Gospel Story Finder

I was 11 years old when I learned about the Church. From the moment I first entered the meetinghouse, I felt a beautiful spirit. I continued to attend for several months, during which time I turned 12 and started the Personal Progress program in Young Women. Two months later, on August 14, 1994, I was baptized.
It was surprising to the ward members to see a girl of 12 baptized by herself, without her parents. How did this happen? I asked my father if I could be baptized. He replied, “You’re an intelligent young woman, and you will know what decision to make.” I had already made the decision in my heart that I would never again be without the beautiful feeling I had when I heard the true gospel.

On Lamar’s first flight in a real aircraft, he was feeling nervous about remembering everything. “I said a quick, silent prayer before I went up, and I was fine,” he says. Now when he struggles to remember something in the air, those small, silent prayers help him do what he needs to do. Even when his dad isn’t in the back seat, Lamar knows he always has his Father in Heaven with him.

One of the great East German leaders was Henry Burkhardt, who worked closely and was with President Monson for two decades at the scene of all the pivotal events in that country. Brother Burkhardt was a man who served so faithfully and at such great risk all those years behind the Iron Curtain as the Church’s representative to the government. He served, among other positions, as a Church leader and as president of the Freiberg Temple.
I asked him what stood out in his mind as the singular moment in President Monson’s ministry. I expected him to mention the meeting in Görlitz, the dedication of the country in 1975, the organization of the first stake, the dedication of the Freiberg Temple, or the meeting with Herr Honecker, East Germany’s highest Communist official, when President Monson asked permission for missionaries to enter the country and other missionaries to leave the country to serve in other lands. Given the death squads that patrolled the wall, the query sounded almost ludicrous, but Herr Honecker responded, “We have watched you all these years, and we trust you. Permission granted.” Which one of these events would Brother Burkhardt choose?
Tears began to flow down his cheeks as he responded: “It was December 2, 1979.” I couldn’t register in my mind a major event attached to that date. “Tell me about it,” I said.
“It was the day President Monson came to East Germany to give my wife, Inge, a blessing.” President Monson had a weekend without an assignment, and he flew from the United States to Germany for just that purpose. Sister Burkhardt had been in the hospital for nine weeks with complications from surgery, and her condition was deteriorating. President Monson had recorded in his journal, “We joined our faith and our prayers in providing her a blessing.”8 He had gone thousands of miles with his only free time in months—to the rescue.

It was a windy day in Mongolia. Nine-year-old Batbayar was walking home from the bus stop after school. He hugged his coat tighter in the wind. Luckily, it wasn’t far to his grandparents’ house, where he lived.
“Hi!” Batbayar said as he came inside.
“Welcome home,” Grandma said. “I made some khuushuur for a snack.”
“Thank you!” Batbayar reached for one of the warm, spicy meat pies.
“Wait! Don’t eat any until the missionaries get here,” Grandpa said. “They’ll be coming any minute.”
Batbayar loved it when the missionaries from Grandma and Grandpa’s church came to visit. He always learned a lot from them. But there was just one problem.
“Will they ask me to read from the Book of Mormon again?” Batbayar asked. “Reading is hard for me.”
“That’s why they’re bringing another book today,” Grandma said.
“What book?” Batbayar said.
“You’ll see,” Grandpa said.
Soon the missionaries arrived. They ate Grandma’s delicious meat pies together. Then Batbayar said, “Grandma says you brought me a book.”
“I think you’ll like this book,” Sister Heitz said. “It has lots of pictures.”
Batbayar looked at the cover. Book of Mormon Stories, it said. A picture on the cover showed people building a boat.
“I remember that story,” Batbayar said. “The man didn’t know how to build a boat. So he prayed. And God helped him.”
“That’s right,” Sister Enkhtuya said. “Will you try reading this book? Then you can pray to know that what it teaches is true.”
“I will,” Batbayar promised.
That night he read from the book with pictures. He read the story about the boat. Then he prayed. He fell asleep thinking about the man who built the boat and how God helped him.
From then on, each night Batbayar read a story. Then he prayed. And each night, he fell asleep thinking about what he read.
When the sister missionaries came again, they taught Batbayar more about Jesus Christ. Batbayar learned about prophets. He learned about God’s commandments. He kept going to church with Grandma and Grandpa. And he kept reading and praying.
One day Batbayar had something important to tell his grandparents. “When I read the stories in the book with pictures, my heart feels good,” he said. “When I pray, I feel they are true. I think I should be baptized.”
Today, Batbayar is a member of the Church. He has gotten better and better at reading. And he still reads the Book of Mormon every night!

There is a much repeated story by Russell Conwell about acres of diamonds:
Ali Hafid, an ancient Persian, owned much land, many productive fields, with orchards, gardens, and money out at interest. He had a lovely family and was content because he was wealthy, and wealthy because he was content.
An old priest came to Ali Hafid and told him that if he had a diamond the size of his thumb, he could purchase a dozen farms like his, and Ali Hafid said, “Will you tell me where I can find diamonds?”
The priest told him, “If you will find a river that runs over white sands, between high mountains, in those white sands, you will always find diamonds.”
“Well,” said Ali Hafid, “I will go.”
So he sold his farm, collected his money that was at interest, left his family in charge of a neighbor, and away he went in search of diamonds, and he traveled through many lands.
The man who purchased Ali Hafid’s farm led his camel out into the garden to drink, and as the animal put his nose into the shallow waters, Ali Hafid’s successor noticed a curious flash of light in the white sands of the stream. Reaching in, he pulled out a black stone, containing a strange eye of light. Not long after, the same old priest came to visit Ali Hafid’s successor and found that in the black stone, containing a strange eye of light, was a diamond. As they rushed out into the garden and stirred up the white sands with their fingers, they came up with many more beautiful, valuable gems. Thus were discovered the diamond mines of Golconda, which were the most valuable diamond mines in the history of the ancient world. So, had Ali Hafid remained at home and dug in his own cellar or anywhere in his own fields rather than traveling in strange lands, he would have had acres of diamonds.

César likes Oaxaca, but it is not his lifelong home. As an officer in the Mexican Air Force, Brother Arzate has been transferred all around the country, and César has attended eight different schools in four cities. “It’s a little hard at first, because no one knows me and so I don’t have any friends,” he admits. But then he quickly adds, “I pray to Heavenly Father and ask Him to help me make new friends and get good grades.” César loves his country and is proud of his father for helping to defend it.
César used to be rather shy, but Church activities have helped him to become more outgoing. Although friendly with everyone, he chooses close friends carefully. And these friendships last. He receives letters and telephone calls from all over Mexico. His best friends are his brother, Daniel (5), and his sister, Diana Gisela (2). His parents can leave them in his care with total confidence that he will keep them safe and happy. Even when the family goes on an outing, César pays attention to what the younger children are doing. He does this in a caring, not-at-all bossy way, and his little brother and sister love him dearly.

Several months ago Sister Beck asked if I would consider speaking about families and tell a little about my experiences with families. I am a single woman and do not have any children of my own. I think Sister Beck thought that I was qualified to talk about families because I have never made a mistake with any of my own children. Many women can’t claim that.

By the time they arrived at the home of Sister Beverly Gillis, a Reading Pennsylvania Stake youth leader, they were ready for movement. They were ready for sounds louder than lapping water. They were ready to dance!
Sister Gillis’s yard had been lit by white lights strung through the trees. A few chairs had been set up around the edges of the deck that would serve as the dance floor. Then the music started. In many ways it was a typical youth conference dance. The music was too loud for the leaders, and not loud enough for the youth.
But then something unusual started happening. The chairs around the edges of the dance area were empty. There were no wallflowers. Instead of pairing up, the teens were dancing in circles with five or ten other friends. Everyone was drawn in. The gap that must be crossed when asking someone to dance was nonexistent. No one was allowed to sit out unless they absolutely insisted that they needed a break. At this dance, youth from eastern Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Maryland were united. There was only one “in” group, and everyone belonged.

Shortly after I returned from my mission, my stake president asked me to interpret for Elder Hartman Rector Jr., then of the Seventy, who had come to Mendoza, Argentina, to preside over a stake conference. These marvelous opportunities have continued over the years. I interpreted for President Thomas S. Monson and other General Authorities during the 11 dedicatory sessions of the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple.
During four of those sessions, I read the dedicatory prayer in Spanish from the pulpit in the celestial room. My voice broke up several times because of my emotions; tears filled my eyes and flowed down my face. I was reading the inspired prayers and promises for my country from Heavenly Father, who lives and reveals His will, just as He did 12 years earlier through my mission president when I accepted the challenge to learn English.
I also interpreted for the prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley, during the four dedicatory sessions of the Montevideo Uruguay Temple and the four dedicatory sessions of the Asunción Paraguay Temple.
It’s difficult for me to explain how sacred those moments were for me when I stood alongside prophets, seers, and revelators in the Lord’s house. I felt somewhat like Peter, James, and John when they had the amazing experience of seeing Jesus transfigured. Peter expressed my feelings when he told Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here” (Matt. 17:4).

When Sister Anderson was a Scout leader, Jared’s class went to the planetarium at Idaho State University. They loved watching the constellations, and he still enjoys identifying many of them. Last summer Jared and his mother often put blankets on the grass and watched the stars from their front lawn.
“That is where we have had some of our best talks,” Sister Anderson says. “They are more than astronomy talks. We talk about the premortal existence and the hereafter, all under the stars. We talk about problems and how we can best face the life we have ahead of us.”

Yet there are those who do not hear, who will not obey, who listen to the enticings of the evil one, who grasp those maka-fekes until they cannot let go, until all is lost. I think of that person of power, that cardinal of the cloth, even Cardinal Wolsey. The prolific pen of William Shakespeare described the majestic heights, the pinnacle of power to which Cardinal Wolsey ascended. That same pen told how principle was eroded by vain ambition, by expediency, by a clamor for prominence and prestige. Then came the tragic descent, the painful lament of one who had gained everything, then lost it all.
To Cromwell, his faithful servant, Cardinal Wolsey speaks:
O Cromwell, Cromwell!
Had I but served my God with half the zeal
I served my king, He would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
That inspired mandate which would have led Cardinal Wolsey to safety was ruined by the pursuit of power and prominence, the quest for wealth and position. Like others before him and many more yet to follow, Cardinal Wolsey fell.

The first thing you get when you meet Lexi Walker is a hug. At the recording studio, she hugs orchestra members, the sound technician, her mother, her friends. … You get the idea.
You get the same feeling when you listen to her music. It surrounds you like a hug and makes you feel welcome, happy, and alive. Based on her breathtaking performances on YouTube, at Radio City Music Hall in New York, USA, in Asia, and at the 2017 Presidential Inaugural Ball in Washington, D.C., USA, it’s no wonder the 15-year-old is really connecting with people. But what’s really important is that music helps Lexi connect to the Spirit and allows her to share her testimony.
“Music has always been one of my primary forms of self-expression. Some feelings can be shared only through powerful lyrics and a lovely melody.”

Many years ago, on an assignment to the beautiful islands of Tonga, I was privileged to visit our Church school, the Liahona High School. Entering one classroom, I noticed the rapt attention the children gave their instructor. In his hand he held a strange-appearing fishing lure made with a round stone and large seashells. I learned the Tongan word for this lure is maka-feke. It means “octopus lure.”
The teacher explained that Tongan fishermen glide over a reef, paddling their outrigger canoes with one hand and dangling the maka-feke over the side with the other. An octopus dashes out from its rocky lair and seizes the lure, mistaking it for a much-desired meal. So determined is the grasp of the octopus and so firm is its instinct not to give up the precious prize that the fisherman can flip it right into the canoe.
It was easy for the teacher to point out to the wide-eyed youth that the evil one—even Satan—has fashioned maka-fekes with which to ensnare unsuspecting persons.

The young women were effective in teaching the restored gospel. One man later wrote that when he heard Sister Jennie Brimhall speak as a missionary, he was an unbeliever and didn’t want to listen. But he couldn’t forget her sincere words and lovely expression. Finally, twenty years later, he investigated the gospel and became a member of the Church.

The prayers of Steven E. Snow and his family become more humble, heartfelt, and sincere as his son recovers from a serious head injury.

The final miles of a 25-mile bicycle ride can be grueling. But for 120 young people from the Beaverton Oregon Stake the miles were pleasant for two different reasons: (1) their course had been planned so that the last five miles meandered along the scenic banks of the Willamette River in Champoeg State Park near Portland, and (2) they knew that each mile was furthering their goal of helping a family with 13 developmentally disabled adopted or foster children.
The service project was coordinated by youth chairmen Lee Oakley and Julie Haddon of the sponsoring Tigard First and Second wards. Enough money was raised (through pledges from sponsors) to help Mr. and Mrs. Floyd Grisham and their daughter, Jacqueline, to convert their garage into a playroom for the 13 disabled children who share their home with them.
Youths from the Gabriel Park, Mountain View, Tualatin Valley and West Hills wards, as well as from the Tigard wards, cycled through level farmland for 20 miles before reaching the park. Beautiful weather; a lunch of tacos, soft drinks and ice cream; and a chance to meet the Grisham family and talk with them at the end of the ride helped ease any muscles strained during the ride.
The young Latter-day Saints patterned this service project after a walk-a-thon held the year before and based it on the following criteria: the service should help someone residing within stake boundaries; it should include direct contact with those they were helping; and it should include people who were not members of the Church. The choice of the bike-a-thon for the Grisham family met all the requirements, since the Grishams are not members of the Church. Each participant received a certificate for his service.

Now, my young friends, I would like to make reference to another experience, one I think of often but one I seldom talk about. I shall not mention it in detail; I only want to refer to it. It happened many years ago when I was perhaps not quite as young as you are now, and it had to do with my decision to follow that guide.

I knew what agency was and knew how important it was to be individual and to be independent, to be free. I somehow knew there was one thing the Lord would never take from me, and that was my free agency. I would not surrender my agency to any being but to Him! I determined that I would give Him the one thing that He would never take—my agency. I decided, by myself, that from that time on I would do things His way.

That was a great trial for me, for I thought I was giving away the most precious thing I possessed. I was not wise enough in my youth to know that because I exercised my agency and decided myself, I was not losing it. It was strengthened!

I learned from that experience the meaning of the scripture: “If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed;

“And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” (John 8:31–32.)

I have not been quite as frightened of spiritual crocodiles since then, because I have been alerted on many occasions as to where they were lurking.

I have been nipped a time or two and on occasion have needed some spiritual first aid, but have been otherwise saved because I have been warned.

The following year was full of blessings. In addition to responsibilities in my branch and much volunteer work, I found work in a private hospital and was able to continue my education. My mother came to Church meetings several times after my baptism, and she joined the Church five months later. But most important, I had my Heavenly Father’s love as part of my life, and I had the assurance that I was finally on my way home.

Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles grew up in a home with a comfortable living—until World War II broke out. Then his family lost everything and became refugees.
But they pulled together! Speaking of this time, Elder Uchtdorf (then President Uchtdorf of the First Presidency), said, “To this day, I am deeply impressed by the way my family worked after having lost everything following World War II! I remember my father … taking on several difficult jobs. … My mother started a laundry and worked countless hours doing menial labor. She enlisted my sister and me in her business. With my bike I became the pickup and delivery service. It felt good to be able to help the family in a small way.”4

Her mother expected her to continue with her university education and earn a master’s degree. “But I told her I wanted to go on a mission. She said that I couldn’t, that I mustn’t sacrifice the years I should be in school. I prayed very hard that my mom would let me go. And then I learned something very important.
“You see, we had a young man living in our home. He was about twenty-five years old and was like an adopted son to my mother. His health was poor, and my mother took care of him and supported him when he served for a time as a Buddhist monk. I was very jealous of him and of the attention my mother paid him. I wouldn’t even sit at the same table with him.
“When I prayed to Heavenly Father for my mom to let me go on a mission, I received the answer that first I would have to show her that I loved everyone, even the young man I was so jealous of. It was a very hard thing for me to accept. But the next morning when I saw the young man, I waved at him and said ‘Hi!’ It was the first word I had said to him in seven years. When I turned to face my mother, she had tears in her eyes. I knew then that everything would be all right. I told her that I really wanted to go on a mission and that her support was most important. I really appreciate all that my mother has done for me.”