Gospel Story Finder

On one occasion I was on a trip through the great forest of Oregon and saw a great giant lying low for no apparent cause, while all its companion trees were standing. On close examination I observed that for a long period of time a process had been going forward under the bark, out of sight. An insect was making a hole no larger than a pin, but cross sectioning through the great giant. A weak link had thus been created, and under some small pressure the giant went down and its weakness was exposed. I have been led to say how that is like human life. There are many men and women who seem fair above board, who seem from all outward appearances strong, but who are tolerating secret weaknesses and practices, thereby creating weak links that may be their undoing, leaving an open door for the enemy to assault them.

Eli, get your shoes on! We’re going to the store.
OK!
I need you to be a big helper at the store today.
Heavenly Father, please bless Mom. She’s having a really hard time.
Would you like to go ahead of me?
Oh, thank you! That’s so kind.
No problem. I remember what it’s like to have kids at the store.
Why did that lady let us go ahead?
She saw that we were having a hard time and wanted to help.
My prayer was answered. Awesome!
But she’s not the only one who helped me. You helped most of all!

As a young missionary serving in Strasbourg, France, Jan E. Newman had a special spiritual experience that strengthened his testimony and allowed him to feel Heavenly Father’s love. This experience came as he read the prophet Alma’s words in the Book of Mormon about planting the seed of the gospel in our hearts (see Alma 32:28; 33:22–23).
“I read that if you make room for that seed in your heart, it will grow, and you will actually feel these swelling motions,” Brother Newman said. “I remember reading that and the Spirit just testifying to me so strongly that it was true. I felt those swelling motions. I will never forget that as long as I live.”
This and other experiences helped solidify Brother Newman’s testimony of the gospel and prepared him for a lifetime of service as a husband, father, and disciple of Jesus Christ.

When seminary started my freshman year, I was pumped and ready for it—but that excitement lasted probably about a week and a half. By then I was just tired, and I was going to bed late and waking up so early. Every morning, I just thought, “This is such a bummer.” And even though seminary was held at my kitchen table in my own home, I didn’t want to go. It was becoming such a burden for me.

Eventually I said to myself, “Why am I even going? I don’t need to go!” But then I decided to change my attitude. I started writing down something I’d learned every morning, and I did that for the rest of the year. At the end of the year, I read the things I’d written. Going to seminary and writing down insights every day helped me appreciate seminary and have a stronger testimony of the gospel—especially when I read through all of it and realized how much I’d grown.
Annie P., Texas, USA

Shortly after becoming a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I began to hear warnings, from Church leaders encouraging members to prepare for difficult times, including those caused by natural phenomena. My situation as a student at the time, made me think that it was not something important to do and that I could think about it later.
A few years after I became a husband and father, we planned to create a reserve, little by little. In recent months, the Presidency of the Caribbean Area has encouraged us to focus on the need to prepare, not only with storage, but also with an emergency backpack.
We were able to observe how we were blessed and saved from the hurricanes in 2020, while some of our Caribbean brothers and sisters suffered from its effects. So, in 2021, we decided not only to say preparation was a good thing, but we decided to act.
In 2020, we had taken steps to assemble our emergency backpack. We relied on the list provided by the Area, as well as the documentation that state services made available to us.
However, despite our best efforts, we were unable to build our backpack. As I said before, we were thankful that no major hurricane hit us that year.
In 2021, we wanted to be obedient and set an example for our children. We now have emergency backpacks for the whole family, and we are aware that we are one of the “pioneers of emergency backpacks.”
Our local leaders, branch president, elders quorum president, and Relief Society president have relayed the information to our branch members and regularly encourage us to pack our backpack and let them know if we are having trouble doing so.
As a ministering brother, I take the time to ask the families that I minister to, “How are you doing with preparing your emergency backpack? Do you know how to prepare it? Do you need help to do it?” A simple way to teach how to do it is to show visual aids with objects that we could put in backpacks.
I can testify to the hard work this has required, and also to the blessing of the sweet feelings of serenity and security that we now feel.
I know that the Lord, in his omniscience, “knowing the calamity which should befall the inhabitants of the earth” (D&C 1:17), has inspired our Church leaders and even our political representatives to insist on this important preparation and to show us what to do.

As the Saints left Nauvoo, they carried the concept of the temple with them in their hearts. Only four days after Brigham Young completed the 2,400-kilometer trek to the Salt Lake Valley in 1847, he walked to a spot between two forks of City Creek and, waving his hand, said, “Here is the [place] for the temple.” Wilford Woodruff then drove a stake into the ground to mark the spot. According to tradition, that spot became the center of the completed temple.

During my junior year of high school in southern Maryland, I decided to join the track team for the first time. I had always enjoyed running and thought it would be a fun experience to run for my school. After preseason training, athletes were either assigned to or could choose the various events they would run in at meets. I decided to run in the 300-meter hurdles. This event has a distribution of hurdles along the 300 meters of track, and as the race goes on, each hurdle becomes harder and harder to clear. I thought that since I could jump fairly well, I would have no problem.
Despite my inexperience, I found considerable success throughout the season, winning first place twice at two meets. The hurdles seemed to be my niche. After the regular season, certain athletes on the team were chosen to run at the Southern Maryland Conference Meet. I was chosen to run the hurdles at this particular meet.
On the day of the race, I felt prepared to run and was confident I would do well despite the competition. When my event was called, I walked out on my lane, imagining my win. I took my stance, and the starting gun fired. I took off, bolting over the first few hurdles, and passing the other runners. I couldn’t help but smile as I became aware of my position—I was on the way to victory. Suddenly I realized that I still had about 150 meters and 4 hurdles left, and I was already getting tired. I had used all my energy at the beginning! I started running slower and slower, and my opponents caught up with me. With one hurdle left, we were all neck and neck. I approached the last hurdle but could not bring myself to clear it. I fell a few feet in front of the finish line. The other runners passed me and finished. Realizing what had happened, I got up and mournfully finished last. I was shocked at having tripped for the first time, and at such an important meet.
This experience was disappointing at the time, but as I look back, I am grateful to have learned a spiritual lesson from it. We face many obstacles and difficult encounters throughout life; none of us is exempt from having adversity. As we face the “hurdles” or challenges of life, the Lord expects us to have faith to overcome them. Once in a while our faith may be shaken, but through prayer, scripture reading, and obedience, the Lord will help us up after we fall and help us finish as long as we are willing to acknowledge our mistakes and repent. I know that the Lord aids us during and after our adversities and continues to guide us throughout life. He taught me a lesson I will never forget, even though I learned it through something as simple as running hurdles.

“Dad has always had great faith in prayer and in the healing power of blessings for the sick. Once his mother was very ill and he remembers the neighbors coming to the house to assist. My father knew that his mother’s illness must be very serious and that frightened him. He ran into the cornfield and dropped to his knees, saying aloud, ‘Heavenly Father, please don’t let my mother die.’ After awhile he went back to her bedroom and asked, ‘How are you, Mother?’ She replied, ‘No better.’ He went back to the corn patch again to repeat his fervent plea. This continued until five o’clock in the afternoon when he again entered his mother’s room. ‘How do you feel, Mother?’
“‘Better, son!’ she answered. And the next day she was able to sit up.”

Across campus, Jackie is talking to another close friend, Petra Bäcker, 15. Petra is German, but she was raised in Saudi Arabia and learned to speak fluent English by attending international schools in which English is the classroom language. She has lived in several countries and came to Kaiserslautern in 1976. “I was glad to make friends with Melanie and Jackie,” she says. “I was interested at first because they spoke English, and I wanted to keep in practice. But now they are my best friends.”
In fact, Petra spends so much time in the Howells’ home and with Jackie and Melanie at school and church that some people think all three are sisters and that Petra is LDS. “The Howells have been great friends and good examples to me,” Petra continues. “They are just like sisters to me. We go to Mutual together, we went to youth conference together, and we do something together almost every day.”

Several years ago just before Christmas, my niece, Shelly, took hold of her mother’s hand and asked seriously, “Is it okay if I believe just one more year?”

Since that memorable happening several years ago, our family has established a family tradition. Each year on Christmas Eve, we gather together around the tree. With the lights low and the fire burning in the fireplace, we ask the question once again, the most important question of the year, “Is it okay if we believe one more year?”—not only believe in the traditions of childhood with Santa Claus, but more importantly in the message of the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, whose birthday we are celebrating. Do we believe in his mission, his atonement, his resurrection? Do we believe in his invitation to come and follow him?

Of course we are not really committing ourselves for only a year. We are pledged to follow the Savior forever. But we live life a day, a week, a month, a year at a time, and Christmas is a season to focus on the year ahead and reconfirm our discipleship.

Following the discussion and the commitment, someone reads aloud The Polar Express by Chris Von Allsburg, a story that tells how those who have faith can always hear the clear sound of a silver bell.

Following the story, we each receive a small new bell on a red satin ribbon to wear around our necks during the holidays. We listen for its clear sound as a testimony and commitment that we truly believe and will strive to live as we believe one more year. While the fire burns low, we then read from the Bible the glorious account of the Christmas story recorded by Luke telling of the birth of the Savior as announced by an angel, “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:11), and we believe.

As youth around the world make the effort to attend seminary, they’re receiving strength in much more than scripture study. Cameron L. of England found that he was blessed in all areas of his life. “Not only does seminary help with the spiritual side of things, but it also helps with school and education,” says Cameron.
He says that “an early start to the day gets your brain into gear. Some of my friends said they were too busy to attend—well, it’s not like you’re going to be reviewing math at 6:00 a.m., are you?” As you study, “the Lord will help you in your exams, and if you go to seminary, He will help you even more,” says Cameron.
Of course, seminary helped Cameron strengthen his testimony as well. He says, “The beginning of my testimony came from the seminary program. At the youthful age of 14, I was really struggling in the gospel. I did not enjoy church, and I got up to things that I shouldn’t have. It was only a matter of months before I would have given up entirely.” But when a friend invited Cameron to attend seminary, he decided to go with her. Then the blessings really began to come.
“I began to feel the Spirit again,” says Cameron. “I started paying more attention in church and attended my Sunday School and priesthood lessons. It became easier, and I started to feel happier. I finally gained a testimony of the gospel for myself.” After two months of seminary, Cameron met with his bishop and was ordained a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood.
Cameron knows that seminary helps him stand strong against the temptations of the world. “As seminary continued,” he says, “I found it easier to deal with the challenges that the world presents. It’s pretty tough being a youth in the world we live in—sin is surrounding us from all sides. I testify to you that if you attend seminary, you will find the strength to defend yourself against it. Seminary creates a spiritual shield to protect you. Many different trials and temptations have been thrown my way, and seminary has been such a huge help in keeping me on the strait and narrow.”

“Can’t I stay home and start school tomorrow?”
“No, Megan. Dad and I have things to do, and we can’t leave you here alone,” said her mother.
“But Valentine Day is a terrible time to begin at a new school. When they trade valentines, I won’t have anything to do,” said Megan.
“It’s hard, but it can’t be helped. Get your coat. I’ll drive you.”
Megan rode silently beside her mother. When they stopped at the school, her mother said, “Thanks for being brave.”
But Megan wasn’t feeling brave; she was just too miserable to talk.
“Try to learn the other children’s names,” said her mother. “There’s a saying, ‘Learn a name, and you’re halfway to knowing a person.’”
As Megan and her mother walked to the principal’s office, kids turned and looked at them. Megan wished that she were invisible. While her mother and the principal talked, Megan thought If he says kind things to me, I’ll cry. But when her mother left, the principal simply led her to the fifth-grade classroom, where thirty strangers stared at her.
The teacher smiled. “Who’s this?” she asked.
“Mrs. Thomas, this is Megan McNeal,” said the principal. He turned to the class. “It’s hard entering a new school. Try to make this a fine first day for Megan.” But the children just looked puzzled, as if they didn’t know how to do what he asked.
“There’s a desk for you back here,” said Mrs. Thomas.
Following her, Megan passed the valentine box. So many envelopes crowded it that they poked out the top. Not one would be for her.
“Because Megan has come, we’ll stop working for a while and introduce ourselves,” said Mrs. Thomas. The class murmured with pleasure. “How many of you have ever had to move?” the teacher asked. Ten hands went up. “When it’s your turn, tell Megan your name and something that you liked about your new school. You others tell what you hope it will be like if you ever do move.”
A boy in front said, “My name is Tom. When I moved, I didn’t like it here. Then John asked me to play, and now we’re best friends.”
“I’m Leisl,” said the girl beside Tom. “I’ve never moved. If I do, I hope people will be nice to me.”
“My name is Bridget. I haven’t moved, either, but if I do, I hope that Leisl will move with me.” Everyone laughed.
“I’m Peter,” said a tall boy. “I moved here from Norway. I miss my friends there, but I have friends here now.”
“I’m Jenny. I’m used to moving because my dad’s in the military. The last time I moved, I especially liked my new teacher.”
When the introductions were over, the class returned to their studies. The spelling lesson was hard. Megan felt dumb for not knowing many of the words. In science, they were studying volcanoes. Megan didn’t know much about that subject, either. And still ahead was the valentine box. When valentines were passed out, she would feel completely left out. Well, she thought, maybe tomorrow will be better.
Near the end of the day Mrs. Thomas opened the frilly box and called the names on the envelopes. Children filed back and forth gathering piles of valentines. At a signal, they began opening them. Megan sat alone, a lump of misery. I can’t just sit here, she thought.
She went and whispered to Mrs. Thomas, who whispered back, “That sounds like fun.” She gave Megan a pair of scissors, and Megan went back to her desk.
When all the valentines had been opened, Mrs. Thomas announced, “We’re going to play a game that Megan has suggested. She made a list of our names and has written them on slips of paper. She’ll try to hand us each the slip with our own name on it. If she doesn’t know where a slip belongs, we’ll help her by saying hot or cold.”
Megan began by handing Leisl and Bridget their slips. She remembered their names because Bridget had said that if she moved, she’d want Leisl to move too. She remembered Jenny, who had said that you get used to moving. She knew six more people. She began to read out the other names, one by one. The class directed her to the right person by shouting cold when she headed in the wrong direction and hot when she was headed right. The game became noisy and exciting. She tried to give the name Jesse to a girl, but it belonged to a boy. The children enjoyed that mistake.
When the closing bell rang, the class scrambled for their coats and pushed toward the door. Several children said, “That was fun, Megan.” Her game had turned a roomful of strangers into friends. Now, Megan thought, I know that tomorrow will be better.

And when the day is over
And I kneel to say my prayer,
I’ll say, “Thank you, Heavenly Father,
For my family’s love and care.”

Lucy’s Heart
Lucy and her older sisters entered an art contest at their school about making the world a better place. Lucy knew she wanted to paint a heart. She said, “The world would be a better place if we have love in our hearts.”
A Loving Sister
When Lucy found out that her painting won the contest, she told her sister Ruby, “Yours is so good. I wish you would have won instead of me.” Lucy couldn’t believe it when she found out her painting won the contest for the whole United States too!

One sunny day when I was seven years old, I was playing outside my grandmother’s home while my family visited on the front porch. As I walked along a shrubbery-lined path by the side of the house, I suddenly felt a sharp, terrible pain in my ankle. My family heard my screams and rushed to my side. To their shock they saw that I had been bitten by a snake.
I had to get to a doctor, but we were out in the country and didn’t have a car. My uncle ran several miles to a neighbor’s home to borrow a cattle truck, and once we were in the truck, we even had to stop to get gasoline. My leg started swelling, and we didn’t know what kind of snake had bitten me.
We finally reached the hospital—a little one-story frame building—and after some tests, the doctor determined that I had been bitten by a rattlesnake. Judging from the fang marks, it had been a huge snake—about five feet long! As the poison from the bite rose in my blood, it turned my skin black, until it was black only two or three inches below my heart.
I was in the hospital for many days, and it was a painful and difficult time. I can remember having nightmares and screaming. One time, a young medical student who lived in a house across the street heard my screams as he was taking a shower. He dashed over to the hospital to help me with just a towel wrapped around him. Another time, the owner of a small restaurant about two blocks away became alarmed when he heard me, and he called the hospital, wanting to know what was going on.
I’m told I almost didn’t survive, but while in the hospital I was given a blessing. Because I was unconscious at the time, I didn’t hear the words, but my family later told me that I had been blessed that my life would be preserved for a special purpose. My relatives later told and retold this experience at family gatherings. This has given my life special meaning, and it has strengthened my testimony of the importance and power of the priesthood.

“Would you accept Moses as a prophet of God if he lived today?” I asked.
“Why, yes,” answered my friend, “without any doubt!”
“What if he wore modern clothing and drove a car? What if he were a husband, a father, and a devoted citizen of the country in which he lived?”
“Moses would never have been like other men,” my friend replied. “He was Moses, the prophet—the man who communed with God!”
It did not occur to my friend that Moses had been much like the other men of his time. For my friend, it was inconceivable that a man who lived in modern times could be a mouthpiece for God—and could act and speak in his name.

I participated in our stake goal to index 50,000 names. At first it was hard. On several occasions the batch I downloaded had difficult handwriting, and sometimes I wanted to return it and download a different one. But then I realized that if everyone thought like that, those batches would be left to the end. I could imagine many lines of people waiting in the spirit world, and I decided to continue trying to read those names and transcribe them without making a mistake.
I learned to have love for those people. I understood that they truly did need help, and we also needed help from them. I came to better understand that Heavenly Father’s perfect plan takes everyone into consideration. When we follow the inspiration and instructions of His chosen leaders, we will witness His mercy and infinite love.
Indexing has been a lovely experience for me. I learned to value and love many things about family history. I also obtained gifts of great value from our Lord by obeying something as simple as participating in indexing.

A woman teaches priorities by precept and example. Recently I watched a television program in which a female lawyer was being interviewed. She was at home with her child on a full-time basis. When asked of her decision, she replied, “Oh, I may go back to the law sometime, but not now. For me, the issue is simple. Any lawyer could take care of my clients, but only I should be the mother of this child.”

For their part, Toshiko and her husband, Tokichi, struggled with aspects of being Latter-day Saints—especially paying tithing. Tokichi did not make much money, and sometimes they wondered if they had enough to pay for their son’s school lunch. They were also hoping to buy a house.

After one Church meeting, Toshiko asked a missionary about tithing. “Japanese people are very poor now after the war,” she said. “Tithing is so hard for us. Must we pay?”3

The elder replied that God commanded everyone to pay tithing, and he spoke of the blessings of obeying the principle. Toshiko was skeptical—and a little angry. “This is American thinking,” she told herself.

Other missionaries encouraged her to have faith. One sister missionary promised Toshiko that paying tithing could help her family reach their goal of owning their own house. Wanting to be obedient, Toshiko and Tokichi decided to pay their tithing and trust that blessings would come.4

She and Tokichi also began to see blessings come from paying tithing. They purchased an affordable lot in the city and drew up blueprints for a house. They then applied for a home loan through a new government program, and once they received approval to build, they started work on a foundation.

The process went smoothly until a building inspector noticed that their lot was inaccessible to firefighters. “This land is not land that is suitable for building a house,” he told them. “You cannot proceed any further with the construction.”

Unsure what to do, Toshiko and Tokichi spoke to the missionaries. “The six of us will fast and pray for you,” an elder told them. “You do the same.”

For the next two days, the Yanagidas fasted and prayed with the missionaries. Another inspector then came out to reassess their lot. He had a reputation for being strict, and at first he gave the Yanagidas little hope of passing the inspection. But as he looked over the lot, he noticed a solution. In an emergency, the fire department could get to the property simply by removing a nearby fence. The Yanagidas could build their house after all.

“I guess you two must have done something exceptionally good in the past,” the inspector told them. “In all my years I have never been so accommodating.”

Toshiko and Tokichi were overjoyed. They had fasted and prayed and paid their tithing. And just as the sister missionary had promised, they would have a home of their own.6

Shortly after I was baptized at the age of 10 in Lappeenranta, Finland, I received my first Church calling. It was 1960, and our small branch desperately needed someone to accompany the hymns for sacrament meetings. I was asked to fulfill this assignment.
While my mother had always encouraged my brother and me to pursue artistic talents, I did not know how to play the piano, and we did not own a piano. But I wanted to fulfill my calling, so we made a plan.
In family home evening, we talked about what this calling meant to all of us. However, because my mother was a widow with two young children, we knew it would be a great challenge for us to purchase a piano and pay for lessons. We decided that we were all willing to make the needed sacrifices.
The first sacrifice my family made was financial. We decided that from spring to autumn we would ride our bicycles rather than the bus. My brother, Martti, was courageous and became especially good at biking—even on snow and ice. I gave up most of my clothing purchases and learned to sew. We also learned to live providently. We started a garden in the countryside near my grandparents’ house and preserved food for the winter. Our “vacations” became our mother’s trips to the temple in Switzerland or picnics and camps close to home.
The second sacrifice my family made was with time. We divided the chores and rescheduled our other activities and homework so I had enough time to practice the piano. Because of our sacrifices and hard work, Mother often remarked that we had no free time to get into trouble like others our age. In reality, my calling became a family calling long before I ever played a note.
I began taking lessons with a music teacher at the local school. I practiced using a paper keyboard and on a piano at the church. When my piano teacher moved away, we purchased his piano, and I was accepted to study with a renowned piano teacher in the area.
I learned the hymns on my own and practiced a lot with the branch music director. Everyone encouraged me—even if a “sour” note slipped in. My teacher was horrified after she found out that I played in front of people before I had thoroughly learned and memorized the pieces. But playing with one hand was better than having no music at all.
I rode my bike to my lessons, and when winter came, I tried to walk or ski if possible. On Sundays I walked alone to Church meetings so I could arrive an hour early and have time to practice. I resolved to ride the bus only when temperatures reached below -15ºC (5ºF). Rain and snow didn’t really bother me; time went by quickly as I walked because I had so many beautiful hymns to keep me company. As I walked, I was crossing the plains with the pioneers (see “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” Hymns, no. 30), walking high on the mountain top in Zion (see “High on the Mountain Top,” Hymns, no. 5), and standing with youth who would never falter (see “True to the Faith,” Hymns, no. 254). I could never falter with that support—even though my family and I were the only Latter-day Saints in our community in eastern Finland, in the shadows of the Russian border.
Over the years I became better at playing and could make music rather than just play the right notes. I learned to be prayerful in selecting the music so the Spirit would be in the meeting. And most important, my testimony of the gospel came to me through music. I could easily recall the feelings, words, and messages of the hymns if I ever questioned something. I knew that the gospel principles and ordinances were true, having learned them line upon line and note after note.