Gospel Story Finder

Recently I heard of a far-sighted home teacher in an elders quorum who was given the name of an inactive member. On his way to priesthood meeting early one Sunday morning, he called at the home of this member.

“I’m on my way to priesthood meeting and thought you might like a ride.”

This man, startled and somewhat angry at this early Sunday morning disruption of his sleep, said, “No. I’m not interested,” and slammed the door. He wondered how the Church got his name.

The following Sunday morning again the doorbell rang. The member opened the door and saw this same individual, bright and smiling, on his way to priesthood.

“Just dropped by in case you had changed your mind. We would like you to join us.”

He got an unfriendly reply of, “Go away! Leave me alone!” and slammed the door shut.

A week later the events were repeated. The home teacher added, “We have a great group of men. We need you. You’re a member of our quorum. Would you mind if I stop by next Sunday?” This man, who wanted to get lost from activity, decided the only way to stop his early-morning caller was to go to the meeting and prove he was not interested.

The next Sunday when the home teacher rang the doorbell, he was not greeted with a “Go away! Leave me alone!” but with a man dressed and ready to prove his disinterest. But the spirit of the priesthood meeting, the friendly handclasps, the sincere interest changed his attitude and awakened the conscience of a man who needed a gentle push.

Over the past year my best friend has been struggling with leukemia. He had to stay in the hospital for many months and had to undergo chemotherapy. I have prayed for him every night and have been able to see him make progress. Throughout this difficult time, I have grown to know that Heavenly Father is there for us, and He loves all his children. I know that He wants us all to return to live with Him someday and that He wants us all to be happy.
When I think about my friend’s illness too much, I start to worry about the future. But when I think of Heavenly Father’s love for all of us, the pain goes away. I have come to know that I can always turn to Heavenly Father in prayer and that He will be there.
When my friend had a relapse and his cancer returned, I wondered if all of our faith and prayers were in vain. But I soon turned to the Lord for comfort and realized that no matter what happens, Heavenly Father loves my friend and will look after him. I just have to have faith in His plan.

Patrick’s older brother, Tom, returned from the California Ventura Mission in August 2009. He feels that Preach My Gospel is one of the best tools for missionary work. Although Tom appreciated what the book helped him do as a missionary, he notes that nearly all of the prophetic statements on missionary work appearing on pages 12–13 of Preach My Gospel talk about the role of members in sharing the gospel. He says that’s indicative of how much missionary work should be done by members and not just by full-time missionaries.
“As I was closing in on the end of my mission,” he recalls, “I was studying about the responsibilities of missionaries and why we—missionaries and members—are given this work to do. I read Moses 1:39 and thought about missionary work from Heavenly Father’s point of view. All He wants is for His children to return to Him. What we’ve been charged with doing, I realized, is helping our Father accomplish His work.
“Now as a member missionary, I know that with regular scripture study (including study of Preach My Gospel), prayer, and seeking the Spirit, we can succeed in any endeavor. And if we let the gospel be at the center of our lives and work to better our understanding of it, it will become easier to share and testify.”

I was accepted at BYU Provo when I was already 27 years old. I had been out of school for several years. When my first semester ended and I got my grades, I was afraid to arrive home and show them to my wife. My grades were terrible. I started preparing a mental plan in my own defense. I thought to myself: I will show my wife my grades, she will not be pleased, then I will tell her that this school is too hard, that I am not prepared for college and that we'd better go back to Brazil. And as I walked home carrying my grades (just like a child goes back home to show mom his grades) I started rehearsing in my mind what I was going to say to my wife. When my wife saw my grades, first she agreed that they were really bad. Then I immediately started telling her my feelings of inadequacy, and my desire to interrupt school and go back home. Then she said, "Carlos, we have come all the way from Brazil over here for you to graduate from this university, and we're not going back home until you graduate. I don't care if you need to take a particular class 2 or 3 times, but we will not go back home until you have graduated!"

After hearing those words from my wife I thought, well, I have no way out. I'd better stay in school. So dear brothers and sisters, the fact that I am here this morning sharing my testimony with you is thanks to my dear wife who at a very crucial moment of decision, gave me the help and support I needed.

Janetta pulled the quilt close around her shoulders and shuddered. Even with its comfort and the warmth from the fire, she felt cold.
“Janna!” her little brother wailed from the lean-to. “I had a bad dream!”
“Come here,” she called softly, holding out her arms. He climbed onto her lap and snuggled down to sleep again. Soon the warmth from his small body flowed into hers and they were both warm.
James whimpered in his sleep, and she rocked him gently. His nightmares had begun this last year. It had been a year especially full of things that could disturb a three year old.
She looked away from their fire across the mighty Mississippi to Nauvoo, where she could see the distant flicker of fires that surrounded the temple where men were still working.
“Janetta,” her mother said now, interrupting her thoughts, “I’m home. Let me take James and put him back to bed. You must be exhausted. Go to sleep.”
Janetta smiled at her mother. Here they were, camped on the bank of the river, with no roof over their heads, and yet her mother called it home. “Did Sister Brown have her baby?”
“Yes, a fine boy,” Mother answered happily. She warmed her hands by the fire. “I think he’ll be all right, even if he was born in the middle of the wide open spaces.” She turned to her daughter. “Go get some rest. We’ll be leaving early in the morning.”
“I can’t sleep,” Janetta answered sadly. “I keep thinking about our old home. I wonder who’s sleeping all warm and cozy in my bed.”
“I loved that house, too,” her mother answered softly. “Your father built it carefully to shelter us and make us happy. But we’ll be better off far away from the mobs, where we can be safe.”
Janetta continued to stare into the dying flames of the fire. Sleep and comfort seemed far-off.
Her mother rummaged around in their bags for their treasured copy of the Book of Mormon. She began softly to read aloud. At first Janetta only listened to her voice, not to the words. Then the words began to sink in. They told of Lehi and his family, who had left all their worldly goods in Jerusalem and fled into the wilderness.
Mother stopped reading. “It seems we’re in good company,” she said and smiled at her daughter. “We’re not the only ones of the Lord’s people who have had to leave their homes.”
Janetta smiled back, feeling the comfort she needed. Together they left the fire and went to their beds. She said her prayers and snuggled into the bed. She knew that the Saints were doing the will of God. She’d had that witness that they were being led by a prophet. It brought her peace.

Of his experience as a husband and father, Brother Nelson says that the greatest satisfaction any of us can have is to know that we’re doing what the Lord wants us to do. In that connection, he learned an interesting lesson when, on a rafting trip in the Grand Canyon, he and his daughter Gloria were thrown from the raft as it plunged over a large rapid.
“It was a terrifying experience,” he reflects, “but it taught me to ‘cling to the iron rod.’ As we went over that rapid, I tried to cling to my daughter, fearful for her survival. But as we took more difficult rapids later, I learned to hang on to the ropes tightly and have my daughter hang on to me. The same principle applies in gospel living. If a man will cling to the word of God and be obedient so that his family can rely on him, the whole family will be safe.”

From the time I was eight years old until I was fifteen, my parents owned and operated a flower shop. It was a family business, and everyone in the family—my parents; my older sister, Pat; my younger brother, Steve; and I—helped in either the shop or the greenhouse. We all helped in delivering the orders.
During the spring, I transplanted flowers in the greenhouse after school and on Saturdays. Another of my responsibilities was to water all the flowers and green potted plants in the large showroom. My father also worked for the railroad, so while he was gone during the day, my mother operated the shop. Holidays were very busy times in the shop. We often worked long into the night, getting orders ready.
Every summer my parents closed the flower shop for two weeks so that we could go on a family vacation. We often went to Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming. One year we visited a redwood forest in northern California.
When I was about twelve, my parents planned the most exciting trip of all! My father ordered a new car from Detroit, then scheduled his vacation for the following summer, when it would be ready. Our plan was to take the train to Detroit, pick up the car, drive east to New York City and Washington, D.C., and then drive home. We were all very excited that whole year as we planned the trip. By the time school was out for summer vacation, we could not think or talk about anything else.
One day, about two weeks before we were to leave, Dad came home from work with a worried look on his face, and I knew that something was bothering him. He told us that some unexpected things had come up at his office. He would not be able to leave, and we could not take the vacation we had planned. It was hard to believe what we were hearing, and the disappointment was almost more than we could bear. Dad said that Mother, my older sister, and my aunt would take the train to Detroit and pick up the car. I would have to stay home to take care of Steve, who was eight.
At first I felt it was unfair that I should be the one to stay home, but my father explained that my sister, who was then sixteen, could help Mother with the driving, and I was needed to help with my brother. I felt an ache in my heart that I didn’t think would ever go away.
One day after my mother and sister had been gone about a week, Steve was playing with some of his friends in the field up the street. They had made a fire and put a can of water on it. One of the boys accidentally kicked the can, and the boiling water splashed all over Steve’s stomach, burning him badly.
For the next week, I sat with him as he lay on the couch, unable to move. I found things to do with him that helped to get his mind off his pain. We played lots of games. One of our favorites was Fish, a card game. I also read to him. My father told me how thankful he was to have me there. I found that I was no longer thinking about my disappointment; instead, I was thinking about how I could help my brother feel better. And the ache in my heart was gone.
Dad surprised us at the end of the week—the three of us got on the train for Denver, where we would meet my mother, aunt, and sister. I will never forget seeing my brother stretched out on the train seat, unable to sit up because the burn on his stomach had still not healed. For a few days, we stayed with my uncle who lived in Denver; then the six of us drove home in our new car. Even though the trip was shorter and less scenic than a trip to the East Coast, it was enjoyable because our family was all together.
Giving up the trip to Detroit, New York City, and Washington, D.C., was a very difficult experience for me, yet I knew how much it meant to my brother to have me there. I understood why my family needed me to stay home, and it gave me a good feeling to know that I was needed and that I had chosen the right. My brother and I became very close through this experience. We found that we enjoyed spending time together long after he recovered from the burn. As adults, we are still close.

I read the magazine all the time, especially the Mormonisms. But this time, instead of just skimming over the Question and Answer section, I actually read what it said. I just want to let you know that when I read Q&A, tears came to my eyes. It reminded me of how many rough times I have had over the past year. For the longest time I would just cry in my bedroom about all these things and not tell anyone why I was upset. I remember a lot of times just asking Heavenly Father why I was going through this. This article helped me see that I can always ask for help and he will help me.
Leita MooreAngus, Ontario, Canada

Achy Djite Angenor is an investment assistant at China Harbour Engineering Company Limited (CHEC).
When I returned from my mission, I set goals for myself to be self-reliant, however, things did not go the way I expected. I hunted for a job for two months without success. At a point I got lost, but somehow, I had the impression to speak with a Church leader. He counselled me to visit the WSRS [Welfare and Self-Reliance Services] manager and to learn of the WSRS tools.
I spoke with Koffi Priva, one of the WSRS managers. I received training and coaching from him. I served in his department as a volunteer while at the same time pursuing my job search. My efforts paid off when after about two months I received calls from organizations to attend job interviews. I received four job offers and I had to settle on one. I am now employed with China Harbour Engineering Company as an investment assistant.
My next goal is to improve myself through career development and to stay competitive.
I recommend the WSRS initiative to every returned missionary.
I know with faith and determination that one can tame the elements and win the prize.

When I was a young boy, I loved to watch a television show called The Lone Ranger. It was about a cowboy hero and his friends. The Lone Ranger always stood for right choices. At times, there would be individuals who did not want to choose the right. They would cause problems for others. When the Lone Ranger tried to help, he often would be chased by those who wanted to hurt him. In his escape, the Lone Ranger would get on his horse, Silver, and try to outrun them. Sometimes he would ride under a low-hanging branch of a tree and reach up and take hold of the limb. Silver would continue on as the Lone Ranger pulled himself up into the tree to hide.
I tried that once when I was riding my horse. I grabbed the limb of a tree, and my horse kept going. But then the limb broke and I fell to the ground. I suffered the consequence of that decision with a broken arm. It was very painful.
I gained a little wisdom from that experience. Even though we see other people do something, especially if it is wrong, it doesn’t mean that we should do it. We all have friends, and sometimes they do not always follow the teachings of the gospel.
Despite what our friends are doing, it is important that we always follow the teachings of the gospel. “Follow the prophet; he knows the way” (Children’s Songbook, 110–11). He will always teach us the things we need to do to make right decisions. As we follow those principles, they will become a very important part of us.

I have had that happen to me recently. I was sitting in my home ward in the presence of a teacher who said something, and I felt a very faint prompting from the Spirit to act that day. I bear you my testimony that the scriptures are not being poetic when they describe the Holy Ghost as the still, small voice. It is so quiet that if you are noisy inside, you won’t hear it. It is real. I felt also that if I didn’t do it promptly, I would not again, at least not soon, feel that gentle instruction. So I did it. It is already changing my life and the lives of my children, some of whom are here tonight. I am confident that because I went and did the small thing that I felt impressed by the quiet voice to do, I made it more likely that I could receive a spiritual nudge again.

Stepping gingerly into the baptismal font, I felt a surge of peace flood my mind and heart. My bishop smiled and took my hand. At the threshold of baptism, I stood comfortably and intently awaiting my purpose.
In the font, I knew the rest of my life would be different. It would be a lot harder, but I realized that part of growing up is making choices that are right. As I leaned back into the water, I felt peace! I could hardly believe the joy. I had decided what I believed and took courage in my own conviction.

I could barely believe it. I was 30 feet under water with an air tank on my back, a regulator in my mouth, a mask and flippers on, and a sudden fear of fainting.
I had been taking practice dives with my scuba diving class for the past four weeks, and everything had gone without a hitch. Of course, those dives had been in a shallow, clear pool.
As I followed my scuba instructor down into our first real dive site—a deep, water-filled crater—I quickly found that the water was much murkier than I had imagined. In a matter of seconds I couldn’t see past my feet. After a minute or two of slowly sinking, I saw a structure of ropes and floating PVC pipes loom out of the dark water, marking the depth at 30 feet.
Our instructor motioned for us to hold on to the pipes and wait while he went around the group, testing our ability to read our water depth and air supply.
I clung to the pipe and stared at my white knuckles. They looked blue-gray in the cold, underwater light. The pressure was pushing uncomfortably on my ears, and all I could hear was the strange, empty whooshing of water around me. I had never felt more trapped. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t hear, I could barely see. And what was worse, as I stared at my hands, I realized that they were tingling. So were my cheeks. It was that strange sensation I always got from breathing too shallowly. I thought I must be hyperventilating.
A panicked question flitted through my mind: what would happen if I fainted? Frightened, I looked to the side at my classmates. But I had no way to tell them what was happening. I looked up, but the surface was just a dim glimmer of light. I didn’t have the courage to try swimming to it. Fear kept me clinging to the pipe. Then, instinctively, I began to pray.
I pled in my heart that I would calm down, that the tingling would subside and I would be able to safely complete the dive. As I finished, it struck me that my Heavenly Father really can hear me, no matter where I am. There at 30 feet under water I could do no more than think the prayer in my mind and feel it in my heart, but that was enough. He heard me and answered.
My body relaxed, and the feelings and fear of fainting slowly dissolved. I completed the dive and swam with my class to the surface.

Ítalo was excited for the ward temple trip. They were going to the Recife Brazil Temple. It was 15 hours away!
Ítalo, his older brother, Henrique, and their parents left early in the morning. As they rode along, Ítalo kept thinking about something Mom had told him. “This year, you can see how beautiful the temple is from the outside,” she said. “Next year, you’ll be old enough to see how beautiful it is on the inside.”
Ítalo hadn’t been to any temple before. But he had been watching the new temple being built in Fortaleza, where his family lived. It was amazing!
They stopped for lunch. Ítalo had his favorite, feijoada, black bean stew with rice. While he ate, he kept thinking about the temple. When the temple in Fortaleza was finally dedicated, it would be a temple his family could visit over and over again. They wouldn’t have to drive so far.
The sun was setting when Ítalo and his family arrived at the temple in Recife. “Que bonito!” Ítalo said. “How beautiful!” He couldn’t stop smiling.
The next morning, Mom showed Ítalo where he would be waiting with his friends from the ward. “Even though you can’t go inside the temple yet,” she said, “pay attention to the special spirit you can feel while you’re on the temple grounds.” Then the rest of Ítalo’s family went inside the temple.
Members of the ward sat with Ítalo and the other children on the grass near the temple. They read stories from O Livro de Mórmon (the Book of Mormon) together. Reading scriptures is a good way to get ready for the temple, Ítalo thought. He felt calm and safe. Mom’s right, he thought. There is a special feeling here.
Then the adults took Ítalo and the other children for a walk around the temple grounds. That’s when Ítalo noticed the words over the entrance to the temple. “Santidade ao Senhor. A casa do Senhor,” they said. “Holiness to the Lord: the House of the Lord.”
No wonder I feel so peaceful here, he thought. This is God’s house.
When the temple trip was over, Ítalo and his family returned home. He wanted to remember how he had felt at the temple. What could he do?
Sometimes Ítalo felt he could draw his feelings better than he could write about them. So he drew a picture of the temple. Then he showed it to Mom and Dad.
“This will remind me of where I want to go,” he said. He kept the picture in his room where he could look at it each day.
“I want to be ready,” he said. “Because I want to go inside someday!”

In 1984, Elder Bruce R. McConkie described a survey that was given at the Missionary Training Center in Provo.[1] The missionaries were asked to evaluate their own testimonies about ten different truths, including:
I quote what happened next from his biography:
In a very sober tone, Elder McConkie asked: "Would you be interested in knowing which of these [ten] areas was the lowest in terms of testimony?" Everyone nodded. He said: "The lowest area of testimony across elders, sisters, and couples [was]:
...Elder McConkie [then] raised his voice and said: “Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong!”[2]
Brothers and sisters, Elder McConkie is right. If Joseph Smith—and the Restoration of the gospel through him—is not a fundamental part of our testimony, then something is definitely wrong.

Jenni Holt is from Ottawa, Canada’s beautiful capital city built on the wooded banks of the Ottawa River. She and friends from the Ottawa Ontario Stake talked with Church magazines about how prayer affects their lives.

One of the most interesting things the Ottawa teens discussed was how their prayers were answered. First, Susan Brook said, “If you want an answer, you have to listen for it.”
Susan said her answers sometimes come by reading the scriptures. She had a good example: “One day, I was just really tired, and I was being mean to everyone. I didn’t want to talk. I remember reading in the scriptures, I don’t even remember where, and it said, ‘Be humble.’ It hit me. That’s my answer.” (See D&C 112:10.)

In spite of the many negative occurrences in life, there are those who seem to have the knack of seeing the positive side. A young businessman was opening a new branch office, and a friend sent a floral arrangement to help celebrate the occasion. When the friend arrived at the opening, he was appalled to find the wreath bore the inscription “Rest in Peace.” Angry, he later complained to the florist. After apologizing, the florist said, “Look at it this way. Somewhere today a man was buried under a wreath that said, ‘Good luck in your new location.’”

One morning during a windy snowstorm, we were riding in the car. Two sister missionaries were walking in the storm, and we offered them a ride. One was from Samoa. We asked them if they needed anything. The other missionary said her companion’s gloves weren’t warm enough. We had an extra pair of gloves in the car, and they fit the sister from Samoa. It warmed our hearts that we were able to do something for the missionaries who are serving the Lord.
Garrison and Kempton M., ages 10 and 8, Idaho

For example, just last winter while on a real estate development site visit in Hawaii, the President of a California investment bank who would shortly be placed in an adversarial position with my client because of an imminent default I knew my client would commit with respect to a very large loan, mentioned that he had known members of the Church who served as legal counsel to him on other transactions. He showed great respect having previously learned that I was a member of the Church and confessed a genuine curiosity as to what we believed. I felt compelled by the Spirit to meet him the next day before he returned to San Francisco to present him with a copy of the Book of Mormon with my testimony in it. Although he graciously accepted the gift and promised to read it, this meeting ran counter to all of my legal and ethical training. Nevertheless, the Spirit commanded, and I knew I was the salt of the earth in this particular instance and could not live with the thought that I had lost my savor.

One day as Christmastime approached, my parents announced that we were going to a drive-in movie. For a seven-year-old, this was very good news, but I thought I could make it even better.
“Can Kenny come too?” I asked. Kenny was my age and lived next door.
Dad smiled. “Of course, if it’s OK with his parents.”
I grew up in a small house in a small town. Mom and Dad often talked about struggling to get by on a teacher’s salary, but we must have been wealthy compared to Kenny’s family. When I invited him that afternoon, he was overjoyed. I could tell that he seldom got to see a movie.
That night we drove up in front of Kenny’s house in our station wagon. When Dad honked the horn, Kenny came running out carrying a brown lunch bag spotted with grease stains.
“What’s in the bag?” I asked.
Kenny smiled shyly. “Some snacks for the movie.”
“What kind of snacks?”
“Oh, just some fried calf liver that my mom cooked up.”
“Wow!” I said. “I’ll trade you some popcorn for some of your liver.” I knew that Kenny couldn’t afford to buy popcorn, but I wasn’t just being nice. Liver was my favorite food.
December soon brought lights and carols and secret shopping. The whole world felt alive and full of wonder. Finally, after an endless wait, the best moment of the year arrived—Christmas morning!
We awoke early, as usual, and had all the presents opened before 6:00 a.m. I got several brand-new racing cars and a new track to go with them. I also got a “supercharger” that would shoot the cars down the track at an astonishing speed. “This is the best Christmas ever!” I exclaimed.
I couldn’t wait to tell Kenny about my presents. I rushed over to his house and pounded on the door. When he opened it, I blurted out, “What did you get from Santa Claus?”
“Santa brought me this new pair of pants and this shirt for school.”
“Neat,” I said. “What cool toys did you get?”
“I didn’t get any toys this year.” He was still smiling.
I stood there speechless for seconds that felt like minutes. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to feel. I don’t remember what I did or said next, but I know I didn’t mention my gifts.
When I got home, I must have looked sad. “What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
“Kenny didn’t get a single toy for Christmas.” I felt like I was sharing a tragedy.
Mom thought for a few moments, then asked a question that changed my life: “What if you were to take a couple of your new racing cars and wrap them up for Kenny?”
An hour earlier, her idea would have sounded crazy. Now it was a lifeline in a storm, and I grabbed it. I carefully chose two of my best cars and wrapped them. I wrote on a small card, “Merry Christmas, Kenny! From Steve.”
When Kenny unwrapped the gifts, his eyes lit up, and my heart grew bigger than my chest. We played with our racing cars all Christmas afternoon.
“How do you feel?” Mom asked that evening.
“Good,” I replied. “Great” would have been more like it.
I often think back on all the special Christmases I enjoyed growing up. I treasure every one of them and appreciate every gift I received—my first shiny new bike, the magnificent pump-action BB gun, and all the rest. But no Christmas gift could ever come close to the one Mom gave me by suggesting that I give away a couple of toy cars. Every time I think of that experience, all is calm, all is bright.