Gospel Story Finder

“Never did I imagine that I would have that privilege of seeing the Church grow from a handful of members to the number that we have now,” shares Sister Nenita Gapiz, one of the first six members of the Church in 1961. From meeting with a handful of fellow pioneers in a small apartment to joining thousands of other members in welcoming a prophet of God in a huge coliseum, Sister Gapiz has witnessed the Church’s remarkable progress.

Recently while wrestling in my mind with a problem I thought to be of serious consequence I went to my knees in prayer. There came into my mind a feeling of peace and the words of the Lord, “Be still and know that I am God.” I turned to the scripture and read this reassuring statement spoken to the Prophet Joseph Smith 150 years ago: “Let your hearts be comforted concerning Zion; for all flesh is in mine hands; be still and know that I am God.” (D&C 101:16.)

In 1931 a small six- by nine-meter chapel was constructed on a piece of ground measuring only twelve by sixteen meters that the Church had managed to acquire. It remains the only chapel in use on the island today. Faithful members recall that the last visit made to them by a mission president before their 1976 voyage was in the late 1950s by President Joseph R. Reeder. Then somehow, over the next fifteen years, the mission leaders accidentally forgot Taenga.
Though the branch finally was no longer officially functioning and meetings were being held on an informal basis only, the members kept their faith. “We always lived the gospel as best we could,” says Sister Teuruhai Buchin, now a worker in the Tahiti Temple. Kaheke Temanu, the man who would later be called as branch president, had faith that one day the little island would be visited by the mission president. He built a small residence on the island, reserved for the sole purpose of housing this hoped-for visitor. So it was not so surprising that when these steadfast members somehow learned by word of mouth that a prophet of the Lord was coming to Tahiti, they were inspired to make the difficult journey, bringing along beautiful handcrafted tokens of their love and respect to offer President Kimball.

I didn’t have the school books I needed to study during Christmas vacation, so I got out my 1974 New Eras and started reading them. I’ve made a New Year’s resolution to read the New Era every month and not wait and enjoy it just once a year.
Mary A. BrownMoses Lake, Washington

My companion and I started teaching a young lady who had heard the discussions before, but she still did not know that the Church was true. I asked her to read the conversion articles “Wanting a Miracle” (February 1994) and “I Expected Miracles” (October 1993). She was later baptized.

When Joseph went to the Hill Cumorah the first time and was allowed to view the plates, he thought it was possible to remove them and immediately take them home with him. He even had thoughts of what he could do with a chunk of gold of that size. However, the Lord knew the frailties of man and sought to strengthen the young prophet by showing him a vision of what would be his if he were faithful; he also showed him, on the other hand, what would be his reward should he fail. Oliver Cowdery records that while Joseph was being instructed by the angel, “… the heavens were opened and the glory of the Lord shone around about and rested upon him. While he thus stood gazing and admiring, the angel said, ‘Look,’ and as he thus spake he beheld the prince of darkness, surrounded by his innumerable train of associates, all this passed before him, and the heavenly messenger said, ‘All this is shown, the good and the evil, the holy and the impure, the glory of God, the power of darkness, that ye may know hereafter the two powers and never be influenced or overcome by that wicked one.’” (Messenger and Advocate, vol. 2, no. 1 [October 1835], p. 198.)

Nellie Middleton, a fifty-five-year-old Latter-day Saint, lived in Cheltenham with her six-year-old daughter, Jennifer. To prepare her home against air strikes, she had used her modest wage as a dressmaker to furnish an area in her basement as a shelter, complete with food, water, oil lamps, and a small iron bed for Jennifer. Following instructions from the government, Nellie had also covered her windows with netting to catch flying shards of glass in the event of an attack.1
Now, all over Cheltenham, bombs were whistling through the air and crashing to the ground with a thunderous roar. The terrifying noise grew ever closer to Nellie’s home until a tremendous explosion on a nearby street rattled her walls, shattering the windows and filling the netting with razor-sharp glass.
In the morning, the city streets were filled with rubble. The bombs had killed twenty-three people and left more than six hundred homeless.2

I recall a priesthood meeting held in the Tabernacle in Salt Lake City when I was a holder of the Aaronic Priesthood. The President of the Church was speaking to the priesthood, and he made a statement I have never forgotten. He said, in essence, that men who commit sexual sin or other sins do not do so in the twinkling of an eye. He emphasized that our actions are preceded by our thoughts, and when we commit sin, it is because we have first thought of committing that particular sin. Then the President declared that the way to avoid sin is to keep our thinking pure. The scripture tells us that as we think in our hearts, so are we.6 We must have the mark of virtue.

I worked as a real estate developer, and it’s not easy to get farmers to sell you their land. But I can tell you of many instances when I went out to find land to purchase and people asked me, “Are you John Arnold’s son?”
I would say, “Yes, I am.”
And they would say, “He was an honest man. I’m sure you’ll be honest with us.” I bought several properties because of my father’s good name.

For many years I have sought to learn more about the nature and quality of teaching in the various quorums and auxiliaries of the Church. I have done this by dropping in unannounced on classes in various wards in different parts of the Church. By now I have visited hundreds of classes. I apologize if any of my visits has terrorized a teacher. My impression is that almost all of the teachers I have observed in these surprise visits have appreciated having a visitor who was there to learn and there to show appreciation for their efforts and concern for their students.
For the most part, what I have seen in these visits has been gratifying and reassuring. I have seen inspired teachers whose love for the gospel and their students was so evident that the effect of their teaching was positively electric. I have also seen thoughtful and respectful students, receptive to the message and hungry to learn.
Notwithstanding the great examples I have observed, I am convinced that in the Church as a whole—as with each of us individually—we can always do better. The challenge of progress is inherent in our Father in Heaven’s plan for His children. And in our sacred callings of gospel teaching, no effort is too good for the work of the Lord and the growth of His children.

I had a scary experience when I was walking home from school. My mommy was pulling my little sister Corina in the sled, and I was walking a few steps behind. All of a sudden my mommy said, “Max! Come here now!” I didn’t know why she said it, but I obeyed. She grabbed my hand, and that’s when I saw the dog. He was half a block away and running quickly toward us. He started barking at us in a very scary way and jumping up in the air. I was scared he would bite us.
I started praying out loud. I asked Heavenly Father to make the dog stop chasing us. At that exact moment, the dog stopped. He turned around and went in the other direction, and we got home safely. I said another prayer to thank Heavenly Father for helping us. I know that Heavenly Father will help us when we pray and comfort us when we are scared.Max Magee, age 6 (with help from his mom), Lethbridge, Alberta, Canada

In December 2020, Church services resumed, and the missionary force started growing, but so did political unrest, and President Russell M. Nelson ultimately decided the missionaries needed to move out of the country.
Miraculously, some of the missionaries serving in remote areas were able to fly to the nation’s capital before access to Addis Ababa was cut off. “On our mission, we learned that you’re never alone. The Lord is at the helm” recalled Darice. Missionaries who had been tested for COVID-19 were put on a plane to Kenya, where the Ethiopia mission was relocated.
They operated from Kenya, although most of their missionaries were reassigned temporarily to the Kenya Nairobi Mission. Those who remained in the Ethiopia mission used telephones and limited technology to connect with members and friends of the Church in Ethiopia, where local leaders took over the responsibility of missionary work.
Of the Kenya experience, senior missionaries, Elder and Sister Moyers said, “We experienced that unexpected and drastic change presses on our emotions, intellect, and especially our faith in our purpose . . . Being relocated is either a blessing or a challenge, and each missionary has the agency to choose which it will be for him or her.”
The Moyers served as member-leader support missionaries and helped to build the Church from within. President Dudfield said, “We learned the significant value of missionary service and the great value of senior couples. This is a call for those willing and able to serve. It changes your life.”

Asked about the music his group plays, Curtis said, “Well, I’m sure Alexander Schreiner never got started this way.” Curtis grew up a music-lesson outcast. “Other kids were busy with piano lessons. I sort of liked to bang pie pans and smash lids together myself.” Now an accomplished one-man-band washboard artist, Curtis should be an inspiration to all lid bangers.

Some of Jenica’s opportunities to share the gospel have come when dancing has taken her away from home. She has found ways to maintain her standards and even to share her beliefs with friends. One summer, she was able to attend summer ballet trainings in both Arizona and New York City. While in New York City, she posted a picture of the Manhattan New York Temple on social media. She also likes to post dance images on social media with an inspiring quote from a Church leader or an uplifting thought.
“We can all use social media to spread the gospel,” she says. “It doesn’t have to be a big post about everything. It can just be a simple something that sparks interest or hope in somebody.” In the end, she says, “other people will be grateful for our courage to share in such a public space.”

The winter that year was the coldest it had been in that part of the country for many years. The snow fell and the thermometer dropped lower as the days went on. Soon the ground froze hard, and ice began to form in the river.
I was a missionary in southern France and had come to this area expecting to find warm winters and pleasant summers. My expectations were realistic and were consistent with those of the native residents of the country. Like many of the apartments in that area, ours was built for warm weather. The walls were not insulated, and neither were the water pipes that were attached to the outer walls of the building. It was economical and suited the region.
As the days went on and the weather grew colder, the people grew colder also. Their attitudes became closed and narrow, which made our contacts with them more rare and difficult. We soon found that in the center of the city the water pipes were freezing, leaving people without water. The freeze spread like a plague, and we hoped that it would not reach our part of town. Anxiously we watched and waited, but it wasn’t long until we woke up one morning to a freezing cold apartment and no water. Many of the residents had family or friends in neighboring cities or a well in their backyard. We, of course, had no such resources.
We did the best we could to survive this difficult time by buying the expensive bottled water sold at the stores. We walked the 20-minute walk every morning to the chapel to wash up and cook. As time went on, we felt that we should get a bucket of water in our apartment that we could wash with and use in an emergency. We decided to take some time out of our Preparation Day to find someone who still had running water and would give us a bucketful.
We soon found that the cold attitudes that had met us during our regular tracting were repeated when it came to our earnest pleas for one bucket of water. The people responded to us with a coldness that equaled the bitter wind. The typical response we received was, “If I give you my water, then what will I drink? The more I give away, the less I will have.” It was hard for us not to become discouraged. The time wore on with no success, so we decided we would try one more door and then start back for home.
We approached the door with what energy we could and knocked. It was interesting to compare this day’s work with the work we usually did. The people didn’t understand the significance of what we were trying to say to them. They didn’t really care about what we presented. They just knew that they were busy and didn’t want to be disturbed by two sister missionaries, strangers in a foreign land, wearing long overcoats and black name tags.
A woman opened the door and looked at us with sympathy as we made our approach and explained our problem. Soon the answer came, which sounded at first like all of the rest, “One bucket of water?” And then she added, “One bucket of water—is that all? I will give you two, or three, or ten, or more. Keep coming back, because if I give my water away my pipes will never freeze. When the water is flowing, it doesn’t ice up. In a way, it is almost like in giving I am receiving.”
This one woman, in a country far from our homes, was living the way the Savior taught us when he said, “For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in” (Matt. 25:35).

As some of my companions engaged in practices that Latter-day Saints don’t think highly of, such as smoking or drinking, profanity or immorality, it was evident that they didn’t concern themselves about what the Lord would like them to do. When moments of stress came, however, their attitudes changed. I remember when one of these boys, who was not particularly impressed with the life of a former missionary, was scheduled for what was called an elimination flight, and he knew that if he failed the test that day, he would be eliminated from flying in the United States Air Force. He came to me in a very solemn mood and quietly said with tears in his eyes, “Bill, please pray for me. I need it.”

One cold winter morning he arose at 5:00 A.M. so that he could get in some early morning practice at the gym. Hearing him move about the house, I too arose.
While he showered, I cooked his breakfast. I put more slices of bacon in the frying pan than would have been allowed had his mother been there to supervise. Three eggs soon sizzled in the pan. Toast was in the toaster. I then blended some milk, ice cream, and protein powder (I had heard that such powder contained “rebounds”). He seemed most pleased when I placed such delicious food before him. As he ate, I sat and looked on.
Washing down the last piece of toast with the protein milkshake he said, “Got to go, pops.”
As we both stood, I said, “Could we just take a minute to kneel down and pray together?”
Without responding with words, he quickly knelt. Kneeling very near him, I spoke for the two of us. I thanked the Lord for such a son and expressed my gratitude for the love that bound the two of us together.
After many heartfelt words, we arose from our knees. Feeling so close to him, I embraced him. Then before he knew what was happening, I pulled his head down and gave him a kiss on the forehead.
He stepped back and grinned and said, “Gee, pops, I wonder how many other Provo High players got a kiss from their father this morning.”
I struck him on the arm and said, “Get out of here or there will be at least one Provo High player who will get a kick in the pants this morning.”
I stood at the window and watched him until he had disappeared across the snow-covered landscape.

While I was on a Navy ship headed toward Japan, I attended Church meetings. Only a few Church members were on that tour of duty, but they could always answer my questions. When you are raised in the Church and hear the gospel, the Holy Ghost will help you remember what you’ve been taught so that you can teach other people.
I decided I wanted to be baptized. Back then a person usually investigated the Church for a year. Although I had only been investigating it for five months, the members on the ship felt that I was ready to be baptized. So on February 25, 1952, I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Because it was February, it was extremely cold outside where I was baptized. In fact, there was a layer of ice on top of the baptismal font!

Some time ago in my high priests quorum meeting, the instructor introduced the lesson by asking each of us to respond to who our hero is and why. As each member took his turn responding, the answers were not unexpected. Of course someone named the Savior, the Redeemer of the world. Another spoke of Abraham Lincoln, who freed the slaves, led the United States through a civil war, and eventually unified the country. Others chose the Prophet Joseph Smith and our beloved current prophet, Gordon B. Hinckley. As each named a hero, I silently concurred and acknowledged that all were men worthy of emulating and that I would be a better person if I possessed some of the qualities that made those men great.
I then turned to a brother on my left and said, “My hero is Jim Newton and his wife, Helen.” Shortly after Jim and Helen’s son Zach received his mission call to Peru, he was taken in an automobile accident. When I heard of the accident, I rushed to the hospital, hoping to hear that Zach was alive and would recover. The parents, in a most dignified and peaceful manner, explained that Zach would now be serving his mission on the other side of the veil. As I witnessed the calm resolve of these two strong parents, I realized that through the pain and anguish there was a peace that could come only through a deep and abiding faith in a loving Father and an atoning Savior. My faith was strengthened, and through their inspiration my resolve to follow their example in meeting similar trials and tragedies was reaffirmed.

I express gratitude for a living prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley. Last November he visited many South American countries, including Chile. That same week Chile hosted an important summit meeting for all nations of Latin America. There were presidents and dignitaries from 16 different countries. Streets in the areas where they stayed and met were barricaded. Day and night, sirens wailed and red lights flashed to make way for those men as they traveled back and forth from their meetings. In the midst of all the commotion, President Hinckley arrived. There was no fanfare and no special welcome, recognition, or privilege extended to him. Two vans left the airport and maneuvered through the streets of Santiago, one carrying the Lord’s living prophet. At the hotel there were police and guards to protect the summit visitors, while President Hinckley, with his family and others, entered unnoticed.

The next day, as President Hinckley spoke to over 50,000 Saints and testified of Christ and of His Church, one could feel his conviction. He told all present that he wanted them to remember that they had heard Gordon B. Hinckley say that God lives and Jesus is the Christ. He counseled the Saints to put their lives in order, to teach their children the ways of the Lord, and to form eternal families by being sealed in the temple. At the conclusion of the conference, with tears in their eyes and a testimony in their hearts that here, truly, was a prophet of God on earth, the vast congregation stood and waved white handkerchiefs in farewell. President Hinckley took his handkerchief from his pocket and with love returned their farewell. I know, as those many Saints in Chile and throughout the world know, that President Gordon B. Hinckley is the living prophet of God on earth. I am grateful for him and for his example.