Gospel Story Finder

By Talia Rodríguez, Switzerland

Prayer is an integral part of ministering like the Savior. Prayer can begin our search to know whom to bless. It can help us come to understand heaven’s will regarding how to bless. Prayer is also a key step in learning how to perform our duty.

My husband, Mario, suffered from COVID in the early days of the disease before vaccinations. The bishop asked an elder in our ward, Moroni, to give him a priesthood blessing.

Because he didn’t want to contract the virus and spread it to his family, Moroni needed heaven’s confirmation before proceeding. He knelt in prayer with his wife, waiting for peaceful assurance. When they felt at peace, his wife told him, “Go with your armor, Moroni.”

When he entered our home, we saw a warrior of the Lord. My husband shed tears of joy when he saw the brother bravely coming to give him the blessing he desired. It was an indescribable experience.

The Savior came through His servant, our dear brother Moroni, who laid his hands on Mario’s head and blessed him as Christ would.

The letters, diaries, and autobiographies of past Church leaders contain many descriptions of this baptism of the Spirit. One of these was written by Lorenzo Snow, later an apostle, and still later a president of the Church. Elder Snow wrote that immediately following his immersion in the waters of baptism at the age of twenty-two, he expected to receive the Holy Ghost, and to have the promise fulfilled that he would “know of the doctrine, whether it be of God.” (John 7:17.) But Elder Snow did not receive this assurance immediately. He began to worry whether he had done wrong—whether God was displeased with him. Several weeks later, while studying the scriptures, he felt depressed and disconsolate. He left the house and walked outside, tormented by uncertainty and enveloped by “an indescribable cloud of darkness.” He had been in the habit of going to a small grove every evening to have secret prayer. On this particular day he was so dejected that he “felt no inclination” to pray. “The heavens seemed like brass over my head,” he wrote. Nevertheless, he forced himself to pray, and soon he heard a sound “like the restling of silken robes” above his head:

“… immediately the Spirit of God descended upon me, completely enveloping my whole person, filling me from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, and O the joy and happiness I felt! No language can describe the instantaneous transition from a dense cloud of mental and spiritual darkness into a refulgence of light and knowledge … I then received a perfect knowledge that God lives, that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and of the restoration of the Holy Priesthood, and of the fulness of the gospel. It was a complete baptism—a tangible immersion in the heavenly principle or element, the Holy Ghost; and even more real and physical in its effects upon every part of my system than the immersion of water.”

God had conferred upon him, he concluded, “that which is of greater value than all the wealth and honors worlds can bestow.”1

“My father came from a large family. They were homesteading in Idaho and had little money. When he reached high school age, he asked my grandfather to allow him to go to high school. His father gave him five dollars and a one-way ticket to Salt Lake, where he had to make it on his own. He found a job caring for President Joseph F. Smith’s cows and lived in the Beehive House like a member of the family for three and a half years. Father attended LDS High School and then went on to the University of Utah, where he was valedictorian of his graduating class. He accepted a position as principal of a school in Rexburg, Idaho. There he met my mother who was a teacher in the same school.
They were married and Dad left teaching and went to law school and became an attorney.

Not long ago, I had an experience with cheating. Like you, I felt unable to compete, and so I gave in little by little until I rationalized myself into thinking I wasn’t really cheating at all. I have never been more embarrassed than when my teacher informed me that she wasn’t counting my test. But that was just the beginning. I then had to admit to myself and to my parents that what I had been doing was cheating. It took me the rest of the year to regain that teacher’s trust as well as my parents’.
Don’t take that first step because it gets easier every time. Remember my experience. No amount of success is worth the heartache of not liking yourself.
Name withheld

On May 26, 1976, Rodolfo Villalba left Salt Lake City to return home to Bolivia as a full-time missionary for the Church. “My heart is full of beautiful things I want to share with my people,” he said. After his mission he wants to come back to Utah and Brigham Young University; then he will return again to Bolivia to become a productive member of his community.
Rodolfo Murilla also returned to Bolivia at the end of May—there was a rumor that he had someone special waiting for him. The other four, Raul, Luis, Elizabeth, and Lidia, stayed in the U.S. to attend Brigham Young University. They are serious about becoming good representatives of Bolivia. After their education, they all say they want to go back to help their homeland. Lidia wants to study sociology. Luis wants to go into some technical field. Raul feels that it is a great opportunity, “one in a lifetime, to study in another country. And to do it in the Church university is really something!” His father is not a member but wants the best opportunities for his son. Raul is the oldest of the children in his family, and his father wants him to set a good example for his younger brothers and sisters.

I could read you a letter here tonight that I read to the Regional Representatives, and I think I should read parts of it, at least. Maybe I can tell you what is in it.
The president of the Korea Mission, when I was over there, was telling me of the problems they have with young men in the service because the bishops were not sending the recommends for two or three months after they had arrived. He said that our servicemen do not enjoy—in fact, they resent—being there, and they become lonesome, and there are prostitutes there in great numbers. In fact, he told me that it was a common thing for these soldiers to have a prostitute companion. He told me an experience where one of our priests who was lonely, who had not been too active, became involved with one of these prostitutes. And then one of our young men who was living the gospel and who was interested in trying to save these young men contacted him, worked with him, and finally got him to acknowledge the value of the Church, to repent of his doings, and to strive to work as he should to be worthy of the blessings of the Lord. And then he said if he could have just got hold of that boy when he arrived, he could have helped him and probably prevented this tragedy. He goes on to tell of the experience with many of the young men there, and how many of them bear testimony that it was because somebody met them and worked with them, and gave them companionship and love, that they were able to withstand the temptations so prevalent there.

Playing with dolls might seem like a silly thing for a Laurel to be involved with, but Kancie Schaefer, a member of the Pleasant View Ninth Ward, Provo Utah Sharon East Stake, knew that dolls would be a great way to send her love and friendship to places where she couldn’t go. For a Laurel project, Kancie organized several “doll days” where she and several other girls in her ward made rag dolls to be sent to Africa and the Philippines.
“If I could meet one of the little girls that receives a doll, I’d tell her how much I love her and that the doll is straight from my heart to hers,” says Kancie.

One youth described how he first experienced the spirit of worship. He had been marginally active through his Aaronic Priesthood years. When he attended sacrament meeting, he usually sat in the back with a group of his friends, and he was less than a model of reverence. One day, however, he came in a little late, and there were no seats by his friends. He sat alone, and for the first time in his life, he closed his eyes during the prayers, he sang the hymns, he listened to the sacrament prayers, and he paid attention to the speakers. About midway through the first speaker, he found tears welling up in his eyes. With some embarrassment, he carefully glanced around; no one else seemed emotional. He didn’t know for sure what was happening to him, but the experience changed his life. It was during that meeting that he really started his spiritual preparation for his mission. He felt something, and fortunately, he acted and thus sustained those feelings.

A few months ago, Emilio, one of the deacons in our ward, suddenly became very ill. The doctors were unable to diagnose what he had. Both he and his mother were scared because he was getting weaker and going downhill fast. His mother took him to the hospital several times but did not succeed in getting any answers.
Emilio’s mother brought him to the meetinghouse for a priesthood blessing. One of the members of the elders quorum and I, his bishop, had the privilege of blessing him, and he slept well for the first time in nights.
However, a few days later I learned that Emilio had experienced a relapse and was back in the hospital. Another brother and I quickly went to the hospital, where we were able to go into his room and visit with him. Thinking that Emilio would probably be discouraged by the downturn in his condition, I was especially uplifted by what happened next.
We talked about Jesus Christ, and I explained that the Savior has the power to surmount anything, according to His will. Emilio’s reply deeply touched our hearts: “Bishop, this is just another trial. I have faith that it will be over soon because I have faith in Jesus Christ.” We placed our hands on his head and again gave him a blessing.
After that night Emilio made an unbelievable and complete recovery. He was able to return to his daily activities and to church without difficulty.
Emilio had exercised the faith necessary for the Savior to perform the same kind of miracle He performed when He was here on earth. To me, Emilio is an example of those of whom the Lord said, “To some it is given to have faith to be healed” (D&C 46:19).

I hope we are reading the Book of Mormon with our children regularly. I have discussed this with my own children. They have shared with me two observations. First, persistence in reading the scriptures daily as a family is the key. My daughter in a lighthearted way describes their early-morning efforts with mostly teenage children to consistently read the scriptures. She and her husband wake up early in the morning and move through the blurry mist to grasp the iron railing that lines their staircase to where their family gathers to read the word of God. Persistence is the answer, and a sense of humor helps. It requires great effort from every family member every day, but it is worth the effort. Temporary setbacks are overshadowed by persistence.
The second is how our youngest son and his wife are reading the scriptures with their young family. Two out of their four children are not old enough to read. For the five-year-old, they have five finger signals to which he responds in order for him to participate fully in the family scripture reading. The signal for finger 1 is for him to repeat, “And it came to pass” whenever it appears in the Book of Mormon. I have to admit that I love the fact that the phrase appears so often. Incidentally, for the interest of young families, finger signal 2 is “And thus we see”; fingers 3, 4, and 5 are chosen by the parents based on the words contained in the chapter they are reading.
We know that family scripture study and family home evenings are not always perfect. Regardless of the challenges you face, do not become discouraged.

I didn’t swear and wouldn’t go to the parties with the other kids in my school so I stood out—especially in a non-LDS community. I didn’t even associate with them, so the guys in the school turned it into a big game. They would hang pornography on the walls by my locker, sing dirty songs in front of me, and call me Little Moses. That was the name they gave me.
At football practice, I remember guys jumping on top of me and crushing me at the bottom. It was a dog pile and they’d do it every day. There I’d be trying to play football and instead end up fighting these guys in practice.
What I discovered through all of this was the harder it was for me, the closer I grew to the Lord and the stronger my testimony became. I’m thankful I was truly strengthened at a time when I could have wallowed in self-pity and gone in the other direction.

Cora was having a bad day. The dog jumped on her with muddy paws and got her favorite shirt dirty. She accidentally hit her head with a toy. Her sister wouldn’t play the game Cora wanted to play, and Cora got in trouble with Mom for arguing with her sister.
“I’m having a bad day!” Cora said as tears filled her eyes.
“You are choosing to have a bad day,” Mom said. “You can choose to have a good day instead.”
Cora felt mad. “No, I can’t!” she cried. “I’m having a bad day!”
Mom held Cora while she cried. “Have you tried praying?” she whispered into Cora’s ear. “Maybe you should ask Heavenly Father for help.”
“I don’t want to pray,” Cora said.
“Sometimes it’s hard to feel like praying, but that is when we need to pray most of all,” Mom said. “Let’s pray together. I’ll pray first, and then you can pray.” Mom folded her arms around Cora.
Cora did not want to listen to her mom’s prayer. Everything had gone wrong, and she wanted to be mad. She was mad at the dog, the toy, and her sister. She was even mad at Mom. But something inside Cora whispered, “It’s time to pray. You need to listen.”
Reluctantly, Cora bowed her head and closed her eyes. As Mom prayed, Cora felt her anger fading. In its place she began to feel peace and love.
But then she remembered what had happened to put her in such a bad mood. As she thought about her anger, the good feelings went away. Cora felt torn. She liked the sweet feeling of peace she had started to feel, but she was still mad and wanted to stay mad. Which should she choose?
Mom ended the prayer and said, “OK, now it’s your turn, Cora.”
Cora folded her arms and bowed her head. All the while, her anger fought to stay in her mind. She wondered about the good feelings she had felt during her mother’s prayer—were those from Heavenly Father? Could He really make her feel better? With those questions in her head, she began to pray. She told Heavenly Father that she was having a bad day and that she was mad. She told Him everything that had happened and asked if He would help her feel better.
At that moment, she knew what she needed to ask for. She told Heavenly Father that she did not want to be angry anymore and asked Him if He would take the angry feelings away.
As Cora prayed, she felt the peace and love return. This time she wanted those feelings to stay. She thought about the things that she had been angry about, and they didn’t seem to matter anymore. In fact, she couldn’t remember why she had gotten so angry in the first place. Cora finished her prayer and looked at Mom.
“Mommy, I feel better now! Heavenly Father answered my prayer!”
Cora’s mom hugged her tight. “Sweetie, I am so happy for you. And I know Heavenly Father is pleased with you for praying.”
“Heavenly Father must love us a lot if He wants to help us be happy,” Cora said.
“Yes, He does, Cora. He loves us very much.”
“Mommy, can I go now? I want to play with my sister again,” Cora said. She was ready to have a good day.

Another night someone preparing for a dance noticed that hotel waiters were behind schedule replacing tablecloths and refilling saltshakers for the next day. Despite the language barrier, he made it clear that he and his friends would like to help, and soon the chore was completed. “We’re all brothers,” one of the volunteers told the headwaiter. “We should help each other.”
“Brüder (brothers),” the waiter said, nodding his head in agreement, and he smiled as he reached over to shake hands.

All my life I had been taught that the Church was true. When I decided to gain a testimony of my own, I thought that I needed to approach things from a different angle than that of my teachers and friends. So I asked: What if the gospel is not true? What if my well-meaning friends and parents are misled? What if the Book of Mormon is a work of fiction? What if there is no living prophet today and families aren’t forever?
As such questions filled my mind, darkness clouded my thoughts. I felt as if doors were closing inside me and for a whole day I wandered around in a depressed stupor of thought, thinking and acting unkindly towards others.
The next morning I came to myself and realized that I was obviously getting nowhere. Then I remembered a seminary lesson I’d had on prayer. I knew that in Doctrine and Covenants 9:7–9 there were some guidelines on getting answers. [D&C 9:7–9] As I read these verses, I could see that I had asked the wrong question. When I studied my questions out in my mind and in my heart, I sincerely believed the things I had been taught were true. So I prayed again, this time asking if my beliefs were right: Was I really a child of God? Was there a celestial kingdom? Was the priesthood the power of God?
Light poured into my soul replacing darkness. The Spirit confirmed that my belief was not in vain. I felt as if doors were being flung open and I could see things more clearly.
I gained a desire to serve and share my testimony. The Lord had heard and answered my sincere prayer. Now I knew for myself that what I had believed all along was really true.

Seven years later I too was preparing to serve a mission. I remember the night my call letter came, and I had all the family gathered around. Everyone had made their guesses as to where I would go. We all thought that I for sure would go to Temple Square. When I actually read my call, I was absolutely shocked! I thought, “Do they know that I am a girl!?” I knew that there were girls serving in India when my brother was on a mission, but they were Indian girls! I had no idea that they sent foreign sisters there and I wondered if I was the first one? Later I learned that I am the first sister from Australia to serve in India.

Another shock was how soon they wanted me to be prepared and ready to leave. I had just eight weeks from the time I received my call to the time I had to report to the Provo MTC. I quickly applied for my overseas Indian citizenship. It normally takes 6-8 weeks or more to arrive which meant that it would have come on the day I was supposed to leave. I knew there was a reason I was to leave so soon so I just put my faith and trust in the Lord that everything would work out. I ended up getting my visa in just five weeks! That is just one of the miracles I saw as I prepared for my mission. It was a crazy whirlwind getting ready for my mission, but it was a testimony to me that the India New Delhi Mission was where I needed to be.

“We’re having a scavenger hunt,” Mom announced at family home evening.
Ten-year-old Amy and her brothers, Nathan and Carl, grinned.
Mom continued, “You’ll be able to find most of the things on the list tonight, but some may take all week. Heavenly Father will help you, if you ask.” She passed a list to each person.
Amy scanned the page: (1) a picture of Jesus Christ; (2) a story of a missionary experience; (3) a true pioneer story; (4) the name of an ancestor with your first or middle name.
“OK,” Mom said, before Amy could finish reading the list, “be back here in an hour. We’ll try to finish the list during the week, and we’ll share our experiences next week.”
Amy read the rest of the list: (5) a story about President Hinckley when he was young; (6) a scripture about faith; (7) a picture of a temple; and (8) someone to give a copy of the Book of Mormon to.
Amy groaned. The first seven wouldn’t be too hard. But who would she give a Book of Mormon to?
“The first one’s easy,” Amy said to herself. She pulled a small picture of Jesus Christ out of her journal.
Her Primary class had read Alma 32:21 last week. It was a good scripture on faith, so Amy marked it.
Amy’s middle name was Evelyn, and it was her great-grandmother’s name, too!
Next she looked through copies of The Friend. She found a picture of the Tokyo Japan Temple, a story about President Hinckley growing up, and several true pioneer stories. Then the hour was up.
No one in the family had thought of someone to give a Book of Mormon to. In the closing prayer, they asked for help in finding people who were looking for the gospel.
Brother and Sister McKenzie had just come home from their mission, so on Tuesday, Amy asked them about their mission. But she still didn’t know who to give a Book of Mormon to.
Amy thought and prayed all week. Who would want a Book of Mormon? What would she say to them? “We’re having a scavenger hunt—would you like a Book of Mormon?” They would laugh.
She didn’t want to be laughed at. The Book of Mormon wasn’t a joke. It was a special book. She loved it, and she loved Jesus Christ. That was it! It was a book for people who loved Jesus! Now Amy knew just the person.
She knelt and prayed for Heavenly Father’s help. She felt calm and warm inside as she rode her bike to her friend Sarah’s house. But the calm feeling vanished when she got to the door. She prayed silently, then rang the doorbell.
“Hi, Amy,” Mrs. Morgan said. “Sarah’s at her grandmother’s this week.”
“I came to talk to you,” Amy said. She took a deep breath, then hurried on. “Mrs. Morgan, you love Jesus Christ a lot, don’t you?”
“Oh, very much,” smiled Mrs. Morgan.
“Would you like another book about Him?” Amy held out a Book of Mormon.
“The Book of Mormon,” Mrs. Morgan read. “Another Testament of Jesus Christ.”
“It tells some really wonderful things about Jesus,” Amy said. “About His visit to America and what He taught the people there. And it has one of my favorite scriptures—‘When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God’” (Mosiah 2:17).
“Another Testament of Jesus Christ,” Mrs. Morgan repeated softly. “Yes, Amy, I would like to read this. Thank you.”
Amy grinned, and the warm feeling grew inside her. “I like all of it, but 3 Nephi tells about the Savior’s visit to the Americas. I especially like when He blesses the children.”
Amy helped Mrs. Morgan find 3 Nephi.
Amy smiled and left as Mrs. Morgan sat on the steps and began reading. Still full of that warm feeling, Amy knew she had won the real prize of the scavenger hunt, and she hoped everyone else in her family would win it, too.

The other day as I watched the videotape Called to Serve, my eyes moistened in instant tenderness as each new missionary opened and read aloud with his family the official call to a full-time mission, signed by the President of the Church. I recalled my own mission call to Argentina. After sharing the excitement of my call with my parents, I sought out my mentor, who was not a member of the Church, a former U.S. senator, to share the news of my call with him. He was not impressed and let me know in no uncertain terms that if I insisted on serving a mission, upon my return all the good jobs would be taken and I would never amount to anything. I was disappointed but realized that he saw my future only as the world perceives.
Years later I realized that my mission had prioritized my life toward family, service, and gospel principles. As an added bonus, I was far ahead of most of my former classmates in worldly achievements.

I was trying to prove him stone wrong,” said Diahann Piper, remembering the first time she accepted a challenge from an instructor to attend the small LDS branch on the Caribbean island of St. Thomas.
“Brother Gerald Cox told me, ‘You ask some tough questions. Just go. Nobody will force you to join the Church.’”
Diahann took him up on his challenge. She attended church expecting the worst, but the worst never happened. “Some of my friends were so down on the Church. They told me all kinds of terrible things. When I went I kept waiting to see those things happen, but all I was seeing was love and more love.” Now Diahann is a member of the St. Thomas Branch.
For Diahann, joining the Church has brought some big changes in her life. “I had to change my attitude,” she said, “my style, my friends. I liked to go to the beach on Sundays, and I swore a lot. I had to change. Now I follow the prophet.”

I relearned something else. Once before I had painted a picture inspired by comments that I heard when I was a boy. It depicted the Willard Peaks. I had heard the older folks refer to them as The Presidency. These three gigantic, solid peaks standing against the sky typified the leaders of the Church.
That was nine years ago. My son had taken me to Willard and photographed the peaks. We went back a second time when there would be more shadow and contrast.
After those years I had to awaken that which I had let go dormant. At first it was a terrible struggle. I threatened to quit several times. One of my friends urged me on by saying, “Go ahead! There’s always plenty of room at the bottom.”
I did not quit, simply because my wife would not give me permission to do so. I am glad I didn’t now. Perhaps, now that I am into it again, I’ll do another painting sometime—who knows.
I suppose trying to get back into painting is not unlike someone who has been inactive in the Church for many years and decides to return to the fold. There is that period of struggle in getting the feel for what has lain dormant but is not really lost. And it helps to have a friend or two.
That is another principle of learning—drawing lessons from ordinary experience in life.

I had been in the police department only a few years when I was promoted to the rank of sergeant. One of my first assignments was to patrol the east side of Salt Lake City. It was a beautiful Sunday, and Liberty Park was crowded with families enjoying the spring weather. Suddenly, my quiet patrol was interrupted by a call for assistance from another officer in the park. As I approached the officer, I could see a large group of people pushing and shoving him around. (This group had been having a “beer party” in the park, even though many signs in the park read, “No Beer or Alcohol Allowed.”) The officer had tried to arrest one of the individuals who was determined to keep drinking despite the law.
The crowd appeared angry and threatening. I could see that the officer was in real trouble and that drastic action would be needed to rescue him. I quickly picked up my microphone and ordered the crowd to disperse.
“This is the police! Please disperse and leave the area immediately!” Upon hearing the announcement, the crowd became even more violent. I called for additional help, but because it was Sunday, few officers were on duty. I was on my own.
In a desperate attempt to rescue the officer, who was now being beaten and having his uniform torn, I opened the trunk of my car and got out the tear gas grenades. I knew that if anything would disperse the crowd this would be it. I selected a canister, pulled the pin, and lobbed it toward the angry crowd.
Poof! The gas began to fume, and people were running to get out of the way. The tear gas was effective in dispersing the crowd, but it also enraged the beer partiers. Chaos broke out, and within a short time the crowd was throwing bottles and rocks and jumping on police cars. More police arrived, and more people joined the riot. Before the situation was finally brought under control, more than 1,000 people were involved, including almost 100 police officers and several police dogs. Both citizens and officers were the victims of torn clothing and dog bites. For a few hours that day in Liberty Park, anarchy reigned.