Gospel Story Finder

If you’ve ever felt that way, you’d like to meet Anna Ruth Aaron, 15, of the Lubbock, Texas First Ward. She was afraid, too, until she tried missionary work.
“I was afraid to talk to my friends about the Church,” said Anna Ruth. “But I’ve always been very open with the fact that I’m a Mormon. My friends know my views on drinking and smoking. At parties, if a newcomer tried to pressure me into something against my standards, my friends would tell him to stop.
“I always dreamed I could be a missionary and bring one of my friends, or the whole group of them, into the Church.”
Dreams have a way of making fears disappear. At least that’s what Anna Ruth discovered when she found herself talking to a good friend about the Church.
“I’d known Diane Swann a little, but from the first day of the new school year, we became very close friends. We started walking home from school together and spending time together. One day as we were walking home, something told me ‘Ask her … ask her … ask.’
“So I said, ‘Diane, can I ask you something? I’ve never done this before, and I’ll admit I’m scared, but I would like you to meet the missionaries for my church. You could listen to one of the lessons they have, which will explain what my church is like. If you don’t want to I’ll understand, and it won’t affect our friendship at all.’
“Diane replied, ‘Yes, I’ll listen to one lesson, but I want you to know right now, I’m not going to join your church.’”
Anna Ruth arranged for the first lesson, Diane came, and there was a good spirit there. Diane asked her mother if she might continue the lessons and her mother said yes, but she said that Diane would not want to join the Church. Diane continued the lessons, the missionaries challenged her to be baptized, her mother gave permission—and Diane joined the Church.
How did Diane feel about Anna Ruth talking to her about the Church?
“I didn’t feel offended, but I was surprised,” said Diane. “My mother was surprised when I told her I was interested in the Church, because religion wasn’t discussed much in our home. My brother teased me about it, but my mother was very supportive, and came to the baptism. I think it’s a very good idea to talk to friends about the Church, because if Anna Ruth hadn’t done that for me, I wouldn’t be in the Church. Don’t be afraid to ask.”

When I was single and attending my YSA ward, many of my friends and I faced a lot of challenges as we strived for the blessings of eternal marriage and family we learn about in the gospel of Jesus Christ. Some of these friends were single much longer than they wanted to be, others had gotten married but were suddenly widowed or divorced, and others faced serious health challenges that imperiled their chances of getting married or having their own children.
In different ways, we were struggling to keep our faith despite lost hope and shattered dreams.
At first, when I got home from my mission, I was hopeful I would get married soon. I had recently accepted that I experience same-sex attraction and decided that I would faithfully stay on the covenant path and have optimism about my future in the gospel rather than give up. But dating women was still a challenge. And as the years after my mission stretched on, my hope in getting married receded and instead felt like a practical impossibility.
I had a testimony of the doctrine taught in the family proclamation,1 but it was sometimes painful to read because the beautiful eternal family it described just didn’t seem possible for me.
I wondered where my friends and I fit in Heavenly Father’s plan.
One night while I was weighed down by my trials, I had a dream. In the dream, I felt an overwhelming feeling of love. I dreamed that God invited me to ask Him for food, and I dreamed I went to bed and arose with that food miraculously provided. The dream was so vivid that when I woke up, I was almost surprised there wasn’t food waiting for me at the foot of my bed. The dream left me with an absolute conviction that God had and would continue to nourish me.
The dream stuck with me all day, and I had a vague recollection of a story of a worn-out prophet in the Old Testament who went to sleep and woke up to a meal provided by an angel, but I couldn’t remember who he was. I wanted to locate the story in my scriptures that night, but I felt prompted to open the Ensign and browse through it first. As I opened the magazine, I noticed a beautiful painting on the inside back cover.
The painting was An Angel Came to Elijah, by Walter Rane, and it portrayed the exact Old Testament story I had been trying to remember.
I was shocked. What were the odds?
The story I had been looking for is found in 1 Kings 19. The prophet Elijah is exhausted from constantly being on the run. He is ready to give up and asks the Lord to take his life and then lies down underneath a juniper tree to sleep (see verse 4). He awakens to find water and warm bread, which he eats, and then he goes back to sleep. Then, a second time, an angel awakens him and says, “Arise and eat; because the journey is too great for thee” (verse 7). And as he does, he eventually “went in the strength of that meat forty days and forty nights” (verse 8).
To my further astonishment, in the same issue of the magazine, there was a faith-promoting article about same-sex attraction.2
I was in awe of the Lord’s care for me. The Holy Ghost confirmed that these inspired words from others were perfectly timed and meant for me. I could not deny that God was mindful of me and would provide for my needs if I continued to follow Him.
Like Elijah, I sometimes felt that my journey was too great to bear. But I felt so loved and understood by the Lord in that moment. I knew that He understood my circumstances and that my suffering mattered to Him. And if I partook of the spiritual sustenance that only He could provide, I would receive strength to continue my journey.

Experience # 2 - Some time ago, we were in a stake presidency meeting with Elder Scott D. Whiting. The zone leaders for full-time missionaries in the area were invited for a part of the meeting. Elder Whiting questioned them about where they ate lunch on a particular day the past week. He then asked if they were talking about such and such a thing and goofing off. They replied they were. He reminded them that they had a badge on that said they were representatives of the Lord Jesus Christ. There was a standard expected of them, and they fell short. There were people watching and had reported their actions to Elder Whiting.

The woodland was under a heavy shroud of cloud cover that weekend. Rain filtered through the air, and the cameramen waited patiently to expose their film. It rained, and they prayed. And it rained some more. If the filmmakers were unable to complete filming in that one week during the spring of 1975, the project would have to wait a year until the surroundings were right again. The season would soon change, and to add to the problems, the lead actor had to leave the following Friday. On Monday morning the crew awoke before dawn and and began to set up all their equipment, thinking somehow they could compensate for the weather. But suddenly it stopped raining. When the sun came up, they beheld the loveliest mist they had ever seen. The tall, wet grasses sparkled, and the birds burst forth in song, and they knew they had been blessed with a beauty they could never have produced themselves.
That morning the Brigham Young University Department of Film Production began filming scenes for the First Vision. Stewart Petersen, who played the Prophet Joseph, walked through those tall grasses with thoughts of that other “beautiful, clear day, early in the spring of eighteen hundred and twenty” (JS—H 1:14) when Joseph Smith humbly prayed for an answer to his question, “Which of all the churches should I join?”

1 Cory prepares himself for baptism by attending Sunday School and Primary.
2 He also attends sacrament meeting with his family and friends.
3 Reading the scriptures helps Cory prepare himself.
4 Everyone in Cory’s family celebrates his birthday during family home evening.
5 Cory’s father and mother discuss with him the importance of his special birthday and what it means to be baptized.
6 Cory talks with his bishop about his worthiness and willingness to be baptized.
7 He also talks with our Heavenly Father and offers a special prayer for his baptism on Saturday.
8 At the baptism Cory sits with his father and some of his friends who are also being baptized. They all must be dressed in white.
9 After an opening song and prayer a short review is given about the importance of baptism.
10 Each child is helped into the water by the person who does the baptizing.
11 When it is Cory’s turn, his father shows him what to do.
12 Then Cory’s father raises his hand to the square, says the prayer, and baptizes him by immersion.
13 Cory’s family is very proud of him, especially Grandma and Grandpa.
14 After the baptism is performed, Cory and his father leave the baptismal font. Next fast meeting Cory will be confirmed a member of the Church and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.

Now let me divert for just a moment to a modern story. Two of my colleagues in the Church Educational System were in the highlands of Guatemala training our seminary teachers. They happened upon a man very much like the one in the picture. He had a large bundle of firewood strapped on his back. They stopped and spoke with him for a time, then one asked if he would mind if they took his picture with the other. He was pleased to do so. As they stood for the photo, the photographer saw that the Guatemalan, who was quite a bit shorter than the America, had his face in shadow. “Ask him if he will raise his head a little,” he called.

What do you think happened next as this little man raised his head and smiled? That's right, he nearly fell over backwards. With a mecapal you always have to keep your head down, looking at the ground.

Illustrated by Sal Velluto and Eugenio Mattozzi
Ever since he was a boy, Wilford Woodruff wanted to know which church was true. When he was 26 years old, he still had not joined any church. He lived with his brother Azmon on his farm.
Wilford: Heavenly Father, help me to know how to live my life.
On December 29, 1833, two Mormon missionaries stopped at Azmon’s house. He and Wilford were both away working, but Azmon’s wife was home.
Missionary: God has restored His Church upon the earth, and we would like to tell you more about it.
Azmon’s wife: My husband and brother-in-law are not home right now, but we would definitely be interested in hearing more.
The missionaries rented the local schoolhouse that afternoon. They passed out notices inviting anybody who wanted to learn more about the gospel to come to a meeting that evening.
When Wilford got home from working, his sister-in-law told him about the meeting. He immediately turned his horses around and started to the schoolhouse, praying the whole way to know whether or not the missionaries were true followers of Christ.
Azmon’s wife: But, Wilford, what about supper?
Wilford: These men could be the answer to my prayers! I must go.
Wilford arrived at the schoolhouse, which was packed with people. His brother Azmon was already there. Wilford couldn’t find an empty chair, so he sat on one of the writing desks where he could see and hear everything.
Missionary: I bear strong testimony of the divine authenticity of the Book of Mormon. I also know that Joseph Smith is a prophet who has come to fulfill a great mission here on earth.
Wilford: I can feel the Spirit telling me that these are men of God.
After the missionaries were finished speaking, they asked members of the congregation if they would like to stand and say anything. Immediately, Wilford stood up and told everyone that he knew the missionaries were speaking the truth.
Wilford: The Lord urges me to bear testimony of the truth of this message. Do not oppose these men, for they are true servants of God. They have preached to us the pure gospel of Jesus Christ.
Two days later Wilford and his brother Azmon were baptized.

Near Christmastime I entered an art contest with students from my area. I drew a picture of an angel appearing to shepherds, telling them the joyous news of Christ’s birth. I was delighted to learn that I was one of the finalists and that my art would be displayed at a local museum, but sad when I learned that the awards ceremony was going to be on Sunday.
When my parents asked me what I thought I should do about the ceremony, I said that we shouldn’t go because it was on Sunday. My family and I had a great time visiting the museum on Saturday to see my picture, and my award was mailed to me the next week.
I am happy that I chose to keep the Sabbath day holy. My testimony grew that day because I knew I had chosen the right. I know that Heavenly Father blesses us when we keep His commandments.

Many years prior to my cousin's death my own life was nearly forfeit as the result of a boating accident. When I was 18 years old, I took part in a white water rafting trip on the magnificent Green River in northeastern Utah. With the river swollen by fresh snow melt and by an icy surge of water released from the base of the Flaming Gorge Dam, it promised to be a fast-paced, adrenaline-pumping adventure - just the thing that every young man dreams of!

Unfortunately, the adventure nearly cost me my life. Inadequate training and poor communication between our crew caused us to get badly hung up as we passed through some particularly rough rapids. A series of bad decisions by panicking raft-mates resulted in my suddenly being catapulted from our vessel into the river's 40-degree water. I was immediately caught in the powerful flow of a chute where water raced between two large boulders and then sucked me into an underwater "hole" or "hydraulic" that spun me around until I nearly ran out of breath.

Bruised and disoriented, I eventually surfaced many yards from the raft and was again caught by the swift current that violently dragged me through the rocks and obstacles of a long series of whitewater rapids. When I finally saw a chance to escape, I tried to swim for shore; however, my extended struggles and the extremely cold water had completely sapped my strength and caused my muscles to cramp and seize up. Even when I somehow managed to get near the safety offered by the bank of the river, I could neither stand up, nor could I grab onto anything in order to save myself. The river's strong current tugged at me relentlessly and then carried me away again into another series of rapids.

I could no longer swim and only the limited buoyancy of my flimsy life vest now kept me afloat. Many minutes passed with no relief in sight as I tried to find my way through the foaming white water. All the while, I could feel the ice-cold river sucking the life from my body as my core temperature plummeted and I went into hypothermia. "So this is how it's going to end for me?" I remember thinking to myself. Through no fault of my own, it seemed that my mortal life would soon come to a close in the frigid waters deep in that beautiful canyon. Well beyond both shivering and any sense of numbness, I remember feeling very peaceful and sleepy, too tired to fight anymore and too spent to call for help from a raft I saw further down the river.

As the chill current carried me onward, I noticed that the people in that downstream raft had seen me, helpless and motionless in the water, and they had changed course and were paddling back upstream in my direction. Several anxious minutes passed as we neared each other. Finally, when I was right next to the raft but unable to even hang onto its side, willing hands and strong arms reached into the icy river and pulled my very cold and near lifeless form into the safety and warmth of their craft.

I have been a member of the Church now for one year, and I still have a lot of questions. Last Sunday I was called to be the teachers quorum president, and I wasn’t too sure of all the duties and responsibilities of a teacher. On Monday I received the May issue of the New Era. The article on the role of the teacher really answered a lot of my questions as did Brother Backman’s answer in Q and A. It came just in time!
Buzzy JohnsonSouth Pasadena, California

During the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic, Brother Wisan from Thailand felt prompted to share his feelings and impressions of what he was learning in his study of the Book of Mormon on his social media account. In one of his particularly personal posts, he shared a story of two Book of Mormon missionaries, Alma and Amulek.

His brother, Winai, although set in his religious beliefs, was touched by the post and responded, unexpectedly asking, “Can I get that book in Thai?”

Wisan wisely arranged for a copy of the Book of Mormon to be delivered by two sister missionaries, who began teaching his brother.

Wisan joined in virtual lessons, during which he shared his feelings about the Book of Mormon. Winai learned to pray and study with a truth-seeking spirit, to accept and embrace the truth. Within months, Winai was baptized!

Wisan later said, “We have a responsibility to be an instrument in the hands of God, and we must be always ready for Him to do His work in His way through us.” Their family miracle came because Wisan simply shared the gospel in a normal and natural way.

Amid my despair, I remembered a time that our ward held an activity called “Christmas in Bethlehem.” Ward members came dressed up as if they were living at the time Jesus was born. Erica, who was four years old at the time, wore a hand-me-down long, white dress and a scarf wrapped around her head. The culmination of the evening was a reenactment of the Nativity in a mock stable decorated with bales of hay and a manger. A young couple with their newborn played the parts of Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus.
As we gathered around the nativity, I noticed that Erica was missing from my side. I panicked until I caught a flash of her white dress near the nativity. Then my panic shifted from fear for her welfare to fear that she would disrupt the scene. I was about to call out to her, but I paused and watched as she made her way to the manger.
Erica quietly knelt next to Mary and looked up at her as if to get her permission. Then Erica reached out and tenderly caressed the sleeping baby. I was not the only one who noticed. Others soon quieted and watched as she knelt close to the baby. A tender feeling permeated the group as they realized that this baby was the Christ child for Erica.
In my grief, this Christmas memory brought feelings of peace and comfort as I recalled my young daughter’s devotion. My mind had been full of questions about life and death—questions that didn’t seem to matter as much before Erica’s death. As I pondered the Resurrection and the Crucifixion, I identified with Mary. She loved her newborn Son, and she later endured terrible pain and anguish as she witnessed His suffering and death. Christ was not spared the cross, and Mary was not spared her grief.

Each of us remembers with affection the teachers of our youth. I think it amusing that my elementary school music teacher was a Miss Sharp. She had the capacity to infuse within her pupils a love for music and taught us to identify musical instruments and their sounds. I well recall the influence of a Miss Ruth Crow who taught the subject of health. Though these were Depression times, she ensured that each sixth-grade student had a dental health chart. She personally checked each pupil for dental health and made certain that through public or private resources, no child went without proper dental care. As Miss Burkhaus, who taught geography, rolled down the maps of the world and, with her pointer, marked the capital cities of nations and the distinctive features of each country, language, and culture, little did I anticipate or dream that one day I would visit these lands and peoples.

Brother Ayerdis currently serves as bishop of the Brooklyn Second Ward, where meetings are conducted in Spanish. He recalls the day when he took his family to see the judge who would grant them permanent residency in the United States: “Our children sat beside us on the long bench—quiet, like angels.” The judge thought that New York would corrupt the children and said to the family, “What a shame that you had to bring your lovely children here.” Sister Ayerdis responded, “We may have left our furniture, our house, and our clothes behind in our native land, but we did bring our traditions.”

Let me give you an example. A young married friend of mine lost his little daughter in a tragic accident. In the months that followed, with the loneliness, the asking “why,” and the sadness, doubt began to enter his life. He told me that he wasn’t sure what he believed anymore. I suggested to him that in this difficult time he might want to yield to his doubts a little less and trust the words of the Savior and the Savior’s chosen vessels a little more. My friend pored over the scriptures, the promises of the Savior, and the bold, reassuring witness of the living prophets. He held fast to their sure testimony of the Savior when his own seemed to falter. He held fast to the iron rod. With time, the darkness dissipated, the tree came back into view, and he partook of the precious fruit of the Atonement.

Toward the end of his talk President Monson gave us all an invitation. He said, "Ask yourselves, ‘Have I rescued anyone recently?' "

A week later I was in a meeting where we discussed President Monson's talk on rescuing, and one Area Seventy related that he had always tried to visit less-active members when he presided at stake conferences. The next day I flew to Portland to conduct an auxiliary training session. I asked Elder Brinkerhoff, the Area Seventy who hosted me in that city, if we might be able to visit a less-active member following the training session. He immediately thought of a couple he had been home teaching. He said, "Last Sunday they came to sacrament meeting in our ward for the first time."

We visited their home. They were a pure-hearted couple who, for some unknown reason, had become less active. The wife looked at me at one point and said, "Brother Osguthorpe, you probably don't know this, but we went to sacrament meeting for the first time last week." I asked her about her impressions of the meeting. I found it important that she did not mention the messages that had been given from the pulpit; she focused on the members and their friendship. She said, "I was surprised at how many friends we had in this ward even though this was our first time at sacrament meeting. So many people came up to us and were so glad to see us." Then she got tears in her eyes. "I just didn't know we had so many friends."

Elder Brinkerhoff then let them know how much it had meant to him that they had attended, and I asked the wife, "So why do you think Elder Brinkerhoff cares so much?" And again with tears in her eyes, she responded, "Because he loves us."

Elder Brinkerhoff had been meeting with this couple for some time. He had been extending all three types of invitations--invitations that challenge, invitations that befriend, and invitations that rescue. And the couple had finally begun to respond to the invitations. When Elder Brinkerhoff extended these invitations, perhaps it did not always look like teaching. Maybe the couple didn't always feel like he was presenting formal lessons. But in the truest sense, this was gospel teaching at its very best. They were learning key doctrines. They were responding to invitations to action. And they were experiencing the promised blessings.

On the second night of my stake’s Young Women camp, we had a big rainstorm and tornado. My ward had about 24 young women attending the camp with two leaders, and we all had to fit into one small cabin for protection. The rain was falling hard, and the wind was getting worse. I had to continually remind myself of the prayer for safety our stake president had offered earlier. Our ward also said our own group prayer in our cabin, and I said my own personal prayers.
A lot of girls were scared, and it was easy to see why. Our cabin was not very sturdy, and we were right by a river. In about 20 minutes the storm got so bad that the whole stake had to run from their ward cabins to the counselors’ cabins, which were on higher ground. My stake president said another prayer, and we sang hymns, Primary songs, and camp songs in an attempt to comfort ourselves. Yes, we were scared, but we felt that everything would be all right. Half an hour later it was OK to go back to our ward cabins.
We later found out what had happened to the tornado that night. It had split into two storms. One of them went around us to the right and the other to the left. What we got wasn’t even the worst of it!
I know that God heard our prayers that night and that He protected us from the worst of the storm. Why would a tornado split unless God needed it to? I know that in the storms of life, we can always pray to Heavenly Father and He will hear and answer us, giving us the courage and protection we need to make it safely through.

When the Rabasto family joined the Church about four years ago, they devoted their whole hearts to it. After moving to the Bahamas from the Philippines, their dad, Adolfo, was called to the branch presidency. They hold regular family home evening. Archie and Roselle, the two high schoolers in the family, both attend seminary every day. They read the scriptures daily as a family. Rinna, the oldest sister in the family, is a student at Brigham Young University.

What the family loves most about the gospel is the Christmas present they received last year. During the holiday break, the family took a trip to the temple in Orlando, Florida, to be sealed.

“I felt really excited to be in the temple,” says Archie. “I remember my sisters crying, and I felt happy and peaceful.”

From Orlando, the family said good-bye to Rinna, since she was leaving for college. They miss her, of course, but they say they feel calm about her being so far away in Utah, since they know they’ll always be a family, no matter where they go.

“Everyone in the temple kept telling us how great we looked with our white clothes and jet-black hair,” says Roselle. “We felt great, too. You could feel the air-conditioning in the temple, but I felt a warmth inside my heart. The feelings I had there were indescribable.”

Still another example, closer to home, is that of Elder Richard L. Evans, deceased, formerly of the Twelve, who for many years was the voice of the Spoken Word on Temple Square. Several years ago, in attending a conference in the Salt Lake Bonneville Stake, he brought with him detailed instructions about a new program. Realizing his words on administrative matters would carry little weight because of his sketchy experience in that field, he reviewed the material in the most brief way and explained that the handout he intended to leave behind would provide the details. He then made this comment, which I have never forgotten: “I know what I am. I am a microphonist and a pulpiteer.”

Some, because they lack faith or understanding of the eternal plan, become bitter and lose hope. One such was a 19th-century writer who achieved both success and wealth with his dazzling wit and writing style. His wife came from a religious family, and he wanted to have faith in God but wasn’t really sure God existed. Then he was hit by a series of crushing blows. In 1893 a national financial crisis left him deeply in debt. His oldest daughter died while he was on a speaking tour. His wife’s health failed, and she died in 1904. His youngest daughter died in 1909. His own health declined. His writing, which had formerly been so full of sparkle, now reflected his bitterness. He became progressively depressed, cynical, and disillusioned and remained so until his death in 1910. With all his brilliance, he lacked the inner strength to deal with adversity and simply resigned himself to his misfortunes.
It’s not so much what happens to us but how we deal with what happens to us. That reminds me of a passage from Alma. After a long war, “many had become hardened,” while “many were softened because of their afflictions.” The same circumstances produced opposite responses. The writer who lost so much was not able to draw from the well of faith. Each of us needs to have our own storehouse of faith to help us rise above the troubles that are part of this mortal probation.