Gospel Story Finder

President McKay had evidently seen the temple in vision and described it in such detail to Church architect Edward O. Anderson that he was able to reproduce it on paper. As the design process proceeded, the initial drawing was modified. Upon seeing the latest drawings, President McKay said, “Brother Anderson, that is not the temple that you and I saw together.” The final drawings, needless to say, reflected President McKay’s original description.

“Sick and ye visited me.” Do we show up in the ways people need us to? Shortly after our third child was born, I sat down to read a story on the couch with our girls. I was holding the book, had our new baby in my lap, and our two daughters were on either side of me. We weren’t very far into the book when I heard sniffling from Carly. I asked her what the matter was, and she tearfully said, “I just need an arm around.” [16] Sometimes it just takes a moment to put our arm around someone, offer an encouraging word, and reassure them that someone cares.

I sometimes compare myself to others and feel bad that I’m not as beautiful or “perfect” as them. Because of this, I went through some tough mental and emotional trials. I searched online for resources to get through them, but I couldn’t find anything that helped.

One day I decided, “I just need to get down and pray, because there’s someone up there who can give me the biggest hug.” So I relied on Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and genuinely prayed.

When I did, I remembered that Heavenly Father made me individually and in His image, so I need to appreciate myself. He put me here for a purpose, and I’m glad that I’m on the earth! Through the Holy Ghost, He reminded me that I’m so much more than I think, and that gave me strength.

I decided to get rid of social media and make sure that I was surrounding myself with the right people—people who showed me Christlike love. I’m so grateful for my friends in my Young Women class because they’re such lights. Anytime I criticized myself, they reminded me that I’m beautiful and have worth.

I still compare myself to others sometimes. But every time I pray, a still, small voice tells me, “Amara, you’re beautiful.”

Jesus Christ is my Redeemer and best friend. He’s always there for me, even when I feel like I’m not always remembering Him like I should. I know that He and Heavenly Father love me, and I love Them. I don’t think I would ever experience the type of love They give me anywhere else.

While studying dental surgery in Nantes, France, Gervais Gerard Zang began to have many questions about life that his Catholic faith did not answer. He began investigating many churches and, on this journey, he met the Latter-day Saint missionaries. He was baptized on 11 November 1989 and, after a few months, received the Melchizedek Priesthood and was ordained an elder in the Church. After obtaining his diplomas in dental surgery, he returned to Cameroon.
On 10 January 1993 the first branch of the Church in Cameroon was organized. Known as the Bastos Branch, it was established in Yaoundé, Cameroon, with Brother Zang as the branch president.
By September of the same year the Church was granted legal recognition by the president of Cameroon. Before the government granted recognition, about 30 people had been baptized and another 60 investigators were attending Sunday meetings. —Sister Julie Brough, Church History missionary in the Africa Central Area

As a 16-year-old I learned that the Lord does indeed listen to and answer sincere prayers, even those of a young man.
My father followed the counsel of the Brethren that we should be prepared with not only food but also fuel, and so each fall my younger brother and I would help him cut and haul firewood to be stored for future need. In the area of Virginia where we lived, trees were being downed to make way for new construction. There was a time allotted for those who wanted to cut up the wood and haul it off. One bright fall day, my father announced that we would drive out to one of these construction sites and get a truckload of wood.
It was my father’s job to work the chainsaw and cut the trees into pieces that my brother and I could haul to the truck. We had worked late into the afternoon when my father announced that we could pack up. After reaching into his pocket, he looked at us and said, “Oh no. I lost the keys.” At first we thought he was kidding, but then he pulled his pocket inside out and revealed a large hole. All three of us started to search where we had been. We looked and looked but could not find the keys.
It was getting late and cold. We had not dressed for the cool of evening, and it would have been a hike of several miles on country roads to get to where we could reach a phone. It was not a life-threatening situation, but to a tired 16-year-old, it seemed desperate. After searching for as long as I could, and realizing the futility of our efforts in this maze of wood and sawdust, I took the only course I thought was left. I went behind the pile of trees and there humbly pleaded to our Heavenly Father. I explained to Him what our situation was and asked if He could help us find the keys.
Answers to prayers come in many ways. On this occasion, as I opened my eyes, I felt a distinct prompting to go to a stack of trees where we had cut earlier that day. Even though we had each searched there previously, I walked over to that spot. As I arrived there, again a prompting came to look down into a hole between the large trunks lying across each other. It was now dusk and getting difficult to see, so at first I could not see anything in the dark hole, but as my eyes became adjusted I was excited to see a glimmer of metal. Just as I was about to reach down and grab the keys, the Spirit gave me a distinct warning not to put my hand in that hole. The prompting was so strong that I decided to examine the situation more closely. I squinted and could barely make out the reason why I was not to reach for the keys. There, curled in the leaves and sawdust next to the keys, was a copperhead snake.
I did the only thing a wise 16-year-old would do. I shouted, “Hey Dad, I found the keys,” and he responded, “Where?” I yelled, “Over here.” Then with a pause and a smile I added, “And you can get them out!” When my dad got to where I was, I explained to him our dilemma about the location of the keys and how our friend the snake was guarding them. My father got a long stick, slowly lowered it so as to not disturb the snake, and pulled out the keys.
Soon we were in a warm truck with a full load of wood and ready to head home when my father asked me how I ever found those keys. I told him. He believed me and reminded me that we should take a moment to express our gratitude to our Heavenly Father for finding the keys, and we did.

Some of the most enjoyable times to young Latter-day Saints in Panama are when a few of them get together, hop on a train, and go see some of the countryside. Since many of their parents work for the Canal company or for the government in Panama, even the ordinary roadsides with their profusion of tropical plants and flowers are interesting to them.
Nik Kovalenko and Marie Tueller from Balboa on the Pacific coast and Jeff and Karen Ward from Fort Davis on the Atlantic coast took trains and met at a small interior station called Frijoles. Here they picked up a boat that took them to Barro Colorado, an island in the middle of Gatun Lake. It was created when the lake was filled during the construction of the canal in 1914 and has been a biological research reserve ever since. It is a great place to see many of the native plants and animals in their natural environment. As they walked along the carefully marked trails, the young people enjoyed the exotic, tropical foliage and wildlife. By being extra quiet and careful they were able to stalk a band of wild howling monkeys. These animals have large necks and put them to good use as they roar and howl in ferocious-sounding, lionlike noises at their visitors.
On their way home, the young people stopped at Summit Gardens where they could see many more of Panama’s plants and animals.

A new convert to the Church recently shared this story. “I was in and out of enforced confinement most of my teen years. It wasn’t so bad being there because the food was pretty good, and we were treated all right. But it did get boring, so when anyone had any reading material, funny books, magazines, or anything, we would trade our food for a chance to borrow those items. One day I saw a fellow with a nice, thick book. I knew it would take a long time to read, so I offered him my pork chops, my potatoes, and all my main course food items for a week. He accepted my offer and loaned me the book. As I read it, I knew I was reading something very special and very true. The book for which I had sacrificed my food was titled the Book of Mormon. When I had a chance, I found the missionaries, changed my habits, and am now finding a new way of life. I love that book for which I traded my food.”
Here was an unusual but worthwhile sacrifice with rewarding results. This convert indicated that the more time he spends with this book, the greater his love becomes for the truths he is finding between its covers.

When I was seven years old, I was diagnosed with cancer.
During the next year, I went through several rounds of chemotherapy and eventually a big surgery. The surgery left me cancer free until my freshman year of high school, when it came back and spread to my liver, where it remains to this day.
Through this whole process, I’ve become a stronger person as I’ve grown closer to my Savior. There were times when I felt like He was very close to me, telling me to keep fighting because my journey here on earth was not even close to done. These experiences strengthened my testimony of Christ.

Recently the Miller family participated in a ward program that helps new converts learn more about the gospel by attending group family home evenings. Angela and her father, Dan, taught a lesson about putting on the whole armor of God, based on Doctrine and Covenants 27:15–18. As her father taught that each part of the armor represents a quality that will help guard against temptation—such as the shield of faith and the sword of the Spirit—Angela added that piece to her costume. Everyone’s favorite part of the lesson was when Brother Miller taught about the fiery darts of the adversary, and the missionaries got to throw “fiery darts” made out of yellow paper and popcorn kernels at Angela’s “armor.”

Sister Hamilton and I served in Africa for five years. One of our Area Seventies, and a dear friend, was Elder Khumbulani D. Mdletshe.

Khumbulani learned of the Church in 1980 in a township outside of Durban, South Africa, at the age of fifteen, and he was baptized soon after.

A few years later, at age nineteen, he was called to serve as a full-time missionary in the London England Mission. He was one of the first Black members from South Africa to serve a full-time mission.

It might be hard to imagine, but Elder Mdletshe had never heard of the previous Church policy that restricted Black Africans from holding the priesthood. He simply had never been exposed to it. As Elder Mdletshe tells this story, one day as he and his companion were out tracting, they introduced themselves as missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to a man who then asked:

“You are a Mormon?” Before I could say a word, [the man] continued, “And you are black!” I looked at my hand to see if I was still black, and indeed I was. . . . Finally, I said to him, “Yes, I am black, and I am a Mormon.” He continued, “You are lost, Brother! How can you be a member of a racist church? Mormons do not accept blacks in their church.”40

This stopped Elder Mdletshe in his tracks, since he had never heard this before. As they left the man’s house, Elder Mdletshe turned and asked his companion, “What was that all about?”

The companion did the best he could to answer Elder Mdletshe’s questions, and in doing so informed him of the priesthood and temple restrictions that had previously existed for members of Black African descent.

Elder Mdletshe thought about this new information for several days and finally concluded that he could no longer be a member of the Church, let alone serve as a missionary. He made an appointment with his mission president to let him know that he would be returning home and resigning his membership.

Elder Mdletshe wrote:

President Pinegar had me come to his office. I rehearsed what had happened . . . and voiced my decision to return home to South Africa. I . . . told him that I could not be a member of a racist church. . . .

After listening patiently to me, my mission president said, “Elder Mdletshe, . . . all I know . . . is that all worthy men can [now] be ordained to the priesthood [and that Joseph Smith saw the Father and the Son in the Sacred Grove].”41

I now quote from Elder Mdletshe:

President Pinegar helped me understand two things during that exchange:
One, [while it is true that] the Church did not ordain Black people to the priesthood [for a season], that is the past, and we do not have reasons as to why it happened; and
Two, he helped me understand that since I have a testimony of the restored gospel, including Joseph Smith having been called of God to restore [Jesus Christ’s Church] to the earth, why should I walk away? [With] those two truths firm in my mind and heart, I decided to stay.42

And that decision has made all the difference. Brother Khumbulani Mdletshe went on to become highly educated. He has been sealed in the temple and, with his beloved wife, Futhi, has raised a faithful family. He has served in the Church in Africa in many capacities, including Area Seventy and mission president.

Members of the Palo Alto First Ward, Menlo Park California Stake, watched in anticipation as a three-bedroom, two-bath, fully-carpeted home on Eighth Avenue was built last summer. Complete with a sun deck protected by overhanging oak boughs, the house is like many others in the region except for one thing—it was built, and then sold, by the priests quorum in the Palo Alto First Ward.
The project was undertaken with a fourfold goal in mind: (1) to strengthen quorum brotherhood, (2) to put the principle of work into action, (3) to raise money for a special summer activity, and (4) to prepare for missionary service. A year’s worth of work went into the planning, construction, and selling of “the House.” After paying off the loan and other expenses incurred in the project, the quorum made a profit of $10,000. Eighty percent of this went into a missionary trust fund for quorum members, ten percent was divided among the members, and ten percent went into a fund to finance quorum activities.
Each member of the quorum had specific tasks for which he was responsible. Some of these included lot acquisition, demolition, carpenter foreman, payroll and accounting, shingling, electrical work, heating, sheet metal work, plumbing, and interior design and color coordination. The quorum was assisted by members of the teachers quorum and four nonmembers who are now actively participating in and/or investigating the Church and its programs. Adviser for the entire project was Young Men president and priests quorum adviser Dick Jacobsen.

What of marriage responsibility? Are there some who delay marriage for fear of the responsibility? When my wife and I were married, we had the magnificent sum of 20 English pounds between us. Although young, we felt ready for the challenges and responsibilities that we knew lay ahead. What a glorious experience it has been now for almost 40 years to shoulder responsibility and struggle together in building a happy home and a wonderful family of ten precious children.

Another great example of acting in the face of understandable fear is Rosa Parks. 29 Over the last three years I have had the privilege of coteaching a civil rights course and visiting historical sites central to the civil rights movement. One of my favorite sites to visit is the Rosa Parks Museum. Mrs. Parks is known for her courageous stand on a bus in Montgomery, Alabama, when she refused to give up her seat. Until visiting her museum and reading more about her life, I did not realize that numerous African Americans had been beaten, arrested, raped, or shot in Montgomery during the decade before her refusal to give up her seat—all for taking a similar stance to Mrs. Parks’ action.
In my study of her, I have learned that Mrs. Parks was courageously acting long before that winter day in 1955. For example, she served as secretary in the local chapter of the NAACP and was a vigorous advocate for justice for black women who had been brutally raped in the South. However, as will be our experience, most of her courageous acts were unknown and unheralded. In the case of the bus boycott, she was in the right place at the right time, willing to do the right thing, which helped bring needed change to our country.
I have since asked myself, “Am I in the right place doing the right thing, willing to act as God prompts so I can do the work He has given me?” Listen to how one biographer described Mrs. Parks’ courage to act: “Parks made an active choice in that instance. . . . In a moment designed to frighten and degrade, she was able to see herself as an agent and claim a space of choice.” 30 I love that phrase “see herself as an agent and claim a space of choice.” When we have the courage to act, we open the door to healing. Mrs. Parks’ courageous act opened the door to the civil rights movement, a movement that brought a large measure of needed healing to this country.

I recently had an experience that changed my idea of service. It started when a professor of mine gave everyone in the class a one dollar bill. Our assignment was to find someone who really needed help and find a way to serve them using just the dollar we were given.
I did not think much about the assignment. In fact, I gave my dollar to a little boy so he could get a snack while he waited for his parents.
The day the assignment was due, a girl got up to talk about her experience. She said that everyone in the class got together to do their service project because if they combined their dollars they would have more to help someone.
I felt completely out of place because I had no idea what they were talking about.
The girl walked over and put a cardboard box on my desk and then she said, “Ryanne, this class loves you for your strength. We each started out with just a dollar, but we were able to put our dollars together and collect some from other people to give to you to help you pay for your arthritis medicine.”
Each member of the class took turns going up to the front and telling me why they loved me. Then they took the money they had raised and placed it in the box.
There were only 10 people in my class, but all together they had raised a few hundred dollars because they cared about me. I was so touched. And I was so impressed and grateful for the thought they had put into the assignment and the caring they showed to me. I was very appreciative of the money because it would help me get medicines that I needed.
The point my professor was trying to make was that everyone is blessed with gifts and talents. It is up to each of us to come up with ways to share our gifts and talents to serve those around us (see Matthew 25:14–30). I learned how wonderful, sincere, and thoughtful service can be.
In my case, my classmates were able to find a way to use their dollars to impact my life. It was more than just the money; it was friendship.

Sister Kristie Wilson
I am one of eight sisters working as a welfare missionary in a Vietnamese refugee camp. Since most of the people in camp have never heard of Jesus Christ or Heavenly Father and to help them better appreciate the Savior’s birth, we held a special activity just before Christmas. The Primary children reenacted the manger scene and story as told in Luke. They were as delighted to do it as we were to watch.
Christmas Eve we went caroling through the camp. It was a neat experience to roam through the billets and share the news of the Savior’s birth through song. The Spirit overcame language barriers, and we were avle to celebrate the Savior’s birth with one heart and mind. I have never been so exhausted. I have never been so at peace.

I am a 77-year-old returned missionary and graduate of BYU—also a fan of the New Era. I enjoyed “Time Out for a Mission” in the June New Era. I would like to bear testimony to the fact that going on my mission before finishing college was one of the best things I ever did. My eight brothers and sisters and I were born in the shadows of BYU in Provo, and our parents were educators, so we were expected to become college graduates. In many ways I was a “shrinking violet” personality until after I filled my mission. Reentering BYU after returning from my mission, I would head for the front seat in all of my classes. I wasn’t afraid to raise my hand and answer questions. I had become an outgoing, friendly person and received high grades in my classes. I attribute my success to what I gained by being a missionary before I finished college.
Rita D. Williams

Joseph Smith had a great way of doing this difficult work. Jesse W. Crosby related this story:

I went one day to the Prophet with a sister. She had a charge to make against one of the brethren for scandal. When her complaint had been heard the Prophet asked her if she was quite sure that what the brother had said of her was utterly untrue.
She was quite sure that it was.
He then told her to think no more about it, for it could not harm her. If untrue it could not live, but the truth will survive. Still she felt that she should have some redress.
Then he offered her his method of dealing with such cases for himself. When an enemy had told a scandalous story about him, which had often been done, before he rendered judgment he paused and let his mind run back to the time and place and setting of the story to see if he had not by some unguarded word or act laid the block on which the story was built. If he found that he had done so, he said that in his heart he then forgave his enemy, and felt thankful that he had received warning of a weakness that he had not known he possessed.
Then he said to the sister that he would have her to do the same: search her memory thoroughly and see if she had not herself unconsciously laid the foundation for the scandal that annoyed her.
The sister thought deeply for a few moments and then confessed that she believed that she had.
Then the Prophet told her that in her heart she could forgive that brother who had risked his own good name and her friendship to give her this clearer view of herself.
The sister thanked her advisor and went away in peace. [In Hyrum L. and Helen Mae Andrus, comps., They Knew the Prophet (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1999), pp. 162–63]

Our son-in-law Jeff recalls that through some of his teenage years, there were times he saw the commandments of God as restrictive, and he was like the kite that would cut its string at every opportunity. At that point in his life, obedience was a challenge. He would obey at times largely out of duty to his family or when motivated by fear of punishment. He says he didn't feel a love for the Savior--that he did not really know Him. Fortunately, through the influence of those around him, including his parents and a Young Men adviser, he was obedient enough that the Spirit could touch him with some understanding and desire to do good. Line upon line, he slowly progressed and became converted to the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Jeff remembers: "Looking back 30 years later, I can see that I have been caught up in a virtuous cycle of obeying and receiving light and knowledge, which causes me to want to obey more. I see in my own life the truth that President Dieter F. Uchtdorf taught: 'We come to see obedience not as a punishment but as a liberating path to our divine destiny. And gradually, the corruption, dust, and limitations of this earth begin to fall away. Eventually, the priceless, eternal spirit of the heavenly being within us is revealed, and a radiance of goodness becomes our nature.'"[18]

When our eldest daughter was to be married to a fine Latter-day Saint boy the two mothers were in the corner of the room talking to each other, and the mother of our oldest daughter said, “You know, from the time my little girl was born, I have been praying all my life that somewhere a mother would be preparing a son worthy to marry my daughter.” And this other mother smiled and said, “Isn’t that strange? This is my only son who is being married to your daughter, and ever since he was born, I, too, have been praying that somewhere there would be a mother preparing a daughter worthy to meet and to marry my son.”
It is that kind of home attention—mothers preparing daughters, fathers and mothers, sons—that will make us and our homes stronger today.
President Harold B. LeeConference Report, October 1964, p. 86.

And now, my brothers and sisters, I would like to tell you about another feature of this wonderful building. If I get a little personal and even a little sentimental, I hope you will forgive me.
I love trees. When I was a boy we lived on a farm in the summer, a fruit farm. Every year at this season we planted trees. I think I have never missed a spring since I was married, except for two or three years when we were absent from the city, that I have not planted trees, at least one or two—fruit trees, shade trees, ornamental trees, and spruce, fir, and pine among the conifers. I love trees.
Well, some 36 years ago I planted a black walnut. It was in a crowded area where it grew straight and tall to get the sunlight. A year ago, for some reason it died. But walnut is a precious furniture wood. I called Brother Ben Banks of the Seventy, who, before giving his full time to the Church, was in the business of hardwood lumber. He brought his two sons, one a bishop and the other recently released as a bishop and who now run the business, to look at the tree. From all they could tell it was solid, good, and beautiful wood. One of them suggested that it would make a pulpit for this hall. The idea excited me. The tree was cut down and then cut into two heavy logs. Then followed the long process of drying, first naturally and then kiln drying. The logs were cut into boards at a sawmill in Salem, Utah. The boards were then taken to Fetzer’s woodworking plant, where expert craftsmen designed and built this magnificent pulpit with that wood.
The end product is beautiful. I wish all of you could examine it closely. It represents superb workmanship, and here I am speaking to you from the tree I grew in my backyard, where my children played and also grew.
It is an emotional thing for me. I have planted another black walnut or two. I will be long gone before they mature. When that day comes and this beautiful pulpit has grown old, perhaps one of them will do to make a replacement. To Elder Banks and his sons, Ben and Bradley, and to the skilled workers who have designed and built this, I offer my profound thanks for making it possible to have a small touch of mine in this great hall where the voices of prophets will go out to all the world in testimony of the Redeemer of mankind.