Gospel Story Finder

One South American stake president, for example, had spent a painful year looking for a job before finally enrolling in the Career Workshop. As a result of what he learned, he made some changes in the way he dressed, rewrote his résumé, prepared a 30-second introduction, and practiced interviewing. Armed with the skills he learned, he found a position as chief financial officer in a large business.

Should we feel the assignment too arduous or time-consuming, let me share with you the experience of a faithful home teacher and his companion in what was then East Germany.

Brother Johann Denndorfer had been converted to the Church in Germany, and following World War II, he found himself virtually a prisoner in his own land—the land of Hungary in the city of Debrecen. How he wanted to visit the temple! How he desired to receive his spiritual blessings! Request after request to journey to the temple in Switzerland had been denied, and he almost despaired. Then his home teacher visited. Brother Walter Krause went from the northeastern portion of Germany all the way to Hungary. He had said to his home teaching companion, “Would you like to go home teaching with me this week?”

His companion said, “When will we leave?”

“Tomorrow,” replied Brother Krause.

“When will we come back?” asked the companion.

“Oh, in about a week—if we get back then!”

And away they went to visit Brother Denndorfer. He had not had home teachers since before the war. Now, when he saw the servants of the Lord, he was overwhelmed. He did not shake hands with them; rather, he went to his bedroom and took from a secret hiding place his tithing that he had saved from the day he became a member of the Church and returned to Hungary. He presented the tithing to his home teachers and said: “Now I am current with the Lord. Now I feel worthy to shake the hands of servants of the Lord!”

Brother Krause asked him about his desire to attend the temple in Switzerland. Brother Denndorfer said: “It’s no use. I have tried and tried. The government has even confiscated my Church books, my greatest treasure.”

Brother Krause, a patriarch, provided Brother Denndorfer with a patriarchal blessing. At the conclusion of the blessing, he said to Brother Denndorfer, “Approach the government again about going to Switzerland.” And Brother Denndorfer submitted the request once again to the authorities. This time approval came, and with joy Brother Denndorfer went to the Swiss Temple and stayed a month. He received his own endowment, his deceased wife was sealed to him, and he was able to accomplish the work for hundreds of his ancestors. He returned to his home renewed in body and in spirit.

And what about the home teachers who undertook this historic and inspired visit to their brother, Johann Denndorfer?

Knowing personally each member of this human drama, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to learn that on the way from Debrecen, Hungary, to their home in East Germany, they sang aloud: “Dangers may gather—why should we fear? Jesus, our Leader, ever is near. He will protect us, comfort, and cheer. We’re joyfully, joyfully marching to our home.”

The last week home was sad. I wasn’t having second thoughts or anything, but I sure was scared, and I realized how homesick I was going to be.
A couple of days before I left home to enter the MTC, I decided to walk from our house to Gus’s station, about two miles away, just to visit him at work one last time.
As I walked, I thought about Gus and myself. We’re the only kids in our home. We’ve always been close, even though we’re so different and he’s five years older.
Gus used to be active in the Church. He had become a deacon. Then about the time he entered junior high school he started to rebel. My parents were patient but heartbroken.
Gus was tough and mean and popular. I was never Paul—I was Gus’s little brother. But that was okay, because the big guys left me alone.
People marveled we were brothers.
When I was a senior in high school I had already decided to serve a mission, so my hair was always cut short—missionary style. That school year Gus and I would always go to lunch together.
He’d lock up his station and pick me up in front of the high school on his mean Harley-Davidson. We sure must have looked funny riding down the street—Gus with his beard and long hair, something out of a motorcycle gang, and me, “Mr. Clean,” your basic prospective missionary.
I approached Gus’s station that day from a trail in back of it and was rounding the corner to go into the office when I overheard Gus talking to someone about me. I stopped to listen. They didn’t know I was there.
“Did I tell you Paul is going on a mission?” Gus asked.
“Yer kiddin?” It was the voice of Rod, Gus’s best friend, my worst enemy.
“Nope, I’m real proud of the kid.”
“He’s a ‘boot licker,’” Rod cynically responded. “You don’t believe all that stuff about Joseph Smith do ya?”
I doubled my fist in instant anxiety.
How would Gus answer the question? Would he say what he really felt to Rod? His influence had always persuaded Gus to do wrong, which was why I disliked him so much.
Gus thought before he answered.
I can’t explain what his words did to me when he finally spoke. There are things in life you’ll never forget.
“Well, Rod buddy,” he said, “let me tell you. I don’t know everything; neither do you. It could be true. All I know is it sure makes a difference in Paul. He loves it.”
Rod continued to attack me.
“He idolizes you, Gus. He’d do anything you told him to, even if he thought it was wrong.”
“No he wouldn’t,” Gus defended. “He’s never been anything like me. If more Mormons were like him, I could maybe stand being around them. Nothing’s worse than a self-righteous Mormon. He’s never judged me. And he hasn’t given my parents nearly the heartache I have.”
Then Gus said something that really made me think.
“Anyway, if I ever caught him doing something wrong, if he ever let me down, so help me, I’d punch him out.”
I left them talking and started back home without them ever knowing I had been there. A lump formed in my throat as I realized why Gus had seemed so excited about my mission. Now I knew why he had always supported me.
You see, he needed me to be strong where he had been weak. I vowed that very day I would be strong for him. I’d resist my temptations. I would not let him down. He needed to know someone could be good. I would be.

A few months ago I received a letter from a family friend whom we had not seen for many years. Her letter was an expression of hopelessness and a plea for help. After struggling to raise her children as a single mother, she was now remarried. Her nonmember husband was a rough outdoorsman who attempted to express his manhood through drinking, foul language, tough talk, and questionable behavior. Her great concern was that her husband’s example was teaching her son that these indeed were the traits of manhood. Her plea to me: Is there some way, even though separated by great distances, that I might speak to her son, whom we shall call Ben, about the characteristics of true manhood? In answer to that plea, tonight I shall attempt to respond. Thus I address my remarks to a faraway friend and to all the “Bens” in the Church attempting to measure up as a man.

Brothers and sisters, I have never been a bishop. Since Friday afternoon I have felt puzzled, almost bewildered and overwhelmed, at how a man could be called to be a member of the Presiding Bishopric without having had the experience of being a bishop. I agonized for twenty-four hours until yesterday afternoon, when President Hinckley laid his hands upon my head and ordained me a bishop. I heard the voice of the Lord say in my heart, “No, Glenn, you have never been a bishop, but now you are a bishop, and always will be.”

When I was six, our family went hiking in the mountains. On the way back, my older brother, Barrie, and I ran ahead. We were excited!
We loved seeing the rocks, flowers, birds, and small creatures. But soon we realized we were alone, and the trail was gone.
We didn’t know how to get back. Trees were all around us. I imagined lions hiding behind each one! Barrie said we should shout for help. We shouted for a long time, but no one heard us.
Finally, Barrie turned to me and said, “I think we should pray.”
I thought that was a great idea. As he prayed, I kept one eye open to watch out for lions. After we prayed, we felt calm.
Just then, we heard rustling in the trees. I was sure it was a lion! But before I got too scared, I saw who it was. It was Dad! We were grateful our prayer had been answered.
As we walked back to the trail, we told Dad about our prayer. He stopped and said, “We need to pray again to thank Heavenly Father for His help.”
With happy hearts, we bowed our heads, and I thanked Him for answering our prayer. This time, I made sure both eyes were closed!
Illustration by Kelly Kennedy

How did the tryout go? Did you make the team?
No.
I’m sorry. That must be really disappointing.
At first I thought I would never play again …
But …?
I love playing. If I can’t play on the team, I can still enjoy playing …
… with you?
You’re on!

In any event, the charge came to my mind recently as I listened to the report of a returned missionary.
He told us that the wife in the family in whose home he and his companion were living was interested in the gospel; her husband was not interested, however. But finally he warmed up a little and said that when the missionaries had nothing else to do he would listen to them. Sometime thereafter when a wet and windy storm drove them in from tracting, finding him alone, they gave him the first missionary lesson. He didn’t exhibit much interest at first, but when they had concluded, he stood up and said, in effect:
“Do you know what you have just told me?”
They thought they did.
“Do you believe it?” he asked.
“Yes,” they replied, “we believe it.”
“Well then,” he declared, “you don’t understand what you’re saying. If you really believed that God and His resurrected Son, Jesus Christ, actually came to this earth in 1820 and personally appeared to a boy and gave him the message you say they gave him, no storm could drive you in from doing your work. With a message like that you would have to stay out there knocking on doors and delivering your message.”

Grandma fell and hurt her leg. Sarah is worried about her.
“What can we do to help Grandma?” asks Dad.
“Let’s say a prayer,” says Sarah.
“Please bless Grandma that she will feel better.”
“Let’s draw pictures for her!” says Sammy.
“Grandma loves butterflies!” says Sarah.
Sarah is thankful for prayer. So is Grandma!

Remember the circumstances of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Looked at through the lens of adversities, his life was one of poverty, persecution, frustration, family sorrows, and ultimate martyrdom. As he suffered imprisonment, his wife and children and the other Saints suffered incredible hardships as they were driven out of Missouri.

When Joseph pleaded for relief, the Lord answered:
“My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment;
“And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes” (Doctrine and Covenants 121:7–8).
This was the personal, eternal counsel that helped the Prophet Joseph to maintain his native cheery temperament and the love and loyalty of his people. These same qualities strengthened the leaders and pioneers who followed and can strengthen you as well.

Come what may, she knows she can rely on her family for help. “My mom and dad, they’re always there.” And so is the rest of her family! One time, two of Kelly’s friends moved away. This was especially tough because Kelly had grown very close to those friends. Once again, her family made the difference.

“My family was there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on or just to talk,” Kelly says about that difficult time. “They always know how to help me and just wrap me up in a blanket when I need it.”

Illustration by Don Seegmiller
I still remember the first time I saw the two men standing on our doorstep in Peru. They were wearing white shirts and ties, and they were so tall! I thought they had warm smiles.
They must be nice, I thought. My parents must have thought so too because soon the missionaries were coming to our home often.
I loved listening to the missionaries and always felt they were telling the truth.
“Don’t you want to be baptized, Mamá?” I asked my mother one day.
She smiled. “I do. But I want to be baptized with your father.”
I nodded. I was nine years old—old enough to be baptized. But I wanted to be baptized with my father as well, and he wasn’t sure if he believed what the missionaries taught.
“Keep praying, and the time will come,” Mamá said, as if she could read my thoughts.
I knew that the missionaries had challenged my father to follow the invitation at the end of the Book of Mormon to ask God with a sincere heart if the gospel is true. So one evening I decided to help my father with that challenge. I asked if we could pray together the way the missionaries had asked. We went into my room and knelt down. He asked me who was going to say the prayer.
“You say it, please,” I said.
My father started praying to Heavenly Father. When he asked if we should be baptized, a feeling of love and peace wrapped itself around us. It was so strong that my father stopped speaking for a minute. We knew we needed to be baptized.
I’ll never forget the look in my father’s eyes after he ended that prayer.
“We have our answer,” he whispered, giving me a hug.
I smiled as I buried my head in his shoulder. The Holy Ghost had made it possible for us to know the truth (see Moroni 10:5).

My sister and I are the only members of the Church in our school. People notice we are different and always ask questions. At first I was nervous to talk to them, but I prayed to be able to say the right thing, and they have listened and respected my choices.
Ruben, Norway

Thank you for publishing Ann Edwards Cannon’s fiction “Camp Star” (June 1996). I could really relate to the story because of the situation I have with my father. In our ward, he has been the Scoutmaster and bishop. Through those years, ward members would come up to me and say, “Oh, you look just like your father,” or “I am so glad to see you walk in your father’s footsteps.” It would make me cringe inside. I didn’t like the way my father acted or looked, and I definitely didn’t want to walk in my father’s footsteps. My father and I are two totally different people, and I hated it when my father would act different when we were at a meeting, a function, or a camping trip. I felt embarrassed when I was with him. I acted like the character Wendy in the story, and I understood how Wendy felt when her mother acted like a “maniac.” When I read the ending of the story, I felt hopeful and comforted. I haven’t solved my problem yet, but I am more patient and forgiving when it comes to my father making me feel embarrassed. Thanks for publishing this story. It has really helped me.
Name Withheld

Over spring break, I got to talk with my sister who is serving her mission in the Idaho Idaho Falls Mission. I told her that track was about to start and how excited I was. I told her how badly I wanted to beat the school record for the 1600-meter and 800-meter races.
“I probably won’t be able to. The record time is pretty fast,” I told my sister. The school record did seem impossible. I started thinking about the one girl I had never been able to beat. Maybe trying to keep up with her or even beating her would be a better goal.
My sister did not answer right away, but she seemed to be smiling through the phone. “I know I’m a missionary,” she said. “So you might expect me to give you some kind of a challenge, but I really want you to try something. I want you to try to read your scriptures and pray every day. And if you do, God will bless you to do your best.”
“I’ll try,” I said. I had not really been reading my scriptures every night, and I wasn’t quite sure if, or how, reading would help me run.
The next few nights I read, prayed, and went to bed without really thinking about it. One night as I was brushing my teeth, I thought, “I’m not really getting anything out of reading the scriptures.” Then I remembered President Russell M. Nelson’s invitation to read the whole Book of Mormon and mark all references to Jesus Christ (see “Sisters’ Participation in the Gathering of Israel,” Oct. 2018 general conference [Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2018, 69–70]). So I started to mark the references to Christ as I read. I began to get more out of reading and to truly ponder the scriptures.
After 15 consecutive days of reading and praying every night, I had my first track meet. And I was super nervous. My first race was the 4x800-meter run. I was the anchor runner. When I started running the last leg, my team was in 7th place out of 10 teams. We finished in 3rd place. Had I gotten faster?
While I was waiting for the mile, I watched all the other races and prayed that I would do well. When we walked to the starting line, my heart was beating so fast I thought it would jump out of my chest. I prayed again and felt peace. We were all lined up, and I had a flashback from all the mile races I had run in the year before. I would be in first place the whole race, unsure if my pace was fast enough to beat the record. Then on the final stretch, I would get discouraged when a certain girl from another school would sprint ahead of me and take first place. So I decided to try to do that myself this time.
As the gun went off, I went straight behind the girl from the year before. We were in first and second place. My coach was at the 200-meter mark, and she told me my time and encouraged me. I wanted to run up ahead, but I knew that she would pass me on the last stretch if I did. She kept looking back at me like she was afraid of me.
On the last lap, I could hear the girl who was in third place trying to pass both of us. So I bolted. I ran as fast as I could. There were so many people cheering—my parents, teammates, and friends’ parents.
When I passed the finish line, the first thing that came to my mind was, “Did I do it?” Then I turned and saw everyone else finish. Then I looked toward the girl I hadn’t been able to beat before. Her eyes were big when she said, “Man, you got so much faster.” I had won!
I was so happy. I couldn’t believe I had actually done it! Then I realized that I hadn’t done it alone. I said a quick prayer to thank Heavenly Father. Taking my sister’s challenge helped me to be better at studying the scriptures. And I had a better relationship with Heavenly Father. I had also been able to get faster and smarter about my running. Heavenly Father listens to our prayers. And if we do our part and have faith, He will answer them.
The author lives in Missouri, USA.

The Church has recently joined with the Andean Children’s Foundation to help residents of the Bolivian mountains improve their communities. In this project, development specialists meet with community leaders to determine the needs of their village. The specialists then assist the leaders in organizing projects for meeting those needs. In addition, the Andean Children’s Foundation helps obtain the technical resources needed to carry out projects.
This process teaches residents to think through their needs and work together to improve their communities. It also gives them a sense of accomplishment and builds confidence in their abilities to make future improvements.
For example, the leaders of the village of Sora Sora wanted to improve agricultural methods so that they could grow more crops. The foundation helped the people come up with a low-cost plan for digging wells, building windmills to pump water, constructing storage tanks to store that water, digging canals to irrigate crops, and building greenhouses for growing vegetables that cannot survive the cold of the high Andes. Villagers built the system and now maintain it themselves. As the people see the success of the community project, they are beginning to adapt it to their own farms.
Building schools, training community health workers, and developing new food sources are some of the other projects villages are now undertaking with help from the foundation.

Scribe James Mulholland was one of many boarders in the Prophet’s home over the years. He kept the Prophet’s second Missouri journal in three pages of a handmade pamphlet. The entries cover only one month—from early September to early October. The journal, titled “Memorandum Etcetera,” consists of brief notes regarding Joseph Smith’s comings and goings, often tracking these movements to within the half hour. Written during a time of increasing conflict in Missouri, the journal may have been commissioned by the Prophet to provide a record that could be used in a court of law to document his daily whereabouts.
James Mulholland was not privy to the Prophet’s intentions and activities, as was First Presidency scribe George Robinson. The last entry, dated October 5, 1838, concludes with “Did not see him all the afternoon; understood that he went from home.” In fact, Joseph Smith had gone to De Witt, Missouri, to help the Saints who had been besieged by vigilantes.

“Once, when I was about seven years old, Mother gave me a dollar bill and asked me to go to Joe Wood’s market to buy a pound of hamburger. As Joe Wood put the hamburger on the counter, I put my hand in my pocket for the money—but the dollar bill was gone! I just panicked. I said to him, ‘I’ll have to come back later,’ then ran out of the store and retraced my steps, looking for the money. I couldn’t find it. I got all the way back home without finding it.
“I couldn’t face Mother and tell her I’d lost the dollar, so I ducked under the kitchen window and went around to the coal shed. I knelt down on the ground and told Heavenly Father that I just had to find that money. Then I crawled back under the window and went down the street again. There in the parking lot I found the dollar! Gratefully, I picked it up and went into the store to pay Joe Wood his money and get the hamburger.

I continued to help with the work on the Choctaw-Armstrong Roll. Lorraine Nievar of Ardmore, Oklahoma, whose ancestors are Choctaw and French, also helped with name extraction work on the record. When the work was complete, 1,500 names from the record were sent to the temple in Dallas, Texas, so that Sister Nievar and her family could help perform their ancestors’ temple work. Another 1,500 names were sent to the Logan Utah Temple, where many of my friends and neighbors have helped with the work.

Following high school, Elder Christofferson attended Brigham Young University for a year before leaving to serve a full-time mission in Argentina. There, he says, he learned from “two exceptional mission presidents,” President Ronald V. Stone for the first several months of his mission and President Richard G. Scott (now Elder Scott, a fellow member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles) for the remainder of his mission.
Of Elder Scott, Elder Christofferson remembers: “We learned to be exacting of ourselves, as he was of himself. He always focused on the higher possibilities of being able to grow more and do more and accomplish more. Because of that, we began to see a higher vision of ourselves, the work, and what we could accomplish.”