Gospel Story Finder

Each night I do a special thing—
I kneel beside my bed
And talk to Heavenly Father,
Reverently bowing my head.
I say, “Thank you for my mom and dad
And for my brother, Mike.
Thank you for my many toys,
Including my favorite—my bike.
Thank you for my grandmas and grandpas
And for my friends, who care.”
It’s nice to talk to my Father in Heaven—
I know He’s always there.

While still a child, she joined the Presbyterian Church. Later, when two Mormon elders preached the gospel near her home, Jane immediately felt the Spirit of the Holy Ghost and asked to be baptized. Following her example, several members of her family were also baptized.

I was sick on the day of stake conference. I wanted to keep the Spirit with me, so I made a temple out of plastic blocks.

Tori felt like a brilliant scientist in a laboratory. Today her class was looking at cells with a microscope! She watched Mr. Koch place thin slices of onion onto slides. Tori really wanted to see a nucleus, the cell’s control center.
“Each lab group, send one person to get a slide for your microscope,” Mr. Koch said. “Please be careful. These slides are glass, so they’re fragile. If you break one, you’ll have to pay for it.”
Tori went up to Mr. Koch’s desk and picked up a thin slide in both hands. She walked back to her table, trying not to get smudges on it. In the center she could just barely see the sliver of onion, almost as clear as the glass.
Tori pushed the slide into the microscope’s clips and flipped the light switch. But the microscope stayed dark.
“Oops,” said her lab partner, Michael. “We forgot to plug it in.” He pulled the microscope over to an outlet.
But Michael bumped the slide, and it slipped right out of the clips and onto the floor. Crack! The slide cracked straight down the middle.
Michael grabbed the slide and set it back on the microscope like nothing had happened. He turned the light on and started adjusting the focus. Tori wasn’t sure what to do, so she just sat and looked at their assignment. Her excitement about seeing a nucleus was gone.
After a few minutes Michael whispered, “Tori, will you back me up and tell Mr. Koch our slide was cracked when we got it?”
Tori felt her chest get tight. Of course she knew that was the wrong thing to do, but she didn’t want Michael to get in trouble. She thought about what Jesus would do. Then she said, “I don’t think we should lie about that. But I’ll help you talk to Mr. Koch. It’ll be OK.”
Michael cleared his throat. “OK.” He looked back at the slide. “I don’t have enough money to pay for it, though. What should I do?”
“Just tell the truth,” said Tori. She didn’t feel nervous anymore. She knew they could do the right thing.
Michael took a deep breath and raised his hand. “I need to tell you something, Mr. Koch.” Tori gave Michael an encouraging smile as their teacher walked over.
“I accidentally knocked the slide onto the floor, and it cracked,” Michael said.
“May I see the slide?” Mr. Koch asked calmly. He looked at it closely and then said, “Michael, thank you for telling the truth. You don’t need to pay for it. Just try to be more careful next time.”
“Whew, thanks!” said Michael.
With a new slide, Tori and Michael looked at the onion cells. Tori found a perfect nucleus and drew it in her notebook. She was glad she’d made the right decision. And she’d helped Michael make a good decision too. What a relief.
As they packed up their equipment, Michael said, “Thanks for helping me tell the truth.”
Tori smiled. “Anytime.”

When I became too sick to continue my mission, I knew that God wanted me to go home, but that was the exact opposite of what I wanted. I was also distressed by the sudden loss of my health, which later proved to be the beginning of a chronic, disabling condition.
While adapting to my illness, I felt I had lost my purpose. I needed so much help and felt I had nothing to offer. But I knew I needed to continue exercising my faith, so I kept studying, praying, and trying to follow the Spirit. While studying the New Testament one day, I came upon a painting by James Tissot entitled Jesus Commands the Apostles to Rest. This depiction of Mark 6:30–31 immediately soothed me. As I saw Christ watching over His resting servants, I felt how much He loved them. And me.
Eventually, I learned that the expectations I had for myself were not the same expectations that God had for me. In some ways, His were more personally challenging, but they were much more attuned to my needs. I’m so grateful for the way He teaches me to more fully accept His help and His perfect love. His faith in me gives me the hope I need to keep going.
Sabrina Maxwell, Utah, USA

I have recently published a book called LDS Christians and Sikhs. This book was the result of an inspiration I received to invite Sikhs to come to Christ. I have included many testimonies from Sikhs who have converted to the Church. I hope that it will do some good in persuading and inviting Sikhs to examine their religion and to offer them further blessings through the gospel.

A wonderful example of this philosophy was shared by Arthur Gordon many years ago in a national magazine. He wrote:
“When I was around thirteen and my brother ten, Father had promised to take us to the circus. But at lunchtime there was a phone call; some urgent business required his attention downtown. We braced ourselves for disappointment. Then we heard him say [into the phone], ‘No, I won’t be down. It’ll have to wait.’
“When he came back to the table, Mother smiled. ‘The circus keeps coming back, you know.’
“ ‘I know,’ said Father. ‘But childhood doesn’t.’ ”

I remember, for example, attending a Gospel Doctrine class in one ward when they were studying the book of Revelation. Other than myself, not one woman commented during the whole lesson. The next week I attended the Family Relations class in the same ward. There was a great contrast. There the women spoke freely and frequently.

Let me just share with you a message that is very meaningful. It has to do with a brother who fell in love with a beautiful young lady, took her to the temple, was sealed to her for time and all eternity. And then he became careless, fell into serious transgression, and was excommunicated from the Church. A divorce followed. Later on, his former spouse applied for a cancellation of her temple sealing to him so that she could be sealed to another, and he was contacted to see if he consented to or objected to the cancellation. In reply, he wrote a longhand letter, of several pages, that began by saying:

“Yes, I do consent. Why? Because I want to see my former wife obtain the happiness that she’s entitled to.” For quite a few paragraphs he lauded the virtues of his former spouse. He then said, “Why did I do what I did to her and to our son? Only because I became careless, and listened to the voice of the tempter, and he took over.” He then said, “I do not feel I can ever be forgiven of what I have done to my wife and son.” He ended with the statement, “A brokenhearted man” and signed his name to it.

After college, I taught at Brigham Young University for a few years. Then I started my own business. In my business, it was important for me to know what was going on in the world, so I got in the habit of reading several newspapers. And I always started my day by reading them. Of course, I read my scriptures during the day too.
Recently, however, I began to read the scriptures before I read anything else. What joy and satisfaction has come from reading the scriptures first! It not only begins the day right, but throughout the day I’ll find myself using a scripture or scripture story I read that morning, especially as I talk about the gospel.

Josh’s interest was sparked in early 1996 when many of his fellow fifth-grade classmates were attending a school-sponsored ski school. Instead of skiing, the 10-year-old signed up for an alternative minicourse on genealogy offered by the school. Josh’s mother, Judy Taylor, initially was concerned that two hours of genealogy each week would be too long for her young son. But he soon was hooked and found himself wanting to stay longer and longer at the local family history center.
While his parents, who teach music at Ricks College, were touring with the college orchestra a few months later, Josh stayed with his grandparents for a few days in Logan, Utah. His grandparents, who were serving as family history missionaries, took him to the family history center, where he learned more about the computer programs used by genealogists.

I am grateful for the June New Era on leadership. It has helped me to magnify my calling as a leader of the youth of Zion. Our ward is not extremely large, and we are often called to positions of leadership. The June New Era was just what I needed to help me fulfill my responsibilities. I am grateful for Elder Boyd K. Packer’s talk “It’s the Position That Counts” and also for Rex W. Allred’s article on personal time management. I now keep a planner in my Book of Mormon and write down everything I need to do.
Susan P. GriffithsManchester, Lancaster, England

As the Sharing Socks were handed out to the refugees in the Philippines, Sister Margaret Collipriest of the Young Women General Board, seeing the poverty of the people, said to the interpreter, “It is a small gift but sent with love.” The chairman answered, “You say it is a small gift. For them it is a big gift.”

“Harriet and I recently returned from a wonderful ministry visit to Dubai. …
“… We attended a beautiful sacrament meeting in a rented hotel ballroom, worshipping God with other disciples of Jesus Christ from around the globe. Our hearts were filled with gratitude as we felt embraced by the members of the Church there. How wonderful it is to be part of a global church proclaiming and practicing the universal gospel of Jesus Christ.
“Whoever we are or wherever we may be, Jesus Christ is our strength. We can find peace in Him and unity with His faithful disciples whether we are in Utah or Dubai, London or Brazil. No matter where we are in the world, we are all united on the covenant path back home to our loving Father.”
Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Facebook, Mar. 16, 2023, facebook.com/dieterf.uchtdorf.

Illustrations by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
What are you doing in here all alone?
I’m feeling.
Feeling what?
Peace.
Later
Come on, guys. It’s time to go sing at the nursing home.
Let’s go later, Dad. Right now Mandy and I are feeling peace.
Peace is a gift from the Prince of Peace. Do you think He might want us to share?
At the nursing home
I felt such peace when you dear children were singing.
We hoped you would.

I love reading the Friend! I’m excited every time it comes in the mail. I like reading Matt and Mandy, and the stories make me happy.
My family was discussing how we could help my little sister be kinder. There was a lot of contention, and we wanted the Spirit in our home. I read an article called “Firecracker Charlie” (March 2013). It taught me that for her to be nice to us, we needed to be super kind to her. I’m grateful I can feel the Spirit while reading the Friend.

“God wants us to go back to church because not everyone has been able to take the sacrament in their homes. My grandpa told me that, as a priesthood holder, I should make sure that everyone has this opportunity. It is important for us to go to church so we can all renew our covenants.”
Esteban M., 16, Argentina

The ugly duckling thought he had no value until he discovered his true identity as a swan. Then he knew that he was infinitely valuable and loved.

During one special home evening, I studied my patriarchal blessing, seeking pertinent messages for today. Tears came to my eyes as I felt anew the love of my Heavenly Father. Once again, I was sincerely grateful for this personal revelation and direction. Shortly afterward, I planned a goal-setting evening. I sometimes get caught up in the objectives of those around me—goals that are not right for me. So during my home evening, I readjusted my course, taking into account my own eternal priorities.

As I came out of school, the sunlight reflected on the knee-deep snow. The air was icy cold, but all four of us guys jammed into the cab of Reed’s truck so the chill and the snow did not much matter to us. All we had to bother with was keeping the steam off the inside of the windows.
As we pulled out of the school parking lot, Wayne started cutting up, as usual, and Sid started cutting Wayne down, as usual, while Reed and I mainly listened. We passed the Chicken Inn, where even the snow couldn’t freeze out that frying smell, and turned up the hill to my house. Up ahead we could see a girl struggling over the ice. I mean really struggling. The hill wasn’t all that steep, but like I said, it was one icy day, and she sure looked funny. Her arms juggled a load of books, and her feet were slipping and sliding as if she were walking on a moving sidewalk. Her coat was pulled up around her ears. She looked like a turtle trying to decide whether to go in or come out of its shell.
“A definite specimen of a 1,” Sid laughed, and so did we.
“Who is she anyway?” Reed asked.
“Rachel Roberts,” I answered. “They moved into the ward a while back.”
“Trust Matt to know about the new girls,” Sid teased, and Wayne slugged me in the arm.
“Yeah. Lady’s man Bingham.” Wayne exaggerated each word and made his voice about two octaves higher.
“Cut it out,” I growled. “She’s my sister’s friend.”
“Sure!” Reed laughed.
“Look, she’s a 1,” I said. “A definite 1!” I grumbled a little to let them know I’d had enough.
“Think she’ll make it to the top of the hill?” Wayne asked.
“Bet you a chocolate shake she won’t,” Reed offered, but no one took up the bet.
As the old Ford pulled up alongside Rachel, Wayne called out, “Give her a scare. Fire it!”
“Yeah!” the others shouted. Without hesitation Reed turned the ignition off then on, and the muffler let out a bang that sounded like a Civil War cannon. Inside the cab, the roar of laughter was almost as loud as a cannon as we watched Rachel go into a balancing act. We jerked around and wiped at the back window while Reed shouted, “Tell me what’s happening, will ya? Did we scare her?”
“I’ll say!” Wayne shouted. “You should see the look on her face. Her eyes are as big as billiard balls!”
“Hey, she’s down,” Sid said. “Feet up, arms everywhere!”
“Books sliding all over the place!” Wayne was laughing so hard he could barely talk.
“What a klutz,” I added. But as I said it a sick sort of heaviness bit into my stomach. I tried to get it out of there by laughing harder, but it didn’t work. About then I realized my conscience was working.
It’s not like I really knew Rachel. She was only a sophomore and kind of a quiet nobody. What I mean is that she was not exactly the kind of girl you would look at twice. Now here I was laughing at her and at the same time feeling awful about laughing. But what was I supposed to do? Reed, Wayne, and Sid were almost hysterical.
The laughter died down, and I sensed an uneasiness in the small cab. Slowly I turned back around, all the while wondering if their stomachs felt like mine. “Maybe we ought to go back and see if she’s all right,” I said.
No one answered. Finally we pulled into my driveway. “Ah, she’ll be fine,” Wayne said. “It just scared her a little. See ya at basketball practice.”
I went into the house, and while I fixed a sandwich and poured a glass of milk, I figured it out. I hadn’t been the one to suggest it and I wasn’t the one who turned the key, so why should I be the one to worry about it? By the time I finished my fourth sandwich I’d forgotten the whole thing. Then with homework and basketball practice, even my conscience didn’t have much time to remember it. But about ten o’clock I was in the kitchen getting some cookies when I realized that my sister Jennifer and my mom were talking about Rachel.
“How’s she doing?” Mom asked.
“They’re not sure yet. She’s got a cast on it now, but they want to wait two weeks and see how it’s healing. Her mom says they may have to put a pin in to help it heal right.”
I swallowed one homemade chocolate chip—cookie—whole and felt it scratch all the way down.
“What happened?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t us, but somehow knowing it was.
“Some guys made a truck backfire next to her when she was coming up the hill after school. She slipped on the ice and broke her ankle.”
Suddenly I wasn’t hungry. It had been a joke. We hadn’t meant to hurt her. My stomach churned. I wished I hadn’t eaten any cookies at all.
You all right?” Jennifer asked.
“Sure,” I said, trying to get hold of myself. “I just swallowed wrong.”
“Those guys are probably still laughing about their joke,” she said, her face growing red and her eyes mad, “while Rachel’s over there hurting.”
I’m not laughing, I thought. But that didn’t help much.
All night long I tossed and turned and tossed some more. It was a joke. That’s all. We’re really not bad guys. Wayne was always pulling something, and we always joined in. But we’d never hurt anyone.
The next morning when Reed picked me up I guess I looked bad.
“Hey, what’s with you?” Wayne asked. “Terrie turn you down for the dance?”
“No!” I snapped.
I was the last one in and as we shoved together, everything got kind of quiet, a heavy kind of quiet. We got almost to school without breaking the silence. Then Sid spoke up, “Come on, Bingham. What’s wrong?”
I hesitated a minute and then told them the whole story. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but as I looked around I could see they felt about like I did.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” Reed said. “Just a little scare.”
“It wasn’t just you,” Wayne added, and Sid nodded.
We pulled into the school parking lot, and for the first time ever I was glad to be at school. Maybe concentrating on classes would keep my mind off Rachel and her ankle. But it didn’t work. All day long I kept seeing her face, crying, hurting, sitting alone at the bottom of that hill. Why hadn’t I made them go back?
Back at the truck after school I saw the others for the first time since that morning. I could tell just by looking that instead of leaving, the feeling had settled harder, colder. We climbed into the cab and started for home. We got all the way to my driveway before anyone spoke.
“Look, I don’t know about you guys, but I think we ought to do something,” I said.
“Like what?” Reed asked.
“I don’t know. Take her some flowers and candy or something. Apologize.”
“Flowers and candy? Those are for the girls you’re trying to impress. The 10s! Rachel is more of the ‘sweet spirit’ kind.” I knew Wayne was trying to make a joke, trying to lighten the heavy mood, but no one laughed.
“You think we ought to do that?” Reed asked. “I mean go to her house and everything?”
I wanted to say, “Nah, I’m just joking!” But I knew that wouldn’t work. I could see now that much as I didn’t want to face Rachel, let alone risk seeing her mom and dad, my conscience wasn’t going to take a time out unless I went.
“Well, I’m going tonight. If you guys want to come with me, be here at seven.” Then I got out and went into the house.
The next part was the hardest. I found Jennifer and before I had time to chicken out I told her the whole story.
“Matt Bingham!” she started to yell.
“Look, Jen,” I interrupted, holding her hands so she couldn’t hit me. “We didn’t mean to hurt her. We’re sorry, and now I need your help.”
She looked at me a minute as if trying to decide what to do, then wiggled her hands loose.
“Please, Jen?” I asked real nice.
“What is it you want me to do?”
“Just help me get the flowers and candy. I don’t know what kind she likes or anything, and I don’t want to go in there apologizing and find out she hates flowers and is allergic to chocolate.”
Jennifer laughed, and that made me mad. Then I realized I must be sounding a little weird. I smiled back. “Will you do it?”
“You know,” she said, “as far as brothers go, you’re not so bad.”
“Will you help?”
“I’d better,” she said. “In the first place Rachel doesn’t like candy.”
“See what I mean? What am I …”
“Hold on,” Jen interrupted. “If you’ll drive me, I’ll pick it all out for you. I know exactly what her favorite things are.”
Now that that was all set I felt a whole lot better. But I still worried that none of the other guys would show. I really didn’t want to go all alone, but I shouldn’t have worried. At seven o’clock all three showed up at the front door looking as nervous as I felt.
“Well, you ready?” Sid stammered.
“Yeah, just a minute.” I was afraid that if I waited even one second more I wouldn’t have the nerve to go through with it.
“Do we really need to do this?” Wayne asked.
“Yes!” I tried to sound real positive and found that just by saying it I somehow felt better. I grabbed the flowers and pepperoni pizza that Jennifer had picked out, and we left.
It was the third silent ride that day. Slowly we pulled up in front of the brown brick home and stopped the engine. No one moved.
“Well?” I finally asked.
“I think Matt ought to be the spokesman,” Sid said, “seeing as this is his idea and all.”
The others agreed, and I knew I was stuck.
“Come on then,” I said. “Let’s get it over with.”
From the truck to the front door was the longest walk I’d ever taken. Snow crunched under my feet. My breath formed heavy puffs of steam that hung in front of me. And my heart beat—I mean BEAT. Once on the porch I hesitated, then punched the icy doorbell, hoping that no one would answer it. Before I could turn and run, a woman opened the door, a startled look crossing her face as she saw the four of us standing there with a pizza box and flowers.
“Yes?” she finally said.
“Hello. I’m Matt Bingham, and we came to see Rachel.” The words spilled out like water over a dam.
I’m sure she recognized us from church, but she seemed puzzled.
“She’s probably never had a boy come over before,” Wayne whispered from behind me, and I could feel Sid and Reed giggling. I hoped Mrs. Roberts hadn’t heard.
“Come on in,” Mrs. Roberts said and opened the storm door. “Rachel is in the family room. Right this way.”
She started down the hall, and we followed.
“Rachel,” she said, as she turned into the room. “You have company.”
Rachel was lying on the couch reading a book, her left foot in a cast and propped up on two pillows. It hurt just to look at it.
“Hi,” she said shyly, not as surprised as I thought she’d be.
We stood awkwardly for a moment, no one saying anything. Finally Reed spoke up, “How’s it feeling?”
“It hurts, but it’s getting better,” she answered.
Her mother slipped out of the room and that made it easier.
“I guess you know we’re the ones who were in the truck,” I said, hoping to get it over with so we could leave.
“Yeah,” she said with no trace of anger or anything.
“Well, we want you to know we didn’t mean to hurt you. We feel bad, and we really hope you don’t have to have surgery or anything like that.”
“It was supposed to just be a joke,” Wayne added.
“Anyway, we feel bad about how it turned out, and we wanted to tell you we’re sorry. But I guess that doesn’t help your ankle much. But we are real sorry about it.” I knew I was repeating myself, but I couldn’t figure anything else to say and I felt stupid standing there not saying anything.
“It’s nice of you to admit it,” she said. “Most guys wouldn’t have bothered.”
There was another awkward pause. Then Sid gave me an elbow in the ribs and whispered, “The flowers!”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, embarrassed. “We brought you these.” I handed her the flowers and pizza.
“Daisies,” she smiled. “I love daisies. These are beautiful.”
She opened the box. “You’re kidding! Pepperoni pizza. That’s almost worth a broken ankle. Thanks!”
“It’s the kind you buy at a restaurant, then take home and cook,” I explained.
She breathed in a big whiff. “Smells fantastic.”
I’d never really seen her up close. As she smiled and laughed she didn’t really look as plain as I’d always thought she was. It’s not that she’d ever win a beauty contest or anything. But there was something about her that I’d never noticed before, a kind of extra something that I couldn’t explain.
“Pull those chairs over and sit down,” she invited.
“We’d really better be going,” Wayne said uneasily.
“But you haven’t even had a piece of pizza yet,” she said.
“Well, maybe we could stay for a minute,” Reed said and pulled over a chair.
Rachel called her mom back in and asked her to cook the pizza for us. We all got a chair and sat down around the couch. Before we knew it, we were laughing and talking as if we’d been friends for years. She talked easily, not like she was trying to impress us or anything, and she never once talked about movie stars or clothes. I’d never known it was so easy to talk to a girl before. She was reading A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court by Mark Twain, and she told us about the eclipse and all. Even Wayne thought it was one of the best jokes he’d ever heard of. Then Mrs. Roberts brought in the pizza and some hot chocolate and donuts, and we talked some more. Before I realized it, we had been there for two hours.
“Oh wow!” Sid suddenly noticed. “I told my dad I’d be home by nine-thirty. I’ve got to go.”
“Me too,” we all agreed as we pushed back the chairs and apologized one last time.
“Don’t worry. I know you didn’t mean for it to turn out like this,” Rachel said, then laughed. “Just don’t let it happen again!”
“We’ll check back and see how you’re doing,” I said.
“Thanks for the flowers and the pizza,” she called as her mother showed us to the door.
The ride home wasn’t silent. Wayne was his old self again, and we all laughed and joked.
“She’s not so bad after all,” Reed said.
“Not a 10 though,” Wayne said. “It’s got to be a 10 for me.”
I knew what Wayne meant. But maybe he was wrong. Rachel wasn’t a Miss America, but all the same there was something about her I couldn’t describe, a warmth or something, that made it so that when I was around her I didn’t seem to notice if she was a 1 or a 10. I’d never been around a girl like that before, unless maybe it was Jennifer. But I doubt sisters count.
I thought about it as I listened to the others joke around.
“What you really want, Wayne, is a 12. But they don’t make 12s anymore,” Reed said, and we laughed again.
Maybe what we need, I thought, though I didn’t say it aloud, is a new measuring system.
“Here we are,” Reed said, as he pulled into my driveway. “See you tomorrow.”
“Thanks for going with me,” I said. The others only nodded, but then they really didn’t need to say anything. I could feel it.
I hurried into the warm house and found Jennifer waiting.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“Fine,” I answered.
“She’s nice, isn’t she?” Jennifer asked.
“I guess so,” I said, and for the first time I didn’t think of nice as an adjective you used for a girl because you couldn’t think of any other word. “She’s okay,” I added, then hurried to my room before Jennifer could ask any more questions.