Gospel Story Finder

My little brother, Benjamin, is six years old. A sister in our stake who had cancer needed an operation but didn’t have enough money for it. Flyers reading, “Will you please help save a life?” were sent out asking for donations. When Ben read one, he got twenty dollars, which was all he had, and put it in an envelope to give to the sister. He only gets sixty cents a week for allowance, so twenty dollars was a lot of money for him.
Ben collects coins as a hobby, and I said, “Why don’t you give just part of your money, then you can buy some coins for yourself with the rest.”
“Which is more important, buying coins or saving a life?” he asked. That really impressed me, and I decided to donate some money, too.
My parents kept saying how good Benjamin was because he had given all the money he had. This made me a little jealous of my brother because although I hadn’t given all the money I had, I had donated more money than Ben!
Then I remembered a scripture story about a really poor woman who had only a little money. She gave it all to care for the poor. Some rich people came and gave lots of gold. They were proud of how much money they had given to the poor. But Jesus Christ said that the poor woman had given the most because she had given all that she had.
I was sorry for being jealous of my brother. I felt good knowing that we had been able to help raise the money for the operation. Most of all, I was glad that my little brother had helped me learn a very important lesson about giving.

Consider, for example, ten apples. Now, all ten of these apples actually belong to the Lord, but He asks us to return to Him only one-tenth, or one apple.
Are you offering only a small bite of that apple and keeping 90 percent? Are you willing to offer the Lord such a small portion?
Are you ashamed, or do you try to patch up and hide the bitten portion of the apple and then offer that to the Lord?
We want our offerings to be full and clean. We have been taught: “Behold, the Lord requireth the heart and a willing mind; and the willing and obedient shall eat the good of the land of Zion in these last days.”6

I can remember the first words Cort Tyler ever said to me. He leaned over my shoulder, looked at the book I was reading before I could jerk it out of sight, and said, “Hey, you’re reading I, Robot.”
We were standing in line, waiting to get into the high school basketball tournament. Actually I was in line with my best friend, Laney. Cort was with his girlfriend, Trish, standing right behind us.
Of course, I knew who he was. He was in my stake, and sometimes I saw him playing basketball in our building. I always thought he didn’t know who I was. At that time I was suffering from an invisibility complex. I thought that no one really ever saw me, especially someone I was developing a crush on. So I was more than a little surprised when Cort spoke to me.
I turned to look at him, but ended up face to face with Trish instead. She was watching me with a look my cat gets when he’s sitting in the windowsill watching robins land on the ledge on the other side of the glass.
“I just checked it out of the library,” I said, glancing from Trish back to Cort. “I started reading it on the bus on the way home. That was my mistake. Now I can’t put it down.”
I stuffed the book into my purse, but Cort kept talking.
“I think I’ve read every one of Asimov’s science fiction books,” he said. “I can’t believe a guy could write that many, but he’s great.”
I could hardly concentrate on what Cort was saying. Trish kept her eyes on my face. There was no possibility of a smile on those lips until Cort glanced down at her at his side. She flashed her teeth and slipped an arm around his waist, hooking her thumb through his belt loop.
Cort absentmindedly hung his arm across her shoulders and kept talking to me. “I think I have about four paperbacks at home that belong to the library. I wasn’t going to return them, but I’ll take them back if you want them.”
“Sure, I’d like … ,” I tried to say, but just then the line started to move. The surge of the crowd carried us through the doors. Laney and I went to sit with the Pep Club, but I watched Cort walk through the crowd until he sat with some friends at the top of the bleachers. Trish was still glued to his side, his arm still around her shoulders, but he had his head turned away, talking to someone I couldn’t quite see.
I didn’t talk to Cort again for five months. I was in the habit of checking for him wherever I went. Sometimes I would see him across the cultural hall at stake dances, but he was always with the guys that hang around the edges making fun of some of the girls—the guys that act up until one of the chaperones plants himself in the middle of the group to interrupt the obnoxiousness that seems to feed on itself. Other than that I only saw him in the halls at school.
I wasn’t at all prepared for our second conversation.

“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.

At one time and at great sacrifice, my mother and I went to the temple. There we said many prayers for our family, especially for my younger brother who had not been active in the Church for five years. On our return home, we discovered that at the very moment we were praying in the temple, my brother was asking the full-time missionaries to help him and his friend live better lives. In time, he was able to baptize his friend, and now both of them are preparing to serve missions.
Celeste Mongi, Los Olmos Branch, Villa María Argentina District

You precious young ladies will need a lot of courage—courage to stand up to peer pressure, to resist temptation, to withstand ridicule or ostracism, to stand up for the truth. You will also need courage to face the challenges of life. One young woman who was a cross-country runner wrote: “I am often tempted to give up and quit during a race. During my first race this year, when I was just about to be overpowered and stop running, the words to the third verse of ‘How Firm a Foundation’ filled my mind. The words gave me the courage to finish the race.”
Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.
I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand, …
Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.

My friend Kaj and I have played soccer together for three years. Last season we decided to try out for the all-star team. We tried our hardest during tryouts. The coach contacted our parents to ask if we could play on Sundays. We told the coach that Sunday was our Sabbath and we needed to keep it holy. It was hard giving up our spots on the team, but we knew keeping the Sabbath day holy was the right thing to do.
Landon B., age 11, Virginia, USA

One day a man in the ward stopped by to sell Spencer’s father a load of pumpkins for pig feed.
Man: Do I hear Spencer singing? Your boy must be happy.
Spencer’s father: Yes, he is happy, clean, and obedient. He will become a mighty man in the Church.

A small Vietnamese woman struggles to lift a frozen turkey out of the supermarket freezer. Her husband examines it and with an ear-splitting grin turns to the two young American girls standing beside him. “Chicken?” he asks. The group bursts into giggles. The two girls try to explain in simplified English that this large fowl is not a super species of chicken but is a turkey.
The girls are from the Riverside Stake in Salt Lake City, Utah. As a stake service project, they are sponsoring a Vietnamese family. One of their tasks has been to introduce the family to an American supermarket. “Our first trip to the grocery store was definitely memorable,” said Laurie Sperry, Center First Ward. “We did a lot of laughing.”
The job of sponsoring a refugee family involved many of the young women. They helped in the search for a suitable place for the family to live, in gathering clothes and bedding, in enrolling the children in school, and in giving the small family a tour of the city. One of their stops was at Temple Square for a showing of “Man’s Search for Happiness” presented in Vietnamese. The girls introduced the children to some unique American celebrations such as Halloween, helping them with costumes and taking them trick-or-treating.
“Even though we couldn’t communicate in words,” said Laurie, “we could feel their gratitude.”
The girls of the Riverside Stake tasted the sweetness of service. And what started as a service project has turned into a caring, helping relationship between friends.

Hymn 114: Come unto Him
I kneel upon the grass and pray;
An answer comes without a voice.
It takes my burden all away
And makes my aching heart rejoice.

Recently Alvin received a special award for perfect attendance at seminary. Seminary for Manila’s LDS youth is usually held during afternoon or early evening, and during those hours Manila’s almost unbearable traffic is at its peak. But Alvin comes right on time.
“Alvin is not that hyperactive when it comes to class involvement,” Brother Nolan Caceres, his seminary teacher, remarks, “but when it comes to actual application of the lesson, he tries his best.”
His seminary example spills into other youth activities. The ward basketball team he plays on garnered second place in the sportsfest awards. And in activity nights at the meetinghouse? “He doesn’t fail us,” Brother Caceres answers. “He’ll be there.”

"What were you assigned to bring?” Melissa asked Clara as they walked to Sister Wilson’s house for their Achievement Day activity.
“Four cups of flour,” Clara answered. “How about you?”
“Some yeast.”
“I wonder what we’re doing today. Hannah is bringing flour, too. Sister Wilson has kept it such a secret.”
“I know,” Melissa agreed. “All she would say was that it’s going to affect many ward members this Sunday.”
Still talking about the mystery, the girls soon came to Sister Wilson’s house. Before Clara could knock, Sister Wilson opened the door and invited them in. Tina, Jenny, and Susan were already sitting on the couch. A tape of Primary songs was playing softly in the background. Just as Clara and Melissa sat down, Hannah arrived. Now all the girls were present, and the mystery project would soon be revealed.
Sister Wilson offered the opening prayer, asking that they might understand the importance of the great sacrifice Jesus Christ made for them. She also prayed that the food they would prepare might be blessed for the sake of all who would eat it.
After the prayer, they made their way to the kitchen with their assigned ingredients. A couple of bowls and a mixer waited on the counter.
“Let’s see,” Sister Wilson began, “who was assigned to bring the yeast?”
“I was.” Melissa stepped forward.
“Good. We’re going to put the yeast into some warm water and let it dissolve. Meanwhile, we’ll put some of the other ingredients into this larger bowl. Who has the flour, sugar, and salt?”
“I do,” Clara, Hannah, and Jenny answered together.
As the girls worked, they visited, laughing and giggling. Amidst the chatter, Clara asked, “What are we making, and how will it affect the ward members?”
“Does anyone have any idea?” Sister Wilson asked.
“Are we making cookies?” Susan asked.
Sister Wilson smiled. “No, we are making the bread that will be used for the sacrament.”
The giggling stopped suddenly, and the girls spoke almost in whispers as a quiet reverence filled the room. They weren’t making bread just to learn how, but for use in a sacred ordinance!
When the yeast was dissolved, Susan poured in the milk she had brought and Tina added her oil. Then the girls combined the liquid and dry ingredients and mixed them together. They took turns kneading the dough on a flour-dusted counter. When it was smooth, the dough was covered with a cloth and allowed to rise. Then it was punched down, divided in half, shaped into loaves, and placed in loaf pans. While the dough rose a second time, they went into the next room for a lesson on the sacrament.
“Can anyone tell me what the bread and water represent?” Sister Wilson asked.
“The flesh and blood of Jesus Christ,” Melissa answered.
“That is right. Shortly before His crucifixion, Jesus gathered His Apostles around Him in an upstairs room. He knew that He was going to die, and He wanted the Apostles to always remember Him so that they could be strong and faithful to His teachings. He blessed bread and broke it into pieces. He gave it to His disciples to eat in memory of His body. He blessed wine and gave it to them to drink in memory of His blood.
“When we partake of the sacrament, we renew the covenant we made when we were baptized. Can anyone tell me what we promised to do?”
“I know,” Clara said. “We promised to keep the commandments.”
“We promised to remember Jesus Christ,” Jenny added.
“Very good,” Sister Wilson said. “We also promised to take upon us the name of Jesus Christ. The way we act, the things we do, the words we say should let others know that we are followers of Christ. The Lord promised us that if we keep our covenant, we will always have His Spirit to be with us.
“Is there anything special we should do during the sacrament service?” Sister Wilson continued.
Hannah raised her hand. “My mom always tells us that we should be reverent.”
“She’s right. We should also be prayerful and think of the Atonement. We need to examine our lives, looking for ways to improve ourselves and become more like Christ. And we should think about the promises we are renewing.”
After more discussion about the sacrament, the lesson ended. By then the dough had risen again, and it was time to put the pans into the oven. While the bread baked, the girls planned upcoming activities.
When the loaves were taken from the oven, they were a golden brown. “After they cool, I’ll slice them. Then I’ll give them to Bishop Carmichael. He’ll make sure they are used on Sunday.”
On Sunday, as the girls sat with their families in sacrament meeting, they sang the sacrament hymn reverently. They listened carefully as a priest blessed the bread, and when they said “amen,” they really meant it. Then the deacons passed the bread. When Clara took a piece from the tray, she was suddenly filled with gratitude for all the Savior had done for her. She thought about the Last Supper and what Jesus had taught His disciples about the sacrament. She knew that there were things she could do better to show that she was trying to keep the commandments.
Clara glanced quickly at Melissa out of the corner of her eye. From the look on her friend’s face, she knew that the sacrament had touched her heart, too.
After the meeting, the girls stopped in the foyer to talk a moment before going home. “I’m glad Sister Wilson let us help make the sacrament bread,” Jenny said.
“I thought it made the sacrament extra special,” Tina added.
“It wasn’t just the bread that made it special for me,” Melissa replied thoughtfully. “It was really thinking about the sacrifice of Jesus Christ and what the sacrament means in my life.”
Clara smiled. “I felt the same way. It wasn’t the bread that made the difference. It was the Savior.”

While driving through a small town in Mexico, a man ran over and killed a dog that darted in front of him. From that day on, he was known in the village as mataperros. No consideration or thought was given to the origin of the name; he was simply the “dog killer.” For those who came along later, not knowing the circumstance, their minds conjured up a terrible image of what he had done.

The youngest son, Daniel, who returned last year from a mission in Argentina, describes his father as a loving teacher. “One night we had won a baseball game, and I didn’t get home until two in the morning. As I drove up and saw Dad waiting for me outside, I was really scared. I was thinking up all kinds of excuses. But instead of accusing me, he said, ‘I’m glad you’re home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’ I knew I had done wrong, but I also knew that he was concerned about me and wanted to help me.”

After church, Kirill’s mother welcomed their new American friends to their home. She played the piano and sang some Ukrainian songs. The adults ate breads, drank herbal tea, and chatted. Sister Wein from East Germany and Sister Norton translated for them. The two children ate bread and played.
Tanya’s and Kirill’s mothers were thrilled to be able to invite Americans into their homes and allow them to take photos without worrying about getting in trouble with the police. Under Communism, friendly visits with foreigners were not allowed.

In São Paulo and Salvador, Brazil, Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf ministered to large groups in meetings but also to small groups and individuals, including consoling the family of a recently deceased full-time missionary, attending two wards’ sacrament and Sunday School meetings, accompanying several companionships of missionaries as they visited part-member families, and being recognized by a recent convert while riding the São Paulo subway. He said that Brazil is a “place where the thought that we are all children of Heavenly Father is really visible and practiced.”

Eddie’s heart thumped with fear as the small group of Scouts huddled in the cold rain listening to instructions. They were told to fan out and search ravines, thickets, and the narrow creek for an elderly man who had wandered away from a nursing home early the day before.
Why do they call it a search party, Eddie wondered as he listened. A party is fun, but there’s nothing fun about this!
“The man is feeble and may have lost his coat and shoes by now,” the leader continued. “He could be lying somewhere too weak to call out for help. We’re working against time in such wet weather. That’s why we asked your troop to help. Let’s get started!”
The boys quickly fanned out as they had been told to do. At first they were careful to keep each other in sight, but as Eddie moved from side to side searching clumps of shrubs and waist-high weeds, he suddenly found himself alone.
Hiking a rugged trail with a group is fun, he thought as he struggled along, but this is hard work.
Sometimes there was a ditch on his right and a thicket on his left, and Eddie had to search both. With all the zigging and zagging, several holes had been snagged in his poncho, and his clothing felt wet and cold as it clung to his body. His pant legs were caked with mud, and each boot seemed to weigh five pounds.
Finally Eddie sat on a damp log to rest and clean his boots. At first he was just plain tired of the whole thing. Then he began to think about the old man who had been out in the storm for more than twenty-four hours. Suddenly Eddie was ashamed of thinking only about himself and hurrying to get the search over so he could go home where he would be warm and dry.
“I really didn’t look very carefully along the creek back there because of the thorns and mud,” he admitted to himself. Eddie shuddered at the thought that in his hurry he might not have seen the old man lying out in the storm.
Eddie shifted his pack, picked up a heavy stick to use as a staff, and started to backtrack along the slippery rocks that lined both sides of the narrow stream. His legs ached with fatigue as stones slipped and rolled under his muddy boots, but he was grateful for the support they gave his ankles. He wondered if the old man had good shoes or had left the home wearing only light slippers.
Now all the boy could think about was that someone was lost out in the storm. As he rounded a curve, there was a flash of red and his heart began to pound.
Racing on down the creek, he saw a man huddled under a rock ledge on the other side! Eddie’s first thought was to shout for help. But then he realized that, if startled, the man under the ledge might fall and be hurt or try to run away.
Suddenly Eddie remembered the owl hoot signals his troop had learned. Three hoots wouldn’t mean anything to the others, but they would bring one of the Scouts.
Climbing the slippery bank to the trail, Eddie backtracked a few hundred feet and signaled. There was no answer to the first two calls, but when his straining ears caught a faint answering “whoo” after the third call, he walked back to where he could watch the man and give low signals to guide the others to the spot.
The old man rolled over once. Then he sat up and listened to the owl calls.
Soon another mud-streaked Scout appeared in the ravine. Signaling him to remain silent, Eddie hurried down the slope as quietly as he could and explained that he had found the lost man.
“Hurry and bring help,” Eddie said, “but don’t start shouting for help until you’re far enough away so he won’t hear you. We’ll have to be careful not to scare him or he might try to run away.”
When he was alone again, Eddie crossed the creek and started toward the elderly man. Whistling and splashing along in the shallow water, he pretended to be surprised when he saw someone huddled on the overhanging ledge. “Hi!” he called. “Would you like to share my lunch?”
When Eddie took sandwiches and a thermos bottle out of his pack, he saw that hunger and eagerness replaced the fright in the faded blue eyes. But the old man remained silent as he reached out a trembling hand to accept the food and milk. Eddie took a blanket from his pack and draped it around the frail figure.
There was plenty of food, but Eddie had such a lump in his throat that he could hardly choke down even half of a sandwich. All he could think about was how he had almost gone on and left the poor old man.
“I went for a walk and got lost,” the man explained after he had finished eating. Then he pulled the blanket around himself like a tired child and fell asleep.
Almost before he knew it, Eddie was surrounded by other searchers who were eager to help. Soon the men in charge carried the old man away on a stretcher, and Eddie breathed a sigh of relief.
It was still storming and he was wet and cold and tired, but somehow Eddie felt so warm and good that it seemed almost as if the sun were shining!

My teacher asked me to come and talk about my church in school, and I brought in my scriptures. My class asked me questions about what I believe. Then I gave my teacher the Book of Mormon. She said she would read it.
Chloe D., age 11, Somerset, England

At the beginning of October 2020, I was texting a hearing Church member, Elaine Crawley, about some videos made by professors at Brigham Young University that support the Come, Follow Me curriculum. I asked Elaine about how she occupied her time. She told me of three regular virtual firesides that I didn’t know about, provided by Solihull Ward, Sunderland Stake, and Lichfield Stake.

My initial thought was, “Fantastic!” This could be the start of a connection between Church members, me and my family in lockdown. I began to worry if there would be no access to interpreters, or subtitles for deaf members like myself.

To my surprise, Bishop Hesekaia Fakatou from the Solihull Ward made it possible for me to have an interpreter on 11 October 2020 for the virtual fireside, with guest speaker Brother Tyler Griffin, with less than three hours’ notice, which is very unusual. In a work environment I would normally have to book an interpreter at least two to four weeks in advance. That was my first miracle.

When I finished primary school, my father taught me to make decisions for myself. I had to travel more than 150 km to reach the city center of Mweka in the Kasai province of DR Congo, where I started secondary school in humanitarian studies with priests of the Catholic diocese of Mweka.
Once I finished secondary school, I had to follow the Catholic faith to continue my humanitarian studies; hence from the fifth and sixth humanitarian year we were prepared to embrace the Catholic faith. After completing the humanitarian cycle, we had the privilege of preparing ourselves as aspirants with the Josephite fathers.
When starting my first year in philosophy, my older brother who was my tutor informed the priest that I should not continue as an aspirant among the Josephite fathers. Not accepting the opposition, the Josephite fathers, through my godfather, asked me to abandon the path of consecration in the Catholic Church for something else.
It was then that I moved to Kinshasa to commence my studies in law. Once I arrived in 2007, I enrolled at the University of Kinshasa. In my first year in 2008, we experienced a total strike at the University of Kinshasa. During the strike, I left the neighborhood where I lived to go to the commune of Masina to stay with my older brother.