Gospel Story Finder

“My parents taught me Christian principles, and we read from the Bible together as a family, but I resisted attending their church. I tried to fill the emptiness I felt inside with the works of great philosophers. But that emptiness wasn’t filled until my sister introduced me to the missionaries. The gospel of Jesus Christ broke down the wall I had created between myself and God. As our entire family learned about the gospel and decided to be baptized, I came to understand in my heart that I had always hidden there the solid moral and spiritual principles that my parents had taught me. When I opened my heart, I was able to appreciate what my parents had always tried to teach me.”
Corrado Campisi,Alessandria Branch,Vercelli Italy District

Later, during final exams, I found once again that I could not solve one of the problems, even though I had practiced this problem at home.
I wanted to ask Heavenly Father for help, but I remembered when I had bluntly rejected His help. Now I felt ashamed to ask. But because I couldn’t think of any other solution, I prayed for help anyway.
Once again I doubted when the prompting came; I was even more confused than I had been before. But I had promised the Lord that I would listen. So I suppressed the doubts and did exactly what the prompting said I should do.
After correcting the tests, our teacher announced our grades. She made it exciting by starting with the worst grades and working up to the best ones. When she did not call my name among the 3s—a low grade—I was pleased that I would have a 2, the best grade I had ever gotten in math. But when she didn’t call my name among the 2s, I felt quite differently. I was absolutely certain that I could not have gotten a 1, so I began to fear that I had done the very worst in the whole class.
But then my name was called among the 1s. A lump appeared in my throat when I recognized the hand of the Lord in this and knew of His love for and patience with me. When some of my classmates said, “You did great!” I could only shake my head. I succeeded only when I followed the prompting.

I met a young man in the gym, and we became friends. For the next ten months we shared our ideas and thoughts about many things, but never religion. One day I found that my friend traveled with a Bible, so I asked him if he went to church and what the name of his church was. It was some long name—The Church of Jesus Christ of something something Saints. I wasn’t the least bit interested—it sounded like just another church to me.
My friend later told me he was going to serve the Lord for two years in another country. I figured he was going to be a pastor. As he left, I began to wonder what his church was like, and I began to search for their meeting place.
I found it a few months later, but I also found something more. As I walked through the doors of the meetinghouse, I felt a feeling that is impossible to describe; it was joy, peace, comfort, surety, and happiness all in one. It was like coming home. My questions had now been answered.
The members of the church welcomed me with open arms. At first, I was reluctant to accept these welcomes because it was a little too much. I wasn’t used to so many people. They welcomed me whether they knew me or not. At the end of the meeting time, a calm feeling came over me and I heard the words in my mind, “Debbie, this is the place, and these are the people you have been searching for.”

As missionaries we have only so much spare time during our days, so I am gladly foregoing my dinner this evening to have enough time to write and thank you for the December New Era. Many times a missionary tends to feel that he is left out in right field while all the excitement and activities go on without him, even though he understands his special calling and is working to magnify it. These times often come during special family events, the changing of the seasons, and especially during the winter holidays such as Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve. With Christmas coming I found myself in such a state. When I received the December New Era and glanced through it, I felt more left out than even at first. But then I read the articles “The Spirit of Christmas” by Elder Thomas S. Monson and “Give Yourself Away” by Laurie Sowby. These special articles truly brought a great uplifting surge of enthusiasm to my spirit. It was sort of like getting into a spiritual elevator. At once all those negative feelings left, and I realized that I could really participate in the spirit of Christmas by giving myself away more and giving to people the best gift of all, the gospel of Jesus Christ. After that things really started to happen. Each day brought a special Christmas spirit. We are now helping a wonderful family to prepare for baptism as one of their Christmas presents. This has turned out to be one of the most wonderful Christmases that I have ever experienced. I’m sure that you were inspired to put those two very special articles in the December issue.
Elder Julius C. Blackwelder, IICalifornia Oakland Mission

When I reflect on my life in the military, one thing I wish were different is that I had been exposed to the gospel at that time. Some of my experiences were extremely challenging and traumatic, for example, being constantly under threat of enemy attacks and witnessing the death of fellow soldiers. The latter experience, in particular, led to a great deal of sorrow, not only for the loss of a friend but also because I believed his life had completely come to an end. Only many years later through becoming a member of the Church in 1978, did I come to know that this is not the case.
My knowledge of the plan of salvation has enabled me to view death from a different perspective. Had I this knowledge when my friend died, I believe I would have felt a greater degree of emotional comfort from the assurance that his death was not the end, that he had just moved to the next phase of his progression and, importantly, that he was at peace. There were other experiences as a soldier that having the gospel in my life would have helped me to deal with, but this is the most significant one.

A few years ago I drove to Temple Square in Salt Lake City to meet an acquaintance of the missionaries. Their guest did not keep the appointment. My response to the missionaries was, “The Lord will provide someone for us to teach.” In less than two to three minutes, two adult men walked through the front door of the North Visitors’ Center and directly up to us. They spoke Spanish, and we did not! We assured them the best we could that someone would be able to help them. In moments, the only Spanish-speaking sister missionaries in the entire mission arrived at the visitors’ center because they felt impressed to come there that morning!

Over a period of several weeks the missionary discussions were taught to those men, and they asked to be baptized. The Lord was true to His word. “An effectual door” was opened in the very moment it was needed for this beautiful experience.

I used to believe that God loved me less than He loved other people. Less than people made it sound like He loved me. And less than I thought He would if I was “better.” I wondered how a divine, perfect Father in Heaven could love someone imperfect like me.
Struggling with infertility intensified these feelings. My arms remained empty for years, and I wondered if there were no spirits in heaven who wanted me to be their mother or if there were no souls God trusted me to teach, take care of, and love. I stumbled along with little fragments of comfort and counsel that the Lord gave me as I went through dietary alterations, fertility treatments, pills, shots, and surgeries. But I still wondered if God actually loved me or if this was some sort of punishment for my misdeeds. My heart was so weary.
Amidst all of this, my marriage fell apart. The return to singles wards and dating brought even more feelings of inadequacy and shame. I thought, “Surely now God doesn’t love me. Surely now His disappointment in me has reached a peak.”
A few years later, though, I found myself in a temple preparation class with a friend who was going to be entering the temple soon. The teacher said a phrase I had heard many times before pertaining to our eternal progress but hadn’t really thought about. He said that “we are embryos of Deity” with the potential to become like our Father in Heaven. That day, those words struck me differently.
I had seen embryos already—or rather, something like them. Most expectant mothers see their baby for the first time at an ultrasound appointment around eight weeks. But when I was going through fertility treatments, I would do ultrasounds earlier in the process where I would see the follicles that were growing my potential babies.
I had never prayed so hard for something to succeed. I cheered and wept for the hope of those babies. I had visions in my head of all the experiences we could have together and all they could be. I altered my diet and sleep schedule to support them as best I could. I went through pains and scars so they could hopefully live. I loved those tiny potential beings!
They were completely reliant on me to survive. They couldn’t walk or speak. They hadn’t even developed to a baby yet. I knew full well there would be poopy diapers, temper tantrums, and disobedience. I knew they would make mistakes as they grew older and potentially even break my heart. I knew that the road of motherhood would be hard and anything but beautiful at times. But I loved them. I loved them more than anything else in my world.
As I reflected on those feelings, they all came flooding back, and I heard the Lord whisper to me, “That is how I love you.”
If I, in my imperfectness, can love a potential baby that much, how much more can a perfect Father in Heaven love me?
He loves us no matter how dependent we are on Him or how many skills we lack. He loves us, knowing that we will make mistakes and do things that may break His heart. He loves us because of who we can and will be. He loves us for the experiences we will have with Him and for the hope that we will return to Him.
In hindsight, I’ve made mistakes, but my heart was always seeking the Lord and seeking goodness. I was absolutely deserving of His love! Because the truth is, His love was never something I had to earn or be worthy of. His love was always there for me, long before the moment I took my first breath and long after I made my first mistake. His love is just as infinite and perfect as He is Himself. God loves you that much too.

Dan’s thoughts turned to a story a favorite bishop had told him, something which had happened on another Christmas Eve many years ago. His bishop had been a soldier in basic training. It had looked as though there might be no Christmas leave—had looked as though Private Benjamin Clark would have to spend Christmas far from his friends and loved ones.
And then at the last minute had come the welcome orders: Seven days’ Christmas leave, effective immediately.
It had been too late for Ben to make plane reservations—too late to catch a bus out of Monterey. It had been too late to ride home with other Church members from the camp—too late to do anything but walk to the highway and try to get a ride from passing motorists.
A truckdriver named “Red” with a load of California produce had picked up Ben and carried him east into Nevada. He had joined his baritone voice with Red’s Irish tenor, and they had sung up all the Christmas songs either of them had known.
And then in Nevada he had stood in the cold for so long, waiting for a ride north and home. There never was much traffic on that stretch of road—and on a late Christmas Eve night, well …
But at last a car, headlights shining through the dark, had appeared, had slowed, had pulled to a stop, had picked him up. Thank goodness they had been going his way and said they could take him almost all the way to his home town.
Dan recalled how the bishop had described what came next: It was not until he and his army bag were in the back seat and the car had been moving that the young soldier realized the three young men in the front seat were drunk—and getting drunker. They had offered Ben a drink from their bottle and had been offended when he declined.
The young soldier in the back seat had become alarmed. The driver had been much too drunk; the car had been going much too fast; the car radio had been much too loud. A feeling of darkness, of foreboding had filled Ben’s mind as he considered his situation.
Finally, he had said it: “Please! Stop the car! I want to get out!”
The reply had been loud laughter from the front seat. “You hang on, soldier boy, because we’re not stopping for nobody and nothing.”
For several fearful kilometers Ben had listened to the sound of the tires on the highway, the loud music on the radio, the reckless talk and the loud laughter from the front seat. He had endured the strong smell of cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey all around him.
With each kilometer, he had feared more for his life. In his fear, he had turned to prayer. “Heavenly Father, I’m in bad trouble, and I don’t see how I can get out of it. Please help me. Please protect me and preserve my life. Heavenly Father, I’m afraid, and I really need thy help. …”
Dan could recall his bishop’s very words: “And then had come a very quiet, very peaceful prompting telling me to get down on the floor of the car and put my heavy army bag over me.”
He had done so immediately. In the narrow space between the front seat and the back, Ben had hunched down, had wedged himself in tightly, had pulled the weight of the bag over onto his back. Then he had put his forehead on the floor and his hands over his head.
A few minutes later seemed like the end of the world. There had been the sound of screaming tires, the wild swerving of the car out of control—and the jolting, jarring, impact of two high-speed vehicles coming together.
Much later, the young Latter-day Saint soldier had regained consciousness. He had found himself in a black world where he could move neither arms nor legs nor head. There had seemed to be no up nor down, no left nor right, nothing to help orient him. Nothing had stirred within the dead car—except for the smells of gasoline and of vomited whiskey—of sudden death in what had been a front seat.
Perhaps an hour had passed before a big truck had pulled to a stop at the remote accident site. Two truckers had radioed the police for help, surmised that no one in either car could have survived such total destruction.
But the police had discovered otherwise. Along with the dead couple in one car and the three dead teenage boys in the other, they had found and then rescued Private Benjamin Clark.
“Young man,” one trooper had said, “you aren’t too good at picking folks to ride with, but I suspect someone is looking over you and protecting you. I hope you do something good with your life, because you owe Him one. Only God could have brought you through this night with not one scratch on your body.”

Mother says this year we’ll have
A real old-fashioned Christmas tree.
We’ll make all sorts of pretty things,
Each carefully and lovingly.
We’ll string big snowy popcorn balls;
Cranberries—bright and red.
We’ll make some sugar cookies
And men of gingerbread.
We’ll have a real live Christmas tree
Of green sweet-smelling pine.
And with its trimmings bright with love
Our tree will glow and shine.

One time I went on a first date with a girl in my ward. The next morning we were the only two who showed up for our ward’s temple trip. We offered to help with whatever ordinance needed the most patrons … which turned out to be sealings.
I was so nervous, but to my surprise, doing vicarious sealings with a girl less than 12 hours after our first date wasn’t nearly as awkward as I thought it would be. If anything, that experience gave me more perspective on how important each aspect of temple work is—including sealings (read more in my digital article).

I wish I could go back to my youth and there have another chance to reach out to those who, at the time, didn’t attract my compassionate attention. We are so vulnerable in our youth. We want to feel included, to have the feeling we matter to others. For example, in 1979 we held in St. George, Utah, our 20-year class reunion for Dixie High School. An effort was made to find current addresses and get everyone to the reunion. In the midst of all that fun, I remember the terribly painful letter written by one very bright—but in her childhood, somewhat overweight and less than popular—young woman, who wrote: “Congratulations to all of us for having survived long enough to have a 20-year class reunion. I hope everyone has a wonderful time. But don’t reserve a place for me. I have, in fact, spent most of those 20 years trying to forget the painful moments of our school days together. Now that I am nearly over those feelings of loneliness and shattered self-esteem, I cannot bring myself to see all of the class and run the risk of remembering all of that again. Have a good time and forgive me. It is my problem not yours. Maybe I can come at the 30-year mark.”

But she was terribly wrong about one thing—it was our problem, and we knew it. I have wept for her and other friends like her in our youth. We simply were not the Savior’s agents or disciples that he intended a group of young people to be. I cannot help but wonder what I might have done to watch out a little more for the ones not included, to make sure the gesture of a friendly word or a listening ear or a little casual talk and shared time might have reached far enough to include those hanging on the outer edge of the social circle, and in some cases barely hanging on at all.

Situation #1: At sacrament meeting, you see a missionary who has returned home early from his or her mission.
A: “What are you doing here? You just barely left. Did you have to come home?”
B: “I’m so glad to see you. Tell me about [the place you served].”
The best response is “B.”

Rebekah, the daughter of my first mission president, shared how the Lord answered her prayer for comfort with an unexpected opportunity to answer someone else’s prayer.
Late one evening, Rebekah, grieving her mother’s recent passing, had a clear impression to go buy gas for her car. When she arrived at the station, she met an elderly woman struggling to breathe with a large oxygen tank. Later, Rebekah was able to give the woman her mother’s portable oxygen machine. This sister gratefully said, “You’ve given me back my freedom.” Things work together for good when we minister as Jesus Christ would.

The second miracle came through family history. In the years after his baptism, senior missionary couples, Elder and Sister Clark, and later, Elder and Sister Gamble helped Ray to discover his family history.
Elder Scott Gamble helped Ray identify his father through the BillionGraves cemetery index.
“Ray is legendary with the young missionaries in Alice Springs,” says Sister Diane Gamble. “They all know and love him. He loves to share life stories about how his grandmother taught him to knit when he was nine years old, how his daughter in the Philippines asked him to bring her a kangaroo, and about how he knitted a jumper for Johnny Cash, the famous western singer.”

Flick He was trapped in the railroad tracks, two of his legs mangled, when Jack found him. The stationmaster brought a gun to put Flick out of his misery, but the gun didn’t fire. Then Flick’s tail waved slightly. … Lynn Floyd Wright8–11 years

I learned important lessons about life through playing sports, whether I was shooting hoops with a friend or playing on basketball and football teams. One of the lessons I learned was how to make decisions. For example, I grew up loving to play basketball more than football and played college basketball for two years. When I was given the opportunity to participate in college football, I knew I had to commit to one or the other, and I had questions about what I should do.
My parents taught me that when I needed to make a big decision in my life, I should get out a piece of paper and a pencil, draw a line down the middle of the paper, and then write down the pros on one side and the cons on the other. After that, I was taught to call upon Heavenly Father to help inspire my thoughts. I learned to keep writing the pluses and minuses on both sides of the paper about the decision I was making, and to take my time. I found that as I did this with patience, it was amazing to see how the Lord revealed thoughts that were not originally there to help me with the process. Finally, when I made my decision, I went to the Lord again in prayer and took time to just listen, so I could sense if He agreed with my decision.
We don’t always understand what the Lord is revealing at the time that He’s giving us inspired thoughts. If you had asked me before I sought heaven’s help about my decision, and I had been told to stop playing basketball and to start playing college football, I would have thought, “Are you crazy? Why would I do that?” But that was the prompting the Lord gave me. Even though I didn’t know why, I knew by the confirming feeling in my heart that I was doing what the Lord wanted me to do. I had gone through a process that allowed me to have confidence in my choice. That knowledge helped me through some rough times.

After I had discussed business matters with some men the other day, the conversation took on a more personal, informal note when one man said: “I have the most wonderful wife in the world.” Another said: “That’s what you think. I think I have the best.” A third man said: “Isn’t it a great blessing to have a wife you love, who loves you, one who is a good mother and homemaker, with high ideals, who believes in God and wants to help her family accept and live the teachings of the gospel of Jesus Christ?”

I grew up in the Church in a loving home. Yet as I entered my teenage years, I started to drift away from the gospel. I still went to church nearly every Sunday. I believed what was being taught, but I just wasn’t committed enough to live the gospel.

When my older brother came home from his mission, he could see that I wasn’t going in the direction I should be. He came into my room one night and tried to talk with me. But I really wasn’t that interested. Finally he said, “All of the answers to all of your problems are in this book,” and he put a Book of Mormon on my bed. Then he left. After a few minutes, I said to myself in a mocking voice, “All of the answers to all of your problems are in this book.”

“OK,” I thought, “let’s see.”

I opened the Book of Mormon and the first verse I saw was Alma 29:13, which says, “Yea, and that same God did establish his church among them; yea, and that same God hath called me by a holy calling, to preach the word unto this people, and hath given me much success, in the which my joy is full.” I felt similar to Joseph Smith when he said, “Never did any passage of scripture come with more power to the heart of man than this did at this time to mine” (Joseph Smith—History 1:12).

The Spirit was very strong, and I knew that I had been directed by the Lord. I immediately looked for a red pencil, fearing that I might lose this scripture and never find it again. I reviewed it again, trying to understand what it meant for me. I came to understand that I should go on a mission, that I would be successful, and that I would be happy doing it.

Fearing perhaps that I might change my mind or doubt the prompting, I jumped in my car and went to my dad’s pizza shop to ask for his support, which he immediately gave. I then went to my bishop’s house and asked him what I had to do to go on a mission. Before long, I received a call to serve in the Philippines Manila Mission. As it turned out, I was happy and successful.

Since that time, my life has never been the same. I’m not sure where I would be or what I would be doing if my brother hadn’t come into my room that night, but I’m sure my life was going in the wrong direction. The Book of Mormon really did save my life. I know that the Lord is aware of us and wants to help us if we will put forth effort and show we are interested in Him.

Milton Soares Jr. and his wife, Irene, are gracious hosts for visitors to the house they built in Recife. They have spent much of their lives in building—building a family and building up the Church, which began here with them.
They still have the first LDS pamphlet they received, the story of Joseph Smith, with a hand-drawn missionary diagram on the inside showing a church built on the foundation of Apostles. Another well-used Church book bears a message that the missionaries who taught Milton inscribed to him as the first person baptized in Recife in this dispensation. The date was 15 May 1960. His wife and children of baptismal age followed him into the Church three weeks later.
Irene Soares was skeptical when her husband first began investigating the gospel, but knowing him to be a good man, she thought that if he could accept it, it must be right. She received her own strong witness of the truth when President Joseph Fielding Smith of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles visited Recife with Elder A. Theodore Tuttle of the Seventy. “I felt in my heart the knowledge that all we had been learning was true and that [President Smith] was a prophet,” she recalls.
In the beginning, when both of their families questioned why they would join this unknown church, Milton and Irene had only their faith to cling to. His family’s feelings toward the Church softened over time. The feelings of her parents and siblings did not, but she could not give up the truths she had found.
Irene laughs when she remembers that “after just one week in the Church, I was considered an old-time member.” She felt a responsibility to meet and fellowship everyone. Her first sacrifice for the Church was to make cloths for the sacrament table. When their small branch moved to a different meetinghouse, Milton built the baptismal font and Irene found herself rounding up baptismal clothes.
Like many other Brazilians who joined the Church when it was just getting started in their area, they planted the seeds of gospel growth for their family. And as in many other Brazilian families, their example has borne fruit in succeeding generations. Their eldest son, Irajá, is just one example. After his baptism as a teenager, he quickly learned to enjoy working with the missionaries. In 1966 he became the first Brazilian elder called on a full-time foreign mission (he served in Chile). Today he serves as an Area Authority Seventy.

I had no idea how to find the Church in Thailand once I arrived. The internet was not yet developed, so I couldn’t look up the location of buildings. We arrived at the Bangkok airport on a Saturday afternoon. In the bus, I prayed sincerely, “Heavenly Father, tomorrow is Sunday. Please help me find the Church.”
I finished my prayer and looked outside. To my surprise, I saw a sign for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Thai and in English.
The following morning, I took an auto rickshaw to that building. Afterward, the members there gave me the address of a home closer to my rural work site where branch meetings were held. They also gave me the phone number of the full-time missionaries. The following Sunday, I attended that branch.