Gospel Story Finder

A single friend of ours who lives alone broke her shoulder and needed help. Word soon spread throughout her ward, and ward members brought dinners by the dozen so that she had to tell them to stop because her refrigerator was overflowing. One of them was a nearly blind sister who crossed a busy street with a hot dinner on a tray. Another sister volunteered to help clean her apartment. Seeing our friend’s reluctance, she countered, “How else can I show you that I love you?” Another sister who helped with grocery shopping saw the bright side of our friend’s accident as she pointed out, “This opportunity has brought us close to each other again!” These sisters all had the vision of the work the Savior had in mind for them to do.

“Rhoda, will you offer the blessing on the food?” Mama asked.
Rhoda looked at the small potato on her plate. “But there is still so much plate showing around my dinner,” she wanted to say but didn’t. “Yes, Mama,” she said.
Bowing her head, she began, “Heavenly Father, thank Thee for the food, and please bless it. Watch over Daddy in England that he will find those who are looking for the truth. And please provide food and safety for us while he is away. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Rhoda opened her eyes and noticed her sister, Louisa, staring at Mama’s empty plate.
“Mama, where’s your food?” Louisa asked.
“Willard is out working in the fields,” Mama replied. “When he comes in, he’s going to want more than just water to drink.”
Rhoda could see worry lines around her sister’s eyes. “Are there no more potatoes?” Louisa asked.
Mama shook her head. “Those are the last ones. So eat up before they get cold.”
Rhoda stared at Mama. “But Mama, what will we do for breakfast in the morning?”
“Well, in your prayer you asked the Lord to provide for us while Daddy is away,” Mama replied. “I trust He will answer your prayer.”
“Mama!” Willard burst through the door. “Quick! The Judds have turned the canal water into their ditches!”
“Hurry, girls,” Mama said. “Buckets are outside!”
Rhoda jumped from the table, following Willard and Louisa outdoors. Each one grabbed a large, wooden bucket and raced down the dusty path to the canal.
Even though Rhoda was only eight years old, she understood about the canal. Like a man-made river, the canal was the source of water for all the homesteads in the area. The canal also provided water for irrigating crops. Farmers would turn some of the water from the canal into ditches lining their crops. Then the water would flow out of the ditches and flood the land. But once in a while, a farmer would turn all the canal water into his ditches, leaving the homesteads downstream without water until he finished irrigating his crops. And Rhoda knew that even one day without water in this scorching heat would be dangerous.
When the children arrived at the canal, the water flow had already stopped, leaving a still bed of water resting in the bottom. Rhoda filled her bucket with water, carried it back to the house, and poured it into the large rain barrel beside the front door. Back and forth the children ran, trying to fill the barrel before the water dried up.
“One more bucket each ought to do it,” Mama called.
Even though the sun hung low, almost touching the horizon, the dirt felt hot and gritty on the bottoms of Rhoda’s feet. Reaching the canal, they found that the stream was now dried up, leaving a muddy bed pocked with small, shallow pools. Rhoda jumped down into the damp streambed, mud spurting between her toes. Reaching the edge of one of the shallow pools, she leaned over to dip her bucket into the water. Suddenly she lost her balance and fell, splashing into the pool.
Willard and Louisa laughed as Rhoda stood up. Her dress clung to her back and belly, and warm water dripped down her arms and legs. When she reached down to grab her bucket, something slippery slithered past her ankles. “Snake!” Rhoda screeched, scrambling out of the pool.
Willard raced over, peering at the small pool.
“There!” Rhoda cried, pointing a finger at the water.
Willard’s eyes scanned the murky water. His hand circled the surface, then suddenly he thrust his arm into the water and grabbed at something.
“It’s a fish!” Willard shouted, holding a small, wriggling fish in his palm. “I caught a fish!”
“Look! There must be more in that pool over there!” Rhoda pointed.
“And over there,” Louisa shouted, pointing at another. All the small pools of water rippled with life.
“Let’s fill our buckets and take them to Mama,” Louisa suggested.
There was little water left in the pools and the fish swarmed in tight bunches, making it easy for the children to snatch them up. Soon their buckets were filled and the children carried them back to the cabin.
“Mama! Look what we found in the canal!” Rhoda called as they reached the cabin door.
“Fish? In the canal?” Mama looked confused. “There aren’t any fish in that canal.”
“There are tonight. The shallow pools are full of them,” Louisa said.
“But there have never been fish in that canal,” Mama said quietly, staring at the full buckets of fish. “Children, this is a miracle. Just as He sent manna to the hungry Israelites, the Lord has sent fish for us to eat.”
Reaching for Rhoda’s bucket, she continued, “And just like the children of Israel, we must gather all we can while there are fish to catch. Go and see if there are any more, and I will begin cleaning these and packing them in salt.”
The sun sank into the prairie grasses and a full moon lit the night as the children returned to search for more fish. As Rhoda knelt down in the mud, she closed her eyes and spoke softly. “Heavenly Father, thank Thee for answering my prayer and for taking care of us. Thank Thee for sending us the miracle of the fishes.”

John Conrad was not my best Scout. As a matter of fact, he was one of the biggest problems in the troop. Of the 20 boys in the Regina 35th Scout Troop, Saskatchewan, Canada, John was the one who could always be counted on to be where he wasn’t supposed to be, doing what he wasn’t supposed to be doing. But you couldn’t stay mad at the kid. He was just a skinny little 12-year-old with big teeth. He’d look up at you with those big brown eyes and say, “Sorry, Skip, it won’t happen again.”
We both knew that it would.
It was John who whacked himself on the top of the head with the flat of the ax on our first day of camp. It was John who tumbled head over heels from the top of a valley to the bottom, spreading all his camp gear in a trail to be picked up in the dark by others.
It was John who rescued me.
We were on our way to the biggest camp of the year. We had saved and worked for months so we could camp at my granddad’s farm in the mountains. Hiking, swimming, fossil hunting—anything we wanted to do, we could do.
It was a fairly long drive, so we drove during the early-morning hours to save as much daylight as possible for activities. About halfway there, John popped his head over the back of the front seat and said, “Skip, why are you inactive?”
I said, “What do you mean, inactive? I’m your deacons quorum adviser and your Scoutmaster!”
“Well, I never see you at sacrament meeting, so how can you say you’re active?”
Oddly enough, as penetrating as his questions were, I felt as though he really cared. He wasn’t being rude or sarcastic, just direct.
I mumbled something about how my nonmember wife wouldn’t understand about my being away all day Sunday. John said, “Well, you teach us that to be active, we need to go to all our meetings, so how can you say that you’re active when you don’t come to sacrament meeting?”
Before I could form a decent rebuttal, John was on to his next question. “Brother Spencer, do you pay your tithing?” All of a sudden Skip the Scoutmaster was gone and I was “Brother Spencer.” I felt like I was in front of the branch president for one of those personal interviews that I tried to avoid.
I once again tried to shift the blame onto my nonmember wife. “But how can you say that you are active if you don’t pay tithing and don’t come to sacrament meeting, Brother Spencer?”
“I guess I can’t,” I replied.
“Well, are you going to get active?”
What a question! It was four in the morning. I was tired, and this kid was asking me to commit to change my life. But how do you lie to a boy asking a sincere question? I couldn’t say yes and I couldn’t say no.
“I can’t make a commitment to you, John.”
“Well, will you think about it?”
“Yes, John, I will think about it.”
“Good, because I will ask you again.”
That boy ruined a perfectly good camping expedition. I couldn’t put the challenge out of my mind. When he and a friend set fire to Granddad’s pasture, I hardly even exploded. When they took down all the leaders’ tents during our mega-water fight, I didn’t bat an eye. Ten years of semiactivity weighed on my mind. For the first time in many years, I took a long and really hard look at myself.
At the end of the camp, I took John aside. I made a commitment to the Lord, with John as a witness, that I would start going to sacrament meeting the next Sunday. I committed to start paying tithing with my next paycheque. I told John that I could only do it with his help.
“I’ll help you, Skip,” he promised. And he did.
John befriended my wife and children. Each Sunday he would check on my progress. “I’m praying for you,” he told me. He was still a pest, but a loving one.
Four months after I made my commitment, John and I went together to get our patriarchal blessings. Four months after that, my wife was baptized. I performed the baptism and John was there. A year later, my wife and I were sealed in the Alberta Temple.
Whenever I look at myself and the changes in my life since the day John confronted me, I ask what would have happened to me and my family if he had been afraid to ask those questions. Then I thank my Heavenly Father for a 12-year-old Scout who had both courage and love.

Let me share with you a personal experience I had as a teenager while our family was attending church in Frankfurt, Germany.

One Sunday the missionaries brought a new family to our meetings whom I hadn’t seen before. It was a mother with two beautiful daughters. I thought that these missionaries were doing a very, very good job.

I particularly took notice of the one daughter with gorgeous dark hair and large brown eyes. Her name was Harriet, and I think I fell in love with her from the first moment I saw her. Unfortunately, this beautiful young woman didn’t seem to feel the same about me. She had many young men who wanted to make her acquaintance, and I began to wonder if she would ever see me as anything but a friend. But I didn’t let that deter me. I figured out ways to be where she was. When I passed the sacrament, I made sure I was in the right position so that I would be the one to pass the sacrament to her.

When we had special activities at church, I rode my bike to Harriet’s house and rang the doorbell. Harriet’s mother usually answered. In fact, she opened the kitchen window of their apartment on the fourth floor and asked what I wanted. I would ask if Harriet would like a ride to church on my bicycle. Harriet’s mother would say, “No, she will be coming later, but I will be happy to ride with you to church.” This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but how could I decline?

And so we rode to church. I must admit I had a very impressive road bike. Harriet’s mother sat on the top tube bar just in front of me, and I tried to be the most elegant bicycle driver over roads of rough cobblestone.

Time passed. While beautiful Harriet was seeing many other young men, it seemed that I could not make any headway with her.

Was I disappointed? Yes.

Was I defeated? Absolutely not!

Actually, looking back I recognize that it doesn’t hurt at all to be on good terms with the mother of the girl of your dreams.

Years later, after I had finished my training as a fighter pilot in the air force, I experienced a modern miracle in Harriet’s response to my continued courting. One day she said, “Dieter, you have matured much over these past years.”

I moved quickly after that, and within a few months I was married to the woman I had loved ever since I first saw her. The process hadn’t been easy—there were moments of suffering and despair—but finally my happiness was full, and it still is, even more so.

Even still, you may sometimes have a hard time. Here is a story that might help you about a Primary boy named Minchan Kim from South Korea. His family joined the Church about six years ago.
“One day at school, a few of my classmates were making fun of another student by calling him names. It looked like fun, so for a few weeks I joined in with them.
“Several weeks later, the boy told me even though he pretended he didn’t care, he was hurt by our words, and he cried every night. I almost cried when he told me. I felt very sorry and wanted to help him. The next day I went up to him and put my arm around his shoulder and apologized, saying, ‘I’m really sorry that I made fun of you.’ He nodded at my words, and his eyes filled up with tears.
“But the other kids were still making fun of him. Then I remembered what I learned in Primary class: choose the right. So I asked my classmates to stop. Most of them decided not to change, and they were mad at me. But one of the other boys said he was sorry, and the three of us became good friends.
“Even though a few people still made fun of him, he felt better because he had us.
“I chose the right by helping a friend in need.”
Isn’t this a good example for you to try to become like Jesus?

Years ago my mother was reading in the newspaper that a large church in our area of Detroit, Michigan, was having a meeting to expose the “Mormon cult.” We were shocked when my mother announced she was going. This was not something she would normally do.
The evening came, and my mother went and sat in the middle of several thousand people. The pastor read some literature against the Church and criticized its doctrine. At the end he asked, “Are there any questions?”
My little mother raised her hand and stood up. “I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I categorically deny everything you have said as falsehoods!” she stated boldly. Then she continued sweetly, “If anyone would like to know the truth about the Church, I’d be happy to answer their questions in the foyer afterward.” There was dead silence.
After the meeting, it was like the parting of the Red Sea as my mother walked out resolutely and stood in the foyer. Thousands filed past her quietly, knowing that what they had heard that day about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was simply not true. She then shook the pastor’s hand and left. She came home and shared her experience. We were stunned. I have never been prouder of my courageous mother in my life.

We didn’t have seminary in those days, but we did have religion classes at the college. One year the requirement was to read the Book of Mormon. It was getting near the end of the year, and I hadn’t finished reading it, so I stayed up one night to read. That was the first time I recognized the Spirit while I was reading the Book of Mormon. Suddenly I realized that the Book of Mormon is not just a book; it is what we say it is—the word of God. I learned to associate reading the scriptures with feeling the Spirit. I also learned there is a difference between just feeling the Spirit and being able to recognize the Spirit and act upon it. Once you put that combination together, then you learn to make that your guideline for making right choices in your life.

Grandpa, do you have any starfish?
Go fish!
WoooOOOooo
What’s that sound?
Tornado warning! Everyone downstairs!
… tornado is approaching Clay County …
Isn’t that close to here?
Yes, honey, but we’ll be all right. We’ve been through this before.
Glad we have these supplies down here.
I think we should say a prayer.
Can we read the Book of Mormon together?
Of course!
“The wind did never cease to blow towards the promised land while they were upon the waters.”
So the Jaredites went through a storm too!
Reading the Book of Mormon helps me not feel so afraid.
The next day …
Let’s make sure to thank Heavenly Father that we’re safe. Just like the Jaredites!
Thanks to Eily for sharing your story.
You can read these scriptures in Ether 6:8, 12.

I had a friend who was active for a long time in the Church. He always came alone because his family had decided they no longer wanted to come. I was impressed by his strength and courage. But then one day I heard that he no longer came to church. I felt strongly prompted by the Spirit that I should talk with him. I told him how impressed I had been that he had come alone to church, and I told him not to give up. That next Sunday he came to sacrament meeting and since then has continued to come to church. By being faithful and living the gospel, we can be examples to our friends and give them the love and support they need.Marina V., 18, Småland, Sweden

As we develop our talents and as we accept callings, we gain self-confidence and love for new kinds of service. Brigida Acosta de Perez was counselor in the Relief Society of a small branch in San Felipe, Mexico, where some sisters speak Spanish and others speak the native Nahaut language. Brigida exercised her talent to translate weekly lessons and found she was developing a new gift, that of bridging two cultures and encouraging love among the sisters.

Along with a bundle of letters
addressed in faded fountain pen to
a Miss June Tanner
and stamped with purple Benjamin Franklins,
A tarnished brooch, bird-shaped,
missing the eye stone,
And a leatherbound diary,
including news clippings, pressed flowers—
I found a photograph
of a little boy, freckled and
missing a front tooth from his smile,
My name and the date
penned on the back.
Like seeing an old schoolmate
for the first time in years,
it was a little awkward—
He, in Mom’s keepsake box,
wearing a sheepish first-grade grin;
I, fascinated by his familiar
red shirt and black-rimmed glasses
(held together on one side by wire and Magic Mending Tape)—
But I found myself
liking his daguerreotype quietness,
at ease in his stillness
and the way he was content to just grin,
So I didn’t press for details
but wiped off his dust veneer
and retucked him away,
feeling very old
for being
thirteen …

London Bridge is moving.
Moving up record charts across the nation that is. The LDS trio is currently seeing its single “When I Fall in Love” becoming a regular on both middle-of-the-road and soft rock radio stations.
Right now the group has temporarily disbanded while Rex Kocherhans, 20, and Bill Bacon, 19, serve missions. They entered the mission field in January, Bill to the Germany West Mission and Rex to the California Mission. The third member of the group, Jeff Kocherhans, Rex’s brother, hopes to be called in September when he will be 19. The trio plans to reunite when each member returns.
In addition to their contemporary and soft sound, the group tries to project the image each one of them feels is consistent with the standards of the Church.
“When we started over three years ago, we made one non-negotiable rule,” recalls Jeff. “There would be no songs with questionable lyrics and no music, however popular, that might be at variance with Church teachings or be offensive to our LDS brothers and sisters.”
It hasn’t always been easy for them. “It’s difficult to find popular numbers that don’t celebrate sexual immorality, drug abuse, or otherwise advocate a life-style opposed to what we know to be right,” says Jeff.
Rex believes members of the Church will someday take an active lead in contemporary music. “We can see that faithful Church members are achieving excellence in many areas because the Church—the strongest organization in the world—gives them the strength. We think Mormons will lead the way in music, too, and we’d like to be part of that achievement. We know it’s possible to be competitive in modern music and maintain Church standards at the same time.”
The group spent last summer at a Los Angeles entertainment park and had invitations to perform at both Disneyland and Disneyworld.
The trio has traveled more than 25,000 miles throughout Canada and the United States in the past two years on concert tours. They have performed for students at seminaries and institutes as well.
Jeff is attending Brigham Young University, where Bill and Rex were enrolled prior to their missions. Recording work and other appearances were scheduled around university classwork. After returning from their missions the three will continue in school, with recording sessions and concert dates arranged during vacation periods. They met in Provo and started their group while in high school.
Although their sound is described as “easy listening rock,” Bill recognizes that some Church members, especially the “over 30’s,” may not share the group’s taste in music, but he adds, “I believe they approve of what we’re doing. And if they don’t? We want to know about it.”
Realizing that they may be idolized by youth who have longed for a recording career or the possibility to be famous, Jeff recognizes the responsibility they have. “Some of the ‘idols’ around today aren’t the kinds parents want their children to follow. We try to conduct our lives so that any influence we have on people is for good and not for bad. We try to set the right example.”
Next time you hear that London Bridge is falling down—don’t believe it.

As the years went by, I hardly gave religion or spiritual matters a thought. But one night I became troubled with the way I was living my life. “If there really is a God,” I thought, “I want to know it.” I decided to make an honest effort to find out and felt the best place to start was the scriptures.
I started studying the New Testament and attending a Protestant church. I enjoyed what I learned there, but something bothered me. In Ephesians 4:5 [Eph. 4:5], we read of one Lord, one faith, and one baptism—yet I had friends of various faiths who seemed content with their different beliefs. I wondered how they could all be right. When I mentioned this to them, they just laughed. “It doesn’t matter what you believe,” they said, “as long as you accept Christ as your personal Savior.”
I didn’t feel comfortable with that concept and tried to find the answer in the scriptures. But I wasn’t getting any answers, and I became upset. Why didn’t the Bible just say which church was right? Next I went to the encyclopedia to see if I could find the answer there. If I learned when different churches were organized, I reasoned, maybe that would help. Again, I was disappointed.

In 1995, he met Catherine Ivonne Carrazana Zúñiga in Santiago when she started attending his ward while she was staying there with an uncle. They were sealed in the Santiago Chile Temple on September 12, 1997, and are the parents of two children.

My testimony continued to grow the next year as we read the Doctrine and Covenants. I obtained a testimony that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I also decided to follow his example and ask God if the Church is true. Although I already had conviction in my heart, one afternoon I found myself alone and sincerely prayed. As I did, I realized that the testimony I was asking for had been developing as I studied the scriptures and attended seminary.
The Lord opened my mind and my heart that year, and I understood the Doctrine and Covenants as I never had before. I also learned of the great value of souls (see D&C 18:10–16) and began to share my growing testimony with those who did not know about the gospel, including my father.

A YSA council was created. Brother and Sister Dwamena-Frimpong and Brother William and Sister Karen Aryee were called to serve as YSA supporting couples and gathering place specialists, respectively. “When this calling was extended to us, we had no idea of what to do and how to get things done,” said Sister Aryee. “As it is our human nature to come up with plans, thoughts, and goals for the future, we needed to realize God is the only one who truly knows what’s best for us. That was how we sought direction from the Lord for us to come up with activities that will unite, educate, and bring souls unto Christ. The Lord, indeed, answers prayers as we received guidance steadily on what to do and how to get all our YSA’s involved.”
The Aryees met with the stake presidency and began to petition the Lord to lead them and give them direction. President Ghunney, second counselor in the stake presidency, said, “Under the direction of the stake president, we met to discuss and plan on how to implement the gathering place. Through these council meetings, I have seen the heavens open, and revelations poured out to our understanding, and the more we met in council, the more the Lord made clear to us what we needed to do.”

My grandpa was born in England. At the age of nine, he began working long, difficult days in a soap factory to help support his mother and sisters. Eventually he immigrated to Salt Lake City, Utah, where he and Grandma raised five children. My dad was the oldest. By the time I came along, Grandpa had retired from his job as a maintenance auto mechanic for a large dairy company.

The youth of the Utah Weber Heights Stake were treated to an out-of-the-ordinary Mutual activity. You could say it was something special. They got to spend a food-and-fun-filled Saturday with a special-needs Mutual group in a neighboring stake. Each member of the special Mutual had two friends from the Weber Heights Stake to spend the day with them.
The youth admitted a little apprehension about the activity at first, but Ami Houston, 13, said that all it takes to get along is “being friends like you are to all your other friends.”

This coming week Sister Monson and I will celebrate our 60th wedding anniversary. As I look back to our beginnings, I realize just how much our lives have changed since then. Our beloved parents, who stood beside us as we commenced our journey together, have passed on. Our three children, who filled our lives so completely for many years, are grown and have families of their own. Most of our grandchildren are grown, and we now have four great-grandchildren.

Elder Corbitt spoke about a woman he talked to on a bus ride. She asked why he believed in Jesus Christ. He wasn’t sure what to say. Then he decided to focus on what mattered most. He told her that we need Jesus to help us return to Heavenly Father. We can share our testimonies too.