Gospel Story Finder

As a boy of about 10, I didn’t feel like my prayers were really being answered. Finally I had enough courage to ask my father about it, and he explained that prayer was like a parachute that a pilot puts on when he flies an airplane. He doesn’t go up expecting to need to jump out of his airplane and use his parachute, but he puts it on every time so that when it’s really needed, he has it.
That was enough to help me in my young mind to continue my prayers and charge my spiritual battery. Also, as I watched my father use his priesthood, I gained courage and faith that I could someday do similar things. As time went on, I had experiences that taught me this principle was true. It has been important to continually charge that battery.

If you were to ask me if I believed in honesty, I would be a little bit offended. I would feel that you ought to know I believed in honesty. But let me tell you what I did a little while ago.

As our family was driving from Arizona, we stopped at a service station, and while the car was being serviced one of the children said, “Could we have some soda pop?” So, I went over to the vending machine. I put in one dime and I got out one bottle. I put in another dime and I got out another bottle. I put in a third dime and I got a third bottle. But then the gadget didn’t lock, and I got the fourth bottle out free. In all, I got four bottles for thirty cents. And as I was going over to the car to make the delivery, I thought, “They charge too much for this stuff anyway.” However, I have a little mental night watchman on duty up here in my brain someplace who started to make a fuss, and he said, “Look, Sterling, if you’re going to be a crook, you had better get more than ten cents out of it.”

I don’t know just what I would have done if soda water had cost a quarter, but I went back and put the other dime into the machine. Now, how can anyone tell whether or not I believe in honesty? By what I say about it, or by what I do while I am over at the vending machine where no one can see me except myself? Or, how are you going to tell whether or not I believe the gospel is true? By what I say in testimony meeting, or by the way I carry out my church assignments?

Amy and her mother were finished baking. The cookies were cooling, all round and brown.
“Why don’t I take one of these to Daddy,” said Amy. “He’s been working in the garden all morning.”
“Good idea,” replied Mummy.
Amy chose the cookie that had the most sugar and cinnamon on top. The edges she had scalloped with the cookie cutter were perfect. The cookie was bigger than the palm of her hand, and it felt warm.
Amy went outside. She crinkled her eyes against the bright sunshine and looked for her father down in the garden. She could see his blue shirt just above the green rows of vegetables.
Amy could smell freshly cut grass and the sweet scent of purple lilacs. She could also smell the cookie that she held in her hand. Amy’s mouth watered.
I’ll just take one little bite, thought Amy. She took a bite out of one side of the cookie. Now the scalloped edges were lopsided. I’ll have to even it out, Amy thought as she took a bite out of the other side. The cookie melted like snowflakes on Amy’s tongue.
She walked slowly down the path toward the garden. Peppy, Amy’s dog, was sleeping in the sun. As Amy walked past, he raised his head and sniffed. Then he got up and came begging.
“Just a smidgen, Peppy. It’s for Daddy, but I know he won’t mind if I share it with you.” Amy broke off a piece for Peppy, and he gobbled it up. “I need a smidgen too,” Amy said. “Just to keep you company.” Amy ate another little bit of cookie.
Now the cookie fit nicely into her hand. She could almost close her fingers around it. Amy walked under the flowering apple tree. The empty bird feeder hung from the lower branch.
“I should share this cookie with the birds, too,” Amy said to Peppy. “They haven’t had a treat since the snow left. I’ll put some on the feeder.”
Amy passed the fish pond. She stood for a moment, watching the orange fish dart in and out among the rocks. “Are you hungry, fish?” she asked. “Would you like a taste of my cookie?” Amy crumbled a piece and sprinkled it on the water. The fish rose to the surface, and the crumbs disappeared.
Daddy will be so pleased that I saved him some, Amy thought as she reached the garden.
Amy’s father was busy weeding. He didn’t look up right away.
I’ll just have one more taste, Amy thought. She nibbled carefully all around the cookie.
“Daddy,” she called. “I have a treat for you. I brought you one of the cookies Mummy and I baked.”
Daddy stood up. He wiped his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. “I am rather hungry,” he said. “I’ve done a lot of weeding today.”
Amy held out the cookie. But all that was left was a piece as big as Amy’s thumb. “Here. It was big when I started out, but it just disappeared along the way! First, Peppy wanted a taste, and then I gave the birds and the fish some,” she explained, adding, “I took a few teeny bites too.”
“It must have tasted good,” said Daddy, smiling. “Thank you.”
He took the little piece of cookie and popped it into his mouth. “Yes, delicious,” he said and laughed.
Amy laughed too. “I’ll get you another one Daddy.”
“Get two, Amy,” said her father. “One for me and one for you.”

The Gestewitz family has a great love for missionary work. In early 1987 the missionaries knocked on the door. Daniel’s mother, Tracy, answered it and was very curious about the young men and their message. She had seen the young men walking up and down the street in front of her home and had often wondered who they were and just why they were out on foot in the middle of the winter. So she invited them to come back when her husband, Kenneth, would be home. At the end of April Daniel’s parents were baptized and became members of the Lancaster Pennsylvania First Ward. A year later, when he was four years old, Daniel’s family was sealed in the temple.

Another “father” in my life was a member of my stake presidency. President Merrill was always at our stake dances, Young Women camps, and youth conferences.
As I was preparing to leave for college, President Merrill felt I needed some fatherly advice before heading into the world. His voice was gentle and soothing. I could feel his concern. I knew he loved me. He told me he would go as far as the Salt Lake Temple to attend my wedding.
A few years later, I called my father to announce my engagement. He was cold and indifferent. Nothing had changed. I tried not to cry. I turned to my Heavenly Father in prayer, and the Spirit reminded me of President Merrill’s promise. I wondered if he would remember what he had told me several years before. Did he really mean it? I picked up the phone and dialed his number. President Merrill answered. I stumbled through telling him of my engagement and asked if he remembered his promise to me. “What temple are you getting married in?” he asked.
“The Salt Lake Temple,” I answered.
“Then I will be there,” he said. He drove 13 hours in the snow to be there for me. When I walked into the sealing room with my soon-to-be husband, President Merrill was the first person I saw. He was my father that day!

One day when Tommy was about eight years old, he and his grandfather were sitting on the front-porch swing. An elderly man from England lived on the same street. His name was Robert Dicks, but most of the neighbors just called him “Old Bob.” He was widowed and poor.

Old Bob came over and sat down on the porch swing with Tommy and his grandfather. He said that the small adobe house where he lived was going to be torn down. He had no family, no money, and nowhere to go.

Tommy wondered how his grandfather would respond to the sad story. His grandfather reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather change purse. He took out a key and put it in Old Bob’s hand. “Mr. Dicks,” he said tenderly, “you can move your things into that empty house of mine next door. It won’t cost you a cent, and you can stay there as long as you like. And remember, nobody is ever going to put you out again.” Tears filled Old Bob’s eyes.

Do you remember President Nelson playing the song “Hope of Israel” on the piano in the worldwide Youth Music Festival on March 17, 2021? Calling us the Lord’s youth battalion, he invited us to let the Spirit guide us as we help to gather Israel in these latter days.
Probably like many of you, I wondered what I as a 15-year-old could do to follow the prophet’s invitation, especially in the middle of a worldwide pandemic.
A year earlier, President Nelson had also invited the world to #HearHim, meaning to listen to the words of the Lord Jesus Christ. I knew the Book of Mormon was another testament of Jesus Christ. The idea came to me to help people hear the Lord’s voice by sharing the Book of Mormon in a new way: as a podcast recorded by teenagers.
“I thought it would be cool to hear the book read by everyday teens like you and me.”
In addition to the professionally produced recordings of the Book of Mormon available from the Church, I thought it would be cool to hear the book read by everyday teens like you and me, the way we experience it. We don’t always read perfectly, and not everyone knows how to pronounce every word correctly. But that’s OK because none of us is perfect anyway. I actually kind of like the imperfections in some of the recordings—it makes me feel like I’m listening to one of my friends reading.
The project took a lot of work. It turns out that requesting, editing, assembling, publishing, and hosting a podcast with recordings from 250 different people is quite a big job. The result is a recording of the entire text of the Book of Mormon featuring readers from 15 U.S. states and 10 countries from around the world. The recordings can be heard on the website www.teensreadthebook.com and on all major podcast listening platforms under Teens Read the Book.
McKay (center in the yellow shirt) gathers with other youth who helped with the podcast. They enjoyed the chance to talk about the podcast and reflect on the blessing it was to work on it.
I love hearing the variety of voices and accents of youth who sent in recordings. Knowing their voices would be heard around the world, many readers worked very hard to get their recordings just right. Some, like Thomas from New Zealand (who read 3 Nephi 20) or José from Peru (who read 3 Nephi 23), practiced for hours or days before recording. A group of 10 youth from South Korea faced the challenge of English not being their first language. Their solution was to work together, each recording a few verses at a time and stitching them together into what became 2 Nephi 28 and 29.
My goal when I started the project was to help people feel the Spirit and come closer to Jesus Christ. Seeing youth, most of whom I don’t know, respond to my invitation showed me how deeply they felt about the Book of Mormon. Their words have now been downloaded and listened to thousands of times. They are helping people feel the Spirit of God.
One returned missionary wrote me saying that in recent months he had “been praying for a new way to read [the Book of Mormon] or a fresh way to study. This project has been an answer to my prayers.”
I am grateful to those who contributed to this project and for the way I felt the Lord’s help doing it. I am honored to be part of the Lord’s youth battalion, standing alongside others who love the Book of Mormon. I have also learned that when we respond to invitations from the Lord’s prophet, the Spirit will guide our efforts.
For myself, I know the Book of Mormon can help us feel the Spirit and draw closer to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Some of the happiest times of my life have been when I’ve consistently read from the Book of Mormon. I hope all of us in the Lord’s youth battalion will hear the Lord’s voice and feel His strength through the words of the Book of Mormon.
The author lives in California, USA.

While serving in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple as a full-time temple ordinance worker, I had the opportunity to share my lodging with a young sister missionary. Sister Kassah was serving in the Madagascar mission when she experienced some health challenges. She was then brought to South Africa for medical observation and treatment.
I was staying in a flat that was meant to house three single sisters serving in the temple, but at that time I was staying there by myself.
Upon her arrival—on a Saturday—Sister Kassah was understandably tired from travelling and from her health condition. I immediately assumed the role of a hostess and mother, tending to all her needs as if a guest in my home. I made a bed for her and prepared a meal for the both of us.
Prior to her arrival I often walked to the nearby shopping mall on Saturdays to get my supplies for the following week. What amazement it was for me on that Saturday afternoon, for as I prepared to leave for shopping, I received an immediate lesson from my guest. She told me that for as long as she was in my home, I was not to go anywhere without her.
And thus, an immediate change of roles occurred as she gently reminded me that I had become her companion and that we were to follow the prescribed missionary rules.
In an instant, my guest had become my trainer—overseeing, as it were, my compliance to the missionary rules.
In an instant, I became an obedient missionary companion.
In an instant, I developed an appreciation for my new circumstances.
In an instant, I developed a love for my new companion.
Sister Kassah was of the age of my own children. Oh, how I would have loved to mother her and take the lead and instruct her on how things were going to be done in my home. But it soon became evident that this was not going to be the case—for personified for me was the following scripture, “and a little child shall lead them” (2 Nephi 21:6).
We counselled together and I was further apprised of our daily program in this our combined home, with special attention to our need as companions to pray together and to hold scripture study.
In my previous circumstance I did my scripture study as and when I was awake; but now I had to abide by mission rules to awake at a certain time and have scripture study with my companion at the appointed time.
I am truly able to say that I did enjoy these new circumstances as my “daughter” companion, and I shared lessons each day. An added measure of the Spirit of the Lord was brought into our home, and a great bond of love and friendship was formed. (Another memorable aspect of this time was being able to enjoy sister Kassah’s cooking from West Africa!) And truly the seven days that we spent together came and passed by all too quickly.
As Sister Kassah departed, I held onto the promise found in Doctrine and Covenants 130:2, which says, “And that same sociality which exists among us here will exist among us there, only it will be coupled with eternal glory, which glory we do not now enjoy”.
The bond of love and the circle of friendship and sisterhood, plus the sociality spoken of, includes Sister Kassah and myself—and I now rejoice to call her a true mother, and also a friend.
I know that missionaries are truly servants of the Lord and are called to the work of the ministry. It was my privilege to be ministered by such a one.
I know that friendship is an eternal principle, and still rejoice in that choice time I was given to be a missionary companion for seven days.

My own blessing is short, and it is limited to perhaps three-quarters of a page on one side, yet it has been completely adequate and perfect for me. I received my patriarchal blessing as I entered my early teenage years. The patriarch promised that my blessing would “be a comfort and a guide” to me throughout my life. As a boy I read it over and over again. I pondered each word. I prayed earnestly to understand fully the spiritual meaning. Having that blessing early in my life guided me through all of the significant events and challenges of my life. I did not fully understand the meaning of my blessing until I gained more maturity and experience. This blessing outlined some of the responsibilities I would have in the kingdom of God on earth.
President Heber J. Grant told of the patriarchal blessing he received: “That patriarch put his hands upon my head and bestowed upon me a little blessing that would perhaps be about one-third of a typewritten page. That blessing foretold my life to the present moment.”
Elder John A. Widtsoe said: “It should always be kept in mind that the realization of the promises made may come in this or the future life. Men have stumbled at times because promised blessings have not occurred in this life. They have failed to remember that, in the gospel, life with all its activities continues forever and that the labors of earth may be continued in heaven. Besides, the Giver of the blessings, the Lord, reserves the right to have them become active in our lives, as suits His divine purpose. We and our blessings are in the hands of the Lord. But, there is the general testimony that when the gospel law has been obeyed, the promised blessings have been realized.”
This was well illustrated in my father’s patriarchal blessing. He was told in his blessing that he would be blessed with “many beautiful daughters.” He and my mother became the parents of five sons. No daughters were born to them, but they treated the wives of their sons as daughters. Some years ago when we had a family gathering, I saw my father’s daughters-in-law, granddaughters, and great-granddaughters moving about, tending to the food and ministering to the young children and the elderly, and the realization came to me that Father’s blessing literally had been fulfilled. He has indeed many beautiful daughters. The patriarch who gave my father his blessing had spiritual vision to see beyond this life. The dividing line between time and eternity disappeared.

It was our usual Sunday School class circus. Dennis was trying to balance on the back legs of his chair and tipped over, pulling the guys on either side of him down as he fell. Roger had some new jokes to tell, and Allan was doing tricks with his face. Elaine and I were writing notes to each other. The rest of the class was much the same, either laughing at the boys or providing their own entertainment. I had no idea that something the teacher would say that day would change my life.
The year we were 14, we didn’t quite know who was going to be our teacher each week. Each new teacher would give up and refuse to teach us again. But then we got one teacher who stuck with us, each week trying to give a lesson that we would listen to. This particular Sunday, our lesson had been on Joseph Smith. Just before the end of class, our teacher turned to us and said, “Joseph Smith was 14 when he prayed and got an answer to his prayer. You are 14. You can pray and get answers to your prayers too.”
Somehow that really hit me. The thought that I could pray and get an answer about something really important interested me.
I had been raised in the Church, baptized at eight, and went to church every Sunday and to every activity during the week. But I still needed to know for myself that the Church was true. My parents, my grandparents, my teachers all said that it was true, but I needed to know for myself. I decided to take my Sunday School teacher’s advice and pray about it.
That night, as I finished asking for blessings on my family, I asked the Lord if the Church was true. I waited for the answer—nothing. I was a little discouraged. I wanted an answer right away.
I still kept going to church, listening to the lessons, participating in Mutual activities, giving family home evening lessons. Every night I prayed to know if the Church was true. Still nothing.
Then one night, after many weeks of nightly prayers on the subject, I was feeling really bad that I hadn’t received any type of answer to my prayer. I talked to my Heavenly Father like I would talk to my own father and told Him how much I needed this answer. I explained how hard I was trying to find out what was right. I finished my prayer and was still kneeling when a sentence came into my mind. It wasn’t really a voice, but it was a sentence that had not been there before. I heard, “This is a good place for you to be.”
I had a wonderfully comfortable feeling. I still didn’t know for sure that the Church was true, but I knew that the Lord was aware of me and answered my prayer. He told me that church was a good place for me to be. I knew that if I kept going to church, to Mutual, and seminary, and continued to pray, that eventually my prayer would be answered completely.
My answer was just the first step, but it was a step that led to more answers.

“Teacher! teacher! Please run now they are coming after you,” the student in a black hijab shouted at me. I couldn’t figure out why she said that. I was serving as a teacher in a village in the northern part of the country as a corper in the compulsory national youth service scheme.
Again, the warning sounded and this time, all the students in the class ran away leaving me behind. As I came out of the classroom, I saw large group of people gruesomely hacking some of my colleagues down. “What in the world is this?” I asked only to discover that I was asking the empty walls and I immediately took to my heels as the irate mobs saw me and started running towards my direction. As I ran and jumped trenches in the bush, I saw charred and dismembered bodies of old and young people.
The mobs chased me for what seemed like ages determined to do their worst. I fell into a hole and passed out. I must have stayed in the hole for many hours as it was now dark when I regained consciousness. Minutes later I heard voices of people searching for me saying, “We must find him and kill him! He is somewhere around here! He is an infidel, a Christian!” I was so afraid and started praying. As I prayed, I felt an overwhelming assuring power come over as if to say, “Be still, I am with you always.” I got up and climbed out of the hole and started saying these words as I walked aimlessly “though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4) then the sound of a gunshot and flickers of torch lights interrupted me.
Thank God! The soldiers came to my rescue. Days later as we went to corper’s lodge to pick our belongings, all had been burnt except my Book of Mormon.

I recall as a young man when I first heard our text quoted from the Doctrine and Covenants, I went to my own mother and exclaimed, “Well, Mom, how does it feel to have all my sins on your head?” Then she taught me the lesson of that passage. She said, “Ah, Paul, you forgot to read carefully what the Lord said. He said that the sin be upon the head of parents if they do not teach their children the principles of the gospel. And you’ve been taught!”

And I had been taught! Thank the Lord for parents who realize their responsibility to instill in their children the principles of the gospel and who follow the counsel of the Lord’s prophets. Parents in the Church today have been counseled to regularly, consistently, and inspiringly hold family home evenings and to take advantage of other great teaching moments to so acquaint their children.

I’ve seen what “suffereth long” and “endureth all things” mean. A family moved into a house near us. The home was new, so I was part of the crew of Latter-day Saints who spent a number of nights putting in landscaping. I remember the last night, standing next to the husband of the family as we finished. He surveyed our work and said to us standing nearby, “This is the third yard you Mormons have put in for us, and I think this is the best.” And then he quietly but firmly told me of the great satisfaction he got from membership in his own church, a conversation we had often in the years he lived there.

In all that time, the acts of kindness extended to him and his family never ceased because the neighbors really came to love them. One evening I came home to see a truck in his driveway. I had been told they were moving to another state. I approached to see if I could help. I didn’t recognize the man I saw loading household things into the truck. He said quietly as I drew near, “Hello, Brother Eyring.” I hadn’t recognized him because he was the son, now grown older, who had lived there, married, and moved away. And because of the love of many for him, he was now a baptized member of the Church. I don’t know the end of that story because it will have no end. But I know that it begins with love.

Finally, I would like to share with you one more interesting experience, which Brother and Sister Edwin Q. Cannon, Jr., had on their mission in West Africa.
The story concerns an outstanding black Latter-day Saint family by the name of Sampson-Davis, who reside in Accra, Ghana.
In 1963 Brother Sampson-Davis graduated with a degree in electronics from Oxford University in England and was hired by the Philips Electronics Company in Eindhoven, Holland. Sister Sampson-Davis came over from Africa to join her husband in that Dutch town, and one day she met the Mormon missionaries, received a Book of Mormon, and had the first missionary discussion in the boarding house where she was living.
I feel somewhat embarrassed, however, to tell you that the Dutch landlady with whom Sister Sampson-Davis boarded told her in no uncertain terms to have no further contact with those Mormons.
The Sampson-Davis family eventually went back to Ghana, and fifteen years later, in 1978, Sister Sampson-Davis came in contact with the Church again and faithfully started to attend the Sunday meetings. The family was taught the missionary discussions, gained a strong testimony; and Brother Ted Cannon baptized the mother, two sons, and a daughter in a swimming pool in Accra.
The oldest boy, Crosby Sampson-Davis, started to prepare himself for a mission, which resulted in his mission call earlier this year. Two weeks ago Elder Sampson-Davis left the Missionary Training Center to serve in the England Manchester Mission. Interestingly enough, the father joined the Church one month before his son left for his mission. So the whole family is now united in the faith!
Brother and Sister Cannon really have seen the fruits of their labors, and they have choice memories of the time they spent with our Heavenly Father’s children in Africa.

My tourist visa ended and I had to return to Taiwan. During the following months alone, I missed what I had felt. For a time, I was filled with despair and darkness. Those feelings were so overwhelming that I wanted to give up. I didn’t really know how to pray, but I called out to God and told Him everything I was feeling and thinking. A feeling of peace came—the same feeling I had experienced when I had attended our home church. I know it was the Holy Ghost. He calmed me down.

One of the first things I did as a member of the Church was read the Book of Mormon. Reading it helped strengthen my testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith. I learned that if the Book of Mormon is the word of God, then Joseph Smith is a true prophet of God and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the true Church upon the earth. I shared my beliefs with my family, and a few years later my mother, brother, and sister were baptized.

Thomas B. Marsh was another favored associate of the Prophet Joseph. Over this pulpit in the April 1984 general conference, President Hinckley reminded us that Brother Marsh was serving as the President of the Quorum of the Twelve when he chose to disregard the decisions of the First Presidency and other Church leaders in a dispute between his wife and another woman over some milk strippings.
When, as did the prodigal son, he finally “came to himself,” he wrote to Heber C. Kimball, who had been his associate in the Quorum of the Twelve, stating:
“Having lost my wife three years since, I began to awake to a sense of my situation; … I know that I have sinned against Heaven and in thy sight and have rendered myself unworthy of your confidence; or of a place in the family of Heaven. … I deserve no place among you in the church even as the lowest member; but I cannot live long so without a reconciliation with the 12 and the Church whom I have injured.” He then recited the typical lesson his years of rebellion had taught him: “The Lord could get along very well without me and He has lost nothing by my falling out of the ranks; But O what have I lost?! Riches, greater riches than all this world or many planets like this could afford.” He pleaded with his brethren for comfort and peace and their smiles upon him.
After being rebaptized, Thomas came to Salt Lake City, where he asked Brigham Young, the President of the Church, for forgiveness. He was invited by President Young to speak at a Sunday service where Thomas offered this advice to his listeners: “If there are any among this people who should ever apostatize and do as I have done, prepare your backs for a good whipping, if you are such as the Lord loves. But if you will take my advice, you will stand by the authorities.”

An opportunity arose once to teach my son Hank how to make more empowered choices. One evening I pulled an audible and told him I was replacing our usual Little Caesars pizza with a healthier option of an English muffin topped with tomato sauce and fresh mozzarella.

He responded, “Well, I can choose for myself, and I decide not to taste your pizza.”

With some motherly teaching—or, as some would say, motherly persuasion—I said he could make that choice only after he took a bite of my alternate selection. And yes, he did end up liking my pizza.

Nearly 400 young people from three stakes in Ohio recently made their way through an Ohio 4-H camp, leaving fresh paint and new structures as they went.

“These young people from the Mormon church have completed in one day what it would normally take a year-and-a-half to do,” said camp director Conn Drake.

Teams of youth installed insulation, hung drywall, and painted several buildings. They also constructed a large picnic shelter, refurbished a miniature golf course, built 25 picnic tables, ten park benches, nesting boxes, birdhouses, and wooden signs. Trails were improved and created, and they built a baseball diamond complete with backstop.

In 1975, the Bollbachs were surprised by another mission call, this time to the Germany Frankfurt Mission. About the same time, Elli discovered she had cancer. “No one can imagine the fear we felt,” Fritz explains. “Within one week, she underwent three operations. The curious thing was the blessing the bishop gave her. He said to her, ‘Elli, you will recover, and you will again go into the mission field with Fritz to serve God.’ We wondered how he could say such a thing.”
Sister Bollbach recuperated from the operations, and they served an eighteen-month mission in Pirmasens, Germany, near the French border.