Gospel Story Finder

For a while, I had tried to combat my loneliness and feelings of inadequacy by trying to be everything. I busied myself with every activity I could find to keep my mind off the real issues in my life. And I spent an excessive amount of time considering others’ needs as a way to avoid having to focus on my own. I tutored, played tennis, baked for all my friends and neighbors, and became a teaching assistant. I also worked part-time, took a lot of classes, and was the president of multiple clubs and groups on campus.
To those looking from the outside, I was the girl who had it all together. What they couldn’t see was that inside, I was desperately searching for something to make me feel good enough. But always trying to do more and more only brought added confusion into my life as to who I was and who I wanted to be.
Toward the end of my freshman year I realized how badly paralyzed I had become by my feelings of worthlessness. I had allowed myself to be so overwhelmingly insecure that I denied myself all the amazing things life offered and was becoming numb to my own life.
I stepped back and wondered why, despite doing so much, I still felt nothing. This sent me into a dark depression. What do you do when you feel absolutely abandoned by God?
Anxious to move forward but feeling empty as I wondered how God really felt about me, I realized that something inside of me needed to change. This realization started me on the path to feeling God’s love for me.

Determination and faith add yet another dimension to British seminary study—early-morning classes.
Five mornings a week, youth gather in a home, chilly chapel, or other meeting place, to dig into their scriptures before school and even before paper rounds. Some students face daunting obstacles. Like Philip Halford of Leicester, many live far away from where classes are held and public transport isn’t available. Philip was lucky. His brother had a milk round. Philip hopped on the milk float and rode part of the way.

Marcella frowned as she tried to wiggle her toes in her shoes. The shoes were too small and they hurt, but she knew she shouldn’t complain. At six years old, she knew there was no money for new ones.
The past year had been hard for the Nelson family. In May, Marcella’s tiny baby sister had died of pneumonia. And just six weeks later, her father, Eric, had been killed in an accident at work. How she missed her gentle father.
Now Marcella’s mother was struggling to support her two young daughters with her sewing. Even though she was a skilled seamstress, there wasn’t enough money. The kitchen cupboards in their small home were practically bare. No, bigger shoes just weren’t an option right now.
“Time for breakfast,” Mother called. Marcella struggled not to limp in the tight shoes as she walked to the table.
“Oh, honey.” Her mother knelt at her side. “Those shoes are too small for you, aren’t they?” Marcella could hear the worry in her mother’s voice.
“A little.” Marcella tried to sound unconcerned. “It’s all right.”
“You’re trying to be brave,” Mother said gently. “But I can see they hurt. I will try to get you some new ones soon.”
“I want new shoes too!” piped up little Arvella.
Their mother picked Arvella up in a big hug. “You know your shoes are just fine,” she said. Arvella’s shoes were hand-me-downs from Marcella. They were worn, but at least they fit properly.
Arvella stuck her bottom lip out. “I want new shoes too,” she repeated obstinately. Marcella and her mother smiled at each other. Arvella didn’t understand their difficult position, and somehow her innocence made them feel better. They talked and laughed as they ate breakfast and cleaned up.
Suddenly Mother became serious again. “Girls,” she said slowly, “we need to go to town today. I have $2.50.”
Marcella couldn’t believe it! That was a lot of money in Utah in 1905. “That’s great!” she exclaimed. She imagined the food they could buy to stock their empty shelves. Maybe she could even get new shoes!
Marcella’s smile faded when she saw the tears in her mother’s eyes. “We owe $2.50 for tithing,” she said softly. Then she gathered her girls around her. “I know we are almost out of food. I know that you need new shoes so badly, Marcella. But if we want the Lord to bless us, we must keep His commandments.”
Then she pulled out her worn Bible and turned to Malachi. She read to the girls the Lord’s promise that if they paid tithing, the windows of heaven would open to them.
“What does it mean that the windows of heaven will open?” Arvella asked.
“It means that Heavenly Father will bless us,” Mother said. “It says that we will receive such a great blessing that there won’t be room enough to receive it. I know that we need the Lord’s blessing now more than ever. I believe His promise.”
“I believe it too,” Marcella said.
“Me too,” Arvella chimed in.
“Oh, you are good girls.” Mother pulled them close. “Let’s pray together, and then I am going to take this money straight to the bishop.”
The girls and Mother knelt. Mother asked Heavenly Father for a way to get more food for her little family and shoes for Marcella. After the prayer, they all wiped tears from their eyes. Then, with a smile, Mother said, “Let’s go pay our tithing, girls!”
They walked the short distance to the bishop’s house and gave him the tithing. Although her feet hurt, Marcella enjoyed the walk and the good feeling in her heart. She knew Heavenly Father would bless them.
As they approached their home, they saw Uncle Silas and Aunt Maud pulling up. Both girls ran to Uncle Silas, and he swung them high into the air.
“Hello, Sarah,” Aunt Maud said, giving Mother a quick hug. “We just came to see how you and the girls are doing.”
“Well,” Arvella said seriously, “Marcella’s shoes are too small, but we paid our tithing and it will be fine.”
“Arvella!” Her mother gave her a stern look. “We’re fine, Maud. How is your family?”
They all went into the house and chatted pleasantly. Marcella quickly took off her tight shoes and put them away. She noticed her aunt and uncle looking around the house carefully. Aunt Maud even opened a cupboard as she visited. Too soon, their visitors had to leave.
Later that afternoon, Marcella was surprised to hear a delivery cart outside. It stopped at their home, and a delivery boy came to the door. “A delivery for Sarah Nelson,” he said.
“That’s my mother,” Marcella said.
“But I didn’t order anything,” Mother objected.
Suddenly Uncle Silas appeared in the doorway next to the boy. “It’s for you, Sarah,” he said gently. “You can put everything here on the table,” he directed the delivery boy.
The boy brought in bags of food. The girls danced around the table in delight. They hugged Uncle Silas, who quickly excused himself to go home. There was so much food! Sugar, beans, flour and cornmeal, cured meats and dried fruit—the cupboards would be full! Last of all, the delivery boy brought a small package wrapped in brown paper to the table.
After the delivery boy left, the girls approached the small package. What could be inside? First Marcella and then Arvella shook it. Then Marcella carefully pulled back the paper. Into her lap fell not one, but two pairs of shoes! Marcella picked up the largest pair and put them on. They fit perfectly, and she happily wiggled her toes in complete comfort.
Then she saw Arvella’s face. Her sister had picked up the second pair of shoes and was staring at them in delight. She looked at her mother in wonder. “I thought you said I didn’t need shoes, Mama,” she said questioningly.
“Your old shoes would do,” her mother said through her tears. “But when Heavenly Father opens the windows of heaven, you never know what might pour down.”

Service is the gospel of Jesus Christ in action, and it’s evident in a story I love about Brigham Young. Upon learning that hundreds of handcart pioneers were stranded on the plains in unbearable conditions, he taught with power in this simple sermon at the October 1856 general conference: “I will now give this people the subject and the text for the Elders who may speak, … it is this, … many of our brethren and sisters are on the plains with hand-carts, and probably many are now 700 miles from this place, and they must be brought here, we must send assistance to them. The text will be, ‘to get them here.’ …

“That is my religion; that is the dictation of the Holy Ghost that I possess, it is to save the people. …

“I shall call upon the Bishops this day, I shall not wait until to-morrow, nor until next day, for 60 good mule teams and 12 or 15 wagons. I do not want to send oxen, I want good horses and mules. They are in this Territory, and we must have them; also 12 tons of flour and 40 good teamsters, besides those that drive the teams. …

“I will tell you all that your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will never save one soul of you in the celestial kingdom of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. Go and bring in those people now on the plains.”2
“Save the people”—that is the command.

Wilford Woodruff Prepares for Baptisms at Benbow Farm, by Richard A. Murray. The Lord led Wilford Woodruff in the 1840s to John Benbow’s farm in Herefordshire, England. “There was a people there who had been praying for the ancient order of things,” wrote Wilford. “The consequence was, the first thirty days after I got there I baptized six hundred. … In eight month’s labor in that country I brought eighteen hundred into the Church. Why? Because there was a people prepared for the Gospel” (“Discourse,” Deseret Weekly, Nov. 7, 1896, 643).

President Henry B. Eyring, First Counselor in the First Presidency, told of witnessing a tribute to President Monson on “a country road in the deserts of Arizona” where President Monson stopped to shake hands with a couple and their small children, but ended up patiently greeting many more who appeared.
President Eyring said he has witnessed President Monson “going for the Lord to people,” usually including children, in settings across the world. “Not only were those he greeted given a golden moment, but so were those of us who saw it happen,” he said. “I am not the same, nor is any of the participants, because having felt that love, we are changed.”

These young men are members of the Church and know it’s against the Word of Wisdom to use chewing tobacco, but they took the bait when they were very young. One said, “Just last year in seminary, we were studying the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Word of Wisdom is in there. When we started studying that, it started eating at me. It bothered me quite a lot.”

A temple president recalls one situation when this challenge was handled particularly well. The bride’s parents were able to attend the ceremony, but the groom’s parents could not. During the engagement, the bride’s parents made special efforts to fellowship the groom’s parents. At the ceremony and on the temple grounds afterwards, the parents of the bride were careful to keep the guest list to a minimum, so the groom’s parents would not feel overpowered. It turned out to be a beautiful experience for all the parents, and for the bride and groom as well.

When I was growing up, whenever we got any money, my mother would take the very best bills—the ones that were the least wrinkled or dirty—and give them to the minister of the church we went to. She did this her whole life. She said, “This belongs to God.” Those words have stayed with me ever since.
When I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as an adult, it was not hard for me to pay tithing because my mother had taught me to obey that law.

Don’t focus on the troubling times. I keep a “Thankful Journal.” Every day I write at least one thing I was thankful for that day. No matter how terrible the day seemed, I can always find something to appreciate. Count your blessings. Developing a grateful attitude can help you focus on the positive things in your life.
Ashlee H., age 18, Oklahoma, USA

"Oh no! How could I call her? I wondered. Sure, she’d been in my classes at church since Star Bs, but I didn’t know her very well. She was popular at school and seemed to have everything going for her. I didn’t dare call her.
Sometimes I feel really inadequate around people. They often seem so much better than I am, and I have a hard time talking to them. When I was asked to be the group leader for our tent at girls’ camp and was assigned to call all our girls and let them know what we were supposed to do, I had no problem calling the girls who were my close friends. But there was one I just didn’t have the nerve to call.
Finally I did it. While talking to her, I stumbled over my words and nothing seemed to make sense. This is so dumb of me, I thought. Why am I such a nervous wreck? After I finished talking, I hung up, embarrassed. “I don’t even want to go to camp,” I said to myself.
The first day of camp I found a quiet spot and opened my scriptures. I came across Doctrine and Covenants 60:2 [D&C 60:2], which read, “But with some I am not well pleased, for they will not open their mouths, but they hide the talent which I have given unto them, because of the fear of man.”
That’s it! I thought. Heavenly Father doesn’t want us to feel intimidated by other people. He loves each the same, and we are all his children. From then on I decided to be friendly and see what would happen.
As camp went on, we played games together and worked together. At night we sat in our tents talking and laughing together. It turned out to be one of the best years at camp I ever had.
The last night the girl I’d worried about bore her testimony and said that at first she hadn’t wanted to come to camp either because she felt that she wouldn’t have any friends to hang around with, but now she was glad she’d come. She’d made new friends. So had I. And we both learned so much."

Floyd, a young man living in Uganda, loves to break dance, develop his talents, and serve God. At age 13, Floyd faced temptation with the Word of Wisdom. Drinking coffee and tea is normal in his village, and Floyd occasionally joined in with his friends.
After talking with his parents and reading what the scriptures teach about health, he decided to follow the Word of Wisdom. With a desire to change, Floyd prayed to Heavenly Father for forgiveness. Overcoming a bad habit takes “time and effort,” he says.
Floyd finds hope through the lyrics of his favorite hymn, “Abide with Me!” (Hymns, no. 166). “It’s a hymn that strengthens our souls,” he says.
Floyd experienced the blessings of repentance and forgiveness in his life. He finds strength through Jesus Christ. “I know that He is there for us in our challenges,” he says.

When my ballet teacher died, I brought flowers and a card to her mom. I knew she was very sad. She sent me a card back saying how happy the flowers and card made her. It made me happy that I could help her feel better and let her know that I remembered my ballet teacher.
Kahri M., age 6, Switzerland

“… The call during the day or the knock at the door at night always comes as a surprise. Someone will say, ‘Please, could you come quickly?’ Once, years ago, it was a father calling from a hospital. His three-year-old daughter had been thrown 50 feet (15m) by a speeding car as she ran across the street to join her mother. When I arrived at the hospital, the father pled that the power of the priesthood would preserve her life. The doctors and the nurses only reluctantly let us reach through a plastic barrier to place a drop of oil on the one opening in the heavy bandages which covered her head. A doctor said to me, with irritation in his voice, ‘Hurry with whatever you are going to do. She is dying.’
“He was wrong. She lived, and contrary to what the doctor had said, she not only lived, but she learned to walk again.
“When the call came I was ready. The preparation was far more than having consecrated oil close at hand. It must begin long before the crisis which requires priesthood power. Those who are prepared will be ready to answer.”

Shellie and her friends were sitting on her front porch talking.
“My daddy makes people well,” Cindy said. “He’s the most important daddy in the whole world!”
“Oh, no,” answered Robert. “My daddy’s the most important daddy in the whole world. He puts out fires!”
“Well, I think my daddy’s the most important,” said Henry. “He teaches school!”
Shellie sat and listened to her friends talk about their dads, but she didn’t say anything.
My daddy must be important, she thought, but I don’t know why.
That evening after supper Shellie’s daddy sat down on the couch to read the newspaper.
Shellie went over and cuddled up next to him.
“Daddy, is your work important?” she asked.
Daddy thought for a moment. “Yes, Shellie, my work is very important.”
“Is it more important than making people well or putting out fires or teaching school?”
Daddy thought again. “Let’s just say it’s as important,” he replied, “but not more important.”
Shellie frowned a little bit. She wanted her daddy to be the most important daddy in the whole world.
“Hey, I see a frowny face,” said Daddy. “It looks like this.” Then he made a big frowny face that was so funny Shellie laughed out loud.
“Do you know what I do to people who have frowny faces?” asked Daddy. “I tickle them.”
Shellie tried to wiggle away, but she was too late. Daddy tickled her ribs and then he tickled her chin.
“What happened to that frowny face?” Daddy asked.
Shellie laughed and laughed. She looked at Daddy’s happy face and thought, My daddy is the most important daddy in the whole world because he makes me happy!
Then Shellie put her arms around her daddy’s neck and said, “I love you!”

During his late teen years, Noel developed an addiction to alcohol. He eventually met and married my mother, Delbi, and they had four children. Through the years, his alcoholism took a toll on their marriage and after moving to San Francisco, California, USA, in their 50s, they separated. Unfortunately, he died by suicide a few years later.

My mother and I became members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints a few years before my father passed away. Some years after his death, all the vicarious temple ordinances were performed in his behalf, except for one: the sealing ordinance. At the time, I did not dare ask my mother if she wanted to be sealed to him, because I knew how strained their relationship had been.

My parents, Noel and Delbi Blanco
Then a miracle happened. My mother had a dream in which she saw her husband, Noel, outside the kitchen door in their home in Managua, extending his hand to her and inviting her to come with him. She woke up with a sweet feeling in her heart. Not too long after that, she called me one day and calmly said, “I am going to be sealed to your father this Saturday. You can come if you want.”

I replied excitedly, “Of course, I want to be there!” After our phone conversation ended, I joyfully realized that I could also be sealed to them.

On a glorious Saturday morning, my mother, my husband, and I knelt at a sacred temple altar and performed the living and vicarious sealing ordinances that gave my parents and me the opportunity to be together forever. My son was also there as proxy for my brother, who had passed away years before. At that holy moment, all the pains and sorrows were forgotten. We all felt the soothing and healing balm that our Savior, Jesus Christ, offers us through His Atonement, on both sides of the veil.

I remember how happy I felt. In all my 12-year-old life, I had never had this much fun. I had gone to an amusement park with a friend and her family where we proceeded to eat (so it seemed) several hundred pounds of junk food, ride every ride at least twice, get sunburned, and just generally have a great time. At the end of the day we were ready to take a break, so we chose a lazy, gondola-type ride.
We got into a car with two other girls who seemed to be about our age. We smiled at them, said hello, and continued the conversation we were having before we got on the ride. I could sense the two girls were staring at us.
“Hi,” I said again, uneasily trying to force a smile on my face.
“We were hoping no one would be on this car with us,” said one, shooting me an ugly look. “Well, do you mind if we smoke a joint?”
I glanced at my friend. She wasn’t moving or saying anything; she just looked at me as if to say, “What do we do now?”
I wanted that girl to vanish. I wanted to run away. My mind was racing. What she was suggesting was not only against my standards; it was against the law. I searched for the right words, but I was so nervous I just started blurting things out.
“No … I mean yes … Of course we would mind … What I mean is DON‘T DO IT.”
When the ride finally touched down, my friend and I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. As soon as we were out of earshot, my friend turned to me and said, “Well, I guess you told them.” Then she winked at me.
We both started to laugh. I had probably looked pretty silly, but I got my point across, and I felt good about that.
On that ride, I didn’t have the presence of mind to think about what I was doing. My actions that day were a direct and automatic result of what I had decided long before—to mind my parents and, more importantly, to mind my Father in Heaven. My commitment as a young Primary girl to stand up for what I knew was right had come to my rescue that day, several years later, high above the ground.

Recently I visited a small grove of sequoia trees planted many years ago on the Brigham Young University campus. A friend of mine explained to me that sequoias are the world’s largest trees and that they can grow to 286 feet (87 m) tall in the wild. They can live more than 3,000 years.

One of the trees died and needed to be cut down, leaving only a stump to remind anyone passing by that a tall, majestic tree once stood there. The campus arborist wanted to know what had killed the tree, as the sequoia certainly did not die of old age. After an examination, he determined that the tree’s feeding roots had died from a lack of water.

How was that possible since the tree had flourished there for more than five decades? The arborist discovered that the aquifer that nourished the little grove had shifted as an unintended consequence of the construction of a new building, just east of the grove.

To me this is a perfect analogy of what happens when stalwart Church members—the “very elect,” those who for all appearances seem to stand tall and erect in the faith—die spiritually.

Like the dead sequoia, these Church members once received their spiritual nourishment from the well of living water offered by Jesus Christ. But for one reason or another, they have shifted away from the source of spiritual nourishment, and without that nourishment their spirit was dulled, and they eventually died spiritually.

Jayden’s town had a big flood. Some people’s houses got lots of water and mud inside. Mom and Dad were putting cans of food, towels, and other things in a big box to help people.
Jayden wanted to help too. “What can I do?” he asked.
“You could give a toy to a child whose toys were ruined in the flood,” Mom said.
Jayden ran to his room and looked at his toys. None of them seemed just right. Then he saw Fluffy, his favorite stuffed animal.
Jayden thought for a minute. He picked up Fluffy and gave him a big hug. Then he ran to put him in the box.
Mom looked surprised. “Are you sure you want to give Fluffy away?”
Jayden felt sad, but he nodded.
That night when Jayden said his prayers, he said, “Thank Thee, Heavenly Father, for letting us help people.”
Jayden missed Fluffy, but he also felt happy inside. He was glad he had shared.

How those words touched me! It had been 15 years ago that the Book of Mormon became an integral part of David’s life. I had read it to him as he lay in bed, at life’s edge.
“What are you reading, Mommy?” David asked in the faintest whisper of a sound. His delicate face closely matched the color of the snowy pillowcase. Deep red drops of blood, descending from a bottle suspended above, provided a vivid contrast as they dropped through a tube into his motionless white arm.
“The Book of Mormon,” I replied. It helped me through the endless hours of watching my son fight a seemingly insurmountable battle. It was supposed to be minor surgery to correct a small health problem, but the whole procedure had become a nightmare. Face to face with the fragile quality of mortality, I groped for an anchor with eternity.
“Read it to me,” David said.
“But you wouldn’t understand it, David,” I told him. “You’re too young. Later, when you’re well and at home, I’ll read you some stories from the Book of Mormon.”
Again the whispered words, urgent this time. “Please read it to me, Mommy.”
Not knowing what else to do, and not wishing to further upset him, I began in First Nephi: “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents, …” I intended to read a few lines while he drifted off to sleep, and then continue my silent reading. Every time I thought he was asleep, my voice quieted and quit. Then, from the hospital bed, again and again, I heard, “Read it to me.”
And so I read it to him. I read all during the hospital stay, and then at home, where he lay attached to two tubes that drained fluids from his body into bags, one on each leg. Doctors had discovered a congenital defect that gave him only part of one kidney.
I did not read stories from the Book of Mormon. I read from the book itself. One morning, after David’s two sisters had gone to school and his two little brothers were sleeping, we sat together reading as usual. I stopped and looked down at him. “David, do you understand this?”
His blue eyes looked thoughtfully into mine. “Not all. But some of it.”
When I continued reading he stopped me and said, “Mother, kneel down.” Startled by the request, I simply knelt, feeling his small body at my side. Then, totally trusting, he said, “Now pray for me. Pray that I will understand the Book of Mormon.”
By the time we finished the book, David had turned five and was able to recognize and read many of the words on his own. Eventually he read alone. His health improved and, by the time he was baptized, he had read the whole thing by himself more than once. By the time he was ordained a deacon, he was eagerly preparing for a mission.