Gospel Story Finder

On a hot August day with thin clouds in the Utah mountains, the Fraziers’ Thunderbird slowed as it reached the turn into the Kamas valley. Sitting in the passenger’s seat, Joe could see the group of vehicles waiting for him at the intersection, where twisting Brown’s Canyon meets Highway 189.
The fire engine and the cars fell in behind Joe’s car, fender-to-fender. The parade stopped in Oakley, and Joe got out and hugged his mom. A dozen young kids who had donated their toys to the garage sale and who felt in some way they owned a little piece of Joe gathered close to him. And one little guy yelled, “Hey, Joe, how ya feeling?”
There wasn’t a dry eye when Joe smiled and said in a soft voice “fine” and “thank you” and that it was “good to be home.”
“Every street corner, every business, everything was covered with pictures of Joe,” said Barbara. “But when we got home, Joe asked me to get the collection jars out of the store and take his pictures down.
“And then he wanted me to make sure no one had given more money than they could afford.”

Young women of the Roseville Ward, Anoka (Minnesota) Stake, increased their knowledge of their family history by making a porcelain doll that represented an ancestor and writing the life story of that ancestor.

When I was a newly called deacons quorum president, I wasn’t sure how to increase my spirituality. I started doing family history, usually each Sunday. I have been going to the temple every Saturday morning. My goal was to take male baptism and confirmation names as often as I could. After I went to the temple each week, I would feel a little more spiritual, and that way I was able to help my quorum better.
Josh B., age 13, Utah, USA

“My transition from Young Women to Relief Society was a wonderful experience because of service,” says Tagen Spencer of the Princeton Ward, Pocatello Idaho East Stake. “Even though I started my Relief Society experience in my home ward, where most of the women were elderly, they were all very welcoming to me. When I served with them on a humanitarian project, many of the widows in the ward were there. We were assigned to sort used clothing. One sister called and offered to pick me up. She even took me to lunch after the service project. Every time someone came across a used wedding dress, she would pull it out, give it to me, and start laughing. We had such a good time. It strengthened my testimony of service as well as helped me bond with the sisters.”

Training to be a helicopter pilot isn’t an opportunity that most people get. But when Pierre O., 24, decided to enlist in the French Army, he got just that. Now in his second year of the four-year training, Pierre is doing his best to live as an example of the believers, despite his environment.
Stationed about an hour and a half outside of Bordeaux, in southwestern France, Pierre is far from his friends, family, and hometown of Rennes. The nearest meetinghouse is an hour away, meaning that he doesn’t get to interact much with members during the week. “It’s not easy to be a member of the Church in the army,” Pierre says, “because there are a lot of temptations and it’s really just two opposite worlds. You’re judged a lot in the army not based on what you do but on who you are.” Pierre wants those around him to see that he doesn’t drink alcohol, smoke, view pornography, or party—commonplace activities in the army—because of who he is: a member of the Church. While he struggles to earn the respect of those around him, prayer and scripture study help keep his testimony strong. “I try to not go to sleep without having read my scriptures first,” he explains, “and I try to pray whenever I can.”
“Reading the scriptures and praying helped me a lot during all of my schooling to know that God exists, that He is there—without really understanding the rest of the gospel,” Pierre explains. “I just knew that God was there, and so that helped me to stay on the right path.”
That foundation of scripture study sustained Pierre throughout all his schooling and even now through his army training. Before enlisting, Pierre served a mission in Montreal, Quebec, Canada, where his testimony and understanding of the gospel were solidified.
“The scriptures are one of the most tangible ways Heavenly Father answers us,” he says.
Through his daily prayer and scripture study, Pierre is able not only to receive inspiration but also to be an example to those in his army unit. While he and his classmates may not have much in common besides their national pride, Pierre knows that by following the teachings of the scriptures, he will be someone they can respect because of and not in spite of his beliefs.

A little while back, my friend and I were going to the girls’ washroom at school to wash our hands. We had just been doing an art project and had paste on our fingers. But when we got to the bathroom the sink was a complete disaster! There was soapy water everywhere. My friend and I quickly decided that we should clean it up before washing our hands. When we finished I felt good inside. I have just been baptized and I knew it was the Holy Ghost giving me that warm feeling. I am trying to act more Christlike every day.

In August of the next year, 1837, the Prophet Joseph Smith, with Sidney Rigdon and Thomas B. Marsh, then President of the Twelve Apostles, visited Toronto. Riding in a carriage and holding evening meetings by candlelight, they visited the churches. Elder Taylor accompanied them. He said: “This was as great a treat to me as I ever enjoyed. I had daily opportunities of conversing with them, of listening to their instructions, and in participating in the rich stores of intelligence that flowed continually from the Prophet Joseph.”

After I graduated from high school, I was drafted by the Los Angeles Dodgers on June 5, 1993. I had already signed a letter of intent to play baseball for BYU, and my plan was to go to college in Provo. After I had gone through the long, difficult process and come to the conclusion that I was going to go on a mission, I told the [baseball] scouts of my plans. I was called stupid by some scouts. But I did have one scout—the one who drafted me for the Dodgers—who told me if I went on my mission it would only help me when I returned to come and play baseball again. He said that’s mainly the reason why I was drafted. He just thought a mission would help me.

Well, my mission has helped me in more ways than that scout will ever know. I’ve had days out here where I’ll think back to when I was pitching, and I’ve come to realize that in the mission field there are more important things than baseball. I don’t think I really realized that back home. My testimony has grown a lot. I’ve learned so much out here about what I believe and about why I was given talents. I can see now that I can play baseball to build the kingdom of our Heavenly Father if I use that talent correctly. Had I gone straight into baseball without going on a mission, I might have fallen into the selfish I’m-playing-baseball-for-me trap.

Learning those lessons has been one of the great things about my mission. That’s why I’m so happy I chose to serve a mission, because that summer after I graduated from high school I wasn’t sure what I would do. I had this tempting offer from the Dodgers, but I had also signed a letter of intent to BYU.

When I got to high school, I made the baseball team and was a starting pitcher my freshman year. So when I was drafted, I had to jump back a little and look at things. I had a big decision to make. Would I accept the Dodgers’ offer, or would I go to BYU? Would I go on a mission?

Having already made that decision when I was younger really helped me as far as deciding about my mission and baseball. Once the Dodgers started talking money with me, I started getting really serious. I realized these guys were going to give me a lot of money to play ball for them. I needed to make a commitment one way or the other. I spent a lot of time on my knees never really feeling anything. I think part of the reason for that was because I was looking for the answer I wanted. I wanted to play professional baseball. I wanted that really bad.

Finally, by the end of the summer, I decided to sit down and kick everything out of my mind. Not long after, I had the feeling I should go to BYU and continue my baseball career there. I also had a strong feeling that I was supposed to go on a mission.

Many a major league scout came up to me and said the basic line, “If you play baseball you’ll be able to influence so many people.” I wondered if maybe that was what I was supposed to do.

It was during this time that I realized I needed to serve a full-time mission, and what the scouts were suggesting wasn’t for me. Now, almost two years since I was set apart as a missionary, I have a few new things to think about. Since the Dodgers lost the right to sign me when I went on my mission, I was eligible to be drafted again last June. I didn’t think any team would take a chance on me while I was serving a mission, but the Chicago Cubs did draft me. My plan right now is to finish my mission this month, and then return home and see what the Cubs are offering me. I’ll just have to wait and see.

Looking back on what has happened to me has helped me realize that the “sacrifice” I made to come on a mission was really not a sacrifice at all. I wouldn’t trade my mission experiences, good or bad, for all the money in the world. The Lord has made it possible for me to experience a mission and still continue to play baseball once I return.

I have loved my mission. I love baseball, but I also have loved the time I’ve been serving the Lord.

My wife and I served as mission leaders in the Czech Republic and Slovakia. I wanted to go to every Primary in the area. I loved these visits. While I was there, I learned three things about Primary children.
First, I learned that you can feel and recognize the Holy Ghost.
Second, I learned that you want to learn about spiritual things.
Third, I learned that Heavenly Father is aware of you. He wants you to have spiritual experiences.
During my visits, I talked with the children about many things. We talked about the Holy Ghost, baptism, and repentance. I also shared my testimony of the Book of Mormon with them. I told them that they could gain a testimony of the Book of Mormon too.
One of these Nativity scenes is from the Czech Republic, where Elder McConkie visited Primary children as a mission leader. Follow the paths to find out where the other scenes are from.
Illustrations by Melissa Manwill Kashiwagi

Two gentlemen in a ward became single at about the same time, each after years of marriage to their wives. When the first man became single, the ward reached out frequently, provided meals, and found ways to make sure he didn’t feel so alone. For the second gentleman, this ministering did not take place, and he was left feeling isolated and unequal.
What was the difference between the two men? The first was widowed and the second divorced. As the divorced gentleman shared this experience with me, his plea was simple: can we help Church members better understand how to minister to those who are divorced and to recognize that they still have an equal, valued place in our wards and branches?

Near my home was a hotel we often went to that had an arcade, a bowling alley, and a good restaurant. I spent many fun times bowling with my brothers and our friends. To get to the bowling alley, we had to go through the hotel’s casino. There is a distinct image in my mind to this day of the smell of cigarette and cigar smoke and the dropping of coins into the metal basins from the slot machines. The image of countless people sitting in the same place for hours playing cards or pulling levers on slot machines seems to be a constant reminder to me of the shallow habit of gambling.
One day a friend of mine, while leaving the bowling alley, tried his luck at a game of chance they called “Megabucks.” The winnings were well over a million dollars. You had to play several dollars at a time to have a chance at winning. Of course, he lost, and he kept on losing. Within five minutes he lost $60, and the only thing he had to show for it was his contribution to the grand total that would eventually go to someone else. My friend lost $60, yet I gained a greater distaste for the gambling habit and a greater resolve to keep the Lord’s commandments. Like other occasions in my life, this became a defining moment that strengthened my resolve to put my occasional past blemishes behind me and turn to the Lord with full purpose of heart.

During the cold and gray days of the Great Depression I remember a wonderful servant of the Savior by the name of C. Perry Erickson. Brother Erickson, a contractor, had a difficult time finding work. He could have shut himself up. He could have become bitter and angry. He could have given up. Instead, when I was 12 he was my Scoutmaster. He spent countless hours helping me and others my age to learn, to grow, and to approach every difficulty with confidence and optimism. Without exception, every one of C. Perry Erickson’s Scouts received an Eagle award. I knew then.

In later years, after Mother had a stroke, Father faithfully cared for her every need. The last two years of her life required 24-hour care, he being called by Mother every few minutes, day or night. I shall never forget his example of loving care for his cherished companion. He told me it was small payment for over fifty years of my mother’s loving devotion to him.

One Saturday afternoon in September 1985, our family was enjoying a restful afternoon under the shade of a tree after a late lunch at our new home in Gigiri, Nairobi. We had moved there earlier that year and found that the garden needed much work. We did not have the money to hire a professional landscaping contractor, and so we made it a family project to do the work ourselves. As we had done on most Saturdays for several months, we spent much of the morning and early afternoon digging up the lawn to level it in preparation for planting new grass and flowers.
It was in this situation that, without prior appointment, two gentlemen walked in through the gate. One was an extended family member whom we knew well. He introduced his companion as an engineer who had recently returned from the US where he had gone to study.
That engineer and his family became new family friends. We learned that he was a member of a church which was not yet established in Kenya at that time. A short while later, Sister Sitati and I felt the desire to check on him after visiting a relative who lived in his neighborhood. Soon after we arrived at his home, the senior couple missionary—who later baptized us into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—walked in. After answering our curious questions, the couple invited us to attend church in their home the following Sunday. We accepted the invitation. The rest is history—we have attended church every Sunday since then.
Out of the normal and natural interactions of our lives, our family came to learn about and join the Church.

Long before I joined the Church, I was a critic of it. I gathered false information about the Church and criticized my friends who were members.
Despite my ignorance, I was soon converted to Christ through missionary lessons, which transformed me to the point where I desperately wanted to serve a full-time mission.
To strengthen my testimony, I participated in missionary lessons almost all the time, and every moment I spent at a lesson with the missionaries made me more eager to proclaim the restored gospel.
For four good years, the Lord’s invitation in Doctrine and Covenant 88:81 lingered on my mind. Meanwhile, I was learning an electrical and plumbing trade that would take almost three years to complete. This job prevented me from attending Church regularly.
During this time of doubt and reflection on the decision to take, I was inspired by the Savior’s promise in Matthew 6:33–34.
After careful reflection, I finally resolved to accept the call to serve a full-time mission, and it was at this point that I began to encounter a series of obstacles.

For a moment, may I take you back 142 years when there was, of course, no tabernacle here, nor temple, nor Temple Square. On July 24, 1847, the pioneer company of our people came into this valley. An advance group had arrived a day or two earlier. Brigham Young arrived on Saturday. The next day, Sabbath services were held both in the morning and in the afternoon. There was no hall of any kind in which to meet. I suppose that in the blistering heat of that July Sunday they sat on the tongues of their wagons and leaned against the wheels while the Brethren spoke. The season was late, and they were faced with a gargantuan and immediate task if they were to grow seed for the next season. But President Young pleaded with them not to violate the Sabbath then or in the future.

The next morning they divided into groups to explore their surroundings.

Brigham Young, Wilford Woodruff, and a handful of their associates hiked from their campground a little to the south of us, on past the ground where we are, and up the hill to the north of us. They climbed a dome-shaped peak, President Young having difficulty because of his recent illness.

When the Brethren stood on the summit, they looked over this valley to the south of them. It was largely barren, except for the willows and rushes that grew along the streams that carried water from the mountains to the lake. There was no building of any kind, but Brigham Young had said the previous Saturday, “This is the place.”

The summit where they stood was named Ensign Peak out of reference to these great prophetic words of Isaiah: “And he [speaking of God] will lift up an ensign to the nations from far, and will hiss unto them from the end of the earth: and, behold, they shall come with speed swiftly.” (Isa. 5:26.)

“And he shall set up an ensign for the nations, and shall assemble the outcasts of Israel, and gather together the dispersed of Judah from the four corners of the earth.” (Isa. 11:12.)

There is some evidence to indicate that Wilford Woodruff took from his pocket a bandanna handkerchief and waved it as an ensign or a standard to the nations, that from this place should go the word of the Lord, and to this place should come the people of the earth.

I think they may also on that occasion have spoken of the building of the temple, which today stands a few feet east of here, in fulfillment of the words of Isaiah:

“And it shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow unto it.

“And many people shall go and say, Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths: for out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.” (Isa. 2:2–3.)

How foolish, someone might have said, had he heard these men that July morning of 1847. They did not look like statesmen with great dreams. They did not look like rulers poring over maps and planning an empire. They were exiles, driven from their fair city on the Mississippi into this desert region of the West. But they were possessed of a vision drawn from the scriptures and words of revelation.

I marvel at the foresight of that little group. It was both audacious and bold. It was almost unbelievable. Here they were, almost a thousand miles from the nearest settlement to the east and almost eight hundred miles from the Pacific Coast. They were in an untried climate. The soil was different from that of the black loam of Illinois and Iowa, where they had most recently lived. They had never raised a crop here. They had never experienced a winter. They had not built a structure of any kind. These prophets, dressed in old, travel-worn clothes, standing in boots they had worn for more than a thousand miles from Nauvoo to this valley, spoke of a millennial vision. They spoke out of a prophetic view of the marvelous destiny of this cause. They came down from the peak that day and went to work to bring reality to their dream.

I have become a product of that, because when my mother’s family arrived here in Salt Lake City, they were sent out to Tooele to settle. Then later they were sent up into Idaho, where a sawmill and a gristmill were needing to be built. My father’s family had settled in Farmington, Utah, part of this colonization that I’m referring to—the colonization that made people stronger and gave them opportunities. Rather than being lost in a big city, they were asked to move to a smaller community where they could develop their ability and where there would be more schools and a need for more schoolteachers and where people with talent would develop their ability. Out of all of this, my family were asked to leave Farmington and Tooele, to sell their green acres, and go out into southern Idaho, where there was nothing at that time but sagebrush.
In a little settlement of that kind, my mother and father fell in love. By the time they were 20 years old and ready to be married, where would they be married? In the Logan Utah Temple. How would they get there? By buggy. How long would it take? Well, five or six or seven days. Highways and good roads? Of course not. They went by roads made by wagons going over the sagebrush and through the bushes and over the rocks. Where would they be married? Where would they be sealed? Only one place—the temple. They went by buggy.

“I miss everyone in our branch,” Olga said sadly. She and her family were the only ones in Sunday School again.
Olga’s sister, Wilma, closed her scriptures. “I miss them too.” Mom and Grandma nodded.
Olga wanted to cry. When she was baptized, 60 people came to church each week! But then World War II started. Because of the war, all of the missionaries in Brazil had to go home. Without them, there weren’t enough priesthood holders to have regular Church meetings. They couldn’t bless the sacrament or baptize people.
The branch stopped renting the church building. Church members met in people’s houses to study the scriptures instead. And one by one, they all started going to other churches.
When the war ended, Olga thought the branch would have church meetings again. But there weren’t enough people. So Olga and her family kept meeting alone on Sunday.
“I miss singing with everyone,” Olga said. “And I miss the children who used to come to church.”
“Me too,” said Grandma.
Over the next few days, Olga thought hard about what to do. She prayed for help. “Heavenly Father, please help us know how to make our branch strong again.”
One day Olga had an idea. She went outside. Two girls were playing under a tree.
“Olá!” Olga said. “Would you like to come to my church’s class for children tonight? We’ll learn about Jesus, sing songs, and have fun.”
The girls looked at each other. “Sure,” one of them said.
“Great! If your parents say you can come, meet me here later. We can walk to the class together.”
Olga waved goodbye and walked down the street. She found more children playing futebol (soccer). Olga invited them all.
Some of the children had come to church before. They were excited to come again! Other kids didn’t want to come. But Olga let them all know they were welcome.
Later that night, Olga gathered the children who said they would come, along with their parents. They all walked together to her house.
Mom and Grandma taught the parents in one room. Olga and Wilma taught the children in another. Olga sang songs with them. Wilma told scripture stories.
Olga felt happy as she walked the children home. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “See you next week!”
Their branch was small, but Olga knew it would grow again. And she wanted to plan next week’s lesson right away!

“Robert Wood.” Robby frowned as he read his name aloud. All his friends called him Robby. His whole name looked strange and uncomfortable on the bright yellow Primary birthday calendar. It didn’t seem to belong with the names of the church kids. He wasn’t like them. He had only been to church about three times in his whole life. He wouldn’t have come today except that his new teacher, Sister Jensen, had sent him a special invitation and offered him a ride.
Robby liked singing the songs. Sharing Time was interesting, too. When his class was excused, he followed the other children to their classroom. They were way ahead of Sister Jensen. She was pretty old for a Primary teacher, and she stopped to talk with most of the class in the hallway.
Robby chose a seat at the very back of the room, but when he started to sit down, a boy kicked his chair out from under him. An ugly word popped out of Robby’s mouth. He was immediately sorry and blushed a deep red when he saw Sister Jensen standing in the doorway. She must have seen the whole thing.
The girls raised their hands and pointed at Robby. The boys snickered, and Robby wanted to run home. Sister Jensen closed the door and smiled at him. Then, turning to the girls, she said, “Oh, I just love to see so many volunteers for the prayer.”
The girls snatched back their hands, but Sister Jensen still assigned two of them to give prayers. During class, Robby watched Sister Jensen. She smiled a lot. She made Robby feel like he was just as important as the other children.
After class, Sister Jensen hugged each of the children as they left. When it was Robby’s turn, she quietly shut the door. Robby was alone with Sister Jensen, and he knew why. She was going to bawl him out for saying that angry word. Well, at least she hadn’t embarrassed him by doing it in front of everybody.
“I’m so glad you came today, Robert,” Sister Jensen said with a smile.
Robby looked down and traced a big X on the floor with his shoe.
When he didn’t answer, Sister Jensen continued, “I know that you’re embarrassed about what you said. If someone kicked a chair and made me fall, I would be pretty upset, too.”
“They wouldn’t do it to you,” Robby said. “They just do it to me because I’m not a church kid.”
Sister Jensen looked thoughtful as she bent to gather some of her things. When she straightened up, she was wearing her big smile again. “Sit down a minute, Robert,” she said, pointing to a chair.
Robby sat quietly while Sister Jensen pulled a chair up beside him.
“Do you like our bishop?”
Robby thought for a minute. He remembered the time the bishop came to his house when his mother was very sick and couldn’t care for the family. After that, some church ladies came by to help take care of them and his sick mother. The bishop seemed really nice. “Yeah, I think he’s OK.”
“Well, believe it or not, I used to be his Primary teacher.”
“Oh.” Robby nodded. “I guess you could have been; you are pretty old.” Robby blushed when he realized what he’d said.
Sister Jensen laughed heartily. “That’s true! He was a sweet little boy, just like you. You and he have a lot in common—his parents never brought him to church, either. I used to pick him up all the time. He even sat with me in sacrament meeting.
“When he was about your age,” Sister Jensen continued, “he decided to make choices that would help him the rest of his life. He had a little problem with angry words, and he decided that every time he became upset, he’d say ‘How exasperating!’ I told him that that was a good start, but that he also needed to fill his mind with good things. That way only good things would come out of his mouth.”
Robby traced another X on the floor with his other shoe. “Well, maybe when I’m a grown-up, I can do that, too,” he told her.
“But now’s the time to start to make important choices that will bless you throughout your life, including your choice of words.”
“How can words bless me?”
“When you are careful with the words you choose to say, you show others that you care enough about them not to offend them. It helps you gain more friends, and you’re also not offending your Heavenly Father. Besides, when you have good words inside, good actions often follow.”
Robby nodded that he understood, and he helped Sister Jensen gather up the rest of her materials.
The next Sunday, Sister Jensen picked Robby up in time for sacrament meeting. The bishop was conducting and seemed to be having a difficult time with some of the announcements. Finally he put down the paper he was reading, smiled at the ward members, and exclaimed, “How exasperating!”
Robby giggled as Sister Jensen nudged his arm. He leaned over and whispered, “That’s what I’m going to say when I’m mad, too.”
“Good for you, Robby,” Sister Jensen said with a wink.
In the Primary room, Robby again noticed his name on the yellow birthday board. “That’s funny,” he said.
“What’s that?” Sister Jensen asked.
“Last week my name seemed different.”
Sister Jensen looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Well, last week my name looked out of place up there by the names of the church kids. But today it looks like it belongs.”
Sister Jensen put her arm around Robby, and he noticed tears starting in her eyes. “That’s because you do belong here,” she said.

William W. Phelps set up a printing shop in Independence, where he published a newspaper. He also printed pages for the Book of Commandments, which contained some of the Lord’s revelations to the Prophet Joseph Smith. Today these revelations are in the Doctrine and Covenants.