Gospel Story Finder

Aaron Story, a priest from Baldwin, Kansas, is a talented artist. On a recent school trip with his art class to Spring Hill, Kansas, Aaron teamed up with three other artists to participate in a chalk-drawing contest. Although the other three members of the team are not LDS, they were so taken with the image of the St. Louis Missouri Temple which Aaron had in his sketch book, they insisted on including it in their drawing.
The judges loved the image, too. They awarded Aaron and his fellow artists first place for the boldness and originality of their drawing.

Carbon Valley Ward
To prepare for an activity, the Primary children of the Carbon Valley Ward, Longmont Colorado Stake, spent several weeks collecting needed items for military troops. On the activity day, they wrote cards and letters and decorated a “thank you” banner to send with the collected items. They also learned about patriotism.

My testimony was strengthened at my baptism. I really felt the Holy Ghost. The Holy Ghost helps me choose the right.

A few years ago, a 19-month-old girl, Hope Gentile, was diagnosed with a tumor in her lower back. “Over the next five months of surgeries and chemotherapy,” Hope’s father, Nicholas, said, “Hope’s battle for life created a kaleidoscope of experiences.”
One night during Hope’s second five-day round of chemotherapy, Brother Gentile noticed how much hair she had lost. Her remaining strawberry blonde wisps painfully reminded him of her mortality. Nevertheless, he found solace in the Lord’s promise that “a hair of [her] head shall not fall to the ground unnoticed” (Doctrine and Covenants 84:116).
“I felt that Jesus Christ was deeply aware of Hope’s journey—and our heartache,” Brother Gentile said. “He did ‘not leave [us] comfortless’” (John 14:18).
During bedtime one evening as he read a board book to Hope, Brother Gentile asked in a silly voice, “What does the owl say?” Giggling, Hope replied, “Hoo, hoo!” Then he asked, “What does the cow say?” Hope proudly responded, “Moo, moo!”
At that moment, a picture of the Savior in Hope’s bedroom caught Brother Gentile’s attention. The Spirit prompted him to ask, “Hope, and what does Jesus say?”
Hope snuggled into his shoulder, opened her big blue eyes, and whispered, “‘Hold you.’ Jesus says, ‘Hold you.’”
Brother Gentile gently hugged Hope’s tiny body and deeply sobbed. As Hope hugged back, she whispered, “Love you, Dada.”
Jesus will hold us and bless us during our trials if we let Him.
Hope’s trial and uncertain future drew Brother Gentile, his wife, Christina, and their family closer—to each other and to the Savior. “Jesus was holding our family in His loving arms,” Brother Gentile said. “I have pondered the tender truth God taught me through my daughter’s words: Jesus will hold us and bless us during our trials if we let Him.”1
Hope Gentile, four days before her first chemotherapy treatment in March 2015.
I am happy to report that the Gentile family’s faith and prayers were answered. Today, Hope is a healthy, happy 10-year-old.

Lidia Gantier, a Quechua sister living in Bolivia, exemplifies the Savior’s love by sharing her limited resources. As she helps prepare food at work, she saves the meat and poultry trim for the needy in her ward. She also sets aside unpopped kernels from popcorn. “These are for the birds,” she says. “They are hungry, too.” Her concern for all of God’s creatures is demonstrated in her daily actions as she lovingly gives whatever she has to help others.

As I listened to his talk during general conference, I felt as if all of my weaknesses were sprawled out in front of me. I painfully reflected on times in my life when I was not very kind, caring, or patient toward those around me. I mentally examined my discipleship and saw something hidden in the background, something I had never paid much attention to before.
I noticed that, like the Pharisees, I often subconsciously judge people based on one quick moment in time.
I found my weakness in the words of our prophet when he said: “Vulgarity, faultfinding, and evil speaking of others are all too common. Too many pundits, politicians, entertainers, and other influencers throw insults constantly. I am greatly concerned that so many people seem to believe that it is completely acceptable to condemn, malign, and vilify anyone who does not agree with them.”2
The phrase “faultfinding” had a particularly strong impact on me.
Faultfinding essentially means that we intentionally look for flaws and imperfections in someone else—from the way someone dresses to their hobbies to the things they do and say. And I found that I mentally judge people based on an imaginary standard I create in my mind.
Shockingly, I realized I also hold myself to this imaginary high standard. I often find faults in my appearance, my personality, and my quirks. I judge others harshly because I judge myself harshly.
As I listened to President Nelson’s words, the Spirit showed me a piece of my heart that I honestly didn’t want to recognize was there.
I knew that I needed to change.
I was nervous to feel called out again during the next session of conference as President Nelson’s message still rang in my mind. So I decided to look at the notes I took from his talk, and I noticed I had scribbled a particularly powerful phrase he spoke:
“Charity is the antidote to contention.”3
President Nelson continued, “When we humble ourselves before God and pray with all the energy of our hearts, God will grant us charity [see Moroni 7:48].”4 I realized in that moment that despite my imperfections, He would offer me charity too in my moments of struggle. He could help me have more charity for myself and offer more to others as well.

“Thursday, March 26—President McKay told an interesting story. He said, ‘A farmer had a large tract of land. When he grew old it became too much for him. He had a family of boys. He called the boys around him and told them they would have to carry the load. The father rested. But one day he walked out into the field. The boys told him to go back, they did not need his help. He said, “My shadow on this farm is worth more than the labor of all of you.”’ President McKay said that the father in the story represented President Stephen L Richards, who was ill, but whose contribution and friendship President McKay valued so highly.

As the message of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ is now being embraced around the world, we are all pioneers in our own sphere and circumstance. It was in the turmoil of post–World War II Germany when my family first learned about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. George Albert Smith was the President then. I was only a young child, and we had lost all material belongings twice within only seven years. We were refugees with an uncertain future. However, during those same seven years, we gained more than any amount of money could ever buy. We found a supernal refuge, a place of defense from despair—the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and His Church, led by a true and living prophet.
During this time of my childhood I played in bombed-out houses and grew up with the ever-present consequences of a lost war and the awareness that my own country had inflicted terrible pain on many nations during the horrific World War II.
The good news that Jesus Christ has made the perfect Atonement for mankind, redeeming all from the grave and rewarding each individual according to his or her works, was the healing power which brought hope and peace back into my life.

On September 9, 2012, the day he turned 88, Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles created the St. Petersburg Russia Stake—the second stake in Russia.

I’ve never written to a magazine before, but I would feel guilty if I didn’t write and tell you how much I enjoy your Photos of the Month and Mormonisms. My friend and I share a locker at school, and we decided to put some of our favorite New Era photos in it. They really start our day off in a good way.
Sandy MartiniLivermore, California

When I found the address I had scrawled in my notebook, I thought the place looked creepy. It was a big, old, gray house that had been converted into apartments, but it looked more like a haunted house in a black-and-white movie. Still, I wanted to meet Rachael, so I marched up the rickety steps.
Earlier, when I stared at the housing ads tacked to a board in the institute building, the ads had blurred together like a patchwork quilt made of paper and pushpins. But one ad stood out. It showed a stick figure saying, “This is me, Rachael. I like running, jazz music, and chocolate.” I laughed. It didn’t say much about the apartment, but the roommate seemed fun.
After talking to Rachael for a while, I decided that the feeling inside her apartment seemed welcoming. I dismissed my first impression and moved in a few weeks later.
The next morning Rachael left on a two-week family vacation. An eerie feeling sank in the minute she was gone, but I brushed it off and busied myself unpacking. “I’m nervous because I’m not used to being here,” I reasoned. “I need time to adjust.”
It was almost midnight when I came down with an itchy sore throat. “I must be allergic to something,” I thought. I hunted around until I found Rachael’s scented candles. I decided to put them outside.
I had discovered earlier that the entryway light didn’t work, so I left the front door open a crack, letting a sliver of light spill out. Barefoot, I hurried through the darkness onto the porch.
Suddenly I froze.
The night air was still. I couldn’t hear a thing. But I felt someone approaching.
“Get back into your apartment before someone else does.” The Spirit’s instructions were unmistakable and urgent.
Still grasping the candles, I raced through the darkness into my living room and slammed the door. As soon as I locked it, the doorknob turned. My jaw dropped. I watched the doorknob slowly twist back and forth without a sound.
Someone had been hiding in my entryway! He had tried to follow me inside, only a moment too late. Now nothing but a flimsy wooden door stood between us. Instinctively, I hit the door with my fist as hard as I could.
I don’t know how long I stood there silently praying, waiting for something to happen. Finally a peaceful feeling assured me that the threat had passed and I would be safe for the night.
The next morning my mom called. She and Dad were gone on vacation, or I might have called them sooner. Before I could tell Mom what had happened, she said, “I’ve been worried about you! I keep getting the impression that your entryway is a danger zone. Is it well lit? It would be so easy for someone to hide there.”
I shivered to realize how close I had come to being attacked—so close that my mom had sensed the danger from 200 miles (320 km) away.
Then she told me she had been trying to call me the day before to warn me of her impression. “I couldn’t catch you on the phone, so I prayed. I knew I couldn’t protect you, but Heavenly Father could.”
Mom was right. A stranger had hidden in my entryway, watching me. Higher powers had also been watching and had told me what to do.
I know that the Lord won’t always protect me from tragedy, but as I follow Him, He won’t let His plan for my life be thwarted. It was His will for me to be protected that night, and I am grateful He was watching over me.

“When I was 12,” says Loukia, “I went to church for the first time and was so happy, but then I realized that I was the only one my age. Now, two years later, we have so many young women that for the first time we were able to have Young Women Camp.” As they met together, she says, “I realized what it means to be a Latter-day Saint. When we live the gospel, a light surrounds us.”
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“Loukia C., 15, bore her testimony for the first time at Young Women camp and was later baptized.”

Dances weren’t easy for Randa either. One night, at a church dance, one of the brighter guys made a proposition. You could show real courage by asking the “ugliest” girl there for a dance. Better yet, you could stay for a second dance just to prove your courage had staying power. That was followed by a lot of laughter, and a lot of “I will if you will” promises.
Suddenly one of the guys broke away from the group and asked Randa for a dance. Then he stayed for a second. When he returned to our group, he said, “Okay guys, you promised.” One by one, they asked Randa to dance, and stayed for a second. Randa danced 16 times that night. She had the time of her life—only to learn later that she was the object of a cruel joke.

I have read how Relief Society observed its fiftieth year with a great gathering of sisters in this Tabernacle. President Zina D. H. Young addressed the congregation and exclaimed:
“O that my words could be heard by all people, not only by you my brethren and sisters in this Tabernacle but that they might be heard and understood by all the people of this continent, and not only this continent, but the continents of Asia, Africa, Europe and the islands of the sea.” (Minutes of the Relief Society General board, vol. 1, 17 Mar. 1892, p. 225.)

One Sunday in October, I was assigned to give an important part in a program at church. But in October everyone in my family had to work hard to harvest the rice in my father’s rice fields. That included working on the Sabbath day.
I prayed to Heavenly Father, and the Spirit planted a thought in my mind. I could try to finish the harvest before Sunday. I would get up early and work every morning before school. Then every afternoon I would work after school until dark.
But by Saturday night only half of the harvest was done. I went to bed discouraged that I had not accomplished my goal. Sunday morning I awoke early to go to the fields. My father came to my room and, with a gentle smile, asked why I wasn’t going to church. My heart was full of joy. I could go to church and keep the Sabbath day holy!

When a girl in her Valiant class told a story about President Spencer W. Kimball,* Nina listened intently.
When the prophet had been waiting in an airport, he noticed a young, pregnant mother struggling to urge her child along in the line. She nudged the toddler along with her foot but didn’t pick her up. Other passengers whispered and pointed at her, but no one offered to help. President Kimball picked up the crying child and comforted her. The woman told him that because of orders from her doctor, she could not lift her child.
Only President Kimball had recognized that the young mother needed help. Only he had offered that help. Never once did he judge her, as the other passengers had.

The next year I faced a great trial in my life: my parents separated. Thankfully, I had the Church during that difficult time and the support of excellent teachers, leaders, and friends. At about that same time, after being ordained a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood, I baptized my 11-year-old sister.

My name is Modibo Diarra. In 1981 I had the honor of being the first person to be baptized a member of the Church in my native land of Mali. It is hard to believe how much my life has changed since then, and that it all happened because my dog was sick!

One day, my dog got sick, and I thought it might be a case of rabies. At that time I was a school teacher, and one of my students told me about an American veterinarian, Dr. Jerry Zaugg, who was working in Mali. I arranged for Dr. Zaugg to come to our house and asked my wife to prepare tea for him, as is the custom here. But our guest declined to drink the tea. He said it was contrary to the teachings of his church. That interested me, and I asked him many questions.

Several good things came from that visit. First, I learned that my dog did not have rabies. But, more importantly, Dr. Zaugg asked me to tutor him in French. I agreed to do so, and after each of our French lessons, Dr. Zaugg would tell me about his church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

He invited me to attend Church services with two American families who were meeting in a house. The meetings were in English, which I did not speak well then, but the Church members gave me books in French: the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. The Spirit was beautiful and strong, and eventually I was converted and baptized.

Olivia burst through the door after school. “Mom! I’m supposed to write about the strongest person I know! Who should I write about?”
Mom looked up from her computer. “The strongest person you know, huh? Well, how do you know if someone is strong?”
Olivia flexed her arms. “They have really big muscles!”
“What else?”
Olivia thought for a moment. “Um … they can lift really heavy things.”
“Well, that’s a start,” Mom said. “When is your paper due?”
“In two weeks,” Olivia said. “I’ll keep thinking about it.”
Later that night, Olivia watched her little brother, Reese, play with their stepdad, Trevor.
“Can you lift me over your head?” Reese asked.
“Sure!” Trevor swung Reese into his arms and held him up high. “How long do you want to stay up there?”
Reese giggled. “Forever!”
Olivia laughed too.
At first she hadn’t been sure about Trevor, after her parents divorced and Mom married Trevor. He was all right, but he wasn’t her dad. She had clashed with Trevor over a lot of things, especially when he tried to give her chores. But then she started getting along better with him. He liked a lot of cool things, like biking and running. And she could see that Trevor really cared about her family.
Reese started flapping his arms. Trevor had been holding him up there for so long that Reese was pretending to be a bird. Suddenly Olivia had an idea. She ran to the kitchen.
“I’m going to write about Trevor!” Olivia said. “He’s been getting ready for his half marathon, so he’s really strong.”
“I think that’s great!” Mom said. “Are you going to tell him about it?”
Olivia shook her head. “I’ll show him when it’s all done and graded. I want it to be a surprise.”
After dinner Olivia got out a clean sheet of paper. She wrote, “The Strongest Person I Know” at the top. Over the next two weeks, Olivia wrote a little bit every day. At first, she wrote about how Trevor lifted heavy weights and went on long runs.
Then she started noticing all the things he did for their family, like helping Olivia shop for silly hairbows the night before her school’s “crazy hair day.” Or when Mom got sick and he stayed home from work to take care of the family. That week, Trevor hadn’t been able to train for his half marathon, even though it was only a week away. He was too busy doing laundry, cooking meals, and helping Mom feel better. But Trevor said he didn’t mind. “Family comes first,” he told Olivia.
Olivia realized that there were many ways to be strong, like doing hard things. She wrote about how being strong meant choosing the right. It meant making sacrifices to help those you love.
On the day of Trevor’s half marathon, the whole family came to cheer him on. Olivia found Trevor stretching before the race and handed him her essay. The teacher had given her an A+!
“I wrote this about you,” she said.
Trevor read it. There were tears in his eyes. “Thank you!” he said. “This means so much to me.”
Olivia grinned. “Good luck,” she said. “We’ll see you at the finish line!”
Mom, Reese, and Olivia watched excitedly as runners made it to the end of the race. When they saw Trevor, they waved and cheered.
Nobody cheered louder than Olivia.

The sky was greyish-white, the grass damp, and there were periodic showers that Sunday morning, but not one of the 350 young people seated on logs or blankets cared about the weather. This was the scene for the testimony meeting that concluded the Alberta tri-Institute camp-out held at Waterton National Park, Alberta, Canada.
Young people had arrived and set up camp on Friday evening. Early Saturday morning they were addressed by President N. Eldon Tanner, who had taken time from his vacation to speak to them. He emphasized that the Church will never ask anyone to do anything that is not worthwhile.
Other Saturday activities included Hiking, fishing, tubing on the Belly River, and a softball tournament. After a variety show that night, there was dancing in the Waterton meetinghouse.
Young adults came from as far as Manitoba and Grande Prairie for the camp-out. “Oh, It’s So Nice to Be with You” was, for them, not only the theme of the gathering, but the mood of the entire weekend.