Gospel Story Finder

I believe Heavenly Father saw me heading in the wrong direction during high school and reached out to me by inspiring my parents. They noticed that I wasn’t myself anymore and that a lot of the light I used to have inside was missing. So, my mom asked if we could start having one-on-one scripture study together every night. I agreed, even though I hadn’t personally studied the scriptures for a while.
At first it felt like reading a chapter each night wasn’t making much of a difference; however, after a few months, I looked back and realized how far I’d come in strengthening my connection with God. I noticed an increase in my baseline level of happiness, and it became easier to let go of those friends who weren’t good influences.
Refamiliarizing myself with the scriptures has been a great blessing. I especially love the story of Alma the Younger and his incredible change of heart (see Alma 36:6–24). In my scripture journal I wrote this about his story: “God freely forgives anyone who repents. All we have to do is reach out. Those who leave the path are welcome back as soon as they make an effort to return.”

After graduation, I began to hang around three girls who weren’t LDS. As our friendship grew, I started smoking. I felt like life had no meaning, so I didn’t care that what I was doing was wrong. I couldn’t understand why I was on the earth, and figured I was probably better off dead. After a while, we went our separate ways and I vowed I would never smoke again. But many of my other feelings didn’t change.

Emmanuel introduced his younger brother, Stephen Abu (their last names differ because of Ghanaian traditions in naming children), to the gospel while Stephen was visiting in Accra. After his baptism, Stephen returned to Abomosu, their isolated home village, and began to “organize” his own family, as he says, teaching them the gospel. His teaching extended to friends, and when missionaries were finally sent to the village, there was a group of people waiting to be baptized.
From that beginning came the Abomosu Ghana District, which now has more than 600 members. With two branches in the village, Latter-day Saints are a significant portion of the population. Two miles up the road, a new meetinghouse is under construction for the branch in Sankobenase.

Pretend that it’s a beautiful summer evening and you have been playing outside with your brothers and sisters. Now imagine that your mom calls to you and asks you to tell them to come in for dinner. You are speaking for your mom, delivering a message for her to your family. Will they listen?

Marla rolled onto her back and looked through the stretching pine branches above her at the feathery clouds. She breathed deeply of the mountain air and tried to capture the sights, the sounds, and the smells all at the same time.
“Come on, Marla,” her father called as he began pulling tent stakes out of the ground. “Time to pack up.”
“How come camping trips never last long enough?” his daughter asked.
“I’ve always wondered that myself,” Dad replied, “but they do end and I need your help.”
“Just five more minutes?” Marla pleaded. “I want to be able to remember it all winter long.”
Dad stopped his packing and looked up to where Marla stared. “You should soon be helping your mother with the dishes,” he reminded her.
“Please,” Marla asked again.
“Well, all right, if I may join you for a minute.”
“Sure,” Marla agreed and scooted to one side of the blanket to make room.
“What do you see up there?” her father asked as he lay down beside her.
“Pine trees with stickly green needles, a blue sky with white feathers, and singing birds swooping through it all,” Marla answered, sighing.
“It’s a miracle,” Dad said.
“What do you mean?” Marla looked at her father.
“Well, look around us. It’s all part of a big plan. Everything functions separately, yet works together to make a whole big universe.”
Marla thought about that as she watched clouds floating like ships in the blue sky. Finally she spoke, “Yes, I guess it is a kind of miracle. A great miracle, really. But it all happens so quietly around us that we usually forget how miraculous the plan is.”
Marla felt as though her mind would burst with so many beautiful thoughts and sights and sounds being experienced at once.
“What do you think the greatest miracle in the world is?” Dad asked.
“That’s easy,” Marla answered, “the sky. Look how it goes on and on forever, always changing. Today it’s blue, but some days it’s white or gray. Snow and rain fall from it and at night the stars are suspended in it.”
“But is it Heavenly Father’s greatest miracle?” Dad asked.
Marla thought for a minute. “I don’t know.”
“Well, our five minutes are up. You think about it while we pack, and when you have an answer, let’s talk about it again.”
“All right,” Marla agreed, helping Dad fold the blankets.
Soon they were back home and settled, but Marla didn’t forget what she and Dad had talked about on their camping trip. As she walked to and from school each day she watched for miracles. Everything seemed like a miracle. Even cars and airplanes were man-made miracles. But she couldn’t decide what the greatest miracle was.
Then one day she noticed that the leaves were changing colors on the trees. She was so excited that she could hardly wait to tell Dad. Hurriedly she ran the rest of the way home.
“Mother! Mother! I know what the greatest miracle is,” she cried, rushing into the kitchen. “Where’s Dad? I want to see if I’ve guessed right.”
“He’s in the backyard,” Mother answered.
Marla dropped her books down on the table. “I’ve been looking for three weeks, but now I’ve got it, and I’m going to tell Dad.”
“Calm down,” Mother cautioned, “or he won’t be able to understand a word you say!”
“I know what the greatest miracle is,” Marla declared without even waiting for Dad to say hello. “It’s the seasons, isn’t it—the way the leaves change colors and then the snows and then the way everything comes to life again? That’s the greatest miracle.”
Dad smiled. “That is a great miracle, probably one of the greater miracles, but I don’t think it’s the greatest,” he said.
“But there are so many miracles!” Marla protested.
Dad gave Marla a hug. “I’m proud of you for still thinking about miracles. You keep looking and you’ll find the right answer,” he assured her.
Now Marla was more determined than ever. She was curious to know what could possibly be a greater miracle than the sky or the seasons. So the next Saturday she looked extra hard.
“Don’t bother me, Snowy,” she said to her cat as it brushed her legs for attention. “I’m looking for a great miracle.” But as she spoke, she noticed that Snowy wasn’t trying to play. The cat darted across the patio and into the window well so Marla followed her. “Oh, my goodness, Snowy!” she exclaimed, dropping to her knees to look more closely at what she saw. “You have some brand new kittens! They must have been born last night.”
Marla watched with a quiet kind of excitement as Snowy licked and fed her kittens.
“Five little kittens and all of them just like you,” Marla whispered as one furry ball tried to open its eyes.
Just then Dad came out of the house. “Look!” Marla whispered. “I know this must be it.”
Dad leaned over the window well and peered in, smiling.
“Birth,” he said, “is part of the miracle. But there’s another very important part.”
“But what can be more miraculous than new life? I remember when little Jason was born. One day we didn’t have a Jason and the next day we did. That has to be the miracle.”
“It is, it really is,” Dad said. “But the other part of the miracle is even greater. And you are getting very, very close to it.”
“Close enough to be warm?” Marla asked.
“Close enough to be hot!” Dad answered, smiling.
Marla’s face drew into a questioning frown, then suddenly eased into a wide smile. “I know!” she exclaimed. “Not only are we born but we’ll go on living forever—all of us will.”
“Yes,” Dad agreed, “but now can you guess what the rest of the miracle is?”
“I think I know,” Marla said, her eyes sparkling with wonder at her discovery of the rest of the greatest of all miracles. “We are Heavenly Father’s spirit children. Is that it?”
“That’s it!” Dad said, hugging Marla close to him. “And just as you and Jason are our earthly children, we are His heavenly ones. You once lived with Him like you do with your mother and me now, and together we can all live with Him again. That is the greatest miracle of all.”
Marla felt all warm and tingly. It had been exciting to discover what the greatest miracle is, but at the same time she had a strange feeling that she’d really known about it all along.

It has touched for good the lives of millions who have prayerfully read it and pondered its language. May I tell you of one such I recently met in Europe.
He was a businessman, successful in his undertakings. In the course of his travels he met two of our missionaries. They tried to set up an appointment to teach him. He put them off but finally agreed to listen. He somewhat perfunctorily accepted what they had to say. He became convinced in his mind that they spoke the truth, but he was not moved in his heart.
He decided that he would read the Book of Mormon. He said that he had been a man of the world, never given to crying. But as he read the book, tears coursed his cheeks. It did something to him. He read it again and felt the same emotions. What had been conversion of the mind became conversion of the heart.
His way of life was altered, his perspective changed. He threw himself into the work of the Lord. Today he fills a high and holy calling in the cause he has come to love.

The two holdouts, Christina and Kristin, could not believe what was happening to their friends. First it was Tiffani (who had not yet been baptized, though they assumed it was inevitable), then Catlin, and now Sara. But Christina and Kristin decided they weren’t going to let religion come between them and their best friends, so they supported their friend Sara by attending her baptismal service.

Christina also experienced something completely unexpected at Sara’s baptism. Even though she had told Sara that she wanted to take the missionary lessons, she had started to doubt her decision. When she came to Sara’s baptism, Christina was still undecided. But when she met one of the sister missionaries who had taught Sara, her Christlike love erased all of Christina’s doubts. Suddenly she knew she wanted to join the Church. So Christina returned home to California, took all the discussions, and was baptized a month later, with her friend Sara in attendance at the service.

At church, I was called as a ward clerk and later as a counselor in the bishopric. I couldn’t believe that someone in a wheelchair could serve. My accident had made me feel useless, but working in the Church made me feel useful and helped me realize I could contribute. I love the opportunity to grow closer to Jesus Christ as I serve.
As a counselor in the bishopric, I wanted to be guided so I could be better at my calling. That made me want to prepare more for each Sunday. I got into the habit of reading my scriptures, and I had opportunities to bear my testimony. Being a leader at church even helped me become a leader at work. I built up the feeling that I could lead and speak up, allowing me to lead in other areas.
“Working in the Church made me feel useful and realize that I could contribute,” says Posenai. “I love the opportunity to grow closer to Jesus Christ as I serve.”

When my mom was sad and tired, I told her that she was a child of God and Heavenly Father and Jesus love her and care about her. Then my mom said, “You are right, Emma. I am a child of God.” That made me feel glad.
Emma H., age 10, Idaho, USA

One Thursday morning, while preparing breakfast, María had a strong feeling that she should fast and pray that Carlos would listen to the missionaries again. “At that very moment, I began my fast,” she says.

Amazingly, two missionaries dropped in for a visit that afternoon. “It had been a long time since missionaries had come to our home,” she says. “I told them I was fasting that very day for Carlos. They said, ‘Sister, we will fast with you. And we are going to baptize your husband! When can we come back?’”

María asked them to return the following Monday evening, because that was the only day Carlos didn’t go to one of his clubs after work. On Monday, she and the two missionaries began another fast. She hadn’t told Carlos anything about the appointment she had made.

When Carlos came home from work that day, he announced that he was going to the club to play tennis. “I felt so disillusioned?” says María. “He never played tennis on Mondays. And I was sure he wouldn’t return until very late. I didn’t know how to ask him to stay. So he went.”

At 6:30 P.M., the missionaries came. Crying with embarrassment and disappointment, María explained that Carlos wasn’t home. “We are fasting for him!” she said. “How could it have turned out this way?”

Meanwhile, the person Carlos had arranged to play tennis with didn’t show up. And neither did anybody else! “There was nobody to play with,” he remembers. “It was very strange. So I went home.”

The missionaries were still there—and, for some reason, Carlos felt like talking to them. That started six months of serious studying.

There is an oft-repeated theory that people who are lost walk in circles. Not long ago, scientists at the Max Planck Institute for Biological Cybernetics tested that theory. They took participants to a thick forest and gave them simple instructions: “Walk in a straight line.” There were no visible landmarks. The test subjects had to rely solely on their sense of direction.
How do you think they did?
The scientists concluded, “People really [do] walk in circles when they do not have reliable cues to their walking direction.” When questioned afterwards, some participants self-confidently claimed that they had not deviated in the slightest. Despite their high confidence, GPS data showed that they walked in loops as tight as 20 meters in diameter.
Why do we have such a hard time walking in a straight line? Some researchers hypothesize that small, seemingly insignificant deviations in terrain make the difference. Others have pointed to the fact that we all have one leg that is slightly stronger than the other. “More likely,” however, we struggle to walk straight ahead “[because] of increasing uncertainty about where straight ahead is.”
Whatever the cause, it is human nature: without reliable landmarks, we drift off course.

Each week during the sacrament
I sit with Mom; Dad, too.
My brothers do not sit with us—
They both have special jobs to do.
My oldest brother sits up front
To bless the water or the bread;
As brother kneels to say the prayer,
I fold my arms and bow my head.
My other brother, this one 12,
Walks reverently this way.
He carries bread, then water cups
In special silver trays.
My brothers show me what to do
Each day in every hour.
I look forward to the time
I’ll join them both in priesthood power.

President George Albert Smith’s mother knew the Lord’s will; he told this touching incident of being taught to pray: “I was trained at the knee of a Latter-day Saint mother. One of the first things I remember was when she took me by the hand and led me upstairs to the bedroom. In the room there were two beds, the bed in which my parents slept, and a little trundle bed over on the other side. I can remember it as if it were yesterday. When we got upstairs she sat down by my little trundle bed. She had me kneel in front of her. She folded my hands and took them in hers and taught me my first prayers. I shall never forget it. I do not want to forget it. It is one of the loveliest memories that I have in life: an angelic mother sitting down by my bedside and teaching me to pray … That prayer opened for me the window of heaven. That prayer extended to me the hand of my Father in Heaven, for she had explained to me what it all meant, as far as a little child could understand …” (Sharing the Gospel with Others (Deseret Book Co., 1950) pp. 147–48.)

I am an inmate at the Utah State Prison. Last year I got a card from my mom and dad that said they were giving me a year’s subscription to the New Era. I told them that it was a waste of money, considering where I was. But I soon changed my mind when I received my first copy and learned what it was all about. I love the New Era. It makes me feel good inside when I read it. It helps me come closer to God, and it gives me a better attitude about life. I want to say to all the youth of the Church that it is for you that your parents tell you to be home by 10:00. All the things they tell you will help you. If I had done all that my mom and dad told me, I would not be here in prison. I pray that you will all listen to your parents and stay close to your Father in heaven.
Name Withheld

How can one see the slackening of traditional moral standards and not notice the decline in decency? As a boy I saw how all, young and old, worked and worked hard. We knew that we were taming the Arizona desert. But had I been wiser then, I would have realized that we were taming ourselves, too. Honest toil in subduing sagebrush, taming deserts, channeling rivers, helps to take the wildness out of man’s environment but also out of him. The disdain for work among some today may merely signal the return of harshness and wildness—perhaps not to our landscape but to some people. The dignity and self-esteem that honest work produces are essential to happiness. It is so easy for leisure to turn into laziness.

Sister Gemma Godivala of Aylesbury Ward, Watford Stake, has recently launched into a new career, working as a celebrant for funerals.
Despite the uncertainty of work during the time of COVID-19, she boldly undertook her training, and then made the decision to leave her role in a local school and become self-employed in her company, Reflection Funerals. She has a website and is on social media.

Since being in the Dominican Republic, we have had several experiences where members and friends of the Church have approached us and told us they were, or had friends who were, members. One Saturday, we walked into a jewelry shop that sold locally crafted jewelry. When the lady behind the counter saw our badges, she immediately said she had family who were active members of the Church. We had a wonderful exchange with her as we made a few modest purchases. nullA few weeks later, while at a mango festival in Bani, Dominican Republic, a young member, about missionary age, saw our badges and came up to greet us and welcome us to his city. We talked about missions with him and felt his warm and welcoming spirit. We could easily see him serving the Lord wearing his own missionary badge. We continue to be blessed by the people we meet because of the badges we wear and who we represent. The power of the badge continues to touch hearts as missionaries throughout the world strive to declare through word and deed “that there is no other way or means whereby man be saved, only in and through [Jesus] Christ” (Alma 38:9).

Elder Alexander Dushku’s parents joined the Church in Boston, Massachusetts, USA, after visiting the World’s Fair in New York City in 1964. His father was spiritually moved by what he learned about the gospel in a Church-sponsored pavilion, and he invited missionaries to teach him and his soon-to-be wife.

Erin stood on Temple Square in Salt Lake City looking at life-sized statues of the nativity scene and waiting for the music and story to begin. Christmas lights twinkled all around her. But it didn’t feel like Christmastime.
“Are you all right?” Mom asked her.
Erin nodded, but she wasn’t so sure.
Only a few days ago, a boy from Erin’s class at school had died in a car accident. She had seen a lot of people crying at the funeral, and she had cried a lot herself. She hadn’t known the boy that well, but Erin knew his family loved him as much as her family loved her. She felt scared to know that something like that could happen to someone her age.
Now she didn’t feel excited for Christmas. She felt worried all the time—scared to get in a car, scared to be apart from her parents, scared to leave her house in case something bad happened to her while she was away. All the Christmas lights on Temple Square couldn’t erase the worried feeling inside her. How could she be happy in a world where she wasn’t always safe?
“It’s about to start,” Dad said. He pointed to the nativity scene.
The loudspeakers crackled to life, and a voice began speaking. Music played, and spotlights shone down on statues of shepherds, Wise Men, Mary, and Joseph. Erin listened to the familiar story. The baby Jesus was born and lay in a manger. Angels sang. Shepherds worshipped. Wise Men rejoiced.
Erin looked at the faces of her parents and the crowd gathered around the nativity scene. They all seemed happy. But why was everyone so happy about the baby Jesus if His birth didn’t stop bad things from happening? Erin didn’t like the question circling through her head. All she wanted was to stop feeling afraid.
The story ended, and a recording of the prophet’s voice came over the loudspeaker. He bore his testimony and read a scripture from the Bible: “For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Corinthians 15:22).
Erin’s heart beat faster. She said the words again in her mind, trying to remember them. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.
The scripture said that everyone would die—young people, old people—everyone. Erin knew that, of course, but she hadn’t thought about it much before. She thought she was too young to think about such things. But she wasn’t too young to have a testimony of the truth: because of Jesus Christ, everyone would live again. That’s why the shepherds and Wise Men rejoiced. They understood what Jesus had come to earth to do.
Erin looked from the little stable to a window in the visitors’ center behind the nativity scene. Inside the building a light shone on a large statue of Jesus stretching out His scarred hands. Erin thought about the little baby in the manger and how He grew into someone who had all power. And yet He chose to sacrifice His life for her. He had been born so she could live again. No matter what happened, Erin could feel safe in Jesus’s love.
Peace washed over her. She couldn’t quite explain how, but her worry disappeared. When she looked at the statue of Jesus Christ, shining brighter than twinkling Christmas lights, she barely noticed the dark night sky. She was too busy feeling the warmth of hope flickering inside her.

The supreme commander of the Allied forces during World War II, General Eisenhower, when faced with some of the most momentous military decisions that were to change the course of the world, made his humble acknowledgment: “This is what I found out about religion: It gives you courage to make the decisions you must make in a crisis and then the confidence to leave the result to a Higher Power. Only by trust in God can a man carrying responsibilities find repose.”