Gospel Story Finder

In the U.S. I had the opportunity to develop many close relationships with Church members. I finally began to believe I did have a testimony—I can’t forget the wonderful feelings when, each time I’d ask myself a question, I would feel the Holy Ghost enlightening my soul, clearing away the doubt. I had had difficulty understanding why polygamy had been practiced. On a bus somewhere between Colorado and Utah, I glimpsed the vision, not a visual sight, but a spiritual insight, of the men who practiced it. And I saw how it was possible for such a thing to be pure, that it had come from God. That sort of clarification continued throughout my trip in the United States.
I eventually visited some islands near Seattle, Washington. There, in a small apartment, I studied the Book of Mormon for ten days. My testimony continued to grow. The time had come to return to France, and in my heart I knew I would be baptized.
Several days after I returned home, the missionaries asked me to help them teach a lesson. The investigator was a science student, and he was struggling with some of the same questions I had confronted when I was studying the same subjects. I explained to him how I had found answers to the questions, and when we left he seemed satisfied and happy.
A few days later, the missionaries called to tell me he was joining the Church. “How about that,” I told myself. “Here I am, able to help someone else accept baptism, and not myself. This has lasted long enough!” I felt I had a testimony, but I fasted and prayed. I stayed up the whole night pleading with the Lord to seal this testimony in me. Finally, early in the morning, a sweet, peaceful calm filled my soul. I knew I had to tell the elders I was ready to be baptized.
As I rounded the last corner on my way to see the missionaries, I felt a strong force trying to keep me from going. It was like walking against a 100-kilometer-per-hour wind, which I had done before, only it was stronger. But this was a spiritual “wind,” not physical. I was just about to give up and turn around. I knew this force wanted me to doubt everything, but I finally said, “No, no. I know there’s a God.” I felt that truth deep in the roots of my soul. I knew He would battle this force for me.
I reached the chapel door, just a normal chapel door, but I had to pull with all my might to force it open. When I entered I saw some members and felt their spirit, and the opposing force was gone, broken. I felt the sweet peace in my heart again, and felt it even more strongly several days later as I was baptized and confirmed. I still feel it to this day.

My mother’s sister is not a member of the Church, but she had come to the temple for our sealing. Afterward, she shared an experience she had after visiting the temple grounds. She had a dream that she was again at the temple for our sealing, but this time all my family members (including those I had performed baptisms for) were with us. “Your mother was also there,” she said, “but she kept saying, ‘I can’t see my son. Why can’t I see my son?’”
I sobbed after hearing this, and I knew why my mother could not see me. She had passed on in 2002, and I had been procrastinating having her ordinances done for her in the temple. I resolved to do this as soon as possible. Soon I was privileged to perform her baptism and say her full name as I baptized the young woman who was acting as proxy for my mother.

When I became a deacon at the age of 12, I lived in New Jersey, USA, 50 miles (80 km) from New York City. I dreamed of being a great baseball player. My father took me to see a game in Yankee Stadium, in New York City. I can still see the swing of the bat as a famous player named Joe DiMaggio hit a home run into the center field stands with my father sitting beside me.
patriarch: a man who is called to give patriarchal blessings
patriarchal blessing: a special blessing of guidance and comfort from Heavenly Father
gift: a talent or special ability
But another day I spent with my father shaped my life forever. He took me to the home of an ordained patriarch. The patriarch led me to a chair, placed his hands on my head, and gave me a patriarchal blessing as a gift from God.
He said I was one of those of whom it had been said, “Blessed are the peacemakers” (Matthew 5:9).
Because the Lord revealed this gift to me in my patriarchal blessing, I have been able to recognize it and look for opportunities to use it to bless others.

Not surprisingly, Michelle wants to go on a mission herself someday. She’s practicing by telling her friends about the gospel and inviting them to church. Unfortunately, they seldom come. This doesn’t hurt the friendships, but it does sometimes hurt Michelle. Sadly, one friend who did listen with great interest died in a tragic fire. “I was crying,” Michelle says. “I missed her very much. We went to her church service. It was a sad, rainy day, but I prayed, and I felt that I didn’t have to be sad anymore because I would meet her again. We went to her mom’s house, and her mom was crying. I said, ‘You’ll meet her again in the next life,’ and it seemed to help.”

A picture forms on my monitor involving a father aboard an airplane. He has with him his five-year-old son and is almost wishing his son were not there because it is a very rough trip. There are downdrafts and updrafts and some passengers are feeling a bit queasy. Apprehensively, the father glances at his son and finds him grinning from ear to ear. “Dad,” he says, “do they do this just to make it fun for the kids?”
Good parents and family and leaders and friends do go to great lengths to make it fun for the kids, but the fun they are thinking of is wholesome fun; it hurts no one, and it lifts the spirit. It never detracts from the real, long-term joy we came into this world to experience.

Kent and Colleen Ockey were definitely different from other families I had met while selling photography. Not only were they genuinely friendly to me, but they showed great love to each other as well. I remember how happy they seemed, how comfortable and at peace I felt in their home even though I couldn’t find an ashtray. These people seemed completely out of step with others I had encountered in my work.
On a side table in their living room, I noticed a large copy of the Book of Mormon. I had read a few chapters of it earlier in my life, and now it attracted my attention again. The Ockey’s answered my questions freely, and invited me back. They introduced me to the missionaries. I began studying, praying, and searching. Twenty-three days later, I was baptized. I finally felt that I was in step, and I’ve tried to keep in step with the Lord and the guidance from his appointed leaders ever since.

A friend told of an experience that ended his relationship with a business he had regularly patronized. He had received a letter in the mail with a coupon entitling him to a free oil change at a particular car dealership. After the work was done, he was presented with a bill for the oil. When he objected, he was told that the coupon did not cover the price of the oil, only the cost of the labor to change it. Technically and legally that may have been correct, but my friend, feeling that he had been deceived, never went back to that business.

One dear sister had been a faithful member of the Church all her life. But she carried a personal sorrow. Years before, her daughter had died after a short illness, and the wounds from this tragedy still haunted her. She agonized over the profound questions that accompany an event such as this. She frankly admitted that her testimony wasn’t what it used to be. She felt that unless the heavens parted for her, she would never be able to believe again.

So she found herself waiting.

There are many others who, for different reasons, find themselves waiting on the road to Damascus. They delay becoming fully engaged as disciples. They hope to receive the priesthood but hesitate to live worthy of that privilege. They desire to enter the temple but delay the final act of faith to qualify. They remain waiting for the Christ to be given to them like a magnificent Carl Bloch painting—to remove once and for all their doubts and fears.

The truth is, those who diligently seek to learn of Christ eventually will come to know Him. They will personally receive a divine portrait of the Master, although it most often comes in the form of a puzzle—one piece at a time. Each individual piece may not be easily recognizable by itself; it may not be clear how it relates to the whole. Each piece helps us to see the big picture a little more clearly. Eventually, after enough pieces have been put together, we recognize the grand beauty of it all. Then, looking back on our experience, we see that the Savior had indeed come to be with us—not all at once but quietly, gently, almost unnoticed.

This can be our experience if we move forward with faith and do not wait too long on the road to Damascus.

The desire to support the priesthood in this great latter-day work, first seen in the Nauvoo sisters, has led Relief Society women over many years to establish health facilities, store grain, serve adoptive parents, and meet other critical needs. This same desire motivates the Relief Society today. Teaching is one means of helping the sisters and their families realize the great promise declared by President Kimball:

“As givers gain control of their desires and properly see other needs in light of their own wants, then the powers of the gospel are released in their lives. They learn that by living the great law of consecration they insure not only temporal salvation but also spiritual sanctification” (Ensign, Nov. 1977, p. 77).

That we may each fulfill our stewardship and earn this great reward I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Recently, we met a young woman who had learned to make these principles operative in her life. Bringing Sister Smith a beautiful rose, she came to express her love and her gratitude for the blessings of the gospel. She is handicapped, and so is the more grateful for blessings because she knows so well pain and difficulty. When telling of how she is able to keep a house and care for a husband, she said it does take her longer, but a friend goes to the store to get what she needs, and she has learned to do almost everything else for herself. Cutting carrot strips for a ward dinner is a challenge, but she does it and in accepting such opportunities enjoys the fulfillment of service.

The accident happened while I was riding home after a soccer game in a town south of Santiago, Chile. My younger brother had played for one of the teams, and while my parents waited for him, I went ahead on my bicycle. My eight-year-old cousin asked if he could go with me. I set him on the bar of my bike and took off.
As I pedaled, I felt a twinge of guilt. The night before, after celebrating the triumph of my own team in another local game, I had become intoxicated. At 18 years of age, I wasn’t doing much with my life.
The wind buffeted our faces, and my cousin shifted uncomfortably. As he did so, one of his feet caught between the tire and the bike frame. The bike flipped forward, and I hit the rough asphalt face first. When I touched my face, I thought my nose was damaged beyond repair.
Fortunately, my cousin was fine. My parents arrived shortly, then a police officer, and finally an ambulance. I was taken into surgery, where they stitched up part of my nose and placed some tissue on my forehead. After a few hours of observation in the hospital, I was sent home. That night I experienced intense pain that kept me from sleep.
The following night the pain was even worse. Finally, exhausted from the intensity of the pain, I fell asleep. In a frightening dream, I seemed to see myself lying on the bed with my arms folded over my chest—the only position I found comfortable. Then I saw a dense vapor of darkness and felt a hand pulling me toward it. Terrified, I struggled to get free.
Suddenly I saw my younger brother at my other side, pulling me away from the darkness and into the light. But his help was not enough; I became desperate and cried out. As I did, I woke up. My father came in to calm me. The pain came back, and for the first time in my life, I saw my father cry.
I was moved into my parents’ room, next to Mama. Mama and my brother had been baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints a few months before, and I had seen how much she loved the Book of Mormon. She read to me from it as I fell asleep again.
Almost immediately, I had the same dream. This time when my brother started to pull on my arm, I understood the significance of it. The darkness represented the world in its fallen state, and my brother represented the gospel and a life of hope—the life he wanted for me. I knew I had fallen into bad habits. I had not opened my heart to what the missionaries taught us, and I had never prayed to find out if what they taught was true. At that moment, I promised my Father in Heaven I would be baptized.
I woke up crying. Mama cried too and prayed for me.
The pain continued the following day, and Mama asked the missionaries to give me a priesthood blessing. After that, I began to get better. Throughout my recovery, my desire to be baptized grew stronger.
I began to receive the missionary discussions again, and this time I opened my heart. I did not yet have a great deal of gospel knowledge—but the dream, combined with my mother’s faith and the priesthood blessing, helped me know God loved me and had provided a way for me to obtain eternal life. I took an important step toward that goal on the day I was baptized.
I used to think I had plenty of time to worry about finding the true Church, if it existed. But the accident helped me understand that we must not postpone making good choices.

Aurelia stood on the bank of the Mississippi River and looked back across it. Never before in her eleven-and-a-half years had she been west of the wide river, and now here she was in Iowa.
She shivered in the February cold and tucked one hand into her coat. With the other, she held George’s hand. He was only six and was her responsibility. Ellen, thirteen, and nine-year-old Catherine walked ahead with seven-year-old Howard; little Lucy rode in the wagon with Mama, who was still very sick. But Aurelia and George stood and looked back across the river to Nauvoo.
Aurelia murmured, “Farewell, Nauvoo,” and turned with George to face the west. It would be a long journey to the Rockies, but she had her family and the true gospel. She was ready.

What if we had feared the criticism? I remember receiving a telephone call from a missionary who was obviously a little fearful. He said, “President, what shall we do? We have a man from the local church who follows us wherever we go and tries to stop us knocking on the doors.” The young missionary was surprised at my response: “Good,” I said. “You will have much success there, for the adversary is getting worried.”

One bishop taught his new deacons quorum presidency these duties. So the young presidency began to talk about what that might look like in their quorum and in their ward. They decided they should start visiting elderly ward members to see what they needed and then do that.

Among those they served was Alan, a rough, often profane, and sometimes hostile neighbor. Alan’s wife, Wanda, became a member of the Church, but Alan was, as we say, something of a piece of work.

Still, the deacons went to work, comically ignoring his insults, while they shoveled snow and took out trash. Deacons can be hard to hate, and Alan eventually began to love them. At some point they invited him to church.

“I don’t like church,” he responded.

“Well, you like us,” they said. “So come with us. You can just come to our quorum meeting if you want.”

And with the bishop’s approval, he came—and he kept coming.

The deacons became teachers, and as they continued to serve him, he taught them to work on cars and to build things. By the time these deacons-turned-teachers became priests, Alan was calling them “my boys.”

They were earnestly preparing for missions and asked him if they could practice missionary lessons with him. He swore that he would never listen and never believe, but, yeah, they could practice at his house.

And then Alan got sick. And he softened.

And one day in quorum meeting, he tenderly asked them to pray for him to quit smoking, and so they did. But then they followed him home and confiscated all of his tobacco stash.

As his failing health put Alan into hospitals and rehab centers, “his boys” served him, quietly exuding powers of priesthood and of love unfeigned (see Doctrine and Covenants 121:41).

The miracle continued when Alan asked to be baptized—but then he passed away before it could happen. At his request, his deacons-turned-priests were the pallbearers and the speakers at his funeral, where they—fittingly—warned, expounded, exhorted, taught, and invited all to Christ.

And later, in the temple, it was one of “Alan’s boys” who baptized that erstwhile deacons quorum president in proxy for Alan.

Everything John the Baptist said to do, they did. They did what deacons, teachers, and priests do all over this Church and all over this world.

Imagine graduating from Young Women and a few months later being called as Relief Society president. Impossible, you say? Mallory Higginson and Macie Murphy could tell you otherwise.
Both 18-year-old freshmen at BYU–Idaho, Macie and Mallory are serving as presidents of the Relief Society groups in their student wards. They had hardly even attended Relief Society before they were each called to serve as president.
They smile confidently as they talk about their callings, but each admits being surprised and overwhelmed after her first meeting with the bishop. Neither of them had been attending Relief Society for very long before arriving at school. Now all of a sudden they were in charge. Despite their initial doubts and fears, Macie and Mallory have quickly come to see that they are not on their own. Their mothers, who have both served as Relief Society presidents, are only a phone call away with comfort and advice. Their bishop is also there to support them, and, of course, so is the Lord.
Although from very different parts of the country—Macie is from Columbus, Georgia, and Mallory is from Mesa, Arizona—they are both learning together that Relief Society is about women being united in the gospel.
Macie and Mallory are each responsible for about 60 young women, and they have learned a lot from it. Living in the dorms at BYU–Idaho as they experience being away from home, the girls in each Relief Society group have become especially close-knit.
From her apartment Macie can see all the apartments in her Relief Society, which she likes because she can see the people she’s looking after. When they come back from dates, she likes to go chat with them, or if she notices that someone is sad or lonely, she invites her over to talk and have fun.
This dorm setting helps to foster a sisterhood, and Macie has learned that sisterhood is what Relief Society is about. “I think it’s really important to rely on each other,” she says. “I know lots of these girls come from places where they don’t have LDS friends, and it’s cool that we can all be one, united in the gospel.”
That is why things like visiting teaching are so important. Just before Mallory left for college, her mom asked her if she wanted to go visiting teaching. Mallory brushed off the offer by rolling her eyes and asking, “How hard could it be?” She admits that she didn’t take it very seriously, but now she understands what a wonderful support system it is. “It is so important for women to check up on each other and to support each other,” she says.
Macie agrees and says she is encouraging her Relief Society sisters to reach out and serve each other, even if it’s as simple as talking to someone who seems to be having a bad day. “It makes you feel better about yourself if you’re serving others,” she says. “We’re all a little homesick and lonely, and this is a great strength.” Away from their homes, the girls have become like family and look after each other, sharing cookies and conversations with neighbors.
“The moment I got this calling, I had this great love for the girls, and I didn’t even know them,” says Macie. She had heard other people say similar things about their callings but had never experienced it before. She compares this feeling to a small taste of what the Lord feels for us all. “He loves us all; we’re His children,” she says. “I feel a responsibility to help take care of the Lord’s children.”
Their bishop encourages this feeling of responsibility, and although he helps them and gives them guidelines, he encourages Macie and Mallory to pray for inspiration.
One way in particular that Mallory and Macie had to rely on the Lord was in recommending their counselors and others for callings in Relief Society. It was a rather daunting task at first, considering they were as new to the ward as they were to the calling and thus hardly knew anyone. Each of them prayed and then went door-to-door trying to get to know the girls in her Relief Society. Mallory says, “I asked the Lord to help me seek those who would be able to grow in the callings and also be able to help the other girls grow.” After that it was a matter of being in tune with the Spirit to know who felt right for the position. She was grateful to be able to counsel with her bishop, who holds the keys to approve callings in the ward.
Through her prayers, Macie has been able to touch the life of at least one girl through inspiration. “One of the girls I had recommended for a calling came up to me and was in tears. She told me that she had been praying for something and felt like she needed to get involved. This calling was what she needed. I know the Lord was the one who called her, but it made me feel good that I could help her out.”
“One of my favorite things to do during Relief Society is to sit up at the front during the opening hymn and look at each girl’s face,” says Mallory. “It’s a different perspective. You see them all as equal—they are all great people. And I’ve learned that everyone has something to offer, which is a perspective that I have often prayed for.”
Mallory considers being able to see the girls through the Lord’s eyes as one of the biggest blessings of her calling. But she says that you don’t need to be the Relief Society president to feel that. Anyone can pray and ask Heavenly Father for the ability to see people as children of God and appreciate what they have to offer.
“It’s been really humbling,” says Mallory of receiving this calling. “I look around and see so many great girls, and I realize any of them could be a Relief Society president with the Lord’s help, because we are instruments in His hands.”
After all, you never know just when the Lord might call on you to lead, whether it be in your Young Women class presidency or as president of the Relief Society. Macie and Mallory admit they were surprised, but that hasn’t stopped them from accepting the opportunity to serve.
And now both of them also have a new perspective on Relief Society.
When she first moved into Relief Society at home, Macie thought it was a challenge to fit in with the older women. Mallory’s home ward tried to ease the transition by periodically inviting the Laurels to Relief Society lessons and activities, so she had a taste of what it was like, but in the back of her mind she still had a fear that they were going to spend a lot of time sewing. However, both Mallory and Macie now understand the reasons for programs like home, family, and personal enrichment and are able to gear them toward the women their age.
“I have a greater appreciation for Relief Society now,” Macie says. “I don’t think it’s just an old ladies society anymore.”
And just as both girls turned to their mothers for words of advice and comfort in their new callings, Mallory says that with the right attitude, the younger women can learn from the older women. Then, that sisterhood she and Macie have come to embrace can be extended across the generations.
For help with the transition to Relief Society, go to www.lds.org and click on Serving in the Church, Relief Society, and then Transitioning into Womanhood.

Many years later, when I was grown up and had my own family, we heard the message of the gospel of Jesus Christ when the missionaries knocked on our door. There was something in these missionaries—a glow of trust, a glow of hope, a glow of security, and a glow of love—that looked in the beginning to us like a fairy tale.
Could it be true? Could it really be true that we are all children of a loving Heavenly Father, and that through the Spirit of Jesus Christ I could come to an understanding of the feelings I had had at Christmastime in my childhood? Because this door opened, the understanding that led to our conversion and baptism helped us see that we could experience Christmas every day when we focus always on Him, listen to Him, and embrace Him with a loving, grateful heart. What joy came to my family when we opened our souls to the light of the gospel of Jesus Christ!

I remember one summer I was very unsettled and hurt by a disagreement with a family member. Several family members, including the one who troubled me, decided to come together and counsel about it. I earnestly prayed and fasted to know what I should say or do. I needed more wisdom and love than what I had.

When we met that evening, the Lord’s Spirit mercifully softened our hearts. I remember I was taught by the words I spoke; they did not seem to be my own. They were filled with love, clarity, power, and the Spirit. I cried as I felt purely that God loved my family and wanted to heal us. I witnessed the Lord’s power, healing, and revelation come through earnest prayer and fasting. The windows of heaven opened widely that evening.

Several decades ago, when I was a student on holiday, I had the privilege of working in the kitchen of the London England Temple. On my first day, I was set to peel and chop a mound of vegetables.
The brother in charge of the kitchen came to speak to me and said, “Helen, there’s something you must understand about working in this kitchen. We have a rule; if you drop anything and it breaks, or if you spill anything—” I thought I knew what was coming, but no, “— you don’t clean it up. Someone else will clean it up. We have this rule so that people won’t feel bad about any mishap or mistake they make. You see, Helen, this is the temple, and we live according to a higher law here.”
I found that everyone in the kitchen followed this rule. If anyone spilt or dropped anything, whoever was at hand would immediately shoo them out of the way and cheerfully clean up the mess.
I never heard a cross word, a complaint, or a grumble in all my time there. All was bustle, kindness, and good cheer. Since then, I have often thought of those dear souls.
I came to know of some of their trials and pains. I don’t think any one of them had any great claim to education, social standing, wealth, or anything the world values. But they had learned something a great many people never know: The Saviour’s higher law of kindness, forbearance, and love.

After I had been made a senior companion, I met Carlos Garcia in Montevideo. Carlos was about fourteen years old. We became acquainted as he attended our presentations of the missionary discussions in the home of his neighbors, the Carabajals. Carlos wanted us to teach his family and helped us arrange to meet his parents and his younger brothers and sisters. We taught the Garcias and watched them become members of the Church. One day as we visited in the Garcia home we noticed large red letters about six inches high that had been cut out and pasted on the living room wall. They spelled “Y Yo Tercero,” meaning “And I Third.”
We asked Carlos what the saying meant. He said: “Well, I figure it this way. God is first. My family and others come second. And I am third.” I have never forgotten this great teaching.

After I finished high school in California, I went to the University of Utah. I joined a fraternity, which is a kind of club for college students. Some of my fellow fraternity members kept Heavenly Father’s commandments. Others did not. It was clear to me that the ones who kept the commandments were the ones who were going to have happy lives. I knew that I, too, needed to keep the commandments if I wanted to be happy.
After my first year of college, I went on a mission to Peru. I met lots of wonderful people who were happy even though they had very few things that money can buy. They had great joy in the gospel and in the love of their families.
When I returned to the University of Utah after my mission, I began to date Kathy Kipp. Her father was a good man but not a member of the Church, and her parents were divorced. Kathy and her sister faithfully attended Primary together as young girls. Sometimes Kathy’s father wanted the family to do things on Sunday that were not appropriate on the Sabbath Day. Kathy knew that she needed to obey her father, but she went to church when she could.
When we began dating, I learned how strongly Kathy felt about keeping the Sabbath Day holy. Because of her devotion, our family has always tried hard to make Sunday a special day. We don’t watch TV on Sunday or go to sporting events. We listen to sacred music, write letters, and spend lots of time talking together. Our younger children liked to read stories from the Friend and from scripture readers. As a result, we have enjoyed a spirit of peace in our home on the Sabbath.
Heavenly Father loves all children and wants them to be happy. He designed the gospel to make us happy. One of my pioneer ancestors, William Clayton, wrote the hymn “Come, Come, Ye Saints” (Hymns, no. 30). He wrote it when the Saints had been driven out of their beautiful city of Nauvoo and were looking for safety. The chorus of that song reminds us that when we do what is right, “all is well.” That does not mean we will not have any problems. But when we follow our Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness, all will eventually be well.

In the October 2018 general conference, the Yigo Guam Temple was announced. Franchesca says, “The youth were so excited—we all prayed for it.” After that, she eagerly watched the construction and waited for their very own temple, which was completed in May 2022.
They’ve always had to travel to the Philippines for temple trips in the past. To pay for the trips, they would raise money with bake sales and car washes. Because it’s a big trip, they would plan it to last about a week. Franchesca is excited to be able to go to the temple more often and have the blessings that come from being baptized for her ancestors.