Gospel Story Finder

A mother wrote, “After October conference, in family council, we decided to earn some money not to spend it for Christmas, but to send it to missionaries. The boys, ages five and six, gathered cans for refunds, stacked wood, raked leaves, vacuumed the car, and swept the garage. Two-year-old Becky stacked wood and set the table. Mom gave piano lessons. Daddy cracked his piggy bank of eight years. One boy lost a tooth, and Daddy paid him a quarter for it. He promptly loosened and removed two more for an additional fifty cents! We are sending our total earnings ($81.85). It’s been a pleasure.”

He had not thought about the law of tithing, however, in his biblical study of Christ’s ancient church. It seemed a hard thing to give up one tenth of his income in his family’s difficult financial situation. “I don’t know if we can pay the tithing. Let’s wait until the Lord helps us (to be capable of paying), and then we will become members,” he told his wife.
His children and his wife helped him change his mind about putting off baptism. Daughter Angelina, then a teenager, had become convinced that the Church was true and wanted to join. She suggested to her mother that they plan a special birthday gift for her father—they would be baptized on his birthday, with him.
Ignacia Perez was not hard to convince. She had had a dream of her own. In it, a young man offered her a cup from which she was to drink. When she attended a sacrament meeting with her husband for the first time, at Angelina’s urging, Ignacia realized the cup in her dream had been a sacrament cup.
So she and the children studied the gospel with the missionaries, until finally she was ready to tell her husband, “We have a gift we want to give you for your birthday—but I have to tell you because it requires your consent.” He quickly gave permission, deciding then that they would simply find a way to pay tithing. He soon found it was not the difficulty he had imagined.
Ricardo and Ignacia Perez and their three oldest children—Angelina, Jorge, and Teresa—were baptized 26 January 1954. Their sons Israel and Victor were too young yet to be baptized, and their youngest son, Josue Ricardo, was not born until after the Perez family had been in the Church for three years.

On the night of May 22, 2011, amid the sound of blaring sirens, a massive tornado touched down in the heart of Joplin, Missouri, USA, destroying homes and lives. The Joplin First Ward was hit hard by the twister, but right away Bishop Chris Hoffman and the ward council started accounting for ward members.
“We had a response plan in place because we had talked about these preparations in ward council before they happened,” he said. “We also relied on the Spirit to know what to do. Power lines were down. Cell phones didn’t work. We prayed and listened for answers, and they came—they always came. It was gratifying for me as a bishop to hear members say, ‘This is what I’ve done,’ instead of, ‘What do you want me to do?’”

I got on a plane one day in Tonga. It was Saturday morning, the Sabbath of the Seventh-day Adventists. The head of the Seventh-day Adventists’ mission in the Pacific got on the plane with me. Down at the airport were his Sunday School children, giving him a send-off, singing hymns and so on. Well, we got on that plane Saturday morning, and we went to Samoa. When we arrived at Samoa, it was Friday, the day before we left Tonga. I just wondered how he was going to straighten out that “seventh day” business. He’d already had one Saturday, one Sabbath, and here he was again in Samoa on a Friday, the day before he’d had the Sabbath. The next day he had another. Now I tried to find him to ask him from which Saturday he was going to start counting the seven days. Well, these things happen. This is going on all over the world.

One young girl became famous for keeping the lights burning during a terrible storm. Abbie Burgess and her family lived at Matinicus Rock, off the coast of Maine, where Abbie’s father was the lighthouse keeper. On January 19, 1856, Captain Burgess sailed to town to buy supplies. He needed to buy oil for the lamps, food for his family, and medicine for his ill wife. He left Abbie in charge of the lighthouse.

Captain Burgess only expected to be gone for a few hours, but soon after he left, a huge storm came up that lasted four weeks, and he couldn’t sail home. During all those weeks, while her younger sister cared for their mother, Abbie kept the lights burning. All night she stood guard to make sure that not one light went out. She often had to scrape the ice off the windows so that the light could shine through. In the morning she would eat breakfast and then go to bed. When her father finally returned, he told Abbie, “Every night I watched for the lights. Every night I saw them. Then I knew that you were all right.” Like many lighthouse keepers over the years, Abbie Burgess was a brave and dedicated keeper of the light.

One of the most touching events I have ever witnessed took place at the auction three years ago. We had sat most of the day on aluminum bleachers, listening to the auctioneer’s bark, the crowd’s babble, and the animals’ bleating, mooing, and squealing. Suddenly we heard another sound—the wind pelting a freezing rain against the building.
Soon, in addition to parents and extended family attending the auction, we had many other people seeking shelter inside the metal livestock pavilion. They were quite surprised to find an auction taking place. Most were from the big city of Las Vegas and had never experienced a real animal auction before. They apparently found the auction entertaining, and a few even bid on animals. Of course, after the auctioneer explained that the price was per pound, the bidding slowed considerably.
Our boys’ pig came up for auction, and I remember feeling quite relieved when it was sold. All I could think of was getting home, away from the people, the noise, and the smell. It was still raining outside, so while I waited for my brother-in-law to get the car, I listened involuntarily to the auctioneer as he started the bidding on lambs.
A young girl brought out her lamb, and the bidding commenced. I don’t remember the exact amount, but I do remember thinking, “That’s a lot of money for a lamb.” Then a most amazing thing happened. The auctioneer explained that the person who had purchased the lamb was donating it back to the little girl to be resold. He went on to explain that this little girl’s father, who normally would have been there with her, was in the hospital. He had cancer, and the prognosis was not good. The family had no medical insurance, and the father was their sole support.
What happened next will burn in my mind and heart forever.
The bidding resumed, and again the little lamb was sold for an unheard-of amount of money. Again the lamb was donated back to be resold. About that time my brother-in-law returned, wet and windblown, but I couldn’t move. I told him something remarkable was happening, and though I tried, I could not stop my tears.
That lamb was sold again and again, and all those people, many of them from the city, were bidding and giving donations for that local family.
As I stood there in amazement, I couldn’t help but think of another lamb—not one that was sold again and again to benefit just one family, but One who allowed Himself to be sacrificed for all of God’s children. It seemed fitting that Easter was just around the corner. The Spirit bore witness to me that day of the significance of sacrifice in behalf of others and the importance of community.

My friends and I were doing a play. There was a girl nobody talked to. My friend said something mean about her, and I did too. I felt really bad about it. The next day my friend made fun of her again. I said, “Maybe she needs a friend.” I went and talked to her. I told her she was doing a good job. She smiled for the rest of practice. I was glad I could make her day a little brighter.
Lauren C., age 11, Utah, USA

I can still remember the storm that first Sunday of September 1989. I was living in the Cadiz Ward of the Cadiz Philippines Stake. The skies filled with great, black clouds, and rain poured down.
Sacrament meeting started punctually at 9:00 A.M. I looked around the chapel and saw that most of the benches were empty. In fact, only five people were in attendance. It was hard for the members to get to church in the rain, especially those who lived far away.
A few more people filtered in while we were singing the opening hymn. More continued to arrive while the names of new ward members were being read.
When we began to sing the sacrament hymn, I looked around again. I was surprised to see an unusually large congregation of about 100 people. I looked at the two brethren breaking the bread for the sacrament. Something was troubling them—I could tell by the looks on their faces. The hymn ended, and one man knelt to offer the blessing on the bread.
To my surprise, after the prayer the men at the sacrament table did not proceed immediately. Their heads remained bowed for a moment. Then they started handing the trays to the Aaronic Priesthood holders. The young men also had sober looks on their faces as they accepted the trays. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer too.
After the sacrament had been passed, the bishop gave the members time to bear their testimonies. The first person to come to the pulpit was one of the men who had blessed the sacrament. He spoke of the great love God has for all His children. I felt my bosom burn within me as I listened. I was filled with joy and gratitude for my testimony that God lives and that He does love us.
This speaker was followed by his companion at the sacrament table. In an emotional voice, he told us that we had witnessed a miracle that day. He explained that the bishop had brought only two small rolls of bread for the sacrament. Since the rains were heavy, he probably expected the congregation to be smaller than normal.
Then the members began to flood in. The two men knew that no matter how they broke the bread, there wasn’t going to be enough. So after the sacrament prayer, they said another prayer and told the Lord there were only about 40 pieces of bread to serve 100 people or more. They asked for divine intervention.
Then the bread was passed to the people. The two brethren watched carefully as every person desiring to do so partook of the sacrament. There was enough for all.
As we learned what had happened, the congregation was silent for a few moments. The Spirit could be felt so strongly that nobody wanted to break that silence. Tears filled our eyes.
The silence was finally broken by the voice of our bishop, who stood to tell us how blessed we were to have the priesthood of God. With God, he said, nothing is impossible. Heavenly Father moves in mysterious ways to bestow blessings on His children. If we pray in faith, He hears our prayers and answers them.

I knelt with my own family, at the conclusion of a great family home evening, the night before our lovely daughter was to be married in the temple. I think she wouldn’t mind my telling you that after we had laughed and wept and remembered, she was asked to pray. I don’t recall much of her prayer, the tears and the joy and the sweetness, but I remember one thought: she thanked God for the unconditional love she had received. This life doesn’t give one very many chances to feel exultant and a little successful, but I felt wonderful that night, and thank God that she really believes and understands what she said. We cannot, my dear brethren, condition our love by a beard or beads or habits or strange viewpoints. There have to be standards and they must be enforced, but our love must be unconditional.

When I was in college, I went on a study abroad to the United Kingdom. At the time, I was really struggling to feel close to Heavenly Father. I went to sacrament meetings and church on Sundays, and I went to Catholic mass and a beautiful, quiet Quaker meeting. I went often to Evensong, a lovely Anglican choral service. I was looking for any place I could feel peace. I read prayer books in cathedrals and spoke the Apostles’ Creed with people whose beliefs were, in many ways, so close to mine. And I found God again.
I felt so much love and truth in those spaces. The message I got was that if God loved all His children enough to give them so much truth and beauty, then He also loved and knew me.

I would like to share a simple story that has strengthened my commitment to be honest in all things:
“A man … went one evening to steal corn from a neighbor’s field. He took his little boy with him to sit on the fence and keep a look-out, so as to give warning in case any one should come along. The man jumped over the fence with a large bag on his arm, and before commencing to take the corn he looked all around, first one way and then the other, and not seeing any person, he was just about to fill his bag. … [The boy then called out]:
“‘Father, there is one way you haven’t looked yet! … You forgot to look up.’”
When we are tempted to be dishonest, and this temptation comes to all of us, we may suppose that no one will ever know. This story reminds us that our Heavenly Father always knows, and we are ultimately accountable to Him. This knowledge helps me continually strive to live up to this commitment: “[I] believe in being honest.”

In an area where everybody—even Old Bob—had to hunt to survive, food was getting scarce.
Eleven-year-old Hoagie had not missed a target with his rifle-gun for almost a year. “One bullet is all Hoagie needs!” his younger brother, Ira, boasted.
After a long search, they saw a big rabbit scurry through the brush, but Hoagie could not shoot. When the two boys discovered later that Old Bob had devoured the rabbit, Hoagie was furious. He leveled his gun at the bobcat and learned an important lesson about life and survival.

Now I would like to tell you of a little experience I had in the mission field that illustrates what I think the Lord meant when he indicated that not only would the Prophet bring forth His word, but he would bring men to a conviction of His word that had already gone forth among them.

When I was in Holland, I was invited to talk to a Bible class of businessmen. We met in the home of a prominent furniture dealer. There were about twenty men; each had his Bible. The only woman there was the daughter of the man of the house. They gave me an hour and a half to discuss universal salvation, which includes our work for the dead, preaching in the spirit world, and baptism of the living for the dead. I just gave them chapter and verse and let them read the passages in their own Bibles. Then when I was through, I closed my Bible and waited for comments.

The first comment came from the daughter of the man of the house. She said: “Father, I just can’t understand it. I have never attended one of these Bible classes in my life that you haven’t had the last word to say on everything. And tonight you haven’t said a word.”

The man shook his head and said: “My daughter, there isn’t anything to say. This man has been teaching us things we have never heard of, and he has been teaching them to us out of our own Bibles.”

I could tell you many more stories like that!

She thinks all children should remember that when you have problems, you can always turn to your Heavenly Father in prayer. Sometimes it takes patience. Her brother Jérôme had worked very hard and saved money to buy a bicycle. When it was stolen out of the Roth’s garage, he prayed every day that he would get his bike back. After three months of praying every day, he felt impressed to go play in an area where he’d never gone before. He found his bike there. Samantha knows that Heavenly Father helped her brother find his bike. She knows He helped her find her brother Semjon. And she knows that although He doesn’t always answer prayers the way we want Him to, He does listen and answer everyone’s prayers.

For Bill and Linda Hamm of Anchorage, Alaska, USA, the work presented a personal challenge: they were called to serve as humanitarian service missionaries to oversee tsunami relief efforts in Indonesia. “We were exhilarated by the challenges and overwhelmed by the opportunity,” Brother Hamm said.
The Church focused on helping Indonesia and its people take a simple step forward, a step away from tragedy and pain, a step toward reestablishing life. While these efforts played just a small part among the many individuals and organizations that offered aid to the tsunami victims, the missionaries were able to share their love, the love of the members, and the pure love of Christ.
“We were not permitted to proselyte, but we were representing the Lord and tried to share our testimonies through our work by being kind, polite, or simply by smiling,” Sister Hamm said. “Sometimes we had the opportunity to explain where the funds came from, and we told about our prophet and how he called for a 24-hour fast, with the money that would otherwise be spent on food to be donated to a special fund. I think the Spirit bore witness and they understood that there were individuals around the world who loved them.”

While I was growing up in Korea, my father allowed his children to attend the church of our choice, but often during dinner we disagreed about our different religious beliefs. Because of this contention, my father wanted to unify our family’s religious beliefs. Since my younger brother was going to meetings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints with my uncle, my dad began attending meetings with them to learn more about the Church. I also attended and was impressed by fun Mutual activities and how the seminary program strengthened young people spiritually.
When I was 16, my parents and I were baptized, and the rest of our 23 family members and relatives joined the Church within seven months.

A woman I know was struggling with anger toward someone who had hurt her and her family. Though she told her children not to become embittered and resentful, she fought those feelings herself. After weeks of entreating her Father in Heaven, she finally felt a change. She related: “One day, in the midst of my nearly constant prayers, the healing came. I felt a physical sensation spread through my body. After, I felt a sense of security and peace. I knew that regardless of what happened, my family and I would be all right. The anger left me and so did my desire for retaliation.”

The living water is the gospel of Jesus Christ; its communicator is the Holy Ghost. My friend knew what was right. She had said the appropriate words to her family. But only when she humbled herself enough to drink of the water—to feel the Holy Spirit—could she begin to heal.

I still remember vividly some of the long flights I made during my professional life as an airline captain.
In one of them, I would take off in Germany at 11:00 a.m. and touch down in California at 1:00 p.m. on the same day. Comparing the local departure and arrival times, it might appear that a flight across the Atlantic Ocean and the North American continent took only two hours. The Boeing 747 was fast, but not that fast! In reality, it took us about 11 hours, depending on wind, to travel the 5,600 miles (9,000 km).
Because we were flying west, the sun never set during our flight. We enjoyed broad daylight all the way from Germany to California.
Returning to Germany, however, was a totally different story. Even when we took off in the early afternoon, as we flew east, the sunset came more quickly than it normally would, and before we knew it, night was upon us.
During these long flights, my soul was often filled with awe as I pondered the beauty of this earth and the order of God’s creation. Even while flying at night, in complete darkness, I knew with certainty that the sun would rise again, that bright light would return and bring warmth and life to a new day before our journey’s end. The circumstances of my flight might have made it seem like the sun was setting more slowly or more quickly, but I knew that the sun remained constant, steadfast, and reliable in the heavens.

When our son Nathan turned two and a half, we began using occasional time-outs as a consequence for breaking family rules. I became concerned, however, by the negative feelings my son displayed when a time-out concluded. He often seemed sad and discouraged. As I prayed for a way to make the experience more positive, I felt impressed to say the phrase “Let’s try again.”
After the next time-out, I took my son’s hand and said with enthusiasm, “Let’s try again!” Suddenly the focus shifted away from his negative behavior and centered instead on the opportunity he had to start over. I was amazed at the difference this approach made. Instead of coming out of time-out feeling punished, he was eager to make better choices.
I soon started using the phrase in a multitude of situations. I found myself inviting Nathan in lots of ways: “Let’s try again! This time we can do better. This time we can be gentle” or “This time we can be kind.”
The saying became such a motivator for my son that during a time-out he often called to me, “Mommy, I am ready to try again!”
As I pondered the dramatic effect this simple phrase had on my son, I considered the power contained in the words “Let’s try again!” I realized that God, the Father of us all, does not want us to dwell hopelessly on the mistakes we have made. Instead, He invites us to sincerely repent and focus on a brighter future where we can improve each day. To make repentance possible, God was even willing to offer the life of His Beloved Son. His promise is: “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool” (Isaiah 1:18).
Watching my son’s renewed determination to do better, I felt a surge of gratitude for a loving Father in Heaven, who is merciful to His children when they repent. I also felt a deep appreciation for the Savior, whose infinite Atonement makes it possible for each of us to say, “Let’s try again!”

Now I must tell a little of what happened there. You remember that was as far as I had promised to go with them. From the station there we were taken to the headquarters of the Mormon mission in Norway, at Osterhausgaten No. 27. While we were there, they held a meeting in that hall, and my parents wanted me to go into the meeting. But I wouldn’t go in. You remember I said before that I was bitter. There was a lady there who saw that I did not go in. She said, “If it was my boy, I would whip him till the blood ran down into the heels of his shoes.” I heard her say it, but I thought she would have to be a good runner to catch me for I was light on foot.

Now this is how they got me to go farther. They knew what I had said before I left home in Ringsaker, and my sister Agnete had said that if I didn’t go, she wouldn’t go any farther either. Father went out to a hat store and bought my brother Mathias and myself each a nice brown hat and gave them to us. He said nothing but looked sorrowful. When I saw my parents looked sorrowful, I remembered what I had read in the Bible: “Honor thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God gavest thee.” I consented to go with them. Then they cheered up, and I have never regretted it.