Gospel Story Finder

It was a busy summer for Matt Morris, a senior at Indio (California) High School. Just before the spring term ended, he was elected student body-president of the 2,500-student school and was also chosen to represent the United States in a series of wrestling tournaments in Japan.
Matt, who was named most outstanding wrestler on his school’s junior varsity team last season and who has also competed on the varsity squad the past two years, was selected for the trip to Japan on the basis of wrestling, scholastic achievement, and citizenship.
“He is a leader and leads by doing things right,” said his wrestling coach, John Rice, upon announcing the selection. “He is very coachable and a real student of wrestling, as well as being outstanding both academically and morally. We tried to choose somebody who would be a good representative of the United States, and with Matt there was just no question.”
The team, made up of wrestlers from the Southern California Section of the Amateur Athletic Union, would take part in as many as ten matches during a 25-day stay in Japan in August.
Matt is an active member of Indio Ward, Palm Springs California Stake, and has served as president of the deacons and teachers quorums and as vice president of his school class.
“I was certainly surprised but also thrilled and honored to be able to represent our country in Japan,” he said. “I know that there are better wrestlers than I am at our school and that other things were involved in the decision. It’s nice to know that doing your best and trying to be good can have its rewards.”
The 16-year-old youth, who has nearly a straight A average, has won awards for his piano-playing ability, breeds pigeons for a hobby, and is quick to acknowledge that support from his family has been important in his busy life.
“The willingness of my family to help me has made it possible for me to put so much time into wrestling and my other activities,” he said.

I’ve told the story about the little baby, nine months old, who was born blind. The father came up to me one Sunday and said, “Brother Cowley, our baby hasn’t been blessed yet. We’d like you to bless him.”

I said, “Why have you waited so long?”

“Oh, we just didn’t get around to it.”

That’s the native way; I like that. They just don’t get around to doing things. Why not live and enjoy it?

I said, “All right. What’s the name?”

He told me the name, and I was just going to start when he said, “By the way, give him his vision when you give him a name. He was born blind.”

It shocked me, but then I said to myself, “Why not?” Christ said to His disciples when He left them, “Greater works than these shall [ye] do” (John 14:12). I had faith in that father’s faith.

After I gave that child his name, I finally got around to giving him his vision.

That boy is about twelve years old now. The last time I was back there, I was afraid to inquire about him. I was sure he had gone blind again. That’s the way my faith works sometimes. I asked the branch president about him.

He said, “Brother Cowley, the worst thing you ever did was to bless that child to receive his vision. He’s the meanest kid in this neighborhood, always getting into mischief.”

Boy, I was thrilled about that kid getting into mischief!

Prior to my introduction to the restored gospel, I spent much of my time playing soccer, including games on the Sabbath day. Even though I had been brought up to have respect for the Lord’s day, it was through applying the principle after I came in contact with the Church that I gained an understanding of the doctrine and its blessings. Withdrawing from the Sunday league team was one of the significant sacrifices that led to my conversion. It helped me appreciate the value of the gospel in my life.
Three years later, when work commenced on building the Norwich chapel, I also withdrew from the Saturday league team so that I could make my contribution to the building project. The mist of self-interest that had previously restricted my vision was beginning to disperse, and a new panoramic view was emerging, bringing with it a deeper appreciation for and an increasing love of life.

In 1890–91, earnest efforts were being made to establish the beet sugar industry in our territory. Because of the financial panic of 1891, many who had signed (pledged to buy) for stock were unable to pay what they had pledged and I was sent east to secure the funds needed to establish the industry. Having failed in New York and Hartford to obtain all of the money required, I was subsequently sent to San Francisco, where one hundred thousand dollars was secured from Mr. Henry Wadsworth, cashier of Wells, Fargo and Company’s bank in that city. I am confident that my having been faithful when a boy in his employ, at the time he was agent of Wells, Fargo and Company, in Salt Lake City, had some influence in causing him to loan to my associates such a large sum, at a time when there was a great demand for money.

By my own effort, for example, I can stop eating chocolate. Susan went 14 years without eating chocolate. That required true grit. But it did not eliminate her appetite for chocolate. God can do more with us than we can do by ourselves. He can change our spiritual palates, as it were. He can change our taste not just for chocolate but for sin. He can even help us like the spiritual equivalents of broccoli, or Brussels sprouts, or poi.

I love this example from the life of George Q. Cannon, from his first mission to Hawaii, which illustrates this point.

“Before leaving Lahaina, I had tasted a teaspoonful of ‘poi;’ but the smell of it and the calabash in which it was contained was so much like that of a book-binder’s old, sour paste-pot that when I put it to my mouth I gagged at it, and would have vomited had I swallowed it. But in traveling among the people I soon learned that if I did not eat ‘poi’ I would put them to great inconvenience; for they would have to cook separate food for me every meal. This would make me burdensome to them, and might interfere with my success. I, therefore, determined to learn to live on their food, and, that I might do so, I asked the Lord to make it sweet to me. My prayer was heard and answered; the next time I tasted it, I ate a bowlful, and I positively liked it” (Cannon, My First Mission, 24-26).

As I said, I don’t know how the Lord can change either our palate or our heart, but I know that He can. For Elder Cannon the change came through his determination (“I determined to live on their food”) and God’s help (“I asked the Lord to make it sweet to me.”) For us, too, the sanctification generally comes through grit and grace.

Some time ago, I felt impressed to embark on a road trip to visit family in Salt Lake City, an eight-hour drive from our home in Colorado. With little planning, I loaded up our three young daughters and began the trek. We left later in the day than was wise. My husband stayed behind due to prior commitments. It was an unseasonably warm October day both in Denver, where we lived, and in Salt Lake, so I grossly underestimated the wintry roads ahead as Interstate 80 crosses Wyoming.
We started our journey uneventfully, but temperatures dropped quickly as we gained elevation. I became nervous and full of doubt. Our van had new tires but no four-wheel drive. I hadn’t packed warm clothes or blankets. I was terribly unprepared for something to go wrong. I pulled over to check road conditions and decided to press forward, but a few hours later I was white-knuckle driving in the worst snowstorm of my life.
I laughed and sang with my kids so they wouldn’t sense my unease. I knew this stretch of interstate was no stranger to terrible weather-related accidents. Large snowflakes streaked past the windshield in heavy sheets and blurred my vision. I could hardly make out a landmark anywhere on the road.
I dreaded the occasional 18-wheeler throwing snow and slush across the windshield as it passed. I watched several vehicles slide off the road into ever-deepening snowbanks. I knew I was in trouble. The pressure I felt to keep my girls warm and safe weighed on me as we crept slowly along in the dark.
Suddenly, I felt my phone buzz with a notification.
I had been ignoring my messages to focus on the road but glanced down and saw that my brother, who I thought was home in Texas, had texted me: “We are passing through a bad blizzard in the middle of Wyoming.” I was surprised to learn that my brother and his wife were just a few miles ahead in the storm. They were en route to Idaho in a vehicle much safer than mine and well prepared for cold weather. Our intersection was no coincidence. The storm persisted, but I was not alone.
I called them. Relief washed over me as they talked me through the blizzard. At times, they didn’t have good news. At one point, fatigued from the tedious driving, I asked if the roads ahead had cleared up. “It’s pretty bad around mile marker 280,” my brother responded. “Take your time.”
Soon, I completely lost visibility and resorted to keeping my right front tire along the rumble strip on the side of the road. For many long minutes I continued forward, trusting only the sound of those vibrations to keep us safe on the road. Finally, the skies cleared, and I stopped for the night at a hotel, too exhausted to go on.
I never saw my brother and his wife, but I knew they were there. I didn’t realize how panicked I would have felt without their guidance until my kids were safe and warm in our hotel room. My brother’s knowledge of the specific path ahead gave me the perspective I needed to keep moving forward. Without him, my fear of the next snowy mountain pass might have left me highly reactive, and one anxious tap of the brakes could have sent us off the road.
Here I was, trying to make it to the safety and familiarity of my parents’ home, and my older brother showed up to trudge the path before me. How sad it would have been if I had driven this road never knowing that he was ahead and never accessing the peace available to me. Just as our Savior is there for us, my brother was there even when I couldn’t see him.

Something else also keeps Camila and Abel busy: Being prepared. Eight-year-old Camila was recently baptized and confirmed, and 11-year-old Abel is looking forward to receiving the Aaronic Priesthood soon. Both say it is important to prepare carefully for these steps in life.
“I wanted to be baptized,” says Camila, “because I wanted to feel closer to Heavenly Father and be strong in the Church.”
Talking with the bishop has helped too. “When I met with the bishop,” says Camila, “he said I should ask Heavenly Father if I should be baptized. So I prayed and asked God, and He told me yes. I felt the answer in my soul.”
Camila and Abel feel that all of the preparation has been worth it. “When my father baptized me,” says Camila, “I felt joy. When he gave me the gift of the Holy Ghost, I felt as if I were in a temple. The Holy Ghost helps me feel at peace and come closer to God. He helps me know right from wrong.”

Friday we had what I call a "perfect moment in time." Things got so busy during the week that we didn't plan a date. Our kids eventually settled in front of a movie though, so we snuck out and headed for Dairy Queen in my old truck, which is the perfect date vehicle because it has a bench seat and my wife can sit right next to me. There wasn't much time, so we went through the drive-through and got our ice cream and a basket of fries. On our way back we stopped at a light, and I turned to Bonnie and said, "It doesn't get any better than this. This is every man's dream: to eat ice cream, snuggled up next to the woman he loves, in a truck that smells like french fries." The radio wasn't on at the time, but I swear I could hear Journey playing in the background.

Belonging to Relief Society is critical for newly baptized sisters and, by extension, their families. While serving with my husband as he presided over the England London South Mission, I met many new converts—like Gloria, a single mother. When she joined the Church, she joined Relief Society. It was a safe place where she could ask questions about her newfound faith. She heard women openly share their experiences, which led her to experiment upon the word of God. She’s received her patriarchal blessing; she’s been to the temple; she serves in the Church. I think of President Hinckley’s counsel to me: “[Women] need to be together in an environment that bolsters faith.” Relief Society provides such an environment.

Once there were two boys who lived next door to each other. Although they were of the same age, they couldn’t seem to get along together. Then one day, everything started to change. Here are the testimonies they recently gave at the Applewood Ward, Arvada Colorado Stake, where they are both deacons.
“Dear brothers and sisters, my talk today is on friendship, and the story I want to tell you is about how a boy and I became true friends. This boy’s name is Matt. I used to call him ‘Mean Matt,’ and he would get mad and start fighting with me. We would get in fist fights or throw rocks at each other. I would beat him for fun and for revenge. Sometimes he would go home with a swollen eye or a bleeding nose.
“I would always attract the attention of this friend and try to make him very jealous. Sometimes he would get angry and try to get revenge, but I won most of our fights. But often, underneath it all, he made me feel jealous—once he got a new bike, and he did things with his family. Then one night he invited me over to a meeting called family home evening. That’s when I became interested in the Church. I was later baptized.
“This story is a true story about my next-door neighbor Matt Taylor. We both became very active in the Church. We enjoy Scouting, and now we do things together without any fights or trouble. I am thankful Matt brought me into the Church, and I hope that you can bring someone into the Church so they can have the same feeling I have.” (Shawn Bell.)

I am acquainted with a family which came to America from Germany. The English language was difficult for them. They had but little by way of means, but each was blessed with the will to work and with a love of God.
Their third child was born, lived but two months, and then died. Father was a cabinetmaker and fashioned a beautiful casket for the body of his precious child. The day of the funeral was gloomy, thus reflecting the sadness they felt in their loss. As the family walked to the chapel, with Father carrying the tiny casket, a small number of friends had gathered. However, the chapel door was locked. The busy bishop had forgotten the funeral. Attempts to reach him were futile. Not knowing what to do, the father placed the casket under his arm and, with his family beside him, carried it home, walking in a drenching rain.
If the family were of a lesser character, they could have blamed the bishop and harbored ill feelings. When the bishop discovered the tragedy, he visited the family and apologized. With the hurt still evident in his expression, but with tears in his eyes, the father accepted the apology, and the two embraced in a spirit of understanding. No hidden wedge was left to cause further feelings of anger. Love and acceptance prevailed.

Sixteen-year-old Mai-Anh Doan, her older sister, and two young brothers were separated from their family during the confusion and chaos of the Saigon airlift in April 1975. The entire Saigon Branch of the Church, some 250 men, women, and children, was on the approved evacuation list, but the airlift came to a sudden halt when shelling of the airport damaged the runway so heavily that transport planes could no longer use it. Helicopters were sent in to evacuate as many as they could hold until even they could not safely enter or leave the area.
Mai-Anh and her sister, members of the Saigon Vietnam Branch, waited at the airport for three days to be evacuated. They sat together praying and crying and hoping for the best as incoming shells whistled overhead and exploded on and near the runway. The war had never been so close to them.
Like most others in the Saigon Branch, Mai-Anh was happy with her life in Vietnam. She loved the Church and her country. She did not want to leave but could not and dared not stay. As she took her place on one of the helicopters to be evacuated to safety, her thoughts were of her parents and family who were still on the ground waiting for their turn to board one of the helicopters. She was very much afraid. As the huge, dual-rotored helicopter lifted her through the clouds, she could not hold back tears of despair even as she, with happiness and great relief, thanked God for her safe passage out of Vietnam.
Mai-Anh, her sister, and two brothers were reunited with the rest of their family in Guam about a week after leaving Vietnam. It was a week they will never forget, traveling into the unknown due to circumstances they did not understand. The U.S. Navy ship Deluth was packed stem to stern with thousands of Vietnamese in similar circumstances. As crowded as it was, Mai-Anh’s loneliness nearly consumed her. The fate of her family was a mystery; the life she had known was in shambles. This was surely the lowest point in her young life. As hungry as she was, on Fast Sunday, far out in the Pacific Ocean, she and her sister fasted and prayed for the safety of her parents and other family members. How great was her joy when her father met the bus which took her from the ship to the refugee camp! All of her family were safe! About 60 of the displaced Vietnamese LDS were taken to Guam after the airlift and shared the same barracks.

At a time in the early Roman Empire; a long time even before Jesus walked the earth, the Romans were putting up with a rebellious group of people who inhabited the Italian peninsula among whom were a group called the Falerians. The Falerians had declared their independence from Rome and felt comfortable that the Romans could do nothing about it due to the exceptionally strong wall and other fortifications that encompassed their city. After the Falerians' independence was declared, the Romans sent one of their best generals, a man by the name of Camillus, to put down the rebellion and bring them back under Roman rule.

When Camillus saw the great fortifications, he knew he was in for a long and difficult siege. In fact, all he felt he could do was surround the city and wait until something, hopefully in his favor, might occur. But the siege went on and on with no end in sight.

Since the Romans were camped quite far away from the wall, to be out of range of the Falerian archers, occasionally Falerian citizens would venture a little ways outside of the wall for short periods. Sometimes even the children would go outside the walls to play. In fact, all of the Falerian children happened to be under the tutelage of one schoolmaster. This schoolmaster, occasionally, would lead them a little outside the wall so they could get some exercise. However, little did they know that this schoolmaster, who felt that the Romans would eventually win the war, saw an opportunity to gain the Roman's favor by betraying the Falerian children into their hands. Day after day, the schoolmaster led the children a little farther away from the wall, until the time came when he was able to deliver the children to the Roman camp. He explained to the Romans that they could use the children's lives as barter to force the Falerians to surrender their city.

Shortly after their children had gone outside of the wall, the Falerians realized what had happened. And looking afar off, and seeing their children as captives of the Romans, the Falerians experienced unimaginable agony. The city became a site full of weeping and wailing. Parents were screaming, terrified they would lose their children. Also, the Falerian leaders now knew that the war was lost.

Camillus, the Roman general, upon hearing of this betrayal, and seeing the Falerian children and their schoolmaster in his camp, realized that this act would win the war for him and bring him great glory. But Camillus was one of those rare individuals who put honor and integrity before dubious cultural rewards. According to the Roman historian Plutarch, Camillus said, "War, indeed, is of necessity attended with much injustice and violence! Certain laws, however, all good men observe even in war itself, nor is victory so great an object as to induce us to incur for its sake obligations for base and impious acts. A great general should rely on his own virtue, and not on other men's vices."

At that point Camillus ordered the schoolmaster's hands to be bound behind him. He then had his soldiers cut pieces of branches that the children could use to whip their schoolmaster. Camillus then ordered the children to whip their schoolmaster all the way back to the city. Well, you can imagine, the shock and the relief the parents felt when they witnessed their children running happily and laughing as they whipped the schoolmaster back to the city.

Well, after that incident occurred, the Falerians thought that maybe the Romans weren't so bad after all. They opened up peace negotiations with Camillus and the whole affair was soon settled. So, war was avoided and many people ended up being the beneficiaries of Camillus' willingness to put honor and integrity before his culture's strong emphasis on conquest, fame, glory, and victory.

Often as a young girl I would accompany my bishop father to the church and wait until his meetings or interviews were over. I would busy myself by exploring. I knew every nook and cranny of that building. One of my favorite rooms was the tower room. It was a large room at the top of some steep steps. Inside there was a picture of the Savior, which hung over a large fireplace. I was always drawn to that room. I would ascend the steps and reverently go inside. I would sit on a chair and look at the picture of the Savior and pray to Heavenly Father. These were simple prayers. But always when I prayed, a very special feeling seemed to engulf me, and I knew that He heard my childlike prayers. This is where I began to believe.

“The Book of Mormon has been the instrument for my conversion. I really love it,” says Elder Walter F. González.
Born on 18 November 1952, he grew up in Montevideo, Uruguay. At 12, he was studying his English lessons on a bus one day when two missionaries saw him and asked, “Do you speak English?”
From this first contact, young Walter received a copy of the Book of Mormon. Six years later, when he first began to read it, he says, “I knew it was true after just a few pages of 1 Nephi.” His parents, Fermin and Victoria González, had taught him Christian values that helped him recognize and receive the restored gospel.

I love President Gordon B. Hinckley very much. He called me to be a Seventy in 1990. I was the first Chilean called as a General Authority. It was a beautiful moment in my life. However, when I was called, I didn’t speak any English. President Hinckley, who was then First Counselor in the First Presidency, blessed me when he set me apart that I would learn English quickly.
I have two gifts that helped me to learn English quickly. My first gift is a good memory. That has been my salvation in many jobs. The other gift is my persistence. If I have a job to do, I work and work at it until it’s done. When I began to learn English at age fifty-two, I studied it five hours a day, when I had time. I listened to audio tapes every morning, then studied grammar for an hour, which was difficult for me. After that, I read the conference talks in English and listened to them on tape at the same time. I memorized about ten new vocabulary words per day. Then I read aloud in English to practice pronunciation, and I listened to English on an international news station so that I could test my understanding of what was said.
Six months after being called as a General Authority, I prepared intensely for giving my first general conference talk in English. My talk was on the Word of Wisdom.
I have had experiences with seven prophets of the Church, from President David O. McKay until now. They have all been great leaders. Now it is a blessing for the Church to have the presence of President Hinckley. It is easy to love him and to express our love to him. He is very warm with us, and he loves us.
I am grateful for all you marvelous children in the Church, and I ask you to follow Jesus Christ, our beloved Leader.

In March 1946 Elder Ezra Taft Benson, then of the Quorum of the Twelve, visited Czechoslovakia. He was pleased to find that the Czech people were cheerfully at work and that the Church had been as resilient as the country. Ten baptisms had been performed during the war. When Elder Benson inquired at government offices about reopening the mission, he found that the Church had an excellent reputation and would be welcomed back. On 28 June 1946, three missionaries reentered Czechoslovakia, including Wallace Toronto, who had never been released as president. Members had waited seven long years for this reunion.

Walter C., age 15, Jaén, Peru
For a long time I was the only member in my school. My closest friends seemed to understand me, but other school friends made fun of me. One day I prayed and felt the need to talk with one of them who encouraged the others to make fun of me. I explained that I didn’t feel angry at him, but I asked him to give me the respect he’d like to have. After hearing our conversation, one of my teachers always defended me when he saw something happen. I know that the Lord will be with you as you talk with these people.

Becki: Yes, I think so because the more exposure you have to anything, the more acceptable it usually becomes. I know that when I was in Mutual, short dresses were the style. Since everybody else seemed to be wearing them, I didn’t really notice that mine were actually too short, too. But when I came to BYU and had to lengthen a lot of my skirts, I realized that I had unconsciously lowered my dress standards to fit those around me. Now when I go home it is a big cultural shock, especially to see even some Mormons wearing halter tops and sundresses.

Eighteen-year-old Keri Ainge of Sutton Coldfield, England, barely caught her breath after baptism before she was totally immersed in missionary work, both for the living and for the dead.
Keri helped the missionaries teach her own mother, and then together she and her mother started sorting out their family history. They’ve researched six generations back into the 1700s. “We searched one graveyard at Hockley, Birmingham, for three days hunting for one great-grandparent’s grave,” said Keri. “It was amazing when we found the right one.”
Keri has also spent several weeks helping the sister missionaries in Coventry and Northampton. This helped her love the work so much she’s determined to serve a full-time mission of her own just as soon as she turns 21.