Gospel Story Finder

On a dusty, hot day in 2014, I visited a camp for internally displaced people in northern Iraq. Located just miles from the borders of Syria and Turkey, the camp was filled with mostly Yazidis women and children driven from their homes and villages by the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS).

In this camp the women had found shelter, water and a daily loaf of bread. Still, many had worn the same long white dresses since arriving in the camp; the dresses were a visual symbol of their deep religious identity and their Yazidis faith.

I felt an immediate connection to those women, who had suffered for their faith and refused to take off the dresses that represented their beliefs.

Their physical and emotional suffering was tremendous. One woman told me with the help of a translator that she wondered if she would be better off dead.

The same woman wept when a Muslim surgeon and a Latter-day Saint Charities volunteer presented her — and many other Yazidis women — with a new white dress. Fundamental to helping her through the crisis was learning where she came from and what she believed. She needed more than food, water and shelter to become whole. She needed her religion. And her God – and ours – saw her and sent a surgeon and a volunteer of different faith traditions to bring her a miracle. [25]

Those who feel accountable to God, honor Him by reaching out to His children.

Several years ago, a student disclosed a problem to me that they felt should be addressed with their bishop. However, they said that they needed to get the problem resolved first before they met with him. This noble student was trying to take responsibility for their problem (which is admirable), but they got it backwards. Seeking help before the problem is fixed is much more noble and effective than hoping we can fix it on our own and not sharing our burden. I encourage you to test this principle by picking a problem you have and asking for help in solving it. See what happens.

In his ward Dale met a young woman named Ruth. She was the daughter of a member of the stake presidency, Merlin R. Lybbert, who later served in the Seventy. Dale’s recollection is that he mustered the courage to ask Ruth out on a date, but she said no. When he tried again a few months later, she said yes. Ruth’s version is a little different. She remembers that when he spoke in sacrament meeting about his mission, she was impressed. They got better acquainted, and she was thrilled when he asked her to go on a date, but she was hosting a party that required her to decline. She was pleased to accept when he asked again.

This typical young couple, only a few hectic years into their eternal marriage—only two children away from the eternal vows they had made in the holy temple of God—were each going a separate way. Their ideas of life were different as to spiritual matters (as well as many others)—one wishing to move along almost to what the other thought was fanaticism and the other moving along in a path that the other spouse thought to be almost apostasy; and both were wrong.
They talked about it and lost their tempers and drew farther and farther away from their common goal. Both were good people basically, but they needed unburned telephone poles and untangled wires of communication that were now sagging. Their inability to communicate in reasonableness led to anger, hard words, misunderstandings.
In time, each found another person and set up different communication lines for sympathy and understanding and comfort; and this disloyalty led to physical adventures that resulted in adulteries and two broken homes and disillusioned spouses and crushed hopes and injured children.
And all this because two basically good people let their communication lines get down and permitted the security poles to drag the ground. This is not one couple, it is tens of thousands of couples who started out in a blaze of glory, sweet felicity, and an interresponsibility and with the highest of hopes.

When Babe was about eight years old, she earned money for a harmonica by cutting some neighbors’ grass. It was so high that she had to cut it with a sickle before she could mow it. When she got the harmonica, she practiced for hours and hours. Her brothers played the drums, two of her sisters played the piano, her other sister and her father played the violin, her mother sang, and Babe played her harmonica. Even when she was older and famous for her athletic prowess, she was good enough to play her harmonica in public.

Lucy was curled up in a corner of her bedroom when her mom came in to say good night.
“What are you doing over there, Lucy?” Mom asked.
“I just wanted to be alone to think,” Lucy said, burying her face in her favorite blanket—the yellow one with flowers that had belonged to Mom when she was a little girl.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Mom asked, sitting down in the rocking chair.
Lucy nodded and climbed up on Mom’s lap. “I was thinking about Grandma Eliza,” she said quietly, rubbing her blanket across her eyes.
“Oh,” Mom said, rocking her gently. “You know, Grandma Eliza is in heaven now. I think she must be very happy there.”
Lucy sniffed. “I know,” she said. “But I miss her, and I’m not happy that she’s gone.”
“I miss her too,” Mom said as she stroked Lucy’s hair. “Why don’t we pray about this?”
“OK,” Lucy agreed. With Mom’s help, Lucy prayed, “Dear Heavenly Father, I feel sad that Grandma Eliza died, and I miss her. But I know she’s in heaven and she’s happy, and I know that I’ll see her again when she’s resurrected. Please help me not to feel so sad. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
After she said “amen,” Lucy sat quietly for a moment. Then she had an idea. “I know what to do! Aunt Emma told me that singing Primary songs helps her feel happy. Maybe we should do that!”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Mom said.
Together, Lucy and Mom sang “I Am a Child of God,” “I Love to See the Temple,” and “I’m Trying to Be like Jesus.” When they finished, Lucy said, “I feel happy now, Mom.”
“The Holy Ghost helped you know what to do so you would feel better,” Mom said.
Lucy smiled. “I know. Heavenly Father answered my prayer.” Now as she thought about Grandma Eliza, she felt like her favorite blanket was wrapped around her heart. She was comforted.
“I love you, Mom,” Lucy whispered before she fell asleep. “And I love Grandma Eliza too.”

It is easy to be selfish.34 Let me share with you a story from my marriage. Since Sister Clark does not have a selfish bone in her body, this is another story about me.
Sue and I met here on this campus. I am so grateful to Heavenly Father that He helped us find each other. We were married in June 1971.
Fast-forward a few months. One day I came home from school and turned on our tiny black-and-white TV to catch the Red Sox game. I sat down and opened up a book I needed to read. Soon Sue came home from work. We said hi to each other, and then she went into the kitchen. Then I heard cupboard doors being slammed with great force.
I walked into the kitchen and asked her what was wrong.
She looked at me and said, “Nothing.”
I persisted, and then she taught me the lesson of a lifetime. I had acted selfishly, and I did not even see it. I had been raised in a home where I had always been given a list of chores to do. I had been taught how to iron, cook, sweep, do dishes, and clean, but I thought Sue would just tell me what to do. She helped me understand that she wanted our marriage to be a full partnership, and she wanted me to step up and take some responsibility for our home. I realized that sitting around watching the Red Sox in the afternoon must have seemed pretty selfish to her. That was literally a life-changing moment.

Nine-year-old Brian had just returned from the baptism of his friend Jeremy. “I wish I could be baptized again, Mom,” he said as he visited with his mother in the kitchen.
“Baptized again? Why?”
“Jeremy is lucky. He is clean because he hasn’t made any mistakes since he was baptized. I wish I could be baptized again.”
Mom was surprised. They had had a family home evening about baptism and renewing the baptismal covenants by partaking of the sacrament. Brian had also learned about baptism in Primary. But it seemed that he still didn’t understand some things. …
She sat down with him at the kitchen table. “Brian, you know that each time we partake of the sacrament, we renew our covenants with the Lord. I know that you listen carefully to the sacrament prayers. What are the sacred promises we make?”
“Well, we promise to take Jesus’ name upon us. I think that that means that we promise to not do anything that would bring shame or dishonor to His name.”
“That’s right. What else do we promise?”
Brian reviewed the words of the prayers in his mind. “That we will always remember Him and keep His commandments.”
“Good. What are some ways in which we can always remember Him?”
“Sister Cassler taught us in Primary that we can ask ourselves, ‘What would Jesus want me to do?’ whenever we have a choice to make. I know that that works, because it helped me to be patient with Jenny when she broke my toy car the other day.”
“I’m pleased that you were such a loving big brother. When you are kind and patient, you show that you remember Jesus and are keeping His commandments. He taught that we should partake of the sacrament in remembrance of Him. And as we do, we gain a remission of our sins. Remission is a big word. In this case, it means that we are forgiven for the mistakes we make, if we are truly sorry for them and sincerely try to not repeat them. Before we partake of the sacrament, we should prepare ourselves spiritually. We can do that by correcting the mistakes we have made. That is called repentance.”
“You mean that if I correct the wrong things I have done and try to always remember Jesus and keep His commandments, when I partake of the sacrament, I can be just as clean as when I was baptized?”
“Yes, indeed.” Mom smiled. “We can be washed clean through obedience to the laws and ordinances of the gospel of Jesus Christ. The sacrament is one of those ordinances. We don’t need to be perfect before partaking of the sacrament, but we must be sincerely repenting of the things we have done wrong. During the sacrament service, we think of the Savior and all that He has done for us. We sing a hymn before the sacrament is blessed, which helps us to feel reverent and to remember Him. As it is passed, we can review the things we have done in the past week and look for ways to improve. Partaking worthily of the sacrament brings the blessing that our Heavenly Father promises us at baptism—to always have His Spirit to be with us.”
“So I don’t need to be baptized again! I can be clean again each week as I worthily partake of the sacrament. The sacrament helps me remember my baptismal covenant. Thanks, Mom!”
With a big smile and a hug for Brian, Mom replied, “We can show our thanks to the Savior, Jesus Christ, by keeping our baptismal covenant and partaking worthily of the sacrament each week.”

Scritchy-scratchy, scritchy, scritchy-scratchy.
Jimmy awoke with a start. “What is that noise?” he asked out loud.
“It must be Kitty,” he cried, jumping out of bed. He ran through the hall and out the front door to find Kitty.
Jimmy ran around the house, and there he saw Kitty lapping milk from a saucer on the back porch.
Kitty licked the milk off her whiskers and stared at Jimmy a moment. Then she quietly returned to her milk. Lap, lap, lap.
Jimmy shook his head. If it’s not Kitty, it must be Spotty, he decided. And away Jimmy ran to find his dog.
Spotty was burying a bone near the shrubs. “Woof,” he barked. His paws made a soft poosh, poosh sound as he dug into the wet ground.
“It’s not Kitty and it’s not Spotty. Maybe it’s Baby Brother,” Jimmy said to himself as he ran into the house.
Mother and Baby Brother were in the kitchen. Baby Brother was sitting in his high chair. Bang! Bang! went the spoon as Baby Brother hit the tray. He waved his arms and wiggled.
Ker-sploosh! Down went his cereal bowl. Clatter! Bang! Plop!
“You make a lot of noise,” Jimmy said, “but it’s not a scritchy-scratchy sound.”
Mother picked up the cereal bowl. “Jimmy, why are you running around in your pajamas and bare feet?”
“I’m trying to find what woke me,” Jimmy answered.
“Maybe it was the sun shining in your window,” Mother suggested.
Jimmy shook his head. “The sun doesn’t make any noise.”
“What kind of noise did you hear?” Mother asked.
“It was sort of like Kitty scratching on something, but Kitty is lapping her milk,” Jimmy replied. “And it was a little like Spotty when he is scratching, but Spotty is burying a bone in the soft ground.”
Mother smiled. “Let’s go back in your room. Maybe I can help you find it.”
So Mother lifted Baby Brother out of the high chair, and they all went to Jimmy’s bedroom.
“Sh-h-h,” said Mother.
“Sh-h-h,” said Jimmy.
They listened quietly. Soon they heard the noise.
Scritchy-scratchy, scritchy, scritchy-scratchy.
“That’s it,” whispered Jimmy.
Mother smiled. “Come look out the window.”
Jimmy tiptoed to the window.
“Look up under the eaves of the roof,” Mother whispered.
Jimmy looked and he saw a little bird building a nest.
Jimmy and Mother and Baby Brother watched the bird fly away. Soon it returned, carrying dry grass and a twig in its beak. The scritchy-scratchy sounds began again as the bird worked at building the nest.
Jimmy smiled happily. “Will there be eggs in the nest?” he asked.
Mother nodded. “Tiny speckled eggs.”
“And will there be baby birds?” Jimmy questioned.
“With their mouths wide open, waiting to be fed,” Mother told him.
“I can hardly wait!” Jimmy exclaimed. “That will be great! I have Kitty and Spotty and Baby Brother, and now I’ll even have baby birds to watch. I have just about everything!”

A message in the ward WhatsApp group informed members that brother Laveti’s daughter was admitted into the intensive care unit of a hospital. A few minutes later, I received a call asking me to visit the family immediately.
I left for the hospital. I saw the little girl lying down on a bed surrounded by doctors. The doctors struggled to diagnose her as they could not find the reason for her sickness. I prayed all along for the little girl. I felt inspired to give her a blessing. So I went into the ICU, where only doctors, nurses, and patients’ attenders are allowed. But trusting in God, I went inside. The security at the gate did not stop me nor did he ask me any questions. Brother Laveti was surprised to see me inside the ICU. We decided to give his daughter a priesthood blessing. Brother Laveti anointed and I acted as the mouthpiece to bless the child who was struggling with much pain, agony, restlessness, and even had a hard time breathing. With faith and as the Spirit prompted, I blessed her and soon after the blessing I had a very special and strong feeling that a “great miracle” would take place. I shared the same feeling with Brother Laveti. Soon after the blessing was pronounced on her, the doctors were able to find out the real cause for her sickness and started giving her the right treatment.
This was the “real miracle,” and it happened with the holy and sacred power of the priesthood that we brethren hold. The whole family was greatly comforted.

Gustavo, the Soareses’ oldest child, remembers the night when, as a boy, he disobeyed his parents and slipped away to check out an annual celebration in their São Paulo neighborhood known as Festa Junina.

“I was in the middle of a large crowd having a good time when I heard an announcer call me up to the front,” he says. “That’s when I saw my dad.”

His parents had been worried sick, but rather than scold Gustavo, Ulisses hugged him tight.

“We had a serious conversation about me getting lost, but my parents treated me with respect,” Gustavo recalls. “I felt protected, and I knew that they really loved me.”

Understanding and communicating clearly and kindly with youth are also critical, he adds. “When I was 13, I was called as the deacons quorum president. Our branch president took a few minutes to find a classroom and meet with me, out of the hallway, and tell me what I needed to do. He gave me wonderful instruction of what was expected of me, both by him and by the Lord.

“Do you know how many deacons we had in our class? Two. But he still took the time to prepare himself and prepare me. That was 50 years ago, and I still remember how it touched my heart. He wanted me to succeed. He gave his personal attention and time. He gave kind but direct instructions, and he followed up.”

One day at school, I was in a hurry to get to my math class, and my locker wouldn’t open. I hadn’t had any trouble opening my locker all year, so I was surprised I couldn’t open it. Right then the hall monitor walked by and opened my locker. I got my books and realized that if I walked into my math class, I would be tardy, so I went to find the hall monitor. She gave me a back-to-class pass. Just as I turned the corner, there was a girl in the hall sobbing because some girls had pulled a mean prank. I didn’t know her very well, but I gave her a hug, and she hugged back. I was amazed that the only time my locker jammed was that one day when a girl could use a hug. I think it is amazing that the Lord puts you in certain situations to help others.

Crack!
“Oops …”
“Ah! Why me?!?”
“Mami, what’s wrong?”
“Abuela is sick.”
“Why is everything so hard? Why are so many bad things happening?”
“I think we could both use a walk.”
“Oh, Eduardo, it’s going to be OK. But remember what the Lord says: ‘Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee’ (Isaiah 41:10).”
“Will Abuela get better?”
“I hope so, but I also believe that Heavenly Father knows what’s best.”
“Thanks, Mami. I needed that.”

“As I watched the tray come down my row, I couldn’t help feeling embarrassed. This Sunday would be the first time in my life I hadn’t been worthy to partake of the sacrament. The tray was quickly coming closer to me, and I was drowning in feelings. What would my parents think when I didn’t take the sacrament? My little brother and sister? I was supposed to be their example.
“When the tray came to me, I quickly passed it on, bowing my head. I felt as if everyone in the chapel was looking at me.
“The week before, I had talked to my bishop. I entered his office and started crying in shame before I even sat down. As I told him everything I had done, I thought he would be angry with me or say I had no hope of being forgiven. Instead, I noticed he was crying too. He let me know he was very pleased I had come to him. It felt good to know that he had been called by the Lord to help me with my problems. It felt good to know that I had someone to talk to while trying to apply the principles of the Atonement in my life. I knew I could trust the bishop and I could share my feelings with him.
“When I finished talking with my bishop, he told me he loved me. ‘I am going to help you as much as I can to get through your problems,’ he said. At that moment I knew everything would eventually be all right.
“My first time not taking the sacrament was hard, and I have to relive that experience every Sunday until the bishop tells me I can once again partake. But I am grateful to have the blessing of repentance in my life. I know I can be clean again through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Because of this experience and the struggles I am going through, I never want to be unworthy again. Not partaking of the sacrament is hard. But it has helped me more fully appreciate my Savior’s sacrifice for me.”

A few years ago Sister Packer and I were in Washington, D.C., to represent the Church at an awards banquet held in the reception hall of the Department of State. The elegant and stately surroundings, with a priceless collection of antiques and memorabilia, were impressive. Here, for instance, hangs the painting of George Washington by Gilbert Stuart and other priceless works of art. Both the occasion and the setting were ideal to make reference to the spiritual heritage of our country. And what was the program? A large brass section from one of the service bands played at great length, and with deafening volume, music from Jesus Christ, Superstar.

I sat next to a lovely, dignified woman, the wife of an officer of the government. When the crescendo weakened for a moment I was able to ask, by raising my voice a bit, if she was able to hear them all right. Her obvious amusement at the question soon changed to serious disappointment, as she asked in return, “What would Jesus think?”

A few years ago, our family gathered to discuss where we should spend our Christmas vacation within our country. Two of my children—both energetic and outgoing—wanted us to stay in a hotel in Kenema. My wife and I understood their excitement, but we also knew how that choice would affect our savings and limit our ability to extend help to needy family members. Kenema is where many of our extended relatives live and also a place where they value culture. Christmas has always been a time when we try to open our arms to those who may come to visit.
What started as a simple decision soon turned into repeated strain. The children who wanted the hotel stay felt misunderstood; the others felt opposed for thinking differently. Small communication has broken down here. Some days my wife and I felt indecisive, wondering whether we were failing as parents—especially because the conflict was beginning to overshadow the spirit of the holiday.
We prayed and counselled together, searching for a way to honour our children’s desires while also teaching the deeper principle of balancing personal enjoyment with charity. Eventually, we found a middle path: a simple Catholic guesthouse with enough room for all of us, affordable enough to preserve what we needed to bless others, yet still giving the children the feeling of being “away” for the holiday. It was not exactly what anyone originally wanted, but it was something that honoured everyone’s needs.
During that period of tension, I spent many moments on my dialogue. One day, as I prayed, a calm feeling settled over me. A thought entered my mind—gentle but clear. It reminded me of something President D. Todd Christofferson has taught that parents are called not merely to keep peace in the home but to lead their children toward higher principles—and that true discipleship often requires deliberate, loving correction, patient teaching, and choices that reflect eternal priorities rather than momentary desires.
He teaches that families grow stronger when parents guide with purpose, helping children learn to choose what builds faith, unity, and compassion—even when those choices require sacrifice.
Remembering that helped me breathe again. It reminded me that our role was not to please every wish but to guide our children toward Christlike balance—toward understanding that joy, charity, and family unity can and must coexist.
And as we moved forward with love and steady leadership, hearts softened. The arguments faded. And our family grew closer—not just because we found a place to stay but because we learned, together, what President Christofferson teaches so often: that true happiness in families comes when love, sacrifice, and discipleship walk hand in hand.
“Love them first. Teach them second.”
That night, instead of teaching them about obedience or respect, I gathered all of our family and expressed how much we loved them. I shared memories of my childhood, their kindness, and the joy they brought into our home. To my surprise, they softened. One of them began to appreciate sharing gifts and coordinating plans to assist when the opportunity arises. Our family grew stronger not by avoiding conflict but by facing it with love and the help of the Lord.

I sat in the celestial room of the temple, contemplating the direction my life was taking—certainly off course from what I’d planned. As with many other young adults, worries monopolized my mind: How could I balance good grades and a social life? Should I quit my job? find a second one? How could I save money when I didn’t have any? Why wasn’t I married yet? The list went agonizingly on and on. I had gone to the temple seeking comfort, praying for the assurance that my life was in Heavenly Father’s hands. “Is everything going to be all right in my life?” I questioned. The answer came swiftly and surely to my mind: “All is well.”
In that moment, I understood that even though my life wasn’t going as I had planned, it was still going according to His plan and He was in control. That sweet assurance that He is aware of and taking care of me, even if He doesn’t always take away my trials, has carried me through many hardships. As we come to understand, seek, and wait for these assurances, we can know that the Lord supports us through the burdens placed upon us.
After my experience in the temple that day, my trials didn’t lessen. I didn’t suddenly have perfect grades or more money or a lot of dates. But what I did have was a calm assurance that despite my trials, I would be OK because the Lord still intended on keeping His promises to deliver me. With that assurance I know that all is well.

These funny boys are serious about choosing the right and serving others. When their grandpa had cancer, they not only prayed for his recovery but also rolled up their sleeves and took care of his garden. They grew corn, cucumbers, broccoli, chili peppers, onions, peas, tomatoes, beets, some odd-looking carrots, and three pumpkins destined to become jack-o’-lanterns. The eggplants died, but nobody minded much, because Grandpa lived.

La Verne California Stake
As the 100th birthday of the El Buen Pastor Church in Pomona, California, approached, the congregation had concerns about the state of its building and premises. Looking for a chance to help a neighbor, the youth of the La Verne California Stake decided to pitch in and spruce up the church for its celebration. El Buen supplied the paint and the LDS youth came with a willing attitude, painting the church’s exterior in only four hours. The youth tore out old carpet, sanded and repainted the pews, and landscaped the grounds. Many members of the El Buen Pastor Church were touched by the service, and one parishioner, a member of the Pastor Church for more than 60 years, said she was so grateful to the LDS youth who restored their church to its former beauty.