Gospel Story Finder

Several years ago a young man was caught in a serious act of theft. He was taken to jail. His parents were shocked and embarassed. They assured him that he didn’t need to worry because they had “influence” with people in high positions and were sure they could get him released. Their bishop, though well-meaning, told the boy that he would do all in his power to see that a good boy like him did not have to pay for his crime. The boy finally got angry and said: “Can’t you see what you are doing to me? I am guilty. If you get me released without punishment, you will force me to carry the burden of guilt all the days of my life. Please let me pay for my wrongdoing so that I might eventually be set free from guilt.”

Ardeth G. Kapp, a former Young Women general president, was assigned to attend a national leadership task force in Washington, D.C. Their purpose was to protect the family and society. She reported that, “After an opening prayer, one of the women rose from her seat to make this significant, brief observation, which was felt by everyone present. ‘One woman … is helpful; ten women are influential; one hundred are powerful; one thousand are invincible’” (Better Than You Think You Are [2005], 8).

A quilt is all about bringing things together: different colors, different shapes, even different kinds of fabric. And in the Winnipeg Manitoba Stake, a quilt is also about bringing people together. Stake gatherings are a special challenge for the Manitoba Stake, since it covers all of Manitoba, part of Ontario, and a tiny slice of Minnesota (that’s two provinces and two countries, if you’re keeping track). So they decided to make a quilt, since they could work on their individual pieces separately but still have a finished product that all of them had worked on.

On each piece of the quilt, the girls embroidered a scripture that illustrates one of the Young Women values. And, although none of the girls would ever dream of curling up with the quilt on her bed, it gives them all a nice warm feeling.

Soon after Sabrina and Camila returned to church, they began reaching out themselves. When Ana Carolina Batista, age 14, began investigating the Church with her mother, the twins were there to help. The first time she attended church, Ana Carolina’s anxiety melted when the twins sat by her and showed her how to look up scriptures in the lesson. “This made me feel good, because I didn’t know what to do. I felt relieved to see there were people to help me,” she remembers.
Ana Carolina says the twins’ friendship made her decision to join the Church much easier. Sabrina and Camila were also happy; their little class was growing.

For example, my maternal great-grandmother lost five of her 11 children before they reached adulthood, lost her home in a fire, and suffered from skin cancer for years until it caused her death when she was only 50.

Gabe was in the kitchen, but he could hear Mrs. Cole at the front door talking with Mom. “I don’t know how it happened! I just noticed little scratches all over my car door, and they weren’t there this morning.”
Gabe’s heart sank. He hadn’t meant to mess up Mrs. Cole’s car. He’d been playing in the dirt next to Mrs. Cole’s driveway. He was just drawing in the dirt with a stick. But soon he found himself using the stick to draw lines up and down on the back door of the car, fascinated with how the tiny lines looked in the paint. He thought they’d go away if he just brushed over them with his hand—like the lines he made in the dirt—but they didn’t.
Gabe heard the door shut as Mom walked outside to see the scratches. He had to think fast—there wasn’t much time.
He ran upstairs to his room, shut the door, and plopped onto his bed. He closed his eyes and felt his heart thumping. Slowly he lifted his head. He glanced at the photo of Grandma on his bookcase. He was glad she didn’t know what he had done. Grandma was always honest and had taught him to be honest too. When she was young, she decided she would never tell a lie so that others would always believe her.
Slowly Gabe slid off the bed and walked over to Grandma’s picture. He wanted to be someone people could believe too. He pulled out his jar of coins. He’d been doing extra chores to earn money for a toy he really wanted. If he told the truth, he’d have to give up the money he’d saved to help fix the car.
Gabe wanted to be honest, but he didn’t want to get in trouble. He didn’t want Mom and Mrs. Cole to be mad at him. Besides, no one had seen him scratch the car. He could just say he didn’t know what happened. But that thought made him squirm inside. He knew that even though no one had seen him, Heavenly Father and Jesus knew. He couldn’t lie to Them. He didn’t want to lie to Them.
He slowly walked down the stairs to the front door. He heard his mom outside asking his older brother if he knew what had happened to the car. Gabe straightened his shoulders and stepped outside.
Mom turned as he walked toward her. “Gabe? Do you know how Mrs. Cole’s car got scraped up?”
Gabe took a deep breath and said, “I did it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your car.”
Mom put her hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “Thank you for being honest,” she said quietly.
She turned to Mrs. Cole and said, “We’re so sorry Gabe scraped up your car. We’ll pay for the damage.”
“I’ll help earn the money,” Gabe said quickly.
He thought about the hard-earned money in the jar on his dresser. He wished he’d never picked up that stick. But he also felt relieved. It hadn’t been easy, but he had been honest! Gabe knew Grandma would be proud. And Heavenly Father would be happy too.

Ann’s parents chose to raise her without religion. Newel had a business mindset. But as they set up house in Kirtland, Ann sensed something missing in their lives. They began looking for a church that followed the gospel as taught by Jesus Christ in the New Testament. For a while they worshipped with Alexander Campbell’s Disciples of Christ.

“One night,” Ann recalled, “… as my husband and I, in our house at Kirtland, were praying to the Father to be shown the way, the Spirit rested upon us and a cloud overshadowed the house. … A solemn awe pervaded us. … We heard a voice … saying, ‘Prepare to receive the word of the Lord, for it is coming.’”

In New York, hundreds of miles away, the Lord told Joseph Smith to send missionaries to preach the gospel. When those missionaries—led by Oliver Cowdery and Parley P. Pratt—preached in Kirtland, Ann listened and later wrote, “I knew it to be the voice of the Good Shepherd.” The witness of the missionaries, other believers like Lucy and Isaac Morley, and most importantly, the Holy Ghost, led them to make sacred covenants. Ann and Newel were baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in November 1830.

Arriving in Kirtland in 1831, Joseph Smith introduced himself to Newel, saying, “I am Joseph, the Prophet. … You have prayed me here.”

For some reason, I began to think about the Saints in Nauvoo. I remembered that after all their sacrifices and work to construct their temple, they had to flee Nauvoo, leaving the temple and their homes behind. I marveled at the great faith of these people. In the midst of their trials, they continued to have confidence in Heavenly Father and to do all He asked of them.

For Christmas one year, my wife, Julia, made candy-cane chocolate sweets that we wrapped in little decorated boxes. Then we visited those in the Spanish-speaking branch we ministered to and gave them our gift, along with wishes for a merry Christmas.
When we arrived at the house of Brother Sanchez, a friendly, elderly member of our branch, we knocked and waited. No one was home, so we left the candy in his mailbox.
Several weeks later, during sacrament meeting, Brother Sanchez spoke of his conversion and of the many miracles he had experienced throughout his life. He testified of the amazing power of the Book of Mormon to answer life’s deepest questions. He lifted the set of scriptures he had received decades ago from the missionaries who had taught him. His voice trembled with his love for and testimony of the Lord.
Then Brother Sanchez did something we did not expect. He set our little decorated box on the pulpit. He said that when he found the box, he didn’t think he would eat the sweets because he is diabetic. Instead, he placed the box on his nightstand and forgot about it.
A few days later, as he lay in bed, he said he felt his blood sugar suddenly drop. Fear overcame him when his body began to shake. He recognized that he faced an emergency, knowing that he might need to call an ambulance. Then he noticed the box. He grabbed it, opened it, and quickly ate the chocolates. He felt relief as his blood sugar returned to normal.
Brother Sanchez lifted the empty box and testified that small acts of service can make a big difference. He testified that such experiences are not a coincidence and that Heavenly Father’s hand is in the details of our lives.
My wife and I were humbled to know that our small act of service had made a large impact on him and had maybe even saved his life. As we do small acts of service for those around us, the Lord will unlock opportunities that bless lives in powerful ways.

Traveling without purse or scrip, Brigham found that $13.50 given them by the Saints and kept in his trunk became like the Old Testament widow’s cruse of oil and barrel of flour that were continually replenished; drawn from again and again, it provided $87 worth of fares and meals as they traveled by stage across Indiana and Ohio to Kirtland. There they found John Taylor; he had left earlier while in good health but had been stricken enroute by a near fatal illness from which he was just then recovering. Brigham, showing the expanding dimensions of his spiritual leadership, met with the apostles in the temple where he anointed and blessed Elder Taylor and washed the apostles’ feet.25

One Saturday morning I received a phone call from a friend, another young single adult in our ward in Wiltshire, England. Her stepmother, who lived in the same village as I, was ill at home in bed. She could hardly move and, though not a member of the Church, had asked if I could give her a blessing.
I had been a member of the Church for just a few months, but because of training in priesthood meeting, I felt reasonably prepared to give a blessing, though a little apprehensive. I said I would find a companion and come as soon as possible.
I immediately thought of the nearest elder in the ward and drove to his abode. His wife answered and reminded me that the endowed brethren in the Swindon Ward had gone to the temple that day. As I drove away, somewhat despondently, I stopped the car and asked Heavenly Father for direction.
As I prayed, I asked if there was a Melchizedek Priesthood holder available to go with me. The name of Stuart Ramsey immediately came to my mind. I didn’t have his phone number, but he and his wife, Gill, lived on an air force base about six miles away.
Arriving at their home, I knocked on the door with full confidence that Stuart would be able to accompany me. “He’s not here,” Gill said to my surprise. “He had to go to the base.”
Undeterred, I asked if I could contact him. She explained that Stuart, a mechanic, was helping a friend with his car in a secured area of the base. He couldn’t be contacted by phone, and I wouldn’t be allowed past the security gates.
Why would I feel such a strong impression to seek Stuart’s help, only to find out he was unavailable? Had I misunderstood the answer to my prayer? “No,” I thought to myself, “he must be here.”
At that very moment I heard a cheery voice call out from behind me. “Paul, what are you doing here?” It was Stuart! He had been struggling to repair his friend’s car and had felt impressed that he should return home. I explained my predicament, and he readily agreed to assist me in administering a blessing.
I was grateful to have Stuart’s experience. He anointed, and as I sealed the anointing, I felt prompted to pronounce a blessing of healing. As I drove Stuart home, he rejoiced in being led by the Spirit to leave his work in time to meet me at his house.
I was overjoyed the next morning to learn that my friend’s stepmother was feeling much better. I have administered blessings on many occasions since, but I am grateful that I learned early on that no matter how inexperienced we are in our priesthood duties, when we rely on the Lord, keep His commandments, and do our best to magnify our callings, He will guide us in the path we should take.

Weeks later, on August 2, 2025, at the Manila Philippines Temple, my wife Anna Marie performed Eliza’s initiatory and endowment ordinances. This fulfilled Eliza’s deepest desire and reminded us that through God’s covenants, families are bound by eternal love.

The most recent proclamation, issued by the First Presidency and Council of the Twelve Apostles, was read by President Russell M. Nelson in the April 2020 general conference, during the year of the 200th anniversary of the First Vision.
“We wondered if a monument should be erected,” President Nelson said. “But as we considered the unique historic and international impact of that First Vision, we felt impressed to create a monument not of granite or stone but of words—words of solemn and sacred proclamation—written, not to be carved in ‘tables of stone’ but rather to be etched in the ‘fleshy tables’ of our hearts.”2

Some of the best lessons learned in life come from our parents. Mine taught me valuable lessons as I was growing up. Frequently those lessons had to do with serving others. I have many memories of my boyhood days. Anticipating Sunday dinner was one of them. Just as we children hovered at our so-called starvation level and sat anxiously at the table with the aroma of roast beef filling the room, Mother would say to me, “Tommy, before we eat, take this plate I’ve prepared down the street to Old Bob, and hurry back.”

I could never understand why we couldn’t first eat and later deliver his plate of food. I never questioned but would run down to his house and then wait anxiously as Bob’s aged feet brought him eventually to the door. Then I would hand him the plate of food. He would present to me the spotlessly clean plate from the previous Sunday and then offer me 10 cents as pay for my services.

My answer was always the same: “I can’t accept the money. My mother would tan my hide.”

He would then run his wrinkled hand through my blond hair and say, “My boy, you have a wonderful mother. Tell her thank you.”

I remember too that Sunday dinner always seemed to taste a bit better after I had returned from my errand.

Brother Uviwe Malgas served a mission in Uganda, and he participated in the campaign. He felt very close to the Saviour and the experience helped him grow.
“I enjoyed using the advent calendar and using the activities relevant for mission standards. I enjoyed participating because this helped me grow closer to God; I enjoyed helping those in need,” said Malgas.

Twelve years later, after Clara was grown, this beautiful rock chapel was the place where Sister Aurelia Rogers began the very first Primary. Clara was there to play the organ and was also appointed the treasurer of this new organization.

After organizing the Church in New York state, the early Saints, looking for a hospitable place to live and worship, arrived in Kirtland, where Oliver Cowdery, Parley P. Pratt, Peter Whitmer, and Ziba Peterson had introduced the Church to one of the town’s foremost preachers, Sidney Rigdon. With a well-respected clergyman encouraging his congregation to listen to the missionaries, the Saints found a community that was anxious to learn more about the restored gospel.

When the time came, I shared some of my history and what I had learned: I was born in Monrovia, Liberia, in 1996, during the civil war. My father was a soldier, steadfast and determined, navigating a world torn by the Monrovian conflict. He was deeply cherished as the only son of his mother. Tragically, both of my parents passed away two weeks after my birth; they were victims of the brutal conflict that engulfed our country. With their loss, I was taken back to my mother’s roots in Guinea, where I spent my childhood alternating between Guinea and Ivory Coast. I grew up hearing stories about our family’s origins and the incredible legacy left by our ancestors. I learned that our great-grandparents began their journey in Sudan over 200 years ago.

This rich spirituality and transparent purity of President Eyring’s faith began early. Born to Henry and Mildred Bennion Eyring on May 31, 1933, while Henry Sr. was a world-renowned professor at Princeton University, Hal was raised in a region in which there were so few Church members that the Eyrings held Sabbath meetings in their home. President Eyring would later joke that he and his younger brother, Harden, constituted the whole Primary of the branch, and their older brother, Ted, filled out the entire Young Men program. Their mother, Mildred, was the pianist and music leader, though how she did both he doesn’t quite remember.
Not being able to worship with a large ward didn’t prevent Hal from beginning to gain a testimony. “I learned then,” he recalled, “that the Church is not a building; the Church isn’t even a lot of people. I felt close to Heavenly Father and knew [even then] that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is His church; it didn’t matter that our little branch met in our dining room.”

Some years ago a British jet plane crossed and recrossed the Atlantic Ocean in a short few hours. Shortly thereafter a cartoon appeared in the New York Times which pictured the jet plane traveling at a fantastic speed. The plane was labeled “Man’s Scientific Progress.” On the ground was a huge turtle, moving slowly and ponderously. It was labeled “Man’s Moral Progress.”
One writer added this:
“In a vivid way this cartoon symbolizes what could be the tragedy of the modern age, and what is without doubt one of the most compelling reasons for greater attention to moral and spiritual values in our homes and in our schools.”