Gospel Story Finder

There are bodies all over the place.
And chassis. And engines.
The air shivers with the shrilling of sanders, punctuated by the stuttering chatter of impact wrenches. During a lull, you hear the distant hiss of a spray gun. Somewhere, a compressor begins to chug. The tang of fresh paint hangs heavy.
Look around and you see that this is more than just an ordinary body shop for patching crumples and dents. That tall, square shape in the open paint booth is a 1927 Studebaker. There is a classic red 1956 T-Bird just a few feet to your left. This shop in tiny Glade, Kansas, just south of the Nebraska border, is known across the U.S. for the quality of its auto restoration work.
Outside, in the bright Kansas sunlight, 16-year-old Dean Kester from nearby Phillipsburg alternately scrapes and sands at a patch of filler on a 1969 Camaro destined for the racing circuit. Unlike the nearly finished cars inside his Uncle Ron’s shop, this car is still a dull primer gray. But the process of restoration is under way, and what is there is solid and sound and shows great promise. Just like Dean.
Before they were brought here, each of the cars was just sitting somewhere, slowly deteriorating. Dean will tell you frankly that two years ago, he was sort of the same way.
Dean had been baptized at age eight, but he and his family drifted into inactivity. It didn’t help that he was the only LDS kid in his school.
“Everybody was giving me a bad time about the Word of Wisdom and going to church all the time. Because I wanted to be like my friends, I started doing everything they were doing. I did some stupid things.”
It all came to a head just before Dean’s 15th birthday. “I had a driving permit and then a restricted license when I was 14,” he explains. “One weekend my parents had gone to Salina to get some things. Everybody else was taking their cars out and driving around. I figured I wouldn’t get caught.” The car he totalled was the 1960 Falcon that he and his dad had spent two years restoring. That hurt even more than the fines and loss of his license.
“I don’t know,” Dean reflects. “I was just trying to be like everybody else and I messed up. That’s when Mom decided that we needed to do something. And so we started going back to church.”
“My mom did a great thing for me. I have to give her a lot of credit,” Dean acknowledges. It was in his small branch in Phillipsburg, Kansas, that Dean found the help he needed to start his own personal restoration process.
Dean also gives a lot of credit to Steve Horton, the former Young Men president who is now his branch president. “Brother Horton helped me out with learning what I did was wrong and how to repent and become worthy again.” The other members of the branch are great, too, giving him rides to activities, being friends and good listeners.
It wasn’t easy to get back into the church-going habit. “I was used to sleeping in on Sundays,” he says. So what has it all done for him? Dean grins as he says, “It’s done a whole lot. I feel a lot better about myself. I always told people I was this really great person so people would like me. Even when I was first coming back to church, I was saying that stuff. But then my mom helped me again. She said, ‘If you want people to think something of you, you’ve got to do it; you can’t just say it.’ And so I started trying to act the way I wanted people to think of me and to remember me.”
When you restore a car, the changes go deep. It isn’t enough just to sand and prime and paint. You go right down to solid, bare metal. What isn’t sound gets replaced.
For Dean, starting with bare metal has meant a number of things. He’s learned to live the Word of Wisdom. He’s learned to serve and is now first assistant in his priests quorum presidency, eagerly looking for ways to help activate other youth. Going to the temple to do baptisms for the dead has also been a real blessing for Dean. “That really strengthened my testimony,” he says. In fact, he has challenged his whole family—his dad, Vernon; his mom, Linda; and his brothers, Nathan and Kevin—to get ready to go to the temple as a family. And he keeps working on them.
“He’s changing all of us, getting us more and more involved in the Church,” says his dad.
None of this means that Dean is through working on himself, of course. For example, there’s the matter of school. “I’m not a straight-A student,” he laughs. “But I’m getting better. In the eighth grade I had that same old problem of wanting to be like everybody else,” he goes on to explain. “All the kids that I thought were my friends were just trying to get by. Well, when I started coming back to church, I decided that I wanted to be myself, so I started getting better grades. I’m just now getting out of the habit of doing only what I have to to pass a course I don’t like. But this last semester I did really great. It was one of my best report cards in a long time.”
As he openly answers questions about himself and his feelings, Dean continues to work on the Camaro, shaping and smoothing it, bit by bit—just like he’s shaping and smoothing himself with the help of people like his parents and branch president. Among the things he’s still working on are his own feelings about a mission. “I know I should go,” he says, “and I’m saving money for a mission.”
He’s quiet for a minute, working harder at a stubborn piece of body filler. The Kansas wind continues to ripple the rolling wheat fields on the other side of the road. The only sounds are the rasp of sandpaper, the metallic noises from inside the shop, the passing of trucks on the highway. Then Dean continues:
“Of course, two years ago, if somebody would’ve asked me if I was going on a mission, I would have laughed. But now, it’s like, sure, I want to go on a mission. I just don’t know when. By the time mission age comes, I’ll probably go.” The more he talks, the more you hear in his voice that he really does know. But it is a big step to come right out and say it.
And that’s okay. Dean has already taken some big steps. Like the Camaro, he isn’t finished yet. But he’s solid. And he’s taking shape. And he shows the promise of being a winner in the biggest race of all.

As Salt Lake City has hosted the 2002 Winter Olympic and Paralympic Games, we have seen a partial fulfillment of many prophecies. The nations of the earth and many of their leaders have come. They have seen us serving alongside our friends in this community and our neighbors of other faiths. They have seen the light in our eyes and felt the clasp of our hands. “The mountain of the house of the Lord,” with its brightly lit spires, has been witnessed by 3.5 billion people around the world. The nations have heard the glorious sound of this Tabernacle Choir. Hundreds of thousands have attended a live production in this auditorium entitled The Light of the World: A Celebration of Life—Spirit of Man, Glory of God, which included a declaration of our belief in Jesus Christ. I humbly express gratitude that by these and many other means, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints continues to be brought “forth out of obscurity and out of darkness.”
Throughout the Olympics there have been many expressions of light, such as the Olympic flame; the child of light; and the theme, “Light the Fire Within.” Perhaps the most memorable light was found in the eyes of the competitors themselves. But what moved us most was not the competition or the spectacle. It was the deeper truth these things symbolized—the source of the light within each of us.

All these experiences were a fulfillment of a blessing I had received before leaving on my mission that said I would bring many people into the Church who would become great leaders. But now I was facing a transfer that I was not excited about, completely unaware of what was in store for me in my new area. The transfer was to Agoura Hills, California. I believed my mission president was an inspired man, but why Agoura Hills? The area was very affluent but very low in baptisms. You could count on one hand the baptisms in that area for the past several years. I had been one of the top baptizers in the mission for several months, but now all that would probably change. Then I remembered the words from a song that was sung at my farewell: “I will go where you want me to go, dear Lord.” So I went.
It is every convert’s dream to find the missionaries who baptized him and let them know about the change they brought to his life with the gospel. I also had that dream, especially because so many members of my family had been baptized after the elders left our area. I was now serving a successful mission. I had a sister attending Ricks College, another sister on a scholarship at BYU, and a brother and a sister both preparing to go on missions. I had lost track of the elders who had converted me. I wanted to find them and let them know how many lives they had touched.
My second Sunday in Agoura Hills, just before sacrament meeting started, a man in the ward came up to me and asked me about myself. I told him I was from Wyoming, and he said they had sent a son on a mission to Wyoming. A sensation of electricity ran through my body, but I knew it was not likely that this was one of the elders that I knew. So I asked, “What mission? The Colorado, Utah, or Montana mission?”
He said his son had served in the Billings Montana Mission, and when I asked him if he had ever been in Lander, Wyoming, where I was converted, the man answered yes again. I asked him a few dates and names and soon discovered that the man I was talking with was the father of one of the elders who had converted me. I said, “Your son is one of the elders responsible for bringing me and my family into the Church.” The man immediately introduced his wife, and tears filled her eyes as she realized that she was seeing a direct result of the sacrifices she and her family had made to send their son on a mission. Brother Miller introduced me to other members of the ward, and every time he told them who I was he choked up. I sat in sacrament meeting with tears streaming down my face as I thought of the mysterious ways the Lord had worked in my life. Who could have predicted that Elder Miller would come to my home and I would go to his almost nine years later?
I was able to see Elder Miller again, and he looked the same except for the three little daughters clinging to his leg. I finally had the chance to tell him thank you. He too was overcome with emotion as he told me what a feeling of satisfaction he had, seeing someone he had taught having as much success in the gospel as my family and I were.

These words in a priesthood blessing I received during a low week have also helped me understand faith: “I bless you with understanding and knowledge that God … will give you those things that will not only be for your good but … help you become all that He wants you to be. Those will not always be easy blessings, for our struggles and adversity are the things that make us grow.”

The happiness those gifts and acts of kindness brought my family made me think that someone I knew could probably use some extra happiness. A few years later, when Christmas rolled around again, I decided to repeat the project myself. I chose to help a mentally handicapped girl at my junior high. She had red hair that hung to her shoulders, and she seemed to smile all the time.
Unfortunately, she never received friendliness in return from the kids at school. They would criticize her while she was standing just two feet away because they thought she couldn’t understand their sarcasm. I knew she was hurt by this though, because she would run home alone after school to avoid the other junior high students.
I figured she needed a boost, so I planned to smuggle small gifts like a gingerbread sleigh, hairpins, and personalized stationery to her with notes about how special I thought she was. Unfortunately, as soon as I began my project, I was bombarded with homework, special projects, piano recitals, and Christmas preparations. Sometimes I had to stay up until 2:00 A.M. getting everything done and then get up at 5:45 A.M. for seminary. But I decided this project was worth the extra work it required of me.
I spent long hours gathering and preparing her gifts. I took her quotes and riddles along with the presents and sneaked over to her house late at night delivering my surprises. When it was all over, I was exhausted from the effort on top of all my other responsibilities, but I was happy because I knew it was worth all my extra work. The sacrifice had truly been enjoyable.
Words can’t really describe the calm and clear feeling I had knowing that I had done what we have all been asked to do. I finally understood the note from our secret friend about the best holiday season, thanks to us. I felt like I had repaid the secret friend that helped my family by doing my part to carry on the tradition of service.
These feelings would have been enough reward, but I was given even more. After I finished my project, I saw the little red-headed girl running toward me down the hall. She was carrying a homemade doll I had given her on top of all her books. She showed it to me proudly and said, “It’s from my secret sister. I need you to help me find out who she is.” It was a wonderful feeling to know that although she would never find out who gave her those presents, my service changed her Christmas like the service given me had changed mine.

“If most of the information you get comes from social or other media, your ability to hear the whisperings of the Spirit will be diminished.”1
My heart seemed to stop at these words from President Russell M. Nelson in his closing remarks of the October 2021 general conference.
These days, I see divisive views about gospel truths on social media. Before this conference, I had been running into more confusing ideas than ever before. They were often posted by influencers (users with many followers who have gained a reputation for their knowledge of a specific topic) and friends (most of whom are members of the Church).
The overall message on their posts could be summed up as:
“We don’t have to believe everything about the gospel—we can choose what commandments and principles work best with our lives.”
Many faithful people I looked up to were sharing this view, and my heart felt divided because a lot of them did have intriguing ideas.
But hearing President Nelson’s statement brought a profound question to mind:
Who am I following?
“Jesus Christ—and His prophets—of course!” was what I wanted to answer.
But then I considered who I was following, especially on social media. I realized that I had been searching for answers to spiritual questions from influencers and people who shared my concerns more than I had been seeking personal revelation through prayer, scripture study, and temple attendance
Now that was a humbling moment.
We are warned in the last days “that man should not counsel his fellow man, neither trust in the arm of flesh” (Doctrine and Covenants 1:19).
I was unsettled when I realized how often I was doing just that.
With this in mind, I considered the following questions:
When I was not seeking answers from the Lord’s credible sources (through the scriptures, His prophets, the temple, or the Spirit), I wasn’t hearing Him, and I started to resonate more with answers proposed by those I was following on social media.
But knowing that Heavenly Father loves all His children perfectly and that He has called His prophets to guide us back to Him, I realized I needed to seek truth through them and the Spirit rather than through snappy social media posts.
Through much prayer and pondering, I’ve realized that following Him means obeying His gospel with my whole heart, not just half-heartedly, longing for the gospel to change.
If the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ is meant to help us become like Him, whose life was far from easy, perhaps that means that being His disciple won’t always be easy or convenient either.
But isn’t that the point of growth and refinement? It’s never the most comfortable process, but it is worth it.
And those changes could include a change of lifestyle, of perspective, of heart, and even of those we follow on social media. For me, it’s been all the above.
Despite many who are asking us to follow them, we can choose to follow the One who matters most. I have reaffirmed my desire to follow Him completely even if I don’t understand every commandment, every part of Church history, or every policy completely at times. As I’ve done so, I have felt His loving, enabling power bring joy to my soul—He is truly the person I trust to shed light on the truth in the face of conflicting topics and divisive ideas. He is the one who gives me hope and envelopes me in perfect love.
I know He can do the same for you if you choose to follow Him.

As I walked, I remembered vividly a story about two Mormon missionaries during the Mexican Revolution.
“Will you deny the truth?”
“No. Never.”
“Blindfold?”
“No. I don’t need one.”
I imagined walking bravely to the wall in front of the firing squad. I had reached the gate on the picket fence that surrounded Mrs. Gleaves’s house. I turned around and faced the firing squad. The guns exploded.

Age 60
Mayor
First counselor in bishopric
The tsunami that struck Samoa in September 2009 took my grandson. It took my sister’s son. I lost my home, two cars, and almost everything I owned. Nearly our entire village is moving into the hills so that this doesn’t happen again.
I know God loves those who survived because, through the Church, He has given us new homes, food, and water. I know He loves those who did not survive because, through His power, we can be together again. We have been blessed.

I sneak up behind my mother,
Moving quietly on my toes.
My hand begins to hover,
And I quickly grab her nose.
I poke my thumb between my knuckles,
Hold my fist beneath her chin.
She tickles while I chuckle,
And we both begin to grin.
“I got your nose! I got your nose!”
I yell and dance around.
She claps her hands and then she sits
Right down upon the ground.
“Oh, dear!” she cries. “How will I smell?
How will I face my friends?
Without my nose, I won’t look well
Or know if dinner blends.”
She looks so genuinely sad
I start to feel some pity.
If her nose will make her glad,
Her smile will make her pretty.
I unfold my hand before her face
And let her take her nose.
She puts it in its proper place
And off to work she goes.

While I was serving as president of the Guatemala Guatemala City North Mission, we received several new full-time missionaries. As I introduced myself to these missionaries, I told them the story of my conversion and baptism.
After I had related my story and was interviewing the new missionaries, one of them, Elder Benjamin Pixton, told me that David Tree was his grandfather. What a wonderful surprise! Elder Tree had baptized a nine-year-old boy in Glendive, Montana, and nearly 50 years later that boy was called as his grandson’s mission president.
When Elder Pixton’s parents and grandparents came to pick him up at the end of his mission, I had the pleasure of meeting David Tree again. During our visit, I showed him the Book of Mormon—with a message and promise he had written—that he had given to me the day I was baptized.
Elder Pixton’s mother told him that her father hadn’t talked much about his mission. He felt that he hadn’t been very successful because he baptized only two people: a single woman and a nine-year-old boy.
In gratitude I told him that because of his efforts, the rest of my family had eventually joined the Church and that my brother and I, along with our nine sons, had served full-time missions. Because of his missionary service, I said, countless people had been taught the gospel and had joined the Church.

Chris enthusiastically shared the gospel and invited friends to seminary. He spoke openly of his desire to serve a full-time mission. As he did so, his family noticed a change in him.
“He made up his mind he wanted to serve a mission,” says his father, Rod Yokoyama, “so he wanted to change his life and do all the things a missionary would be doing. It seemed like he was giving us more hugs and telling everyone about the gospel.”

A good friend of mine recently died in a tragic car accident. I have found comfort through coming unto Christ. I had to gain a testimony of Christ’s love for each one of us; I had to understand who we are as children of God; and most importantly I had to understand God’s plan and will for His children. As I turned to Him through scriptures, church, and Church materials, I was able to gain that testimony and feel peace and comfort. Especially helpful was the youth lesson titled “How can I find comfort when someone I care about dies?” All of the scriptures, articles, and videos referenced in this lesson are amazing and have changed my life.
Madilin N., 18, Iowa, USA

Then one day I found the book I had put on the closet shelf years before. And I began to read it. This time I found it interesting—so interesting that I began to tell my friends at work about it. Whether I was at home, at work, or at a movie, I couldn’t get it off my mind.
When I reached the point where I had to know if the book was really of God or of the devil, I considered praying about it but was afraid of being deceived. Then I read the scripture in Moroni 10:4–5 [Moro. 10:4–5]where we’re told to pray about what we have read in the Book of Mormon. I was still afraid the answer might come from Satan, but then a biblical scripture came to mind that alleviated that worry:
“What man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone?
“Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent?” (Matt. 7:9–10). I know that the answer that later came was indeed from God.

It wasn’t long after the October 2011 general conference that 14-year-old Courtney D. of South Dakota approached her stake Young Women president and asked if they could have an activity to learn how to do family history work. Courtney had been touched by a general conference talk by Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, particularly when he directed his message to the youth of the Church.
The stake Young Women president thought the activity was a good idea, and she suggested that Courtney prepare a presentation to give to her peers at youth conference, which was just three weeks away.
Courtney was a little overwhelmed—after all, she had never done any family history work before—but she agreed. Her mom and her younger sister Savannah were learning about family history work, so for the next three weeks on Tuesday nights, they went to the stake family history center and learned how to use FamilySearch.
Courtney, Savannah, and their mom spent time entering data from family records they received from Courtney’s great aunt. They found that no work had been done on her mom’s side. “We started finding a lot of things, and I was so excited!” she says.
Before Courtney started learning about family history, she had just assumed, as many of us do, that if she ever needed genealogical information, she would talk to her uncle, who, she says, “did a lot of the work for our family.”
But Courtney says that Elder Bednar’s talk helped her think about family history work in a different way. It was something she could be involved in.
“I actually really like history, so I had learned a little bit about family history, but never enough to actually do it,” she says. “When Elder Bednar told the youth that we need to do it—that we’ve basically been trained to do it with technology—I thought, ‘Really? I’m trained? That’s awesome.’” An invitation from an Apostle led Courtney to act.
But it wasn’t all ease and excitement. Courtney discovered that records didn’t exist for a lot of her ancestors, many of whom were born in Ireland but then moved to Massachusetts and New York in the United States.
By talking with extended family members—many of whom are not members of the Church—Courtney was able to gather a lot of information. It also brought the extended family members together, Courtney says. “I feel closer to them now than I did before. We’re an Air Force family and move a lot, so it’s hard for us to travel to where they live. We’d kept in touch on Facebook and with cards, but family history has given us another way to connect.”
The biggest surprise Courtney found in working alongside her mom and sister in family history work was how she felt. “It’s a peaceful thing,” she says. “Whenever I thought about the work we were doing, I felt super happy about it. I just felt glad. Our ancestors need the blessings they’ll have with baptism” and other ordinances.
She and her mom also spent time preparing the presentation that Courtney delivered to her peers at youth conference. It included statements from Elder Bednar’s talk and helpful ideas for how to set up an LDS Account (which you need in order to take family names to the temple) and get started in family history work.
Because of a blizzard, youth conference was postponed (Courtney gave her presentation when the event was rescheduled a couple months later), but the inclement weather didn’t keep Courtney from continuing with her new skills. She began preparing the names of the relatives she had identified for their temple work to be done in the Bismarck North Dakota Temple.
Courtney says that the most important thing she’s learned from her experience is that family history is a work everyone can be involved in.
“It isn’t just for older people. And it isn’t just for youth. It’s for everyone. You get blessings from it, including knowing that you can give yourself and your ancestors the chance to be together in heaven.”

Mine has been the opportunity to meet many wonderful men and women in various parts of the world. A few of them have left an indelible impression upon me. I share with you a story I spoke of some years ago. I met a naval officer from a distant nation, a brilliant young man who had been brought to the United States for advanced training. Some of his associates in the United States Navy, whose behavior had attracted him, shared with him at his request their religious beliefs. He was not a Christian, but he was interested. They told him of the Savior of the world, of Jesus Christ born in Bethlehem, who gave his life for all mankind. They told him of the appearance of God, the Eternal Father, and the resurrected Lord to the boy Joseph Smith. They spoke of modern prophets. They taught him the gospel of the Master. The Spirit touched his heart, and he was baptized.
He was introduced to me just before he was to return to his native land. We spoke of these things, and then I said: “Your people are not Christians. What will happen when you return home a Christian, and, more particularly, a Mormon Christian?”
His face clouded, and he replied, “My family will be disappointed. They may cast me out and regard me as dead. As for my future and my career, all opportunity may be foreclosed against me.”
I asked, “Are you willing to pay so great a price for the gospel?”
His dark eyes, moistened by tears, shone from his handsome brown face as he answered, “It’s true, isn’t it?”
Ashamed at having asked the question, I responded, “Yes, it’s true.”
To which he replied, “Then what else matters?”
These are questions I should like to leave with you: “It’s true, isn’t it? Then what else really matters?”

Over the years I had become comfortable with the idea that the Lord had given me my quota of trials; I thought my life would be spent caring for my children with their special needs. I did not resent this idea and even felt great peace and joy as I looked to my future. We had accepted the challenges and disabilities of both our sons, along with raising our two beautiful daughters. We even felt the strong desire to add to our family by adopting three more children with special needs. Each time we entered the adoption process, we experienced miracles as we were guided through each step of the way. There have been tremendous challenges but also tremendous blessings.

You’re at a fun party, but then people start to drink. You want to go home, and your friend says:
You’re right, we’d better go home. I’ll call my mom to pick us up.
Don’t be such a goody-goody. A little drink never hurt anyone.
Why don’t you stay and have a little fun? You don’t have to drink.

I loved making the forest scene and learning about Enos (March 2020). I learned I can pray anytime.
Bethany S., age 6, Tasmania, Australia

Around the same time, Junko Saijo, a Mia Maid, was with her friends when one of them lit a cigarette and offered it to Junko.
Fortunately, Yuriya dropped the comic book. Junko refused the cigarette. And Sho, a priest, has tried to be careful in choosing his friends.
The first time you stand up to someone can be the hardest, but it’s usually easier after that. “Cigarettes aren’t good for you,” Junko Saijo told a friend after the girl offered her a cigarette. “My friend didn’t stop smoking, but she has left me alone about it since then.”

I recently visited with youth in Paraguay, Uruguay, Chile, and Argentina during their For the Strength of Youth conferences. Thousands and thousands of young men and women spent a week strengthening their love of the Savior and then returned home to their families and friends, radiating the light and love of Christ.