to church, but my parents rarely came to our Primary activities. It was painful for me to see all the other children with their parents. But I hoped that one day they would be baptized and we would be sealed in the temple, and my greatest dream would become a reality.
When I was a teenager, the missionaries continued to teach my parents, but they still did not want to be baptized. However, they would occasionally come to church, which gave me a little hope. I still dreamed that my parents would join the Church, but I began to think that it would never come to pass in this life.
Then one beautiful Sunday morning when I was 17, my mother again went to church with me. On our way home she told me something that I can still hear in my thoughts and in my heart. She said that she had decided to be baptized. I was shocked! After waiting for so long, I wondered if this was real. In May 2010, my mother entered the waters of baptism. It was such a happy day.
After the baptism I looked at my father and said, “You’re the only one left now.” He responded that it would not be soon because he didn’t feel the desire to be baptized. I was again sad—part of my dream had come true, but the rest seemed far away. Although it was hard, I was certain that things would change. To my great happiness, my prayers were again answered two months later when my father entered the waters of baptism. It was the greatest joy of my life. I felt as though the heavens were singing.
After my parents joined the Church, I realized that another part of my dream had come true but that we needed to be sealed for eternity in the house of the Lord. My parents told me they didn’t feel ready, that they didn’t have enough money for the long trip to the Recife Brazil Temple, and that they didn’t have anyone to watch our home while we were gone. I was sad, but I kept praying for that blessing, knowing that the Lord would answer my prayers.
In time my mother began to feel a strong desire to go to the temple, even though my father continued to put it off. After many conversations with the bishop, they both decided to go. I felt so much joy I could barely contain it!
In September 2011, my mother, my father, and I went to the temple for the first time in our lives. I was sealed to my parents the next day, and I can truly say that, after 11 years of waiting, it was the best day of my life.
I am very grateful to Heavenly Father for everything He has given to me, especially for answering my prayers and fulfilling my greatest dream: the dream of seeing my whole family in the house of the Lord.

I first heard about the Church when my mother joined Brother Joseph W. B. Johnson’s group in 1968.1 I was about 10 years old. My father’s business had declined because of the 1966 coup d’état, and the family was going through a hard time. So my mother thought it wise to seek spiritual help.

Most of us recognize that God speaks to all His children in their own language. We have likely seen how He communicates with us in our language and how He communicates with others in their own language. This is especially noticeable if we have had the opportunity to live in a country other than our own. I initially became aware of this principle as a young missionary when my first companion and I taught the gospel of Jesus Christ in standard Italian, a language that was not our native tongue.

During our time together in Lugano, Switzerland, my companion and I found and taught a family from Sicily, Italy. We spoke Italian, but the family spoke Sicilian, which is distinct enough from standard Italian that it is considered a separate language. The local branch members spoke a different variation of Italian that is even less well-known: Swiss Italian. Yet the branch members used their native Swiss Italian to help us fellowship and teach this young family.

Despite the differences between standard Italian, Swiss Italian, and Sicilian, the Lord spoke to and through each of us by the Holy Ghost, according to our language and understanding. Eventually, this young family entered the waters of baptism and were confirmed members of the Church.

Image from Getty Images
When my husband and I decided to start our own business, the first three years were difficult. We were failing to make a profit and falling into debt. We worked hard, but unimaginable problems made that time the most difficult of our lives.
It became worse when my mother-in-law passed away the day after Christmas and just a week later, on New Year’s Eve, I became extremely ill. At the time, we were broke, we had lost our car, and worst of all, we had lost our health insurance.
Eventually, I was diagnosed with an aggressive type of cancer that had been developing for at least five years. It was serious and required immediate surgery. I was running out of time, and we had no money for the expensive medical care I needed.
My husband and I met with our bishop and asked for help. We explained that this was literally a case of life or death. The bishop was concerned, but he told us that he felt prompted to wait a little longer before giving assistance to see if another way might be opened to us. He assured us that if our faith was sufficient, the Lord would provide a way for me to get the help I needed.
At first, the bishop’s response made me angry and resentful. I felt that both he and the Lord had forsaken me. But I had a testimony of the gospel, and I believed that our bishop was called of God. Despite my heartache, I prayed that Heavenly Father would help me continue to love, respect, and support my bishop. When I prayed for this, I was comforted and felt that the Lord would help me in some way.
My husband and I moved forward with faith, and I received needed medical tests and scheduled my surgery, despite our lack of money. The day before my surgery, we sold our business for a good price, which allowed us to pay all my medical bills.
It now became clear why my bishop had hesitated to help. He had acted on inspiration in order for me to have a valuable spiritual experience. That experience taught me to trust the Savior, even when the path seems frustrating and scary. I am grateful for the counsel I did not want to hear from my bishop. I know now that God is a God of miracles and that He never forsakes us.

Pat met Jeffrey Holland between her junior and senior year at high school. With a twinkle in her eye, she expressed much more of that sweet relationship than was spoken. “And that continues to be the best thing that has ever happened to me,” she said enthusiastically. “He continually amazes me, and it’s a wonderful privilege and blessing to be his wife.” Feeling the joy and happiness that she was expressing made it difficult to realize that she had ever had youthful feelings of discouragement or fear.
Speaking of their early friendship, she recalled that when he left for his mission, they so wanted to have a “forever kind of love.” Together they decided that they would do three things that would unite them even in his absence: (1) Read the scriptures every day. (2) Fast once a week. (3) Pray really often. “These have become habits that we have continued to this day,” she said humbly and gratefully, thinking of the far-reaching rewards of that early decision that kept them close while they were far away.

Napoleon’s army in the late 1700s was said to have the best bread in the world, and the British navy at the time was said to have the worst. The British navy biscuits were made by a gang of five men who kneaded the dough with their feet. The biscuits were baked hard, and by the time the seamen ate them, the biscuits were often full of weevils, small insects that feed on grains.

Alice told her parents she’d walk home after play practice. No one else lived close to her. Besides it had been a pretty day, and it would only take about forty-five minutes to make it from the school to her house.
But she hadn’t planned on the cold wind that bit through her sweater and slacks and chilled her through by the time she’d covered the first three blocks, nor on the dark clouds that were rapidly filling the sky.
So while the wind lashed her hair in angry patterns across her face, she turned to face the traffic and stuck out her thumb.
Alice didn’t get home in forty-five minutes that night. In fact, her family never heard from her again.
An imaginary tale to scare would-be hitchhikers? Not to the numerous girls the nation over who have stuck out their thumbs and pulled in nothing but trouble. Not many have disappeared like Alice, but more than you would imagine have been robbed and assaulted.
Where once picking up a hitchhiker threatened the driver with brutal attack, robbery, and sometimes murder, now the greatest danger seems to be to the thousands of young people, many of them girls, who are determined to save a few dimes or dollars in trips across town or around the world.
No reliable statistics are available on the occurrence of violence to hitchhikers because, for one thing, most police departments don’t report such cases under a special category. For another, only about one-third of the harassment is ever reported. But where statistics exist they are striking. In Boulder, Colorado, for example, 120 cases of sexual assault were reported last year—almost half with hitchhikers as victims. In the Boston-Cambridge area at least 3 of the 7 young women murdered recently were girls who willingly got into a stranger’s car. In San Diego, California, 80 to 100 women were assaulted last year as they thumbed their way to and from their off-campus housing and California State University.
What can be done to eliminate such statistics? Not much say policemen as long as young people refuse to use more acceptable means of transport. Only a few states strictly enforce anti-hitchhiking laws. Most areas of the country either do not have laws to cover the problem or do not enforce the ones they have. So, as a result, thousands of potential Alices, some for the first time, some for the hundredth, continue to trust their lives to complete strangers on the road. Don’t you fool yourself. Spend a dime and call your parents. That’s still the most dependable way to get home.

• In February of 1943, the Allied transport ship Dorchester was torpedoed in the North Atlantic. As the ship went down, four chaplains—one Catholic, one Jewish, and two Protestant—stood on deck passing out life belts. When there were no more, they gave away their own. The four chaplains were last seen standing arm-in-arm, praying.

If we follow up, the Lord will not let us down. I have seen the unspeakable joy that accompanies testimony-driven inviting and faithful follow-up among members of the Church the world over. While in Argentina recently, I encouraged members to invite someone to church before this general conference. An eight-year-old by the name of Joshua listened and invited his best friend and his friend’s family to an open house at their ward in Buenos Aires. Let me read from a letter I just received that explained Joshua’s invitation and his faithful follow-up:
“Every few minutes [Joshua] would run out to the gate to see if they were coming. He said that he knew they would [come].
“The evening wore on and Joshua’s friend did not come, but Joshua did not give up. He faithfully checked the front gate every few minutes. It was time to start putting things away when Joshua started to jump up and down announcing, ‘They are here! They are here!’ I looked up to see an entire family approaching the church. Joshua ran out to greet them and hugged his friend. They all came in and seemed to enjoy the open house very much. They took some pamphlets and spent lots of time getting acquainted with some new friends. It was great to see the faith of this little boy and to know that Primary children can be missionaries too.”11

Quite recently I was privileged to observe this process in the life of a brother named Stan, who had been less active for some 45 years. He had lived a good life and supported both his wife and son in their activity as faithful members in the Church. Yet for personal reasons he chose to remain outside the fellowship of the Church. Even so, each month he welcomed the home teachers.

During February 2006, Stan received new home teachers. Their first visit was pleasant enough, although Stan showed no real interest in the gospel or in any matters remotely associated with spiritual things. Their next visit did little to alter their initial observations, even though Stan was a little warmer and friendlier. On their third visit, however, there was a visible change in Stan’s countenance and demeanor. To their utmost surprise and even before they were able to present their message, Stan interrupted them with a number of thoughtful questions. In the ensuing discussion he also recounted his experiences during the past month, in which he and his wife had commenced reading one chapter a day from the Book of Mormon.

Elder Bruce R. McConkie eloquently described the type of reawakening Stan experienced: “Here is a man who gains a copy of this blessed book, begins to read it, and continues … until, having read it all, his famished soul is filled with the bread of life. He cannot lay it aside or ignore its teachings. It is as though the waters of life are flowing into the barren deserts of his soul, quenching the arid, empty feeling that theretofore separated him from his God.”

The home teachers were reminded of the remarkable power of the Book of Mormon and how very real the influence of the Spirit of the Lord is when we turn to its sacred pages. They also more fully understood the Prophet Joseph Smith’s declaration “that the Book of Mormon [is] the most correct of any book on earth, … and a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book.”

Stan’s thirst for learning and rediscovery of the restored gospel soon expanded his reading beyond one chapter a day, accompanied by deep soul-searching and fervent prayer. To those who sometimes are concerned whether the Lord will actually hear their prayers, the Savior reminds us:

“If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent? …

“If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall your heavenly Father give good gifts, through the Holy Spirit, to them that ask him?”

Our beloved prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley, also counseled: “You can’t do it alone. … You need the help of the Lord … and the marvelous thing is that you have the opportunity to pray, with the expectation that your prayers will be heard and answered. … He stands ready to help.”

During August of 2006, Stan ventured alongside his ever-faithful wife into his ward sacrament meeting—his first in 45 years. There, with a humble and prayerful heart, he listened to the simple sacramental prayers offered by the youthful priests. Feeling unworthy and sensing something of the depth and the meaning of this most holy ordinance, he reflected deeply and painfully without partaking of the bread or the water for a number of weeks.

President Joseph Fielding Smith, in a tender testimony many years ago, said: “In my judgment the sacrament meeting is the most sacred, the most holy, of all the meetings of the Church. When I reflect upon the gathering of the Savior and his apostles on that memorable night when he introduced the sacrament … my heart is filled with wonderment and my feelings are touched. I consider that gathering one of the most solemn and wonderful since the beginning of time.”

Stan continued studying, praying, attending church, and receiving appropriate counsel and encouragement from his home teachers. Then the day arrived when, joyfully, he felt he was ready to put forth his hand to partake of the precious sacrament. When we partake worthily, thoughtfully, and reverently of the holy sacrament, we are enabled to become “partakers of the divine nature” because of the Atonement of Christ and the power of the Holy Ghost.

As Stan returned to activity in the Church, he received a calling and, some months later, was ordained an elder.

In July 2007, Stan and his wife knelt across the altar in a house of the Lord and, by the authority and eternal law of God, were married for time and for all eternity.

Corey remembers being 11 or so when his cousin died of cancer. He was at his funeral and struggling with questions. Why did this have to happen? He was a good kid who was strong in the gospel. Why did he have to die? His family knew they would be together again, but the loss made them so sad.
“I didn’t understand why he was taken from us. Then I heard a small voice that said, ‘I need him here.’ It was still a hard thing, but I felt better. After that experience I know that the Lord answers my prayers. That was the beginning of my testimony.”

After the Saints left Nauvoo, the temple was destroyed by fire and a tornado. In 1999, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) announced that the Nauvoo Temple would be built again in the same place. Today you can see this beautiful temple just as it looked back in the 1840s.

For 67 years, Marjorie Pay Hinckley kept pace with her husband, President Gordon B. Hinckley, as he traveled the world. On 6 April 2004, her mortal journey ended. Surrounded by family and loved ones, Sister Hinckley quietly passed from this world to the next due to causes incident to age. Born on 23 November 1911, she was 92.
As evidence of the countless lives she touched, thousands attended a public viewing, some of them standing in line outside on a blustery spring day for more than three hours. Thousands attended the funeral held in the Tabernacle on 10 April, and tens of thousands more watched on television and by satellite broadcast.
“She conversed with kings and queens. She loved little children,” President Thomas S. Monson, First Counselor in the First Presidency, said of Sister Hinckley’s ability to relate to people from all walks of life. “There was no flaw in her character. … Like the Master, Marjorie went about doing good.”
“She had such a good life,” said President James E. Faust, Second Counselor in the First Presidency. “All of us would benefit from following her faith, commitment, and devotion.”
During the funeral services, the Hinckleys’ five children—Kathleen, Richard, Virginia, Clark, and Jane—shared quotes from Sister Hinckley and gave expressions of gratitude to their mother. Clark Hinckley read a letter written by President Hinckley to his wife after nearly 60 years of marriage. “My darling, … I have known you for a long time … and it has turned out as I had hoped it would. … Now we have grown old together. … And when in some future day the hand of death gently touches one or the other of us, there will be tears, yes, but there will also be a quiet and certain assurance of reunion and eternal companionship.”
Sheri L. Dew, former member of the Relief Society general presidency and biographer of President Hinckley, said that while 12 million members together cannot take Sister Hinckley’s place, each would be praying that President Hinckley would have the strength to carry on. She said that each member would try a little harder in order to ease the prophet’s burden.

When I was a child, as a family we went on vacation to a beach on the coast of my native country, Chile. I was excited to spend some days enjoying the summer with my family. I was also thrilled because I thought I could finally join in and do what my two older brothers usually did for fun on the water.
One day my brothers went to play where the waves were breaking, and I felt big and mature enough to follow them. As I moved toward that area, I realized the waves were larger than they appeared from the shore. Suddenly, a wave rapidly approached me, taking me by surprise. I felt like the power of nature had taken over me, and I was dragged into the depths of the sea. I couldn’t see or feel any reference point as I was tossed around. Just as I thought my adventure on the earth might be coming to an end, I felt a hand pulling me toward the surface. Finally, I could see the sun and catch my breath.
My brother Claudio had seen my attempts to act as a grown-up and had come to my rescue. I was not far from the shore. Even though the water was shallow, I was disoriented and had not realized I could have helped myself. Claudio told me that I needed to be careful and, if I wanted, he could teach me. Despite the gallons of water I had swallowed, my pride and desire to be a big boy were stronger, and I said, “Sure.”
Claudio told me I needed to attack the waves. I told myself I would surely lose that battle against what seemed like a huge wall of water.
As a new big wave approached, Claudio quickly said, “Look at me; this is how you do it.” Claudio ran toward the incoming wave and dove into it before it broke. I was so impressed with his dive that I lost sight of the next incoming wave. So again I was sent to the depths of the sea and tossed by the forces of nature. A few seconds later, a hand grasped mine, and I was again pulled toward the surface and air. The flame of my pride was extinguishing.
This time my brother invited me to dive with him. As per his invitation, I followed him, and we dove together. I felt as if I was conquering the most complicated challenge. Certainly, it was not very easy, but I did it, thanks to the help and example shown by my brother. His hand rescued me twice; his example showed me how to deal with my challenge and be victorious that day.
If we think celestial, we will recognize Jesus Christ as a flawless example of ministry. There is a pattern for us in the scriptures when He or His disciples reach out to someone in need of help, rescue, or a blessing as they reach out with their hands. As in my story, I knew my brother was there, but being there for me was not enough. Claudio knew I was in trouble, and he went to help lift me from the water.
My brother did not give up on me that day but persisted so I could learn how to do it for myself. He persisted, even if that required rescuing me twice. He persisted, even if I could not get it at first. He persisted so I could overcome that challenge and succeed. If we think celestial, we will realize that our Savior will be there as many times as necessary to provide help if we want to learn, change, overcome, cope, or succeed in whatever will bring true and everlasting happiness to our lives.

Fifth, service helps us generate love and appreciation. We come to know people by serving them—their circumstances, their challenges, their hopes and aspirations. My wife and I have the privilege of visiting some widowed sisters who have become dear friends. What a blessing for us to learn of their missions and temple service and now family record extraction service, unselfishly performed despite many trials and heartaches.

In Lewis Carroll’s classic Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Alice finds herself coming to a crossroads with two paths before her, each stretching onward but in opposite directions. She is confronted by the Cheshire Cat, of whom she asks, “Which path shall I take?”
The cat answers: “That depends where you want to go. If you do not know where you want to go, it doesn’t really matter which path you take!”

The next day, she and Jennie accompanied President McMurrin and other missionaries to Oldham, a manufacturing town east of Liverpool. In the evening, they formed a circle on a busy street corner, offered a prayer, and sang hymns until a large crowd formed around them. President McMurrin announced that a special meeting would be held the following day, and he invited everyone to come and hear preaching from “real live Mormon women.”
As he said this, a sick feeling crept over Inez. She was nervous about speaking to a large crowd. Still, as she stood among the missionaries in their silk hats and black suits, she had never been prouder to be a Latter-day Saint.4
The next evening, Inez trembled as she waited for her turn to speak. Having heard terrible lies about Latter-day Saint women, people were curious about her and the other women speaking at the meeting. Sarah Noall and Caroline Smith, the wife and sister-in-law of one of the missionaries, addressed the congregation first. Inez then spoke, despite her fear, and surprised herself by how well she did.