Gospel Story Finder

After several meetings with the missionaries, I was not making much progress. I felt I had not received a confirmation of the truthfulness of the gospel.

One day, Renee asked me, “Are you reading the Book of Mormon?”

I replied, “No.” I was listening to the missionaries—wasn’t that enough?

With tears in her eyes, Renee assured me that she knew the Book of Mormon is true and explained that if I wanted to know if it is true, the only way is—guess what—to read it! And then ask!

In another instance, at Young Men camp, he listened when someone got up and spoke about his patriarchal blessing. “I hadn’t thought too much about that,” he recalls. “A week later I went for my interview, and a month later I got my patriarchal blessing.”

At the dance, Ashley Park displayed what it means to be happy. She had a nonstop smile on her face the whole time and made sure that everyone was dancing. Because Ashley is a leader over many girls, she doesn’t have just one assigned friend. But she thinks highly of all those whom she helps. “They’re just happy,” she says. “They’re content with life because they know they’re children of God.” A testimony that God loves all of us, Ashley says, is key to being happy.

The Kloosterman family has enjoyed the blessings of being free from the bondage of debt. When Kevin Kloosterman was called as the bishop of his ward in Illinois, USA, his family had some consumer debt. His stake president reminded him of the First Presidency’s counsel, and Bishop Kloosterman left the interview determined to pay off the debt. “We had always … tried to put the Lord first,” he recalls. “In this one case, we hadn’t.”
The Kloosterman family studied the scriptures and modern-day counsel related to finance and debt and took the steps necessary to achieve their goal. It became clear that they were being blessed by the Lord for heeding the counsel of His servants. “There is no affliction in mortality which the Savior cannot heal,” Bishop Kloosterman says. “If He can deliver us from the captivity of sin and death, He can certainly deliver us out of financial bondage.”

The Incredible Journey In this tale of three courageous animals, Tao the cat rescues old Bodger, an ugly bull terrier, from an angry mother bear, then is rescued herself from drowning. This classic is for everyone, especially for all those who have “ever been owned by an animal.”Sheila Burnford10–13 years

Consider these examples: A couple called to India helped a school for blind children build sanitary facilities and acquire braille typewriters. A couple in Hawaii nurtured a little branch of 20 members to 200 and prepared 70 members to attend the temple together. A couple in Peru arranged for medicine and Christmas toys to be provided to 550 children in an orphanage. A couple in Cambodia taught institute classes and gave leadership to a branch which, after only 10 months, grew to 180 members. A couple in Russia helped local farmers increase their yield of potatoes to 11 times that of the state farms, while a couple in the Philippines helped nearly 700 poorly nourished families learn to raise rabbits and cultivate vegetable gardens. A couple in Pennsylvania assisted 60 individuals, half of them members of other faiths, in preparing their family genealogical records. A couple in Ghana helped drill and refurbish wells, bringing water to 190,000 people in villages and refugee camps.

When Dale was 11, his father, a skilled carpenter and builder, was called to serve as a building missionary in Sweden for three years. The family spent time in Helsinki, Finland, and Gothenburg, Sweden. They attended a small branch of the Church, and the children attended Swedish public schools. Dale’s sister Anita M. Renlund, who is one year younger than her brother, recalls one of the difficulties in the transition: “This was initially a shock to us because, even though we spoke Swedish at home, we did not know the grammar or spelling of the language.”

Jensen: I guess going on a mission is something you always have in the back of your mind, but I hadn’t made the commitment as early as I should have. Then when I started having a lot of success in sports, I wondered if I couldn’t motivate people with that example instead. I remember sitting down with Coach (LaVell) Edwards. The things he said had a great influence. He said that if I was thinking about a mission I should go and that he would support my decision. I remember talking to my dad and my old high school coach and some of those people that had been an influence on me. I decided that a mission would really help me in a lot of ways.

Monday evening the family went to the chuck wagon races at the Calgary Stampede. President Benson watched with the keen eye of a lifelong horseman as the chuck wagon teams careened around the track in a cloud of dust and tangle of wagons, horses, and outriders. A constant stream of LDS Scouts who were visiting from the nearby international jamboree came to shake the Apostle’s hand, and he graciously turned away from the spectacle to greet them warmly. Afterward there was a stage show honoring Canada, and then the night became noon as fireworks blossomed in new constellations overhead. The family laughed and joked and cheered. The best part of the evening was just being together.

My grandparents have had a great influence on my life. Even though they have been dead for many years, I still feel their confirming love. One grandfather, James Akerley Faust, died before I was born. I knew him only through the stories my grandmother and my parents told about him. However, I feel a strong kinship with him because I am in part what he was. Among other things, he was a cowboy, a rancher, and a postmaster in a small town in central Utah. On one occasion Grandfather took a trip in the winter to Idaho, where he met an acquaintance who had fallen on hard times. It was cold, and Grandfather’s friend had no coat. Grandfather took off his coat and gave it to him.

Once when I talked to leaders in a foreign world where different ideologies touch their children, I asked how the parents were able to hold their children and keep them from the evil, and their reply was so natural and so proper:

“We train our children in our homes so completely in the way of right and truth that the destructive, godless philosophies and heresies of their other teachers run off without penetrating, like water on a duck’s back, and our children remain true to the faith.”

Recently I listened to a courageous sister share how she persevered through difficulties. She had some challenges, and one Sunday she was sitting in Relief Society, listening to a teacher who she thought lived a picture-perfect life—totally different from her own. She was tired and discouraged. She felt like she didn’t measure up—or even belong—so she got up and left, planning to never return to church again. Walking to her car, she felt a distinct impression: “Go into the chapel and listen to the sacrament meeting speaker.” She questioned the prompting but felt it again strongly, so she went into the meeting.
The message was exactly what she needed. She felt the Spirit. She knew the Lord wanted her to stay with Him, to be His disciple, and to attend church, so she did.
Do you know what she was grateful for? That she didn’t give up. She just kept going—with faith in Jesus Christ, even when it stretched her, and she and her family are being abundantly blessed as she presses forward.

What do you mean, “just” accepting callings? That’s a great deal. When people refuse callings or accept them reluctantly, the bishop feels like he’s still out there all alone. Even if someone does accept, the bishop still has to worry about whether he’s actually going to do the job, and in some cases his worry is fully justified. I can think of several people in our ward who are really the main support of our organizations. The priests quorum adviser, for instance—we never have to remind him what meetings he’s supposed to attend. Once he knows what they are, he is always there, and there are a lot of extra meetings involved in his calling. He’s always willing to help and go the extra mile, too (see Matt. 5:41).

A young adult, Kirsten, shared with me her painful experience. High school had been her Liberty Jail. Fortunately, the band room provided relief. She said: “When I stepped into this room, it was as if I stepped into a safe place. There were no degrading or belittling remarks, no profanity. Instead, we heard words of encouragement and love. We exercised kindness. It was a happy place. The band room was filled with the Spirit as we practiced and performed music. The room was like this in large measure because of the influence of the band instructor. He was a good Christian man. Looking back, high school was a refining place. It was difficult, but I learned resilience. I will forever be grateful for my refuge, my holy place, the band room.”8

“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.

As I sat in sacrament meeting pondering the prayer on the bread, the words kept repeating themselves in my mind: “that they may always have his Spirit to be with them” (Moroni 4:3; D&C 20:77).
“Always,” it said—not just at certain times. Why, then, several months earlier, had my husband and I not been prompted regarding how to protect our 11-year-old son before he was killed in a bicycle-automobile accident? Why would Heavenly Father not “always” watch over us and warn us?
I had been taught in Primary and believed that the Holy Ghost would protect us. He would use the still, small voice to watch over, guide, and warn us of danger. This thought had been in my mind since Ben had passed away. I missed him very much, and my heart ached for understanding and peace.
Where was my warning voice? Where was the Holy Ghost? I felt that we were doing our best to be righteous. We paid our tithing, attended our meetings, and served whenever we were asked. We were far from perfect, but we held family home evening and scripture study. We were trying.
About this time I was sitting in a Relief Society class when the teacher told a story of a close relative.
This story hit me hard, but as I sat in my chair in tears preparing to stand and leave the room, a great comfort washed over me. I felt peace that the Holy Ghost had indeed been with me. In my case He had not been there as a warning voice but as a comforter.
From the time of Ben’s accident, I had felt strength beyond my own and had been comforted by my Heavenly Father’s love. I lacked understanding at times of why certain things happen, but I had never doubted His love.
I have faith that God understands all things and will never leave me comfortless. The Holy Ghost plays many roles in our lives. He can protect us, but He also guides us, comforts us, teaches us, and provides understanding and other blessings.
I learned that Heavenly Father does keep His promises. He had “always” been with me.

And clowning when you’re sick is no joke, because it’s darn hard work. On the other hand, it may be the funnest kind of service ever invented. “We were traveling to the Special Olympics,” Ron remembers, “and I mentioned to one of the boys that it was fun doing service projects. He got a funny look on his face and said, ‘This is service, isn’t it? I’m having so much fun that I never stop to think about it.’”

As I was about to have my 12th birthday, my bishop invited me for an interview and taught me how to prepare to receive the Aaronic Priesthood and be ordained a deacon. As the interview was coming to an end, he pulled out a set of forms from his desk and challenged me to fill them out. They were mission call papers. I was astonished. After all, I was only 11. But that bishop had a vision of the future and of the blessings that would be mine if I prepared properly to serve a mission when my time came.

He showed he really cared about me. He told me the steps I should take to prepare both financially and spiritually to serve the Lord. After that day, he, and then the bishop who was called after him, interviewed me at least twice a year until I was 19 and encouraged me to remain faithful in my preparation.

They kept my missionary forms in the files and mentioned them whenever we had an interview. With my parents’ help and with the encouragement of loving and patient bishops, I served a mission. The mission helped me gain a perspective of the blessings God has in store for all who endure to the end.

Let me tell you of a man I know. I will not mention his name lest he feel embarrassed. His wife felt there was something missing in their lives. She spoke with a relative one day who was a member of the Church. The relative suggested that she call the missionaries. She did so. But the husband was rude to them and told them not to come again.

Months passed. One day another missionary, finding the record of this visit, decided that he and his companion would try again. He was a tall elder from California who carried a big smile on his face.

They knocked on the door; the man answered. Could they come in for a few minutes? they asked. He consented.

The missionary said, in effect, “I wonder if you know how to pray.” The man answered that he knew the Lord’s Prayer. The missionary said, “That is good, but let me tell you how to give a personal prayer.” He went on to explain that we get on our knees in an attitude of humility before the God of heaven. The man did so. The missionary then went on to say, “We address God as our Father in Heaven. We then thank Him for His blessings, such as our health, our friends, our food. We then ask for His blessings. We express our innermost hopes and desires. We ask Him to bless those in need. We do it all in the name of His Beloved Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, concluding with ‘amen.’”

It was a pleasant experience for the man. He had gleaned a little light and understanding, a touch of faith. He was ready to try another step.

Line upon line, the missionaries patiently taught him. He responded as his faith grew into a dim light of understanding. Friends from his branch gathered around to reassure him and answer his questions. The men played tennis with him, and he and his family were invited to their homes for dinner.

He was baptized, and that was a giant step of faith. The branch president asked him to be a Scoutmaster to four boys. That led to other responsibilities, and the light of faith strengthened in his life with each new opportunity and experience.

That has continued. Today he stands as a capable and loved stake president, a leader of great wisdom and understanding, and, above all, a man of great faith.

Then Cécile discovered the ashrams—religious retreats serving as orphanages. In each ashram there are about one hundred children, ages five through twelve. Many of these children were orphaned by disease, malnutrition, and tiger attacks. When they first arrive at the ashrams, the children are starving. Many have skin diseases and suffer from fevers, intestinal troubles, and rickets (caused by severe vitamin deficiencies). It takes most of the children three months to get used to the idea that they will still have rice to eat the next day. Currently, there are eight ashrams in Bengal, among them the Dayal Ashram (“happy house”) in Banipur, in the middle of the jungle.
“This ashram is very dear to me,” says Cécile, “because that is where I discovered the heart of Indians. I felt at home. I taught the children to play, sing, and laugh. They taught me to sleep on the floor, to eat using my hand as a spoon, to take off my shoes in houses and sacred places, and to appreciate the essential part of life—love.”
Very quickly, ties developed between Cécile and the children, who call her “Cécile Didi”—big sister Cécile. When she became ill with paratyphoid during her first stay, her little Indian friends nursed her and watched over her as if they were the big brothers and sisters. They massaged her legs and arms to relieve cramps caused by the disease.