Gospel Story Finder

Nearly 12 years ago, young friends Richard Moore, Mark Sandridge, and Graham McBride of the Memphis (Tennessee) Second Ward dressed in white as they prepared to make sacred covenants. The three boys were baptized by their fathers in the same baptismal service.
Last year, the three friends again dressed in white to make covenants, this time in the same endowment session of the St. Louis Missouri Temple. Their fathers were once again by their sides, and the session was officiated by Graham’s grandfather, a temple worker.
Although these three young men live many miles from each other now, they continue to dress in white as they baptize others while serving in the California Ventura, Japan Nagoya, and Honduras Tegucigalpa Missions.

First, some background. During the dedication of the Mexico City Temple, I had one of those singular experiences that readjusts the course of a life. It occurred during the eighth dedicatory session, where many of the men and women leaders of Mexico and Central America were present. When unexpectedly asked to speak, I attempted to convey the strong impressions that poured into my heart. I spoke of those beyond the veil who, in fulfillment of prophecy, had served, suffered, and given greatly to form the foundation which permitted the opening of a new era of the work.
I expressed a feeling to plead in behalf of former prophets who had prepared and protected the sacred records of the Book of Mormon. I sensed that they were saddened as they see us walk from place to place with an unopened Book of Mormon under our arm or see it kept in homes where it gathers dust and is not read, pondered, nor its contents applied.
The Book of Mormon was prepared by divine assignment for the blessing and enlightenment of all those who receive it.
As I spoke, I realized in my heart that all the efforts that I had expended for six years in trying to help those beloved leaders overcome the effects of false traditions and learn to apply the teachings of the Lord would have been better directed had I strongly encouraged them to ponder and apply the teachings of the Book of Mormon. The Book of Mormon contains messages that were divinely placed there to show how to correct the influence of false tradition and how to receive a fulness of life. It teaches how to resolve the problems and challenges that we face today that were foreseen by the Lord. In that book he has provided the way to correct the serious errors of life, but this guidance is of no value if it remains locked in a closed book.
I witnessed that it is not sufficient that we should treasure the Book of Mormon, nor that we testify that it is of God. We must know its truths, incorporate them into our lives, and share them with others. I felt an overwhelming love for the people and an urgent desire that all would comprehend the value of the Book of Mormon.
At the conclusion of the meeting, Ezra Taft Benson, then President of the Quorum of the Twelve, invited me to join him in a private room in the temple. He asked me to be seated, drew his chair close to mine, looked penetratingly into my eyes, and with an earnestness that I will never forget, witnessed of his profound conviction that every member of the Church must learn to use the Book of Mormon as the Lord intended.
As he spoke I knew that the Lord had inspired him to have those feelings. I had a witness borne to my heart that he was speaking the will of the Lord.
The influence of these two friends, President Benson and the Book of Mormon, has comforted and sustained me in times of intense need. I would share them with you in your hour of need.

“Lindsay, what’s going to happen to me?” I asked my sister, as my frail body lay limp in the emergency room bed.
Lindsay replied through her tears, “I’m not sure, but I think it’s time for you to trust in Heavenly Father.”
I sat back in my bed while I rested in a state of confusion, worry, and mostly panic. I had finally reached the breaking point.
After five long, difficult years of self-worth issues and depression, anorexia had a firm grip on my whole soul. My worn-out spirit had long given in to destructive thoughts and lost hopes, but it had only been in the past year that my body had succumbed to anorexia’s deadly effects as well.
My weight was perilously low and continuing to drop. Astoundingly, I still felt I was “chubby.” It was only when I couldn’t keep any food down or stand up without losing consciousness that my concerned friends rushed me to the hospital. Within the next few days, my secret had blown up in my face, and my family insisted that I receive treatment.
At first I did not understand the seriousness of the problem. I had to trust in the love and counsel of others. I couldn’t see it in myself because I had years of practice brushing off the worries and advice of others who thought I was losing too much weight. As with many other people suffering from eating disorders, I wasn’t willing to see my problem until I was forced to by medical professionals.
I would love to say that once I confronted my problem every day was easier and that all I had to do was eat. However, it was quite the contrary. Every week was filled with doctor appointments, planning meals with a nutritionist, group and individual therapy, and weekly appointments with my bishop. I needed to set aside a time to eat every day, and I learned that I needed to always be accountable to another person for what I ate. I needed to gain the trust of others again, and they needed to gain my trust so I did not feel invaded and constantly questioned about my eating habits.
My biggest problem was that, although I felt the support of many people around me, I thought I had to fight the battle alone.
“What do you want me to do?” I shouted at my therapist. “It’s like you want me to be perfect or something! I can’t do this! I can’t just sit here and tell you why I feel like I’m fat, or why I hate myself. I don’t know why. All I know is that I just can’t do this anymore! It’s not worth it because no matter what I say or do, it’ll never be good enough to fix all of this. I’m just … broken!”
My therapist let me cry it out before she said, “You’re right. You can’t do this on your own, and no matter what you do, it won’t be good enough. You’re never going to be perfect …”
She paused to let her final thought sink in and went on to say, “… on your own. The Savior has already won this battle. Hand it over to Him, and He’ll heal you. Just hand it over, Katie.”
The words pierced my broken heart, and the Spirit filled me and testified that what she had said was absolutely true. My healing process had begun.
Some days were harder than others. On those days, I felt a deeper desire to seek the Lord’s help and to plead with Him to rid me of this terrible disorder. I knew He could do it, but I also knew I needed to trust in Him first.
I began to write all my feelings in a small journal that I kept with me throughout the day. The beginning entries contained words like insignificance, intimidation, and frustration. Once the day was through, I would put my book down in front of me, tear out the pages, and pray for those feelings to be recognized and changed. Then I’d throw the pages away and make a new entry of what I felt. Those new entries had words like hope, strength, and love. I had begun to literally and figuratively place my trial and those detrimental feelings at the Savior’s feet. That’s when the pain began to subside.
As the days became weeks and the weeks became months, I began to feel the companionship of the Spirit. I learned how to distinguish between revelations from the Lord and the harsh feelings and thoughts of the world. I felt unity within my family as we pulled together to strengthen not only me but one another. Yet, most of all, I developed my friendship, my very best friendship, with my Savior. The calming influence of the Atonement was, and is still, taking place in my life. Although this experience continues to influence my life and will continue for years to come, I now see myself not only for who I am but mostly for who I will become. I know now that this is how our Father in Heaven sees us, and what a sight that is!

Following a weekend of cultural celebration and two Sunday sessions of rededication by President Thomas S. Monson, the Atlanta Georgia Temple opened its doors on May 3, 2011, for formal temple work to resume. In addition to President Monson, Elder M. Russell Ballard of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and Elders Walter F. González and William R. Walker, both of the Seventy, attended the rededication.
The temple, originally dedicated in 1983, closed on June 1, 2009, for extensive renovations.

Sister Joanne B. Doxey, second counselor: Let me give you an example. Having worked in the Primary for many years before my present calling, I can see advantages in assigning a Primary teacher as visiting teacher in a home where there are inactive children. As she visits in the home each month, she could establish a rapport that could strengthen the entire family—the children, as well as the mother.

“When I met Kenlon Clark I thought he was one of the cooler guys at my school. He was just a nice guy. We started doing things together, and he invited me to Church activities. The people at the church were really nice, and I had a good feeling about being there. Kenlon would tell me stuff about the Book of Mormon. He asked if I wanted one. I asked how much it cost, and he said it was free. I could just take one. I thought that was a pretty good deal.”
If you’ve been a member of the Church for very long, you’ve probably already guessed how this one turns out. If you figured that Bryce was impressed with the example of the members of the St. Paul Branch, especially Kenlon and his family, you’re right. And if you guessed that Bryce read the Book of Mormon, listened to the missionary discussions, and joined the Church, you’re right again. But if you think this story is predictable, you’re wrong. It’s anything but predictable.

Young Joseph Smith was disciplined with a four-year probation before obtaining the golden plates, “because you have not kept the commandments of the Lord.” Later, when Joseph lost the 116 manuscript pages, he was disciplined again. Though Joseph was truly remorseful, the Lord still withdrew his privileges for a short season because “whom I love I also chasten that their sins may be forgiven” (D&C 95:1).

Joseph said, “The angel was rejoiced when he gave me back the Urim and Thummim and said that God was pleased with my faithfulness and humility, and loved me for my penitence and diligence in prayer.” Because the Lord wanted to teach Joseph a heart-changing lesson, He required a heartrending sacrifice of him—sacrifice being an essential part of discipline.

Faith Nwaulu came back from her mission looking forward to a good life. She knew what she wanted, to be trained as a midwife. The only constraint that she had to achieve her dreams was funds required to take the training. When she participated in the returned missionary orientation program, she learned about the PEF loan and knew that was the resource to help her achieve her dreams. She applied for and received the loan to attend St. Philomena Hospital to be trained as a midwife. She has now graduated and is employed in the same hospital where she received her training. She is also happily married.

A group from the Wandsworth England Stake, including many teens, spent four hours racing low tide on a 300-yard stretch of beach to collect four-and-a-half tons of debris from the Thames River. “Voluntary assistance such as this makes a real difference,” said Captain Peter Steen of the Port of London Authority.

Illustration by Greg Newbold
After my classes finished in the late afternoon, I stopped by a tiny antique store just before I made my way home—an errand I wanted to finish despite the increased intensity of the rain. I was the only person in the store, and the woman working there helped me with the lamp I’d had my eye on.
As she opened a shopping bag, I noticed a display of brightly colored bracelets on the counter. I reached for one just as she placed the lamp into the bag. She brushed the display, and about half the bracelets clattered to the floor. She looked a little flustered but finished ringing up my purchase. I left the store, umbrella in one hand, bag with a lamp in it in the other.
I walked home, took off my wet boots, and put on some music. As I took the lamp out, I noticed something at the bottom of the bag. It was a red bracelet. It must have fallen from the display into my bag. I smiled, thinking how much this moment was beginning to resemble a story from the old Young Women manual: “Then Valerie thought of the lesson they’d just had in Laurels class.”
I tossed the bracelet on my bed and plugged in my lamp. It created a warm glow in the gray afternoon. I looked out the window. It was raining even harder, and the snow on the ground was turning to dirty slush.
I looked at the bracelet. It was cherry red. I slipped it on my wrist. The price tag swung—$20. Of course I would return it. It never entered my mind not to. I pulled it off and put it on top of a pile of books I’d been meaning to put away. I walked into the other room to make a cup of hot chocolate.
Then I walked back in.
How long had I put off dealing with those books anyway? A while. How long would that bracelet be there if I put off taking it back?
My intention was to return it. But when would that be? Would I wait so long that I would feel awkward returning it? Would I forget about it?
I hesitated a little more. I looked out the window again. I thought about how my feet had just warmed up. I thought about my delicious hot chocolate.
Then I grabbed the bracelet, pulled my boots back on, and headed back out.
When I arrived at the store, the woman was helping someone else. I stood and waited. When she finished, I pulled the bracelet out of my coat pocket, explaining how it had come to be there. She looked sort of surprised, a little confused, said thank you, and that was it. She didn’t offer me a reward for my honesty. She wasn’t excessive in her thanks. And no one else was around to see it.
As I walked home, I thought about how I’d always considered myself an honest person. It is a quality I value and look for in others. But real honesty, like real love and real charity, is an active attribute. However honorable and true my intentions, I only became an honest person when I put those rain boots back on and acted on my intentions.
I felt my bare wrist inside my coat and smiled a little.

One Sunday, there were soldiers everywhere, and my parents said it was going to be difficult to go to church. I told my parents that we should attend at least sacrament meeting. Together we showed faith and went to church to honor the day of the Lord.
Prodi K., age 7, Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of the Congo

When I was a college freshman, I found myself flustered and frustrated as I tried to get through my first semester. It was very difficult to fit everything into my busy schedule, which included a full load of classes, a very time-consuming Church calling, and the everyday adjustments of living on my own for the first time. As December arrived, I became overwhelmed with everything. With the pressure of finals and a lack of time and money, I didn’t feel the Christmas spirit at all.
I went home a week before Christmas, wondering what to do for gifts. I had been assigned to buy a present for my younger sister Rachel and didn’t know what to get her, until my friend showed me a very plain little stuffed bear her mother had made for her and the touching poem she’d written to go along with it.
On Christmas Eve, I found myself working frantically to finish a bear. My mom came to my room, sat down with me, and helped me get it done for Christmas morning.
As Rachel tore the paper from the package and peered inside, a huge smile spread across her face. There were tears in everyone’s eyes as the family realized what a special gift it was. In its seams, and in the poem attached, was the real meaning of Christmas. There was love in that simple bear.
—Lisa McKinstryRexburg, Idaho

Growing up, I believed in the gospel of Jesus Christ with all my heart, and I did everything I could to live righteously. And I wanted and expected my family to live righteously as well. The knowledge of the gospel gave me more joy than anything else in my life, especially knowing that I could be with my family for eternity.
So you can imagine how confused and hurt I was when my older brother started growing more and more distant from the gospel and also from my family and me. Ultimately, he left the Church altogether.
For a while, it felt like my world had exploded. I had so many questions:
How could he leave?
How could he not want all the blessings that living the gospel brings?
Doesn’t he want to be with our family forever?
At the beginning, I was angry with my brother. When I would hear my friends talk about how protective their older brothers were and how close their family was, I would feel devastated that my brother and I hadn’t talked for a long time. My dream of being together with my entire family in heaven seemed to be slipping away.
I would often look at the seemingly “perfect” families at church and feel like my family was doing something wrong. If we were righteous enough, wouldn’t my brother come back to the Church? But no matter what we did, my brother still wouldn’t come back.
I prayed to Heavenly Father about my brother all the time. I felt so angry and hurt. I would ask things like, “Why is this happening?” “Can’t you help him know the truth?” “Please change something!”
I did this for a while, and nothing changed. I didn’t understand why God wasn’t doing anything. But then, one day, something finally clicked. I realized there was something I could do.
I could love.
Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught:
“When you truly desire to bless and lift up those around you—then the power of the pure love of Christ can work in your heart and life.
“As you become fluent in [the language of the love of Christ] and use it in your interactions with others, they will recognize something in you that may awaken in them a long-hidden feeling to search for the right way on the journey back to their heavenly home. After all, the language of love is their true native language too.”1
Things started to change when I showed my brother my love for him instead of trying to change him. I started to pray for him out of love rather than anger. I could see that his heart was beginning to soften—not necessarily toward the gospel, but toward my family and me. And I realized that my heart needed to soften toward him too (see Mosiah 5:7). I began to see his goodness again, and I started to accept and respect his decisions, even though they were different from mine. I know those changes to my heart and mind could have only been made through the healing power of Jesus Christ.
Heavenly Father really does answer our prayers for others, even if it is not always in the way we expect him to. But just as Heavenly Father heard Alma the Elder’s prayers for his son, He hears our prayers for those we love (see Mosiah 27:14). And even though we might have to have a lot of patience and hope, our continuous prayers and faith for others really do have a mighty influence on them—and us. Much more than we might ever know.
My brother hasn’t come back to the Church, and I don’t think he plans to anytime soon. But I’ve learned that he has his own agency and that even if he chooses differently than I do, I can love and respect him anyway. We have a better relationship than we’ve had in years because of the love we show each other. I don’t always agree with his choices or his opinions, but by doing my best to understand him better, I’ve been able to get a glimpse of just how much Heavenly Father loves and knows each of His children.
The key to keeping families together and reaching each other’s hearts isn’t condemning each other’s choices; ultimately it’s love—the pure love of Christ. I can never force my brother to return to the gospel, but I can love him and help him know that he is always welcome.
I still pray and fast for my brother, and yet I’ve realized that his choices are his own. Our journey back to Heavenly Father is an individual one between each of us and Him. But we can turn to Heavenly Father and the Savior for help in supporting one another on our individual journeys and loving one another all the same.
I don’t know what will happen in the end when it comes to my eternal family, and sometimes I feel a little heartbroken when I think about it. But I take comfort in the words of President Dallin H. Oaks, First Counselor in the First Presidency:
“Trust in the Lord. …
“[This] applies to unanswered questions about sealings in the next life or desired readjustments because of events or transgressions in mortality. There is so much we do not know that our only sure reliance is to trust in the Lord and His love for His children.”2
And that’s what I choose to do—to trust in the Lord and to share His love—no matter what.

“Recently a missionary asked me, ‘Are we hypocrites if we don’t keep all the commandments that we teach to the people?’ This is such a great question! I thought I would share my answer here. I know that I don’t have to be perfect to be called to be a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. I know better than anybody that I’m not perfect. So do we have to be perfect to serve the Lord? Of course not. It isn’t about that.
“There’s a big difference between rebellion and weakness. So it is hypocritical to teach a commandment that you don’t intend to keep. That would be hypocritical. But to teach commandments and then stumble and repent—that’s not hypocritical, because you are intending to keep the commandment. When we do things with real intent, it means that we intend to keep the commandments. So there isn’t anything that’s hypocritical about teaching about the covenant path or about teaching about God’s commandments when you in fact intend to keep all of them. You know and can testify that keeping those commandments will bring blessings.
“In the Book of Mormon, Moroni 6:8 says, ‘But as oft as they repented and sought forgiveness, with real intent, they were forgiven.’ The hypocritical part comes if we make a mistake and don’t repent and don’t intend to repent. Integrity is that our actions and our beliefs are in complete harmony—it is how we try to live our lives. But is it hypocritical if we can’t always do that? No, that’s the whole point of repentance, isn’t it? We can repent from those things that despite our good efforts we fail to do. Because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, forgiveness is real.”
Elder Dale G. Renlund, Facebook, Feb. 15, 2022, facebook.com/DaleGRenlund.

As our sons were growing up, our family did what you have done and what you now do. We had regular family prayer, scripture study, and family home evening. Now, I am sure what I am about to describe has never occurred in your home, but it did in ours.

Sometimes Sister Bednar and I wondered if our efforts to do these spiritually essential things were worthwhile. Now and then verses of scripture were read amid outbursts such as “He’s touching me!” “Make him stop looking at me!” “Mom, he’s breathing my air!” Sincere prayers occasionally were interrupted with giggling and poking. And with active, rambunctious boys, family home evening lessons did not always produce high levels of edification. At times Sister Bednar and I were exasperated because the righteous habits we worked so hard to foster did not seem to yield immediately the spiritual results we wanted and expected.

Today if you could ask our adult sons what they remember about family prayer, scripture study, and family home evening, I believe I know how they would answer. They likely would not identify a particular prayer or a specific instance of scripture study or an especially meaningful family home evening lesson as the defining moment in their spiritual development. What they would say they remember is that as a family we were consistent.

Sister Bednar and I thought helping our sons understand the content of a particular lesson or a specific scripture was the ultimate outcome. But such a result does not occur each time we study or pray or learn together. The consistency of our intent and work was perhaps the greatest lesson—a lesson we did not fully appreciate at the time.

The End of the Beginning: Being the Adventures of a Small Snail (and an Even Smaller Ant), by Avi. Join the adventure as Avon the snail and Edward the ant set out to find a happy life. Along the way they meet new friends (a caterpillar, a cricket, and a salamander, to name a few), and discover things about the world as well as themselves.

Mother Lucy later shared her experiences with a neighbor, Sally Bradford Parker, who wrote: “I asked her if she saw the plates. She said no, it was not for her to see them, but she hefted and handled them and I believed all she said for I lived by her eight months and she was one of the best of women.”5 Though she never saw the plates uncovered, Lucy was certain of their authenticity and the validity of their translation. She remembered being visited by a deacon from one of the local churches who asked to see the plates. When she refused to produce the record, he asked her to stop talking to others about it. Lucy replied, “If you should … burn me at the stake, I would declare that Joseph has got that record.”6

Stakes and districts all over the country organized various activities in cooperation with partner organizations in the community. In Metro Manila, a #BFF Covenant Path Family Adventure culminating event was held at the Mall of Asia concert grounds on September 30.
Thousands of members from 30 stakes in Metro Manila and surrounding areas enjoyed gospel-themed games and fun activities. Eric “Eruption Tai who hosted the program with his wife Rona shared, “It’s always so gratifying to be part of the Family Week projects of the Church because I get to celebrate the two thing that inspire me and give my life meaning: my faith and my family.”

Converts who met Joseph for the first time also expressed admiration. Five days after arriving in Nauvoo from England, William Clayton wrote home: “Last night many of us [were] in company with Brother Joseph, our hearts rejoiced to hear him speak of the things of the Kingdom, he is an affectionate man and as familiar as any of us. We feel to love him much and so will you.”2

As soon as Dad came home, I asked him, “How can wishes come true?”
“I can’t tell you,” he answered, “but I wish my good suit was cleaned and pressed. I need it tomorrow.” Looking at Mom’s note saying that she would be late, he started picking up the living room. “Hmmm … it needs the full treatment,” he said. He wheeled out the vacuum cleaner.
When Mom came home, she looked around with pleasure at the clean, inviting living room. And the next morning Dad was happy to find his freshly pressed suit in his closet.