Gospel Story Finder

Twin sisters Leah and Ellison C., age 6, Utah, USA, liked the talk by Elder Costa about praying for help. “Sometimes school is hard for us, especially for Leah because she was born with Down syndrome,” Ellison said. “When she’s having a hard time in our class, I know I can say a silent prayer asking Heavenly Father to help her understand. I know He helps and loves both of us.”

John D. Amos was born on November 2, 1961, in Lafayette, Louisiana, to John N. Amos Sr. and Dorothy Victorian Amos. He met his future wife, Michelle Evette Wright, through classes they took together in college, sharing a major in electrical engineering.
Michelle, already a member of the Church, invited John to a church dance on their first date. After that, he started learning more about the Church and the Savior’s central role in the restored gospel.

Bonnie Lee Green was born in October 1950 in Salt Lake City to Theo James and Jean S. Green. When her parents decided they wanted their children to experience the Church outside of Utah, nine-year-old Bonnie and her family moved to Oklahoma, USA. The family also spent time in Colorado and Tennessee before moving to Missouri, where Bonnie met Paul Kent Oscarson at the Far West, Missouri, temple site—a place of significance because they both have ancestors who lived in the Far West area.
After attending Brigham Young University, the couple married on December 19, 1969, in the Salt Lake Temple; seven children would eventually join the family.

Turn to the righteousness section of your daily newspaper and read the lead story. “Elder Sargent won a big one today. When the Gomez family returned their Book of Mormon and asked him not to come anymore, he rebounded, said a quick prayer, hugged his companion, and decided to knock on a few more doors. ‘There’s a family waiting out there somewhere,’ he said. ‘We’re going to find them.’ The outstanding play brought the crowd to its feet.”

A certain seminary teacher asked his 35 youngsters the searching question, “Did your family have its prayer this morning?” Of the 35, two had had their prayers; 33 families had been too busy, too late, too hurried, or too disinterested.

When Gina Randall joined the Church in Johannesburg, South Africa in 1969, she was recently divorced with two young children. She had no family support and no friends in the Church. Her new branch was a large one. Coming to church was a daunting experience.
“At first I was very dependent on the missionary who had introduced me to the Church, but as he neared the end of his mission, he realised I needed another friend,” she says. “He introduced me to another, older sister who had been baptised at a similar time as I was.
“We clung together like monkeys!” says Sister Randall. “Just having somebody around when everything seemed new and strange gave me a lot of comfort. She really was my lifeline.”
Now, still an active member 52 years later, “I often wonder if I would have made it if it wasn’t for her,” she says.

I was asked to give a talk in sacrament meeting about the importance of the standard works in my life. I was happy to accept the assignment, even though I’m a bit shy and I get nervous in front of people. I was grateful to speak on this topic because I have a strong testimony of the scriptures.
For a long time I have studied the scriptures every day, just as our prophets have asked us to do. When I do this, I feel great joy. I know that what I read in the standard works is the word of God.
I also keep a personal journal. The missionaries taught me to do this, and I consider it to be a valuable work as well. Each day I record my experiences and any progress I have made. In accepting the assignment to speak, I felt comfortable knowing I might find something in my journal to use in my talk.
Because I was so nervous, I worked hard all week, preparing the talk and praying for guidance. I wanted my words to touch the hearts of my brothers and sisters.
Finally Sunday arrived. I shook a little as I went to the pulpit. As I spoke, I noticed the members were listening intently. I had never felt so calm or spoken with such ease. A beautiful spirit filled me, almost like a burning (see D&C 9:8). Giving my talk was a wonderful experience. I knew Heavenly Father had blessed me with His Spirit.
As I thought about the experience afterward, I realized I may have been blessed with the Spirit because I had prepared my talk so diligently and had sought the Lord’s guidance. Because I was prepared, there was no need to fear (see D&C 38:30).
I also realized that if we prepare confidently for something that seems to be as small as a talk, we can also prepare for greater things, secure in the knowledge that the Lord will sustain us.

“The most difficult time,” Bishop Küsseling laughed, “was when Marie was born, and the twins were only a year old. We suddenly had three girls nearly the same age. They became a little jealous of each other because I had three girls to hold and only two knees to hold them on!”

Faith in the future is demonstrated by a couple sealed in the temple. They understand that by obedience to the teachings of Jesus Christ and the plan of happiness of our Father in Heaven, they can have a joyous life together. They recognize that when the challenges intended to be growth opportunities come, they will find ways, as prompted by the Holy Ghost, to overcome them in ways that are productive and character building.

When I was a boy living in Salt Lake City, most homes were heated with coal stoves. Black smoke belched forth from almost every chimney. As winter came to a close, black soot and grime were everywhere, both inside and outside of the house.
There was a ritual through which we passed each year—not a very pleasant one, as we viewed it. It involved every member of the family. It was known as spring cleaning. When the weather warmed after the long winter, a week or so was [declared to be] cleanup time. It was usually when there was a holiday and included two Saturdays.
My mother ran the show. All of the curtains were taken down and laundered. Then they were carefully ironed. The windows were washed inside and out, and oh, what a job that was in that big two-story house.
Wallpaper was on all of the walls, and Father would bring home numerous cans of wallpaper cleaner. It was like bread dough, but it was a pretty pink in color when the container was opened. It had an interesting smell, a pleasant, refreshing kind of smell. We all pitched in. We would knead some of the cleaning dough in our hands, climb a ladder, and begin on the high ceiling, and then work down the walls. The dough was soon black from the dirt it lifted from the paper. It was a terrible task, very tiring, but the results were like magic. We would stand back and compare the dirty surface with the clean surface. It was amazing to us how much better the clean walls looked.
All of the carpets were taken up and dragged out to the backyard, where they were hung over the clothesline, one by one. Each of us boys would have what we called a carpet beater, a device made of light steel rods with a wooden handle. As we beat the carpet, the dust would fly, and we would have to keep going until there was no dust left.
We detested that work. But when all of it was done, and everything was back in place, the result was wonderful. The house was clean, our spirits renewed. The whole world looked better.

When President Russell M. Nelson was sustained as the new prophet, I wondered how I would ever feel as much love for him as I felt for President Monson! But Heavenly Father knew the desire of my heart, which is to develop as much love for each of the men He calls to lead His Church. And I believe that He wanted me to continue to have experiences that would allow me to do that.
Soon after he was called, President Nelson sent Elder Dale G. Renlund of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles to meet with the youth of Haiti. I was happy at the idea of going to see him. I wanted to know for certain if he was truly called of God.
After a long journey, I arrived in my country’s capital and took my seat in the building Elder Renlund was meeting us in. When he entered the room, I felt a gentle warmth fill my chest. He began his talk by saying that it was President Russell M. Nelson who had sent him to visit us. In that moment I knew that God knew that we needed to feel the love and support of the new prophet, and He allowed us to have that opportunity.
When Elder Renlund asked for a volunteer to read the introduction of the Book of Mormon to the group, I felt the Spirit so strongly—I stood up without even being aware of what I was doing. I walked up to the stand and stood close to the Apostle to read. My heart instantly began beating so quickly, and I cannot even articulate in words the strength of the Spirit I felt. It was like God’s presence was in the room, and it was an incredible feeling to experience. At that moment, all my questions and doubts flew away. I knew that Elder Renlund was truly an Apostle called of God. I felt a great love for him—and for the prophet who had sent him to speak to us.

The love of Jesus Christ was the answer I received when a close friend told me she was stepping away from the Church. Prior to this decision, she had shared her sincere questions with me, asking for my opinions and confiding in me about the hurt she was feeling. Her pain was real, her questions were heartfelt, and I felt honored to be a listening ear. However, the thoughts I shared often didn’t seem to reach her.
I would leave our conversations feeling unsure of how to support her. During one conversation in particular, she asked me a sincere question about something I had personally been feeling uncertain about and then called my bluff when I struggled to know how to respond. I remember her saying, “Em, you don’t really believe that. I know you don’t.”
She was right.
After that interaction, I felt myself drifting away from the friendship. I was uncomfortable discussing spiritual matters with her and felt frustrated by our differences in belief and my own lack of perfect answers. I felt hopeless. I slowly stopped asking her about her gospel questions out of fear of not having the answers. I started to think that we were too different to be friends.
It took a few months before I realized that in seeking answers to her (and my) questions, I had lost sight of the most important answer: God so loved the world—God so loves my friend.
In his October 2020 general conference address, President Dallin H. Oaks, First Counselor in the First Presidency, reminded us, “The Savior’s teaching to love [one another] is based on the reality that all mortals are beloved children of God.” He ended his message with a reminder about the perspective that this knowledge provides: “Knowing that we are all children of God gives us a divine vision of the worth of all others.”1
Those words struck me. Of course, this teaching is a fundamental truth. However, I realized that in my response to my friend’s transition away from the Church, I had set this truth aside.
Knowing that my friend—regardless of our differences in belief—is a beloved child of God changed everything for me.
Months had gone by with me feeling very distant from my friend, but I immediately called her after my realization, and I shared God’s love with her. I was able to explain why I had distanced myself from her. I articulated why it hurt to feel like something so precious to me wasn’t treated with respect. Fortunately, she was understanding, and we both apologized. We talked about how important our friendship was and how our similarities were stronger than our differences. I told her that I wanted to meet her where she was while maintaining my standards and faith, and that I hoped we could continue supporting each other. I was so grateful when she agreed.

Let’s Go Home, Little Bear On the way back from a long walk, Little Bear stops to hear strange noises. Big Bear explains each noise, carries tired Little Bear the rest of the way home, then tells Little Bear a story before they both fall asleep. The art is as gentle and charming as the story.Martin Waddell3–6 years

The pale yellow light from the lantern Christian Monson carried threw dark, dancing shadows against the gray stone walls of the Fredrikstad (Norway) Prison. Christian hesitated at the heavy oak door that led from the prison office to the cells below. His head was racing. He knew that if his plan to release the two prisoners was discovered, he would also be made a prisoner here.
Christian felt the cold smoothness of the jailer’s keys, and he felt the weight of irrevocable decision. He drew a long, deep breath, inserted the key in the lock, and turned it; there was the clicking sound of metal. With his free hand he pulled the door open. The air from the cells was dank and fetid—the stench of unwashed men and stale cellar air.
Quietly Christian walked down the stone steps to the long rows of cells that the warden of the prison had placed in his care as a night guard. At the bottom of the steps he stopped and hung the lantern on the hook that protruded from the wall. The light fell bright on his face. It revealed a tall, 14-year-old Norwegian boy with bright, sky-blue eyes and straight, tawny-colored hair. His face was smooth and fair and normally full of laughter and mischief, but in the flickering lantern light it was firm and serious.
Christian walked across the floor to the cell on the far left, inserted the key into the lock, and opened the door.
“Elders!” His voice was soft.
The opening door flooded a pool of light onto the floor of the dark cell. The cell was small with no windows, no openings for air or light except a small, barred opening in the door Christian had opened. In the corner of the room was a moldy pile of straw that the prisoners slept on. There were dark areas on the walls covered with a green slime where water seeped in. The air was cold and musty; it stank, a smell that twisted Christian’s stomach even after a year of working in the prison.
Light fell on two villainous-looking men who were standing near the door and waiting. Both wore shaggy beards and long hair, dark with grease and dirt. Their faces were sallow and pocked with small red sores. Their clothes were filthy and tattered, rotting in the damp air.
In the year he had worked in the prison Christian had seen many men who looked like these two—filthy, rotting men with cold, empty eyes that followed him with hate. But these two were different. Their clothes, their hair, and their skin looked the same as any of the men who had spent several months in the prison. It was in the eyes where Christian had noticed a difference; the eyes of these two were warm and alive and strong.
Elder Hanson smiled and grasped Christian’s shoulder with a powerful hand.
“Father in heaven is pleased with your courage, Christian,” he said.
“We had better hurry,” the other man, Elder Nelson, said, stepping out of the cell. “But let’s pray first.”
Minutes later Christian and the two Mormon elders walked out of the prison. Elder Hanson, a tall barrel-chested man, stopped, stretched out his arms, and in a long, slow breath drank in the cold, clean-tasting night air.
“I had forgotten just how good and sweet air can taste,” he said. They stood silent in the dark under a ceiling of bright, winter stars, their breaths steaming in the cold air, the two elders bathing in a sense of cleanness and freedom. Then they began walking down the narrow streets toward a rocky point in the fjord.
They spoke in whispers as they walked.
“Brother Monson, what will your parents do?” Elder Nelson asked.
There was a long silence, and only the sound of their feet tapping on the pavement disturbed the stillness of the night. At length Christian sighed and spoke.
“I don’t know, Elder Nelson. I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I tried to tell my mother, but she wouldn’t listen. And my father—he’s a proud man, proud of Norway, proud of the Lutheran Church, proud of his own beliefs. Like many people around here, he is not tolerant of other beliefs. My mother might understand, but I’m afraid my father will not even try.”
Christian stopped and faced Elder Nelson, his breath making a white plume in the darkness.
“There’s pain in this truth of yours, Elder Nelson.” He turned and began walking again.
Elder Nelson nodded and pulled his coat tighter against the cold. He well understood Christian’s problem. He and Elder Hanson had been put into prison because of that same intolerance. The missionary work had been going well in Norway—hundreds had been baptized—too well for the comfort of the Lutheran Church and the Norwegian government. The government, under pressure from the Lutheran hierarchy (Lutheranism is the state religion of Norway), arrested the Mormon missionaries in the country and put them in prisons like the one in Fredrikstad.
Christian broke the silence again.
“Many years ago, I was very young at the time, my grandfather told me that there are steps in life that can change my future and the future of entire generations. He told me I should take those steps, carefully, in the direction I believe to be right, no matter how difficult they appear to be. I know this is right.”
They reached the shoreline and walked along it until they came to a small cove. The shoreline was rocky and smelled of the ocean and seaweed. There was a light mist on the surface of the water. In the distance, on a low horizon, a bright crescent moon was rising, casting a ghostly silver light on the scene.
The three of them walked out into the water, past the foaming shoreline. The moon climbed higher in the night sky. The water felt warm compared to the night air. There was the sound of waves washing gently against rocks on the shore, soft and rhythmic.
Christian thought back over the past two months, about the long hours he had searched and compared the catechism of his church with the Bible and the teachings of the two elders.
He remembered the warmth deep inside when he found the answers for which he had searched and prayed. With the memory a peaceful feeling washed over his mind, over the pain he felt in the weight of decision.
In the moonlight Elder Hanson raised his arm to a square. in his mind’s eye Christian could see John the Baptist and Christ in the Jordan River and he could hear Paul speaking on being buried and raised again with Christ. He heard Elder Hanson’s voice and the baptismal prayer. He felt the power of the prayer and a sudden rush of water.
Before the first reds and golds of morning streaked the horizon, the two elders were back in their cell and Christian was at the desk, in the front office of the prison, waiting for the day guard to relieve him. In the quiet stillness of morning he wondered where this step he had taken would lead him, and he wondered how he would tell his parents.

We see this continually in people’s lives. One example was the woman who had little money to spend but wanted to share a Christmas treat with her neighbors. She didn’t feel that she could buy even inexpensive containers, but she was quite self-reliant. With what she had on hand, she made charming remembrances using brown lunch-size paper bags decorated with a white paper roof, a door and windows, and the words “Merry Christmas, Neighbor!” These brown-bag houses, filled with her home-dried apple slices, were welcome gifts.

“For family home evening, we’ll review our computer and game rules,” Dad announced.
“Dad, I already know the rules!” Joseph said. He was 11 and had been using the computer for years now.
“You do a good job following the rules,” Dad said. “But a review is still good.”
Joseph plopped down on the couch. He wished they would talk about something new instead.
Dad held up a poster board and marker. “OK, let’s see what we already know,” Dad said. “Joseph, what rules do you know?”
“Crash and tell,” Joseph said.
“That’s right. If you see something inappropriate on the computer, like swearing or people not wearing clothes, close the screen or turn off the computer. Then tell Mom or me right away.” Dad wrote Crash and tell on the poster.
“What else?” Mom asked.
“Don’t give out your information,” Aaron said. “We just talked about that in school.”
Joseph looked at Mom and Dad. That wasn’t one of their rules! But Dad smiled and nodded.
“Good,” Dad said. “We haven’t talked about that before, but it’s really important. Don’t give your name, your age, where you live, or where you go to school on websites or to people online. Some people use that information to hurt others.” He wrote Don’t give out info on the poster.
“How about keeping the laptop in the living room or kitchen?” Joseph suggested. He was paying attention now. Dad wrote, Computer in family areas only.
“You can’t use the computer without asking,” Elizabeth said.
“Excellent, and you have to take turns,” Mom reminded them. Dad wrote Ask permission and take turns.
“What about games?” Simon asked.
“Thank you, Simon. The rules for the computer are the same for video games and the phone and tablet too,” Dad said. “We need to avoid bad language, violence, disrespect for others, and anything that makes wrong seem right.”
Dad wrote No swearing, violence, or disrespect in games.
The family thought of several more rules and put the poster by the computer. As he went to bed that night, Joseph tried to remember everything Dad had written.
A few days later, Joseph went to his friend Darrin’s house. Darrin brought out his new video game to play. It seemed awesome at first. Then the characters went to battle, and Joseph started to feel uncomfortable. It was pretty violent. He didn’t want to play this game any more.
What if Darrin thinks I’m just a chicken? Joseph wondered. Then he remembered the rules, and it helped him feel brave.
“Hey, Darrin,” he said, “I don’t play violent games.”
Darrin looked surprised and paused the game. “Oh. I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“I just don’t feel good playing it,” Joseph said. “Can we play something else?”
“I guess,” Darrin said.
That wasn’t that bad, Joseph thought as he and Darrin picked out a new game. When they finished that one, they went outside and rode their bikes.
Joseph was smiling when his mom picked him up.
“How was it?” she asked.
“Fun,” Joseph said. “And I kept our family’s rules.”

I traveled the wonderful state of Idaho for eight years for the university. I went to every town and hamlet, and it was not uncommon for me to be away for two weeks. Then I’d go home and, as a stake officer, change clothes and be gone again. Once when this happened, one of my little girls came to the door, waved, and said, “Come again, Daddy.”
I used to miss my family, and one particular Sunday I found myself in Pocatello, Idaho. I got thinking about my family, so far away, and I thought, “Well, I’ll just run down to Whitney and see if I can attend sacrament service.” I arrived just as the meeting was about to start. The bishop invited me to sit with him on the stand.
The meeting started, and the counselor who was conducting called on me to say a few words. I had been sitting there thinking, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could be home every Sunday and go to church with my family? Just think what a joy it would be.” Well, as he introduced me, he said, “Brothers and sisters, wouldn’t it be wonderful to have a job like Brother Benson? He’s always on a trip.” I thought, “Yes, how true to life. Distant pastures usually look greener.”
I hope we can be happy where we are, be grateful for our blessings—now, here—accept the challenge that is ours and make the most of it, and not be envious of others.

5. A brilliant German professor was converted to the restored gospel and the Church because of our positive conception of man’s potential. Upon hearing our teachings that man is a child of God with free agency, capable of eternal progression, “that men are that they might have joy,” she exclaimed: “How could a creation of God be more evil than good—especially man who was created in his image?”

“Preparing for my mission has been a long struggle. After deciding to serve a mission, it took almost one and one-half years to overcome problems in my conduct.”

Jung Sung Eun of Korea didn’t pass the qualification exam to become a teacher. Tina Roper of Utah, USA, lost a job that she had expected to turn into a career. Todd Schlensker of Ohio, USA, received a spiritual confirmation to marry but saw his engagement come to an end. Alessia Mazzolari (name has been changed) of Italy ended what appeared to be the perfect relationship.

Todd faced a bright future upon returning from his mission. While attending school, he met a wonderful young woman. After several months of courtship and a spiritual confirmation, Todd proposed and she accepted. They planned their wedding for the end of the summer, and both returned home from school to prepare.

“Three weeks after we said our good-byes at school, she ended our engagement,” Todd recalls. “Heartbroken could not express my feelings strongly enough. There were so many unanswered questions in my mind; it didn’t make sense. I had received a confirmation in the house of the Lord, and now our relationship was over. My testimony had never been tested this hard.

“Unfortunately, for years following my breakup, I couldn’t get past it. I didn’t know how I could ever trust a feeling of confirmation again. I had always trusted in the Lord and tried my best to keep the commandments,” he continues. “It all seemed for naught.”

In their respective experiences, Todd and Alessia both eventually recognized that even though a key relationship in their lives was altered, they couldn’t abandon their obedience and allegiance to the Lord. He became their anchor when everything else was changing and uncertain.

“I didn’t have all the answers to why I got a confirmation to marry someone, and it didn’t happen,” Todd recalls. “But I realized that didn’t matter. What did matter is that I still had faith in Christ, and I was going to use that faith to trust in whatever the Lord had in store for me.”

After being confronted with unanticipated setbacks, all four of these young adults struggled to find the courage to live in the present and again plan for the future. But they found that their faith in the Lord grew.

Todd continued trying to date for six years and worked to develop trust in the Lord. Even when he met women he admired very much, he had to fight to keep his doubts from the past from destroying his hopes for the future. “Finding the determination not to succumb to my doubts of six years was not easy,” he says. “But I was firm in attempting to prove to myself that I really did trust in the Lord and His promptings, even though I had been angry with Him before.” A new relationship eventually led to a temple marriage.

“I often wonder why the Lord blessed me with someone as great as my wife when I struggled so long to fully trust the feelings of the Spirit,” reflects Todd. “It is a testimony to me that the Lord is waiting to bless us, but it’s always on His timetable.”