Gospel Story Finder

Bodyboarding has been my greatest passion since I discovered it. It is my outlet, my decompression. From the outset, I always wanted to excel in it.
To get to the highest level, I practiced tirelessly, surfing all day whenever possible. I focused on my goal to become the best drop-knee rider in Tahiti. I won the title two or three times in that category at the Tahiti Taapuna Master surfing tournament as well as at other tournaments.
When I started, the competitions gave me a thrill, and I wanted to show everyone how good I was. Soon, I started getting offers from local and overseas sponsors.
Tournament finals are always held on Sunday, and I often had arguments with my wife about competing on the Lord’s day. She was right. Surfing was taking over too much of my life, but I didn’t want to lose my sponsors. Sponsors allowed me access to top-end, professional surfing equipment, which is expensive. I had to make a choice.
My wife and children motivate me to be an example of faith. They help me determine what I want to become. And of course, my personal faith, the upbringing I received from my parents and leaders, the example of others who have made sacrifices to honor the Sabbath, and the impressions I received from the Spirit also helped me to make my decision. I decided to give priority to my responsibilities as a husband, father, and member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
When I decided to devote myself entirely to the Lord on Sunday, I explained to my sponsors why I no longer surf in the finals on Sunday. I told them that my spiritual and family life takes precedence.
They supported me in my choice. In return, out of respect for Sunday, they asked me to do photo shoots and surf videos on other days of the week. My friends in the circuit also know and respect my religious beliefs and often ask me to pray for them.
I’ve qualified for the finals of the Taapuna Master every year since I turned pro, but I stopped competing on Sunday after winning the title in 2006. I still compete, but now, when they call my name for the finals on Sunday, everyone knows I won’t be there.

My scripture study would have to wait. All three of our sons had awakened—and much earlier than usual. The youngest, Caden, then 18 months old, was screaming in his crib. I went into his room and saw instantly that he was sick.
Thus began a Monday of one challenge after another. At one point, shortly after I had changed Caden’s clothes and tried to feed him, he flung a large jar onto the floor, spilling applesauce everywhere and sending shattered glass across the kitchen. As I was cleaning up the mess, I thought about all the things I wasn’t getting done: family history, service, home storage, missionary work.
“How in the world can I do everything I know I should be doing when I am barely managing the basic tasks of my day?” I wondered. By early evening I was exhausted, but I set aside discouraging thoughts during dinner, family home evening, and the boys’ bath and bedtime routine.
Finally, with the children in bed, I sat down to do what I had not had time for earlier. I picked up the May 2006 Ensign, which was open to a talk by President Henry B. Eyring titled “As a Child.” My eyes fell on a passage I had previously marked: “To keep the blessing of [changed natures] in our hearts will require determination, effort, and faith. King Benjamin taught at least some of what that will require. He said that to retain a remission of our sins from day to day we must feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick, and help people spiritually and temporally” (Liahona and Ensign, May 2006, 17).
Immediately, I again felt that I wasn’t living the gospel fully. I wondered, “How can I feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick, and help people spiritually and temporally when I can scarcely take care of my own family?”
That’s when I experienced an overwhelming feeling of divine approval. It was so clear, precise, and tangible that I knew I had to write it down so I wouldn’t forget. I could see my day replay in my mind—full of feeding the hungry, doing laundry to clothe the naked (I changed Caden’s outfit multiple times), gently caring for our sick baby, helping our five-year-old prepare a family home evening lesson on missionary work, and then discussing the power of example with my family—in other words, helping people spiritually and temporally.
The impression flowed with such an overpowering feeling of peace that I knew the Lord was telling me He had accepted my offering. In caring for my family, I was fulfilling the admonitions of King Benjamin and President Eyring.

From that day to this, millions of faith-filled sons and daughters of Heavenly Father have followed the promptings of the Holy Ghost and entered the sacred waters of baptism. One such man was Solomon Chamberlain.
Solomon was a spiritual man and had spent many hours in prayer, seeking for the remission of his sins and pleading with Heavenly Father to lead him to the truth. Sometime around 1816, Solomon was promised in a vision that he would live to see the day when the Church of Christ would be organized after the apostolic order was established once again on the earth.
Years later Solomon was traveling by boat toward Canada when his vessel stopped in the small town of Palmyra, New York. There he felt a compelling force urging him to disembark. Not knowing why he was there, he began speaking with the townspeople. It wasn’t long before he heard talk of a “gold Bible.” He said those two words sent “a power like electricity [that] went from the top of my head to the end of my toes.”
His inquiries led him to the Smith home, where he spoke with those present about the wonderful news of the restored gospel. After spending two days there and receiving a testimony of the truth, Solomon resumed his journey to Canada, taking with him 64 newly printed, unbound pages of the Book of Mormon. Everywhere he went, he taught the people, “both high and low, rich and poor, … to prepare for the great work of God that was now about to come forth.”2

Three-year-old Elizabeth watched as her mother arranged the ceramic nativity set on the low table in front of the sofa. Her mother had made the set many years earlier. Each year she told the children that she had painted each figure. Then she reminded everyone to be very careful because the figures could be easily broken.
Elizabeth loved to look at the figures, especially that of the baby Jesus. One day, she picked it up and held it reverently.
Mother walked into the living room at that moment. “Elizabeth, those pieces are breakable,” she gently reminded her.
Elizabeth carefully replaced the figure. “I know, Mommy.”
Each day, Elizabeth was drawn to the nativity set. She frowned when she noticed that the camel couldn’t see the Christ child. She moved the camel closer to the manger. Then she saw that the Wise Men, shepherds, and other animals couldn’t see Jesus either. She set the manger in the center of the table with all the others surrounding it.
She smiled. That looked much better.
When Mother saw what Elizabeth had done, she explained again how special the nativity set was and then replaced the figures in their original places.
The next day, Elizabeth stared at the nativity set. Once again, she set the baby Jesus in the center with Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, Wise Men, and animals looking on.
When Mother walked into the room and saw the nativity set, she wasn’t happy. “Elizabeth, I told you—”
“Don’t you see, Mommy?” Elizabeth asked. “Everyone wants to see the baby Jesus.”
Tears rolled down Mother’s cheeks. “I see, Elizabeth. I finally understand.” She kissed the top of Elizabeth’s head. “We’ll leave it just as it is.”
In the years that followed, the nativity set was always grouped as Elizabeth had arranged it. Jesus was in the center, where everyone could see Him.

The Kindness Foundation, Moscow, Russia:
“Your aid was very timely and was distributed in Ivanovo and the surrounding area. Many families wished they could personally see you and express their thanksgiving to you. The children who received the beautiful clothing wanted to get to know the children who donated the clothing to them and become their friends.”

My best friend invited me to his birthday party on Sunday, but I told him that I don’t go to birthday parties on Sundays because it’s our family day. We want to keep the Sabbath day holy. I was disappointed and sad to miss his party, but then his mom asked if I could come on Saturday instead. She changed the birthday party to Saturday so I could go. I was glad to be a good example.

I lost my father during World War II, when I was four years old. I learned how to work because my father was not there and my mother gave us children assignments. I helped cook dinner for my family because Mother had to work. My older sister and brother had part-time jobs to help the family, and when I got older, I did too. I worked on a farm and with a fishing business.

“We have an exchange student near Cologne, Germany, who just sent in her last two workbooks. She’s not been able to go to any Super Saturdays because of a nonmember family situation, but she’s done all of her class work, and she’s really strengthened herself by doing it. She has borne her testimony to me a number of times through the work she is doing and through statements in her books.” (Wherever possible, an adult in the same ward is assigned to work with the seminary student in correcting workbooks and analyzing reading materials. Once in a while, though, it’s necessary for a student to mail in completed booklets.)

The General Authorities of the Church, for whom I am most grateful, are true heroes for me. I had been a member of the Church for just one week when I met my first General Authority, Elder Royden G. Derrick, a member of the Seventy. I shall never forget the challenge he presented to the members of the Church to be exemplary in all aspects of our lives.

When I was a child, my parents sang in our ward choir. Mother especially loved to sing at Christmastime. Every Christmas Eve our family reenacted the Nativity story and sang Christmas songs. We always finished with mother’s favorite, “Silent Night.”
In her early 60s, my mother developed asthma. Years of coughing and struggling with the illness eventually ravaged her voice. She also lost hearing in one ear and suffered diminished hearing in the other ear. She still attempted to sing but often just read and thought about a song’s lyrics.
One Sunday while I visited my parents during the Christmas season, we attended sacrament meeting. The program centered on the birth and mission of Jesus Christ.
“I won’t have asthma in the hereafter, will I?” my mother asked me before the meeting started.
“Of course not,” I replied.
Then we talked about other physical ailments she would no longer have after the Resurrection.
“I’ll be able to sing again,” she said.
“With the choirs of heaven,” I added.
As we sang the opening hymn, “Away in a Manger,” Mother could not hear the piano accompaniment. She started singing the Primary version of the song instead of the Hymns version, which has a different melody. I tried to correct her, but she had difficulty hearing me. During the sacrament hymn, she continued to struggle. She really wanted to sing, but her pitch was all over the place.
As the sacrament meeting progressed, I felt the warmth of the Spirit and the sweet innocence of the children who bore their testimonies of the Savior in song. Then, as the congregation began to sing the closing song, “Silent Night,” so did my mother.
Listening to her struggle, I wished with all my heart that she could again sing Christmas songs the way she used to. As she sang, however, I felt the quiet warmth of the Spirit speak to my mind and heart: “Her offering is acceptable to me.”
At that moment, my mother’s voice took on a new beauty, blessed and sanctified by a loving Savior who looked on her heart. And, as He did when the widow cast in two mites (see Luke 21:1–4), He rejoiced in her sincerity and offering.

“Going back inside is my favorite outdoor activity.”
These were words I lived by for a long time.
I’m one of those people who grew up dreading camping and avoiding it at all costs. I was often described as “too dainty” when I would try to help my dad weed the garden because I would become more preoccupied with preventing dirt from touching my skin and being grossed out by the worms and bugs. All in all, I was a homebody who just didn’t care to spend much time in nature or appreciate it. I didn’t see the appeal when I had everything I needed inside!
But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve had a bit of a paradigm shift when it comes to nature and all it has to offer. I take long walks, I ride my bike, I actually stop and smell the roses, and sometimes I even scale mountains (my younger self would have a heart attack if she knew I did this for fun these days).
But most of all, I find that when I open up the scriptures or offer a prayer while I’m enjoying nature, I feel a strong sense of reverence and a profound spiritual connection to Heavenly Father, the Creator of this beautiful world.
I’m grateful for the spiritual places we can go to get away from the busyness of life, like the temple or even a quiet room in our homes. I have also found that being in nature and its peacefulness has helped me connect with Heavenly Father.
I’m still not the biggest fan of dirt or mosquitoes, but feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin, smelling the scent of fresh rainfall, or hearing the sound of a babbling creek have allowed me to quiet my soul and prepare my heart to connect with heaven.
Nature now acts as a sort of personal sacred space for me, and I learn so many spiritual truths from spending time in it. Even the simplicity of changing seasons reminds me that through a dark, bitterly cold season, flowers will always bloom again. And the fact that an oyster can create a pearl out of a tiny grain of sand shows me how much potential I have as well. After a long day spent with my smartphone and having thousands of media stories coming at me from every angle, retreating to nature to connect with my Heavenly Father, even for a few moments, resets and revitalizes my worn-out soul.
There is something about being in the quiet outdoors that grounds me and helps me remember the significance of my life (and all life) on the earth. Nature reminds me that if God had time to craft that single blade of grass beneath my feet, the details of a butterfly’s wings, and the tiny gnats buzzing around my head, then He must have taken extra care to thoughtfully create me and each of His children too. Witnessing the beauty of the natural earth and all its intricate details is a great reminder of who I truly am.
Seeing and truly pondering my Heavenly Father’s creations reignites my faith that He is real and that He is always with me. These creations are also evidence of His limitless power—if He can make something as vast as a mountain range or an ocean, then He has the power to help me face my challenges too.
When I take time to set aside the things of the world and appreciate His creations, I find it easier to feel His Spirit and the strength, guidance, and peace He offers. That’s when I can truly see His hand in the beautiful, intricate details in my life and in all things—yes, even bugs.

Several years ago, when I was a Primary teacher, our ward Primary planned an outing to see the Salt Lake Temple. Everyone was excited about the chance to be near the temple and to talk about it together.
We had planned our outing for the first Saturday in May, but that day a major snowstorm hit the city. The question in everybody’s mind was “Are we still going to go?”
The snow was falling as we gathered at the ward. The Primary president said to us, “I know you’ve all been concerned, but I’ve prayed about it and I’ve been impressed that we should still go.”
We climbed into the cars, and by the time we got to the temple and unloaded everyone, the snowstorm had stopped and the sun was out. The Lord had known that all these children were coming to see His temple. We were able to walk around the beautiful temple and have a wonderful time. How special it was—and is—to know that Heavenly Father hears and answers our prayers, and watches over His children everywhere!

Elder D. Todd Christofferson explained what he learned from a personal trial: “Though I suffered then, as I look back now, I am grateful that there was not a quick solution to my problem. The fact that I was forced to turn to God for help almost daily over an extended period of years taught me truly how to pray and get answers to prayer and taught me in a very practical way to have faith in God. I came to know my Savior and my Heavenly Father in a way and to a degree that might not have happened otherwise or that might have taken me much longer to achieve. … I learned to trust in the Lord with all my heart. I learned to walk with Him day by day.”25

When I served as a mission president, I reminded the missionaries of this principle often, since many people dressed immodestly. “Look at the eyes,” I told the missionaries. “See the person. Don’t just see a body. See a child of God.”

There is nothing my toddler loves more than trying on my clothes. I’ll often find her rifling through my drawers, stumbling about in high heels, or tripping over dresses that are much too long for her tiny legs.
Recently, she added a new accessory to her wardrobe—my bright blue scripture case. She sauntered into the living room with it dangling from her shoulder, clearly struggling a bit with its weight. As I applauded her entrance and asked her to spin around, I realised that this was the first time I had seen my scriptures in months.
I’d received my own set of scriptures on my eighth birthday, and I had treated them with utmost respect. By that, I mean I had completely dogeared them and filled the margins with notes (and a few drawings—even I’ll admit that’s too far). They were well used, wrinkled and bashed about from years of enthusiastic study. Over time, my studies transitioned over to my phone and the gospel library app. As much as I preferred flipping through the actual pages of a book, convenience won, and my beloved quad began to gather dust.

When I was 14 years old, on a beautiful August morning, Elder Prina and Elder Perkins knocked at our door. They began teaching our family about the true nature of God. In the visits that followed, they taught us how to pray. They also taught us about the Restoration and the plan of salvation. After the third or fourth visit, most of my family stopped listening to the missionaries, except for my 17-year-old sister, Dina, and me. We both felt the witness of the Holy Ghost in our hearts and received the spiritual confirmation that the message was true.
We bought a copy of the Book of Mormon and began reading it. Every day after school, we would race home to get to the book first. While the first one home was reading, the other one impatiently waited until mealtime, ate in a hurry, and then took her turn reading until bedtime. Such was the excitement we felt. We started attending church, and soon we asked to be baptized. Our father readily gave his permission, but our mother was hesitant, and it took one more month to persuade her to sign the permission slip. On the day of our baptism, she and the rest of our siblings went to church for the first time. She felt the Spirit. After hearing our testimonies, she went to the missionaries and asked them to start teaching her again. A few weeks later, Mother and our younger sister and brothers were baptized. My life changed forever, and the gospel of Jesus Christ became the compelling force in my life.

I’m grateful that our youth leaders planned a visit to the temple. As we were preparing for this trip to Apia, Samoa, we were happy for this rare opportunity. We joyfully went into the temple to do baptisms for the dead—for those who are in the spirit world waiting for us to find our family history and do work for them.
During baptisms, I saw a young man in our group baptized for Faataga Agavale, my grandfather. I felt tears of joy in my eyes, and I knew his spirit was there. I was very happy we were able to do work for him in the temple.
Saini Agavale, Samoa

I’m going to tell you about the time I was chosen to be on the Belchertown, Massachusetts, all-star basketball team. Basketball season had just ended, and my team had been fantastic! We’d lost only one game and won ten! The best players among all the teams were chosen for the all-star team by the recreational department.
When I was told that they wanted me to be an all-star, I was so excited that I couldn’t believe it! Then they said that most of the games were on Sundays but were scheduled for the afternoons so that people could go to church in the mornings.
My parents said that I could make the decision whether or not to be on the all-star team, but they reminded me of our family goal to follow the prophet. I knew that President Hinckley would expect me to make the right decision and keep the Sabbath Day holy. I called the recreation department and thanked them for asking me to be on the all-star team, then told them that I wasn’t going to play on Sundays because of my religious beliefs.
I really wanted to be on the all-star team and was so disappointed that the games were on Sunday. But I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are happy with me, and I know that I did make the right choice.

My family and I made the Christmas crackers from the November 2014 Friend and filled them with our Halloween candy. Then we took them to a nursing home and gave them to the people who live there. I felt happy and warm inside.

Soon the corn was growing in straight green rows. We’d weeded out the suckers and weaker plants, leaving only the sturdiest stalks. Papa pulled three white crayons from his pocket and handed one each to Caroline, Ed, and me.
“I want you to draw a line around the bottom of each cornstalk, so the ants don’t crawl up. They won’t cross that line,” he said and showed us what he meant.
“Will the ants hurt the corn?” I wanted to know.
“No, but the aphids will, and where there are ants there are aphids.”
“Why?”
“The ants milk the aphids like we do cows. They need each other.”
“Do we have to do all the corn?” Ed asked.
“Every plant,” Papa said. “If you each do ten rows a day, it will soon be done. That will help keep the worms out too.”
“Ten rows?” Ed complained. “That’s impossible.”
“OK, eight then,” Papa compromised. “Now get to work.”