Gospel Story Finder

All my life I strived to be who I thought Heavenly Father expected me to be. But there was a problem: I never knew if I was good enough.
I fixated on my imperfections, especially after studying scriptures or listening to general conference talks. When reading these things that were supposed to encourage me, I would only focus on what I was doing wrong.
I lived this way for a long time—miserable and feeling weary in my discipleship.
But I didn’t realize that what I was actually failing to do was truly believe in the Savior and the pure, simple truths of His gospel.
My perspective changed while I was listening to a recent devotional with Sister Patricia T. Holland. She said, “What I regret most in my youth is that I didn’t see the simple beauty of the gospel; I made even the gospel too complex.”1
Her message struck me.
I realized that I complicate the gospel frequently! Many of us do. We expect ourselves to be perfect, believing there is no room for flaws and progress. And if things aren’t going the way we expect them to, we become anxious about the future, compare ourselves to others, lose connection with Heavenly Father, and even start wondering if living the gospel is worth it.
I realized my anxiety wasn’t caused by living the gospel. I was anxious because I had stopped focusing on the reason I live the gospel: Jesus Christ.
I forgot that He and Heavenly Father love me with perfect love (see John 15:9; 2 Nephi 1:15).
I forgot that I am meant to have joy in the journey (see 2 Nephi 2:25).
I forgot that mortality includes having imperfections and relying on the Savior to overcome them (see Ether 12:27).
I forgot that the Savior is here to help me learn and grow and progress and that He consecrates my efforts along the way (see 2 Nephi 2:1–2; 32:9).
We run into trouble when we turn the gospel into a checklist of rules and forget the pure truths of Jesus Christ. When we strive to keep our covenants and the commandments with the intention of becoming more like Him, then we are truly living the gospel.
Heavenly Father wants us to always remember that the Savior can help us reach our divine potential. But how do we not forget this important truth?
Here are a few practices that have helped me:
I pray for Heavenly Father to help me feel that He loves me and accepts my best efforts.
I take the sacrament, focusing on Jesus Christ’s Atonement. I remind myself that His grace can help me in the future and is already at work in my life as I strive to follow Him.
I turn to the scriptures for comfort. I read about those who also felt inadequate and were strengthened by the Lord.
I go to the temple often. Everything in the Lord’s house reminds me of His mercy and that I am capable of progress. There, I can feel peace amid so many anxieties.
These practices have made me appreciate what matters most in the gospel. They remind me to not complicate its simplicity.
By focusing on the pure truths of the gospel of Jesus Christ, I have seen my life and faith miraculously simplify. I know yours will too.

Another faithful missionary was Carl A. Carlquist, born near Vänersborg in 1857. At age 17, he felt a strong desire to preach the gospel and was called to distribute Church tracts around Jönköping. He was poor, so members of his branch, seven widows and their children, obtained a suit coat and boots for him. Carl didn’t own an overcoat when the winter season came, but he was allowed to borrow one a few hours every day from some of the members when they didn’t need theirs.5

Carl later emigrated to Utah and married Hulda Östergren, a Swedish immigrant. He returned to Sweden two more times on missions, including as mission president of the Scandinavian Mission. Much of his last mission was spent correcting false reports published about the Church by Reverend P. E. Åslev, a pastor who had lived in Salt Lake City and was hired to promote anti-Mormon sentiment in Sweden. For instance, in 1912, Åslev wrote an article in the newspaper Svenska Dagbladet in which he claimed that Brother Carlquist was a polygamist.6 Carl’s efforts included meeting with King Gustaf V and refuting Åslev’s claims in public meetings.7

WELCOME!I’m Sister Simon.Hi! I’m Ramón.Hello. I’m Cathlyn.I’m Mei Lin.Hi! I’m David.And I’m Joshua.
What on earth are you doing, Josh?Archaeology.Sure you are.
This is a very promising dig. I’m unearthing evidence of an early twenty-first century civilization.The early twenty-first century is right now.Exactly. From here I’ll work backward. Soon I’ll be in Book of Mormon times.
Right. So what have you discovered?This!
A CTR ring?Don’t you see? This proves that a young man who wanted to choose the right inhabited this dwelling. I bet with a little more digging, I’ll find a baptismal certificate.
Impressive.Brilliant might be a better word.

After my husband died, the missionaries came into my life. I resisted the gospel message at first. I had become very independent. But one day they said to me, “Sister Ncube, you know, we are not looking for members. What we are after is your soul. We are pursuing you for your soul.” That went deep in my heart. I sat down and said, “I agree. I will be baptized.” For the first time in my life, I learned what true freedom was. When I was baptized my soul was set free.
I was baptized on Liberia’s Independence Day, but for me it was the day I would declare, “Now, I know the truth. I know I am free. I am free indeed.”

When I was 14 or 15 years old, I worked for my father in the family dry cleaning business during what free time I had. That summer, business was slow. So I said, “OK, I want to read the entire Book of Mormon—from the first page to the last.” And I did. The reading excited me.
In the edition of the Book of Mormon I had, Moroni’s promise was printed on one of the opening pages. That promise struck me. If someone read the book and then asked God, He would answer (see Moro. 10:3–5). I had heard the promise before, but in that moment the Holy Ghost impressed it upon my heart.
After finishing the last page of the book, I knelt in a small private room at work and prayed to Heavenly Father. And through the Holy Ghost I received the testimony I sought. From the tip of my toes to the last hair on my head, I felt that the Book of Mormon was the word of God and that Joseph Smith was a prophet.

Felipe knew it was getting late. The birds had stopped chirping, and the crickets were humming loudly. He and his mother had walked in the forest for more than two hours. But each path they took looked the same as the last. They were completely lost.
Felipe was getting really scared. How long could they survive in this jungle? He was only 10, after all. That wasn’t old enough to fight off a snake or wild boar! And what other scary creatures might be on the prowl after sunset? The thought sent chills up his spine.
Be brave, he told himself. He knew he had to be.
Felipe wished his dad were there. But he had died six months ago. Without him, things were tough for Felipe and his mom. They were out of money and food.
Felipe hoped they could get to his sister’s house on the other side of the mountain soon. She could give them some money to buy rice.
He said a prayer in his heart. “Father in Heaven, please help us find our way. Please.”
Then a thought came to him: Look for the coconut trees. Felipe looked up. There, in the distance, was a grove of coconut trees. He could see them high above the rest of the jungle. Their palm leaves waved in the breeze. For the first time in hours, Felipe felt hope.
“Look!” He pointed to the trees.
His mother understood. Coconut trees meant a village was close. God had answered Felipe’s prayer. Felipe took his mother’s hand. Together they walked to safety as the sun dipped below the trees.
Felipe always remembered how God answered his prayer. Sometimes he wished he could hear God’s voice better like he did that night in the jungle.

On 26 January 1880, everything was ready.
Elizabeth M. Decker wrote of the first wagons to go down through “the Hole”: “Coming down the hole in the rock to get to the river … is almost strait down, the cliffs on each side are five hundred ft. [about 155 meters] high and there is just room enough for a wagon to go down. It nearly scared me to death. The first wagon I saw go down they put the brake on and … [chained the rear wheels together so they slid as a unit instead of rolled] and had a big rope fastened to the wagon and about ten men holding back on it and they went down like they would smash everything. I’ll never forget that day.”

One of the guidelines in For the Strength of Youth states: “Through your dress and appearance, you can show the Lord that you know how precious your body is. You can show that you are a disciple of Jesus Christ.”
After studying these words, one young woman realized that perhaps some of her clothes were not completely modest. Through prayer and study of the scriptures, she was reminded that she was a disciple of Jesus Christ and that, as His representative, she needed to make some changes. She didn’t want to have anything in her wardrobe that was a temptation, so she went through her closet and drawers and got rid of anything that wasn’t modest. She said, “I would be smart if I didn’t even try on anything in stores that I knew I shouldn’t wear. Why be tempted?” That firm resolve showed the Lord that she respected her body, and she drove down a deep stake for modesty.

Our Young Women president gave each of us a challenge to tell our parents that we loved them. It was really hard for me and my sister, because even though our parents knew we loved them, we had never told them.

We decided to prepare dinner and write on their napkins that we loved them. It was a big surprise to our parents and turned out so well that we tell them that we love them every day now.

I believe the key to family unity is family love. Pray, and Heavenly Father will help you find a way to express your love to your family.

The article “No Spoonful of Sugar” in the May 1988 New Era really disappointed me. It seemed to me that you accentuated the negative and eliminated the positive.
I am a nanny of eight months, and I am having a wonderful time. My testimony has grown along with my sense of responsibility. I know that there are some hard situations, but not all are bad.
My employees have treated me very well, and they help to work out any problems I might have. They even gave me a plane ticket home for Christmas.
I would not have missed this experience for anything. I really wish you had printed a few more positive examples.
I really enjoy reading the New Era articles and thought you would like to know how my nanny friends and I felt about the article.
Louann BishopNingham, Maryland

One particularly powerful experience that I had with prayer was in June 2018 as I prepared for a mission. I had received my mission call to Greece and was eagerly applying for my visa and participating in the temple preparation course to be ready to go to the temple. One night I went to a friend’s house who was no longer a member of the church. She had many other friends there who were drinking and when the topic of my mission call came up in the conversation, they all started saying discouraging things about my decision. Saying that I didn’t know my own religion and Joseph Smith had done things I should know about and I shouldn’t preach stuff to others that I didn’t know enough about myself. I started doubting myself and my experiences and my decision to serve. As I drove home that night, my car became my sacred grove. I poured my heart out to God asking Him for help – a sign, reassurance, anything. I arrived at my university apartment full of snot and tears and nothing happened. No angel, no voice, no light, no miraculous open page of a Book of Mormon with the perfect scripture. So, I went to sleep, wondering if God had heard me.
A few days later, I received a call from an old friend from New Mexico who I hadn’t had contact with since leaving for university. She explained that she didn’t know why she was calling me, but she felt prompted to tell me that she had decided to serve a mission and was submitting her mission papers. She hadn’t told anyone except for her family. I said congratulations and thought “That was random.”
A few days later, again I received a text message from a girl who had been my roommate for my first semester of university. She also told me she had decided to serve a mission and was called to serve to speak Spanish and French in Montreal, Canada. I thought, “Wow, that’s really cool!” and again felt it was random.
Then a few weeks later I got a call from one of my close cousins, Eric, who had not been active in the church for most of his life because of his parent’s divorce and excommunication. He told me that he had recently decided to serve a mission and had received his call. Not only was he going to serve a full-time mission, but he had also been called to serve in Greece on 21st November 2018. We were going to serve together!
I knew that these friends had been an answer to prayer and through following the promptings of the Spirit they were able to give me the reassurance that I wasn’t alone and my decision to serve a mission was right and I should move forward with faith. Just like my friends and cousin at that time, we can be instruments in God’s hand to carry out His will and aid those we know and meet in their search for answers to their own prayers.

This past year, my stake leaders challenged the youth to find the name of an ancestor to take to the temple during the youth conference temple trip. Our family had reached many “dead ends” in our family history work, but I was determined to find at least one name.
Our ward family history consultant patiently taught me how to set up an LDS Account and log onto FamilySearch.org. She encouraged me to find my ancestors and taught me how.
To find more family members in our well-researched ancestry, I had to be creative. I started searching for descendants of my direct-line ancestors. For instance, I found a great-great-great-grandfather with several daughters who had never joined the Church. As a result, very little temple work had been done for them and their posterity. I also searched every ancestral line for work that was incomplete.
I immediately began to feel a genuine love for each relative I found. They are real to me! The Holy Ghost helped me know where to look, and within two months, I found and submitted over 1,500 names for ordinance work. The spirit of Elijah has touched my heart.

When I was presiding over the New England Mission, I attended a zone conference; and as we entered the room where the young elders were waiting, I saw, sitting in the back row, a tall and elderly man.
“I was baptized a few days ago,” he said to me. “I’m 74 years old, and I found the gospel only now in my life.”
In a pleading voice he asked if he might attend the meeting. “I just want to be here to learn,” he said. “I’ll sit on the back row. I won’t interrupt.”
Then, almost in tears, he poured out his regret. “Why did I not find it until now? My life is over. My children are all raised and gone, and it is just too late for me to learn the gospel.”
What a joy it was to explain to him one of the great miracles that occurs over and over again is the transformation of those who join the Church. (Or I might say of those who rejoin the Church.) They are in the world and they are of the world, and then the missionaries find them. Though they are in the world thereafter, they are not of the world. Very quickly in their thinking and in their feelings and in their actions, it is as though they had been members of the Church all of their lives.

Before concluding, I hope you will pardon a personal reference to my own father and the power of his good life in mine. For a half century now I have benefited from his wisdom, his generosity, and his goodness. I am not sure I realized the full extent of his influence until recently as I prepared to return home following the final session of a stake conference to which I had been assigned. An elderly brother came up from the congregation to meet me. He thanked me for coming, and then, in obvious reference to the many times I must have quoted my father and referred to his teachings during the conference sessions, he said, “Brother Jensen, if you are ever assigned again to our stake, why don’t you just send your father!” My hope is that in some small way I will have a similar influence for lasting good in the lives of our own children.

“Urgggg … this can’t be happening!” Ryan said to himself in the mirror. He looked at the floppy ends of his tie. He had half an hour to figure this out. How hard could it be?
Mom knocked on the bathroom door. “Ryan?” she said softly.
“Come in,” he moaned.
Mom smiled at him as she opened the door. “How’s it coming?”
“Not so good,” he said. “I wish I could get it to look like Dad’s.”
A small frown passed quickly over Mom’s face and disappeared. Ryan wished he hadn’t said anything about Dad, but he couldn’t help it.
Mom flipped the ends of the tie around. “Do you think we could figure it out from the Scouting handbook?” She went to find it.
It seemed ridiculous to Ryan that he had lived to be 12 without learning how to tie a tie. Dad used to tie it for him. But now Mom and Dad were divorced, and Dad lived across town.
Mom reappeared with the book opened to a page. “Can I try?” she asked.
“Sure,” Ryan said, trying to be nice. Mom was smart, but she wasn’t exactly known for her knot-tying expertise.
Mom tied something that looked like an origami project and then undid the silky fabric and started over. After another failed attempt, she sighed heavily.
Suddenly, Ryan’s older sister Katie rushed into the bathroom. “Ryan! What’s wrong with your tie?” she asked, as if his tie were a mutant life-form.
“Nothing!” Mom said, pushing the fabric into shape. “Everything.”
“I’m going to be late,” Ryan said, trying not to sound upset. But he was upset. This was his first day to pass the sacrament since he had been ordained a deacon, and his tie looked awful.
“Well, you can’t pass the sacrament looking like that,” Katie said.
Mom gently pushed Katie out of the bathroom and then came back in. “I have an idea,” she said.
Ryan looked at her doubtfully.
“What if you run over to the church early and ask the bishop to do it?”
The bishop? How embarrassing! Ryan thought he would rather stay home than walk into the chapel with his tie in his hand and walk up to the bishop in front of everybody.
“I bet he helps Peter do his tie all the time,” Mom said.
Peter was the bishop’s son. “I doubt it,” Ryan said. He frowned into the mirror and pulled at the tie.
When Ryan got to the doors of the chapel, he felt a red-hot humiliation fill his face. What would the other boys think if they saw him ask the bishop? Why couldn’t his mom do it for him? He thought about turning around. Then something quiet but strong told him to go into the chapel and it would be OK.
He took a deep breath and walked through the doors. He was early, so the chapel was nearly empty except for the organist and a few people sitting at the front. And there was Bishop Anderson with his head down, quietly reading his scriptures. Just then the bishop looked up at Ryan. He put his scriptures down and walked down the aisle. He held out his hand.
“Welcome, Ryan. Are you excited to pass the sacrament today?” he asked.
“Well, I have a little problem,” Ryan said.
“Don’t worry. Everyone’s nervous the first time. I stepped on a lady’s foot when I was your age. It all turned out all right.”
“No,” Ryan said, holding out his tie.
“Oh. Come with me,” the bishop said.
The two of them stepped into the foyer. The bishop showed Ryan how to loop the fabric, and before Ryan had time to think about it, he had a normal-looking tie. Bishop Anderson didn’t make fun of him or act like he should know how to do this already. He didn’t act like he felt sorry for Ryan either.
“I appreciate your asking me to help you with that,” Bishop Anderson said as they walked back into the chapel.
Ryan nodded. He was still embarrassed but not nearly as much now that his tie was on.
The bishop put his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “This ward is like a big family, and I always feel better when the people in my family are taken care of.” Then he walked up to the front of the chapel.
As Ryan passed the sacrament, he saw familiar, smiling faces. He thought about what the bishop had said. This ward was like a big family, and it was a family he liked being a part of.

Illustration by Jimmy Holder
“Are you sure you’ll be OK taking care of Reynna?” Ashley asked. She gave Emma a worried look.
Emma nodded. “I’m 12. I can handle it!”
Emma’s grownup sister, Ashley, was going with Mom to visit Grandma in the hospital. That meant Emma got to babysit! Emma loved playing with her little niece. It was the best part of being an aunt!
“Thanks for looking after Reynna,” Ashley said.
“We’ll have lots of fun,” Emma said. “Everything will be fine.”
Reynna clapped her hands and giggled.
Ashley smiled. “Sounds good! We’ll be back soon.” She kissed Reynna on the forehead, and then she and Mom left for the hospital.
Emma started playing hide-and-seek with Reynna. Actually, Reynna wasn’t very good at hiding. But Emma pretended to look for her anyway and acted surprised when she “found” her. Reynna squealed with laughter every time.
After playing for a while, Emma got thirsty. She left Reynna in the hallway for just a minute to grab a juice box from the kitchen. When she came back, Reynna wasn’t there!
Then she heard splashing and laughing coming from the bathroom. She peeked her head around the doorway and saw Reynna. “There you are!”
“Dere are!” Reynna said back.
Emma noticed Reynna’s clothes were wet and her little feet were dancing in puddles of water on the bathroom tile.
Then Emma saw where the water was coming from.
Oh no. Reynna had tried to flush a whole roll of toilet paper down the toilet!
Reynna looked up at Emma with a sweet smile. Emma tried to smile back, but she flinched as more water gushed from the toilet. “Reynna, you and I are in so much trouble.”
Reynna just giggled.
Emma took her out of the bathroom and dried her off. Then she did her best to clean up the water. But it kept pouring out of the toilet like a waterfall. Some of it even spilled out into the hallway. Emma used towels to soak up the puddles as much as she could. Finally the water stopped running. But the bathroom was a mess.
“Mommy and Grandma are not going to be very happy about this,” Emma told Reynna.
Reynna frowned. “Uh-oh.”
Emma sighed. Babysitting was a little tougher than she thought!
When Mom and Ashley got home, Emma burst into tears. She explained what had happened and showed them the bathroom.
“It’s only water,” Mom said with a smile. “We’ll clean it up in a jiffy.”
“You’re not mad?” Emma asked.
“No,” Mom said. “Reynna was curious about what would happen if she stuffed a roll of toilet paper down the toilet. Now she knows.”
Ashley smiled. “And now we know how fast she can make a giant mess!”
“And I know I can’t leave Reynna by herself,” Emma said. “Ever!”
They all laughed.
Ashley put her arm around Emma’s shoulders. “You’re a good aunt, Emma. Thanks for helping with Reynna.”
Mom nodded. “You did your best. That’s what Heavenly Father asks of us. Just that we do our best.”
Just then Reynna tugged on Emma’s leg. “Hide see?” she asked.
Emma grinned and took Reynna’s hand. “Let’s go play one more round of hide-and-seek!” ?

Harold B. Lee learned to recognize the Spirit at an early age. One day he started toward some rundown sheds, but a voice called his name and told him not to go there. Harold obeyed. He continued to follow the Spirit throughout his life, like when he was called to lead the Church Welfare Program. He also led the Church department that developed learning materials to help members recognize the Spirit in their own lives.

A few years ago, I was driving home from work when a large semitruck, traveling in the opposite direction, lost one of its dual tires. The tire flew over the median separating our lanes. It came bouncing down my side of the freeway. Cars were swerving in both directions, drivers not knowing which direction the tire would bounce next. I dodged left when I should have dodged right, and the tire took its final bounce right on the corner of my windshield.

A friend called my wife to inform her of the accident. She told me later that her first thought was of lacerations from shattered glass. Indeed, I was covered with beads of broken glass but did not suffer a single scratch. It was definitely not because of my driving skills; rather, it was because the windshield of my little car was made of tempered glass.

Recently I learned of a fearless young Laurel. She was invited to participate in a statewide competition for her high school on the same evening she had committed to participate in a stake Relief Society meeting. When she realized the conflict and explained to competition officials that she would need to leave the competition early to attend an important meeting, she was told she would be disqualified if she did so.

What did this latter-day Laurel do? She kept her commitment to participate in the Relief Society meeting. As promised, she was disqualified from the statewide competition. When asked about her decision, she replied simply, “Well, the Church is more important, isn’t it?”

As December and the holidays approached, I knew it was going to be difficult. My dad had passed away just four months before, leaving only my mom and me at home. At the same time, I was lucky to be at a stake conference where President Hinckley made a surprise visit. He bore his testimony and expressed his love. He said: “Do you feel gloomy? Lift your eyes. Stand on your feet. Sing songs of Christmas. Be positive.” These few words meant so much to me. I knew if I did my best at this hard time in my life, things would work out. What President Hinckley said did not take away my pain, but it helped me understand that I needed to be happy and help my mom and family be happy.
After the meeting, the congregation stood and sang “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet” (Hymns, no. 19). The strength and spirit of love in that building were incredible. After we left the church, we pulled up to a stoplight and amazingly we were right next to President Hinckley. We were so excited and waved to him. When he waved back, you could feel his love. We hadn’t touched or talked to him, but the love I felt from him was strong and unforgettable.