Gospel Story Finder

When Amy R. decided to read the Bible all the way through, her first thought was, “Wow, this is going to take so long.”
It was 2006, and Amy had just finished President Gordon B. Hinckley’s (1910–2008) challenge to read the Book of Mormon. Because she felt so good when she accomplished her goal, she decided to read the Bible next.
“When I first opened the Bible, I thought maybe it was too much,” Amy says. “But I also knew that if I never started the Bible, I would never finish the Bible.”
Amy began reading a little bit every night, just as she had done with the Book of Mormon. She did that for the next two years.
Sometimes Amy’s schedule was busier than usual. Sometimes at night she was tired and just wanted to go to sleep. But even when these things happened, she kept going.
There were times when Amy didn’t understand what she was reading. She would pray to Heavenly Father and ask Him to help her understand. Amy says those prayers were always answered. She also says reading the scriptures helped her know how to use words such as Thee and Thy when she prays.
In December 2008, when she was 10 years old, Amy finished the Bible. As a special Christmas gift, she wrote a letter to her dad about her experience. When her dad read the letter, his eyes filled with tears. “I almost felt like crying too because I was so happy,” Amy says. “I knew I had done a good thing.”
Does Amy have a favorite verse from her reading? No, but she says she often thinks about the people in the scriptures.“Knowing stories from the scriptures has helped me with my problems,” Amy says. “When I start feeling bad for myself, I compare my problem to the problems of the people in the scriptures. That helps me to have a better attitude and be more thankful about my situation. The scriptures have changed my life and helped me be happier.”

In 1856, two handcart companies, with 1,075 pioneers under the leadership of James G. Willie and Edward Martin, left later in the year than planned, and they encountered early winter storms in present-day Wyoming (see Kate B. Carter, comp., Heart Throbs of the West, 6 vols. (1939–51), 6:360–61).

Peter Howard McBride, then but a boy of six years, was a member of the Martin Company. His father, after helping push handcarts through the icy river, died in the snow and freezing cold that night. Peter’s mother was sick; his older sister Jenetta watched out for the younger children. Her shoes had worn out, and her feet left bloody tracks in the snow. On the banks of the Sweetwater River the wind blew their tent down during the night. Everyone scampered out as the snow covered the tent—everyone except little Peter. According to his account: “In the morning I heard someone say, ‘How many are dead in this tent?’ My sister said, ‘Well, my little brother must be frozen to death in that tent.’ So they jerked the tent loose, sent it scurrying over the snow. My hair was frozen to the tent. I picked myself up and came out quite alive, to their surprise” (Peter Howard McBride, quoted in Susan Arrington Madsen, I Walked to Zion, 41, 43, 45–46).

Fun. The Bakersfield California Stake wanted to come up with an activity so fun that non-LDS and less-active youth wouldn’t be able to stay away. And that’s just what happened when they threw a stake youth “Almost Anything Goes Olympics.”
Each ward made up a team and chose a country to represent. They all met at a park by a local lake and let the fun, and water balloons, fly. Along with traditional activities like tug-of-war and egg tosses, they had events like a mattress race, where six of the strongest ward members transported the smallest perched on a mattress, and the Holey Trash Can Fill, where some team members rushed to fill a punctured trash can with lake water, while their teammates tried to plug the holes with fingers, toes, knees, and even heads.
The best-loved event was the canoe race. A barbecue and dance finished off the day.
Each ward was a winner in one category or another and received a plaque. But the youth felt that the real winners were the 15 less-active and 10 non-LDS young people who shared in the fun. Many have returned to other Church activities.

I met Paulo on a hot day in southern Brazil. Church meetings had ended, and the meetinghouse was almost empty except for a few members sitting in the hallway. My husband, then serving as president of the Brazil Curitiba Mission, was meeting with Edson Lustoza Araújo, the district president from Guarapuava, in Paraná.
“Sister Paulsen,” said Brother Jason Sousa, who was serving as a counselor to my husband, “did you notice the brother sitting in the hallway with mud on his boots?”
Many roads in southern Brazil are made of red dirt, so mud on shoes is common.
“You mean the thin, dark-haired man in his late 20s?” I asked.
“Yes, his name is Paulo Tvuarde. He walks to church almost every Sunday, except when the mud is so thick that he can’t make it. He’s been doing that for 14 years—since he was 15.”
“How far does he walk?” I asked, unprepared for Brother Sousa’s response.
“Oh, 40 kilometers,” he said matter-of-factly. “He leaves at 3:00 a.m. to make it to church on time. It takes him eight hours.”
Quickly converting kilometers to miles, I realized that Brother Tvuarde walked 25 miles to attend church in Guarapuava!
“Why would he do that?” I asked incredulously.
“Because he believes that the Church is true.”
“Well, of course,” I said, a little embarrassed at the obvious answer. “What I meant was, why does he have to walk that far?”
Brother Sousa explained that Paulo lived in the country, taking care of the family farm so that his 74-year-old mother, who had a heart condition, could live in Guarapuava, where she received medical attention. President Lustoza was her cardiologist.
“Paulo lives by himself, plows the fields, and feeds the few animals that they have,” Brother Sousa said. “There is no electricity or running water. The farm is eight kilometers from the nearest bus stop. Worse than that, the bus doesn’t run on Saturdays or Sundays. So he walks to church.”
President Lustoza, who had entered the room with my husband, said Paulo usually attended three out of every four weeks. “He doesn’t miss unless the roads are impassible,” he said. “He stays overnight on Sundays so he can take the bus back on Monday.”
If Paulo attended church three out of every four Sundays, then he spent more than 300 hours walking nearly 1,600 kilometers (1,000 mi) each year just to attend church!

When I was a young missionary in Tonga, my companion and I went to help a grandmother who was tending her very sick young granddaughter. It was Christmas Eve and very hot in Tonga. The child had a high fever and the grandmother had been caring for her. For several days and nights she had been placing wet cloths on the fevered brow, giving her water and fanning her, trying to reduce the fever.

We gave the child a Priesthood blessing. The fever continued so we told the grandmother to get some rest and we would care for her granddaughter. As the night wore on we became very tired and decided we should alternate each hour, with one of us caring for the child and the other one getting some rest. We set an alarm clock and began. I remember taking my turn from 2:00 a.m. to 3:00 a.m., then waking my companion to take his turn while I laid down to rest.

The next thing I remembered was feeling sunlight streaming into my eyes. I jumped up and asked, "What time is it?" ?Six o'clock." ?You were supposed to wake me at four. Why didn't you?" ? He smiled broadly and replied, "Oh, you looked so tired. I turned the alarm off and decided to let you sleep. Merry Christmas." ? He glowed with goodness. As a deep feeling of love and gratitude washed over me, I knew I was looking into the eyes of one filled with pure Christlike love. Later that morning the child's fever broke and all was well.

Marni Adams has friends all over the United States. Every month, they get together and talk about gospel subjects, ideas for Mutual activities, and what they’ve read in the latest issue of the New Era. No, Marni doesn’t travel a lot, and she doesn’t have a huge phone bill. Every month, Marni and her friends “chat” on their computers.
“Our group includes people from all over the country,” says Marni, a student at Ricks College. “Only a few have actually met in person, but even those who haven’t are still great friends with each other.”
Known as “Smilin’ Sue” on the computer, Marni says that through advanced technology, people who would have never become friends otherwise now really love each other.
“Probably the best thing about making friends on the computer is that appearances and age don’t matter. It’s a lot easier to really get to know people,” says Marni.

I was in the Navy at the end of World War II when I was a very young man. My training took place near San Diego, California. Everyone in the Navy had to know how to swim, or they wouldn’t let him out of boot camp (training camp). I had learned to swim as a boy and could do it quite well.

One day an officer said, “All of you who can swim get to go to San Diego for the day. Those who can’t must have a full day of swimming lessons. So those of you who can swim, line up over here, and we’ll put you on a bus and take you into town.” I lined up with the swimmers—there were about 30 or 40 of us. But instead of having my group get on a bus, the officer marched us into the gym, where the swimming pool was.

I thought, You’re mixed up, fellow. We’re the ones who can swim. But, of course, I said nothing. We prepared for swimming and were ordered to jump into the deep end of the pool.

Most of us obeyed, but about 10 men in our group didn’t know how to swim. They had thought that they could go to San Diego without measuring up. The officer didn’t let them just stand there—he pushed them into the water. He let them go under the water, come up gasping for air, and then go down again. When they came up for the second time, a big bamboo pole was held out to them, and they were pulled to safety. Then the officer said sternly, “Don’t you ever lie to me again!” I tell you, I was glad I hadn’t tried that! The experience taught me the value of being honest and true to yourself at all times.

Although my husband and I came from families with religious and moral principles, we were not satisfied with the way our own family of five was progressing spiritually. I attended the same church we had been reared in, accompanied by our three children—Beverly, Janice, and Ralph. My husband, Raúl, didn’t go to church because he thought that all churches were businesses. He thought they were highly commercialized and that many of the leaders profited from the members’ donations. He also believed religious literature should not be purchased but should be given to people who are interested in it.
In February 1986 my husband chanced to see two Latter-day Saint missionaries walk by our house, and he called them over. His intent was to ask them if the church they represented was interested in buying a lot to build a meetinghouse on. My husband is in the real estate business, so he saw this meeting as a sales opportunity.
The missionaries were not able to give him any information on that matter, but they didn’t miss this chance to ask him if they could set up an appointment for a discussion about the restored gospel. My husband was certain this was just another church like all the others he had come in contact with before, so he asked them to come back the next day. He intended to show them that their church just used God to do business.
We received the missionaries the next day with a bit of suspicion. But as they proceeded to talk to us about the Church and its history, we began to feel something very special in our hearts. When they left they gave us copies of the Book of Mormon, and my husband asked how much he owed for them. To his surprise, the books were free. His surprise was even greater when he realized that this Church was not a business. He became interested and started asking the missionaries all kind of questions.
We went to church every Sunday after that, and by 15 July 1987 our whole family had become converted. We were baptized and later were sealed for eternity as a family in the temple. Our son, Ralph, served as a full-time missionary and later married in the temple. Our two daughters have married returned missionaries in the temple, and we now have nine beautiful and healthy grandchildren.
My husband and I have served in many callings in the Church and have continued to grow spiritually and to help the gospel grow in our branch, located in the southern part of our beautiful isle of enchantment, Puerto Rico. My husband has presided over the Salinas Branch twice. The work has been hard, but we know that our example as a branch has left many seeds scattered over our little town.
What more could we ask of our Heavenly Father? Our gratitude is eternal. What started as a simple sales conversation and an effort to prove the Church was a business came to be the greatest possible celestial transaction for our family—the opportunity to be united with each other, with our Savior Jesus Christ, and with our Heavenly Father.

I am overjoyed that you have shed some light on sexual abuse (“Hidden Agony,” Mar. ’92), a subject often left in the dark. I was investigating the Church two years ago, but even though I knew it was true, I felt I was not worthy to receive the blessings given to Heavenly Father’s “clean” children. Later, my bishop approached me and I was ready for him to tell me to repent. Instead, he told me Heavenly Father loves me and this was not my sin. Then he gave me a blessing and I had an overwhelming feeling of comfort. Six months later I was baptized. I feel pure and new again, and my fiancé and I are now looking forward to a temple marriage.
Name Withheld

“When I was 10 years old, my family became refugees in a new land. I had always been a good student in school—that is, until we arrived in West Germany. …

“Because so much of the curriculum was new and strange to me, I fell behind. For the first time in my life, I began to wonder if I was simply not smart enough for school.

“Fortunately I had a teacher who taught me to be patient. He taught me that steady and consistent work—patient persistence—would help me to learn.

“Over time, difficult subjects became clearer—even English. Slowly I began to see that if I applied myself consistently, I could learn. It didn’t come quickly, but with patience, it did come.”

I’m pretty hard-core into athletics, especially basketball. I just like to compete. And that is partly why I had to face an eight-hour open-heart surgery at 14 years old.
I was born with a defect in one of my heart valves. At first, the doctors said I would probably need surgery when I was old—after I retired, maybe. But over time, the problem got worse, largely because of how intensely I play sports.
During one visit in the fall, the doctor said I’d probably need the surgery in the next year or two. In the meantime, I ran cross-country at school. But instead of my running times getting better, they got worse. That’s how I knew there was something really wrong.
We visited the doctor again in March. During the visit, I felt like I should get the surgery even sooner than we had planned. I started to get a warm spiritual feeling inside. That personal revelation brought me some comfort. Suddenly I heard myself saying that I wanted the surgery as soon as possible. My parents were a bit scared at first, but I told them, “I’m at peace. How soon can we do this?” We scheduled the surgery for April.
In hard times, I know Jesus Christ is always there for me. I can always pray to Heavenly Father, and it helps.
I had faith that everything would work out, but the day of the surgery was still scary. It all hit me at once, walking into that room. I remember shaking. My anesthesiologist really helped me in that moment. I’m grateful for all the people who helped me through that whole experience. I also had heavenly help. For example, my entire ward held a fast for me, and I really felt the power of fasting and prayer.
These days my heart is doing great. If I hadn’t had the surgery, I could have died within two years. Now I have a full life expectancy.
This whole experience has changed my perspective. I see everybody differently as they go through their trials. I feel greater empathy for them. I’ll occasionally see someone and sense that they’re dealing with something tough, and then I go over and help them.

Now I have a message that I hope to have inspiration to convey to you brethren. And I would like to tell of a little incident that happened to a great member of the Church in Germany, Karl G. Maeser, a great educator, a doctor of education, a man of great dignity and wisdom. It was he who founded Brigham Young University.
Under the direction of President Brigham Young he went to Provo, with the simple instruction that he was to found the university and to teach not even the multiplication tables without the Spirit of God. Beyond that, Brigham Young said, “Good luck and God bless you.” Brother Maeser had been converted here in Europe. This man of great dignity and prestige was a very humble man, and his attitude seems to me to characterize what we should be as holders of the priesthood.
I mention two incidents: On one occasion he was going with a group of young missionaries across the alps. They were crossing a high mountain pass on foot. There were long sticks stuck into the snow of the glacier to mark the path so that travelers could find their way safely across the glacier and down the mountain on the other side.
When they reached the summit, Brother Maeser wanted to teach the young elders a lesson. He stopped at the pinnacle of the mountain and pointed to those sticks that they had followed. And he said, “Brethren, behold the priesthood of God. They are just common old sticks, but it’s the position that counts. Follow them and you will surely be safe. Stray from them and you will surely be lost.” And so it is in the Church. We are called to leadership positions and given the power of the priesthood. And we are just common old sticks, but the position we are given counts. It is separate and apart from us, but while we hold it, we hold it.

Mom, look!
“You’re invited to Dante’s birthday party!”
Can we go get Dante’s present now?
OK. But we don’t have much money for gifts.
Can we get this?
I’m sorry. We don’t have enough.
How about this?
Well, Dante does like candy bars …
Besides, your friendship is the best gift you can give.
Is a candy bar enough? Maybe it would be better if I didn’t go.
At the party …
Cool! Thanks, Hannah!
I LOVE these! Thank you, Ben!
Really?
Yeah, they’re my favorite!
Thanks for coming to my party! I’m glad we’re friends.
Mom was right! Friendship is the best gift of all.

Six years into marriage, we found that we were expanding our family. We were so excited to raise our son and teach him the gospel. But 24 weeks into the pregnancy, our little boy was born fighting for life. After just eight weeks he returned to Heavenly Father. As I held him for the last time, I recognized yet another wonderful blessing of the temple: our son had been born in the covenant and could be ours forever.

Missionary work was also the emphasis in camp. Chris Johnson had been instrumental in introducing the gospel to her best friend and her friend’s family. Chris had yearned for her friend to grow in the gospel until she could bear her testimony to a group. In a small testimony meeting with the Adventurers, Chris said, “I do have a strong testimony. I love the Book of Mormon with all my heart. Missionary work strengthens you so much. “Then Chris heard her friend bear her testimony for the first time. “She told me that she loved me, and she trusted me. She said she knew she is a child of God. I’ve waited so long to hear that.”

Name a town?
In a small town in Kentucky, USA, the very first postmaster didn’t think much of his own handwriting. He figured that if a town had a number as its name, then it’d be easier to read and understand that name on an envelope even if somebody had bad handwriting.
He reached into his pocket, counted the loose change (88 cents), and Eighty Eight, Kentucky, was born. The town name stuck and has been used ever since.1

On another occasion, when Governor Carlin of Illinois sent Sheriff Thomas King of Adams County and several others as a posse to apprehend the Prophet and deliver him to the emissaries of Governor Boggs of Missouri, Sheriff King became deathly ill. At Nauvoo the Prophet took the sheriff to his home and nursed him like a brother for four days (Cannon, p. 372). Small, kind, and yet significant acts of service were not occasional for the Prophet.

For the next couple of months I was able to pay all of my expenses after paying my tithing. Then came another month when there was again not enough money to cover both rent and tithing. I paid my tithing. I knew that Sister Knight did not have any more trees to be cut, and I was concerned that I should pay the rent promptly. On the Friday evening before the rent was required, a local radio station in Provo announced a program called “Movie Merry-Go-Round” in which a prize would be offered to anyone who could answer questions regarding one of the movies then playing in Provo. I listened to the program and thought I might try to win the prize. That evening, the radio announcer offered $18 and two free movie tickets to the first person who could give the license number of a car that had been used in a brief scene in a recent movie. Miraculously, or at least so it seemed to me, I saw clearly in my mind’s eye the scene that the radio announcer referred to. I saw it with such clarity that I could read the license number. Once again I had sufficient funds to pay my rent.

Most musicians don’t take up a new instrument and play a concert tour nine months later—especially if they’re 12 years old. John Mitton, a Salem, Oregon, deacon, started on the piano at five and added violin study at six. It wasn’t until September 1974 that he went to work on the organ, but he proved so adept that he spent last summer touring Europe, giving more than 50 concerts.
John, accompanied by his teacher, William Fawk, traveled throughout Germany, Austria, Italy, Switzerland, France, and Denmark playing the works of Bach, Purcell, Lubeck, and others.
In Austria, John played at the 10th century Abbey of Seckau near Vienna, and his concert was broadcast throughout the country. He was also a guest of the Vienna Boys’ Choir and attended music classes where they were studying a Beethoven mass. John was invited to return and play a concert with the Choir this summer at the Imperial Chapel. In Palermo, Italy, one of the cathedral directors took away the wine glass customarily given organists, noting that a “Mormon organist,” as John was referred to throughout his tour, wouldn’t need it.
John and his teacher were honored at a dinner given by the U.S. Consul General of Italy before a concert at the six-manual organ at the Monreal Basilica. Throughout his tour John received invitations from music professors as well as the public to return for additional concerts.
Prior to his tour John got some good experience playing before an audience as the Salem Fourth Ward Primary organist. He also played at many Church meetings and community programs. John also plays the violin in his school orchestra and keeps up his piano study.
But music doesn’t occupy all of John’s time. He’s studying Spanish. He’s a ham radio buff and substitutes frequently on a paper route. Last summer John and other Salem Scouts did a 50-miler, camping five days near the beach and hiking out every day. Of course, music was one of John’s first merit badges.
John’s interest in music is part of a family tradition. His great grandfather, Samuel Bailey Mitton, was a tabernacle organist, and one of his compositions, “Awake! O Ye People, the Savior Is Coming” is in our hymnbook. His mother, the former Ewan Harbrecht, was a soloist with the Tabernacle Choir and toured Europe 20 years ahead of John. Sister Elizabeth, 17, is a violist; brother David, 15, is a cellist and bass guitarist; and Esther, 6, is following John on the piano and organ.
John is planning on serving a mission for the Church. He also would like to study organ on the college level and perhaps teach someday. Motivation is no problem for him. “Playing the organ is a challenge; it’s also a rewarding experience. My parents and teacher never have to make me practice. I do it because I know I’ll get better. Having the opportunity to tour Europe is a real incentive in itself.”
Last summer John and his family visited Salt Lake City and met Tabernacle organists Alexander Schreiner and Roy M. Darley and former director of the Tabernacle Choir J. Spencer Cornwall. Brother Cornwall told John that he was endowed with a great gift and must be humble and grateful because it is a gift from the Lord.
At home in Salem, John is practicing baroque pieces two hours a day on his stake center’s organ in preparation for this summer’s concert tour. He’s looking forward to playing some of the world’s most magnificent organs as well as enjoying some of his favorite foods—bratwurst, Wiener schnitzel, and pommefrites, the German version of an American favorite, French fries.

“When I was a member of the branch in Colonia Suiza, Uruguay, my first calling was as a Primary president when I was 13 years old. I was the president, and I was the teacher also. I remember being set apart and given a manual, and the assignment was to teach to the children the lessons and the gospel. I opened the manual, and I didn’t know what to do, how to teach a lesson. So I prayed. I said, ‘Heavenly Father, I need to teach the lesson to the children next Saturday. Wilt Thou help me?’ And I received the influence of the Spirit, and I learned to teach because the Spirit taught me.”Sister Delia Rochon