Gospel Story Finder

Just a few months after I made my full commitment to the Lord that I would give my life to His service if He so desired, I was presiding over the Canada Toronto Mission. During that mission, President Spencer W. Kimball called me to spend the rest of my life in the service of the Lord as a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy. In 1985, I was called to be an Apostle.

Once I went camping on the beach with my family, a few friends, and my dog, Max. We swam and played all day. Then we watched fireworks when it got dark. We all had a fantastic time.
When the fireworks ended, I looked for Max. But he was gone! I panicked and yelled that Max was missing. As tears poured down my face, we all looked for him in the woods. I felt a small voice tell me to pray, so I did. But my whole body felt limp like noodles, and I was scared for Max.
We didn’t find him, so we hiked back to our tent. I kept praying in my head, but I started to lose hope. I cried myself to sleep.
A few hours later, my parents shook me awake. Max was sitting right next to me! My parents had heard the sound of Max’s collar jingling outside our tent. I held him tightly and quietly thanked God for answering my prayers.

Primary children in Staffordshire, England, visited the Preston England Temple on a stake temple day. They had fun exploring the temple grounds and learning more about the temple.

“Just two short years ago, I did not have any purpose in life. When I walked the streets, I was scared that people would ask, ‘How are you?’ Finally, two missionaries helped me find the love of Christ. I will find people who have the same feelings I had and show them the purpose of life.”

One evening in April 1836, for example, Elder Parley P. Pratt had retired early with pressing worries and a heavy heart. He didn’t know how he was going to meet his financial obligations. His wife had been seriously ill, and his aged mother had come to live with him. A year earlier the house he had been building had gone up in flames.

While he was deep in thought, a knock came at the door. Elder Heber C. Kimball entered and, filled with the spirit of prophecy, told Elder Pratt that he should travel to Toronto, Canada, where he would “find a people prepared for the fulness of the gospel” and that “many [would] be brought to the knowledge of the truth.”

Despite his worries, Elder Pratt departed. When he arrived in Toronto, at first no one seemed interested in hearing what he had to say.

Among those he met was John Taylor, who had been a Methodist preacher. John received Elder Pratt courteously but coolly. John Taylor had heard distorted rumors about a new sect, their “golden bible,” and stories of angels appearing to an “unlearned youth, reared in the backwoods of New York.”

A wise man, John Taylor had been seeking the truth all his life. He listened to what Elder Pratt had to say. Among other things, the stranger from America promised that anyone who investigated the gospel could know for himself, through the influence of the Holy Ghost, that it was true.

At one point John Taylor asked, “What do you mean by this Holy Ghost? … [Will it give] a certain knowledge of the principles that you believe in?”

The Apostle replied, “Yes, … and if it will not, then I am an impostor.”

Hearing this, John Taylor took up the challenge, saying, “If I find his religion true, I shall accept it, no matter what the consequences may be; and if false, then I shall expose it.”

Not only did he accept the challenge, but he “received that Spirit through obedience to the Gospel.” Soon he knew for himself what millions of others have since known, that the gospel of Jesus Christ has been restored to the earth.

Eventually this man who had devoted his entire life to seeking the truth became the third President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

The revelation in Doctrine and Covenants 71 tells Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon to go and preach in an effort to ease unfriendly feelings that had arisen against the Church due to criticisms from members who had lost their faith. Over 100 years later, Elder Spencer W. Kimball of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles had a similar experience preaching in defense of the Church.
During a visit to Otavalo, Ecuador, in 1965, Elder Kimball told the missionaries to present the Book of Mormon to the native Otavalans. However, the missionaries met resistance when Otavalans began spreading lies about them in the nearby villages, and the missionaries struggled to overcome the falsehoods.
Two years later, Elder Kimball joined a few members and missionaries in a meeting near a local bus stop. As local residents got off buses, missionaries invited them to hear from a living Apostle of Jesus Christ. Soon, about 20 people gathered. As the missionaries started their meeting, the crowd grew to more than 100.
Then Elder Kimball spoke. He told of the coming of Jesus Christ in the Americas. He pointed to the sky and spoke of the still, small voice from the heavens that announced the appearance of the Son of God, as found in the Book of Mormon. Elder Kimball recalled, “Every eye followed my motion to the sky as though the Savior were actually there coming through the thin clouds.”1
After this, missionaries kept trying to teach Otavalans. Sister missionaries taught a man named Rafael Tabango, who was baptized on July 14, 1968—the first native Otavalo Latter-day Saint. His wife, Teresa, also joined the Church. Less than 15 years later, a stake was organized in Otavalo, with Brother Tabango called as its first patriarch.

“Could I … ah …” The dark haired girl in front of me shifted awkwardly. “I mean, I was wondering … if we could talk.”
I had been teaching the 15-year-olds in Sunday School for only a month and had just finished my weekly lesson.
“How about right now?” I asked.
“It’s about …” she began. “Well, I have this friend see, and the other day we were talking and …” Her unusual seriousness puzzled me. This was the girl who always talked and laughed with her friends (even during my lessons). What could be so serious that she would now be this solemn? I tuned back to her words, “… and this friend said he doesn’t believe in Joseph Smith anymore because he was a gold digger and a thief and he drank a lot.” I smiled. She continued, “My friend has these books to prove it!”
So that was the big life-and-death matter. This 15-year-old had finally had her first taste of the cold and nutritionless dish called “anti-Mormon literature.”
She went on, “Those books—they say the Church isn’t true! They say Joseph Smith was a con man and that all he wanted was money and …”
“Hold it!” I stopped her. How many reading assignments had I given in the last month which had gone unfulfilled by my whole class? I had to turn cartwheels to even get these kids to skim the scriptures, and here this girl was reading entire books of her friend’s anti-Mormon publications. I faced her. “Not all that stuff you’re reading is true.”
“But it’s in a book,” she responded innocently.
I tried to explain, “Just because something is printed, sold, and even accepted and popular doesn’t make it true.”
“I know that.” She was embarrassed. “But how do you know when something you read or hear is true?” A very good question—and here is what we finally decided:
Anything heard or read about another person, idea, or belief needs to pass what we called the
H O G M E T test. Each letter stands for a question.
My 15-year-old friend was ready to leave. She smiled, “Next time that guy ever says he has another book for me to read, I’ll have a few questions for him first.”
“Good luck,” I offered.
“Oh, I won’t need luck.” She started down the hall, “Now I have H O G M E T!”

Elder Perry: President, you’ve carried those scriptures around with you. Every time I’ve been with you, you’ve had those scriptures. You told us the story one time of how they were in the water, and that only helped them because you could turn to them faster.
President Packer: Well, I was studying outside on the lawn and was called away and left my scriptures open on the little table—I forgot them, as old men will do—and the sprinklers went on. I came out in the morning and thought, “Oh, my scriptures that I’ve marked up for 50 years are gone.” I found out it just loosened the pages. I think if I had to get new scriptures, I’d put them out in the rain before I started using them.

Lorraine and Janet Fisher of the Worcester Ward explained how they handle going to parties. “We go to our friends’ parties, but it’s never been a problem. One friend brings his instant chocolate and another brings the milk. Never once have I ever been pressured into doing anything I didn’t believe I should. And they admire us. Our friends used to drink at parties, but now they don’t. They stopped drinking because they saw we had a better time. They found out you don’t need to drink to have a good time.”

Fritz lived with his parents, four younger brothers, and one sister on a small farm in Cammin, Germany. One spring he was more excited than he had ever been; he was going to America!
Some LDS missionaries who had just been released from their missions were staying at Fritz’s home before leaving Germany for America. They had kindly offered to take one of the children with them, promising to see that the child arrived safely in America and was sent on the train to Rockland, Idaho, the home of the missionary who had baptized the family.
A year earlier a missionary from Rockland and his companion had taught Fritz’s family the gospel, and after careful study and prayer they accepted it and were baptized.
When they became members of the Church, their friends and relatives shunned them. Life in Germany was not as happy or easy without their friendships, so the family decided to go to America. However, there was only enough money now to buy passage for one person. The family prayed and discussed the missionaries’ offer.
It was a difficult decision. Whoever went with the missionaries would be alone in America until Fritz’s father could save enough for the rest of the family to go to the new country. Finally, it was decided that Fritz would go first.
Early in April Fritz and the missionaries left Cammin and traveled by train to Hamburg. There they joined other missionaries and a group of emigrants who were going to America.
On the 16th of April they sailed from Hamburg on the S.S. City of Rome. The water was rough in the North Sea and English Channel, and for three days Fritz was terribly seasick. There were times when he doubted whether he should be making the trip. But he finally developed his sea legs and his doubts vanished.
Later, as the group was traveling westward from New York City by train, the immigrants and missionaries left the train as they reached their various destinations. The last missionary said good-bye to Fritz when they arrived at Cheyenne, Wyoming, leaving Fritz to make the rest of the trip without his friends.
Before the last missionary left, however, he gave Fritz a ticket to Idaho and wrote a note with the young boy’s name and destination on it. Pinning the note to Fritz’s jacket, the missionary put him on the train and bade him good-bye.
Although the missionary had been very helpful, he forgot one important thing; he forgot to tell Fritz that his last train stop would be in American Falls, Idaho, sixteen miles from Rockland.
As the train pulled out of Cheyenne, Fritz examined his ticket anxiously, looking for the only English word he knew—Rockland, but it wasn’t there.
Fritz tried asking his fellow passengers for help, but no one could understand him. After a while he decided that he would stay on the train, although he wasn’t sure where it was going. Maybe it will go to Rockland even if I can’t see that word on my ticket, he reasoned.
Early one morning a few days later, the train came to a stop. Fritz was asleep on a side seat in the railroad coach when the conductor came in and shook him roughly. “Come on! Come on!” he said. Startled, Fritz grabbed his suitcase and paper bag containing half a loaf of bread and a small piece of bologna. Quickly he followed the conductor off the train.
They had no sooner alighted when the conductor stepped quickly aboard and the train chuffed on its way again. Fritz stood silently on the station platform.
Across the tracks in the soft light of dawn, he could see some saloons and grocery stores. And from somewhere close by he could hear the steady roar of a river.
Fritz felt extremely alone. He knew there was only one way he could get help. Walking into the tall sagebrush behind the station, he knelt down and earnestly prayed to his Heavenly Father for guidance.
Upon returning to the station, a man approached Fritz and asked him a question. Fritz answered in German that he could not speak English. And then in fluent German the stranger spoke to the boy and a calm, comforting feeling came over Fritz. Together, he and the man sat down on a bench and talked until the sun rose and people began to fill the streets.
Then the man took Fritz across the tracks and bought him some breakfast. It seemed like a feast after so many meals of bread and bologna. While Fritz ate, the man inquired around for someone who might know the family in Rockland who Fritz was to stay with. Eventually he learned of a Swedish couple who lived near Rockland; they agreed to take Fritz to the home of his friends.
Fritz gladly helped the couple load their supplies into their wagon. When they were about ready to start homeward, Fritz looked around for the stranger who had befriended him so he could express thanks for his help. But the man was gone and no one there knew where he had come from nor which way he had gone.
Reaching Rockland, Fritz surprised his friends who had not expected him that day. Nevertheless, it was an especially happy reunion.
Before climbing into bed that night, Fritz knelt to thank his Heavenly Father for His help. The boy knew that although he was far from his family, Heavenly Father had been very close.

The Lord guides a sister in creating with her husband a home where the Spirit is welcome.

Sister Stephens: It comes down to priorities. I recently spent time in West Africa, and I saw women carrying water from the well on their head daily and then go to work to help provide for their families. At times I was overwhelmed with the poverty. Then I spent time with the members of the Church at the training meetings in their bright white shirts and homemade colorful dresses.
I was taught that they are rich in the things money can’t buy. I learned that they put the most important things first. The gospel means everything to them. They told me, “I don’t need anything. I have everything I need—I have the gospel and my family.” When we put the most important things first, other things will naturally drop out of our lives.

A story written by Karen Nolen, which appeared in the New Era in 1974, tells of a Benjamin Landart who, in 1888, was 15 years old and an accomplished violinist. Living on a farm in northern Utah with his mother and seven brothers and sisters was sometimes a challenge to Benjamin, as he had less time than he would have liked to play his violin. Occasionally his mother would lock up the violin until he had his farm chores done, so great was the temptation for Benjamin to play it.

In late 1892 Benjamin was asked to travel to Salt Lake to audition for a place with the territorial orchestra. For him, this was a dream come true. After several weeks of practicing and prayers, he went to Salt Lake in March of 1893 for the much anticipated audition. When he heard Benjamin play, the conductor, a Mr. Dean, told Benjamin he was the most accomplished violinist he had heard west of Denver. He was told to report to Denver for rehearsals in the fall and learned that he would be earning enough to keep himself, with some left over to send home.

A week after Benjamin received the good news, however, his bishop called him into his office and asked if he couldn’t put off playing with the orchestra for a couple of years. He told Benjamin that before he started earning money there was something he owed the Lord. He then asked Benjamin to accept a mission call.

Benjamin felt that giving up his chance to play in the territorial orchestra would be almost more than he could bear, but he also knew what his decision should be. He promised the bishop that if there were any way to raise the money for him to serve, he would accept the call.

When Benjamin told his mother about the call, she was overjoyed. She told him that his father had always wanted to serve a mission but had been killed before that opportunity had come to him. However, when they discussed the financing of the mission, her face clouded over. Benjamin told her he would not allow her to sell any more of their land. She studied his face for a moment and then said, “Ben, there is a way we can raise the money. This family [has] one thing that is of great enough value to send you on your mission. You will have to sell your violin.”

Ten days later, on March 23, 1893, Benjamin wrote in his journal: “I awoke this morning and took my violin from its case. All day long I played the music I love. In the evening when the light grew dim and I could see to play no longer, I placed the instrument in its case. It will be enough. Tomorrow I leave [for my mission].”

Forty-five years later, on June 23, 1938, Benjamin wrote in his journal: “The greatest decision I ever made in my life was to give up something I dearly loved to the God I loved even more. He has never forgotten me for it.”

“I wish we could have a May Day like the ones Mama used to have in England,” Susie said as she sprinkled water around two spindly lilac sprigs in a big bucket.
“Everyone is too busy,” said her older sister, Margaret, who sat by the doorway churning butter. “The fields need to be cleared and the gardens must be tended. There isn’t time for parades and Maypoles.”
“Everyone here in America is so busy getting settled that no one has time for fun,” Susie replied. “But it’s spring, and someone should do something special to celebrate even if it’s only you and I.”
Margaret thought for a minute and then said, “I know what we can do. Mother used to tell us that the day before May Day some people in England would leave branches of trees outside the doors of different homes.”
“That doesn’t sound like fun to me,” said Susie.
“But it was the kind of branches they left that made it fun,” Margaret explained as she looked into the churn to check the butter. “If the person in the house was pretty, then they’d leave a peach branch. A plum branch was left for a gloomy person, a branch with thorns for a very mean person, and an apple branch for a pleasant and good-natured person.”
“That sounds fun,” Susie said with a smile. “Let’s do it for our May Day celebration.”
“All right,” Margaret said. “While I churn the butter, will you go gather some branches? We ought to leave a plum branch at Miss Grumpy’s,” she added as she nodded her head toward the rickety cabin beyond the meadow that separated the two houses.
Miss Grumpy was really Miss Grundby, who lived by herself and was always complaining about something or other. She didn’t seem to want any friends, and no one ever visited with her.
Susie hunted for branches all afternoon. She found several thorny ones, and near the church was a wild plum tree. North of town she found an orchard with apple and peach trees. Susie quickly broke off small branches of each, being careful not to injure the trees.
Just before dark the two girls began delivering their May Day branches. They left an apple branch at the blacksmith’s house and a peach branch at the house of Susie’s friend Jill. At several other houses they left both apple and peach branches.
“Now let’s take plum and thorn branches to Miss Grumpy!” Margaret suggested.
“That’s a good idea,” Susie agreed, and before she could think twice about it, they ran across the meadow and put a branch of thorns and a plum branch on Miss Grundby’s doorstep.
The girls tried to smother their giggles as they hurried home and got ready for bed. They didn’t want either Mother or Father to ask them what they’d been doing all evening.
After Susie was in bed, she began to think about the fun she and Margaret had had delivering the branches. But the more she thought, the more uneasy she became when she remembered the plum and thorn branches on Miss Grundby’s doorstep.
As she lay in bed unable to sleep, a noise just outside the door startled her. What if someone is putting a plum or thorn branch on our doorstep for me, she wondered. Susie knew she had often complained about the work she had to do, how she hated having her hair combed, or because she didn’t have a new dress. Maybe others had known about her complaints.
It would be awful for anyone to see a plum and a thorn branch on the doorstep, she decided. And Miss Grundby will probably feel the same when she finds the ones we left.
Mother had said that Miss Grundby was old and not well. Susie suddenly remembered how grumpy she felt sometimes when she was ill and how good she felt when everyone was kind to her.
Quietly Susie got up, dressed, and tiptoed out of the house. The orchard was too far away to walk in the dark and there were no peach or apple trees nearby. As she looked around wondering what to do, Susie had an idea. She ran to the lean-to in the back of the house and then hurried across the meadow to Miss Grundby’s house.
Susie tossed the thorn and plum branches into the field and replaced them with her lilac sprigs that she had carefully tended all spring. Then she quietly slipped back into her bedroom and soon fell asleep.
The next afternoon while everyone was working, Susie and Margaret heard a bell ring. They ran outside to see what the noise was all about.
“Look! Look! It’s Miss Grundby,” Susie called to Margaret. “And she has a Maypole!”
The pole wasn’t very tall and the streamers on it were thin and not at all the same color, but Susie thought it was the most beautiful Maypole she had ever seen. At the side of it Miss Grundby had a little table, and on it were heaps of cookies and a large pitcher filled with punch.
Miss Grundby kept ringing the bell until a crowd gathered and the people started talking and laughing together.
“This is May Day, isn’t it?” the blacksmith shouted as he ran home for his fiddle. In a few minutes he was back and began playing a lively tune.
The blacksmith’s wife said, “I’m glad you remembered May Day, Miss Grundby. We’ve all been working so hard that we didn’t even think of a celebration this year.”
“I’m not the only one who remembered,” Miss Grundby answered with a smile. “Someone else reminded me of May Day. Someone wasn’t too busy to leave a bucket with two lilac springs on my doorstep this morning. And I’ve always thought no one wanted to be friends with me.”
“We’d all like to be friends, Miss Grundby,” Susie said. “And we’re glad you decided to help us celebrate May Day.”
Margaret looked at Susie with surprise. Then she walked over and gave her an understanding hug.
What a wonderful day this has turned out to be, Susie thought. It’s spring, and I feel as if I’m about to sprout and start blooming myself!

I helped take care of Grandma Pinegar a few Sundays ago. Grandma is 99 and very frail. She is blind and quite deaf, and recently it has become difficult for her to talk in more than a whisper. Her little body is so bent over that there is not much room in her lungs for air.
I leaned close to her and asked, “Grandma, tell me how the gospel has blessed your life.” She whispered softly and shared her gratitude for the promptings and guidance she had received from the Holy Ghost.
When her second child, James, was 18 months old, he and his older brother were playing outside and she was watching them from the window. Suddenly, she couldn’t see him and ran from the house calling and searching frantically. There was water in the irrigation ditch that shouldn’t have been there, and she searched along the edge of the ditch and could see nothing. She ran for the hired hands to come and help and ran back to where the ditch went through a long culvert. Running to the other end of the culvert, she saw two little shoes, and pulled on them. When she had her son in her arms, she was prompted to clasp her hands together and place them under his stomach and carry him in front of her in this way, using her knee to hold some of his weight. She ran toward the road crying for help. The promptings she received to carry him in such an unnatural manner saved his life.

My name is Leeih Siu-Ling and I am a Latter-day Saint girl who lives in Hong Kong. Even though I have been a member of the Church only five months, I realize how important the gospel is and I want to share this happiness with my friends at school.
I decided to introduce one of my friends to the Church. I invited her to go to Primary with me. She said, “I go to Buddhist school so I can’t go to your church with you.”
I told her she would be welcome to go with me even though she was not a member of the Church, and she decided she would. She felt a warmth and happiness in our Heavenly Father’s house, and she said going to Primary made her want to keep all the commandments of our Father in heaven.
I tried to tell her about the gospel too, and so her faith grew stronger and stronger. Then she asked if she could hear the missionary discussions.
Now she and I go to Church meetings together!

For my birthday, my dad took my brother and me to a reptile park. We saw alligators and crocodiles. After, we watched President Boyd K. Packer’s talk on spiritual crocodiles. We need to listen to our parents and our prophet so that we can be prepared against our own spiritual crocodiles.
Jacob P., age 7, Colorado, USA

Martin woke up slowly. His mom was shaking his shoulder.
“Martin,” she said, “it’s time to wake up.”
Martin rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The sky was still dark, but he knew what time it was. His family woke up at 5:30 every morning to read the Book of Mormon together. It wasn’t always easy to get up so early.
Martin rolled out of bed and walked slowly to the front room. He stretched and yawned really wide. His brothers and sisters looked sleepy too, but they were all there.
Each person read for five minutes. At first Martin wanted to go back to bed. But he kept listening. Each verse seemed to make him feel better and better. By the time they were done reading, Martin felt spiritually strong.
And spiritual strength was something Martin needed every day. In Kenya, there were only a few Church members Martin’s age, and they all lived far away. After school Martin went to a boys’ club run by a Catholic church. One week the club went on a camping trip together.
Martin had a lot of fun. He sang camping songs. He chopped logs. He even helped build a campfire.
But on the second day, one of the leaders brought out a teapot. “We’re going to have tea now,” he said.
The other boys were excited. They drank tea at home for special occasions. They all grabbed their cups and waited for the leader to fill them.
Martin felt a little nervous. He knew that he shouldn’t drink tea. But he didn’t want to offend his friends.
Then he remembered how he felt when he kept the commandments. When his family followed the prophet and read the Book of Mormon together, he felt happy. When they didn’t, he didn’t feel as happy.
Martin knew what he had to do.
“No, thank you,” he told the leader when he came to fill Martin’s cup. “I don’t want to drink tea.”
The leader looked surprised, but he let Martin drink water while the rest of the boys drank tea. Some of the boys wanted to know why Martin didn’t drink tea, but none of them made fun of him. Martin felt happy. He knew the Word of Wisdom would make his body strong. And he was glad that he had been strong enough to do the right thing.

Guy de Maupassant, the French writer, tells the story of a peasant named Hauchecorne. While walking through the public square, he caught sight of a piece of string lying on the cobblestones. He picked it up and put it in his pocket.
Later in the day the loss of a purse was reported. Hauchecorne was arrested and taken before the mayor. He protested his innocence, showing that it was only a piece of string that he had picked up. But he was not believed and was laughed at.
The next day the purse was found, and Hauchecorne was absolved [cleared] of any wrongdoing. But, resentful of the false accusation, he became embittered and would not let the matter die. Unwilling to forgive and forget, he thought and talked of little else. Everyone he met had to be told of the injustice. Obsessed with his grievance, he became ill and died.
In his death struggles, he repeatedly murmured, “A piece of string, a piece of string.” (See “The Piece of String,” in The Works of Guy de Maupassant [n.d.], 34–38.)

Our life didn’t suddenly change. We still had difficulties—of course we did. My mother married another bad man, an alcoholic, so there were still hard days and harsh times. But I now had an entirely different sense about the future. The gospel allowed me to rise above my challenges and feel abiding peace.
I couldn’t do anything about the family circumstances of my youth—alcoholism, poverty, and divorce. But when I was 15, I made a major decision: “I will change the future—for myself and for the children I will someday have. My unhappy family history will not be passed on.” I felt the Holy Ghost prompting me to build a good life.