Gospel Story Finder

Gerrit W. Gong(97) After feeling compassion for a shoplifter, a friend of Gerrit W. Gong begins to understand Jesus Christ and His Atonement.

President Smith showed an example of such kindness in a meeting where an accident involving a Church-owned automobile was discussed. An elderly man driving a vegetable truck with no insurance had caused the mishap. After some discussion, it was recommended that the Church pursue the matter in a court of law. However, President Smith spoke up: “Yes, we could do that. And if we press with all vigor, we might even succeed in taking the truck away from the poor man; then how would he make a living?” The committee reversed its recommendation and let the matter rest.15

I had a lovely exchange at the Saturday Review with, I guess, a sweet lady. I had rejected some of her poems. I have to reject a lot of them. I get about 500 a week, and I can only accept two. But she took my rejection personally, as many people do, and wrote me a hot letter. I had not remembered the poem, but she said, “I suppose you rejected my poem because it was about God.”
I had to reply. “Dear Madam: No, I did not reject your poem because it was about God. I rejected it because I could not conquer a feeling that you were not equal to your subject.”

They were looking for an all-day party that was short on cost and long on fun—and they found one. The young people of the Providence [Utah] Ward headed for the nearby hills and skiing, tubing, tobogganing, snowmobiling, and lots of good times.
The group went to Beaver Mountain. For some skiers it meant perfecting stem christies, but for others it meant struggling with first-attempt snowplows.
Denise Burton recalled her first time on skis. “I was really frustrated. My boot kept slipping off my ski, and I finally got so mad that I took off my skis and walked down the hill. But it was fun.”
After hours on the slopes there were lots of huddled masses yearning to be warm as they filled themselves with hot chili in the lodge. Dessert was two ski movies.
Everyone in the Providence Aaronic Priesthood and Young Women groups will remember the show-offs, cold chair lifts, and helpfulness of friends that day. Many expressed feelings similar to Todd Hammond’s when he said, “As I was up in the mountains, I thought that there had to be a God to create this beautiful scenery.”

Many years ago my twin brother and I left our home in Göteborg, Sweden, to serve the Lord as full-time missionaries in England. During our flight to London, numerous thoughts ran through my head. For one thing, my brother and I would have to separate in London, and for the first time in our lives we would not be together every day. But the thing that worried me most was that I didn’t know the English language well. At that time missionaries from Sweden did not receive language instruction or any other training; they were sent straight from home to the mission field. I thought of my twin brother, who was gifted in languages. My interests leaned more toward technical subjects, and for this reason I had not spent much time studying languages in school.
After I arrived in London and then finally in Birmingham, the headquarters of the England Central Mission, the mission president and his wife greeted me with huge smiles and all possible warmth. Everyone I met at the mission office was happy and enthusiastic and spoke with me about things such as study guides, tracting, companions, and so forth. But I could not understand much because their language was new and foreign.
Despite the kindness of the people around me, I felt overwhelmed. How could I ever testify of the gospel in this strange language? I spent much of that first night on my knees, asking Heavenly Father why He had sent me here and if there had possibly been a mistake.
The following day an assistant to the mission president showed me a scripture—Ether 12:27. I got out my Swedish Book of Mormon and read: “If men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them” (Ether 12:27).
If anyone had a weakness, I did. Questions arose in my mind: Do you believe what is written in this verse? If so, do you have the courage to exercise the faith required? And can you humble yourself before the Lord so that your weakness can become your strength?
As a struggling young missionary, I thought back on this experience and realized that because I had received a confirmation from the Lord that the Book of Mormon is true, then what I read in the book of Ether was also true. I knelt in humble prayer before my Heavenly Father and expressed my inner feelings about my mission call and my language weakness. I promised Him that I would get up early every morning to study and memorize the 70 pages of lessons and scriptures we were to use to teach the people. I told Him I had faith that He, in return, would help me learn the language so that I could testify of Him and of His Son.
Early every morning thereafter, I prayed to Heavenly Father and said, “Here I am; let us start.” In a relatively short time I was able to testify that the scripture in Ether is true. My ability to speak English—a weakness when I first started serving my mission—became a strength to me.
This experience has been a blessing to me all of my life. Many times I have thought new Church callings were beyond my abilities. Then the Spirit has testified to me and reminded me of the experience I had as a young missionary in England. With great gratitude these many years I have felt strength radiating from those words that are recorded in the book of Ether. Through the power of the Spirit, they can give each of us strength, guidance, and hope.

Dec. 1, 1853 I was walking on Nashua St. in Boston, Mass. I saw a man that seemed to be a stranger. I wanted to know if he was L. D. Saint. He said he was. I asked him where. Said he was from Utah, going to Europe on a mission. I asked to see his papers and presented my own and read his (Jesse B. Martin). The tears came into his eyes. I believe he had 3 cents cash. Brother Israel Evans came soon after. We helped to get the means to pay the passage to Europe on the ship Daniel Webster.

Sister Bingham told the story of a girl who saw a home with shining golden windows. Her own home seemed shabby in comparison. One day, the girl rode her bike across the valley to visit the house. When she got closer, she saw it was abandoned and falling apart. When she turned around, she was surprised to see a house with golden windows across the valley. It was her own house! The sun on the windows made the difference. When we count our blessings instead of comparing ourselves with others, we’ll see the goodness of God in our lives.

Several months before my mission I felt I needed to know for myself. I had read the Book of Mormon on my own and with my family, but I didn’t feel I had a testimony. Now, in the middle of mission preparation, I felt I needed to make sure I had a testimony—something I should have done long ago.
As part of this preparation I was taking a temple preparation class. One evening in that class I was thinking to myself, “How can I go to the temple and prepare for a mission if I don’t have a testimony?”
I left the class confused and wanting to know the truth. It was dark. I didn’t know what to do or where to go, so I sat in my car in the parking lot. I could only imagine what Joseph Smith must have gone through in his search for truth.
As I sat in my car, I felt the urge to pray. I prayed with all the faith and energy I had. I felt that I really talked to God. But when I finished I didn’t feel anything different. I felt discouraged.
As I left the stake center’s parking lot, I decided to take the long way home. This was a route I would usually take if I wanted to think or get away from traffic. As I was driving and thinking, I came to a four-way stop. At that stop sign the Spirit came over me and bore witness to me that everything I was doing was true. I began to cry. The Spirit had influenced me so strongly that I had to pull over to the side of the road. There I thanked my Heavenly Father for that special witness.
I don’t know why the answer to my prayers came at that time. I was just thankful it came. I am now a full-time missionary in the Illinois Chicago North Mission. It hasn’t been easy. But whenever I have doubts, I am reminded of my experience at the stop sign and the counsel the Lord gave to Oliver Cowdery:
“Verily, verily, I say unto you, if you desire a further witness, cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart, that you might know concerning the truth of these things.
“Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?” (D&C 6:22–23).
All the doubts and fears I have had on my mission have been erased by that special witness at the four-way stop when the Spirit spoke peace to my mind and heart.

Daily study of the scriptures is another important family activity. I remember when my son was seven years old. He was taking a shower one night during a storm when we lost the power in our home. My wife called to him and told him to hurry to finish his shower and to then take a candle and come slowly downstairs for our family prayer. She warned him to be careful to not drop the candle on the carpet because it could start a fire and the house could burn down. Several minutes later he came down the stairs struggling to hold the candle in one hand, and with his other arm he was carrying his scriptures. His mother asked him why he was bringing his scriptures. His answer to her was, “Mom, if the house burns down, I must save my scriptures!” We knew that our efforts to help him to love the scriptures had been planted in his heart forever.

My husband and I were living in New Zealand during 2012 when Parliament was debating a bill that would redefine marriage and the family. We read the bill and were concerned about how it would affect religious freedom and the sanctity of motherhood, fatherhood, and marriage.
As part of the process, Parliament invited everyone in the country to send in their opinions about the proposed bill. We knew that the Lord’s doctrine on marriage and family was clear on this issue, and we felt we needed to speak up. We noticed a box on the form that we could check if we were willing to stand before Parliament to defend our position. My husband and I looked at each other and said, “Let’s check the box!”
We received word several months later that we were chosen to present before a Parliamentary committee. After much prayer and fasting, my husband felt directed to share thoughts from Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf,1 and I felt a strong prompting to go back to the moment when President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) presented “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” in the 1995 Relief Society general meeting.2 We both felt led to know what to say; it was undeniable. We also knew it was going to be very hard. We decided to put everything in God’s hands and said, “We’ll do what you want us to do; we’ll say what you want us to say,”3 even if it may be unpopular. We became more concerned about what would be recorded in heaven versus what would be recorded in Parliament.
As the day arrived and they called our names, they told us we had the option of presenting separately or together. We immediately thought, “What symbolism! Of course we will go up and defend the doctrine of the family together.”
After we gave our statements, members of Parliament started their questioning. They didn’t seem happy with what we said, and answering their questions wasn’t easy. Eventually our time was up, but before we left, we handed each member of Parliament and the press a copy of our statements and a copy of “The Family: A Proclamation to the World.”
This was a difficult experience, but it changed our lives. We learned that it is possible (and necessary) to talk to others about the Lord’s doctrine on marriage and family—and that it can be done with courage, clarity, and kindness. Our relationship with Heavenly Father has been strengthened, and our testimony of the doctrine of the family has grown. We testify of the tremendous blessings and joy that have come into our lives as a result of this experience.

Fredrick A., 17, says that when his friend Robert invited him to church, he felt the Spirit so strongly that he couldn’t deny it.
“When I got to church, the Spirit of God was sent upon me,” Fredrick says. “As I was given the Book of Mormon, I started reading it. If I don’t understand, I always ask my branch president and pray.”
Robert (left) and Fredrick have remained friends since Robert introduced him to the gospel.

When my husband, Joe, told me he wanted to get baptized, I was anything but excited. I had grown up in the Church, but over the years I had struggled with certain ideas and policies. As a young adult, I eventually stopped going to Church meetings and started studying other religions as well as nonreligious lifestyles.
During this time of exploration, I met Joe, and we began living together. My family was concerned about me, but we always had a great relationship. Joe and I often went to family and religious events to support them. We lived this way for four years, and I was happy with it.
Joe and I eventually got married, and soon I became pregnant. During this time, we went to a family reunion with my side of the family. Every day during the reunion, my family held a devotional. Each individual family gave a lesson or bore their testimonies. One devotional was about how amazing my grandparents’ lives had been and what a great role the Church had played in that. Many also talked about how the gospel had brought strength and happiness into their own lives.
When we returned home, Joe was determined to meet with the missionaries. When I asked why, he said, “I need to know for myself what your family members were talking about.” I told him to go ahead. I figured he’d get the basics and then call it good. But after three lessons, Joe wanted to be baptized!
“This is so fast,” I said. “Are you sure you know what it means to be a member of the Church?”
“It means we’re going to go to church and figure it out,” he said with a smile.
I wasn’t terribly excited, but we agreed that he could keep taking the lessons, though he wouldn’t commit to baptism until I was OK with it.
After a few weeks, my feelings about the Church hadn’t changed. But Joe had. He had discovered faith and prayer. He had a sense of peace and confidence that he hadn’t felt before. And it was beautiful to see. I decided that no matter what I was feeling, I couldn’t take this away from him. We determined that if he was going on this journey, we were going to do it together. So Joe got baptized.
A lot of people at the baptism knew I’d been raised in the Church and assumed I must be thrilled. But I felt a mixture of pride in Joe for being so brave, and fear for what this was going to mean for our life together.

He looks back on his service in the British Mission as “the major spiritual turning point of my life—the beginning of my beginnings” in mature gospel growth. Under President T. Bowring Woodbury, he gained experience and seasoning as a missionary. Then, with the arrival of a new mission president—Elder Marion D. Hanks of the Seventy—Elder Holland’s future changed forever.

“President Hanks taught me to love the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon,” Elder Holland says. “He had a profound influence on my life.” Before his mission, Elder Holland had intended to become a medical doctor. But, he explains, “I came home from my mission believing that God intended me to be a teacher.”

“Jeffrey Holland is by nature a teacher,” says Elder Hanks, now an emeritus member of the Seventy. “He is a gentleman, a scholar, and a diplomat—but in all those things he is a teacher.”

As his mission president, Elder Hanks saw some exceptional qualities in young Elder Holland and made him part of a traveling team of trainers. Their assignment was to help other missionaries become disciples of Jesus Christ. Elder Hanks says Jeffrey Holland “blossomed into a discipleship, even then centered in Jesus Christ,” and responded diligently to his mission president’s call to teach from the Book of Mormon. Elder Hanks says that Elder Holland’s love for that book and his ability to teach from it have grown continuously stronger through the years.

In 1959, grandfather gifted to the Church, by way of declaration, part of the land belonging to the Faalogo (paramount chief) family title in the village of Paia, Savai’i. The declaration (pulefaamau) was published as required by law in Samoa’s national newspaper, called ‘Savali,’ in September 1959. The declaration was subsequently approved and registered by the Samoa Lands and Titles Court.
Part of the declaration published was “this piece of land has been set aside for religious matters and an area is made available as an access road to it for use by the congregation of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-days Saints, that they may use it every day as needed by that Church for religious matters.” (“ua tuueseina atu e ia lea fasi fanua mo Mataupu tau Lotu ma le avanoa o se ala e ui i ai ia aoga i le aulotu a le Ekalesia a Iesu Keriso o le Au Paia o Aso e Gata Ai ia faapea ona latou faaaogaina mo aso uma lava . . . e mana’omia pea ai e lena Ekalesia lea fasi fanua mo Mataupu tau lotu.”) Since that time, the Church has used that land for religious matters. It now has a ward worshipping there, using the chapel, teaching areas, a cultural hall and a playing court.

As time went on, being surrounded by the normalcy of others drinking alcohol made it difficult for me to keep my standards. Going to pubs with clients and coworkers was a regular circumstance I would find myself in. I grew tired of having to explain myself when I turned down a drink, and sometimes I just wanted to fit in.
But beyond wanting to fit in, I wanted to be an example of a disciple of Jesus Christ, so I learned a few ways to help me resist temptation:
I prayed for strength each morning to make good decisions.
I often listened to conference talks or hymns on my way to work.
I kept my favorite scripture taped to my bathroom mirror to read each day: “Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things” (Alma 26:12).
I enlisted the help of my closest coworkers, asking them to support me when others would offer me “just one drink.” They could tell when I was feeling uncomfortable and would kindly jump in and order me a “sparkling water on the rocks” to help me avoid feeling awkward during these gatherings.
I worked with many other religious individuals who had similar morals. There were a few practicing Muslims whom I bonded with, and we often sat together during work functions so we could have strength in numbers. Surrounding myself with like-minded people who respected my standards helped me immensely (see Ecclesiastes 4:9–10).
I strove to focus on my baptismal covenant to “always remember Him” (see Doctrine and Covenants 20:77, 79), which helped me feel the Spirit more abundantly. I had promised to follow God and be a disciple of Christ, and seeking to always remember the Savior helped me keep an eternal and infinite perspective in the most finite moments of temptation.

(46) Lucy of the comic strip Peanuts makes excuses for dropping fly balls.

Jim Jewell, who worked on the scriptures translation team at Church headquarters, tells a story of how close to home the scriptures can come when translated into the language of the heart:
“In translating the Book of Mormon into Sesotho, the language spoken in the African nation of Lesotho, we needed to find someone to help us evaluate the work of the translation team. The project supervisor, Larry Foley, identified a member of the Church from Lesotho who was a graduate student at Utah State University. In Lesotho, education is conducted in English, so this lady and her children had studied in English from the first grade on, but they still conversed at home in Sesotho.
“She agreed to work on the translation. Her evaluation of the chapters we sent to her was indeed helpful. We routinely submitted specific questions regarding vocabulary and language structure to which she provided helpful commentary. However, we noted that she had highlighted in yellow many verses unrelated to our questions. When we asked her about the highlighted verses, she said: ‘Oh, those are verses that touched my heart deeply which I had never fully understood in English. I highlighted them so that I could share them with my children.’”

“Good-bye, Mother,” said Ricky. “I’m going for a walk. I’m going to walk to the corner all by myself.”
Ricky walked down the steps of his town house and looked around. The sun was shining high up in the sky. Next door, Mr. Paul was sitting on his front steps. He said, “How are you this fine day, Ricky?”
“I’m fine, Mr. Paul. I’m going to walk to the corner all by myself.”
“That sounds like a good walk. When you come back, would you like to have some cookies with me?” asked Mr. Paul.
“Yes, thank you,” Ricky said. He waved to Mr. Paul and walked down the sidewalk. He looked at the tree in front of Mrs. John’s house. He liked this tree. Its shade felt cool. Ricky patted the tree.
Ricky walked on. What’s that in front of Bill and Becky’s house? he wondered. Ricky got down on his hands and knees to look closer. A whole bunch of ants was trying to move a big piece of bread. Ricky wanted to help them, but he wasn’t sure where they wanted it to go. Besides, he liked to do things by himself, so maybe the ants did too.
When Ricky stood up again, some birds in the next yard flew away. Ricky went over to see what they had been doing. Someone had scattered pieces of bread on the lawn for the birds. That’s where the ants got their bread, he decided.
Ricky walked on and came to the alley. This was the first time that he had ever crossed it by himself. He stopped. He looked. He listened. Ricky didn’t see or hear a car coming, so he walked quickly to the other side. Then he turned and looked back at his own house. It seemed a long way off, but he wasn’t afraid. After all, he had just crossed the alley safely by himself.
Ricky decided to run the rest of the way to the corner. He liked to run. Suddenly he saw a fuzzy caterpillar. Ricky stopped and carefully picked it up. Mother likes surprises. I’ll take it home to her, Ricky decided. Then he walked on toward the corner, carrying the caterpillar gently in his hand.
There’s the mailbox! Ricky said to himself. Touching it meant that he had really gone to the corner all by himself. Ricky gave a sigh of pure pleasure. Now that he had walked to the corner by himself, he would go back and give the caterpillar to his mother and ask if he could have some of Mr. Paul’s cookies. Ricky would tell Mr. Paul about all the things he had seen on his walk. Mr. Paul would like that almost as much as Ricky would like the cookies. They liked to share that way.

Earth’s gravity pulls my body
to the brittle ground,
twisting weak ankles and scarred feet.
Struggling beyond limits
my joints tire, until they
refuse to hold me upright.
I rest and read of Him
who healed the lame, let the blind
see the sun.
My body yearns for the day
when He will carry me
on eagle’s wings.
I will be in His arms and He will
lift me far from
the grasp of gravity.

Squinting at the bright winter sky, I was sure we were going to have a mild, sunny Christmas. This was somewhat of a disappointment, as I had come to love the snowy Christmases of Colorado. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an icy snowball splatting against my neck.
“Ha ha! Gotcha!” screamed my little brother as he scurried away from me.
It was the day before Christmas. At 13, I was old enough to be left in charge of the house while our parents went into town 10 miles away to pick up previously purchased Christmas gifts. So that we wouldn’t prematurely discover our presents, Mom and Dad had cleverly arranged to leave them at the stores until Christmas Eve.
Trying to make the time go faster on what always seemed like the longest day of the year, my three younger brothers and I were playing in the three-day-old, crusted snow. We had started out making a snowman, but before long we were in a wild snowball fight.
“Ha ha ha. Gotcha back!” I yelled as I tackled my brother and the two of us fell, laughing, into a snowbank.
Although our family had moved to Denver more than six years before, it was still surprising to me how quickly the Colorado weather could change. Before our snowball fight had ended, the sky became overcast and, minutes after that, snow began to pelt the ground in furious streaks of gray.
Remembering that my parents had left me in charge, I gathered my brothers into the house. We spent the rest of the afternoon peering out at the driving snow, so thick now that the houses across the street were only dim shadows. The blanket of snow reached two feet, but still the heavy flakes continued to fall. I tried to sound confident as I told my brothers that our parents must be on their way home.
As evening drew near, one little brother playfully jumped off the front porch into the new snow. Were we ever surprised when all three feet of him disappeared into the snowy white! He reappeared looking like Frosty the Snowman.
Now it was early evening, and I was beginning to feel as grim as the quickly blackening sky. No parents. No phone call. Four frightened children alone in a storm on Christmas Eve.
Finally the phone rang. My heart beat rapidly as I answered, “Hello?”
It was my mother. My spirits rose but quickly sank again when she told me what had happened. Mom and Dad were completing their errands when the blizzard had struck, coming on so suddenly and with such force that driving became impossible. Drivers left their cars in the roads and walked to whatever shelter they could find.
After trying to get home all afternoon, our parents finally gave up, left the Christmas gifts in the car, and forged through the waist-deep snow toward the house of some friends. Mom was calling from their house.
I could feel her sadness and worry as she told me they wouldn’t be able to make it home for Christmas. “Listen, honey, you’ve got to take care of your brothers and do whatever you can to make it a happy Christmas. We don’t know when we’ll be able to get back home.”
Although I was relieved my parents were safe, my heart was heavy as I hung up the phone. “Some Christmas!” I said to myself. How could I possibly make it happy?
My younger brothers still believed in Santa. What was I supposed to tell them? There would be no Santa, no presents, and worst of all, no parents.
I could hardly look at my brothers’ dismayed faces when I told them we’d be all alone for Christmas. But when my youngest brother started to cry, I made up my mind that somehow Christmas was still going to happen.
“Hey, guys, this’ll be great,” I exclaimed with hope. “We can stay up as late as we want and do something fun and different tonight.” The boys’ moods began to brighten. We decided to gather our sleeping bags together and spend the night underneath the Christmas tree.
Pajama-clad, we gathered in the family room, cozied up in sleeping bags, gulped hot chocolate, and read the entire Christmas story from Luke. “Fear not, for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy” (Luke 2:10).
There were no presents, no Christmas Eve parties, no Santa, not even parents, but something magical happened that night. We felt the peace and comfort of the Holy Spirit, which testified of Jesus Christ, who had come into this world to become our Savior. We felt this joy, this warmth, this feeling of love for our Savior and for each other—and that was all we needed. Looking back, it was one of the happiest Christmas Eves I can remember, that night when four children discovered the true joy of Christmas.
In the morning we awoke to weather that all but betrayed the storm of the previous day. All we could see was the warm light of the sun dancing off a frozen sea of snow. It was the loveliest Christmas morning I had ever seen.
As I sat enjoying the incredible scene, I was surprised to see two large objects racing toward our house. “It’s Santa’s sleigh!” exclaimed my youngest brother, amazed to see anything traversing this kind of snow. But the two snowmobiles which soon pulled up in our front yard brought something far better than Santa and his sleigh could possibly have brought us.
We ran to the door to greet two very relieved and joyous parents. Mom and Dad gathered us in their arms and explained that our neighbors, hearing of our plight, had given up their Christmas morning to make the long trip on their snowmobiles to bring our family together for Christmas. Mom and Dad were teary-eyed as they told us how happy they were to be safely home with us.
Later, as we sat down to Christmas dinner, I marveled at how we could be so joyful when there were no presents to open and no parties to enjoy.
But as I looked around the table at the jubilant faces of my family, I realized that, even as a child, you don’t need presents, parties, or Santa to feel joy at Christmas. The remarkable joy of Christmas comes from gifts money cannot buy—the companionship of loved ones, feelings of the Spirit, and, most importantly, the gift of the Son of God.