Gospel Story Finder

La Verkin, Utah—One night when I was sixteen years old, Father gave a Christmas party for his own children and their families and the nearest neighbors. We danced. My brothers were the musicians. We knew it was Father’s aim to end the party at ten o’clock, which he did right in the middle of a square-dance by ordering the musicians to stop. But Father didn’t know that my brothers had lifted me up to the clock many times that night. Each time I turned it back thirty minutes. It must have been past midnight when the party broke up.
“Julia’s Christmas,” from the Christian Olsen family record, Our Pioneer Heritage, 14 (1971): 199

Another day, Bob had stopped to fish. When he looked up, a large wolf, about 30 feet away across the creek, was staring at him. It followed us for several days. I’m pretty sure he was a dominant wolf that had been driven out of his pack. He still carried his tail curled way up above the top of his back, a sign in the society of the pack that he’s a leader. We finally lost him when we crossed a large lake.

Growing up, I was often exposed to alcohol, tea, and coffee, mostly when I would spend time with my extended family. My immediate family and I are the only members of the Church among my relatives, and sometimes it felt disheartening and isolating when others would look down on my beliefs. But I knew God was real, I had faith in His restored gospel and in my baptismal covenants, and I knew He wanted me to make good decisions.
When I moved to London, England, in my early twenties, I began working at an international bank. Everyone lived off tea and coffee to get them through the workday on our fast-moving trade floor. On my second day of work, my manager made me a cup of tea. I thanked her but explained that I don’t drink tea—she quickly offered me coffee instead.
I knew she was just being kind, but I was determined to keep my standards. Although I felt a little awkward, I explained in greater detail why I don’t drink tea or coffee, and I was able to share some of my beliefs with her, including the Word of Wisdom.
That was a great experience, but similar situations didn’t always go as well.
As time went on, being surrounded by the normalcy of others drinking alcohol made it difficult for me to keep my standards. Going to pubs with clients and coworkers was a regular circumstance I would find myself in. I grew tired of having to explain myself when I turned down a drink, and sometimes I just wanted to fit in.
But beyond wanting to fit in, I wanted to be an example of a disciple of Jesus Christ, so I learned a few ways to help me resist temptation:
I prayed for strength each morning to make good decisions.
I often listened to conference talks or hymns on my way to work.
I kept my favorite scripture taped to my bathroom mirror to read each day: “Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things” (Alma 26:12).
I enlisted the help of my closest coworkers, asking them to support me when others would offer me “just one drink.” They could tell when I was feeling uncomfortable and would kindly jump in and order me a “sparkling water on the rocks” to help me avoid feeling awkward during these gatherings.
I worked with many other religious individuals who had similar morals. There were a few practicing Muslims whom I bonded with, and we often sat together during work functions so we could have strength in numbers. Surrounding myself with like-minded people who respected my standards helped me immensely (see Ecclesiastes 4:9–10).
I strove to focus on my baptismal covenant to “always remember Him” (see Doctrine and Covenants 20:77, 79), which helped me feel the Spirit more abundantly. I had promised to follow God and be a disciple of Christ, and seeking to always remember the Savior helped me keep an eternal and infinite perspective in the most finite moments of temptation.
But what has helped me most in resisting temptation is knowing that the Lord has a higher purpose for keeping all of His commandments, including the Word of Wisdom. And I know that remaining true to the commandments has always blessed my life in so many ways. (See Doctrine and Covenants 82:10.)
I’ve realized that the Word of Wisdom is more than just going without alcohol and other strong substances. Heavenly Father gave us this commandment to help us maintain good health and practice self-mastery, to protect us from potentially crippling addictions and other consequences, and to allow us to find greater wisdom and knowledge (see Doctrine and Covenants 89).
I’ve seen that when we demonstrate obedience to the simple things the Lord asks of us, our capacity and desire to keep all of His commandments grows, and we can learn to overcome even greater temptations and challenges (see 2 Nephi 28:30).
I know that Heavenly Father loves me and that through His strength and the Savior’s, I can overcome peer pressure and temptation. I always remember Alma 7:11–12, which explains how the Savior understands all we face—pains, afflictions, and even temptations. He knows how “to succor his people according to their infirmities.”
As I have relied on Jesus Christ to help me in my weaknesses, I have felt His strength enter my life, and I more fully see that He truly does understand us. And when we are faced with temptation, He is ready to help us see the bigger picture and choose well. All we need to do is turn to Him.
You can submit your own article, ideas, or feedback at liahona.ChurchofJesusChrist.org. We can’t wait to hear from you!

About one month ago, I got injured quite badly during a sports game. At times this injury prevented me from attending church. I would be lying at home, not being able to sit up for long. One Sunday I picked up the New Era. After I had read it, I picked up another and then another. After about two Sundays at home I had read all the copies of the New Era that we have in our living room. Even though I missed going to Young Women (and sometimes to Mutual activities), I felt as though I was still learning the Church’s principles.Jessica Evans, Lake Rotoroa Ward, Hamilton New Zealand Glenview Stake

But even knowing about God and our relationship to Him and doing the things that will enable us to understand those truths at a deeper level will not lead us to a full understanding of who we really are. For just as there is a difference between knowing about something and doing something, there is an equally big difference between doing something and being something.

Let me explain what I mean. In my opinion, the greatest basketball player of all-time was Bill Russell—Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant notwithstanding. In 21 seasons of playing organized basketball, Bill Russell won 18 championships, including 11 NBA championships, 9 of them in a row. He won an NCAA championship, an Olympic gold medal, and an NBA championship—all in a single year. Russell obviously knew a lot about basketball. And he just as obviously knew how to do (or play) basketball.

Russell tended to stand out in a crowd. He was 6"9" and had a unique goatee. He was also notoriously unapproachable. When he was traveling, people regularly asked him if he was a basketball player. He always said no. His teammates often were exasperated with this answer—thinking Russell was being sarcastic or condescending. After seeing this scenario repeat itself yet again in an airport, one of his teammates, John Havlichek, finally summoned up the courage to ask Russell why he denied being a basketball player when it was obvious that he was and that he was one of the best known basketball players of his time. Russell's answer was profound: "Basketball is what I do, it's not who I am."

Bill Russell understood that there is a difference between doing something and being something. That is true of our quest for a full knowledge of who we are as well. Our divine destiny is not to "do" something, but to "be" something—to be gods and goddesses.

One minute Norene was sitting quietly in the passenger seat with her little brother, Mark, while her sister, Janette, drove toward home. The next minute the car went out of control and crashed into a cement culvert.
The accident happened so fast Norene only knew that her face hurt, that Mark lay on the floor much too quietly, and that Janette sagged against the steering wheel with blood dripping from her head. A fear worse than any she had known in all her eight years seemed to freeze Norene’s body, and she began to cry.
She heard voices coming closer to the car. “You call an ambulance, and we’ll try to get them out before the car catches fire.” Hands reached in and lifted Norene through the window.
“Are you all right?” a woman asked.
“Yes, but my brother and sister—”
“We’ll have them out in a minute. You lie right here on the grass and rest.”
The man who had come to help pulled at the car doors, but they wouldn’t open. He climbed through the back window and over the seat to get Mark off the floor. He handed the still unmoving two-year-old out the window to the woman. After she laid Mark on the grass beside Norene, she and the man carefully lifted Janette through the broken glass.
Janette moaned weakly and opened her eyes. She tried to reach out to Norene, but her hand fell to the grass by her side and her eyes closed again.
“The ambulance should be here any minute,” the woman told Norene, putting her arm around her shoulder. “Don’t cry any more. They’ll take good care of all of you. Where’re your mother and father?”
“They went on a trip,” Norene replied. “My big sister knows where.”
“Well, the folks at the hospital will find them, and everything will be all right. Don’t you worry.”
The trip to the hospital was a frightening one. The siren was going, and the attendants were too busy with Janette and Mark to offer Norene any comfort.
At the hospital a nurse helped Norene onto the bed in a little room and cleaned the cuts on her face. Janette and Mark had been taken to a room down the hall. Norene tried to answer all the questions the nurse asked, but there were many things she didn’t know. Then a new nurse came in and put her arm around Norene’s shoulder.
“Your sister is too sick to tell us very much, but whenever she is able to talk, she says, ‘Get the elders.’ Norene, do you know what that means?”
“Oh, yes! She wants you to call the missionaries.”
“What missionaries does she mean?”
“The Mormon missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” Norene answered. “Can you find them?”
“I don’t know if there are any in our town, dear, but I’ll try to find one.”
“Can I see my sister and brother now?”
“Not yet. The doctor is still with them. I’ll be back, and as soon as possible, I’ll take you to see them.”
When she was alone, Norene began to pray. She asked Heavenly Father to help her sister and brother and to please bring Mom and Dad to them quickly. When she opened her eyes, the door had been swung open and she could see nurses and doctors hurrying back and forth, pushing carts and carrying trays filled with bandages and medicines. Then she saw two young men. Their faces were unfamiliar, but Norene knew who they were. They wore suits and had name tags. She had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. Norene ran out of the room. “Are you the elders?” she asked.
“Yes, we are,” one of the young men answered. He glanced at a paper. “Are you Norene?”
“Yes.” She threw her arms around the young missionary’s waist. “Will you give my brother and sister a blessing? They’re really hurt.”
“We’ll be glad to, Norene,” the other missionary replied. “Would you like a blessing too?”
“Yes, please,” she answered.
An elderly couple hurried down the hall. “We got here as soon as we could,” the man said, all out of breath.
“Brother and Sister Kendall,” the first missionary said, “this is Norene. We’re going to administer to her and her brother and sister now.”
A calm feeling came into the room when the elders put their hands on Janette’s head and then on Mark’s. They asked Heavenly Father to heal them and to help the doctors do everything they needed to do. When Norene’s turn came, a peaceful feeling took the place of the frantic one she had had, and she knew everything would be all right.
The doctor and nurses came back into the room to take care of Janette and Mark. One of the nurses said, “I’m afraid you won’t be able to see your brother and sister again until tomorrow. Please go out to the waiting room now and try to get some rest.”
Norene and the missionaries went back into the hallway. The elderly woman held out her hand. “Until your parents are located and can get here, how would you like to come home with us?” Sister Kendall asked. “My husband and I are here on a mission, too, and we have grandchildren back home who are just about your age. It would be a treat to have you stay overnight with us.”
Norene thought for a minute. She felt sure that Heavenly Father would watch over Janette and Mark and that He must have sent these kind people to take care of her until her mom and dad came. She reached out, put her hand in Sister Kendall’s and walked with her toward the door.

Nearly all of those 87 widows are gone now, but their “bishop” kept visiting them to the end. One night during the Christmas holidays some years ago, President Monson was making his customary rounds to “his” widows, leaving gifts purchased from his own pocket, including plump dressed chickens that were, in the early years, raised in his own coops. In one of the many Salt Lake City rest homes he has come to know so intimately, he found one of his ward members, alone and silent in the darkened room of a world made even darker by the onset of blindness. As President Monson made his way to this sweet sister’s side, she reached out awkwardly, groping for the hand of the only visitor she had received in the whole of the Christmas season. “Bishop, is that you?” she inquired.
“Yes, dear Hattie, it is I.”
“Oh, Bishop,” she wept through sightless eyes, “I knew you would come.”
They all knew he would come, and he always did.

A tree-lined road still follows the curves of the Mississippi River as it winds to the small town of Nauvoo. With a little more than a thousand residents, Nauvoo is so small and quiet that it often gets left off road maps. But with the temple construction, more attention is focused on Nauvoo, and the temple’s construction workers and their families have increased the number of Church members.
Lisa and Joanne Church are new Nauvoo residents. Their father is the temple engineer. They have a strong connection to both this temple and the one built last century. “My great-great grandpa Hayden Wells Church left his home in Tennessee and came to Nauvoo,” says Lisa, 17. “He heard the missionaries sing and was so impressed.”
“He came here and was baptized by the Prophet Joseph,” adds Joanne, 14. “It was hard for him to leave his home behind and come to Nauvoo. He’s such an example to me. His testimony made me want to come here and see the things he saw and share the feelings he felt.”
Ashlie Wilson also gets to share the feeling of one of her ancestors working on the temple, only this ancestor, her grandfather Charles Allen, is alive and well and working on the windows of the temple, including the unique red and blue star windows similar to those in the original temple. Ashlie was there when her grandfather was notified that he would be creating the windows. “I stood there when he told my grandma that he had the window contract. He said he felt so honored, yet humbled, at the job. Then he started to cry. I’d never seen my grandpa cry before.”

James Bowcutt, 18, of the Elgin Branch says the highlight of his service in the temple was having the chance to be baptized for some of his ancestors. For some time before the trip James carried with him the names of his earlier family members for whom he would be doing baptisms. “I could read the names and really get to know them. I actually felt that they belonged to me, and I was proud to have my family names in my hands,” he says. “I definitely felt a stronger connection with people beyond the veil.”

I made a new friend who was not a member of the Church, and he sometimes invited me to go to parties. These parties were the same day as Mutual, so I told him, “I’m sorry. I would like to go, but I have other plans.”
He asked what I was doing. I told him, “I’m going to Mutual.”
“What’s Mutual?” he asked.
I explained that we had a lot of fun activities at Mutual and that I was serving as a counselor in the presidency. After I turned down three invitations to his parties, he said, “Invite me to Mutual.”
So he came with me, the missionaries taught him, and he was eventually baptized.

For gymnast Kim McCauley, a 14-year-old from the Rockwall Ward, “someday” began when she was a toddler. She was walking at six months, running at eight months, and by the time she hit three, her parents decided they’d better find a way to channel her energy, or they’d be exhausted in the chase. They enrolled her in gymnastics classes, and today, she not only is a top competitor on her high school team, but she also uses her talent in her spare time to teach gymnastics classes for small children.

One Saturday a schoolteacher knocked on our door to talk to my father about my nephew. I found myself looking at a book he held, A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. Seeing my interest, he offered to leave the book. He also said I could attend a study group.
I spent almost the whole night scanning the book, stopping to take notes whenever I came across something new. Although I did not fully understand the doctrine, I felt no doubt about its truthfulness. I had a feeling of joy—as if I were discovering a genuine gem among thousands of imitations.
The next evening I joined five other people in a study group at the home of Mr. Kasongo. He had been doing research when he came across a book about American churches. “My heart pounded as I read the name of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” he said. After writing to the Church’s headquarters, he received some literature—including A Marvelous Work and a Wonder by Elder LeGrand Richards (1886–1983) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
For two years, our group met twice a week. When missionaries, Elder Roger L. and Sister Simonne B. Dock, arrived in March 1987, 50 people were studying together.
The Docks began teaching the missionary discussions in French in the public school. Because some people spoke only Swahili, I interpreted. I heard the missionary discussions for the first time myself while interpreting.
On 9 May 1987 I was one of 80 people baptized in a pool at an abandoned copper mine. For me, baptism was an outer confirmation of an inner conversion that had taken place years earlier. I had been waiting for this sacred ordinance so I could become a member of the Church.
I have received so many blessings—among them the time I spent translating for couple missionaries. They are as dedicated as if the Master Himself were physically beside them.
I thank my Heavenly Father for these rich experiences and for the opportunity my wife, Jolie Mwenze, and I have to raise our son in the Church. And particularly I thank Him for sending me the gospel—a gem beyond price.

The show ended with another hymn from the chorus. Then an eager crowd of young folks swept the chairs back to their appointed places, hooked up the record player, and swirled across the floor in near-perfect ballroom form.
“We heard that elegant dancing is coming back into style in the U.S.,” one brother said. “So we tried it here. We saw the BYU dancers perform once and admired them. Now we dance like this all the time.”

Media—whether good or bad—can be habit-forming. But it is a habit that can be broken. One woman who was “addicted” to watching daytime soap operas decided to rearrange her priorities and to stop what she felt was a time- and mind-wasting practice. She succeeded and later wrote: “Sometimes our whole family watches shows together, and it’s fun. But now I’m the master. When I want to invite newsmen, actors, or entertainers into my home, I do so. But it’s because they have informative and/or morally, spiritually, and emotionally uplifting programs to offer—not just because they’re there” (LeRee Farrar, “How I Kicked the TV Habit,” Ensign, March 1977, 19).

I love playing soccer and making stop-motion videos. Last summer, I turned 11 and was so excited that I could be ordained to the priesthood in a year. I decided to prepare. I became more sensitive to the Spirit and repented regularly. Soon after, President Nelson announced changes that meant I could be ordained before I turned 12! I was grateful I had prepared so that I could be ordained at the beginning of this year.
Atticus P., 13, Utah, USA

There’s not much sadness in her voice. No trace of anger. All the upheaval took place when Vani Tanumi had just learned to walk and talk, so she doesn’t remember any of it.
Her story about her parents is more matter-of-fact than anything. Her mom died before Vani turned two, and her dad left the family. Vani, age 19, has no recollection of her mom or dad. Fortunately, she was reared by Grandma and Grandpa, her mom’s parents. It’s the only life Vani has ever known, and so she smiles. She smiles because she is happy. Truly.
Despite the chaos in her life, Vani’s grandparents were able to give her the one thing she needed most: stability. And with that came one other thing she learned she couldn’t do without: the gospel. “The Church has been a great help to me,” she says.

I will share with you an experience I had before I was a General Authority which affected me profoundly. I sat in an airplane next to a man who so strongly expressed his disbelief in God that I bore my testimony to him. “You are wrong, I said, “there is a God. I know He lives!”
He protested, “You don’t know. Nobody knows that! You can’t know it!” When I would not agree with him, the man, who was an attorney, asked perhaps the ultimate question on the subject of testimony. “All right,” he said in a sneering, condescending way, “you say you know. Tell me how you know.”
I felt perhaps, that I had borne my testimony to him unwisely and was at a loss as to what to do. Then something came into my mind. I said to the man, “Let me ask if you know what salt tastes like.”
“Of course I do,” was his reply.
“When did you taste salt last?”
“When I just had dinner here on the airplane.”
“You just think you know what salt tastes like,” I said.
He insisted, “I know what salt tastes like as well as I know anything.”
“If I gave you a cup of salt and a cup of sugar and let you taste them both, could you tell the salt from the sugar?”
“Now you are getting silly,” was his reply. “Of course I could tell the difference. I know what salt tastes like. It is an everyday experience.”
“Then,” I said, “assuming that I have never tasted salt, explain to me just what it tastes like.”
After some thought, he said, “Well, I suppose you could say that it is not sweet and it is not sour.”
“You’ve told me what it isn’t, not what it is.” After several attempts, of course, he could not do it. He could not explain, in words alone, so ordinary an experience as tasting salt. I bore testimony to him once again and said, “I know there is a God. You ridiculed that testimony and said that if I did know, I would be able to tell you exactly how I know. My friend, spiritually speaking, I have tasted salt. I am no more able to tell you in words how this knowledge has come to me than you are able to tell me what salt tastes like. But I say to you again, there is a God! He does live! And just because you don’t know, don’t try to tell me that I don’t know, for I do!”
Since that day, I have never been embarrassed or ashamed that I could not explain in words alone everything I know spiritually. The Apostle Paul said it this way:
“We speak, not in the words which man’s wisdom teacheth, but which the Holy Ghost teacheth; comparing spiritual things with spiritual.
“But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned.” (1 Cor. 2:13–14.)

But Father and Stepmother made it difficult for me to attend church.

One day after I came home from a Young Women activity, Father stomped into the den, swore at me, grabbed my scriptures, and tore them into pieces. Flakes of white paper floated and drifted in the air, gracefully and gently landing on the floor, where my teardrops also fell.

It was like a nightmare I could not wake up from.

When I turned 21, I expressed a strong desire to serve a full-time mission. Father responded by disowning me. On Chinese New Year’s Eve, when most people went home to be with their loved ones, I was expelled from home.

On June 4, 1994, I reported to the Taiwan Taichung Mission as a full-time missionary. I pinned a black name tag on my coat, just like the elders who had come to visit my family years before. I was humbled. I was honored. I was blessed.

When Dallin H. Oaks was seven years old, his father got very sick. For six months, Dallin’s father stayed in the hospital while doctors tried to help him get better. During this time, Dallin, his mother, and his brother and sister all prayed a lot for his father to get better. Dallin’s father even had many priesthood blessings. Dallin’s family all thought his father would get well.
When the doctors said that his father was going to die, it was hard for everyone to understand why. Had they not had enough faith?
A few days before Dallin’s father died, his mother had a very peaceful feeling. She trusted Heavenly Father’s will. It was still really hard when Dallin’s father died, but she knew things would be all right.
Elder Oaks learned that when we have strong faith in Heavenly Father, we can trust Him. He can help us through any hard time.

In November 1999, my brother David and I were practicing our volleyball serves on a hill in our front yard. My six-year-old brother, Luc (Luke), was leaning on the screen in the window above the garage. He fell through it 13? (4 m) to the driveway. I ran in and told my mom and dad, and they came out and picked him up. No one knew he had landed on his head.
My mom took him to the hospital and called my dad half an hour later, saying that Luc’s skull was practically shattered. He was life-flighted to Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City, Utah. He was in a coma for three days. The doctors said that he had a huge blood clot behind his right eye. He couldn’t see for a couple of days. The doctors also said that he’d be in the hospital for two months.
While Luc was in the coma, our ward fasted and prayed for him. We fasted after sacrament meeting on Sunday until Monday night. People we knew in India and France did, too, even though most of them weren’t members of the Church. Luc woke up from his coma and got better and so did some other kids in the hospital. Luc was known as the “Miracle Boy.” He was in the hospital for only a week!
He’s OK now but has to go for a couple of checkups. I’m so glad that he survived his accident, and I know that fasting and prayer really work.