Gospel Story Finder

President Benson lived on a farm in Whitney, Idaho, when he was a child. There were chickens, milking cows, beef cattle, and horses. There were also neighbors. Ezra’s mother taught him to greet people with a polite “How do you do?” One afternoon while the family was seated at the dinner table, little Ezra noticed the bowl of boiled eggs and said courteously, “How do you do, eggs?” Everyone laughed, and it was a family joke that was retold for years.

Counseling with my bishop. I came to appreciate my bishop’s guidance in helping me make a number of sound decisions. He checked on our family often and made sure I was all right and my family was well cared for. He was my support both temporally and spiritually.
One day the bishop called me into his office and discussed with me each of my children, one by one, to see how they were doing. We came up with a plan to make sure each of my boys received priesthood support through their quorum and auxiliary leaders. He also discussed my financial situation and made sure we had food in the house, and when Christmas came he checked again to be sure we had something to go under our tree.
Besides helping my children, he gave me priesthood blessings and helped me explore my new role as a single sister. What a comfort it was to know I had his backing.

“Mama, look at this one!” Joshua pointed to the Christmas tree. It was tall and skinny, with perfect green needles.
Mama paused and looked at the price tag. She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
Joshua sighed and kept walking. The market was crowded with stalls of food and Christmas trees. It was crowded with families buying trees and ingredients to make delicious treats, like bûche de Noël (Yule log dessert). Mama had brought Joshua with her to buy some food, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off the Christmas trees. Some of the trees were tall and thin. Others were short and round. Joshua even saw one that was just his height!
Mama said they didn’t have a lot of money this year. They probably wouldn’t be able to buy a tree. That made Joshua a little sad. Whenever he went to the marketplace with Mama, he kept looking for the perfect Christmas tree. Maybe, just maybe, they could find a tree to take home.
Joshua held Mama’s hand as they walked to the next row of trees. Joshua gasped. There it was—the perfect tree!
He ran ahead and put a hand on the tree. It wasn’t very green. It was missing clumps of needles. It wasn’t too tall. In fact, it was bent far over, like an old man leaning on a cane.
“Mama, it’s perfect!” Joshua said. “Can we take it home? Please?”
Mama glanced at the price tag. “Well, it’s not too many euros. And I think we can fit it in the car.”
Joshua could hardly wait. He kept playing with the sleeves of his coat as he waited for Mama to pay for the tree. Then a nice man helped them place the tree in the car. When they were finally home, his stepbrother, Matthieu, and Papa helped take the tree from the car. They carried the tree inside and set it in the corner of their front room.
“First, we need to do the lights,” Matthieu said.
It was hard to hang the lights up since the tree was so bent over. Matthieu put the lights on the top. Joshua put them on the bottom. Next they hung the ornaments. Finally Papa helped Joshua place the star on the top.
Papa plugged in the lights and put an arm around Mama. Joshua smiled at the tree. The tree’s lights made the whole room feel warm and cozy. He sat underneath the tree and looked up at the brightly colored ornaments. The tree didn’t look as bent over and sad now. It was beautiful. It was perfect.
“It’s a perfect Jesus tree,” Joshua said.
“What do you mean?” Mama asked.
“Our tree is just like Jesus,” Joshua said. “Jesus was born in a poor, dirty manger. Our tree was poor and sad in the marketplace. But now the tree is beautiful and grand, just like how Jesus became a beautiful king.”
“Our perfect Jesus tree,” Papa said. “I love that.”
Joshua smiled. This was going to be a very special Christmas.

When the missionaries first visited me, they explained the fundamental truths of the gospel. They also told me how the Church of Jesus Christ was restored.
At the end of their visit, they asked me to read 3 Nephi 11. As I read, I prayed fervently. Immediately, the Holy Ghost touched my heart. The Spirit whispered, “This book is true.”
A week later, I attended my first sacrament meeting. I will never forget the welcome I received and the testimonies that members shared.
After the meeting, the missionaries told me I needed to make covenants with God and accept Jesus Christ as my Savior in order to obtain a hope of salvation and exaltation. My experience at church was amazing, but I told them, “I cannot do it. I am not the kind of person God wants in His Church.”
A week later, the missionaries invited me to visit the grounds of the Guatemala City Guatemala Temple. I was amazed to see such a beautiful building with an angel on top.
Two sister missionaries who were giving tours of the temple grounds said to me, “You have come to get an answer from God. Let’s enter the lobby so you can pray to receive the answer you desire.”
We entered and sat down. As I prayed, I felt a strong burning in my heart and began to weep. I also felt great peace and happiness. I knew that God had forgiven me of my sins. I wanted to serve Him. I knew that I needed to get baptized.
When the missionaries who had been teaching me asked if I was now ready to be baptized, I replied, “Tomorrow, this weekend, whenever you can!”
The day I got baptized was the best day of my life. I felt that I had been born again.
I feel that Heavenly Father worked a miracle in me. The key was praying and reading the scriptures. Scriptures and prayer are ways the Lord communicates with us and shows us His love.
Do not hesitate to make covenants with Him. Covenants are a wonderful thing.

I recall the time when I was ordained a deacon. Our bishopric stressed the sacred responsibility which was ours to pass the sacrament. Emphasized were proper dress, a dignified bearing, and the importance of being clean inside and out. As we were taught the procedure in passing the sacrament, we were told how we should assist Louis McDonald, a brother in our ward who was afflicted with a palsied condition, that he might have the opportunity to partake of the sacred emblems.
How I remember being assigned to pass the sacrament to the row where Brother McDonald sat. I was fearful and hesitant as I approached this wonderful brother, and then I saw his smile and the eager expression of gratitude that showed his desire to partake. Holding the tray in my left hand, I took a small piece of bread and pressed it to his lips. The water was later served in the same way. I felt I was on holy ground. And indeed I was. The privilege to pass the sacrament to Brother McDonald made better deacons of us all.

A few years ago, I was overwhelmed by my many jobs, public service, Church responsibilities, and the needs of my family. I was concerned that I was not giving any of them the attention that they needed.
On March 12, 2012 Elder David A. Bednar, came to the Dominican Republic, and I dared to ask him, “How can we attend to the affairs of the Lord, our family and all the other commitments?” He said, like a juggler’s strategy to keep all the spinning plates in motion we also must be wise in the distribution of our time so that each obligation provides quality actions.
I felt peace in his profound answer, and I desired to better organize my time, identify how to use it wisely, honor commitments and dedicate quality time to my family.

Jerell C., 17, of Kansas didn’t have any major interest in religion. But when David M., a Latter-day Saint Jerell knew from both work and school, persisted in inviting him to church, Jerell decided he shouldn’t keep turning his friend down. He agreed to attend one Sunday.
People in David’s ward were kind and welcoming, and Jerell felt at home. Before long, he was attending church with David’s family every Sunday. One thing led to another, and after meeting with the missionaries and gaining a testimony of the Book of Mormon, Jerell received permission from his family to join the Church. David baptized him July 5, 2009.
But that’s just the beginning of Jerell’s story. He learned about early-morning seminary. He knew a little bit about it from David—David had talked to him about memorizing scriptures, for example—but Jerell had never been there before. And going would present more than a few challenges. For one thing, it began at 5:30 a.m. For another, David, who had been with Jerell at every step of learning about the gospel, had already graduated from high school and would no longer be attending seminary. And—perhaps the most daunting obstacle—Jerell didn’t have a way to get there.
That didn’t stop him, however. “I wanted to learn more about the scriptures,” he says. Although he had studied the Book of Mormon reading assignments the missionaries had given him, even taking notes and sharing his thoughts with the elders, he knew there was still a lot to learn, and seminary, it seemed, was the most obvious way to do it.
So Jerell began waking up at 4:30 a.m. and biking an hour to the building where the class was held. He continued doing so—even through bad weather—for four months. At that point, a member began giving him rides.
It didn’t always come easily, he admits. “There were mornings I just didn’t want to get on that bike,” he says. “It was dark outside, so I worried about drivers seeing me.”
But he persisted anyhow, praying for strength as he rode or singing hymns to focus his mind elsewhere. “I knew I couldn’t quit,” he says.
Jerell attributes his consistency to help from Heavenly Father, a great class of students, a dedicated teacher, and opportunities to socialize with them. “We were good friends outside of class as well,” says Jerell. The payoff? At a scripture-mastery-related competition at the end of the school year, Jerell took first place.
Of course, that’s just a side perk. “I never expected to win the seminary bowl,” admits Jerell. “The blessings have just poured in for me as a new convert. I have found comfort in the scriptures and good friends in the Church. It’s been a great ride—literally.”

Such was Walter Stover of Salt Lake City. Born in Germany, Walter embraced the gospel message and came to America. He established his own business. He gave freely of his time and of his means.
Following World War II Walter Stover was called to return to his native land. He directed the Church in that nation and blessed the lives of all whom he met and with whom he served. With his own funds he constructed two chapels in Berlin—a beautiful city that had been so devastated by the conflict. He planned a gathering in Dresden for all the members of the Church from that nation and then chartered a train to bring them from all around the land so they could meet, partake of the sacrament, and bear witness of the goodness of God to them.
At the funeral services for Walter Stover, his son-in-law Thomas C. LeDuc said of him, “He had the ability to see Christ in every face he encountered, and he acted accordingly.”

When I was working as a group singer, I used to receive calls to sing on radio and television commercials. I was always hopeful that I would not get a call for a commercial promoting cigarettes, cigars, alcohol, tea, or coffee. Fortunately, I never did receive such a call. I know that I would have turned it down even though, due to the highly competitive nature of this business, those who do not accept almost every job offered them are soon thought of as “not available” and are numbered among the ranks of the non-working.

We teach our children everywhere we are with them, and I believe we should have fun with them while we are doing it! We have opportunities many times a day to teach them as we walk together, drive in the car, work side by side, kneel in prayer, talk at the dinner table, and even when we change diapers. It didn’t take me long to realize soon after our first child, Natalie, was born that changing diapers was not on my list of favorite things to do. So to help me survive this recurring ordeal, I sang Primary songs to her to make it nicer for both of us. Soon the routine of changing diapers became second nature and didn’t bother me anymore. However, I continued to sing to Natalie and the rest of our children as I performed this duty, because I realized I had an opportunity many times a day to teach my child.

Once upon a time, a very long time ago, I was your age. I didn’t worry about drugs or pornography because they were not available then. I worried about school and where it would lead. It was the season of the terrible economic depression. I worried about how to earn a living. I served a mission after I finished the university. I went to England. We traveled by train to Chicago, made a bus transfer across that city, and went on to New York, where we caught a steamship for the British Isles. While riding the transfer bus in Chicago, a woman said to the driver, “What is that building ahead?” He said, “Ma’am, that is the Chicago Board of Trade Building. Every week some man who has lost his fortune jumps out of one of those windows. He has nothing else to live for.”

Such were the times. They were mean and ugly. No one who did not live through that period will ever understand it fully. I hope with all my heart we never have anything like it again.

James: Cristi has this Christlike ability to see the good in others. She has a deep testimony of her Savior and a great desire to do missionary work.

Cristi: I remember trying to bargain with the Lord. For a while, it was like, “Come on, heal me. I want to gather Israel!” I tried to boss God around, but it didn’t work. Then I thought, “OK, my name, Cristi, means ‘follower of Christ.’ While I’m still here, I want to bring as many souls to Christ as I can.

James: And that led to another prompting.

Cristi: I started doing a social media message each day, a little message of hope and love. I called it “It’s a Great Day to Be Alive.” People started hearing about it. My sister-in-law was an atheist, but she said, “Will you start sending me your messages?” Over time she became a believer, and now she’s a member of the Church. And my brother started reading the messages. They helped him to find faith again. Now he’s active in the Church.

James: I was traveling a lot for work, going to small towns in Texas and Georgia. Cristi often went with me. We’d meet people we wanted to stay in touch with, and she would say, “Can I send you one of my messages? Then you can decide if you want to keep receiving them.”

Cristi: The number of people who wanted my messages kept growing. Now there are about 200. Some are Church members; some are not. For a long time, I sent out a thought every day, but now that’s getting harder and harder. I think the messages will be like a little history. When I’m gone, my family and friends will still have my witness about what I know is true.

But there was a time of darkness, a time when her light was in danger of being extinguished. Sasha had trained from an early age to become a professional dancer. Several months after her baptism, she was accepted in a modern-dance company. Most of the other dancers were adults. None were LDS and none lived Church standards.
The company started preparing for a tour in Switzerland. “Every day I danced for about eight hours,” she says. It was the chance of a lifetime, but her devotion to dancing was taking her dangerously far from her mother, her schoolwork, and the Church.
Fortunately, the mother of an LDS friend said, “Sasha, stop! Do you think you can remain clean in that environment? Those people don’t keep the Word of Wisdom or the law of chastity. Do you think the Holy Ghost can remain with you?”
“I suddenly realized I was surrounded by a spiritual darkness,” Sasha says. She and her friend fell to their knees. “After our prayer, there seemed to be a light around us. I knew I must leave the dance group.”
And she did, even though it was hard.
Today, Sasha is 20 years old, a member of the Kupchino Branch. She has served in Young Women and been a branch Relief Society president. She has brought many people into the Church. But she still remembers her choice between darkness and light, and the joy she felt when she turned to the gospel.

A third example involved a visiting professor from a Korean university. He was not LDS when he came here, but he just wanted to come here to take some classes and interact with the faculty. We didn’t recruit him; we didn’t know why he came. One day the elders quorum presidency of the ward where he lived in Provo was walking around the neighborhood, and the elders quorum president felt impressed to knock on the family’s door. The wife came to the door, and they introduced themselves. She told them that they were interested in learning more about the Church. Not long thereafter they were baptized into the Church, and they have since returned to Korea. What a wonderful place to be where we can interact with so many wonderful children of God: faculty and students who may not all share our faith but who share our love for the good in life.

When my family and I lived in Las Vegas, Nevada, USA, I served for a time as ward Relief Society president. I thrived on the wonderful associations I had with the good sisters in our ward. I loved planning uplifting activities, conducting Relief Society, attending meetings with ward leaders, and serving families.
I spent a significant amount of time going into homes to visit with sisters. I also ministered to mothers who were exhausted, sick, or simply overwhelmed—sisters who needed comfort, both spiritual and physical. I felt fulfilled and needed outside of my responsibilities as a young mother of six children.
Then my life suddenly changed.
My husband accepted a job promotion in another state. Within a month we packed up and left our home in sunny Las Vegas for a small rental house in cold Casper, Wyoming. The same week that we moved, I found out I was pregnant—with twins!
The night we arrived at our rental home, I became violently ill. I remember lying in bed hardly able to move while I watched my husband manage our children and unload our moving van. That was the beginning of the worst physical challenge of my life. For the next four months, I couldn’t keep a meal down and barely had enough energy to serve my family, care for our children, and—sometimes—make meals.
As my husband adjusted to his new job, I adjusted to our new town and enrolled four of our children in school. Our tiny rental home was cramped, and for several weeks we lived out of boxes. I would send our school children out the door every morning and then spend the day on the couch while my two toddlers played nearby.
One morning after the children had left for school, the doorbell rang. One of my toddlers opened the door, and there stood a sister from our new ward’s Relief Society presidency. She was holding a basket of items and had her own daughter with her. She had come to welcome me to the ward.
I was mortified.
There I was, still in my pajamas, lying on the couch with a bucket beside me. My two partially dressed toddlers were playing on the cluttered floor amidst boxes that still needed to be unpacked.
This wonderful sister came in and set her basket down on a corner of the table. Then she sat in our cluttered living room and visited with me—asking all about me and our family.
As we talked, I felt humbled. Just a month earlier, I had been in her position, visiting people and offering aid. Now the tables had turned. I was flat on my back in a messy house in desperate need of relief. I was lonely, overwhelmed, and dealing with a situation larger than my abilities. I was one of those sisters who needed help. The Lord had quickly and successfully reminded me that I needed Him and the help offered through His servants.
After she left, the sight of her welcome basket on my table gave me relief and light. During the next few weeks, I savored the contents of the basket and was grateful for our budding friendship as she visited again and again, offering help and support during those difficult months. I gained a new appreciation for the hope and relief that one sister can bring to another.
A few months later we bought a home big enough for our growing family. My difficult pregnancy ended with the birth of two beautiful children. And the kind Relief Society sister became my close friend and continues to strengthen and uplift me with her testimony and example. I often reflect on the difficult morning of her first visit and feel grateful that she fulfilled her calling.

Shortly after I returned from my mission, my stake president asked me to interpret for Elder Hartman Rector Jr., then of the Seventy, who had come to Mendoza, Argentina, to preside over a stake conference. These marvelous opportunities have continued over the years. I interpreted for President Thomas S. Monson and other General Authorities during the 11 dedicatory sessions of the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple.
During four of those sessions, I read the dedicatory prayer in Spanish from the pulpit in the celestial room. My voice broke up several times because of my emotions; tears filled my eyes and flowed down my face. I was reading the inspired prayers and promises for my country from Heavenly Father, who lives and reveals His will, just as He did 12 years earlier through my mission president when I accepted the challenge to learn English.
I also interpreted for the prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley, during the four dedicatory sessions of the Montevideo Uruguay Temple and the four dedicatory sessions of the Asunción Paraguay Temple.
It’s difficult for me to explain how sacred those moments were for me when I stood alongside prophets, seers, and revelators in the Lord’s house. I felt somewhat like Peter, James, and John when they had the amazing experience of seeing Jesus transfigured. Peter expressed my feelings when he told Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here” (Matt. 17:4).

My mind was focused on the Savior as the congregation finished singing the sacrament hymn, but as I started to close the hymnbook, the music continued. A large congregation that day made it necessary for the organist to play two more verses while the priests finished breaking the bread. I was grateful for the extra time. It allowed me an additional moment of reverent meditation before the sacramental prayers.
During the prayers, I followed carefully the words the priests spoke as they blessed the emblems of Christ’s sacrifice for us. Just as the final prayer concluded and at the moment when the congregation voiced their assent, a four-year-old boy’s voice from two rows behind me sprang from the midst of the “amens.”
“Hooray!” he exclaimed.
His spontaneous expression was loud enough to cause several children nearby to giggle. I confess that it brought a quizzical smile to my lips.
“Hooray?” I thought. That’s an odd response to the sacrament prayers. It was certainly a response I’d never heard before and likely will never hear again. After all, we end our prayers with “amen.”
Perhaps that young child had sensed more of the truth than I had.
Hooray communicates excitement. It is an exclamation of joy, usually for a victory. Sometimes it’s shouted to show approval for someone who has finished a difficult task well.1
Instantly, my mind caught hold of the idea. Yes, I thought, hooray that Jesus Christ overcame death so we can all be resurrected! Hooray that because of His Atonement, He can forgive our sins! More to the point, He can forgive me of my sins! Hooray that through His grace I may return to my Heavenly Father and enjoy the hope of eternal life! Yes! Hooray!
As I silently shouted these praises of thanks to my Heavenly Father, the Holy Ghost flooded my heart with a joy that nearly brought me to tears. I had been led that day by a little child (see Isaiah 11:6), and I rejoiced with fresh vision for the blessings of the Savior’s Atonement in my life.

When I was six years old, I participated in a soccer shootout. Soccer players that placed first and second would go to the state competition. I got first place and could go to state, but we found out that it was on Sunday. My dad tried to reschedule it, but they said they could only have it done on Sunday. My parents said I could choose what I wanted to do. I chose not to go. I am glad I chose the right.
Preston G., age 9, Arizona, USA

7. Keep cars free of inside litter. Place heavy objects—which could become missiles in case of a quick stop—in the trunk. In California, two missionaries were slowing down for an intersection when an empty pop bottle rolled from beneath the driver’s seat and up under the brake pedal. With the brakes thus jammed, they smashed into a semitrailer and the car was totaled out. Fortunately no injury more serious than a broken arm resulted, but all for an empty pop bottle. In another case a quick stop brought some heavy books flying from the back window area, whacking the driver on the neck. He was severely cut and had to have stitches. Imagine what a typewriter or an adding machine might have done!

When I was 15, I wasn’t making the best decisions. I was mingling with the wrong crowd, and I was often surrounded by many temptations—some of which I indulged in. At first my decisions were inconsequential, but eventually I found myself in a very dark place. I hid a lot of what I was doing from my family, and I felt so alone. I wasn’t sure where to turn. I truly believed that God didn’t love me.
On one particularly difficult day, I suddenly had the thought that I should start reading the Book of Mormon. I had read it before, but not with a true desire to learn from its messages. On every page I felt warmth in my heart as I found truths from the Savior telling me that I could change with His help. I felt like I wanted to “sing the song of redeeming love” (Alma 5:26).
After studying the Book of Mormon and its Christ-centered messages, I was able to gain the courage I needed to open up about my choices to my mother. As we were returning home from the bus station one day, I talked to her and told her about some of the poor decisions I had been making. I expected her to be angry, but she wasn’t. She didn’t even judge me. Instead, she expressed how much she loved me, and through her love, I felt God’s love for the first time in my life as well.
As I continued praying and reading the scriptures, I mustered up courage once again to speak with my bishop and begin the repentance process. As I asked him if I could meet with him, he invited me into his office, and we began with a prayer. After we spoke, I began to cry in a way I hadn’t ever cried before. I shared all my mistakes with him, and I could literally feel the love of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ lifting the shame and heavy load I had been carrying off my shoulders.
My bishop was nothing but compassionate, causing me to feel the love of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ again. He taught me that the process of repentance was the way to be sanctified and, along with it, forgiven of our mistakes. In that moment, I realized how repentance is truly a gift of love from our Heavenly Father and Savior. I always think of just how much They love me because of the scripture in Doctrine and Covenants 19 where the Savior says, “For behold, I, God, have suffered these things for all, that they might not suffer if they would repent” (verse 16).
I appreciate that because of Jesus Christ and His Atonement, we have the chance to improve and become better. I have experienced the truth that our hearts can be changed when we have sincere intentions and realize Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love us.
Repentance is truly a gift of love from our Heavenly Father and Savior. The blessings I have gained from this experience and many others are greater than I imagined, and “my soul was filled with joy as exceeding as was my pain!” (Alma 36:20). Experiencing the Savior’s healing power in my life has reminded me of how deeply loved we are and always have been.