Gospel Story Finder

On December 4, 1986, two American missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints knocked on the door of my father’s house. Although Father let the missionaries visit regularly, he was never interested in the message. A few months later he divorced Mother and remarried.

When Father informed the missionaries of the sad news of our broken family, he also told them not to come back.

The missionaries left a copy of the Book of Mormon with the address of the nearest church written on the inside cover and said, “We will always be your friends. If there is anything we can do for your family, come to this address, and you will find us there.”

Saying good-bye to the missionaries that evening was difficult, for I had felt something precious in their message.

Stepmother moved in. She and Father became cruel, life became hard, and I became a cynical teenager.

One night, when I could take their horrible treatment no longer, I dashed out the door in fear and hid in the rice fields, lonely, depressed, and hopeless. I wanted to run away, but I had nowhere to go.

Suddenly I remembered what the elders had said during their last visit. “First thing tomorrow, I am going back to find my friends!” I told myself, feeling a sense of inner peace for the first time in years.

Early the next morning I hopped on my bike and went downtown to the church, but the elders who had visited my family a couple of years before had returned home. Just when I was about to give up, two friendly ladies with the familiar black name tags on their coats approached me and introduced themselves.

A month after I met the sister missionaries, I was baptized, in November 1988, the first convert in my family.

Our letters cross in the mail.
I tell a joke,
you smile 15 days later.
I write “Happy Birthday”
a month in advance.
I see the full moon
after you’ve awakened
the next day.
We both see waves
from different oceans.
Half a world apart,
I remember you
at the breakfast table
one Saturday morning
after you told
me straight-faced
how beautiful I looked
with my tousled hair
straggling into my puffy eyes.
I think I punched you in
the arm and you pretended
to fall to the floor dead.
You got me later,
tickle-torturing me
until I could hardly breathe.
I wish I could tickle you back
and hear you laugh now
instead of in a few weeks.

Matt enjoyed the letters that came from Brazil. In one letter, Nate described the excitement of the people when President Hinckley went to Brazil to dedicate a temple near them. Nate knew one family who had the opportunity to personally talk with President Hinckley. They later bore testimony of him as a true prophet of God.

Concert dates in London, Paris, Innsbruck, Munich, and Vienna were all a part of Natalie Beck’s summer this year.
The 18-year-old clarinetist from Lake Charles, Louisiana, was one of 95 students across the country chosen by the Purdue University director of bands to participate with the U.S. Collegiate Wind Band in a two-month tour of the European cultural capitals. She was a member of the West Lake High School Band at the time of her selection.
Natalie is active in the Lake Charles Ward of the Beaumont Texas Stake and serves as an organist.

I’ve been grateful for the experience I had under the tutelage of my own father to wash with Castile soap the harnesses and grease them to preserve them. I learned to paint the picket fence, the water tank, the carriage shed, the granary, the buggy and the wagon, and finally the house. And since the days when I wore the occasional blister on my hands, I have not been sorry for those experiences.

Photograph by German Sittner
Gabriel J., 17, from Curitiba, Brazil, is a convert to the Church. The first time he went to church, he thought it was strange. But he soon got used to it, thanks in part to the friendly members in his ward, and he was eventually baptized.
When he talked with a returned missionary in his ward, Gabriel started thinking about serving a mission. “I got home and started kind of crying,” he says. “I didn’t know why. But I knelt and asked if I should serve a mission. At that very moment, I had a feeling of peace, and I received the answer that I really should serve a mission.”
Many of his goals are focused on preparing to serve a mission, both spiritually and physically. They include graduating from seminary, running, and developing better nutrition. He says he hopes his physical goal will prepare him to not get tired easily and to walk for longer amounts of time.
Gabriel notices the changes in himself since he joined the Church. “When I became a member of the Church, I was able, with the help of my leaders, to know what I wanted for my life, and that has changed a lot. Now I have a goal in my life, and I’m studying a lot too.”

Ahhh, the warm, comforting smell of bread baking has spread to the homes of several Laurels of the Patuxent Ward, Suitland Maryland Stake. The girls are involved in a service project that helps fulfill a value project for their Young Womanhood Recognition. In order to learn the skill of baking bread and to serve the ward members, they have been taking turns providing homemade loaves of bread for the sacrament.
Each girl takes a turn that lasts for six weeks. This time provides ample experience in improving her bread-making skills. The ward members noticed the change from commercially produced bread, as their bishop announced the service project to the congregation. Bishop Scott Shumway said the practice loaves were a delicious addition to their family dinners.
The homemade bread, blessed and served each week, has made the girls more aware of roles they can play in providing this service to the members.
“It was a time to appreciate the sacrament more. Also, I’ve had lessons about supporting the priesthood, and making the bread for the weekly service seemed like a really good way to do that. It made me happy to make it,” said Bethany Shumway, the bishop’s daughter.
Also, Megan Prettyman felt their bread enhanced her appreciation of the ordinance. “It seemed to make it more personal since I had spent three hours the day before making the bread. I thought about the sacrament all during that time, not just during the meeting.”
Meagan Boswell was impressed with the ward members’ reactions. “People thanked us for taking the time and said how it made them think more about the sacrament that week. It was nice to have something to share with the whole ward.”

After ten wonderful days in Honolulu, we set sail on the last leg of our long voyage. It was spent preparing for war. A former soldier trained the men for battle.
While we sailed, fifty to sixty men drilled for combat. They marched around the deck and practiced loading and aiming their guns. My friends and I had make-believe battles with my lead soldiers. The women kept busy stitching bolts of blue denim into uniforms for the troops.
On Friday, July 31, 1846, one month after leaving the Sandwich Islands—and nearly six months after leaving New York—we finally approached the California coast. Men, women, and children crowded the deck, eager to see where we would land at last. I tried to get a glimpse of land myself, but dense fog hung like a heavy, dark curtain in front of all of us.
The rocky shores of the Golden Gate strait were almost invisible when Captain Richardson carefully guided the Brooklyn through the narrow passage that opens into San Francisco Bay.
As eager as we were to land, we were even more anxious as to what awaited us. Would we find enemy ships in the harbor? Or Mexican soldiers on the shore? Did hidden spies watch as the Brooklyn moved slowly ahead?
Now and then the fog lifted over the bay and we could see the shore. There were no trees at all; the ground was the color of dry grass. Pelicans glided just above the surface of the water. They looked too heavy to fly any higher. Other birds, some dark, some white, soared and swooped over the waves. Occasionally we spotted bumps that looked like islands.
A shadowy shape gradually appeared in the distance. Was it a ship? Friend or foe? A wisp of something fluttered. Was it just a ribbon of fog streaking in the breeze, or was it a Mexican flag? I held my breath as we drew closer and saw a ship anchored in the harbor. The banner flapping in the wind was covered with stars and stripes! The American flag! Yerba Buena had already been captured for the United States. I couldn’t wait to go ashore, to have room to run and romp, to have a private place to think—and to eat a family meal cooked by Mama.
I studied the landing place. After the breathtaking beauty of the Juan Fernández and the Sandwich islands, Yerba Buena was downright ugly! There was nothing green at all. Skeletons of slaughtered cattle covered the sandy beach.
Droghers (clumsy barges) waited in the bay to carry their cargo of tallow and hides to the east coast. A few tired donkeys, loaded with bundles of wood, trudged along with their heads down. Some lazy loungers sprawled on the shore.
I also saw a few scrubby, gray oaks. Beyond them, a series of sand hills rose one behind the other. Several old shanties all leaned in the same direction.
While I stood on the deck, cannons from the battery boomed a salute, and the greeting was returned by the Brooklyn. A rowboat with uniformed officers from the Portsmouth, a United States military ship, approached us, and the men came aboard. One of them announced, “Ladies and gentleman, I have the honor to inform you that you are in the United States of America.”
The passengers aboard the Brooklyn gave three hearty cheers. Our long voyage was over at last.

On 18 September 2021, the Southwark Multi-Faith Forum held its long-awaited interfaith walk. This walk usually takes place on a yearly basis but, due to the COVID-19 pandemic, it had to be cancelled in 2020. The event was aptly themed “Faith—More in Common in a Time of COVID”.
The starting point was the historic Southwark Cathedral 1 , where walkers were welcomed by the canon precentor of the cathedral, the Rev. Canon Andrew Zihni. In his remarks he drew attention to two art installations. The first, which had recently been transferred to another location in the country, was entitled “Please Believe These Days Will Pass”. The second, still in place, was entitled “Leaves of the Tree”, by Peter Walker. It consisted of 5,000 leaves cut from steel, on each of which was carved the word hope. They were displayed on the floor of the sanctuary, giving the impression of fallen autumn leaves.
Both pieces of art, the reverend remarked, reflected a belief and attitude regarding the pandemic, namely that “even in the darkest hour, light will break through”. A sentence from the information display read: “The leaves symbolise the past, what has transpired, as we hope for a better future.”
This piece of art certainly generated much conversation amongst participants in the walk as they examined it and reflected on its message.
Following this, Rabbi Nathan Godleman provided interesting insights into the establishment and tenets of the South London Liberal Synagogue, and its beginnings in Streatham, southwest London.
The walk then moved on to St Hugh’s Church, Bermondsey, which is a sister church to Southwark Cathedral. Here, The Reverend Canon Michael Rawson spoke about the history of the building and the diversity of its parishioners. His talk included an introduction to their interfaith exhibit, an abstract painting titled “Journey Through the Wilderness—The Wilderness Panels.” It consisted of five panels, each representing the world religions of Judaism, Hinduism, Christianity, Islam, and Buddhism. The painting attracted a great deal of interest and discussion, acting as a reminder of the similarities that can bind people of different faiths. It also beautifully demonstrated the essence of the interfaith walk.
This point was further emphasised at the next venue, the Baitul Aziz Islamic Cultural Centre, near Harper Road, where the imam, in his contribution, noted the significance of love, respect, unity and service in all faith traditions.
As the walk progressed in glorious sunshine, the enthusiasm and energy of the participants was palpable, and conversations were joyful. This was very likely due to over 18 months of extremely restricted movement.
The next destination was The London Friendship Centre at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Walworth, southeast London. There, Kyan Pucks and Samira Ciotti gave an enlightening introduction to the foundation and principles of the Baha’i Faith.
The final presentation was by Christopher Cooke, president of the Wandsworth Stake, London. Despite a lack of time, due to the interesting and engaging questions from participants, he provided a great overview of the establishment of the Church and its historical context, including remarks that affirmed its Christian tradition and how it began in England. Importantly, he highlighted the purpose of the friendship centre as a community resource to support refugees and others who may be struggling.
Each presentation included time for questions, which helped to enhance the knowledge and understanding of individuals and the group. All too soon, four hours came to an end, but the friendshipping continued for some time after, while being treated to a barbeque hosted by the friendship centre.
The success of the whole event was evidenced by participants lingering and talking for as long as it was possible. Many were enlightened and edified. The event ended as it began, recognising and appreciating the diversity of all, while focusing on the things that are held in common.
Community friendships and relationships were built, reestablished, and strengthened. Indeed, Musharraf Chaudhury, chair of the Southwark Multi-Faith Forum. remarked: “A fantastic day of sunshine, amazing venues and great speakers. It was so wonderful to see so many friends and colleagues in person after such uncertain and challenging times. Thank you to everyone involved in making what many commented as the best walk they have been on. It was an amazing display of diversity, togetherness and hope for the future.”

Seven-year-old Íngrid Fabiola Martínez Barredo knows something about temples. When she was five years old, she and her parents were sealed as an eternal family in the México City México Temple. The trip took eighteen hours each way on a bus crowded with members from their ward and stake. Like many members in Tuxtla Gutiérrez, she is thankful to have a temple just minutes away in her own city now.
Even though the long trip to the temple was uncomfortable, Íngrid and the other Primary children accompanying their parents to the temple did their best to make it pleasant. “They sang their favorite hymns and songs on the way, such as ‘Count Your Blessings’ and ‘I Am a Child of God,’”* her dad, Javier, said. Several members on the bus thanked the children for helping make the trip more enjoyable.

Primary children of the Sarasota Ward, Sarasota Florida Stake, earned blocks to build the Nauvoo Temple by coming to Primary, bringing their scriptures, and learning the Articles of Faith. They learned that families are forever!

When I was seven, I learned one of the greatest lessons of my life. We were studying the environment in school. We discussed pollution and ways we could help decrease its terrible effects on the world. We talked about the oceans and how, even in little ways, we could change some of the things we do at home to make the world safer for all creatures.
I was still pretty young then, but I really took what we had been learning to heart. To me, the environment is a very important thing. The more I learned about why we should conserve our natural resources, the more I wanted everyone else to know the same things and think they were just as important as I did. I became a seven-year-old warrior fighting in the everyday battle to save Mother Nature.
One day, I came home from school having just finished drinking a soda. We had a recycling bin, which we used regularly, and with my newfound enthusiasm for caring about the environment, I went straight to toss my empty bottle in.
“Stop,” my mom said over her shoulder. “Our recycling company doesn’t allow us to recycle green plastic.”
I was shocked. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The recycling companies were supposed to be the heroes; why would they say we could recycle some things and not others? It didn’t make any sense to me. Disappointed, I dropped my bottle in the trash and headed back toward my room.
At that moment, I had an impression I’d never had before. Coming from a family that was not very religious, we had never had family prayer or even knew what prayer was, other than what we had seen on TV. But right then that was exactly what I felt I needed to do: get on my knees by my bed and pray about it. So I slipped into my room and, not really knowing how to begin, gave it a simple try.
“God,” I started quietly, “this is Ace. Thank you for the environment. Please let us recycle green plastic bottles in this area. It’s really important.” I closed with an “amen” and waited. I didn’t know what to expect. Although I wasn’t visited by angels or struck by lightning, I did feel something I had never felt before. As I sat there, I felt good. I felt like I wasn’t alone in the room anymore, although there clearly wasn’t any other person I could see. Something told me that what I had just done was right.
Life continued the same as it always had. In fact, by the next afternoon I had been so involved in usual things at school that I had mostly forgotten about the green bottle episode and the prayer.
When I got home, I went back to my room, but before long my mom called my name and asked me to come to the kitchen. When I did, I saw that she had a letter in her hand. She explained that it was from the recycling company stating that now we could recycle green plastics in addition to other things.
She handed me the letter. I looked it over, but I couldn’t believe it. The same feeling I had had the day before came rushing back to me. It was an answer.
That was an experience that has never left me. Every time I think about it, I’m still amazed that it could have happened at all. And it was this experience that, three years later, helped me to feel the truth of the gospel when the missionaries came knocking at our family’s door. It was the same feeling.

I think immediately of British explorer Ernest Shackleton and the crew of his ship HMS Endurance, shipwrecked in Antarctic ice and then stranded on a barren island for nearly two years. Shackleton’s extraordinary leadership and indomitable resolve saved the lives of his men, despite the harshest conditions.

Elder Harold B. Lee and Elder Marion G. Romney were always teaching, and they would, in a sense, go out of their way to tell me something or teach me something. I think the reason they did it—I’m not sure they ever saw me in this position or calling—is that I had one virtue: I wanted to learn, and I didn’t resent it. And if you don’t resent it, and if you want to learn, the Lord will keep teaching you, sometimes things you really didn’t think you wanted to know.
Both of those great teachers would teach me. When I would see Brother Romney, sometimes he would say, “Kid, I want to tell you something.” I knew it was coming. He was going to tell me I was doing something that I shouldn’t do, and I would always thank him.

And it fills immediate needs. In Hamburg, one young man was struggling to become active again. He was unemployed, and the couple missionaries spent a lot of time helping him to do his résumé on the computer. He became comfortable with them and with being at the institute center and became fully active again.

I thought back to my first contact with Mormons. It was the summer of my second year in junior high school, when President Kimball visited Sapporo. I had attended many other churches, but at that meeting, there was something new: a unity of all the members. It seemed strange at the time. At other churches, people came to meetings, sat and listened, and then returned home. At the Mormon church, they all seemed to be working at life, trying to love it and enjoy it in a way the Lord would want them to. I thought of my second visit among the Mormons, too. That had been November 3 of the same year at the branch Thanksgiving party. My older sister invited me to tag along and told me all of the people there would seem like angels and we would be embarrassed just to be in their presence. That’s exactly how they made me feel! I had never been part of such a spiritual, family atmosphere.
From then on I had attended church weekly and everyone welcomed me with outstretched arms and warm hearts. The missionaries taught me about restored gospel truths, and they taught me how to pray to know the truth for myself. No other church had taught me how to pray, but in this church even small children could pray. I read the Book of Mormon daily and prayed about it. Gradually I began to understand my purpose here on earth and what’s important in this life. But I did not feel, yet, that I had a testimony.

Naomi Hug, 10, is the same age as her ward. On her ward’s 10th anniversary, she gave her first talk in sacrament meeting. She was surprised that she felt like crying! “The Spirit was so strong, I couldn’t say how much I felt it,” she wrote in her journal. She told ward members, “I’m thankful to have been born in the Church. I feel like I’m in a good place.”

We got an extra meal from a restaurant so that we could give it to someone who was hungry. We saw a police car parked nearby and asked the policeman if he had eaten lunch. He had not! He said he was hungry and that we were a blessing to him. We had the best feeling knowing we had helped someone.
Callister, Kerrigan, and Preston S., ages 7, 5, and 3, Texas, USA

One family found that added blessings came to them as they sought to receive a testimony of the divine calling of the prophet. Soon after hearing the news of the death of President Joseph Fielding Smith, the family knelt in prayer. “The father expressed thankfulness for having lived during the ministry of that great prophet. He then thanked the Lord for all the prophets who have lived and especially for President Harold B. Lee (the new president of the Church). He prayed that his children might become acquainted with the new prophet and study his teachings. ‘Bless these fine children, Father’ he prayed, ‘that they might follow those who follow the prophet and never do anything that President Lee would not do.’” (Marion P. Sorensen, “Teaching Children Through Prayer.”)

Last general conference, I was called by President Monson to be the new Young Women general president. As I stood in the presence of a prophet of God and was given this sacred trust, I pledged that I would serve with all my heart, might, mind, and strength. Prior to this calling, I had a small plate inscribed with a motto that read, “I can do hard things.” That little plate bearing that simple motto gave me courage. But now if I could change that motto, it would read: “In the strength of the Lord, I can do all things.” It is on that strength that I rely today as I stand at this sacred pulpit.