Gospel Story Finder

Today was Thursday, the day I was going to my friend Stephen’s house after school. Because I am in kindergarten and go to school in the morning, we were going to go somewhere special for lunch first and then go to his house to play.
After we played a game, Stephen’s mother asked if I’d like to play some video games. I love to play video games!
Then I remembered that I was not allowed to play them until Friday. I told her so, and I felt good inside. She was impressed because I had been honest. She told my mom about it when she came to pick me up. Mom was happy that I had been honest and not played the video games. She called me a “Choose the Right” warrior.

Our son Dan got very sick on his mission in Africa and was taken to a medical facility with limited resources. As we read his first letter to us after his illness, we expected that he would be discouraged, but instead he wrote, “Even as I lay in the emergency room, I felt peace. I have never been so consistently and resiliently happy in my life.”
As my wife and I read these words, we were overcome with emotion. Consistently and resiliently happy. We had never heard happiness described that way, but his words rang true. We knew that the happiness he described was not simply pleasure or an elevated mood but a peace and joy that come when we surrender ourselves to God and put our trust in Him in all things.1 We too had had those times in our lives when God spoke peace to our souls and caused us to have hope in Christ even when life was hard and uncertain.2

“You’re unusually quiet,” Mark’s mother observed on the drive home from Church. “Is anything wrong?”
Mark found tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “Today in Primary our teacher talked about testimonies and challenged us to bear ours. I really wanted to do it in fast and testimony meeting today, but I just couldn’t. When I thought about standing up in front of all those people, I got scared. Besides, I couldn’t think of anything to say. I guess I don’t have a testimony, after all.”
“It is frightening to stand up in front of all those people, especially if you don’t know what you’re going to say,” Mark’s mother agreed with him. “But it doesn’t mean that you don’t have a testimony. Do you know what it means to ‘bear a testimony’?”
“My teacher said it means to stand as a witness for something, like at a trial.”
“That’s one meaning. But another meaning of bear is ‘carry it with you.’ Our testimonies show in what we say and do every day of the week, not just on Sundays. Do you want to know if you have a testimony?”
“Yes.”
“Pay attention to how you live your life this month. I think you’ll discover that you are bearing your testimony all the time.”
Mark hoped that what his mother said was right. He thought that he had a testimony, but he wasn’t sure. He decided that each Sunday he would write in his journal about anything that happened to him that week involving his testimony.
The first week he wrote about something his friend, Jay, had said to him. He and Jay shared a paper route after school and split their paycheck. That week Jay had said to him, “I can’t understand why you always have more money than I do—we get paid the same amount.”
“You always spend yours right away on little things,” Mark pointed out.
“I know,” Jay said. “But a lot of yours goes to your church for—what do you call it again?”
“Tithing.”
“Yeah, tithing. And into your mission savings. But you still have more left than I do.”
Mark had never thought about it before, but it was true. He did seem to have more spending money than Jay. He guessed that he was just more careful with what he had left after tithing and savings.
The next week he didn’t know what he’d write about in his journal until Saturday night. That night his friends came over and invited him to go to the movies with them. He was excited until he heard the name of the movie. “I can’t see that movie,” he told his friends.
They were surprised. “Why not? It’s a really funny movie.”
“Because the rating tells me that it has something in it that we shouldn’t see.”
“It’s just a movie,” his friends tried to persuade him.
Mark thought about a lesson his family had had at a family home evening. He knew that the prophets had warned about watching bad things on TV and in movies, or looking at bad things in magazines or books. It was almost impossible to erase those bad images from your mind.
“I’d rather not see it,” he said, and his friends went without him.
The third week, Mark knew what he was going to write about in his journal long before Sunday. It was Monday morning, in fact, when one of his friends, Rob, had come to school looking very tired.
“What’s wrong,” Mark asked him. “Are you sick?”
“No.” Rob yawned. “I didn’t sleep much last night. I ate too much candy, and my stomach was upset for a long time.”
“Too much candy isn’t good for you,” Mark said. “It’s better to snack on fruit or eat a cheese sandwich or something.”
“I know that now,” Rob said as he put his head down on his desk.
The last week of the month, Mark wrote about a very frightening thing that had happened to him. He had been out delivering his papers in the rain and was almost hit by a car. Later he remembered that in their family prayers that morning, his little sister had prayed that they would all be safe in the rain.
When fast Sunday came again, Mark was prepared. His family sat close to the front of the chapel so that he could be first to the podium when it was time for bearing testimonies. During the meeting, he offered a prayer in his heart that he would know what to say.
When it was time, he stood and walked up to the microphone. At first, he was nervous at seeing all the people looking back at him, but most of them were smiling, and he knew that they were his friends.
“I have a testimony of the law of tithing,” he began, “and of the Word of Wisdom. I know we have a living prophet today, and I know Heavenly Father answers our prayers.” Mark ended his testimony and sat down. His mom patted him on the knee.
He still felt a bit shaky, but mostly he had a really good feeling, like he was glowing from head to toe. He was glad that he had a testimony and that he could bear it every single day.

A medical doctor in a village in Nigeria had a dream in which he saw his good friend speaking to a congregation. Intrigued, he traveled to his friend’s village on a Sunday and was astonished to find exactly what he had seen in his dream—a congregation called a ward being taught by his friend, who was their bishop. Impressed with what he heard in repeated visits, he and his wife were taught and baptized. Two months later over 30 others in their village had also joined the Church, and their clinic had become the meeting place.

“Many years ago, before you were born, Daddy and I bought this house. I was expecting Rachel and became sick not long after we moved in. I had to stay in bed for about a month. One day, not long after I became ill, Sister Chester came over. She cleaned the kitchen; made dinner for your dad and me; and washed, dried, and folded all the dirty clothes. I tried to get her to stop, but she smiled that special smile of hers and said, ‘Just being neighbors, girl. Just being neighbors.’

“She came over almost every day to fix dinner and do chores until after I had Rachel. On days when she couldn’t come, she sent her granddaughter over with dinner.

“Now that she is older and can’t do as many things as she used to, it is my opportunity to help her. Doing things for others helps us to feel useful and good inside. Besides, it is what Father in Heaven wants us to do.”

One Saturday in the middle of winter, my wife and I took advantage of a sunny but cold day to get to know our neighborhood better. We had recently moved thousands of miles from our home to the East Coast of the United States to pursue educational and career opportunities.
We decided to walk to a nearby university neither of us had visited. In time we found the university’s main library. We enjoy reading, and my wife, a graduate student, was curious to see what resources she might find for her studies. Because she was studying religious history, we browsed the stacks of the library’s religion section. As we glanced at some of the interesting titles, a small book with a familiar blue cover caught my eye.
“They have a Book of Mormon here!” I excitedly whispered.
I took the book from the shelf. It was an older copy, and I wondered how long it had been there. What really caught my attention was a small insert glued inside the front cover.
The insert was a brief testimony by a couple from Blackfoot, Idaho, USA. In their testimony, they explained what the Book of Mormon is and why it is important. They shared a brief but powerful testimony of the book, and they invited the reader to pray to know whether it was true.
Their words were simple, but their message went straight to my heart. Perhaps this couple meant for their testimony to be read by those not of our faith. Perhaps they had given this copy to someone they knew. Who knows how many times it had changed hands or how many miles it traveled to end up at the university library?
As I held the book in my hands, the Spirit filled my heart. For a moment, I felt my burdens wash away in the warmth of the Savior’s love.
That day in the library continues to remind me of the blessings I receive by reading the Book of Mormon and of the importance of sharing my testimony of it. Our testimonies may fall “upon stony places” or “into good ground” (see Matthew 13:3–9), but it is important that we share them. God will make sure they get delivered at the right time, in the right place, and to the right people.

After he received the gold plates, Joseph Smith’s life was threatened and many attempts were made to steal the plates. Joseph and Emma, his wife, moved to Harmony, Pennsylvania, and Martin Harris, a friend from Palmyra, New York, came to visit.
Mr. Harris … returned again to my house about the 12th of April, 1828, and commenced writing for me while I translated from the plates, which we continued until the 14th of June following, by which time he had written one hundred and sixteen pages of manuscript. … Mr. Harris … began to importune (beg) me to [let] him … carry the writings home and show them; and desired of me that I would inquire of the Lord … if he might not do so. I did inquire, and the answer was that he must not. However, he was not satisfied with this answer, and desired that I should inquire again. I did so, and the answer was as before. Still he … insisted that I should inquire once more. … Permission was granted … on certain conditions; which were, that he show them only to his brother, Preserved Harris, his own wife, his father and his mother, and a Mrs. Cobb, a sister to his wife. In accordance with this last answer, I required of him that he should bind himself in a covenant to me … that he would not do otherwise than had been directed. … He bound himself as I required of him, took the writings, and went his way.
Martin Harris had been gone for three weeks, and Joseph had heard nothing from him. Joseph took a stagecoach, then walked the last twenty miles in the dark to his parents’ home in Manchester, near Palmyra. He immediately sent for Martin. Several hours later, Martin arrived and explained that the manuscript pages had been lost.
Notwithstanding … the great restrictions which [Martin Harris] had been laid under, and the solemnity [seriousness] of the covenant which he had made with me, he did show [the manuscript pages] to others, and by stratagem they got them away from him, and they never have been recovered unto this day.
I should have been satisfied with the first answer which I received from the Lord; for he told me that it was not safe to let the writing go out of my possession.
I returned immediately home. Soon after my arrival, I commenced humbling myself in mighty prayer before the Lord … that if possible I might obtain mercy at his hands and be forgiven of all that I had done contrary to his will.
Both the plates and the Urim and Thummim were taken from me … ; but in a few days they were returned to me, … and the Lord said thus unto me:
“Now, behold, I say unto you, that because you delivered up those writings … into the hands of a wicked man, you have lost them.
“And you also lost your gift [of translation] at the same time, and your mind became darkened.
“Nevertheless, it is now restored unto you again; therefore see that you are faithful and continue on unto the finishing of the remainder of the work of translation as you have begun.” (D&C 10:1–3.)
The Lord told Joseph Smith that the people who stole the manuscript planned to change some of the words. If Joseph translated the same plates again, the thieves would show the pages they had altered and say that Joseph wasn’t a prophet because the two translations weren’t identical. The Lord long ago commanded the Book of Mormon prophet Nephi to prepare a second set of plates covering the same things, and He told Joseph to translate this set, instead.
(See History of the Church, vol. 1, pages 18–24; The History of Joseph Smith, Lucy Mack Smith, pages 128, 133.)

Jenna Beverley of the Chorley Ward said: “I knew that so many families would be without [food] over the holidays, so when I heard Holiday Hunger East Lancashire needed help, I knew we could use our car and time for good. It was great to see people come together, with what they had, to make this happen at such short notice. What I thought would be a one-hour service project turned into a six-hour quest to provide some relief to as many families as we could, but it was incredible to see the community come together for so many who requested help.”

Jenna’s son Isaac, aged 12, described the experience, “It was kinda stressful to deliver so many meals to people’s houses, especially when it was bad rain and then the phone battery died, so we didn’t know where we were going … but we did it!”

Since the airmen were normally only in Berlin long enough to unload their cargo and refuel their planes, Lt. Halvorsen decided to hike in on his day off to take some pictures. As he approached the city, he came upon a barbed wire fence that separated him from some German children who were playing. They began talking to him, and the tall man with the Utah accent and the tiny children with their faltering English became friends.
After talking with them for an hour, Lt. Halvorsen started to leave but had only walked a few steps when he turned back. There was something about these children that was different from all the others he had met while a serviceman.
“Most children would clamour around us, asking us for candy or gum,” he explained. “But these were different. These children had been through so much—their city had been practically destroyed; many of them had lost family members in the war. Yet not one asked for any gum or candy.”
He reached into his pocket to see if he had any treat that he could leave with them and found only two sticks of gum. He passed them through the fence and watched as the children eagerly accepted his small gift. Without argument they divided the small pieces of gum into even smaller pieces, and when there was none left to divide, passed the gum wrappers around to smell.
A plane swooped by overhead and gave Lt. Halvorsen an idea. He told the children that he would come back the next day, and if they would share it with each other, he would drop some candy from his plane as it flew into the city.
The children had only one worry: “How will we tell which plane is yours?” they asked. Lt. Halvorsen replied that he would wiggle the wings of his plane and then drop parachutes made from handkerchiefs through the flare chute.
The next day Lt. Halvorsen dropped three candy-laden parachutes to the children waiting below. “I could see the little group of kids in a cluster, standing in the same place I had left them the day before as if they hadn’t moved at all. When we flew back out of the city later that day, they were again standing there, this time waving the three white handkerchiefs through the fence at us.”

I had a friend who was a really nice girl, but she didn’t wear modest clothes. One day she was wearing a really short skirt. I decided to talk to her and find out why. At recess, I asked her why she was wearing a short skirt. She said she thought it was cute, and she didn’t have a longer skirt. I told her that short skirts aren’t modest and she could wear leggings under her skirt. The next day when my friend walked into class, I was surprised! She was wearing leggings under her skirt. I am glad I could help my friend be modest.

Photographs courtesy of Sherry LaBoon
A troop of Latter-day Saint Boy Scouts from Georgia, USA, were on their way to a high-adventure campout when they came across a family in need of some extra muscle. A mother, father, and their five kids had been out on a hike when the mom had fallen and broken her leg only five minutes before the Scouts showed up.
The family was a mile and a half away from their car. They were also outside cell phone range. The only solution was to carry the mother back to the car. The Scouts immediately put their own plans on hold to help the family. One of the Scouts had a cot in his car, so two Scouts made the three-mile round-trip run to bring the cot back to the injured mother. The troop members took turns carrying the injured woman over rough terrain for an hour and a half.
The young men don’t believe it was merely chance that they showed up at the right place at the right time. “I know we were supposed to be there,” says Alex J., one of those involved in the rescue. “God put us in that place at that time so we could help her.”

Dear brothers and sisters, this is very humbling, and I pray sincerely for the Spirit of the Lord to sustain me. Since being called as a General Authority last April, I have developed a greater love for the gospel of Jesus Christ and a much deeper appreciation and love for a great and wonderful wife who has stood by my side through every facet of married life. I am grateful for our five children who sustain us and live as they should, and thankful for parents who taught correct principles and set a marvelous pattern for us to follow. I have learned to love and appreciate good men and women who have influenced my life and stood by my side through many Church callings.
I am most thankful to a kind Father in Heaven for the privilege of serving in the Area Presidency of the South Pacific Islands under the leadership and direction of a great and spiritual leader, Elder Robert L. Simpson, and of being one with a counselor, companion, and friend, Elder Philip T. Sonntag. What a thrill it has been in the last month to participate in the dedication of a beautiful temple in faraway Australia, and to see thousands of wonderful Saints as they came from all corners of that great land and raised their voices in song and prayer and appreciation—true evidence that temples are being built in many countries across the face of the earth and that thousands of righteous men and women and children will visit them to be sealed together in family units for time and for all eternity.
We visited the Saints in New Zealand and felt the same sweet spirit. Our spirits were lifted and our testimonies strengthened. What a privilege to participate in the dedication of the first LDS chapel in Papua, New Guinea—where 450 wonderful native people sat with tear-filled eyes as President Robert L. Simpson dedicated their beautiful building. A handsome young New Guinean stood in that meeting with a Book of Mormon in one hand and a Bible in the other; he held them high above his head and bore a strong witness and testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ to his people. We thrilled after traveling sixty-five miles to a jungle village to witness the faith and testimony of our members there. They gave us gifts that had been handed down from generation to generation because we represented the gospel they love so much. And we gave a prayer and blessing on their village before we left. Tears filled our eyes as we saw President Kimball’s picture hanging in a building in far-off New Guinea.
We felt the spirit of missionary work as we literally watched the prophecies unfold that the gospel of Jesus Christ should be taken to every nation, kindred, tongue, and people. (See Mosiah 15:28.) I am grateful for the spirit of the gospel, the spirit of missionary work, and the spiritual leadership of great latter-day leaders. I support and sustain them with all my heart.

In 2015, I was doing proxy baptisms in the São Paulo Brazil Temple. While I was there, a man asked me if I was preparing to serve a mission. I said I hoped to serve someday. Then he said, “I think you need to prepare to serve a mission and speak French.”
I thought to myself, “Why French? I’m from Brazil. How will I serve a French-speaking mission?” Nevertheless, because of that experience in the temple, I started studying French.
A few months later, I was at a bus terminal in São Paulo reading the Book of Mormon in French. When the woman next to me saw the book’s cover, she started speaking to me in French. I had been studying the language for only a few months, but I understood her perfectly!
To my surprise, she knew about the Book of Mormon because she had met the missionaries in Paris, where she lived. She asked me many questions about the Nephites and the Savior’s visit to the Americas. Inexplicably, I was able to speak to her as if I were speaking in my native language. I gladly gave her my Book of Mormon.
At the beginning of 2020, I went to England to study English through an exchange program. I met a girl there from Morocco. Her questions about why I didn’t drink alcohol led to a discussion about the Word of Wisdom, the Church, and the Book of Mormon. I showed her my Book of Mormon in French, and I was again able to answer questions about the gospel in French.
I realized that people need to know about the gospel and this special book in their own language and that I could use the Book of Mormon to be an instrument in God’s hands to help others.
Inaê Leandro (right) with one of her companions, Sister Wongsin Elisaia, while serving on Temple Square in Salt Lake City, Utah.
Later, when I opened my mission call, I learned I was going to Temple Square in Salt Lake City, speaking Portuguese.
“Really?” I thought. “Everyone there already knows about the Church, and they don’t even speak French in Utah.”
When I told my family, my father asked, “You are leaving your high school teaching job, your home, your career—everything—for a mission? How much will they pay you?” He was surprised when I told him I would pay for my mission myself.
At first, I didn’t know why I was called to Utah, but Heavenly Father knew where I needed to be. At Temple Square, I quickly learned that if you know 10 languages—or only 2 or 3—you can teach in all 10 languages there. My companions and I gave tours in Spanish, Portuguese, and English at Temple Square and at the Humanitarian Center at Welfare Square. We also taught online in different languages through the ComeuntoChrist.org website.
I have experienced the gift of tongues for myself. When we have the desire and the enthusiasm to learn a language, and if we work hard, God blesses us in miraculous ways that help us speak and understand.
“When we have the desire and the enthusiasm to learn a language, and if we work hard,” says Inaê, “God blesses us in ways that help us speak and understand.”
I love reading the Book of Mormon in other languages. Doing so helps my language skills and grows my testimony and understanding of gospel principles.
Whenever I called home on preparation day, I shared details about mission successes and experiences. I focused on what I had in common with family members, and they shared their travels and things that were happening at home. They even told me how they fed the full-time missionaries pizza because they had heard stories of nice people in Salt Lake City taking care of my companion and me.
It has been 16 years since my mother passed away. That was a difficult day, but I know that families can be eternal. I know I will see my mother again. I know she will recognize me as her daughter. Many people don’t have this knowledge.
That’s why I served a mission. That’s why I learned new languages. And that’s why I still try to help others find gospel answers for themselves.

In October 1879, a group of 237 Latter-day Saints from several small southwestern Utah settlements was called to blaze a new route and colonize what is today known as San Juan County in southeastern Utah. The journey was to have taken six weeks but instead took nearly six months. Their struggles and heroics are well documented, particularly their seemingly impossible task of crossing the Colorado River at a place called Hole-in-the-Rock. Those who have visited this place marvel that wagons and teams could have been lowered through this narrow crack in the red-rock canyon walls to reach the Colorado River far below. Once the Colorado was crossed, however, many other severe tests awaited them on the trail to San Juan County. Tired and worn out, early in April 1880 they faced their final obstacle, Comb Ridge. The Comb is a ridge of solid sandstone forming a steep wall nearly 1,000 feet high.
One hundred and twenty years later, our family climbed Comb Ridge on a bright spring day. The ridge is steep and treacherous. It was difficult to imagine that wagons, teams, men, women, and children could make such an ascent. But beneath our feet were the scars from the wagon wheels, left as evidence of their struggles so long ago. How did they feel after enduring so much? Were they bitter after the many months of toil and privation? Did they criticize their leaders for sending them on such an arduous journey, asking them to give up so much? Our questions were answered as we reached the top of Comb Ridge. There inscribed in the red sandstone so long ago were the words, “We thank Thee, O God.”

Two years later the Prophet came out of Liberty Jail and planned a winter trip to Washington D.C. to seek federal help for the Latter-day Saints who had lost their homes and property in Missouri. Not far from the nation’s capital, the horses pulling the stagecoach ran out of control of the driver for about four kilometers. Joseph carefully opened the door of the swaying stagecoach, pulled himself up over the side to the driver’s seat, where he got control of the reins and stopped the horses, saving the lives of the passengers. This event was confirmed by a letter of appreciation that appeared in a local newspaper.

On one occasion my wife expected to be away for the weekend and asked one of the sisters in our ward to teach her Relief Society lesson. The week following the session, that sister came to our home and returned the instruction manual. She also brought to my wife a freshly baked loaf of bread and a handwritten note that read, “I love you. You are a special person. Thank you for thinking of me.” She was grateful to have been asked to serve. She was full of the love of Christ.

While we were in the sacred city of Jerusalem, we also had the unique blessing of being able to visit the tomb of the Saviour. As Gaby and I were making our way to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, for some reason I cannot remember, I was overwhelmed with anxiety. Looking back, I wouldn’t doubt that I was hungry and being bumped by thousands of people didn’t help.
In the queue to enter the tomb, it was uncomfortably warm. There was a lot of talk in many different languages, which now brings me joy—Christ truly is the Saviour of the world—but caused sensory overload at the time.
With all the people around and the heat stressing me out, I went onto my phone and tried to ignore everyone.
When Gaby and I were finally at the front of the line and walked into the tomb, all anxiety, discomfort and stress fled.
An almighty, miraculous peace, comfort and joy replaced them. In that location so sacred, so holy, I experienced yet another undeniable manifestation of the love of the Lord and I knew Jesus Christ was my personal Saviour.
He died for me personally. He died for all of us. He suffered, and bled, and died for us all. Three days later, scriptures tell us, He walked out of that tomb.
I have seen the tomb of the Lord Jesus Christ, and I testify that it is empty. Along with the angels who spoke to Mary Magdalene, I say this: “He is risen” (Matthew 28:6).

About one week before the January 1993 issue came out, I was very depressed and discouraged. I didn’t like myself and I felt as if the Lord didn’t even know I existed. When the New Era arrived, I sat down to read it. As I reached the end, there was the article “Like Yourself.” It was just what I needed. I realized that Heavenly Father does know I’m here and he loves me very much. Thank you for all the wonderful articles.
Natasha OlenikKailua, Hawaii

My wife and I taught our children the importance of setting aside tithing each week as they received an allowance or earned money babysitting or doing special jobs. They put the tithing in a little box. On fast Sunday they gave the tithing to the bishop. They also learned the value of money by saving a goodly portion of the balance of their income for a future mission and education.
Our grandchildren are now following a similar pattern.

In a business ethics class for my master’s program at the Schiller International University in Heidelberg, Germany, each student was asked to do a 20-minute oral presentation at the end of the semester. The professor asked me if I would talk about ethics from a Latter-day Saint perspective.
I was baptized at age 18 and was called to serve a mission in Brazil a year later. Since then I continued to share the gospel with many.
I knew it would be a challenge to discuss religious issues in the university environment, but I accepted the challenge. I decided to prepare a presentation covering information from Mormon.org.
My university has students from all over the world. My ethics class reflected that diversity, with 18 students from various nations.
The ethics presentations began with two students from India followed by a student from Myanmar. I was the last to present. I talked about “The Family: A Proclamation to the World,” the Articles of Faith, and other gospel topics. For most of the students, it was the first time they had heard about the Church.
I concluded with my testimony of the gospel and the importance of doing what is right despite the pressure around us. Finally I gave everyone a Book of Mormon in his or her own language. After my presentation I was bombarded with all kinds of questions. My 20-minute presentation turned into an hour.
The next school day, a friend from India told me he was impressed with my presentation and had read part of the Book of Mormon already. His friend, also from India, asked for a copy as well. Later a friend from Myanmar told me she was happy to hear about the Church, especially the teachings about families and the law of chastity because she believed those principles. She promised to read the Book of Mormon.
My friends from Ghana thanked me for telling them about the Restoration, promising that they would try to see the temple in Accra. My friend from Liberia told me my message was an inspiration to him and gave him hope for the future.
I was pleased that the Spirit of the Lord had confirmed my message. We may not always witness the impact of our words, but I know my class presentation will produce fruit in the future. I hope that some of the people in that classroom will someday accept the gospel and become instruments in the Lord’s hands to spread the message of the Restoration to all nations, kindreds, tongues, and people (see D&C 133:37).