Gospel Story Finder

When I was eleven years old, I began a paper route. It was hard work, but I enjoyed it and was still delivering papers five years later.
One day the manager of the newspaper offered me a job as assistant manager of circulation for the newspaper. My duties would include supervising other newspaper carriers and helping them sell subscriptions. In addition, every day after school and after delivering my route, I would spend a few hours at the office, answering complaints on the telephone. Between phone calls, I would be allowed to do my homework. The new job would include a raise—triple what I had been making as a newspaper carrier!
I was thrilled. I had been saving money for my mission, and I really felt that the Lord was blessing me for keeping the commandments, including paying my tithing faithfully and keeping the Sabbath day holy.
A year and a half later, the manager approached me again. Plans were being made to begin a Sunday edition of the newspaper. He told me enthusiastically that I would be able to deliver my papers early on Sunday morning, then come into the office to answer the telephone from 7:00 A.M. to 2:00 P.M. There would, of course, be another pay increase.
The manager saw that I was hesitating. Knowing that I was an active member of the Church, he said, “you may be thinking of not accepting this extra responsibility, but if you don’t take the job, you’ll lose your regular paper route and your weekday job. Many of the other paperboys would give anything to have your job. If you don’t take it, you’re fired.”
As I went home that day, I was discouraged and confused. I knew that I had been obeying the commandments, and I couldn’t understand why I would have to make such a difficult decision. I talked to my father and to my bishop, but they both said that the decision was up to me. My dad said, “I don’t know the answer, but I know someone who does [meaning the Lord]. Ask Him.”
After I prayed and struggled for two days, I knew what I had to do. I knew that while there are some people who have to work on Sunday, I didn’t have to and shouldn’t. When I told the manager of my decision, he was angry, told me I was fired and to come in Saturday to pick up my last paycheck, then stomped away. I really wondered if I had made a correct decision, as it would make it hard to earn enough money for my mission.
When I went to pick up my last check, I found the manager waiting for me. “Please forgive me,” he said. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have tried to make you go against your beliefs and break a commandment of the Lord. I have found another young man who is willing to work on Sunday. You can keep your job. Will you?” He then added. “You will find in your check next week and for as long as you work for me the amount of money you would have received had you worked on Sunday.”
Of course I did keep the job. I know that the Lord blesses us for keeping his commandments. Be careful that you never compromise the principles you believe in. Remember to always trust in the Lord, and he will bless you for it.

Because I live in Shanghai, China, I had the opportunity to go with a school group to Sichuan Province in southwestern China to help build houses for victims of the earthquake that devastated the area a few years ago. We worked hard laying bricks, shoveling mortar, pushing wheelbarrows full of bricks, and handing bricks down “assembly lines” of people. By the second day my back ached, and my gloves were filled with holes. However, the trip was an unforgettable experience for me and strengthened my testimony of my own and each person’s individual worth, one of the Young Women values.
As I worked hard each day, I noticed that my belief in my own worth grew. I felt good about myself because I was doing things to improve the living situation of those less fortunate than I am.
We also had the opportunity to visit a school in the area. When we arrived, a crowd of cute little children came running toward us. When I saw all these wonderful little children, I recognized their individual worth also. They are all beautiful children of God, and I felt strongly that He loves and knows each of them.
Near the end of my trip we had the chance to go to a resort, where we were going to eat lunch. When we got there, however, we found that it had been destroyed in the earthquake. It was the worst destruction I have ever seen. It made me want to cry. The ceilings and walls of the buildings were caved in, the trees nearby had fallen, and there was rubble everywhere. A huge boulder had rolled down the mountain and crashed into the side of one building, causing the ceiling and the wall to cave in. There was a single shoe lying on one of the doorsteps.
As I thought about this and the fact that people had been killed in this disaster, I struggled to understand how Heavenly Father would let this happen. Didn’t He love them? Then I thought back to what we had discussed in Young Women class and realized that yes, He did love them. He knew and loved them each individually. Those who died that day were all children of God. Initially, it made me even sadder thinking about that. But then I realized that these people were in the spirit world and they could return to Heavenly Father again. This thought comforted me and gave me a feeling of peace.
I know that I am a child of God, with great individual worth. We are all children of our Heavenly Father, who knows us personally. He loves us with a love that is deeper and stronger than any of us could ever imagine. This understanding was planted deeply in my heart as I worked with and served among the people who had suffered so terribly in the Sichuan earthquake.

I was the first member of my family to join the Church. As an eight-year-old, I waited to feel somehow different because of my baptism. To be honest, the only thing I felt when I was brought out of the water was … well, dripping wet. I thought something more profound would happen when I was confirmed. However, after receiving the Holy Ghost, again I felt happy but certainly no different than I had just a few minutes before.
It wasn’t until the following day at fast and testimony meeting that I experienced what I now recognize as the influence of the Holy Ghost. A brother stood to bear his testimony and tell about the blessings of his membership in the Church. I felt a flood of warmth sweep over me. Even as an eight-year-old, I recognized that this was something different. I felt a peace descend on me, and I had the distinct feeling that Heavenly Father was pleased with me.

My father was the most excited among us to learn and share the truth. He used to wake up early in the morning to study the scriptures for over two hours every day. After work he went with the missionaries to visit our family, friends, and neighbors nearly every day. Seven months after we were baptized, 23 of my family and relatives became members of the Church. That was followed by the miracle of seeing 130 people baptized in the following year through my father’s member missionary work.

This glimpse in summary. It was in a school of instruction, the School of Prophets, that the Prophet asked that each in turn speak, that as the revelation says, all might not speak at once but “that every man may have an equal privilege” (D&C 88:122). The subject was faith. Scriptures were quoted. The last man to speak, as it happened, was Brother Kimball, who in effect said it’s all been said but I can say one thing, tell you a story. My daughter, Helen Mar, was standing near the table and her mother left her saying, “Don’t touch those dishes. Don’t break one of those or I will whip you.” Vilate left, and Helen Mar did what little children do when they are told not to do it. Not just a dish was broken. The whole table leaf collapsed. Now she went out, as she had watched her parents do, near a tree. We don’t know what she said, but it would have been simple enough. “Bless my mother that she won’t whip me.” Vilate returned. She saw the situation. She flared. She took Helen by the hand into the bedroom. She assumed the angle. And then she couldn’t go through with it. And the arms of Helen Mar came around her neck and she said, “Oh mother, I prayed that you wouldn’t. I’m sorry, sorry.” When Brother Kimball had finished, every man in the room, including Joseph, was in tears. And Joseph said, “Brethren [these are grown-up, strong, independent, willful, intelligent men], that is the kind of faith we need, the faith of a little child going in humility to its parent” (see Whitney, pp. 69–70). That sums it up.

My mother taught me from a very young age to be hardworking and to serve others. When I was six years old, my family helped in building a new chapel in Porto Alegre, Brazil. Back then, ward members and construction missionaries built the chapels for wards and branches.
I remember going with my family to help build the chapel. I carried bricks from one place to another. I poured water on top of bricks. I carried tools from one workstation to another. I remember working hard and knowing that my hard work would help others.

I remember as a youth walking with my mother up the dusty road to the bishop’s house in a day when we often paid tithing from our animals and produce. As we walked, I said, “Why do we take the eggs to the bishop?” She answered, “Because they are tithing eggs and the bishop receives the tithing of Heavenly Father.” My mother then recounted how each evening when the eggs were brought in, the first one went into a small basket and the next nine went into a large basket. I first learned the law of tithing from my beloved mother.

President Hinckley’s counsel about being true impressed one young man from Arizona.

“I have always thought about this,” wrote Scott Moore. “I have pondered about my past and about how loyal and true I have been to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I can remember that there have been many times when I could have spoken up and declared that I am a Latter-day Saint. After President Hinckley’s talk, I thought about my loyalty to the Church and how I could change myself to be better in this particular aspect of my life. The answer that came to my mind is that there should be no hiding myself and who I am when the opportunity arises.”

Scott went on to describe a time soon after President Hinckley’s talk when he was able to share his beliefs with some friends even though he was nervous they might not accept him after he did. But Scott’s friends were impressed with his beliefs, and he experienced the joy that comes with being true.

During the first year of my mission, my parents were not supportive about my missionary service. The Lord revealed to me while I was on my mission that my family was fine, and they would be taken care of. Then things changed all of a sudden. The last six to eight months of my mission my family was very supportive. They said they were receiving blessings, and they knew it was because of my serving a mission.

One Saturday night, I was on my way to pick up my friend Jon so we could watch a movie at a friend’s house. On my way there, I passed a house with a moving van parked outside. The house wasn’t in my neighborhood, but the thought came to me that I should stop and help the family move in. I shrugged the thought away because it was nearly 10:00 p.m. They were probably almost finished.
When Jon and I arrived at our friend’s house, the movie was halfway over. We were bored trying to figure out what was going on, so after only a few minutes, we decided to leave.
“Let’s go get some shakes,” Jon suggested.
On the way into town, I saw the house with the moving truck still parked outside.
“Should we help those people?” I asked.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Jon said.
I pulled over and we hopped out, trying not to think about how strange this would seem.
“Could you use a hand?” I called.
The family—a mother, a father, and two children—stared at us. “No. We can handle it by ourselves,” the father said. “But thanks.”
“Are you sure?” Jon asked.
The mother looked at us suspiciously. “Don’t you boys have anything better to do on a Saturday night?”
Jon and I looked at each other and shrugged. “Not really,” we said.
It took a few minutes to convince them that we really wanted to help, and they finally let us. Mostly heavy furniture was left, and I wondered how the four of them had planned to lift it all themselves.
When Jon and I left, the mother thanked us for such a nice welcome into their new neighborhood.
A few weeks later, she introduced herself to Jon’s mom in stake conference. She said, “Please thank your son and his friend again for helping us. They strengthened my faith.”
She explained that they had loaded the truck that morning and had driven all day. By the time they had arrived, they were exhausted. But they had wanted to finish moving so they could return the truck that night and avoid paying an extra day’s fee. The 12-year-old son had been so weary that he wanted to collapse. Shutting himself in the bathroom, he had prayed for a small miracle—the ability to help move all the remaining heavy furniture. Moments later, help had arrived.
I know that the Lord hears our prayers, no matter how small the request. Nothing feels better than to know that Jon and I were guided to answer a prayer that night.

Even though the pioneers came to the Salt Lake Valley in 1847, it wasn’t until nearly 50 years later that Utah became a state. Recently, youth in wards and stakes all over Utah gave their state the anniversary gift of their time and hard work.
The youth in the Pleasant View Utah Stake were no exception. They spent a hot summer Saturday cleaning up the 21st Street Pond in Ogden. After a big breakfast, the youth went to work building a railroad-tie barrier, painting a storage building, cleaning the grounds, landscaping and painting an office, constructing and installing park benches, pouring concrete pads, painting and installing picnic tables, removing an old fence, constructing two wheelchair ramps, and doing general cleanup around the pond.
It took most of the day, but the youth say they felt good giving something back to the place they call home. After all, how often do you turn 100?

For a number of years we have lived outside of the city. We have horses and other farm animals, including chickens. Some of the chickens are free to roam the barnyard. The children have to be alert to find where these chickens lay their eggs, for sometimes they are found in the haystack or in the woods or under the woodpile.
One spring a little speckled hen hid her nest under the manger in a small place where she could not be seen. None of us knew where she was, but we were sure that she must be sitting on a nest somewhere.
One day when I arrived home, the children came running to tell me that they had found the little hen and her nest. They had found the nest because the chicks had hatched and had begun to make little peeping noises.
They pulled me to the barn, and I carefully reached back under the hen and brought out a handful of little chicks. As the children gathered around, touching the soft little chicks, one of our daughters took a chick and held it carefully.
“That will certainly make a nice watchdog when it grows up, won’t it?” I asked. She looked at me like I didn’t know very much, telling her a chick would grow to be a dog.
I quickly corrected myself and said, “It won’t grow up to be a watchdog. It will be a nice riding horse, won’t it?”
She looked at me again with a puzzled expression, for even though she was only four years old, she knew that the little chicken would not grow up to be a dog or a horse or even a pheasant or turkey. Somehow she knew that the little chick would grow up to be either a hen or a rooster—much like its mother or father.

Take an interest in their lives and feelings. My friend Emily was surprised when her dad called to ask her opinion about a significant job change he was considering. While she hadn’t been totally unaware of her dad’s career earlier in life, Emily felt like this was the first time her dad had really sought out her opinion on a big decision. Emily was touched to be included and took it as a sign that their relationship was developing in healthy ways.

Recently I have been thinking about two significant callings I received as a priesthood holder in the Church.
The first of these callings came when I was a deacon. I attended with my family the branch of the Church in Frankfurt, Germany. We were blessed with many wonderful people in our little branch. One was our branch president, Brother Landschulz. I admired him a great deal, even though he always seemed to be rather serious, very official, and most of the time dressed in a dark suit. I remember as a young man joking with my friends how old-fashioned our branch president appeared.
It makes me laugh to think about this now because it is very possible that the youth of the Church today view me in a very similar way.
One Sunday, President Landschulz asked if he could speak with me. My first thought was, “What did I do wrong?” My mind raced over the many things I might have done that could have inspired this branch-president-to-deacon talk.
President Landschulz invited me into a small classroom—our chapel did not have an office for the branch president—and there he extended a call to me to serve as deacons quorum president.
“This is an important position,” he said, and then he took his time and described why. He explained what he and the Lord expected of me and how I could receive help.
I don’t remember much of what he said, but I do remember well how I felt. A sacred, divine Spirit filled my heart as he spoke. I could feel that this was the Savior’s Church. And I felt that the calling he had extended was inspired by the Holy Ghost. I remember walking out of that tiny classroom feeling quite a bit taller than before.
It has been nearly 60 years since that day, and I still treasure these feelings of trust and love.
As I was thinking back on this experience, I tried to remember just how many deacons there were in our branch at the time. To my best recollection, I believe there were two. However, this may be a huge exaggeration.
But it really didn’t matter whether there was one deacon or a dozen. I felt honored, and I wanted to serve to the best of my ability and not disappoint either my branch president or the Lord.
I realize now that the branch president could have merely gone through the motions when he called me to this position. He could have simply told me in the hallway or during our priesthood meeting that I was the new deacons quorum president.
Instead, he spent time with me and helped me understand not only the what of my assignment and new responsibility but, much more important, the why.
That is something I will never forget.

President James E. Faust, in his address of the Young Women general meeting in March, warned, “You young ladies may have a hard time buying a modest prom dress. May I suggest that you make your own?” (Ensign, May 2000, 97).
This is exactly what happened in the Salt Lake Stake.
To encourage the young women to dress modestly, the stake Young Women leaders decided to include a fashion show in a special night for Laurels and their dads, brothers, or other priesthood holders.
“It was a lot of hard work to adjust the pattern to cover my shoulders,” says Elaine Barnhurst of the 19th Ward, whose project was to make her medieval-style dress from a sheet and curtains. “But it was a fun night and really cool to know I had actually made it myself.”

In 2019 I was called to the Philippines Quezon City Mission. Serving there was like living a dream—I’d always loved the Filipino culture and really wanted to learn Tagalog. But my missionary experience also taught me the true nature of our heavenly parents, and when I returned home to Samoa last year, I felt a strong desire to see my family sealed to each other for time and all eternity.
We have some work to do before we can achieve that goal. My parents are still new to the gospel and continue to learn. My brother is still finding his path, exploring if a mission is in his future. Fiasili and I continue to persevere. We are determined to “press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men” (2 Nephi 31:20), as we strive to help deepen our family’s conversion.

I had a young missionary come in to visit with me as he returned from the Argentine. I knew his people back in Washington, and he had been kept over to help train some of the other missionaries, until he had been away from home for three years. And I said, “Craig, do you feel like it was a waste of time to be in the mission field, that you ought to have been home getting your education and getting ready to settle down?” He said, “Now listen, bishop, if the Brethren want to make me happy, just let them load me on the plane in the morning and let them send me back to the Argentine.” You can’t put that kind of feeling in the hearts of young people with money. The Lord who creates the feelings of the human breast is the only one who can put that kind of faith into the hearts of his people.

When I was given the assignment to speak in the priesthood session of general conference, I immediately thought of a wonderful Primary teacher. Her great desire was to prepare us to be worthy of receiving the priesthood. She grilled us on the requirements then in place for graduation from Primary—memorize the names of the members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and the Articles of Faith. She also made us a promise—if all of us could recite the thirteen Articles of Faith by memory, we could choose the place and go on an outing for our last class.
We decided on a special spot we liked to hike to on the rocky slopes just above the first dam at the entrance of Logan Canyon, in northern Utah. There was a small, flat space in these rocky cliffs that had a natural fireplace where you could cook hot dogs and roast marshmallows. When we chose the location, however, we did not consider our teacher, who was older and certainly not the athletic type. If we had thought about it more carefully, it might have occurred to us that she would have a difficult time making the hike. Her promise was her bond, however, and she gamely followed us.
First we climbed up the small hill. In our day there were no power lines to prevent access. With some help our teacher made it up the hill. Once over the top we dropped down into a rocky ridge to a place we called “Turtle Back.”
After we arrived, it took our teacher a little while to catch her breath. By the time we prepared to sit down and eat, she had recovered enough to teach us our final lesson. She told us how she had enjoyed teaching us in Primary for the last two years. She complimented us on how we had mastered the Articles of Faith. She could call out the number of any one of them, and we could quote it back to her. Then she said memorizing the Articles of Faith would mean nothing more than a lot of words unless we understood the doctrines and principles contained in them. She encouraged us to study the gospel doctrine taught in each of the Articles of Faith. She explained that the doctrine found in the Articles of Faith was divided into sections.
The power of our teacher’s words has been a source of inspiration to me because of the emphasis she placed on gospel study. The scriptures guide us to a standard of truth by which we can judge the knowledge we are receiving, whether it be true or false. True doctrine comes from God, the source and foundation of all truths. The teachings and concepts of true doctrine are found in the gospel of our Lord and Savior. False teachings come from Satan, the father of all lies. His desire is to pervert, change, and alter revealed truths. He wants to deceive us so some of us will lose our way along the journey back to our heavenly home.
My Primary teacher instilled in me a determination to study the doctrines of the kingdom. She taught me to seek the deep meaning contained in these simple Articles of Faith. She promised me that if I would invest in learning these sacred truths, the knowledge I acquired would change my life for the better, and I testify to you that it has.
After my teacher’s wonderful lesson on that mountain in Logan Canyon, we noticed that we had stayed a little longer than we had planned. The evening was drawing to a close, and we realized we had a problem.
My teacher had struggled to arrive at our special spot, but returning presented a major challenge for us. This only compounded the poor selection of a place for our outing. The climb back was difficult for us, but even more so for a person of her age.
As we struggled to help her back up the hill, two policemen appeared. The Primary president had sent them out to find us, fearing we were lost. The drama of the event and the lessons taught made it an unforgettable experience in my life.

Many people in the scriptures who went to the desert were humbled. When I moved to the United Arab Emirates, I thought my ward would be the same as my old one. The Church was the same, but my ward was different.
There were many people from other countries. The nearest temple was a long flight away. I’ve been humbled by this ward, from the sisters who stay late to clean the church to the brothers who check up on everyone. So I guess you could say I was humbled in the desert too.
Brooklyn R., 13, Abu Dhabi, UAE

Here in Salt Lake City in 1985, Bishop Steven Christensen, through no fault of his own, was cruelly and senselessly killed by a bomb intended to take his life. He was the son of Mac and Joan Christensen, the husband of Terri, and the father of four children. With his parents’ consent, I share what they learned from this experience. After this terrible deed, the news media followed members of the Christensen family around relentlessly. On one occasion this media intrusion offended one of the family members to the point that Steven’s father, Mac, had to restrain him. Mac then thought, “This thing will destroy my family if we don’t forgive. Venom and hatred will never end if we do not get it out of our system.” Healing and peace came as the family cleansed their hearts from anger and were able to forgive the man who took their son’s life.