Gospel Story Finder

In between serving slices of leche flan, a rich custard topped with burnt-sugar caramel, Maryjoy Morato, 17, of the Wilshire Ward, told how missionaries in the Philippines contacted her family and shared with them the gospel of Jesus Christ.
“They just knocked on the door one day,” she said. “But they were always welcome in our home because they would talk about good things.” Exposed to the light of the restored gospel, the entire family eventually joined the Church. Maryjoy’s father died, her mother remarried, and the family moved to America. “Members here are the same as in the Philippines,” she said. “There’s no change. They’re all nice.”

I drive an old car that lacked an interior dome light when I bought it. During the day the missing light didn’t matter, but at night I always felt a little nervous getting into my car in the dark. If I needed to follow written directions, I had to pull over under a streetlight. If I dropped anything, it was difficult to find. Having no interior light was inconvenient, but I got used to it.
When a friend returned my car after borrowing it, I discovered she had installed a new light. She told me the bulb had cost less than a dollar and took about a minute to install. It was wonderful! How had I ever lived without it?
During the next few weeks, I realized that finally having an interior car light was like finally having spiritual light. I had thought my life was okay the way it was, but in reality I was suffering from lack of spiritual light. My fear of entering a dark car reminded me of my fear of dying without having repented. Looking for streetlights so I could read instructions was like having gospel conversations with trusted friends—but I couldn’t always rely on borrowed light. Losing items in the dark was like forgetting gospel principles, which happens easily without the light of the Spirit. I was still able to drive my car and get through life without the light, but I was missing out on blessings of peace, guidance, and understanding. All it took to start bringing back the light was repentance—a process that began when I saw the bishop and started attending church again.

Church members in London celebrated the anniversary by helping clean up Tottenham, a city that experienced the August 2011 riots. In a regional park, volunteers weeded, built flower beds, and cleared litter.
Members also served at a children’s hospice, where they cleaned garden pathways and made the hospice grounds more accommodating to the children and their families. Charlotte Illera helped coordinate the project. “It was really hard work, but it was really sort of joyful work as well,” she said. “Even a little thing like sweeping up can be such a benefit. You don’t need to have any great skills. Just little things can make a difference to other people.”
Rudi Champagnie shared his view on the inspiration behind the First Presidency’s invitation to serve: “I think this revelation was to bring us closer together—to bring us out in the community, to meet new people.” He continued, “To see the Church getting involved in the community is a wonderful thing. To be a part of it is even more special. It has strengthened my testimony, and it has given me the desire to do more.”

September 21, 1823
The angel Moroni appears to Joseph and tells him about the gold plates and the work Joseph is called to do.

A final example of being blessed during adversity is finding heightened joy in the return of temple ordinances.
This is best described with a story. When Sister Kaitlyn Palmer received her mission call last April, she was excited to be called as a missionary but felt it equally important and special to go to the temple to receive her endowment and make sacred covenants. Shortly after she scheduled her endowment, the announcement came that all temples would temporarily close due to the worldwide pandemic. After receiving this heartbreaking information, she then learned she would attend the missionary training center (MTC) virtually from her home. Despite these disappointments, Kaitlyn focused on keeping her spirits high.
In the intervening months, Sister Palmer never lost hope of attending the temple. Her family fasted and prayed that temples would open prior to her departure. Kaitlyn would often start her home MTC mornings by saying, “Is today going to be the day we receive a miracle and temples open back up?”
On August 10, the First Presidency announced that Kaitlyn’s temple would reopen for living ordinances on the exact day her early-morning flight to her mission was scheduled. She would not be able to attend the temple and make her flight. With little hope for success, her family contacted temple president Michael Vellinga to see if there was any way the miracle they had been praying for could be realized. Their fasting and prayers were answered!
At 2:00 a.m., hours before her flight departure, Sister Palmer and her family, in tears, were greeted at the temple doors by the smiling temple president with the words, “Good morning, Palmer family. Welcome to the temple!” As she completed her endowment, they were encouraged to move quickly, as the next family was waiting at the temple doors. They drove directly to the airport just in time to make her flight to her mission.

My poor bones! I had the bone marrow test yesterday. Pain! First they deadened my hip, and then they went in and deadened the membrane around the bone. After that they drilled into the bone by twisting a needle until it penetrated the inner membrane. That’s what hurt. I have to do it again Friday.
Something else happened yesterday, something nearly as bad as the bone marrow test. One of the interns came into my room while I was reading my Book of Mormon and asked me if I was a Mormon. When I told him I was, he tried to tell me how foolish I was. He was a little bitter toward the Church and told me something about a brother who had joined. I told him I knew the Church was true.
“Why don’t you call your missionaries then and have them come and give you a blessing?” he asked.
I told him the missionaries were on their way right then.
“And you really think that will help?”
I told him I knew that if my Father in Heaven wanted me to get well, I would.
“You don’t know what you have!” he shouted. He was angry. “You’ll be dead in six months no matter what you do!” When he realized what he had said, a shocked look came on his face. I asked him to leave.
When the missionaries came, they gave me a comfort blessing, but no promise. It helped, and I was able to sleep for a while, but when it came time for the operation, I was petrified. When they took me to the operating room, I walked down the hall like a zombie.

Stowed away in grandfather’s barn
Is a beautiful doll with hair made of yarn.
Oh, beautiful is her china face
And her dress, made of pink and white lace.
All these years up there she lay;
She long ago began to fade.
She’s been waiting for a little girl’s touch
And a little girl’s voice: “I love you so much.”
But there’s always tomorrow for dreams to come true,
For the China doll and a little girl, too.

During the summer of 2001, I had the opportunity to serve as a young performing missionary in Nauvoo, Illinois. That summer I learned that when you devote your time to the Lord, you can have amazing experiences.
Every day the young missionaries performed in the “Nauvoo Adventure”—a musical depicting the pioneers’ life from Quincy, Illinois, through their journey west. After performances people would often tell me, “It looked like you were really crying up there. You should go into acting as a career.”
I never really knew how to respond to this statement. I was crying—but I definitely wasn’t acting. When you reenact the martyrdom of Joseph Smith once and sometimes twice a day, six days a week for over three months, something happens to you.
I remember the first time I cried on stage. There I was on the ground, at the foot of a coffin made to look like Joseph Smith’s, and my body started to shake. I was no longer acting the part of a missionary. I was a missionary. I loved this man, Joseph Smith, with whom I had never talked.
Day by day I became less ashamed of my tears. Toward the end of the summer, I no longer wanted to hide under a bushel, or under my bed. I wanted everyone to know the peace I felt, to know the peace that comes from having the Holy Ghost confirm the gospel is true.
I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. He still is. I felt his humble spirit pervade Nauvoo and know that he could have only done what he did by a power larger than what mortal man can muster. I know the Book of Mormon is true. I know Jesus Christ is the Savior of all mankind.

When is the right time? It takes only a little thought to decide just when the right time is to do anything. Even as you read these next few lines, you will recognize that it takes just a second more of your time to do the right thing at the right time. Suppose a friend rounds the corner at full speed, trips on a banana peel, and goes head over heels onto the sidewalk or grass. It’s pretty easy to laugh at how funny he looks as he goes twirling through the air. Sometimes we do laugh but stop suddenly when we see a cut head or a bleeding hand. Only then do we realize that this was the wrong time to laugh.

Georgia Portlock in the Drennan’s ward gave out many books. “I love to talk about the Church, and it made me feel great to give the books to people,” she said. “At least they’ll have a copy of the Book of Mormon, and I don’t care if it sits on their shelf for a while. One day something will come up and they’ll read it and understand it. That’s what happened to me. My son gave me a Book of Mormon, and it sat on the shelf for ten years until I read it. When I did, it. was like I was burning up, and in three weeks I asked to be baptized.”

“You want me to what?” Jason asked.
“Go without eating or drinking for a day,” Amanda said.
“Are you crazy?”
Amanda never got too excited by Jason’s complaints. The two of them had become good friends when they were in a play together at school. When he found out she was a member of the Church, he started asking a lot of questions. Finally, she got him to take the missionary lessons. A month later, he had been baptized.
“It’s called fasting,” she said. “It’s something we do once a month.”
“You people just keep after a guy, don’t you? At first it was ‘Just listen to the missionaries. It’s only six lessons.’ I agreed to that. And then it was ‘Just read a few pages of the Book of Mormon.’ And I went along with that. And then it was ‘Don’t use alcohol, tobacco, coffee, and tea.’ And I went along with that. And then it was ‘Go to church every Sunday for three hours.’ And then it was tithing. And then it was ‘Get baptized.’ And I went along with that. But now it’s, ‘Don’t eat.’ This time you’ve gone too far.”
She smiled. “Poor baby.”
“I’m serious. Eating is number one on my list of favorite things to do.”
“There are blessings for fasting.”
“Blessings? What possible good thing can come from not eating?”
“All I’m asking you to do is just try. There’s more to fasting than not eating or drinking.”
“More? Do you give blood too?”
“I meant not eating is only a small part of what fasting is all about,” Amanda said.
“Not eating will never be a small part of anything. I like to eat, okay?”
“I’ve noticed. Just try it one time. You’ll see. I’ll help you get through it.”
Jason sighed. “All right. You win. You always win.”
“Is that why you got baptized?”
“No.”
“Why then?”
He became unusually serious. “I found out that what the missionaries were telling me was true.”
“You can get the same kind of testimony about fasting.”
The next Saturday was the first weekend of the month. Amanda invited Jason to lunch with her family. It would be their last meal before they began fasting.
After everyone else had left, Jason was still at the table. She watched him eat another slice of bread and jam, then drink another glass of milk. “Done now?” she asked.
He looked around the room. “You got any candy? A cookie? Maybe some ice cream?”
“Jason, we’ve already had dessert.”
“That was ten minutes ago.” He looked in her fridge but didn’t see anything he wanted. “I guess I’m ready.”
“Okay. Fasting is more than just going hungry. There’s a spiritual side to it too. So usually I like to have a prayer when I start. Most of the time I just go in my room and say my own prayer, but maybe today we could say a prayer right here. Is that okay?”
As soon as their prayer was over, Jason said, “Did you know there was an ice cream bar in your freezer?”
“Too late. We’ve already started.”
“That’s it for 24 hours?”
“That’s right. We’ll eat after we get home from church tomorrow.”
He looked at his watch. Two minutes had passed. “I’m not going to make it.”
At two o’clock Jason went home. At seven-thirty that night he came back. “This isn’t working out.”
“What happened?”
“I mowed the lawn. It was so hot out. I went to get something to drink and then I remembered I’m fasting. So I didn’t have anything, but now my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.”
“Oh, I should have told you. I usually do things like that before I start fasting. Sorry. Next time you’ll know.”
“There’s not going to be a next time. This is too hard. Besides, my aunt is staying with us for the weekend. Since I didn’t eat I had to tell her why.”
“What did you say?” Amanda asked.
“I said I was fasting. She said she knows a good psychologist. I had to get away from her for a while.” He looked at his watch. “Just 18 hours to go and then I will be able to eat.”
“Jason, I found a scripture for you to read about fasting. It’s in the Doctrine and Covenants. ‘Verily, this is fasting and prayer, or in other words, rejoicing and prayer’” (D&C 59:14).
Jason shook his head. “Let me tell you—fasting is not rejoicing.”
“It can be.”
“How?”
“We have a physical side and a spiritual side to us, right?” she said.
“Okay.”
“Usually the physical side is dominant, but when we fast, it gives our spiritual side a chance to show itself. So instead of thinking about what you’re giving up, try to get closer to Father in Heaven. Maybe there’s some encouragement he wants you to have. Listen with your spiritual side.”
“How do I do that?”
“That’s one of the reasons I read the scriptures and pray and go to church and seminary—to find out what message Heavenly Father might have for me.”
“If somebody wants to get a message to me, all they have to do is put it on a cereal box. I always read those. Speaking of cereal …”
“When I fast, I like to read the Book of Mormon and my patriarchal blessing. And I like to write in my journal.”
“Sounds boring.”
“Not to me. The way I look at it, life is like a rough game and fasting is like calling time out so you can rest.”
“Usually during a time out, the players get Gatorade.”
“Jason, c’mon, get your mind off food.”
He fell to the floor as if he were about to die. “I’m not going to make it, Amanda. You go on without me.”
“Go home, Jason. Spend some time with yourself. Think about your life.”
Jason went home and, because every TV commercial was about food or drinks, he decided the only way he was going to get through the night without eating was to go to bed early.
The next morning he met Amanda in the hallway before church started.
“This is the best part of fasting,” she said just before sacrament meeting began.
Somewhere during the meeting he realized he didn’t feel the same urgency to eat as he had the night before. He was still hungry, but he felt like he could get by until church was over. He thought maybe Amanda was right and that his spiritual side was now a little stronger than normal. He appreciated the testimonies of people who told how Heavenly Father had answered their prayers.
Amanda brushed by him on her way to the stand. She went to the podium and began to speak. She said she was proud of Jason for having the courage to be baptized, and this was the first time he had ever fasted, and how proud of him she was that he was willing to do that. She talked about how much she loved her family. Then she said, “My dad once told me when we give our testimonies we should always talk about how the Savior has blessed our life. I’m grateful to know he died for my sins. I know that someday I’ll see him.”
Jason, listening to Amanda, felt tears in his eyes. He was wiping his eyes with his hand when Amanda’s mother leaned over and handed him a tissue. He nodded and wiped his eyes.
When Amanda sat down, she reached over and touched his sleeve. “Now it’s your turn.”
Jason thought about it. He did have something to say. He felt he had made the right decision in being baptized. Now he had something to hold on to. He was just about to stand up when the bishop announced the closing song and prayer.
“Next month, okay?” Amanda whispered.
The other meetings he attended that day seemed even better than usual. Jason knew it was because he was fasting.
And then church was over. “Well, what do you think?” Amanda asked as they walked out to her family’s car.
“It wasn’t too bad actually.”
“You want to try it again next month?” she asked.
“Yeah, I think I will.”
Jason went home. His aunt was busy in the kitchen. “I made you spaghetti and garlic bread,” she said, looking worried.
“That’d be great.”
“The boy’s going to eat something,” his aunt called to the rest of the neighborhood. “I knew my spaghetti would bring him to his senses.”
Jason sighed. Someday he would try to explain all this to his family.
As he ate with his family, everything tasted better than he had ever remembered. He kept telling his aunt how wonderful the food tasted.
When he was finished eating, he felt wonderful. It surprised him, but he looked forward to fasting next month. The scriptures are right after all, he thought. Fasting is rejoicing.
On his way to Amanda’s house, he wondered if the ice cream bar was still in her freezer.

“I must have missed the bus,” I thought. For 15 minutes, I had been waiting in the icy gutter that was my bus stop, with no bus in sight. The day was unusually cold. Despite my puffy coat, I couldn’t stay warm. I felt hopeless, standing in the dark, in the cold, waiting for a bus that had probably already come and gone.
Finally, I sent a plea heavenward: “Heavenly Father, please just help me get to school.” It was simple but desperate and pleading.
A car on the other side of the road pulled over and turned around. As it neared, I saw the public transportation logo on the car. A woman leaned toward the open window and asked, “Are you waiting for bus 14? I’m pretty sure it already went by. Hop in. I was just patrolling the area because people can freeze on cold mornings like this.”
I thanked her repeatedly.
“Thank you for using public transportation,” she responded.
I sent another thanks heavenward as I warmed my hands.
A lot of the time, our blessings come through other people. No matter how small a blessing is, I know that I still need to thank the Lord. He is mindful of me, so I need to be mindful of Him.

Since both of my parents have passed away, it became necessary this year to clean out their home to prepare it for sale. During these past few months, as my siblings and I cleaned and sorted through my parents’ home, we found family histories and many important papers and documents. It has been fascinating to read through personal histories and patriarchal blessings of my parents and grandparents. I have been reminded of the covenants they made and kept.
My grandmother Ellen Hanks Rymer was a young mother in 1912 when she received her patriarchal blessing. When I read her blessing, these lines jumped off the page and stayed in my mind: “Thou wast chosen from before the foundation of the earth, and a chosen spirit to come forth in this day. … Thy testimony shall be magnified and thou shalt be able to testify. … The destroyer has sought to destroy thee, but if thou wilt cleave unto thy God, he [the destroyer] shall not have power to harm thee. Thou through thy faithfulness shalt have great power and the destroyer shall flee from before thee because of thy righteousness. … When the hour of fear and trials come upon thee if thou wilt retire to thy secret closet in prayer thy heart shall be comforted and the obstacles removed.”2
My grandmother was promised that if she would keep her covenants and stay close to God, Satan could have no power over her. She would find comfort and help in her trials. These promises were fulfilled in her life.
In reading from my grandmother’s personal history, I learned of her great joy in her covenants. She loved going to the temple and performing the ordinances for thousands of those who had died. It was her life’s mission. She served as a temple worker for over 20 years in the Manti Utah Temple. She wrote that she had experienced many miraculous healings in order for her to raise her children and to serve others by doing their work in the temple. As her grandchildren, if we knew anything about Grandma Rymer, it was that she was a righteous woman who kept her covenants and wanted us to do the same. When people sift through our possessions after we have died, will they find evidence that we have kept our covenants?

Elder Cook learned at a young age that such seemingly small acts are every bit as important as any large deed. He recalls:
“When I was young, I … wanted to prove myself through some heroic gesture. My great-grandfather David Patten Kimball was one of the young men who helped carry the members of the Martin handcart company across the Sweetwater River. That sounded like the kind of consecration for which I was looking. Later, as I visited with my grandfather Crozier Kimball, he explained that when President Brigham Young sent the men on their rescue mission, he instructed them to do everything they possibly could to save the handcart company. Their consecration was specifically to ‘follow the prophet.’ My grandfather told me that consistent, faithful dedication to one’s duty or to a principle is to be much admired. As heroic as it was for David Patten Kimball to help rescue the pioneers, it might be equally heroic today to follow the prophet by not watching immoral movies or by refraining from using vulgar language.”4

The Attributes of the Savior
Elder Hanks wanted his missionaries to understand the attributes of the Savior. He had us read the Book of Mormon, marking each reference to the Savior, and then asked us to think about the implications of being a follower of Christ. “Therefore, what manner of men ought ye to be? Verily I say unto you, even as I am” (3 Ne. 27:27).
His testimony and the demonstrated love, appreciation, and awe which he obviously felt for the Savior established an example which has been highly influential.

“I was happy when my parents, my brother, and I were sealed in the temple,” says Juanita Leon, 12. She explains that her father used to own a restaurant and would drink a lot. “Then one day, a boy came by and talked to my father about the Church. We received all the discussions and were baptized two weeks later. A month after our baptism, my father was called as the president of the San Benito Branch. A year later, we were sealed in the temple. My father doesn’t drink anymore.”

Her father chuckled. “He’d have to, to convince a constable sent to arrest him, and a hardhead like you. I’d like to hear him speak. My family and I will join you next Sunday.”
At noon on Sunday the Weston family began the long walk to the Benbow farm. Charity didn’t mind walking. She’d waited all week for this. Maybe something exciting would happen!
The meeting hall was almost filled when they arrived. She sat high on her father’s knee so that she could see over the heads of the people.
Suddenly a wave of whispering rolled through the people. Charity turned and saw two men dressed in dark suits sit down behind them.
Charity heard Father whisper to Mother, “Those are the rector’s clerks. He must have sent them to find out what is so all-fired appealing about this new preacher. I hope that they won’t cause any trouble. I have my heart set on hearing a good old-fashioned sermon.”
The audience quieted as Mr. Woodruff stood to speak. In a short time another wave flowed over the audience. This time it was the power of the Holy Ghost. Everyone sitting there could feel the truth of Mr. Woodruff’s words. They knew that he’d been sent to teach them about the Savior.
Tears rolled unchecked down her mother’s cheeks, and her father’s arm tightened around Charity as he grew more absorbed in the sermon.
When Mr. Woodruff finished speaking, he invited everyone to join the true church. Her father and mother stood up, ready to join those seeking to be baptized. Before they could move, the two clerks shouldered their way toward the pulpit.
The crowd parted as the two black-garbed men made their way to the front. Their faces were solemn, and Charity began to shiver. What would they do?
Mr. Woodruff greeted them pleasantly and waited for them to speak. With heads high, they humbly asked to join Christ’s church.
Another wave of noise filled the hall. Everyone wanted to talk about the clerks, the constable, Elder Woodruff—and their own baptisms! This was unheard of! It was an exciting time.
Father’s chuckle soothed her like the sound of water flowing over smooth rocks. “That does it for the rector,” he said and chuckled again. “He’s lost a constable and two clerks. I don’t think he’ll dare send anyone else to hear this preacher. Any good man will recognize the truth of his words. Any good person would feel the Spirit. I believe him. I’m going to be baptized into Christ’s church by someone with the authority to do so.”
Charity held onto his hand as he cleared a path to the front for his family. She felt a feeling of peace and security, and she knew that her father and mother would guide her along the right path until she, too, was old enough to be baptized.

I once visited a family in Chile. Their father had died in an accident a month before I came. One of the children was a boy named Benjamin. He was 10 years old.
Before his dad’s accident, Benjamin gave a family home evening lesson. It was about the stripling warriors from the Book of Mormon (see Alma 53:16–22; 56:42–57). He talked about how brave they were and how they trusted God.
When Benjamin’s mom heard about the accident, she thought of Benjamin’s lesson. She told her family, “We need to be brave like the stripling warriors. We have another battle to fight.”
It was hard for Benjamin’s family. It felt like their lives were turned upside down. They had to move to another house to live with their grandma. And they really missed their dad. But they knew they would be together with him again someday. They decided to be a stripling warrior family. Benjamin told us, “I’m being brave.”
I walked into their house wanting to comfort them. But I was the one who left feeling blessed. Benjamin and his family are fighting this battle so bravely. Their faith is inspiring to me.

My mother and I were baptized on 5 October 1997. It was such a great blessing for me. I had always felt something important was missing in my life, and I could not understand what it was. But while studying the Book of Mormon I felt that this book was true and that the Church was true. This feeling grew stronger and stronger. My faith grew too. I read the Book of Mormon every day. When the missionaries came to visit us, they asked my mother and me if we had asked the Lord if the Book of Mormon was true. I told them I did not have any doubts about the Book of Mormon. My feelings about the book were strong from the minute I started to read.
Julia Martynova,Obukhovsky Branch, St. Petersburg Russia South District

I think of my own grandfather, Nels Monson, who waited seven years for his sweetheart to become his bride. The first entry in his missionary journal expressed eloquently his gratitude: “Today, in the Salt Lake Temple, Maria Mace became my eternal wife.” The entry written three days later was more somber: “Tonight the bishop came to our house. I have been called to serve a two-year mission to Scandinavia. My dear wife will remain at home and sustain me.” I treasure such faith. I cherish such commitment.