Gospel Story Finder

In conclusion, I would like to read to you an excerpt from a letter we received from the mother of a student:

[When] our son . . . came to BYU–Idaho . . . he had struggled with his testimony for many years and . . . lack[ed] direction. While on campus one time . . . I . . . observed . . . professors . . . greeting my son and even hugging him. That was amazing . . . . His schoolwork improved. His outlook improved and his spirit soared. He was anxiously working on sending in his papers for his mission . . . .

In the summer of 2006 while attending Summer Semester, our son went tubing and drowned. In our sorrow and grief, BYU–Idaho was extraordinary. They helped us meet with the boys that were with him so we might all find comfort together . . . . We were overwhelmed with the support and love from these students . . . . We flew out a week later for a memorial on campus, . . . and we marveled that we could have been so blessed to have him attend this campus. You will never know what peace it has brought to our hearts to know just how much our son was loved . . . . His peers, his professors, his bishop . . . all helped us to feel the spirit of [Ricks at] BYU–Idaho.

Not many years ago I had a similar experience. I knew that I should tell the bishop of my mistake. I knew that if I were to die without confessing, I wouldn’t be able to look my Maker in the eye without guilt. But then I thought of the bishop. I felt that he respected me. I was the Laurel president. Over the years I had held many callings in Young Women. The thought of telling the bishop was painful to me. I felt that he would lose respect for me.

I decided to tell the bishop anyway to clear my conscience. I was extremely nervous when I called and asked if I could see him. The bishop was very understanding. He didn’t lecture me. He assured me that my sin was forgivable and that my Father in Heaven loved me very much and wanted me to be happy. As soon as I told him, the burden lifted and I felt clean once again. The next time I saw him he treated me as if nothing had happened. He never mentioned it again.

I have since thought about my past mistake, but the memory of it is as if it were another life. Two years after this incident I was married in the temple to a wonderful husband. We have now been married six months.

If I hadn’t taken that step I wouldn’t have been worthy to go to the temple.

It’s really worth it! No one needs to know but the bishop, the Lord, and you. Be brave and good luck.

Name withheld.

As a BYU undergraduate student, one of the most impactful experiences I had was participating in the BYU Jerusalem Study Abroad. The scriptures just came alive as I studied there.

One day our group had some free time, so we left the Jerusalem Center and quickly went to the Garden of Gethsemane. I found a quiet place in the garden and began praying. After a short time a gardener asked me to follow him. We crossed the street, and he opened a gate. On the other side of the gate was a large private area that was part of the Garden of Gethsemane. The gardener let me walk in and motioned to me that I would be alone and that I could take my time there to pray. That day, part of the garden was for me. I had a very personal, private moment in which I prayed, expressed gratitude, and pondered the importance of the Savior’s great atoning sacrifice for me.

My husband and I both fell sick to COVID-19 in June 2021, to the point where we could barely get up. Our two babies—a six-month-old and a two-year-old—were healthy, but they needed to eat, and I, their mother, couldn’t even get out of bed.
My mother asked us to go over to her place so she could care for me and my kids. My dilemma was having to choose between the wellbeing of my parents or my children. My father and brother were on heavy medication for conditions unrelated to COVID-19. I did not want to expose my extended family to the virus, but my kids needed someone who was able to take care of them.
It was my mother’s birthday that day we went over. She took care of me and my father, and my siblings took care of my kids. My husband, who is also the bishop in our ward, did not come because he needed to be in the same lockdown area as his ward members in case they ever put up boundaries within the Suva area; our country was on lockdown.
My mum nursed me back to health and then fell sick to COVID herself. By this time, Fiji’s health system was so stressed that it took days for authorities to respond to our emergency call. We were told to take her to the hospital ourselves. My mum was put in a tent for COVID patients. Conditions in the tent were so poor that my father felt we needed to do something.
One day he walked right into the tent filled with COVID patients because my mother needed help to get to the bathroom, and no one was there to help her. His heart was heavy for the other patients in there, as well. Mum was moved into ICU a few days later.
We started providing nutritional packs for COVID patients in tents, to boost their immune system. Our friends and family on Facebook—both members and nonmembers—helped us put together food packs and fruit to help patients get healthy.
A friend of mine asked me to make a bowl of soup for her friend, who was in the isolation centre for mothers, because they weren’t getting sufficient nourishment. This mother was in our lockdown area, but her family members could not cross the border to tend to her needs.
I felt we needed to make soup for everyone else who might be in a similar situation. I put up a post on Facebook to find others who would be willing to help make soup for pregnant mothers and mothers of newborns in isolation. This brought a lot of kindhearted individuals together, united in a cause to help those who were suffering.
My husband and brother-in-law cooked the first lot of soup and delivered it to the hall where the mothers were isolating. My father and siblings would make the deliveries but on days when my father felt too weak to drive, we would get my brother-in-law and my husband—who live in a different town—to help.
Mum spent nearly two months in the hospital and doctors kept saying she might not make it. Hospital workers even discarded her clothes, thinking she wouldn’t survive. We would have family prayer every night with my mum on video call and we would hear her breathing heavily, with the beeping sound of the monitoring machines in the background.
Most nights at 7 PM sharp, Mum called to listen in on our family prayer. On nights she didn’t call, we knew she was not feeling strong enough, so our prayers were even more earnest. Our service to the other patients and our wrestling with the Lord through personal and family prayers helped us through this frightening time.
Our service might have helped others, but we were the ones being blessed—Mum came home alive!

By 1844, Joseph's enemies, again former members of the Church, seemed bent on his destruction. He began planning with the brethren to move the Church west to the Rocky Mountains. Governor Ford, meanwhile, made plans to have Joseph taken east to Carthage.

Late on the evening of the 22nd, Orrin Porter Rockwell rowed Joseph, Hyrum and Willard Richards west across the Mississippi River. But the Lord required one more sacrifice of Joseph. On the 23rd a message from Nauvoo told Joseph that several feared that if the Church's enemies came to Nauvoo and found Joseph gone that the mob would attack the city. Joseph made the fateful decision. If his life was of no value to his friends, it was of no value to him. The small party returned to Nauvoo the next day and made preparation to go the Carthage.

Joseph knew what Hyrum only suspected, that they were riding to Carthage to seal their final testimony.
By the afternoon of June 27, 1844, only John Taylor and Willard Richards remained in the Carthage Jail with the Prophet and his brother Hyrum.

In a recent message of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s Music and the Spoken Word, a story was told about an elderly man and woman who had been married for many decades. Because the wife was slowly losing her sight, she could no longer take care of herself the way she had done for so many years. Without being asked, the husband began to paint her fingernails for her.
“He knew that she could see her fingernails when she held them close to her eyes, at just the right angle, and they made her smile. He liked to see her happy, so he kept painting her nails for more than five years before she passed away.”

Not long ago, Sister Gong and I became acquainted with a father and family blessed by a faithful priesthood brother who came to their bishop and asked if he (the priesthood brother) could be a home teaching companion with the father. The father was not active and not interested in home teaching. But as the father’s heart changed, he and this loving priesthood brother began visiting “their” families. After one such visit, his wife—herself not then attending church—asked her husband how things had gone. The father admitted, “I may have felt something”—then he went to the kitchen to get a beer.
But one thing followed another: tender experiences, ministering service, changing hearts, temple preparation class, coming to church, being sealed as a family in the holy temple. Imagine how grateful the children and grandchildren are to their father and mother and to the ministering brother who came as a friend and companion with their father to minister to and love others.

“I’m impressed with the five goals you scored in today’s game.” Collin turned around and realized the man was talking to him. “I’m starting a new soccer team and want to know if you would like to be on it.”
“Would I ever!” Collin thought. Collin was nine, and he enjoyed playing soccer. When he and his parents attended the first planning meeting for the new team, the coach explained that they would be playing in many tournaments on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. “Not on Sunday,” Collin thought.
After talking with his parents, Collin told the coach he wanted very much to be on the new team, but he would not play soccer on Sunday. He thought the coach would be mad and not let him be on the team. The coach paused for a moment and told Collin that he still wanted him to play. Collin felt peace in his heart and knew he had made the right decision. He was glad he had made the team. His parents reminded him that even if he had not been allowed to join the team, he had made the right decision.

One year we didn’t have much money for Christmas, so I prayed for help to be able to buy a gift for my stepdad, Adrian (whom my sister and I call Weegee). My sister and I had only two dollars between us to spend on gifts.
When my mom said we were going to a nearby thrift store to shop for Christmas gifts, I ran to my room and prayed for help: “Please help us find a gift for two dollars.”
At the store Elaina and I looked through the books and found a triple combination that looked brand new. We were so excited when we found it. I held onto it tight as we ran through the aisles to my mom. Jumping up and down, we said together, “We found a gift for Weegee!” At the checkout my mom asked, “How much for this?” The lady replied, “Two dollars.” My prayer was answered.
At that time our stepfather was not a member. He didn’t like Mormons, he didn’t believe in “the Mormon book,” and he didn’t like members picking us up for Young Men and Young Women activities. He even chased away the elders. But the ward members and missionaries didn’t give up on him.
On Christmas day we saved his gift for last. Elaina and I said, “This is the greatest gift anyone could ever give you! It will make you happy.” Weegee guessed a couple of times, and we laughed at his answers. We told him, “It’s an awesome gift! It’s going to change your life. It changed ours.”
Our mom was worried that he would be mad about our gift to him, but Elaina and I knew it was the right thing to do.
When he opened it, he thanked us for the gift and said he would read it.
Because we love Weegee, we wanted him to learn about Jesus Christ and the gift of His Atonement. We wanted him to believe like we do, to pray and repent, and to have the gospel in his life.
He read and prayed about the Book of Mormon, and with the help of the elders and ward members, he was baptized and is now a member of the Church. We were so happy to be sealed in the temple, and we know we will always be together forever as a family.

Once I listened as a humble sister, blind except for a small window of vision in one eye, bore witness of deeply spiritual experiences she enjoyed with her husband identifying individuals for temple work. She explained that internal bleeding had recently taken the last vestige of sight. Her testimony was sweet, her prayer that she might see enough to serve. Miraculously she was given even greater sight.

A few years ago, after a particularly discouraging day, I was returning home in the dark from my walk and noticed two people approaching our front door. It was President and Sister Tanner. In her hands Sister Tanner held a warm loaf of homemade bread. I knew she had had a busy day, and yet here she was at our door with an offering that was not only delicious to eat but the gesture of service was nourishing to our souls. Now I am in no way obligating President and Sister Tanner to appear at your apartments with a warm loaf of bread, but I am commending them to you as servants of The Bread of Life who will feed you with his good word and nourish you with his love.

While we were on an assignment in Japan, a Church leader invited us to visit his home. We were honored to have this opportunity but wondered what his wife would think of her husband’s last-minute invitation to bring visitors from Salt Lake City home. En route, the man telephoned his wife, giving her what seemed to me about 15 minutes to prepare for this unexpected company.
From the moment we stepped inside the front door, slipped off our shoes, and were graciously greeted by a young, soft-spoken Relief Society sister, I sensed a spirit of order, peace, and love. Little children scurried upstairs carrying their playthings. In this family of eight, with seven still living at home, it was clear what the family valued. Evidences of the Lord were all around—pictures of the Savior on the wall, a family photograph and picture of the temple in a prominent place, copies of well-used scriptures and Church videos neatly stacked on a nearby shelf. “The fruit of the Spirit, … love, joy, peace, … gentleness, goodness, faith,” seemed to reside in that home. I imagined the small room filled with children of all ages as parents sat around the low table to “talk of Christ, [to] rejoice in Christ, [to] preach of Christ, [to] prophesy of Christ, … that [their] children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.” I sensed the answer the children in this home would give to the question posed by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland: “Do [our] children know that we love God with all our heart and that we long to see the face—and fall at the feet—of His Only Begotten Son?” I believe the response to that question in this Japanese home would be a resounding yes!

In 1 Kings 3:9, King Solomon asks for 'an understanding heart.' This is a gift and virtue that is comes with much effort and time. A few years ago my wife Ligia asked us if would please, please clean up the kitchen while she was at Relief Society. We readily agreed and away she went content that she would come home to a spotless kitchen; dishes washed, counter cleaned, floor swept and if she was lucky maybe even mopped. As I prepared the dishwater my daughter yells out that a particular movie had just came on. We had both read the book and had a high interest in this movie. We hit upon a plan: since mom would be gone at least two hours we would wash the dishes during the long commercial breaks. In two hours we would have the kitchen finished, the movie watched and a happy mommy.

For whatever the reasons, that now escape me, something went wrong. We were only half way through the dishes when we saw the headlights coming on to the driveway Liz and I looked at each other like the proverbial "deer in the headlights." I think she said something like "we're toast." We made a mad dash to finish up the dishes and were fully engaged when she walked in. We were full of feeble excuses but they could not wash away the look of disappointment on her face. We still had not finished the dishes at 10:00pm that night. In one of my brighter and more insightful moments I said, "You're not upset about a few dirty dishes are you?" And with tender eyes she said, "It is not about the dishes."

Proverbs 2:2: "So that thou incline thine ear unto wisdom and apply thine heart to understanding." In another incident a few years ago while I was driving, I complained to my daughter that she had changed all of the radio stations in the car. She had removed my favorite station that played all the old songs. She mocked my music and ridiculed its simplicity. I finally found the station and we started to listen, I told here this particular song came out when she was in kindergarten, the next song came out when I was dating her mother, and the next song came out when I graduated from college. I admitted the songs were dumb, but I told her, it's not about the songs.

It is not only what it is but what it means. It is not about dirty dishes but respecting and honoring the requests of a love one. It is not about the simple little songs but what they mean to me as audible milestones in my life. And the meanings come from the heart. When you come to comprehend the meaning, you understand the heart and you grow in learning and wisdom.

It was at the beginning of our Primary lesson, when we are especially reverent, that Sister Gentry said, “I want you all to close your eyes.”
We all shut our eyes, wondering what she was going to do next.
“Very good. Now I want you to picture yourself walking up to the doors of the meetinghouse. As you look around, you see that the grass hasn’t been cut in a long time and that big clumps of weeds are growing here and there.
“You enter the building,” Sister Gentry continued, “and walk down the hall toward the chapel. The hallway is littered with crumpled papers and broken crayons. The walls have scribbles on them and dirty handprints. A big cobweb hangs in the corner.
“Passing the cultural hall, you see plates of stale food piled up on tables. Crushed cups and dirty napkins litter the floor. The stage curtains have gaping tears in them, and the carpet is badly stained from spills that were never cleaned up.
“Entering the chapel, you notice the shabby seats. On closer inspection, there are dust bunnies under the benches and in the corners. Discarded programs are sticking up behind the hymnbooks. And candy wrappers and dry cereal are scattered on the benches and floor.”
Sister Gentry paused for a moment. “Now open your eyes and tell me how you felt during your imaginary tour.”
We all agreed that we felt dirty and sad and wouldn’t want to go to such a place again.
Sister Gentry explained that our meetinghouse is the Lord’s house, a sacred place. And we all need to do our part in keeping it clean and beautiful so that His spirit will be there.

One such opportunity came unexpectedly. My companion and I were once “trapped” in a room surrounded by ministers from another church who were trying to discredit our teachings. We refused to contend with them and silently prayed for a way to escape. Then, a seminary lesson came to mind. I asked them, “How would you describe the taste of salt to someone who has never tasted it?” Some tried but could not do so, until one finally said, “It’s simple—just taste it!” I then held up my copy of the Book of Mormon and asked, “Has any of you read this book?” No one raised their hand or responded in the affirmative. Only silence ensued. That gave us the opportunity to bear our testimonies and invite them to read it for themselves. The encounter ended peacefully, and word of it spread in the community, opening doors that had previously been closed to us.

This was a special day in the life of Mark Newman. The sacred opportunity of sustaining a new prophet in last October’s solemn assembly was a special privilege for him. This great experience was framed by the other things that Mark’s Fridays have a way of requiring.
He had breakfast while catching a few more moments of study, then uttered a prayer about his part in the great assembly, and later, after the solemn assembly, he hurried to his math class at the University of Utah. All in a day’s experience, but a very special day after all.

I began seeking for ways that I could teach “The Living Christ” to our children. I recognized that they were young (our oldest was 11) and that this precious document was rather lengthy. But I had a desire, and after I prayed and thought about it often, the Spirit showed me how I could teach my family.
I had long collected pictures cut out of old Church magazines. I went to the box where I kept them and started pulling out pictures that seemed to match the different phrases in “The Living Christ.” For instance, for “He was the Great Jehovah of the Old Testament,” I found a picture of Christ, as Jehovah, talking with Moses. For the next phrase, “Under the direction of His Father,” I found a picture of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ standing together. Within a short time, I had gathered many pictures and paired them with their associated text from “The Living Christ.”
December seemed the perfect time for our family to start focusing on “The Living Christ.” Our children were excited and really got into our endeavor. We posted the pictures we were working on in our kitchen. I noticed that during the day, the kids would say the phrases as they passed by the pictures. When everyone had memorized the set of pictures on the wall, we put them away and started working on a new set.
With each picture, we discussed the gospel and life of Jesus Christ. Our family home evening lessons were filled with stories and lessons about the Savior. My husband taught some of the concepts in “The Living Christ,” bringing new insights.
Family prayers became more meaningful because the children gave more thought to Him in whose name they were praying. The Spirit filled our home. We felt like Nephi when he wrote, “We talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ” (2 Nephi 25:26). Our home became a place of greater peace.

As I was learning from my own true-life experience, I stood alone in my bedroom a few days after the operation, preparing to go to church. I held a tie in my hand and thought, Now what am I going to do with this silly tie? I thought about having my mother help me but soon rejected the idea, knowing she couldn’t go on my mission to tie my ties and otherwise care for me. I simply had to fend for myself. With patience, I tied my tie, and although I used my teeth a little, I learned I could do it and do it well. That day a window was opened to my mind, and I could clearly see that with patience, faith, and determination, I would be able to handle almost any challenge I would face.

As a young boy living in Mexico, I was given the job of watching our cattle in the field as they grazed. One day I became bored with this chore and went to play, leaving the cattle unattended. I played all day, returning to my chore only when it began to get late.
As I approached the field, I realized that the cattle were gone! I could picture my father’s face—how disappointed and angry he would be! I was his eldest son. He had taught me to be responsible, and he was proud of me. How would he feel about me now? Quickly I searched for the cattle from one end of the field to the other. I couldn’t find them anywhere!
As I wondered what to do, I remembered something my father had taught me—if I ever needed help, I could pray to my Father in Heaven, and he would help me. I needed help then! I knelt and asked Heavenly Father to help me find the cattle. Then, sure that I would find them, I searched again.
But the cattle were nowhere to be found! I became angry. I had prayed, as my father had taught me. Why hadn’t Heavenly Father answered my prayer?
I stormed home. I had almost forgotten about the cattle and how upset my father would be. I wanted to know why my prayer hadn’t been answered. My father listened patiently as I explained what had happened. In his wise way, he asked me what I would have done the next day if Heavenly Father had helped me find the cattle. “Would you leave the cows again, thinking that your Father in Heaven would find them for you?”
After some thought, I replied, “Yes, that is probably what I would do.”
My father told me to kneel again—this time to ask for forgiveness and to promise that I would never again leave the cattle to go and play. I did as he said. Then, humbly, I once more asked Heavenly Father to help me find the cows. With my father by my side, I returned to the field and found the cattle there.
I learned an important lesson that day. Heavenly Father does not give us what we want just because we want it. He answers our prayers when we have done our part. And he answers them in a way that will help us become better people.

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).