Gospel Story Finder

1834–1914
“God was with me.”
As a girl, she had a dream about missionaries teaching her family in Italy.
When she was a teenager, missionaries taught her family and baptized them.
One day when the missionaries were there, an angry mob came. Marie bravely held up her Bible and told them to leave. And they did!
She and her family sailed across the ocean and crossed the plains to be with the Saints.
Marie C. Guild autobiography, p. 15, Church History Library, Salt Lake City, Utah.

“Son, don’t do this,” his parents said. “You’re throwing your life away.”
Those aren’t the words most missionaries expect to hear—right at the airport—just as they are leaving to report to the missionary training center (MTC).
Elder Morris, from New Zealand, knows how much his parents love him. They’ve been there for him through thick and thin. They cheered him on in his rugby matches. They applauded his decision to attend law school. They raised him with love and with hope that he’d have a bright life ahead of him.
Their pleading words came from a place of love. To them, the idea of their precious son serving a two-year mission for his new faith seemed not only confusing, but also a threat to the goals he’d worked so hard to achieve.
You see, Elder Morris was a gifted athlete on his way to becoming a professional rugby player. In his schooling, things were just taking off in his legal career.
Oh, and he was thinking about getting married!
Elder Morris already had this conversation with them many times before. He responded in the only way he knew how. “I told them I loved them. I embraced them. And I shared my testimony that I knew this was what I needed to do.”
Then he bid them farewell and hopped on the airplane for the MTC in Provo, Utah, USA, to prepare for his mission to the Philippines.

My husband tells of an experience he had in medical school.
It is very difficult to get into medical school, and as you might guess, freshmen students are committed to work very hard. My husband said he still remembers going to his first examination at the University of Utah Medical School. The honor system was in place. As the professor passed out the examination and left the room, some classmates started to pull out little cheat papers from their pockets and from under their books. “My heart began to pound as I realized how difficult it is to compete with cheaters,” my husband says.
Then a tall, thin student stood up in the back of the room and said, “I left my home and put my wife and three little children in an upstairs apartment to go to medical school. I’ll turn in the first one of you who cheats and YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT!” They believed it. Those cheat papers disappeared as fast as they had appeared. That young man set a standard of hard work and cooperation instead of dishonesty. He cared more about character than popularity.
When I heard the name of J. Ballard Washburn to be sustained as a member of the Quorum of Seventy, I remembered he was that medical student. Whether or not J. B. had been called to be a general authority, I realized his name would have been known for good wherever he was. He had developed character!

When I was in Young Men, I embarked on a rigorous hike up the tallest mountain in Arizona: Humphreys Peak. Our goal was to use mirrors to signal light to other participants on other peaks once we’d reached the summit. This required us to haul the heavy mirrors in our backpacks, and it was a tiring climb.
I remember feeling pain and exhaustion from the load on my back, which seemed to get heavier with each step I took. I often contemplated turning back, wishing I could shed my backpack and finally find relief. But with encouragement from my dad and my quorum advisers, I kept going. When we finally reached the summit, it was so fulfilling to look out at the incredible view and take off our backpacks. But it was clear to me that I could not have made it to my destination on my own.
Contemplating this experience from my youth has helped me realize that everybody is climbing a mountain in mortality. We all have a metaphorical backpack on our shoulders, and within each of our backpacks is a load of burdens. Some of us may have lighter burdens, while others are carrying almost unbearable loads, but one thing is for certain: we can’t carry them and make it to our destination alone.
With help from my loved ones, I was able to carry the burden on my back and reach the top of Humphrey’s Peak. And I know that as we help those around us by seeking to understand and to lift, we will be able to share the Savior’s light and make each other’s burdens light. We need each other. And our joy will be full as we reach our heavenly destination alongside our fellow Christlike climbers.

As Vanessa has learned more and more, she has been able to help her younger sisters and brother learn. They have each progressed faster in their music because they’ve had the help of an older sister. In a family of performers, everything doesn’t go perfectly smooth. Practice time can get a little heated. Everyone has his own opinion about how things should be done. But all differences fade away on stage. They all get into the spirit of the performance and enjoy sharing what they do with appreciative audiences.

On a crisp fall morning, the dew on the grass was drying itself in the warmth and light of the rising sun as we watched our four-year-old grandson make his way to the soccer field with his teammates. As soon as the shrill opening whistle faded, little Freddie ran onto the field wildly, zigzagging his way across the grass. As he ran, he made exaggerated circles with his arms in the air, spiraling out of control. He even left the field of play once or twice, moving his head with a strange whirling motion.
Illustrations by Bill Mayer
Freddie’s collegiate-athlete parents watched him in dismay and were not amused. In fact, both were confused and frustrated. They knew they had taught their son to play by the rules, to focus, and to compete vigorously. And yet there he was in his own world, buzzing bee-like back and forth across the soccer field.
While Freddie’s parents talked with one another and discussed ways to understand and correct this clearly aberrant behavior, we grandparents watched carefully, trying to unravel the mystery of Freddie’s curious conduct. At halftime the whistle signaled that it was time for the teams to change goals and face the opposite direction. Without any coaching from his parents, when the match resumed, Freddie began to play, focusing intently on the soccer ball. Dribble, dribble, kick! Goal! Suddenly, the zigzagging, bee-boy was able to focus on his objective, follow the rules, and achieve success!
What could possibly explain the dramatic difference in Freddie’s behavior?
While marveling at Freddie’s transformation, we began to see the light. It all had to do with shadows and sunlight. When the match started, the sun was at Freddie’s back, so in the morning sunlight, his body cast a long shadow. As he watched his shadow, he was fascinated with his manipulation of its movement, and its distracting darkness drew his attention away from what he should have been doing.
In the second half of the game, when he changed direction and faced the sun, his shadow fell behind him. The sun and Freddie’s position eliminated his dark silhouette on the field before him, and he fixed his focus on his goal. Facing the light, Freddie was able to clearly center his attention on his objective. Without the distraction of his shadow, he remembered the rules and began to abide by them.

Emma F.: When I first moved here, I didn’t have very many LDS friends because there weren’t that many young women in our ward. I ended up making one friend at an LDS youth convention, and that made all the difference for me in coming to activities. And so she introduced me to her friends, and eventually I had LDS friends, which is helpful.

I was 24 years old when I first met Julio Martínez. At the time, I had great interest in meeting someone who could explain the purpose of life to me and help me understand why I felt such a void in my soul. Julio, age 87, was just such a person. He enjoyed extraordinary physical and mental health. He loved nature and was always in a wonderfully good humor. We spent many summer afternoons talking, and I came to admire him and his ideas. A philosopher who practiced what he taught, he became my mentor.
One day, two and a half years after we met, Julio told me he had been baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I was dismayed. How could a man as wise and experienced as he was make such a decision? I respected him, however, so I respected his choice. We continued to visit frequently, but I would turn the conversation to other matters whenever he began to talk about the Church.
In time I began to notice some changes in Julio. His eyes had a new glow, and he became kinder, less critical, and more humble. I didn’t understand what was prompting the changes, and I was afraid of losing the good friendship we already had. But still I remained unresponsive to his invitations to learn more about his church.
And so I ignored the Lord as He called to me. I believe He calls to each of us, often through other people, but we hear only if we have ears to hear—and only if we open our hearts. The Lord called to me several times, but my heart was closed.
Then on 20 August 1998, at Julio’s urging, I met with some of the Lord’s missionaries, Elders Martínez, Boyle, and Winward. For the first time, I recognized the voice that had been calling to me. The Spirit bore such witness that my heart was softened and I was humbled. With tears flowing down my cheeks, I asked myself over and over, How is it possible for the Savior to love us so deeply? How did He come to do what He did for us, for me?
Nine days later I was baptized. Thanks to Julio, my friend, I now know the love Jesus Christ has for us and the fellowship that is found in His Church. Julio became like a grandfather to me, and I rejoice to know that because of our Lord’s grace I found His eternal truth.

I grew up in a small town in Canada. When I was 13, my father lost his job and our family relocated to Edmonton in order to survive. A few months after we moved to the city, my mother and father had a violent argument, resulting in my mother being hospitalized for six months. After a time, she allowed my father back into our household. This devastated me, and I turned to alcohol and drugs to escape the anger welling up inside.
At precisely this time, the missionaries found me. As I met families in the local ward, I was impressed with the respect the spouses had for one another and the affection parents showed their children. At age 16 I was baptized.

Recently my granddaughter Jennifer was invited to go with several of her school friends to a dinner and a movie. The girls all agreed on the movie they were going to see, and Jennifer was comfortable attending. However, the girl who left dinner to buy the movie tickets for the group returned with tickets to a different movie than was planned! She said, “It is a great show, and it’s R-rated.”

Jennifer, caught by surprise, couldn’t believe the situation had changed so quickly. But fortunately she had made up her mind before she ever found herself in this position that she would not watch R-rated movies. She was able to stand firm and say to her friends, “I can’t go see an R-rated movie. My parents would not approve.” To which the girls replied, “Oh, come on! Your parents will never know!” Confronted with this, Jennifer went on to say, “Well, actually it doesn’t matter whether my parents will know. I just don’t go to R-rated movies!”

Her friends were upset and tried to get her to relent. They told her she was ruining everything. When she would not give in, they threw the ticket and change in her face and deserted her for the R-rated movie. It wound up being a lonely night full of rejection from her friends. But it was a great moment for Jennifer and our family. She gained confidence, self-worth, and spiritual power.

The File on Cindy
Cindy was a bright, hyperactive girl of fourteen who began, on occasion, to be quite emotional. It became increasingly hard for her to make and keep friends. She had a hard time getting along with others in school. She became unfriendly and hostile toward her parents. She started avoiding people and worried at great length about little day-to-day situations. She said she wanted to get out of the rat race. Her parents were fearful that she was experimenting with drugs.
The cases of Jerry and Cindy are true. They don’t know each other, but they do have something in common: Both of them are young Latter-day Saints who were having troubles. But today they are secure about themselves. Jerry has found new confidence in himself, which makes him feel good about his home life and school activities. He is planning on a mission. Cindy has developed a warm relationship with her family and even enjoys talking to her parents. In fact, she has helped some of her friends with their problems.
There is one other thing that Jerry and Cindy have in common. Both were helped tremendously in overcoming their problems by meeting with their bishops, who in turn through the stake president brought into the setting some professionals from the Church’s Social Services Department.

Later, when I was offered work at a television station, I worried about temptations associated with the entertainment industry. But the answer to my prayers was, “Accept the job and show you can be an artist without compromising your standards.”
I have worked as a television artistic production assistant, as an assistant choral director for the Symphonic Choir of Guayaquil, and on the board of the Ecuadoran House of Culture for the province of Guayas.
I testify that it is possible to fulfill our dreams without sacrificing our principles. Today my name is recognized in my country and in my profession—thanks to my commitment to live the gospel and develop the gifts Heavenly Father has given me.

Michael DeLoach of Hollister, Florida, won top honors nationally in team roping. He and his partner, Andy Mills, placed first in their event at the National High School Rodeo Finals held in Rapid City, South Dakota. They also helped the Florida contingent to outscore the two-time defending champs from Texas. This was the first time that a high school rodeo team east of the Mississippi had claimed overall top honors.

Recently I was speaking with a friend concerning a mutual acquaintance, a man looked upon as highly successful in his vocation. “But what of his activity in the Church?” I asked. To this my friend responded, “He knows in his heart that it is true, but he is afraid of it. He is fearful that if he were to acknowledge his Church membership and live its standards, he would be cut off from the social circle in which he moves.”

I reflected, “Like Peter who denied his own sure knowledge, the day will come, though possibly not until old age, when in hours of quiet reflection this man will know that he traded his birthright for a mess of pottage (Gen. 25:34). And there will be remorse and sorrow and tears, for he will come to see that he not only denied the Lord in his own life, but also in effect denied him before his children, who have grown up without a faith to cling to.”

“Welcome to Podunk, USA,” I thought glumly as I sat on my back porch. It was a warm day for February, but I wasn’t enjoying it. I was too distracted by the sight of the cows 50 feet away.
My parents had moved, with my three sisters and me, to Jefferson City, Missouri. My eyes filled with tears as I thought of the distance that now separated me from the comfort of my friends and my old life.
Just the day before we had gone over to the high school to meet with my counselor. She smiled sympathetically and informed me that I was too late for cheerleading tryouts and that my new school didn’t even have a show choir. Those two activities meant the world to me, and the thought of not being able to do them made me want to walk the 1,000 miles back to Maryland.
“How will anyone get to know the real me?” I thought . I wouldn’t be the same person now that I wasn’t going to be on the sidelines at the games or singing with my friends in the choir.
“I am officially a nobody from nowhere,” I concluded.
I stared blankly at the scriptures on my lap, hoping for some peace from my depressing thoughts. As I flipped through the pages, my eye landed on a scripture I had highlighted: “The Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7).
I realized that when Heavenly Father sees me cheering for the team or singing on the stage, that is just part of my outward appearance. Those activities don’t determine who I am. He sees the real me, His daughter, someone who is trying hard to make the right choices and be a good example for her sisters.
The next day when I started at my new school, I walked confidently through the crowded halls. I realized that the Lord knows my heart and that I’m never alone.

I felt a similar sweet assurance the day I entered the temple to receive my endowment. While I was being escorted into the area for the initiatory ordinance, my heart (as well as the surroundings) was very calm and quiet. Each part of the ordinance reminded me how very individual my salvation is and how Christ’s tender love for us is shown one by one. It motivated me to ponder on the significance of my covenants.
Since that day, I have held fast to the strength I gain from an ongoing desire to keep my promises to Him, and I especially hold to His promises to me in return.
For instance, some specific promised blessings in the initiatory ordinance related to marriage have not yet unfolded for me. I know it can be natural at times to struggle with a limited mortal view, but I completely believe that the Lord sees all things as present before Him now2—even those desires we yearn to receive in the future.

I once read an article by a poorly informed newspaper reporter who explained that the way we perform baptisms for the dead is to immerse rolls of microfilm in water. Then all those whose names appear on the microfilm are considered baptized. That approach would be efficient, but it ignores the infinite worth of each soul and the critical importance of a personal covenant with God.

Subject: Dan
Age: 16 years
Event: Football practice
“Report to my office when you’re dressed,” the coach growled to Dan in the locker room after the practice.
A short time later, Dan sheepishly stood in front of the coach’s desk.
“I’m dropping you from the team,” the coach rasped.
“Why? I take good care of my uniform. I keep all the training rules. Why drop me?”
“Because you can’t play football!” the coach said harshly.__________

Thank you so much for the special missionary issue (June 1989). Today a very close friend left for the MTC. We had grown up together, and it was very hard to see him go. For the past couple of weeks I have been pondering why we must send out missionaries, and it seemed like missions were less important than friendships. The pain of saying good-bye didn’t seem worth it. I had always known that going on a mission is the only thing to do, but when it came down to my friend leaving, I wasn’t so sure. Today, after he left, I picked up the missionary issue and read the wonderful stories and articles. It was then that I realized the divine importance of missionary work, a work of a loving Heavenly Father who is gathering his children. I feel so much better about my friend and his choice. Thank you again for the June issue. It reached me when nothing else could.
Carrie JacobsSalt Lake City, Utah

I am a teacher at a private, not-for-profit juvenile detention facility which serves young men of all races and creeds ages 16–18. I have Mormonad posters hanging all over the walls of my room, and I keep copies of the New Era for inmates’ use during free reading time. The only complaint I get from other staff members about the Mormonad posters is their overall lack of ethnic variety. The only poster in the new Set C that is ethnically representative is the “Family Photo” (July 1992) Mormonad. I find the message of most of the posters applicable to all youth—even those not of our faith. Since the Church is expanding to all corners of the earth, wouldn’t these messages be more effectively communicated if all races were given equal representation? I hope to be able to continue to use these posters, but feel that many of my young men would be more willing to accept a message coming from a face they can relate to.
Joan KleinmanOracle, Arizona