Gospel Story Finder

That’s not bad for a young woman who’s been a member of the Church for a little over one year.

“Before I met the missionaries, I had seen them but I didn’t know the nature of what they were preaching. Then one autumn day, two of them knocked at my door.

“We let them in and listened to them. After they left, I read the Book of Mormon and prayed. The more I read the happier and more interested I felt. I waited and waited. They hadn’t said when they might return.

“By the time they came back, I had many, many questions. I listened to everything they taught. From then on, I prayed daily, whenever and wherever it was necessary. I read the scriptures continually. Eventually I gained a strong belief in the Church and I was baptized on October 9. Afterward, I was able to learn more and more from teachers in Sunday School and Young Women and from the example of many members. I have become totally active in the Church.

“Since I joined, I haven’t had any pessimistic thoughts at all. Any unhappy feeling can’t last five minutes in me. Besides, by observing the commandments, I have avoided going astray or learning bad habits. My life has become more solid. I have gained more knowledge.

“My mother is a Buddhist, and it is hard for her to think of changing her traditions. But she does not object to my belief in the Church. I hope that by the time I become old enough to think about leaving on a full-time mission, she will have joined the Church. I don’t often get a chance to talk at length with my father, because he is a very busy man, a newspaper distribution manager. He is also remodeling our apartment, which takes up his time after work. But I hope that he also will someday find the gospel and that my younger brothers and sisters will, too.” (Mei Ling is the oldest of five children.)

Over a quarter of a century ago I listened in this Tabernacle to these words: “A few years ago as I began to practice law, members of my family were a little uneasy. They were afraid I would lose my faith. I wanted to practice law, but I had an even greater desire to keep my testimony, and so I decided upon a little procedure which I recommend to you. For thirty minutes each morning before I began the day’s work I read from the Book of Mormon . … and in just a few minutes a day I read the Book of Mormon through, every year, for nine years. I know that it kept me in harmony, so far as I did keep in harmony, with the Spirit of the Lord.” (Conference Report, Apr. 1949, p. 36.) It will hold us as close to the Spirit of the Lord as anything I know. That was President Marion G. Romney. I echo his counsel.

The pure love of Christ, which is charity,6 inspires us not only to act and provide service but also to have the strength to forgive, regardless of the situation. May I share with you an experience that has impacted and changed my life. Ted and Sharon, Cooper’s parents, who are here today, have given me permission to share what happened to their family more than nine years ago. I will tell the experience from the perspective of Ted, Cooper’s father:
August 21, 2008, was the first day of school, and Cooper’s three older brothers, Ivan, Garrett, and Logan, were all at the bus stop waiting to board buses. Cooper, who was four years old, was on his bike; my wife, Sharon, had walked.
My wife was across the street and motioned to Cooper to cross. At the same time, a car very slowly made a left turn and rolled over Cooper.
I received a phone call from a neighbor telling me Cooper had been hit by a car. I quickly drove down to the bus stop to see him. Cooper was lying on the grass, struggling to breathe, but had no visible injuries.
I knelt down by Cooper and said encouraging things like “It’s going to be OK. Hang on.” At that moment my high priests group leader, Nathan, appeared with his wife. She suggested we give Cooper a priesthood blessing. We laid our hands on Cooper’s head. I can’t remember what I said in the blessing, but I clearly remember the presence of others around us, and it was at that moment I knew Cooper was going to pass away.
Cooper was flown by helicopter to the hospital but did, in fact, pass away. I felt Heavenly Father was telling me that my earthly stewardship had ended and that Cooper was now in His care.
We were able to spend some time with Cooper at the hospital. The workers there prepared him so we could hold him and say our goodbyes and allowed us to spend as much time with him, holding him, as we desired.
On the way home, my grief-stricken wife and I looked at each other and started talking about the boy who was driving the car. We didn’t know him, even though he lived just one street over and was within our ward boundaries.
The next day was very difficult for us as we were all completely overwhelmed with grief. I fell to my knees and prayed the most sincere prayer I had ever offered. I asked Heavenly Father in the name of my Savior to take away my overwhelming grief. He did so.
Later that day one of the counselors in our stake presidency arranged for us to meet with the young man—the driver of the car—and his parents at the counselor’s home. Sharon and I waited for the boy and his parents to arrive. When the door opened, we met them for the first time. My bishop whispered in my ear, “Go to him.” Sharon and I embraced him in a big group hug. We wept together for what seemed to be a long time. We told him we knew that what had happened was the definition of an accident.
It was miraculous to Sharon and me, both that we felt the way we did and that we still do. By God’s grace, we were able to take the big path, the obvious path, the only path, and love this good young man.
We have become very close to him and his family over the years. He has shared his most precious milestone moments with us. We even went to the temple with him as he prepared for his mission.7

Making adobe bricks was hard work for young James Nielsen and his family. They lived on a large farm in Fairview, Utah, and some of their ground had perfect clay for making bricks. During the summer of 1912, James, his father, brothers, and other relatives worked long hours mixing mud, molding bricks, and hauling them to the large kiln where they would later be baked.
Now, at summer’s end, 75,000 bricks were placed carefully inside the kiln. James’s eyes gleamed at the sight of so many! They represented the Nielsens’ hard work all summer long. Happily, James’s father started the fire in the kiln, which needed to burn for three weeks straight in order to properly bake the bricks. The temperature had to be kept just right. Cedar wood had been hauled and stacked nearby to fuel the large oven, and James’s brother-in-law, “Uncle George,” watched the fire night and day. James and his brothers took turns cutting wood to keep the fire burning. Everything was going just fine.
But then it started to rain. It poured nonstop for more than a week. The Nielsens soon ran out of the wood they had gathered, and they couldn’t take their horses and wagons into the hills to find more because the ground was too muddy. They burned everything they could spare on the farm—fence posts, corral rails, even the outhouse.
James would never forget how discouraged Uncle George looked as he put the last stick of wood in the oven. “The bricks will be nothing but a pile of smoked mud.” He frowned.
James’s father folded his arms. “I don’t know much about making bricks. I’ve never done it before. But I know Heavenly Father can help us.” He told Uncle George to seal up the kiln as if the process were finished, and suggested that everyone go home and get some rest.
The next morning, James and Uncle George sat together moping. Surely the bricks were ruined. “We all worked so hard,” James said. George nodded. “And for so long.”
James noticed that his father was missing, so he went to look for him. As he rounded the kiln, he found his father kneeling on the soggy ground. James stopped in his tracks. His father was praying aloud, asking the Lord to bless the brick kiln. James heard his father tell the Lord how hard they had all worked and how they had done everything possible to make sure the bricks turned out all right. With great faith and humility, James’s father asked the Lord to help, then ended his prayer. James quickly backed away without his father seeing him.
When it was finally time to open the kiln, most of the family didn’t dare even look at the bricks. But James’s father was calm and confident as he opened up the top of the kiln. James held his breath as his father lifted out two bricks. They were beautiful! They rang like a bell when clicked together, and their color was just right. People came from all over Sanpete County to buy them. People even bought the broken pieces. Not one brick was left.
Remembering this miracle, James later wrote, “We children know that it was done by the priesthood Father held and the power of prayer.”

Elder D. Todd Christofferson
(32) William Tyndale is martyred for translating the Bible into English.

Growing up, I saw many examples of meaningful relationships between married women and their mothers-in-law. I saw mothers-in-law who showed up at difficult times to ease their daughter-in-law’s burdens. I saw women acting as if they were lifelong family members. And I looked forward to having a relationship like that in my own life.
So when I did get married, I was surprised by how much harder it was to get along with my husband’s parents than I expected. I felt hopeless for any chance of a positive relationship with my in-laws. But as time has gone on, I’ve learned that it is still possible to cultivate a good relationship with my in-laws—I just needed to change my perspective and expectations.
My husband’s parents and I have very opposite personalities. And as a young adult trying to adjust to married life, work at a difficult job, and handle college classes, I craved validation. I yearned for encouragement. But what I got from my in-laws—especially my mother-in-law—was criticism.
Their family frequently pointed out each other’s perceived faults. To them it was normal, but it tore me apart when I was the target, especially when it came from my husband’s mother.
I did everything I could to impress her, but it never seemed to be enough. So I oscillated between trying to earn my in-laws’ approval and trying to distance myself from them altogether. As a result, I didn’t want my husband to tell them much about our lives.
Even while distancing myself, however, I still found that criticism seeped into my life. Without realizing it, I accepted the negative messages I was receiving and compounded them with my own. I constantly told myself that I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, thin enough—anything enough. This vicious cycle would have existed even without my in-laws, but all our interactions seemed to fuel the fire.
My husband could tell that I often felt hurt or angry by his parents’ words and behavior. He tried his best to balance his love for his parents and his love for me, but it was a difficult and sometimes sore spot in our relationship.
One day, as I was feeling only a shadow of hope, I decided to pray for my in-laws and our unhappy dynamic. And then the realization hit me hard: I would never have the relationship with my mother-in-law that I’d always wanted. I felt sorrow for a moment, but the Spirit came quickly with this gentle thought: “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a good relationship.”
Honestly, it had never entered my head that our relationship could be different from what I’d pictured and still be a positive one.
I’d also never thought that my expectations were part of the problem. I’d wanted my mother-in-law to fit my vision of who she should be, but it wasn’t fair to only accept her if she fulfilled my expectations.
How freeing it was to let go of the expectations I had for my mother-in-law and still believe a better relationship could develop, especially as I relied on the Savior.
As I gave the Savior my feelings of inadequacy and the pain of unmet expectations, I experienced what Sister Michelle D. Craig, First Counselor in the Young Women General Presidency, once described: “Jesus’s miracles often begin with a recognition of want, need, failure, or inadequacy. … [The disciples] gave what they had to Jesus, and then He provided the miracle.”1
I’ve learned that I can focus on my mother-in-law’s strengths, and Christ can help me see her as He does. I have come to appreciate that she is a grandma who cares about her grandkids, that she serves faithfully in her callings, and that she loves the temple—all things I missed when I saw only her disapproval and hurtful words. I can strive to focus on these positive points and find common ground.
And instead of walking the same mental path and beating myself up over and over again, I can stop accepting judgments and unfair expectations from others and repent of shortcomings when I need to.
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles reminded us that “we should not demean or vilify ourselves, as if beating up on ourselves is somehow going to make us the person God wants us to become.” Instead, we should remember that “the grace of Christ offers … salvation from our own persistent self-criticism.”2
When I work on feeling more peace within myself, it gives me a greater capacity to contribute to my relationship with my mother-in-law, including sending her pictures of her grandkids and acknowledging holidays and her birthday in fun ways.
My experience with my mother-in-law is just one piece of me realizing that I need to be at peace with who I am and not let others define me. I can depend on the Lord to heal my imperfections, because “his grace [is] sufficient for [me],” and by his grace I “may be perfect in Christ” (Moroni 10:32).
I hold on to the promise I felt from the Spirit that the Savior can help me continue to grow and that I can continually build a loving relationship with my in-laws by recognizing their personal goodness and enjoying our common ground without molding them to my ideal or trying to fit theirs.
I feel the promise also applies to the relationship I have with myself. When I am kinder to myself and focus on my divine identity (as well as everyone else’s) as a child of Heavenly Father, it positively affects how I interact with others, and vice versa. I can progress when I recognize the power of my Savior to help me overcome my imperfections and to help others do the same.

When I returned to Buenos Aires, my mother realized that I truly wanted to be baptized. Since I had a somewhat rebellious spirit, instead of opposing me, she very wisely took my side. And without even knowing it, she did my baptismal interview herself. Indeed, I believe that her interview was even more in-depth than those that our missionaries conduct. She told me, “If you want to be baptized, I will support you. But first I’m going to ask you some questions, and I want you to think very hard and answer me honestly. Do you commit to attend church absolutely every Sunday?”
I told her, “Yes, of course I’m going to do that.”
“Do you have any idea how long church is?”
“Yes, I know,” I said.
She replied, “Well, if you get baptized, I am going to make sure that you attend.” Then she asked me if I was truly willing to never drink alcohol or smoke.
I answered, “Yes, of course I am going to comply with that as well.”
To which she added, “If you get baptized, I am going to make sure that that is the case.” And she proceeded on in that way with almost every commandment.
My uncle had called my mother to tell her not to worry, that I would get over this soon. Four years later, when I received my call to serve in the Uruguay Montevideo Mission, my mother called my uncle to ask him exactly when I was going to get over all this. The truth is that from the time I was baptized, my mother was a happier mother.

When I was baptized, I heard a lot about family history, but I didn’t know how to do it or if I could. I decided to pray about it, and I felt that I should start working on it right away. I felt that my ancestors were anxious for me to begin and that they would help me find the information necessary to do the ordinances.
I began by taking a family history course, and a short time later I was called to be a family history consultant. I was nervous because I didn’t know much about it, but I accepted the calling.
One day I visited my grandmother’s sister, who had documents about my great-grandmother. She didn’t want to share a lot of information because they had a tradition of not speaking about deceased relatives. She said the next day was the anniversary of my great-grandmother’s death, and she was going to burn the documents. I asked if I could get some information from them first, and she let me. I knew then that Heavenly Father would help me continue my research.
As I served in the family history center near the temple, I continued to discover more about my family. I learned that two of my great-grandmother’s grandparents were Italian immigrants who had a farm near São Paulo, Brazil. My family had lost contact with the relatives on the farm, but I found a cousin who was writing a book about the genealogy of our family. He gave me the book, which had taken him nine years to write. He said he didn’t know why he should write it but felt it would help someone in the future. I know that it was the spirit of Elijah inspiring him.
My experiences taught me that we are doing a sacred work. Our ancestors are waiting for our help and are at our side to help us.
Gabriel D., Brazil

When my wife started taking classes, I noticed that we started having stimulating and insightful significant discussions of the scriptures and Church matters more frequently. In one particularly significant experience, we spoke quietly with each other in the temple after a session, and she shared with me an understanding she had of the endowment ceremony. The Spirit testified of the truthfulness of what she was saying. That shared moment was a precious one in our relationship.
Now, I don’t think her classes provided this new knowledge; rather, her increased self-confidence and increased range of interests sent her prayerfully thinking into an area that she had previously thought of as “beyond her.” As a result of her spiritual insights, she elevated and broadened my knowledge of an important eternal truth.

I would like to thank you for running that story, “Holiday Homework,” in the December issue. I could actually identify with the young girl’s feelings. I also am the only member in my family. Although I love both of my parents dearly, I live for the day when they too will be able to accept Jesus as their Savior and will want to join the true church of Jesus Christ.
I may not have to come home to such a house as Cheryl did, but my best friend does have one up on me. Her family is to me a great deal like the Millers in Cheryl’s life. My friend’s father, our bishop, is just like a second father to me, and her mother is such a loving, warm person that I can’t help but love her. My friend is a very loving, forgiving, and understanding person, and I couldn’t ask for a better friend. She introduced me to the Church. I pray to my Heavenly Father each night to bless and keep these wonderful people.
Sister Ottesen’s story may have been fiction, but to me it has been my way of life for the past year.
Rhonda FryerConcord, California

One day during a time when Mama wouldn’t get out of bed and I had come home dreading to open the front door, I was happily surprised to see that the house was clean and in perfect order. Our sweet Relief Society president had cleaned the house from top to bottom, and Mama was all cleaned up and sitting in her chair. Other ward members often helped our family too.

In Bangalore, located in southern India, the growing strength of the Church can be attributed to returned missionaries who serve as branch leaders. Bangalore First Branch president Michael Anthony, his two counselors, and his executive secretary bring an enthusiasm to their callings that they gained on their missions. Baptisms are up in their branch, and sacrament meeting attendance is nearly 80 percent.
“We now have 10 temple recommend holders in the branch,” says President Anthony, the first Church member in Bangalore. “Members cannot afford to go to the temple, but they want to show the Lord that they are trying to be faithful.”

Illustration by Brad Teare
Lucia wiped away a tear. She didn’t want the other kids to see. She left the school grounds and hurried toward home.
Lucia lived on a small, beautiful island. She was the only member of the Church at school. Everybody else went to the same church. They teased Lucia and wouldn’t play with her because she was different.
That wasn’t the only problem. Sometimes the teachers ignored Lucia when she raised her hand.
But today was the worst! Lucia thought. She kicked a pebble down the road. During class, the teacher read some Bible verses that Lucia didn’t understand. They made it sound like Heavenly Father, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost were the same person. Then the teacher said there were some churches that didn’t believe what the Bible taught. She looked straight at Lucia. Everybody in class laughed.
Lucia was confused. Weren’t Heavenly Father, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost separate? What was going on?
Suddenly she had a happy thought. She could ask the missionaries! They came to Lucia’s village every day. They’ll know how to help! she thought.
When Lucia got home, she saw Sister Brown and Sister Ruiz. They were helping pump water up to a tank on the roof.
Lucia asked her question right away. “Why does the Bible say Heavenly Father and Jesus are the same person?”
Sister Brown smiled. “That’s a good question. After lunch let’s look for some scriptures to help.”
Lucia hardly tasted any of the yummy ropa vieja stew Mama had made. All she wanted was the answer!
Finally lunch was over. Lucia and the missionaries opened their scriptures. They read about Joseph Smith’s vision. Then they read about Jesus’s baptism. Both scriptures showed that Heavenly Father, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost were separate.
“So why do those other scriptures say they’re the same?” asked Lucia.
Sister Brown started turning the pages. “Let’s read in John 17:21–22. That’s where Jesus prays to Heavenly Father about His Apostles.”
They all took turns reading. In the scriptures, Jesus prayed that His Apostles “may be one” like He and Heavenly Father are one. Lucia counted three different times He said it.
“The Apostles couldn’t all become the same person,” Sister Ruiz said. “But they could become one in how they believed and acted. That’s how Heavenly Father, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost are one.”
Lucia began to feel warm inside. She knew it was the Holy Ghost. He was telling her that what Sister Ruiz said was true.
Heavenly Father and Jesus weren’t the same person. But They were the same in what They said and did. And Lucia knew that They both loved her.

I had an experience like yours. I wanted so much to be able to tell the bishop, but I thought he would have little respect for me as a member of his ward. I prayed about it for a long time. I was finally comforted enough by the Spirit to be able to tell the bishop about my problem. After I told him what I had done, he let me know that what I had done was wrong but that he still loved me and so does my Heavenly Father. He let me know that there is a way back and that is by repentance. Repentance is such a wonderful process. I beg you to give it a try. The Lord is waiting for you!
Name withheld

I had a similar experience as a young boy on my grandparents’ farm. They taught me about tithing with examples of one egg or one bushel of peaches out of ten. Years later I used those same kinds of examples to try to teach the principles of tithing to our own children.

Parents are always looking for better ways to teach, and the results of their efforts are sometimes unexpected. Attempting to teach tithing to our young son, I explained the principle of a tenth and how it would apply to the eggs gathered in a chicken farm and the young calves or horses born in a breeding herd. When I finished what I was sure was a clear explanation, I wanted to test whether our seven-year-old had understood. I asked him to imagine that he was a farmer with a harvest of eggs and young animals. I supplied the figures and then asked our little boy what he would give to the bishop as tithing. He thought deeply for a moment and then said, “I would give him a very old horse.”

We obviously had some further conversations on the principle of tithing, and I am proud of the way he and his brother and sisters learned and practiced that principle. But I have often thought of that little boy’s words as I have observed how some adult Church members relate to the law of tithing. I think we still have some whose attitude and performance consist of giving the bishop something like “a very old horse.”

A young man said to me one day, “Do you belong to a ward and have a bishop?” I replied, “Of course I do.” He asked further, “Do you attend tithing settlement with your local ward bishop?” I replied that I do, that I, even though serving as a member of the Presidency of the Church, have an accountability to my local ward bishop just as every other man and woman in this church is accountable either to a bishop or to a branch president.
He was somewhat amazed. I was surprised to think that he would even raise such questions. I thought of the genius of the Lord’s work and the wisdom of the organization of His church. I have heard President Benson speak with appreciation for his bishop. I feel a kinship with my bishop. I hope that each of you feels similarly.

My husband and I were traveling to his parents’ home after a camping trip. With little cell service, we decided to use our GPS. We turned it on and set it on the shortest route to their home.
With just an hour or so to go, the GPS directed us to turn left onto a dirt road off the main highway. Though we were a bit confused by the directions, we trusted in the GPS and continued along this route. Before long, we were navigating some muddy sections on the road due to the scattered rain showers. At each puddle we encountered, we considered turning around, but we pushed forward. We felt we’d gone too far to turn back.
We reached a puddle that was so large, we got stuck.
We were alone in the mountains (besides wild animals). We hadn’t seen more than a couple vehicles since we’d left the main highway.
One thing was certain: there was no way we could get our car out of the mud on our own. In that moment, I was terrified. And in hindsight, there were some important parallels about trust that I drew from this experience.
When we prayed to God for help after getting stuck, He brought peace to our hearts, and we trusted His prompting. Then we acted in faith. We walked a quarter of a mile to find a spot where we had cell service and could call our family. We told them what had happened and were able to give them a good idea of our location. Then we waited.
Near midnight, after being stuck for more than six hours, our family arrived to help. I felt an intense measure of relief and joy as we made gradual progress down the mountain toward their home, where dinner was waiting for us.

Well I am sure that there are ways and means. I want to mention a story I have told about Uncle Golden. You have heard about my Uncle J. Golden Kimball, who was a rather interesting person. I don’t think it is true, but it was told of him that his creditors kept coming and bothering him all the time and they wanted payments on their accounts. And he began to get a little tired of it, and he said, “Now listen here, fellows. You know the way I handle my accounts. I take all of the bills at the end of the month and I put them in the waste basket. Then I stir them around and if I see one that looks good and I can I’ll pay it. But,” he said, “if you don’t quit bothering me I won’t even put yours in the waste basket.”

A week after I got baptized, I was ordained a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood. I now had the authority from God to bless and pass the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, help the needy and to minister to others. The Aaronic Priesthood prepared me to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood. Soon I was ordained to the office of elder and was ready to follow the example of Christ in serving others. The Lord said, “Wherefore, now let every man learn his duty, and to act in the office in which he is appointed, in all diligence.

“He that is slothful shall not be counted worthy to stand, and he that learns not his duty and shows himself not approved shall not be counted worthy to stand. Even so. Amen” (Doctrine and Covenants 107:99–100).

I have watched the skilled hands of Navajo women in the American Southwest as they weave intricate patterns in beautiful rugs. They select and prepare each colored thread of yarn very carefully and insert it in precisely the right place. They weave the varied colors artistically into the fabric of the whole to form rugs that eventually conform to the preconceived plan of their creators.