Gospel Story Finder

This summer I went to Denmark, and I actually began to miss my family (except for the 6:00 A.M. Saturday morning “Smurf’s are on” call). When I returned and stepped off the airplane, there they were—13 people screaming, “Shannon’s back!”

As I wandered through the house in the middle of the night suffering from jet lag, I saw the ten-pound bucket of butter in the refrigerator, stumbled over the assorted pairs of mismatched shoes in the front entry, and opened my lipstick tubes to find that they had all been bitten off or smashed down, and I smiled and said to myself, “I’m home.”

President Hunter was born November 14, 1907, in Boise, Idaho. He was not baptized at age eight. His father was not a member and felt that Howard should wait until he was older to decide about getting baptized.
President Hunter said, “I did have a testimony though. My mother had taught me to pray and to thank Heavenly Father for the beauty of the earth and for the wonderful times that I had at the ranch and by the river and with the Scouts. I also learned to ask Him for the things that I wanted or needed.” When he was twelve years old, he pleaded with his father to let him be baptized and was overjoyed when his father gave him permission.

The bishop was puzzled. A young man tempted by homosexuality was following the bishop’s counsel about prayer, fasting, scripture study, Church involvement, and self-mastery but was still struggling. As they talked, the bishop learned that the young man had been attending group therapy sessions. No guidance had been offered, the young man said; the sessions mostly consisted of detailed, drawn-out discussions of the problem. He found it disturbing, like “adding fuel to the fire I’ve been trying to put out,” he said. In the past, other ward members had been strengthened by therapy sessions. What was the difference?

Pondering the problem during the week, the bishop was led to these words by Elder Boyd K. Packer of the Quorum of the Twelve: “The study of the doctrines of the gospel will improve behavior quicker than a study of behavior will improve behavior. Preoccupation with unworthy behavior can lead to unworthy behavior.” He also read this statement by President Benson: “The Lord works from the inside out. The world works from the outside in. … Christ changes men, who then change their environment. The world would shape human behavior, but Christ can change human nature.”

Feeling the direction of the Spirit, the bishop typed up every statement about rising above homosexuality that he could find in general conference talks over the past 30 years, then asked the young man to read these as part of his gospel study. A week later, the young man told him: “Bishop, the strength and power of those words gave me the will to go forward and a desire to do better. A witness has come to me this week that I can do it.”

The bishop learned from this experience that there is no substitute for the power of the Savior in helping people turn from sin, and that to change lives, counseling must focus on applying principles of the gospel rather than dwelling on the sin.

The young women of the Stevensville Montana Stake wanted to do more than just camp at their last girls’ camp; they also wanted to do some good. Reaching out to needy children around the world, the young women put together 72 hygiene kits and gathered around 250 toys and stuffed animals to be distributed by LDS Humanitarian Services.
This project helped the girls realize how blessed they are to have what they have. Many talked of wanting to do more and said they were grateful that the Church has the ability to send these items to people who are truly in need.

One Sunday, seated in front of the television with my cigarettes and usual bottle of wine, I heard the doorbell. Opening the door, I saw two young men in blue suits, with name tags identifying them as missionaries. The room I invited them into was full of smoke and the smell of alcohol, but they were undeterred and began to question me about my beliefs. Did I believe in God?
That made me stop and think. Though I had been baptized as a little boy, I had never been a churchgoer—I thought religion was not worth it. Rather, I believed in my conscience and the need to be honest with my fellowmen. Yet I surprised myself and answered yes to their question. As they continued and began to teach me about Joseph Smith and the Restoration, it seemed as though I had already heard their words. An indescribable feeling began to come over me, and I loved these young men. When they offered a prayer, I began to cry, and my heart began to swell until I felt it would burst.
We made an appointment for the following Tuesday, and during the interval, my life passed before me as in a film. Until the age of twenty, I had abstained from alcohol. But then a business failure and financial difficulties sent me into a deep personal crisis, compounded by my wife’s illness and two-year convalescence in a distant hospital. I sought comfort in alcohol, and before long I began to drink quantities of strong spirits from morning until night. Add to that the 70 to 100 cigarettes I smoked daily and you can understand that my physical condition deteriorated gradually to the point where I was embarrassed about it.
At one point I entered a hospital to be detoxified, but the doctors were unable to help me and I became even more depressed. I had a good job and a wonderful family, but I needed to get out from under these vices. In desperation I abandoned myself even more completely to alcohol, at one point even attempting suicide. I tried to enter a private clinic for help, but could not afford the treatments. It was at this point that Elders Sorensen and Waterman entered my life.
When they returned for our second meeting, the two missionaries spoke to me of many new things that I did not know but felt were true. When they told me about the Word of Wisdom, I felt my heart sink, and I said “Tell me how I, of all persons, can give up alcohol, since I have tried every way I know how, and have had no success.” They asked me if I believed in God and in the things they had taught me and if I felt that I had faith in the Lord. I replied that I did.
“Good,” they said. “If you will listen to us, we’ll help you and the Lord will give you the power to overcome your problem.” “I’ll be infinitely grateful,” I answered. Their exhortations filled me with joy, with hope, and with faith, and I really desired in my heart to follow their guidance. When I prayed I felt more and more self-confidence, and from that morning, with my newborn courage, I imposed the rule that I would never drink cognac again. And I was able to maintain that rule though I suffered greatly. With the help of the elders, and with humility, I was able to gradually reduce the doses of other alcoholic beverages and of cigarettes. It was not easy, but I felt the Lord near to me, helping me. I felt that I had to do my part and that I would not be alone in this trial.
After a month and a half I was able to overcome my vices. Finally free, I felt ready to be baptized, with my wife, on December 28, 1977. I came up out of the baptismal waters renovated in body and spirit, sure that the Lord forgets our sins if we are truly repentant. I can’t explain what a joy it was to abandon the old me and see myself reborn full of trust in myself and love for my fellowman. I had an immense desire to recover all the lost time showing gratitude to the Lord with a commitment to do everything that he commanded me.
Following my baptism, my health improved day by day. At first I continued to arise in the morning full of aches and pains. Getting up was a painful trial. But after prayer, I was able to go about my work serenely until the evening, when the problems returned. But then, one great day, I arose and realized that I was finally free of the pains. From that time forward I have had no problems.
After a year of Church membership, we were able to go to the temple, where my wife and our three daughters were sealed to me. Now we are truly a united family. I have been blessed with a number of challenging callings in the Church and can bear witness that, with humility and faith in the Lord, there is nothing impossible for man. I know, too, that observance of the Word of Wisdom brings health and strength—and the desire to use that strength in the service of the Lord.

“I am so excited to see my friend again,” one young woman kept telling her parents as she prepared for the special reunion. She had recently returned home after having lived far away. She had looked forward to this moment for a long time.

When the two friends saw each other, they were all smiles. They hugged and laughed as they left together to enjoy becoming reacquainted. However, the parents were surprised when their daughter returned home much earlier than expected.

“What’s wrong?” they asked.

“I was so excited to talk the way we used to, but she just spent the whole time text messaging her other friends.” Her hurt and disappointment were apparent as she declared, “I wish texting had never been invented.”

Following the kind introduction, I think it is appropriate for you to know of an incident in my educational past. Sister Cardon and I enjoyed living in the Boston area during our time at Harvard. For those of you who have lived in or visited the area, you know that the roads are sometimes full of curves over uneven terrain. At the end of the academic year I drove with Sister Cardon to the school to retrieve one of my final papers, whereupon I learned that although my final grade for the course was what I had hoped, the grade for this paper, although respectable, was not.

When we returned to the car, I handed the paper to Sister Cardon, and she began reading as we drove along a curvy, hilly road—not the best experience for one prone to motion nausea. After some time we came to a stop, and Sister Cardon put the paper down and said, “Honey, I just finished reading your paper, and I think I’m going to be sick.”

My only response was, “I’m sorry you feel that way, dear, but evidently it had the same effect on the professor.”

“By the time I reached the house knew something dreadful had happened. I raced through the front door and almost collided head-on with my dad. I looked up into a ghostly white, tear-streaked face, a face I had never seen before. He was trembling all over and could only mutter, ‘She’s gone, your mother’s passed away.’
“Oh, how I loved her! I was stunned. I turned and I began to run. I ran and ran and ran and my tears mixed with the rain. I ran until I was exhausted, but I did not stop. My face was swollen and my head hurt. Still I ran. Then, suddenly I saw from the opposite direction someone coming toward me. I paused and wiped my eyes. Could it be? One of those four Mutual girls, the girls who truly cared about me. One of those girls was running through the rain for me. I began to run again and when we met I threw my arms around that girl and we both collapsed to the ground. I sat there crying, and she cried with me.
“In the years that followed, I became [very close to those] girls. I learned to care, really care about others and to give of myself. I found that by helping others my own problems diminished.
“When the most important day of my life came, I knelt across the altar from my sweetheart and in the reflection of mirrors were those four Mutual girls, standing, with tears running down their cheeks.
“I’ll never know why I had been so important to them. Me, a nobody. I can only thank my Father in Heaven for those girls and pray with all my heart that there are many more like them in his Church.”
The speaker in this story, the first one related in Others by Blaine and Brenton Yorgason, was an inactive member who was failing school and heading for trouble with the law. Then one day, the four girls in her Mutual class appeared on her doorway and invited her to Mutual. She didn’t go, but for months and months afterward the girls visited her weekly, brought her a birthday cake, and visited her every day for three weeks when she was in the hospital. Because they didn’t give up, she eventually began to realize that they really did care about her, and this realization led to her reactivation in the gospel and a total change of life.

Because of the probability that some may join the Church for the material security they think they will find here, missionaries are counseled not to emphasize the Church welfare program in their proselyting. I met an investigator once in New Hampshire who was joining the Church for just that reason. He told me how impressed he was with the welfare program and how much he wanted that security. I told him, “Yes, by all means, if you know about the welfare program, join the Church for that reason. We need all of the help we can get, and you shall be called upon continually to contribute to the welfare of others.” His enthusiasm for baptism faded immediately.

Opra Ouma says that remembering the Young Women values gives her the strength to live the gospel. “Even if I’m not with the LDS young single adults, when I’m out in the world, I can apply the Young Women values and still be safe,” she says.

Opra first learned these values before she was baptized. When she was 17, Opra saw the missionaries on the street one day and wondered who they were. She studied the gospel for a year and was baptized after she turned 18. The community of Latter-day Saints fortifies her spiritually.

“When I’m at the church with fellow young single adults, I feel safe, but when I’m outside there, I don’t feel very safe because most of the time I’m the only Latter-day Saint among the group,” she says. “Sometimes it’s challenging because the standards of the world and the standards of the Church are totally different.”

I’m a convert. But it took me six years to join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
One of the reasons was that growing up, I didn’t have a very good opinion about the Church. If you’d read what I read about it in my school textbook when I was 12 years old, you might have been that way too. The things it said weren’t very nice. And since I’d never met a Latter-day Saint, I accepted what I read as truth.
I grew up in Kentucky, USA. Where I lived, there were very few members of the Church. So I was surprised when the Martinez family moved into our neighborhood when I was 13.
Everybody liked them. They were kind and easy to get along with. They had six kids—which seemed huge! And they had a son my age who quickly became my best friend.
Actually, I think he was everybody’s best friend. There was a light about Mateo that just drew people to him. So even though I thought his church was a little strange, pretty soon that didn’t bother me because of our friendship.
A couple of years later, Mateo and I entered high school. That’s when I met other members of the Church. There were several at our school, and others in the community. Over time, they would talk about their lives and bring up the Church naturally. Eventually I started going to Church activities, played basketball with other youth, and even went to early morning seminary for a few weeks.
I had a lot of good friends who chose to follow good standards, but there was something special about my Latter-day Saint friends. Of course, they didn’t drink or smoke or do drugs. And while some of my friends were getting involved physically with their boyfriend or girlfriend, these ones didn’t. But it was even more than that. There was a light about them that was wholesome. They never pushed the gospel on me—they just lived it. When the moment was right, they would share little things with me.
“They never pushed the gospel on me—they just lived it.”
And the Martinez family was always so open and generous. I was welcome at their house anytime. And their kitchen was always open too!
Still, I was pretty set in my religion, and I still thought some of the things Mateo believed were weird. I also had a strong personality. Even though I mostly lived the standards of the Church, I didn’t want anyone telling me what my standards ought to be.
At the same time, I felt lost spiritually. I think that can happen when you feel drawn toward the light and goodness of the gospel but push it away. Though I believed in God, I struggled to accept that God could or would be actively involved in my life. And yet I was attracted to the light of the gospel in other people.
That’s probably why I decided to join my friends at a Church school when I was 18. We attended Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, USA, where I met even more members of the Church. Good people. Kind people. Filled with light, just like back home. And I still didn’t join the Church.
After that first year in school, I ran out of money and went back to Kentucky to live with my dad. I was 19, and all my friends began to leave to serve missions or were still in Utah.
But the amazing thing was that God put other awesome people in my life. The Martinez family still lived nearby and invited me into their home whenever I wanted. And I learned that there were other Latter-day Saints my age living nearby as well. All of them stood by me as I wrestled with my beliefs.
No one pushed me. No one pressured me. They were just good to me.
Finally, after six long years, I started studying with the missionaries. It took a lot of deep questioning, but with kindness and encouragement of friends, I was finally ready to open my heart, study and pray about the Book of Mormon, recognize the Spirit, and accept baptism.
Of all the things that helped me in my journey, probably the most important was the patient, kind support of other people.
“Of all the things that helped me in my journey, probably the most important was the patient, kind support of other people.”

To understand President McKay and a little bit of what you have emanated here on your campus, he grew up in a day when the eighth grade was the expected education for any young person. Most people in our town didn't even get to the eighth grade but those who did, they had fulfilled what you would think of as a high school education today.

At one time President Mckay's mother, we called her Aunt Jeanette, received an inheritance of $2500. All those around her were advising her, in particular, her brother in law, Isaac McKay, who was a very successful businessman, advised Aunt Jeanette, "Now take that $2500 and invest it and only use the interest for what you want. That would serve you for a long time in your life." Aunt Jeannette declined all the advice. She took the $2500, she provided wagon, team of horses, loaded in the wagon some flour, some potatoes, and other things to eat and keep, put four of her children in the wagon, tied dairy cow on behind the back of the wagon and sent them off 75 miles to Salt Lake City and the University of Utah to go to school. Those four children got a college education when it was almost unheard of, especially in our farming community, population 496, up in the mountains.

That emphasis on education has made all the difference in the world to President McKay and others in his family.

In Minas Gerais, Brazil, it’s never winter. The only seasons are a dry season and a wet season. It can be a hot and humid place! The Primary children in the Conselheiro Lafaiete Branch have learned the blessings that come from wearing their Sunday best, even when it’s very hot.
Sister Patrícia da Costa was serving as Primary president when she began to worry about the dress standards in her Primary. “It’s hard for the children to wear Sunday best because of how hot it is,” she says. “Also, no one had given it much importance before.” Although dressing up for church may seem like a small matter, Sister da Costa knew it would help the Primary children show respect for Heavenly Father. The children would be establishing good habits for the future.
The Primary set goals. Families got Sunday clothes for the children who didn’t have them. They even held a “parade” in Primary to show proper Sunday clothing.
It wasn’t easy, but they reached their goal. “On the day of the Primary presentation in sacrament meeting, everyone was dressed appropriately,” says Sister da Costa. “It was wonderful!”
Many members of the branch have noticed the difference. The children are more reverent, and now they decide to dress up on Sunday without their parents’ telling them. And there has been one more unexpected blessing: less-active parents have started coming to church again, thanks to the examples of their children.

Toward the end of World War II, my father was drafted into the German army and sent to the western front, leaving my mother alone to care for our family. Though I was only three years old, I can still remember this time of fear and hunger. We lived in Czechoslovakia, and with every passing day the war came nearer and the danger grew greater.
Finally, during the cold winter of 1944, my mother decided to flee to Germany, where her parents were living. She bundled us up and somehow managed to get us on one of the last refugee trains heading west. Traveling during that time was dangerous. Everywhere we went, the sound of explosions, the stressed faces, and ever-present hunger reminded us that we were in a war zone.
Along the way the train stopped occasionally to get supplies. One night during one of these stops, my mother hurried out of the train to search for some food for her four children. When she returned, to her great horror, the train and her children were gone!
She was weighed down with worry; desperate prayers filled her heart. She frantically searched the large and dark train station, urgently crisscrossing the numerous tracks while hoping against hope that the train had not already departed.
Perhaps I will never know all that went through my mother’s heart and mind on that black night as she searched through a grim railroad station for her lost children. That she was terrified, I have no doubt. I am certain it crossed her mind that if she did not find this train, she might never see her children again. I know with certainty: her faith overcame her fear, and her hope overcame her despair. She was not a woman who would sit and bemoan tragedy. She moved. She put her faith and hope into action.
And so she ran from track to track and from train to train until she finally found our train. It had been moved to a remote area of the station. There, at last, she found her children again.
I have often thought about that night and what my mother must have endured. If I could go back in time and sit by her side, I would ask her how she managed to go on in the face of her fears. I would ask about faith and hope and how she overcame despair.
While that is impossible, perhaps today I could sit by your side and by the side of any who might feel discouraged, worried, or lonely. Today I would like to speak with you about the infinite power of hope.

When I was a Laurel more than 15 years ago, our stake Young Women president was a real heroine to me and many other girls. Her beautiful, curly brown hair impressed me, but she was also smart and articulate, a spiritual woman, a returned missionary, and a newlywed. She wore nice modest clothes, showing us how attractive we could be without compromising our standards. I remember her personifying every dream I had ever dreamed for my own future.
Once she was the speaker at a fireside for the Young Women. When we entered the chapel, we saw her gorgeous white wedding gown displayed in a prominent place. What can be more exciting than a wedding dress when you’re a dreaming 16-year-old? I imagined a fireside about boys and our bright futures.
But when our Young Women president started speaking, it became clear that this was not her plan. She started talking about chastity and how important it was to keep ourselves morally clean. She stood at the pulpit with notes and a pen and talked emphatically about these crucial matters.
All of a sudden the unthinkable happened. She gestured as she spoke and somehow flipped ink from her fountain pen across the wedding dress. The ink made a big stain on the white fabric. We were devastated.
I don’t remember exactly what she said next. It was something about our being as clean and pure as her white dress and that sexual transgressions, however small they might seem, would stain us just as the ink had stained the dress. I recall never ever wanting to be anything but clean and pure. It was a decision I had already made subconsciously, but now it was unforgettably engraved upon my heart.
After she had made her point about remaining clean or becoming clean, she informed us that the ink was invisible ink from a prank store and that it would disappear in a couple of minutes. She hadn’t tried it before, so we all sat there hoping it would work. It did.
Since that day this object lesson has had a special place in my mind. I want to appear before my Heavenly Father as pure as that white dress.
Anja Klarin, Borås Ward, Göteborg Sweden Stake

Although she came from a family with few resources, Sister Patience Ngalula, from Kananga, DRC, had a passion to be a journalist. She finished her secondary studies and then volunteered to work without pay at a radio/television station. She learned many things, and after one year she was hired at a radio station. She then had funds to help her family and to complete her professional studies. “I now have a very good job at a radio station in Kinshasa whose content is especially dedicated to children. I remain positive, ready to serve and have great concern for the well-being of others.”

Many years ago a couple of fellow airline captains and I decided to fulfill a boyhood dream of restoring an antique airplane. Together we purchased a worn-down 1938 Piper Cub and started the work of returning it to its original form. The project was a labor of love. It had special meaning for me because I had learned to fly in a similar airplane when I was a young man.
This airplane was first built only 35 years after the Wright brothers made their famous first flight. Just thinking of that makes me feel very old.
The engine did not have an electric starter; as you were priming the engine from the cockpit, someone else on the ground would grab hold of the propeller and hurl it with might until the engine would run on its own. Each engine start was a moment of excitement and bravery.
Once the plane was airborne, it became clear the Piper Cub was not built for speed. As a matter of fact, when there was a strong headwind, it seemed as though we were not moving at all. I remember flying together with my teenage son, Guido, above the autobahn in Germany, and sure enough, the cars below passed us comfortably!
But, oh, how I loved this little plane! It was the perfect way to experience the wonder and beauty of flight. You could hear, feel, smell, taste, and see what flying was all about. The Wright brothers expressed it this way: “There is [nothing] equal to that which aviators enjoy while being carried through the air on great white wings.”1

The Coopers have been reading in the Book of Mormon as they study Come, Follow Me.
How come the people kept getting wicked again and again after they were blessed so much?
Yeah. It’s like they just kept forgetting.
A little later, over ice-cream sundaes …
Heavenly Father gives us lots of blessings. What if we started writing them in journals? So we won’t forget.
We could write down the extra-nice things people do for us too.
Like me letting you have the rest of the whipped cream.
That night …
Hmmm. I’m having trouble deciding how to start my journal.
Just say, “I, Matt, having goodly parents and a great sister …”
“… goodly parents and a funny sister …”
Keeping a blessings journal is a great idea. I’d do it myself if I could hold a pen!

At the beginning of my freshman year on my high school basketball team, I told my coach that Sunday practices were out for me because I had church. The team practiced from 10:00 a.m. to noon, but I never went.
Then during my sophomore year, things changed. “I moved Sunday practice so everyone can go to church first,” my coach told us. “Everybody’s going to be at practice at 3:00 p.m.”
Sports is a religion here in Louisiana. But now I had to explain to my coach that not practicing on Sunday was an all-day thing out of reverence. It wasn’t easy.
“Hey, Coach,” I texted him, “I wanted to let you know I can’t make practice on Sunday for the same reasons as last year. I believe the whole Sunday is the Sabbath, and my family and I don’t do any sports on that day.”
I was really worried my coach would be upset and kick me off the team. But in his text back to me, he said, “I completely respect this decision. You are one of the hardest workers in our program. I can’t promise you’ll score like Steph Curry. Ha-ha. But I can promise that you put yourself in a great position to help your team because of your work ethic.”
It’s not easy to say no in a situation like that. And not going to practice on Sunday doesn’t mean the Lord will bless you to be some great athlete. You still have to work hard. But the blessings are there if you have an eternal perspective.
Merrick R., Louisiana, USA

When we came to Copenhagen, Denmark, we waited there until there were about 300 that were going to Utah. Anthon H. Lund, who just before he died was the counselor to President Heber J. Grant, had charge of the company to Utah. We left Copenhagen to go to Hull in England over the North Sea. When we started, the weather was fine and there were the same joyful songs of the Saints as when we left Norway. Some even danced. But soon the mountainous waves began to roll. It was not long before some began to make haste to the side of the ship. Oh, didn’t they feed the fish! I laughed at them and wondered what was the matter with them. I tell you I didn’t laugh long. My turn soon came. But we arrived in Hull safe and sound, and there we boarded the train for Liverpool. We got there in about eight hours’ ride, and there we boarded the steamer Nevada for New York, North America.
It took us 14 days to cross the Atlantic. Some of the way it was very stormy, and I was seasick all the way. But we landed in New York safe and sound. There we boarded the train for Utah. In about four days we arrived in Salt Lake City, July 17, 1872, late in the evening. Before coming to the station the president of our company, Anthon H. Lund, told us that when we arrived at the station, a good many of us would meet relatives and friends, and some of them would take us home with them. But he said, “Do not let any of them take you home with them just then, for you will all be taken to a banquet. Instead, take them with you to the banquet.”
It was then about ten o’clock in the evening. The name of the house I did not know, but it was large enough for all of us to sit down at the tables at once. As far as I can remember, there were about 300 of us. They had all gone in but myself, for I did not think I belonged. I knew I was not a Mormon, though all the rest of them were. As I have told before, I was rather bitter. But Brother Lund came out and saw me a ways off. He came over to me and asked me where my parents were. I said they had gone in but I didn’t belong. He then took me by the arm over to the door and said in Danish, “Please go in. You are welcome.” So, of course, I went in. I tell you it was the best supper I had ever seen, all kinds of good things. When we got through with the meal, it was about midnight, but the tables were still spread and plenty of all kinds of good things on the tables. We were to go and help ourselves. It was all for us.
There was no one who called for us, so we stayed around in that hall till morning. I don’t know just what the rest of them did, but I lay down on a bench by the table and fell asleep. When I awakened, the sun was up and the rest were awake and busy. I didn’t wait for breakfast, for there was still plenty of food on the tables, and we were told that we were welcome to all and to help ourselves. I did so, and I surely had a good breakfast that morning as well as supper the night before.