Gospel Story Finder

Peter had always heard in Primary and read in the scriptures that prophets feel a great love for Heavenly Father’s children. One hot summer day, he discovered for himself that it was true.
Peter and his family, who lived in Iowa, were spending the summer of 1999 in Salt Lake City, Utah, at the condominium of their grandparents, who were away serving a mission. On the afternoon of August 11, Peter and his sister, Robbin, stood on the balcony, looking across at the Church Office Building and the valley beyond.
As they watched, a huge windstorm engulfed the Delta Center (a downtown sports arena) in a towering gray-black cloud. They could hear angry pops as power transformers exploded and hail rattled down. Electrical wires snapped, sparking and wriggling like brilliant glowing snakes.
“Mom!” Peter called. “Come quickly! The Delta Center is coming apart!”
His mother appeared at the window, and they all watched as giant pieces of the Delta Center roof spiraled into the air. The day had turned nearly as dark as night as the swirling storm sucked up dirt and debris, growing ever larger. Something felt familiar about the spinning, funnel-shaped cloud that came churning straight toward them.
“That’s a tornado!” Peter’s mother exclaimed. “Quick, come inside away from those windows!”
Peter grabbed his sister’s hand, and they rushed inside. The condominium was on the corner of the building’s top floor, and the room where they stood had two walls of glass. Peter knew from tornado drills at school that flying glass could be deadly. They had to get out of there, but where could they go?
A deep rumbling shook the building, growing louder every second. The wind howled. Dirt, rocks, bits of cement and wood, and who-knew-what-else pelted the windows like fierce rain.
Could they make it to the hallway? What if the glass shattered first? “The bathroom!” Mother and Peter shouted at the same moment.
Grabbing each other’s hands, the three rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door. They clung together near the bathtub, waiting and listening. The wind’s shrieking grew so loud that it hurt their ears. There was a loud bang, and the electricity went out. The walls and floors trembled. It sounded as if a jet plane was trying to land on their heads. Peter wondered if the roof might be sucked off. He closed his eyes and prayed silently. In the darkness, noise filled the room, their ears, and their minds.
Suddenly it was gone. The winds died. The banging stopped. Peter breathed a huge sigh of relief and tried to stop trembling. They were safe.
Together they walked back out onto the balcony. Miraculously, none of their windows were broken. But across the street, huge trees lay on the ground as if toppled by a massive hand. Cars had been smashed. A gigantic yellow crane had fallen against the unfinished Conference Center. Some windows of the Church Office Building had been broken.
Robbin glanced at a nearby apartment building. “Look! Look!” she cried, pointing. “There’s President Hinckley!”
Peter turned and looked. There stood President Hinckley on his own balcony, gazing out over the damage. Peter forgot the chaos below and stood watching the prophet for a long moment. At last, rather slowly, President Hinckley turned away and went back inside.
Peter smiled and leaned against his mother. “Wow,” he said softly.
Mother nodded. “That was some storm. I mean, how often does Salt Lake City have a tornado?”
“No.” Peter quickly shook his head. “Not that. I mean President Hinckley. He came to see what had happened. And you know what?”
“What?”
“I could feel his love and concern from here.”
Mother slipped her arm around his shoulder. “Makes you feel good, doesn’t it?”
Peter gave her a quick hug. “I think he loves us just as much as we love him.”
Mother smiled. “I’m sure he does.”
Fire engines, police sirens, and helicopters drew Peter’s attention back to the destruction. But he felt only peace. He would never forget the day he saw a prophet watching over his flock.

Elise wanted to dress up. She put on Dad’s shoes and a fake red nose.
I’m a funny clown.
Elise ran back to her room. She put on a yellow construction hat and grabbed a plastic hammer.
Elise hammered the floor before she ran back to her room.
I’m a strong builder.
Elise put on a glittery purple and silver gown and twirled out of her room.
Elise liked being a princess. She stayed dressed in her gown for the rest of the day.
I’m a beautiful princess.
At bedtime Elise changed into her favorite green pajamas. She walked out of her room and sat on Mom’s lap.
I am Elise. I am a child of God.

President Benson has always loved temples and temple work. When he felt better, each Friday he and Sister Benson would enter the temple to participate in a session. We knew our First Presidency meeting that morning must accommodate this commitment. One morning I commented that I had to get busy and do some of my own family names that were prepared. With a smile and a twinkle in his eye, the President said, “Brother Monson, if you’re too busy, why not let Sister Benson and me do your names for you.” Needless to say, we found time to do the work ourselves.

When I was young, our little family lived in a one-bedroom apartment. I slept on the couch in the living room. More than anything else in the world, I wanted to be an athlete. I did everything I was told might help me. While some of the advice I received was questionable, I tried it anyway, just in case it might help. I was advised not to eat chocolate, so I didn’t eat chocolate. I remember being told not to drink soda pop because it would “cut your wind.” I never drank soda pop. I was also told to sleep with the windows wide open to get plenty of fresh air, so all year long I slept with the windows open.
My dad, a steelworker, left home for work very early each day. Every morning he would quietly close the windows I had opened in the living room; then he would tuck the covers around me and stop for a minute. Often, half-dreaming, I would sense my dad standing beside the couch, looking at me. As I pretended to sleep, he would bow his head and quietly pray with all his attention, energy, and focus—for me.
Each morning he would pray that I would have a good day, that I would be safe, that I would learn and prepare for the future. And since he could not be with me until evening, he would pray for the teachers and my friends that I would be with that day.
At first, I didn’t really understand what my dad was doing those mornings when he prayed for me. But as I got older, I came to sense his love and interest in me and in everything I was doing. It is one of my favorite memories. It wasn’t until years later, after I was married, had children of my own, and would go into their rooms while they were asleep and pray for them, that I understood completely how my father felt about me.

A Quiet Night In by Jill Murphy Mrs. Large got the four little Larges ready for bed early so that she and Mr. Large could celebrate his birthday with a quiet night in. When he came home from work, all the little Larges asked was that he read them a story. But he fell asleep in the middle of it—and Mrs. Large fell asleep while trying to finish it for them. So the little Larges very quietly put themselves to bed!

One of our greatest needs is for true witnesses among our youth. Young people need models from their own generation. Thankfully we have a tremendous army of latter-day sons and daughters of Helaman, stripling “Saturday’s warriors,” who are not ashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Rather, they have turned this commitment to the Lord into an advantage. Let me tell you of one.

Steve Hawes is the student body president at New Canaan High School in Connecticut. Of its twenty-three hundred students, only twenty-four are Latter-day Saints. Steve ran unopposed in a landslide election. This is impressive. But even more impressive is Steve’s moral courage—his commitment to living the principles of the gospel.

The Hawes family lived for a time in Tampa, Florida. Steve played junior high football and basketball. When his family was preparing to move to Connecticut, the coach told Steve’s father how much he appreciated and admired Steve, not just because he is a fine athlete, but because of his deep religious convictions.

“He doesn’t preach sermons; he just quietly lives his religion each day. I remember,” said the coach, “a group of us were in the squad room, and one of the boys pulled out a copy of Playboy magazine. They opened to the centerfold and began to make some vulgar comments.

“I noticed Steve walk away, so I followed him and asked if anything was wrong. He said, ‘I’m okay, Coach, but that just isn’t my kind of thing.’”

The coach said, “Steve made us all better people. When he joined us, most of the guys were swearing. Then they stopped swearing around Steve, and after a while, they pretty well stopped swearing altogether.”

When I heard this tribute, I thought of Paul’s counsel to Timothy: “Be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity.” (1 Tim. 4:12.)

Since I now listened to special music with no din of radio and not even a newspaper, I decided to go a step further. I’d try no television on the Lord’s day. In my early days I would have cried, “Fanatic!” or other such things. I mean, what is really wrong with television on Sunday? Nothing. But this step seemed logical to me, and I know the Spirit was guiding me. After I, who had supported Sunday TV for so many years, had taken the giant step, I noticed that without fail the “cream of the crop,” yes, only the most wonderful movies, were shown on Sunday. But I had decided, and I stuck by my guns. Those movies couldn’t uplift me. A whole new world unfolded in my life. Some of the most special moments I have enjoyed have occurred on Sunday evening as I have basked in the spirit of the day and shared my feelings with friends and loved ones instead of rushing home from sacrament meeting to watch my favorite western. Maybe there’s not really a definite commandment about not watching television on Sunday, but what choice experiences I’d have missed by going along with the crowd.

Clint Stoddard of Tucson, Arizona, set a goal and achieved it through hard work. After coming in second the previous year, he set a goal to become the state wrestling champion in his weight class.
He played football to keep in shape for wrestling. In addition, he kept up his high grades and served as seminary president. In the state wrestling tournament, he was named state champ.
Clint is a priest in the Tucson 13th Ward, Tucson Arizona North Stake.

From Sister Phyllis Marshall, Massey Park Ward, Auckland Papatoetoe Stake
As a young mother, I became more aware of how commercialised Christmases were becoming each year. I loved the decorations and the music that played in the malls and on the radio, but they pushed subtle ideas of what we should be buying, what our homes should look like and what our meals should be. They were not about our Saviour’s birth, which is the true reason for the season. So, one year, my husband, Jim, and I decided to try something. On Christmas morning, the children woke up to only three gifts under the tree and a reminder of how our Saviour only received three gifts from the Wise Men. In the coming years, we tried other ways keep the focus of Christmas on Jesus Christ. This included secret gift-giving, where we would drop off a box of presents and food to a family in need, knock and then run and hide. We also introduced Christmas morning devotionals full of singing and prayer and a reverent reading of the biblical account of our Saviour’s birth. Some of these activities have become lasting traditions, and they have made all the difference in how we, as a family, enjoy and celebrate Christmas.

Recently, I went on a trek with our quorum members to the infamous Gantam Dora Trek Path in the Kambalakonda Wildlife Sanctuary. The trek was three kilometers long. At the beginning, everything was smooth; I was ahead of everyone. But after climbing for only about five hundred meters, my heart rate spiked. I was feeling breathless, dizzy, and nauseous. I regretted having climbed this far and was seriously thinking about quitting.
But then, I remembered hearing about the breathtaking view—a panorama concealed from all who never put in the effort. After taking a few minutes to rest and hydrating my tongue with a few drops of water, I resumed the ascent with the help of my friend, Raj Bangaram. And there it was, after another kilometer of effort: a beautiful, stunning vista. Every struggle we endured seemed instantly worth it. We had a wonderful time trekking, and once I got down, I could not help but compare the incident with the trials we face in life.

The youth of the Ammon Fifth Ward, Idaho Falls Idaho Ammon Stake, planned and prepared for a single day of service that made a big difference to one member in their ward. They chose as their project to repair, paint, and landscape the home of a single mother in their ward. Three months of planning and preparation went into the project before the big Saturday arrived. Committees were organized to take care of painting, landscaping, pouring cement, carpentry, and food for the work crews. Before the youth arrived, the home was prepared by having old paint scraped off and primer put on, building new cupboards and getting them ready to install, and pouring the garage floor.

By seven on the morning of the super Saturday of service, over 100 youth and leaders arrived on the scene. The street was alive with activity. Painting went quickly with ten young people to each side of the house. Other groups were loading rocks and pulling weeds from the yard. Under the supervision of adult leaders, some trees were cut down and others pruned. Another group of boys were on the roof putting new tar paper down.

After a 30-minute lunch break with food prepared by the Laurels, they were back at work. Top soil was hauled in, smoothed, and prepared for planting. Then the landscape committee planted the new lawn, trees, evergreens, and flowers. Wood chips were added as a finishing touch. After all that hard work, the irrigation canal nearby was too much of a temptation, and the work crews took a quick dip. A few more hours completed the installation of new carpet and counter tops before the cleanup crew removed all traces of debris. The group had time for a swim before dinner was prepared by the Laurels. They had fun and learned the sweetness of service when it comes from the heart.

Throughout my life, in Primary and in my youth, I have always cherished the Christmas memories of quality time with my family and extended family. One memory I cherish most is when my grandmother gave each of my siblings and me a present. She had wrapped the present so perfectly, and when I opened it, I was surprised to see a book. It was not just any ordinary book, but The Book of Mormon. At the time I didn’t fully understand the significance of this gift. It was only later, as I grew older, that I came to know the sweetness this gift holds. This memory of my grandmother has never faded. Even at a young age, she implemented the gospel into my life. Her example and the love she had for the Saviour has strengthened my faith and my testimony.

Maria Sanchez also has a story to tell. “When I was in secondary school,” she says, “I was very sad. I felt inferior to my friends. I was timid and didn’t like to stand up and speak in front of my classmates, although I studied hard and always knew the material. I had to make a class presentation one day, and I was very frightened, so I prayed to my Heavenly Father and said, ‘Today I have to speak in front of the class, and I’m scared. Please help me.’ I prayed with all the faith I had, and when my turn came, I stood up and started talking. I can’t remember what I said or how, but they all told me afterwards that my presentation was the best in the whole class. Since then I’ve known that I can always conquer my fears with the help of the Lord.”

A few days before he died, he was in the temple on the fourth floor with his associates of the First Presidency and the members of the Twelve. He was so week and frail that there was every good reason that he never should have been there. Before our meeting started, as he sat, members of the Twelve walked by to shake his hand and greet him. There was almost no response at all because of the physical drain that had come to him over the last number of months. There was almost no capacity to communicate or respond in the present situation. His hearing was very limited, his eyesight failing, his frail body filled with aches. As I shook his hand privately and felt little or no response, I gave it an extra squeeze. I said, “President Kimball, I’m Marvin Ashton.” How can I ever forget his last words to me when he looked up just a little and said very softly, “Marvin Ashton, I love you.”

I do not have all the answers, but hopefully the following experience, which happened several years ago, may be helpful to some who are still battling the question of why.
On a small Pacific island an infant girl was born to a faithful family. They called her Felila. There was happiness and joy as this grateful spirit made her debut into mortal life, but soon there were problems. Her head was abnormally large. The doctors diagnosed it as hydrocephalus. The questions of brain damage, of normalcy, of other problems all raised their haunting heads. After much fasting and prayer the elders quorum president approached the branch president, who in turn talked with the district president, who after adequate checking came to me as the mission president to see if there were some additional help available.
The medical authorities were consulted, and it was determined that there was little if anything they could do locally. Letters were written, information was sent back and forth, x-rays were taken and analyzed. There was so much to do—so many questions to be answered, so many pieces to fit together. Finally after exasperatingly long delays, things began to fall into place. A family in Salt Lake agreed to accept full responsibility for the infant, even if it meant years of outpatient care; the doctors agreed on the possibility of her eventual recovery; the hospital accepted the case on a service basis; funds were raised for her air fare; some local travelers arranged their schedules to bring her right to the hospital. But there were other problems—visas, health certificates, reservations, passports.
All during these trying days the family, and the elders quorum, and even the whole branch continued to fast and pray. The time of departure of the infrequent airplane grew near.
One morning, amidst myriads of other pressing matters, I had the strong impression that I must take the time now and put forth the extra effort required to get everything done so she could go. I got on the overseas telephone. The consulate finally agreed to issue a visa; the airlines made a special reservation; the passport people agreed to waive the normal regulations; others gave that extra effort and cooperation; and soon all was in order.
Normally I would have sent someone to bring the family in to sign the final papers, but again I felt strongly impressed that I should personally go and see the branch president. I located him in the early afternoon near the school where he was teaching. He was standing alone outside as though he were waiting for me.
Excitedly I ran up to him: “Guess what? It’s all set. Miraculously everything has worked out and Felila can leave tomorrow. Please get word to the family immediately.”
His calm, penetrating gaze quelled my exuberance. “It’s true,” I said. “I know it’s been long and there have been lots of disappointments, but she really is going now. What’s the matter?”
His steady gaze seemed to penetrate my very soul. Then softly in his liquid native tongue he informed me that when all the preparations had been made, when the hearts of so many had been stretched in service, when the goal of unity and selflessness had been achieved in those many hearts, when all had made the final commitment of others above self, at the height of all this activity that very morning, little Felila had quietly and unobtrusively slipped away—gone to that better care which so many had fasted and prayed and worked so long and hard for her to receive.
Gone? This morning? But all that work, all that time, all that fasting and praying and those strong feelings. Gone? No!
Without once shifting his gaze, he, having more faith than I, offered a few words of truth and encouragement, then quietly turned and rejoined his class.
And I was left alone, or so it seemed. I moved slowly and heavily down that dusty trail. Why? Why? After all that work and that strong faith of so many and those impressions, why?
I sensed the brightness of the sun and felt the warmth of the breeze as it lazily tossed the palm leaves and slowly shifted the silent clouds against the clear blue sky. A feeling came over me. I realized that the earth was beautiful, that life went on and was eternal. And while I cannot describe fully what happened next, part of the experience is proper to relate. The best explanation is contained in the phrase, “I was overcome by the Spirit.” It was as though one took me by the hand and led me to a high place and stood by me and said, “Look.” And I looked and beheld such beauty and magnificence as man cannot conceive. And I heard a voice, such a tender, compassionate voice—yet so unmistakably powerful—that all nature stood still and listened and obeyed.
“Come home, Felila, my daughter. Come home to the care your loved ones have sought for you. I have heard their prayers and have known their fasting and love for you, and I answer. Come home, my daughter. You have finished your mission in life. Hearts have been softened; souls have been stretched; faith has been increased. Come home now, Felila.”
He knew her! He knew her name. He knew all about her and about all those others. How perfect our Father’s love! He had heard the prayers. He had done what was best. He knew everything—which thing, though I believed, I never had supposed. In some marvelous way, which is beyond our mortal comprehension, he knows and understands all things.
My questions as to why—as to justice and reasons—were all at that moment completely swept away. They were so irrelevant, my questioning so totally out of place, like one trying to dig the Grand Canyon with a teaspoon.

I know that our Heavenly Father lives. I know that Jesus Christ is our Savior and Redeemer, and I know that my family and I belong to the true Church on earth today.
I have been a member of the Church for 11 years, and for the first three years, I attended Church as an investigator, I met several missionaries who taught me. Every time they asked me about baptism, I declined as my family didn’t want me joining the Church. I prayed and fasted that the Lord would touch the hearts of my parents. In 2017 I asked my mother nicely, if I could be baptized and that she could also get to learn with the missionaries.
It was a tough decision for me to confront my parents about the Church, but after my baptism on May 27, 2017, I got to know people who helped me stay on the covenant path despite the difficulties and plagues I faced. However, I was still concerned about my family. On June 3, 2021, I was called to serve the Lord in the Democratic Republic of the Congo Kinshasa East Mission. When I entered the temple on June 12, 2021, for my own endowment, I prayed to our Heavenly Father in these words, “Heavenly Father, I have come to serve Thee, my request is that Thou may assist my family so that someday we may all become members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and may enter the temple.”
My mother, my elder and my younger sisters all got baptized when I was on my mission. We lived with my mother for 10 years without my father’s love, and my sisters and I had our mother by our side all the time. I had all the love for my father despite the fact that he had distanced himself from us for 10 years. When I was on a mission, I knew I shouldn’t change the lives of others while my family perished, so I did everything I could to get back in touch with my father.
As I got in touch with my father, I knew I had a huge responsibility to introduce him to the missionaries. I attended his first meeting with the missionaries through a WhatsApp video call, but the first time, the missionaries and I faced a lot of criticism and backbiting. My father didn’t believe that there can be a true church of God in the world today. I asked my mission president for a favor to go to the temple. On my way to the temple, I prayed and fasted for my father.
Two months after I returned from my mission, on August 5 and 6, 2023, I was privileged to baptize and confirm my father and today we are all members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints through prayer, fasting and meditation in the holy house of the Lord. Today all the members of my family are with me, and we share the same faith and the same gospel of Christ.
As we follow the example of Christ, we can bring about the conversion of the whole world.

At my school there are two boys who are always bothering everybody else. Everyone is afraid of them. One time these boys were bothering some girls, and the girls were almost crying. I said a prayer within myself, and feeling very confident, I firmly told those two boys to stop bothering the girls. I didn’t feel alone or scared. They just looked at me, and although they were bigger than I was, they didn’t say a single word, and they left.
At that moment I tried to do what Jesus Christ would have done. I know that He lives and He loves me. I really like going to church, especially Primary, because I learn about the gospel.

Illustrations by Adam Howling
In Chile, in order to go to college, you have to take a university placement test. I wanted to study engineering at a university that was far from where I lived. It would be very expensive, so my goal was to get the highest score possible on the placement test so I could earn a scholarship for outstanding exam scores.
I knew where and what I wanted to study, and I knew what I would have to do to make it happen. I started preparing for the test. I studied, read, and reviewed the material, but on the practice tests, I still wasn’t getting the score I needed. I turned to my Heavenly Father in prayer and asked Him for greater intelligence and to enlighten my understanding so I could reach my goal. I prayed for this daily for an entire year. I went to special preparation classes at my school, and I enrolled in classes at an institution that was geared toward preparing for the exam.
I kept up my daily scripture study, and I never missed a day of seminary. I fulfilled all my Aaronic Priesthood assignments and never studied on Sundays, no matter how desperate the situation was. I knew Sunday is the Lord’s day, and I wanted to respect it in the way my parents had taught me. I knew I couldn’t afford to deprive myself of the blessings Heavenly Father had for me, especially when I most needed them. Despite all this, I wasn’t getting the score I needed on my practice tests.
My family and I prayed and fasted, and my dad gave me a blessing. With this spiritual preparation and my other preparation, I took the test. Not only did I end up with the score I needed, but I exceeded my goal, scoring one of the highest percentages possible in the math section. I received the scholarships and benefits I needed, and I was able to study at the university I chose.
From the time I was young, I learned that if I did everything I could and took care of my spiritual responsibilities first, then Heavenly Father would bless me. Things might not always work out the way we expect them to, but God will take care of us. I know it’s only with His help that all things are possible.

A few months ago, while participating in a service activity I was able to observe a sister who was heavily expecting. I wondered how much she would be able to offer while carrying such a physically demanding load. The agility and energy with which this sister moved to help lift a load for another needing relief, seemed to have lightened her own load. President Spencer W. Kimball (1895-1985) observed, “Only when you lift a burden, God will lift your burden. Divine paradox this! The man who staggers and falls because his burden is too great can lighten that burden by taking on the weight of another’s burden.”3

The Hoegers are dear friends to a fellow Latter-day Saint Olympic luger, Michelle Despain Carbajal, who represented Argentina in this year’s Games. Werner said he was blessed to have the opportunity to give Michelle a priesthood blessing after she took a perilous spill during her training runs for the Torino Games. Michelle made a remarkable recovery, and though she had trouble in all four of her runs at the Olympic Games, she was still able to compete—and lift others as well.
A fellow luger, Anne Abernathy, noted Michelle’s kindness after she received a gift signed by Michelle and all of the women’s luge racers. “Michelle Despain of Argentina wrote something nice,” Abernathy told the Associated Press. “She wrote, ‘Thank you for your example, Anne.’ It made me feel good.”