Gospel Story Finder

Even on location he is close to his family. In talking about the experience of living with his family during the filming of Cowboy, he said, “We looked like a band of gypsies with everything but the chickens hanging on the side of our truck. We needed mobility, so we modified a motor home to be both production center and living quarters. There is something almost purifying about putting everything of real importance—wife, kids, and cameras (in that order, Honey!)—in a big box with wheels and criss-crossing the heartland of America, pursuing a dream together.
“When I get involved in a project, I become totally consumed with filming, and all my filmmaking equipment and camera gear were right there in the truck. We were totally self-contained, and it was a great feeling of freedom, but only because my family was there. It gave us tremendous perspective of the real values. We have a lovely home in California, and many good friends, and a lot of nice things, but none of them really mattered in comparison.”

Heber served in Japan for two years but saw very few people baptized and never learned the language very well. One day when he was discouraged, he went into the woods to pray.
Heber: If it is Thy will, when my mission in Japan is finished, I would like to serve a mission in Europe.
Three days later, Heber was called home to Utah by President Joseph F. Smith.
President Smith: Welcome home, Elder Grant. But you won’t be here long—your next call is to serve as president of the European Mission.

In the final years of young Brother Uchtdorf’s high level training as a pilot, he was flying solo with an instructor “on his wing” in another aircraft, directing his maneuvers and giving instruction. In one particular maneuver he was to represent an emergency landing by making an abrupt approach to the runway, requiring a sharp, steep embankment of the airplane before leveling out just in time to land. As young Dieter made the maneuver and attempted his steep, angular descent, the steering control of his airplane did not respond. He had, in airplane parlance, a “stuck stick.” The result would be a continuing roll of the airplane, leading to a crash landing upside down. “Bail out!” the instructor called. “Bail out!” But the man with “the courage of a bull,” as one of his Brethren described him, reversed the stick away from the extremity he had put it in and tried again to land. Once again the mechanism froze. “Bail out,” the stern command came again, this time with genuine concern in the instructor’s voice.

Determined that he be in charge of the aircraft, not the other way around, this future Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ wrestled physically with the steering, somehow breaking it free of the earlier resistance, made his sharp descent as prescribed in what was now not an imagined but very real emergency landing, and walked away grateful for divine help in times of need. “Man könnte sich darüber ärgern, aber man ist nicht verpflichtet dazu.” Such will be Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf’s determined and faithful service to the holy apostleship he now holds. He will give his all for the Lord Jesus Christ, His gospel, and His Church. In doing so he will lead untold legions of others on to new horizons.

The family talked of the times when Dad has been home: of camping trips in the Shenandoah Mountains when deer would eat right out of their hands, of water slides and visits to the Cherokee reservation, of playing baseball and football together, of trips to the beach.
“One time, just as we were leaving to pick up Dad, I slipped and cut my chin,” Nathan said. “Dad had been waiting 30 minutes before he found out we were at the emergency room.”

Elder Peterson was born in Roy, Utah, on 6 October 1939 to Rulon and Naomi Skeen Peterson. He and his wife of 39 years, Joan Jensen Peterson, have reared six children, which has been a rich and rewarding experience. A year after he and Sister Peterson were married in the Logan Utah Temple, their first child, Linda, was born with spina bifida. The experience rapidly brought the couple a deepened maturity. Their faith increased as they saw prayers answered and small miracles occur in the life of this daughter. Today Linda has served a mission, taught at the Missionary Training Center, graduated from Brigham Young University, married in the temple, and is the mother of two.

Lately I have been thinking of a time in my life when the weight of worry and concern over an uncertain future seemed ever present. I was 11 years old and living with my family in the attic of a farmhouse near Frankfurt, Germany. We were refugees for the second time in a period of only a few years, and we were struggling to establish ourselves in a new place far away from our previous home. I could say that we were poor, but that would be an understatement. We all slept in one room that was so tiny there was scarcely space to walk around the beds. In the other small room, we had a few pieces of modest furniture and a stove that Mother used to cook meals on. To get from one room to the other, we had to pass through a storage area where the farmer kept his equipment and tools, along with assorted meats and sausages hanging from the rafters. The aroma always made me very hungry. We had no bathroom, but we did have an outhouse—down the stairs and some 50 feet (15 m) away, though it seemed much farther during wintertime.
Because I was a refugee and because of my East German accent, other children often made fun of me and called me names that deeply hurt. Of all the times of my youth, I believe this may have been the most discouraging.
Now, decades later, I can look back on those days through the softening filter of experience. Even though I still remember the hurt and despair, I can see now what I was unable to see then: this was a period of great personal growth. During this time, our family bonded together. I watched and learned from my parents. I admired their determination and optimism. From them I learned that adversity, when confronted with faith, courage, and tenacity, could be overcome.
Brethren, I think back on that 11-year-old boy in Frankfurt, Germany, who worried about his future and felt the lasting sting of unkind remarks. I remember this time with a sort of sad fondness. While I would not be eager to relive those days of trial and trouble, I have little doubt that the lessons I learned were a necessary preparation for future opportunity. Now, many years later, I know this for a certainty: it is often in the trial of adversity that we learn those most critical lessons that form our character and shape our destiny.

President Henry B. Eyring, First Counselor in the First Presidency, told about a time when he followed prophetic counsel. During one general conference, President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994) urged members to get out of debt—specifically mortgage debt.
President Eyring said: “I turned to my wife after the meeting and asked, ‘Do you think there is any way we could do that?’ At first we couldn’t.” But by that evening he thought of a property they had unsuccessfully tried to sell for years. “We trusted God and … His servant’s message, [so] we placed a phone call. … I heard an answer that to this day strengthens my trust in God and His servants.” That same day a man had placed an offer on the Eyrings’ property for an amount just greater than their mortgage. The Eyrings soon became free of debt (see “Trust in God, Then Go and Do,” Liahona, Nov. 2010, 72–73).

One of my sons, at age 12, decided to raise rabbits. We built cages and acquired one large male and two female rabbits from a neighbor. I had no idea what we were getting into. In a very short time, our shed was bursting with bunnies. Now that my son is grown, I must confess my amazement at how they were controlled—a neighbor’s dog occasionally got into the shed and thinned out the herd.
But my heart was touched as I saw my son and his brothers watch over and protect those rabbits. And now, as husbands and fathers, they are worthy priesthood holders who love, strengthen, and watch over their own families.

A few years ago I read a Reuters news service account of an Alaska Airlines nonstop flight from Anchorage to Seattle, carrying 150 passengers, which was diverted to a remote town on a mercy mission to rescue a badly injured boy. Two-year-old Elton Williams III had severed an artery in his arm when he fell on a piece of glass while playing near his home in Yakutat, 450 miles (725 kilometers) south of Anchorage. Medics at the scene asked the airline to evacuate the boy. As a result, the Anchorage-to-Seattle flight was diverted to Yakutat.
The medics said the boy was bleeding badly and probably would not live through the flight to Seattle, so the plane flew 200 miles (320 kilometers) to Juneau, the nearest city with a hospital. The flight then went on to Seattle, with the passengers arriving two hours late, most missing their connections. But none complained. In fact, they dug into their pocketbooks and took up a collection for the boy and his family.
Later, as the flight was about to land in Seattle, the passengers broke into a cheer when the pilot said he had received word by radio that Elton was going to be all right. Surely love of neighbor was in evidence.

My mother was hospitalized with a stroke. It shocked us, and I wondered why God allowed this to happen.
Despite our worries, we didn’t lose faith. We knew that she would recover. She was OK until a few months later when she had another stroke. She couldn’t walk or speak and had a hard time eating. We continued to pray for help from God.
My mom fought this condition until she passed away. I know that God was not incapable of healing her, but it was His will that she return to Him. I know that if I live my life according to the Lord’s commandments, I can be reunited with her and my family. I know that because of the Atonement of our Savior, we will be resurrected. Death is not the end for us.

Gordon B. Hinckley had begun to mature, but his growing-up years weren’t without normal childhood mischief. One day, he and several of his schoolmates decided to skip a day of class. The boys knew they couldn’t stay home because their mothers would ask questions. They couldn’t go to a movie because they had no money, and they didn’t want to go to the park for fear the school’s truant officer would catch them. After much deliberation it was decided they would just wander around and waste the day.
The following morning, the boys’ principal, Mr. Stearns, met them at the school’s front door. “His demeanor matched his name. He said some pretty straightforward things and then told us that we could not come back to school until we brought a note from our parents,” President Hinckley recalls. “I remember walking sheepishly into the house. My mother asked what was wrong. … I said that I needed a note. She wrote a note. It was very brief. … It read as follows:
“‘Dear Mr. Stearns,
“‘Please excuse Gordon’s absence yesterday. His action was simply an impulse to follow the crowd.’
“… I have never forgotten my mother’s note. Though I had been an active party to the action we had taken, I resolved then and there that I would never do anything on the basis of simply following the crowd” (Ensign, May 1993, p. 53).

This story happened in Mexico.
Javi liked learning to do new things. He liked learning to play baseball. He liked learning the guitar. He liked learning to play new video games. So when Papá asked if he wanted to learn something new, Javi was ready.
Javi watched Papá open his laptop and bring up a site called “FamilySearch.”
“I’m going to teach you how to find the names of our ancestors,” Papá said. “Many of them lived a long time ago, and they didn’t have the gospel. When we find their names, we can go to the temple to be baptized for them. Then they will have a chance to accept the gospel.”
Javi remembered how good he had felt when he was baptized. If he could help his ancestors feel the same way, he wanted to learn how!
Javi watched Papá show him what to do. Then Papá passed the laptop to Javi. “Your turn!”
Javi grinned. He practiced clicking around and reading the names and dates. This was his family!
For the next few nights, Mamá and Papá helped Javi learn more about doing family history work. His older sister Lily started to learn too. It felt like playing a video game with a very important quest!
One Sunday, the bishop announced that the stake was holding a special challenge. The stake members would have 60 days to find as many names as they could to send to the temple. The goal was a total of 5,000 names. At the end of the 60 days, there would be a big party to celebrate. There would also be awards for the people who had found the most names.
“I want to help,” Javi said when they got home from church.
“Me too!” Lily said.
“How about you start right now?” Papá said. “See how many names you can find before dinner.”
Javi and Lily raced to the front room. Lily opened FamilySearch on her phone, and Javi worked on Papá’s laptop. Soon he found a record for his great-grandfather’s brother. It also listed three children who hadn’t been baptized. Javi whooped. He had found three names to send to the temple!
For 60 days Javi spent most of his free time doing family history. He searched for names almost every night after school. On Sundays, his whole family worked on it together.
At the end of the 60 days, Javi and his family went to the church building for the party. There were tacos, music, and lots of people. It was fun!
Finally, the stake president stood up.
“I am so proud of everyone,” he said. “Our stake found 10,000 names for the temple!”
Everyone cheered. Javi’s eyes got wide. That was twice as many as their goal!
Then the stake president announced the winners. The adult winner was a woman Javi didn’t know, but the youth winner was Lily!
“Now for the children. We had someone send in 216 names,” said the stake president. The crowd clapped so loudly that Javi couldn’t hear what the stake president said next.
Javi’s father nudged him. “Javi, he said your name.”
Javi could hardly believe it. Had he really sent in 216 names?
Javi walked to the front. He smiled big as the stake president shook his hand and handed him a certificate. It had his name on it!
“How does it feel to win?” the stake president asked.
“Really good,” Javi said.
It did feel good to win. And it felt really good to have learned a way to help so many people!
Illustration by Josh Talbot

I don’t think it’s any 14-year-old girl’s dream to find herself in a dusty barn, hoisting a rusty shovel, cleaning out a smelly horse stall. But there I was after school every day until I was old enough to get a different job.
It definitely wasn’t my ideal situation to work during high school, but I understood then that if I ever wanted a job I actually liked—one that didn’t involve cleaning up after animals—I needed college, and to go to college, I needed money. I knew that for me, education was the right step toward a (hopefully) fulfilling career.

We often hear the phrase “Trust in the Lord,” but what does that really mean when life gets complicated? For me, it was tested during my first year of nursing school at St. Paul University Dumaguete.
I was invited to serve as part of the health team for FSY 2022 in Bacolod. Though I was still a student, I felt honored and excited to help. But two weeks before the event, I discovered that FSY’s opening day fell on the same day as my final exams. I was torn. I wanted to serve, but I also needed to fulfill my academic responsibilities.
So I prayed, asking the Lord to help me find a way. The answer came quietly but clearly: Go.
I asked the FSY coordinators if I could travel solo to Bacolod after my exams. To my surprise, they said yes. That was the first miracle.
On exam day, my dad drove me to school. As we passed the FSY buses, I jokingly said, “Sana all!” He replied, “Just do your part, and God will do the rest.” Normally, I’m the last to finish tests, but that day I was done by 10 a.m.—miracle two.
Then came a twist: an announcement about additional face-to-face exams in the afternoon. I felt crushed. But after another prayer, a second announcement followed—the exams were moved online. Miracle three.
I rushed to the gate, praying for a ride. Just then, an empty bus heading toward Bacolod pulled up. Miracle four.
While traveling through the mountains of Mabinay, I received a message: the online exam would start in 30 minutes. That area had no signal. I prayed again. Suddenly, my phone showed full 5G. I joined the call, completed the exam, and submitted it. As soon as I logged off, the signal vanished. Miracle five.
I arrived in Bacolod safely and on time. Miracle six.
During FSY, seven youth developed high fevers. The health team and I stayed up all night caring for them— checking vitals, doing bed baths, and praying. By morning, all had recovered. Miracle seven.
On the way home, I checked for signal in the same mountain spot. Nothing. Brother Romil confirmed, “That place never has signal.” That moment reaffirmed everything. The Lord had truly intervened.

A friend of ours (and most of us were recent converts) was getting into the drug culture with all its wrong attitudes and acts. Some might say we shouldn’t have kept this kind of friend, but we did. (Later he said that he had felt he was losing us even so, but this was because he had been failing to keep his part of the relationship.) At any rate, we didn’t throw him out of our lives for taking drugs, or for any of the other sins, small or great, that it led him to. Then we saw him turn to paths of repentance, and when he finally asked, we helped him climb back. The day of his temple marriage was a day of deep joy to us all.
Sharon DequerMunrovia, California

It’s not unusual for Young Men and Young Women to paint a house as part of a ward service project, but the teachers quorum and Mia Maid class from the Boise 19th Ward, Boise Idaho North Stake, did it as part of a community-wide “Paint the Town Day.” They combined with 154 other teams made up of 4,200 volunteers to paint houses all over the community, with materials donated by local merchants. When they were through, they all met in a local park for a community party.
They had such a good time, in fact, that the rest of the youth from the ward decided to do a painting project the very next Saturday.
This one involved being ferried across a reservoir to camp, then painting the log picnic shelters and tables the next day. “This is a pretty place, and I like being part of keeping it nice,” said Melissa West, surveying her ward’s work. The event resulted in some sore muscles and sunburned noses, but everyone agreed they were worth the friendship and sense of service they came away with.

Felipe didn’t always feel so excited and confident about a mission—or the Church. “I had a time in my life when I wasn’t as strong in the gospel, and it always felt like something was missing,” he says. “You know that person who just goes to church and doesn’t do anything else? That was me.” After talking to his brother and bishop about serving a mission, he decided to start praying and reading his scriptures every day.

“I think what helped me was daily conversion. I grew up in the Church, and for a time I didn’t search for conversion because I grew up in a home with a belief and thought that was good enough. But now I am looking for a testimony every day.”

One evening, years ago, my wife and I sat alone together. The children were all asleep in their beds, and we were waiting for the birth of a new little baby. My wife, big with child, was sitting by the table. We were talking softly together, knowing that the baby would arrive that night. The lights were dim, and there was a feeling of love for each other and for the baby that was to come. I remember looking at my wife—she was in a rocking chair, her eyes closed, her pale white hands spread across her full waist. The sweet feeling in the room grew and persisted. It was very powerful. I said to her, “Do you feel this all around us?” and she replied, “Yes.” It was lovely being with her there then. It was a sweet closeness, a unity I can hardly describe.

“Can you tell?” I said. “We shall have a son.”

“I know,” she replied. “It will be a boy.”

And then for me the veil parted, and I saw our son, standing, waiting, a few feet from the chair my wife was rocking in. He was tall and well formed, taller and larger, it seemed to me, than the room allowed. There was power about his person, great power and goodness and patience and love. I said, “Do you see him there standing beside you?”

Again there swelled that sweet feeling of closeness and unity. She looked at me, confident, a small smile on her lips. “I don’t need to,” she said. “I know he is there.”

Sometimes it’s difficult to find the time to talk. If that’s the case, try some creative approaches. One young missionary told me, “I always wanted to talk to my mom. Oh, we talked about lots of things but never about anything serious or personal. We had a good relationship—we got along well—but we never really talked.
“There was so much that I wanted to tell her, so many questions I wanted to ask her before I went on my mission, but I just couldn’t do it.
“So I wrote her a letter, a long letter, and left it on her dresser. That really opened things up for us, and we had a couple of great talks before I left.”

Ironically, one of the most painful arguments James and I ever had occurred during companionship council. The conflict quickly and unexpectedly escalated past the point of rational conversation, and we were both hurt in the process. But that heartbreaking conflict that began in companionship council was also resolved in companionship council. We knew we would have another chance the next week and the next.
So after a week of pondering and cooling off, we tried again, and we eventually worked through our differences. I felt keenly the “personal peace and a burst of spiritual momentum” promised to us when we resolve conflicts in the Savior’s way. Every conflict we resolve with creativity and love will propel us forward and invite further influence from the Holy Ghost in our relationships.