Gospel Story Finder

After graduating from high school towards the end of World War II, Neal joined the army. He had a life-changing experience while in a fierce battle on Okinawa, Japan. During a battle, Neal’s mortar position was under fire. Three shells in a row had exploded, each closer to his foxhole than the previous one. He realized the enemy had determined his position. The next shell would land on top of him. He prayed “one of those selfish, honest prayers,”3 asking for protection from the next bomb. In his pocket he carried a copy of his patriarchal blessing that said his life would not be shortened and that he would not be deprived of fulfilling every assignment that was given to him in the premortal existence.

The shelling stopped. He later wrote: “I am sure the Lord answered my prayers. … The following night they began to pour shells in, but almost all of them were duds—either the ammunition had gotten wet or they were not exploding in the very thick, oozing mud. … I felt preserved, and unworthily so, but have tried to be somewhat faithful to that promise that was given at the time.”4

When Francesca Morelli met the missionaries three years ago in northern Germany, she was 16 years old and facing harmful pressures from peers. “Two weeks before I met the missionaries,” she says, “I had friends who wanted me to start using drugs. Then I met the missionaries, and everything changed.”
After several weeks of discussions, Francesca wanted to be baptized, but her mother was vehemently opposed to the Church. Only after much pleading and heartache did Francesca finally receive her mother’s permission. She was baptized on 23 November 1997. Members of the Altona Ward, Hamburg Germany Stake, welcomed her with love and fellowship. The other young women have been especially supportive. “My closest friends who have never left me alone are from the Church,” says Francesca.
Since her baptism, Francesca’s mother has followed her example and joined the Church, and her younger brother is hearing the discussions and looking forward to his own baptism. “I’m just thankful I met the missionaries when I was so young,” says Francesca. “I don’t know what would have happened to me if I had not found the gospel.”

A few years ago, I learned to index during a large indexing activity organized at the Les Abymes meetinghouse, led in part by Sabrina Bastien. It didn’t particularly captivate me as I found the documents difficult to read. Another time, I participated in an indexing activity on a Sunday with young people who had been called to serve as temple and family history consultants. I then began trying to do it alone at home, calling Sister Bastien for help when problems arose, and reading explanations on FamilySearch. I started indexing every Sunday afternoon. It became a way for me to help my family with their genealogy, as we are all part of our Heavenly Father’s family. If I find it easy to locate my close family, it’s because others have done work for me.
So, it’s my turn to return the favor. I noticed that by asking for help from our Heavenly Father, I could read certain writing more easily. This allowed me to have patience. During the first major COVID-19 lockdown, I indexed every day. And then every Sunday. I am happy to be able to help, through indexing, in bringing families together on both sides of the veil.

“Actually, I can” is my personal motto. When people meet me for the first time, they don’t realize that I can do a lot of things if I’m creative and put my mind to it.
When I was eight years old, I was diagnosed with juvenile idiopathic arthritis. I thought I would have to give up all the things I love to do—dance, softball, volleyball—but my medication allowed me to keep living my normal life. I stayed super active and kept doing what I loved. I even started playing the snare drum in marching band. Then in 10th grade, my arthritis flared up and I got really sick. I couldn’t hold up my snare drum anymore. And I had to quit dance because it was too difficult for me to participate.
I tried to stay positive. But I really missed my snare drum. Even though I wanted to give up, my family encouraged me to find hope. We figured out how to attach my snare drum to my wheelchair, and soon I was playing in the marching band again!
Lots of times when we’re faced with challenges, we automatically think we can’t do it. But the truth is that “actually, I can.”
Jess P., 17, Utah, USA

In the Hawaii, Honolulu Mission, a few years ago, I was instructed to travel to Christmas Island, one of the Line Islands belonging to the Republic of Kiribati. I was authorized to form a branch of the Church there if enough priesthood leaders could be found to sustain it. There were faithful priesthood leaders and many faithful and deserving saints who desperately wanted the church to become established on their remote island. When the branch was formed, it was apparent that the saints there were filled with righteous spirit and a determined desire to be faithful and devoted to the gospel. However, most had not had close contact with the organized church for many years and someone with a greater depth of experience was needed to teach, train and prepare them for independent church government. We needed a missionary couple.

We learned that local government regulations would not permit any of the government owned houses to be rented to missionaries. You can imagine the criteria that we advanced to the missionary department for a couple for this assignment:
Need to work with people who speak mostly the Kiribati language.
Need to build your own island house [called a kiakia].
Need to drill your own water well.
Need to dig your own latrine and make an enclosure for it.
Need to make your own portable shower and palm frond enclosure.
Do not plan on electricity, running water, any form of plumbing,
There is no furniture of any kind, but sand, crabs and insects in abundance.
Do not plan to be sick because there are no adequate medical facilities on the island.
Your only form of transport will be bicycles, and bring your own.

Actually, nobody signed up for that missionary call. We were feeling the urgent requirements of this newly formed branch and we remembered the extraordinarily faithful and loving saints there who needed gospel training very much. After much prayer from us, we received a phone call from a brother and sister on the mainland. They said they were emotionally prepared for a hardship mission and would agree to serve. They gave up retirement and the leisure time they so richly deserved. They came and established the Church on Christmas Island at great personal sacrifice. The gift of inheritance is theirs.

Craig didn’t know what he was going to do or where he would end up. That afternoon after church his mother had informed him that his parents were getting a divorce. His father would be moving back to Iowa. He could live with whichever parent he chose.

He had listened to her news and then asked, “Is that it then?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

Craig had gone outside and ridden his ten-speed all afternoon, his feelings churning up inside him. He loved both his parents. How could he choose between them? What was he going to do? He never would have thought that his parents would get a divorce. They had even been married in the temple. Why would they want to break up after all these years?

He had never felt so alone in his whole life. It was like his entire world was coming unglued.

At the fireside now, still in shock, he wiped a tear from his eye. Julie noticed, and reached over and touched his arm.

He wanted to tell how much her concern had meant to him. Right now he felt like his friends in the Church were the only thing he could count on. He loved them all so much. He knew some of them had had problems, and they had seemed to get through okay. Maybe if they all stuck together, he’d be able to get through this crisis.

He knew he couldn’t stand up and say anything to the group, but he wished everyone in that room knew how much he loved them.

We have a dear friend who was a train engineer. One day while he was driving a train on his route, he spotted a car stopped on the track ahead of him. He quickly realized that the car was stuck and unable to cross the track. He immediately put the train in emergency mode, which engaged the brakes on each boxcar that extended three-quarters of a mile (1.2 km) behind the engine, carrying a load of 6,500 tons (5,900 metric tons). There was no physical chance that the train would be able to stop before it hit the car, which it did. Fortunately for the people in the car, they heard the warning of the train whistle and escaped from the car before the impact. As the engineer spoke with the investigating police officer, an angry woman approached them. She shouted that she had seen the whole incident and then testified that the engineer did not even try to swerve out of the way to miss the car!
Obviously, if the engineer had been able to swerve and leave the tracks to avoid an accident, he and his entire train would have been lost in a derailment and the train’s forward progress would have come to an abrupt stop. Fortunately for him, the rails of the tracks on which his train ran kept the wheels of the train snugly moving toward its destination regardless of the obstacle in his way. Fortunately for us, we too are on a track, a covenant path we committed to when we were baptized as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Although we may encounter occasional obstacles along the way, this path will keep us moving toward our prized eternal destination if we stay firmly on it.

In his responsibilities as chair of the publicity committee, James was tireless in confronting errors and falsehoods, often by directly speaking to editors.15 Of one occasion, James related the stubbornness of some of the agitators and his desires for them to be honest in their publications:
“We made a personal visit to this editor and spent considerable time in an effort … to clear away the prejudice he had toward our people; and to show him the untruthfulness of the statements made in his article, [which] we took with us [as] unimpeachable evidence for this purpose. He emphatically told us there was nothing we could do or say or adduce that would change his attitude; that his mind was made up and that he was against our religion on general principles. He defended what he insisted was his right to attack us in any way he wanted to, in order to protect his patrons and friends.”16

Let me illustrate with a brief story how this great faith can be applied. A couple weeks ago, Brother Brad Wilcox and I visited Sister Wendy Thompson in her ward in North Ogden, Utah. Her husband had recently been killed in a tragic accident. After Sunday services, we met with her and her extended family. Their stake president invited us to share thoughts with them. Following Brother Wilcox’s inspired and inspiring remarks, I briefly shared some of these same principles of faith. Sister Thompson became emotional. She later asked me if I would write her what I shared. She said, “I was just feeling so much peace and joy knowing that my Heavenly Father and my Savior and my sweet eternal companion have prepared every needful thing for me and my boys here and in the eternities. I remembered my covenants made and also the covenants Heavenly Father made. He never breaks His promises. I love thinking that I already have those blessings . . . and [I love] what I felt.”

As a convert to the Church, it took some time for me to catch on to all the principles of the gospel. Some commandments and doctrines weren’t clear to me until I had been a member for a while. And so it was with keeping the Sabbath.
Before joining the Church I had led my 4-H club in many Sunday afternoon recreational activities, ranging from touch football to kite flying. I saw nothing wrong with it, even after I joined the Church. I felt it contributed to the solidarity of the club and increased camaraderie between the members. But one Sunday afternoon in particular caused me to think about what I was doing.
The club had tried to organize an ice hockey game, but we were short of players. I had a great idea. Why not call the Harrisons—the branch president’s family? Four of their seven kids were old enough to play. That would double our number, and it would be a good way to acquaint the members of my 4-H club with some Church members. I called Les, who was the oldest, and he eagerly agreed.
But as I stepped into the house while I was waiting for them to gather skates and extra jeans, I could sense something was wrong. President Harrison looked at me with a displeased look, and Les was standing there with a bewildered expression, so I knew I had interrupted a discussion between the two of them. Finally the silence was broken when the good president looked at me and said something to the effect that his children had their agency, but he didn’t approve, and did I know it was Sunday? Three of the four went with me, but by the time I left the house I was feeling pretty guilty.
The experience caused me to attack my newly acquired “reference set” to see what the prophets had said on the subject of the Sabbath. When the Ensign arrived that week and was focused on the Sabbath, I read it from cover to cover in a couple of days. I made an elaborate list of “don’ts” for the Sabbath and resolved I was going to make the Sabbath holy, even if it killed me.
The next Sunday I found myself sitting in my room wondering what to do. Something just didn’t seem right. I was following the letter of the law but not the spirit of the Sabbath, and something was definitely missing. The hockey episode took place near Christmas, and January had its share of Sundays, but no Sabbaths.
With February came Keith, and in our small branch one person can make a lot of difference. He was a convert of five months and had the enthusiasm of four new missionaries all wrapped into one person. So when the college we attended announced a foster grandparent program involving a local rest home, Keith approached me with the idea that we, the only LDS students on campus, should join and be good examples. I suggested we visit the two women who were in our branch who lived there. They couldn’t get to church meetings, and they probably needed us. We talked about it but took no action.
Then one Sunday our high councilor couldn’t make the 30 miles to our branch because of a heavy snow, and President Harrison gave what I am sure was an impromptu talk on faith. He said faith was putting your words and beliefs in action. It was that afternoon that Keith and I decided to visit the sisters in the rest home.
Our first visit was a disaster. We visited each sister alone, and didn’t really get beyond “How are you?” “Fine.” As we left we knew two things: first, that they needed us; and second, that we could do better. We had promised them that we’d return. And even though we spent much of the next Sunday afternoon driving home the 150 miles from district conference, Keith and I convinced Les Harrison, his sister LeAnn, and Portia (a nursing student) to visit the women with us.
We wheeled both sisters into a quiet corner. Keith read an article from a Church magazine, Les read a scripture, and Portia offered a beautiful prayer. We felt good about the experience, and the next Sunday we came with seven Young Adults and youth. Les and Keith blessed and passed the sacrament to the sisters. We then wheeled them into a small chapel in the home and sang a hymn. An article from the Church magazines was read, then a poem and a scripture. We had a closing hymn and prayer.
It was three o’clock before we left and we hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, so Les invited us all to his house for soup and crackers. That Sunday afternoon I was again in the branch president’s home, only this time it was under much different circumstances. The faithful president had just come home from working at the church, and he and his wife joined us in our meal. During the week the seven of us were scattered about the town, and many of us were without families in the Church. For two hours we sat around the table and talked with each other and Les’s parents. Jokes, stories, and the problems of being lone Latter-day Saints out in “the field” were shared. It was truly an inspiring experience.
Les and I only had an hour to work on our home-study seminary lesson before I had to be back at the church for a branch correlation meeting. It was a good meeting, and it was ten o’clock before I returned home. I had no time left to work on my genealogy or write a letter to a missionary as I had planned.
When I knelt for prayer that night I realized there were more “dos” for the Sabbath than I could ever fit into one short day. I thanked my Heavenly Father for the special day he had set apart to bless us.

Another friend served an outstanding mission, followed by rigorous academic training. He hoped to have a family. His trial of faith: feelings of same-sex attraction. He wrote me recently: “I am promised in my patriarchal blessing that I will have my own family someday. Whether that will occur in this life or the next, I do not know. But what I do know is that I don’t want to do anything that will jeopardize the blessings God has promised both me and my future posterity. … Living [the law of chastity] is a challenge, but did we not come to earth to confront challenges and to show God our love and respect for Him by keeping His commandments? I am blessed with good health, the gospel, a loving family, and loyal friends. I am grateful for my many blessings.”

“After the talk, our first baptism today will be Alison’s,” the bishop’s counselor announced, smiling at me and my dad.
“Oh, we’d be happy to go last,” Dad joked.
Uncle Calvin gave Dad’s shoulder a friendly punch. “You’ll do great,” he whispered.
Just a few months before, my dad had been ordained an elder in the Melchizedek Priesthood. This would be his first time performing a baptism. I felt proud of him and happy as we sat together in our white clothes.
Soon my dad and I stepped into the baptismal font. He gave me a wink. I held his arm and plugged my nose while he said the short prayer and lowered me into the water. He did a great job! As I stood up, I felt the warm water streaming off my face. The warmth of the Spirit whispered to me that I’d made the right choice.

Anna Sewell died a year after the book’s publication on April 25, 1878, of a painful lung infection. When the horse-drawn hearse arrived at the door, her mother looked down from an upstairs window and saw that the horses had bearing-reins [checkreins]. “Oh, this will never do!” she exclaimed and hurried to order the cruel, restricting reins removed. This loving mother thereby performed one more service for her daughter and for her daughter’s friends, the horses.

A short time after her baptism, Kirsten Edsberg got cancer. As the disease progressed, Soren and his sister became disturbed. Their mother’s patriarchal blessing promised that she would live to fulfill her life’s mission. But she had not yet had her children sealed to her, nor had she had opportunities for church service.
When at last the doctors felt that she would die within days and had withdrawn all medicine except for pain killers, the elder Brother Edsberg called on Soren to give his mother another blessing. After several days of fasting and praying, says Soren, “I felt I had permission to tell the disease to obey the priesthood and to leave so my mother would be able to complete her mission in this life.” Kirsten Edsberg recovered and was able to go to the Swiss Temple to be sealed to her family. She was also able to serve as a Primary teacher. Then, a year after her healing, she became ill again and passed away.

After the creation of the Come, Follow Me curriculum, I noticed in priests quorum, Sunday School, and seminary that our teachers began to give us more challenges to do things. They especially encouraged us to do missionary work among our nonmember and less-active friends. One week our priests quorum adviser challenged us to pray and ask God how we could reach out to our friends. We all accepted the challenge.
There was a boy at school named Gavin, who wasn’t a member of the Church. We all decided to start being more friendly to him. We started with small things—saying hi to him in the halls and inviting him to hang out. He even came to some Mutual activities with us. I know the Spirit guided us to him because we had prayed.
Most of my friends are on the wrestling team with me, and Gavin decided to join the team. Our team always prays before matches and studies the scriptures together when we travel for tournaments. Gavin started listening in and got really curious. Seeing us do these things together and being able to do them with us made him want to learn more. He started meeting with the missionaries and decided to be baptized.
After he was confirmed, he bore his testimony in sacrament meeting and thanked the boys in the quorum and on the wrestling team. His grandmother had passed away shortly before we started to befriend him, and he said the Spirit he felt when he came to Church activities helped him cope with the loss. We knew of his grandmother’s passing, but we didn’t think much about it until he bore his testimony that day. As I listened to Gavin’s testimony, I realized that God led us to do simple acts of kindness that didn’t take much work for us but that meant the world to him.

I grew up in Centerville, Utah, as the oldest of ten; I had four brothers and five sisters. My family had fifty acres of farmland and orchards to care for. We grew plums, peaches, apricots, cherries, and all kinds of vegetables. Every day at 5:30 A.M. my family sold truckloads of produce at the Salt Lake market. Because we did not have refrigerators back then, we harvested the food the day before selling it.
Weekends were always a challenge because we had to find a way to prepare Monday’s produce without working on Sunday. My father’s rule of thumb was “We will do the best we can, but we will always go to our Sunday meetings.” He also said, “The day we miss our Sunday meetings is the day we sell the farm.”
To avoid working on Sunday, we’d harvest late on Saturday, then pack the food in boxes and put wet towels on top so that it wouldn’t dry out. On Sunday we got up very early and did the necessary chores, like milking the cows, so that we could be at church by 9:00 A.M. Because of my parents’ example, it has been easier to teach my children to keep the Sabbath day holy.

I had been going to church for four years and waited until my adoption was final before being baptized. I had fasted many times to know if Jesus Christ is our Savior and if Heavenly Father does answer our prayers.
Before my baptism date was set, I had a strong desire to know if being baptized was the right thing to do. I went to my Young Women leader and asked her how to go about getting an answer to my prayers. She told me to read Doctrine and Covenants 9:7–9 [D&C 9:7–9]. These verses explain that you should study your question in your mind, choose a course of action, and then go to Heavenly Father with your decision in prayer. This scripture says that if it is right, you will have a burning in your bosom. But if it is wrong you will have a stupor of thought.
After I read these scriptures, I knew that I had more to do if I wanted my prayers answered. I had to “search, ponder, and pray.” I also found it very helpful to fast.
I now can tell you that I do know that Jesus Christ is our Savior. Our prayers can be answered if we are diligent and faithful. I also know that choosing to be baptized was the right thing for me to do.

Steve, with his mission experience, began to teach Mr. and Mrs. Gibson the gospel.
At 10:00 Mrs. Gibson invited them into the kitchen for a piece of cake she’d baked especially for Steve and Cathy. While they were eating, the electric power went out. They lit a candle and finished.
“Martin, it’s going to get cold tonight without our electric heater.”
“We can all stay by the fire and keep warm,” he said.
Huddled around the fire, with the wind howling outside, they continued to talk. At 2:00 A.M., Mrs. Gibson turned to her husband and asked, “Martin, what do you think?”
“It’s the first thing I’ve heard that makes any sense. We better learn more about it, though, before we join.”
Cathy burst out excitedly, “You and your wife and your son can be sealed together as a family forever! Steve and I want to go with you through the temple when you go!”
Mr. Gibson cleared his throat nervously and reached a little awkwardly for his wife’s hand. “Ella and me have been through a lot together. It’d be nice to be together forever.”
Finally they agreed that it was time for sleep. While Mr. and Mrs. Gibson went to get some blankets, Steve reached over and kissed Cathy. “You are a terrific missionary.”
“Wasn’t it special?” she asked happily. “I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.”
They sat and watched the fire. The embers that had been in the fire the longest glowed the deepest red.
“Cathy, are you still afraid of the future? We can’t guarantee that we won’t have the same unhappiness in our lives that they’ve had.”
“I know,” she said quietly.
“If you knew now that I’d die in a few years, or that a baby would suffer sickness, would you walk away from our marriage?”
“I used to think that Heavenly Father would spare me that kind of trial,” she said.
“And now what do you think?”
“I think that a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ can help us live through whatever comes.”
“You’re not scared anymore?”
She shook her head thoughtfully. “Not anymore.”
Mr. and Mrs. Gibson returned to the fire, carrying some blankets. They pulled the couch and two chairs close to the fireplace. Mr. Gibson piled two large logs on the fire. Then he placed a small gift in Cathy’s hand. It was wrapped in tissue paper.
All he said was, “Don’t open it until you’re on your way tomorrow.”
A few minutes later Cathy whispered something to Steve. He nodded his head and then spoke to Mr. Gibson. “I promised my wife something about tonight. Would it be all right if we had family prayer?”
By the next morning the storm had let up, and by 11:00 they had managed to pull the car back on the highway. Shortly after that, Steve and Cathy were on their way.
Not until they were unloading their suitcases from the car into the cabin did Cathy remember the small package on the back seat. Unwrapping it, she found the old necklace with the words inscribed on the back—“Love is forever.”

It is instructive that the second Latter-day Saint connection with the Titanic did not have a happy mortal ending. Irene Corbett was 30 years old. She was a young wife and mother from Provo, Utah. She had significant talents as an artist and musician; she was also a teacher and a nurse. At the urging of medical professionals in Provo, she attended a six-month course of study on midwife skills in London. It was her great desire to make a difference in the world. She was careful, thoughtful, prayerful, and valiant. One of the reasons she chose the Titanic to return to the United States was because she thought the missionaries would be traveling with her and that this would provide additional safety. Irene was one of the few women who did not survive this terrible tragedy. Most of the women and children were placed in the lifeboats and were ultimately rescued. There were not enough lifeboats for everyone. But it is believed that she did not get in the lifeboats because, with her special training, she was attending to the needs of the numerous passengers who were injured from the iceberg collision.19

Here are our four older children posing for a picture during family home evening. Our favorite game was the sock-roll race. Each one was given a roll of stockings like this... Joyce and I and the children got on the floor in a line. The object was to push the roll using only your nose to the finish line on the other side of the room. One of my kids wrote recently that, "I suppose I loved this activity because we were all on the floor together. The big people were little people with us." There was lots of teasing and laughing. After a few races, it usually broke down into a tickling frenzy. I guess it was then I remembered my father's words, "You may never be closer to heaven than on the floor playing with your children at home."