Gospel Story Finder

When I was a young missionary serving in Mexico, I was called to serve as branch president in a small town in the state of Veracruz. When my companion and I were reviewing the membership records of our little branch, we found the record of a brother who had been ordained a deacon but had not been attending the meetings.
We arranged to make a visit with him. While visiting him, we invited him to come to the meetings and serve in his priesthood responsibilities. The following Sunday he came but was not properly dressed and was unshaven. So we taught him about being clean and neat when he officiated in those sacred priesthood responsibilities, which included passing the sacrament. His life changed considerably as he served faithfully. That branch was my last assignment in the mission before returning home. When I was ready to leave the branch, this good brother came and put his arms around me, picked me up, and with a big hug swung me around. As he did, the tears rolled down his cheeks, and he said, “Thank you for coming and helping me.”

When some members moved into the area, and his missionary efforts continued. The little congregation grew, and for the next 25 years, he welcomed Church members and friends into his home for Church services. These efforts were unofficial as the Church did not have legal status in The Gambia, and the country had not been dedicated for the work of the Lord.
In June 1988, Elder Terrence Vinson, then-President of the Africa West Area Presidency, accompanied by his counsellor, Elder Marcus Nash, visited The Gambia. They met with Samuel, his wife, Fatou, their children Sampson, Daniel, Princess Amelia, Hannah, his sister Juliana Sandra and Albert Frederick Alexander, his longtime good friend, fellow Church member and fellow returned missionary.
Elder Vinson and Elder Nash authorised them to meet as a group and hold sacrament meetings. It was an exciting moment. The two sons of Samuel, namely Sampson and Daniel, were later baptized by Samuel after the visit by the General Authorities.

In the remote mountain village of Navunimono, Fiji, drinking water used to come directly from the river that passes through the community. Cattle farms upstream, rainstorms, and other environmental factors make the river water unsafe for drinking, necessitating the recent installation of three water storage tanks.
The storage tanks, installed under the auspices of the Church’s Humanitarian Services, are among more than 50 similar installations made by the Church throughout Fiji.
Tomujani Boginivalu, leader of the Navunimono village, noted, “Our water supply is now clear and easily obtained for the whole community.”
“In order for the villagers to claim that ownership,” explained Leo Wright, humanitarian services missionary for the Church in Fiji, “the locals take responsibility for the water tank maintenance. They build, at their own expense and labor, the block and concrete bases for the tanks. In addition, a local individual is appointed as the ongoing caretaker of the tanks. In this way the villagers have an investment in the project and become more aware of its usefulness.”
Local resident Joseva Vitinavulagi observed the changes following the installation. “The clay base of the reservoir servicing the village is dirty because there’s no water purification plant. With the new tanks installed, I’ve already noticed the change in the skin of the children and adults in the village. I am proud to say that schoolchildren now go to school with plastic bottles of clean water.”
“It is the aim of our program,” explained Brett Bass, project manager of Humanitarian Services of the Church, “to support local people and organizations as they find sustainable solutions for their water needs. In the case of Fiji, the people have come together to identify a suitable solution and then have put forth the effort to make it happen.”

“I wanted so much to dance professionally,” Bianca reflects. In her prayers she even told Heavenly Father how inspiring it would be to all the little dancers if she got into a ballet company without working on Sundays. “Looking back, I now laugh at trying to tell Heavenly Father what was best.”
Bianca ponders a lesson taught by Elder D. Todd Christofferson: “We ought not to think of God’s plan as a cosmic vending machine where we (1) select a desired blessing, (2) insert the required sum of good works, and (3) the order is promptly delivered.”1
“I knew Heavenly Father wanted me to dance,” she says. “I knew He wanted me to strive towards getting into a ballet company, but as the years went by it became very apparent that He never promised me I would actually get into one.”

My life turned around. I began to pray, fast, bear my testimony, preach the gospel to my coworkers, pay tithing, and read and study the holy scriptures. I felt happy and close to my Heavenly Father. One day I talked to my branch president about serving a mission, and he eventually sent in my mission papers.
The members of my district were happy when they learned I had received a call to the México Chihuahua Mission. Some people were amazed.
The last Sunday before leaving on my mission, I bore my testimony. I said that everybody can change. Alma the Younger changed; the sons of King Mosiah changed; Zeezrom changed; Paul changed; and I changed.

A blessing to some; one senior citizen stated that the health fair answered her prayers. She needed a doctor’s letter to join the clinic at the public hospital and could not attain one because of the cost. However, when she attended the event, there was a booth for doctor’s visits, and she got the letter free of charge.

My changes were more effective because I acknowledged the Savior was supporting me rather than condemning me. Before, my scripture study, prayer, and temple attendance had been full of shame and had limited my spiritual growth. Now my prayers are more genuine and honest because I’m not hiding myself from the Lord.

Why can’t I tell?” Ryan asked as he tiptoed behind Samantha to the big willow tree by the creek.
“‘Cause it’s a secret,” his friend Samantha whispered. “Nobody’s supposed to know about it except you and me and Grandpa.” Very carefully she lifted the leafy branch so that Ryan could see. “Don’t touch—just look.”
“Wow!” Ryan exclaimed as he looked at the four tiny white eggs in the nest. “How did you find it?”
“Grandpa showed it to me,” Samantha said proudly. “He says that if we don’t disturb it, pretty soon we’ll see the baby birds when they’re hatched. It’s a secret ’cause if lots of kids start coming around, the mother will abandon the nest.”
“Wow!” Ryan said again as he put the branch back in place to hide the nest. “I never saw a bird’s nest with real eggs in it before. I won’t tell anyone else.”
“We’ll come back on Saturday,” Samantha said as they started home. “Grandpa says that the eggs should be hatched by then.”
Ryan remembered the nature study lesson their second grade class had just had. “I have an idea,” he said. “If we’re careful not to disturb the mother, maybe we can watch her feed the babies and see them learn to fly.”
“Great idea!” Samantha agreed.
Ryan felt proud that Samantha trusted him with the secret. He wished he felt the same way about the secret Joey had told him last week. That secret made Ryan feel scared because Joey had said that Ryan would be in big trouble if he told anyone, and Joey was a big bully.
When Mom called him for lunch, Ryan was still thinking about Joey’s secret.
“Aren’t you hungry today?” Mom asked when she saw him pushing his macaroni around the plate with his fork.
“Not very.” Macaroni was his favorite, but today it didn’t taste so good. “Mom, is it OK for a kid to tell a secret if someone told him not to?”
“That depends,” Mom said. “If it’s a secret that makes you feel unhappy or upset, you should always tell a grown-up you can trust. But if the secret makes you feel happy, then it’s a good secret and you should keep it.”
Ryan liked what Mom said, and she was a grown-up he could trust. “Mom, Joey told me a secret about how easy it is to snitch stuff from Mr. Sonny’s store.”
“Did you feel happy when he told you?” Mom asked.
“No, but he said I’d be in big trouble if I told, and I’m scared of him.”
Mom smiled. “You won’t be in any big trouble. I’m pleased that you didn’t like Joey’s secret. I’ll speak to Mr. Sonny, and he can deal with Joey.”
Suddenly the macaroni tasted wonderful. Ryan knew that the secret he shared with Samantha was one he would keep. It was a good one. Soon he would see four fluffy baby birds in the nest, and that made him happy.

I have a brother who was associated with a large university. He told of a student athlete who was an outstanding hurdler. The young man was blind. Rex asked him, “Don’t you ever fall?” “I have to be exact,” the athlete responded. “I measure each time before I jump. One time I didn’t, and I nearly killed myself.” The young man then spoke of the countless hours his father had devoted over the years teaching, helping, and showing him how to hurdle, until he became one of the best.
How could this young man fail with a team like that—a father and a son.

As a Latter-day Saint among many age mates of other faiths, I need a strong foundation in order to be able to withstand all the temptations around me. Thanks to the New Era, I can learn from the experiences of other youth and read messages from General Authorities and our dear prophet. Your words have helped strengthen my faith and testimony.
Nabagereka P., Uganda

My father was quite surprised to discover that the pumpkin seeds he planted last year decided to sprout in the middle of the melon patch this summer. The melons were coming along quite well—but so were the pumpkins. So well, in fact, that my father was tempted to let the pumpkin plants continue to grow. Yet he knew if he did, the pumpkins would stifle the growth of the melons.

So he had a choice to make. He could either pull up the pumpkins so the melons would have a better chance of flourishing or let the pumpkin plants grow and watch them possibly crowd out the melon plants, which would likely produce a lesser product from both. Pumpkins or melons? This choice was between two good options.

In weighing the two, my father decided to pull up the prosperous pumpkin plants. Not only were they late to sprout, but he decided that he wanted the planned melons more than he wanted the surprise pumpkins.

At a virtual focus group with youth in California, we asked quorum and class presidents what they had observed after holding weekly presidency meetings. A 14-year-old unmuted her microphone before we even finished asking the question and said, “I feel closer to the Savior. Because when I started thinking more often about how to help my friends become closer to Him, I came closer to Him too.”

When I was the age of a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, it seemed every Saturday morning for months I was awakened to the sound of my father doing yard work outside my bedroom window. (It took me a long time to figure out why he always started his work under my window.) After a period of trying to ignore the noise, I would get up and join my father in my weekly responsibility to help him maintain the yard surrounding our home.
Perhaps after a few mornings of my not arising very quickly, or due to other similar events when his repeated encouragement was needed before I acted, one day my father sat with me and showed me a large photograph of a sloth, an animal known for its laziness. Then he opened the Doctrine and Covenants and had me read, “For behold, it is not meet that I should command in all things; for he that is compelled in all things, the same is a slothful and not a wise servant; wherefore he receiveth no reward” (D&C 58:26; emphasis added). Since that day, that image and its lesson have been valuable assets in my life.

When Primary general president Cheryl C. Lant was sent to visit with children in South Africa in 2005, she worried about whether she could emotionally handle the living conditions of some of the children. When she actually met with them, though, her reaction surprised her.
“I did see children in terrible conditions, and I knew I could do nothing to change it,” Sister Lant told students during a February 2006 devotional at Brigham Young University. “But I also felt an overwhelming love for them and a sense of God’s love for them.”

The next morning I sat shyly, uncertainly, on a big wooden kitchen chair, Oscar, my teddy bear, on my lap. I looked across the table at a long, tall newspaper with a strong hand clutching each side. I knew it was Grandpa because when I had walked down the stairs and peeked timidly around the corner, he had lowered the paper and winked at me.
“Would you like some hot chocolate, dear?” Grandma had asked in her quiet voice.
I jumped slightly at her question, chewed on Oscar’s ear, and tried desperately to think of an answer. It shouldn’t have been so hard, but you see, Grandma was very quiet, and I was a little afraid of her.
“Yes, dear,” I heard the deep voice from behind the newspaper answer.
Oh, I thought, embarrassed. I was glad I hadn’t answered. I soon learned that Grandma would never ask me if I wanted some. If I did, I had to ask her.

Rebecca, age 9 “Our family was driving in the car, and I could tell that my parents were unhappy with each other, so I started to sing. I sang “I Have a Family Here on Earth” (Children’s Songbook, page 188). In just a couple of minutes, they smiled at me and things were good again.”

On one occasion, I spent a few minutes with a young man who had left high school and entered the military. Now he was trying to decide what to do with his life. I encouraged him to return to finish high school.

I did not provide him with money; the Church had no school for him, not even a scholarship. In those few minutes, I simply taught him that self-reliance which is such a part of our way of life. Even though over age, he returned to finish high school, and now he provides for his family and encourages his children in their search for truth.

“On fast Sunday, Íngrid is the first in our family to get up and bear her testimony in sacrament meeting, and she bears her testimony like an adult,” her dad said. “Sometimes she’ll ask me, ‘Are you going to bear your testimony today?’ I’ll usually tell her that I’m not sure, because it’s hard for me to speak in public. And she’ll tease me by saying, ‘If you don’t, I’ll call you from the pulpit to come up and do it.’ I’ll say, ‘Don’t you dare!’ She smiles happily if I do go up.”

“Hurry, Cathy,” Anne called over her shoulder to her sister as they ran along the road.
“I am hurrying!” Cathy yelled back, barely three steps behind her. Laughing, they turned into the parking lot of Mr. Parkins’s Plant Place. Breathing hard, they burst through the front door into the rich smell of potting soil and damp, growing things.
“Well, hello, girls.” Mr. Parkins smiled as he looked up. “Did you come to work?”
“Yes, please,” Anne said. “Today and tomorrow too, if you need us. We want to earn money to buy a present for Mum.”
In the early spring Mr. Parkins often paid the neighborhood children to help transplant seedlings. “Where is your cousin Emmy today?” he asked.
“She went to help Granny,” Cathy said.
“Well, come along.” Mr. Parkins led them into one of the long, low greenhouses. “We’re working on the petunias right now, and I need all the help I can get.”
In the greenhouse, long tables were covered with young petunia plants. Allen, Tom, and Lance were already working and laughing loudly.
Mr. Parkins stayed long enough to make sure the girls knew what to do and to check on the boys’ work. “I’m sure glad the five of you could come,” he said as he left.
The potting soil was crumbly and moist on Anne’s fingers as she carefully separated the plants. Cathy worked beside her, filling each of the small containers with soil and planting the seedlings. For a while no one said anything.
Then Lance elbowed Allen and whispered something in his ear. Allen laughed loudly, then whispered in Tom’s ear. Tom snorted. Then Lance stopped whispering and started saying nasty things out loud.
Anne’s fingers started to shake, and she felt slightly sick. “I wish Emmy was here,” she whispered to Cathy.
Cathy nodded. “So do I.” Emmy would know what to do. She was as brave as Nephi.
But Anne wasn’t Emmy, and she didn’t know what to do. She was afraid if she asked the boys to stop, they would just get worse. Now they were using words Anne knew were not right.
She looked over at Cathy. Cathy’s lips were pressed tightly together, and she was about to cry.
“Shall we leave?” Anne whispered.
“But I want to buy something nice for Mum,” Cathy said quietly.
“Me too,” Anne said. “Besides, Mr. Parkins said he needs all the help he can get.”
Cathy nodded and blinked as two tears slid down her cheeks. She hid her eyes so Lance, Allen, and Tom wouldn’t know she was crying.
Anne moved closer to her. She was angry now. If only Emmy was here! she thought. If only I knew what to do!
Suddenly she had an idea. Softly she started humming her favorite hymn. When Cathy heard the first few notes, she looked up at Anne in surprise. Then she smiled. By the end of the hymn, they were humming softly together.
The boys were still making ugly jokes, but Anne didn’t feel angry anymore. She and Cathy hummed “I Am a Child of God” a little louder, and by the end of that song, Lance was quieter. Anne, feeling braver, gave him a big smile as she started singing a Primary song. Cathy joined in, and their voices echoed sweetly through the greenhouse, while the boys gradually became silent.
Anne and Cathy were still singing Primary songs when Mr. Parkins poked his head in an hour later. “Sounds good, girls.” He came over to the long table. “Your work is good, too. But it’s almost dark—you’d better get home. I’m glad you’ll be coming back tomorrow—I can always use good, cheerful help.”
Rubbing the soil off their fingers, the children followed Mr. Parkins out of the greenhouse and into the early evening light. Lance, Allen, and Tom scooted past Anne and Cathy.
“Babies,” Lance hissed as he ran past. Anne just smiled at him again.
The air was cooler now, but the girls didn’t feel cold.
“I feel warm and happy,” Cathy said, looking up at the pink sky.
“Me, too,” Anne said. “Race you home!”

“Nathaniel, would you be a narrator in the Primary program in sacrament meeting?” Sister Mitchell asked before sharing time started.
Nathaniel hesitated. He really wanted to say yes, but sometimes he stuttered, especially when he was nervous. How could he narrate the whole program?
“Maybe,” he said. “But I s-s-tutter.”
Sister Mitchell smiled. “I know. We’d love your help, though. You’re the oldest one in Primary, and the other kids look up to you. I know you can do a great job.”
“Th-th-anks.” Nathaniel was glad that Sister Mitchell believed in him. Still, he didn’t know if he should say yes. What if he stuttered in front of the whole ward?
Later Nathaniel and his family gathered in the living room to talk about what they’d learned in Church that day.
“How was Primary, Nathaniel?” Dad asked.
Nathaniel sighed. “Sister Mitchell asked me to be a narrator in the Primary program. I want to do it—especially since I’m l-l-leaving Primary soon. But I d-d-don’t know if I can.”
“Hmm,” Dad said. “Are you worried you’ll stutter? It’ll be OK, even if you do.”
Mom put her arm around him. “It’s your choice,” she said. “We’ll pray for you.”
“Thanks,” Nathaniel said.
He thought about it the whole next week. By Sunday he’d made up his mind.
“I’d like to be a n-n-narrator for the Primary pr-pr-program,” he told Sister Mitchell in Primary.
“That’s great,” Sister Mitchell said. “Thank you! That will be a big help.”
For the next month, Nathaniel worked on his part. He said his lines over and over until he’d memorized them. But sometimes he still stuttered.
One afternoon he was practicing a really tricky word. “I c-c-can’t d-d-do it!” he yelled in frustration.
Mom walked in and sat down on the couch next to him. “I know it’s hard, but you can do it,” she said. “Do you know the story about President Heber J. Grant learning to play baseball?”
He shook his head. What did baseball have to do with stuttering?
“When President Grant was young, he wanted to play baseball. None of the other boys wanted him on the team because he couldn’t throw the ball very far,” Mom said. “So he saved up his money, and he bought a ball. Then he practiced until he could throw the ball as well as anyone. Eventually he made the team.”
“But playing baseball’s n-n-not the same as s-s-stuttering,” Nathaniel said.
“No, it isn’t,” Mom said. “But President Grant had a challenge just like you do, and he practiced and practiced. And you know what? He did great even though it was hard for him.”
“Mom, I want to do m-m-my best, and I have been practicing a l-l-l-lot. But what if I s-s-till s-s-tutter?”
Mom smiled. “Doing our best doesn’t mean doing things perfectly. When we work hard and ask Heavenly Father for help, we are doing our best. It’s OK if you stutter, but don’t let it stop you from trying. Dad and I will be proud of you no matter what.”
Nathaniel kept practicing his lines every day. And he prayed for help to be brave. At the final practice for the program, he said his part and only stuttered a few times. He was ready.
The day of the program, Nathaniel said a quick prayer for help. When the program started, he felt warm inside. He knew he could do his best—stuttering or not.