Gospel Story Finder

During my last year of junior high school, it was my privilege to be responsible for taking care of the flag at our school. Each morning just before school began, the bugle sounded and we would raise the flag on the pole out in front of the building. All of the students would then stand at attention in their classrooms and repeat the Pledge of Allegiance to our country.
We really cared for the flag—it meant something special to us! Whenever it rained, we would be excused from class to run out, lower the flag, and carefully put it away until the weather was clear to display it again. Each night before leaving school, the flag would be lowered, gently folded in a triangle with only the white stars on a blue background visible, and put away until the next day.

What would be a good reason to get up early on a Thursday morning during summer break? For hundreds of youth from Orange County, California, USA, and Tijuana, Mexico, the reason was simple: a youth conference unlike any they’d ever experienced.
That morning, the youth from California boarded buses and crossed the border to gather with the youth in Tijuana. From the moment they got together, the youth from both countries hugged and high-fived each other. Throughout that first day of the conference, they performed baptisms together in the Tijuana Mexico Temple, worked side-by-side at an orphanage, played games together, and enjoyed a makeshift soccer game.
On Friday, the youth, in conjunction with a charitable organization in Mexico, helped build four homes for four deserving families in Tijuana. With hammers, paintbrushes, and sweat, they saw a house take shape through their hard work.
At the end the day, they were able to present the keys to each family, and each home was dedicated to the Lord. Each family was also given a framed quote signed by the youth and leaders that read, “Se necesitan manos para hacer una casa, pero se necesitan corazones para crear un hogar” (“It takes hands to make a house, but it takes hearts to make a home”). The youth and the families were equally blessed through this service.
In the evening, the youth enjoyed teaching one another their customs. One of the highlights for many of the California youth were the beautiful dances the Mexican stakes performed in traditional costumes.
Firesides were also held throughout the conference, translated into Spanish and English.
As the conference concluded on Saturday, the youth gathered for a morning fireside where youth from both countries combined to sing “Come unto Christ.” They sang in both English and Spanish, and many felt that this was the culmination of the entire conference—Latter-day Saint youth coming together, united as one, with the common goal of following their Savior.

During a performance of O’Neill’s Ah, Wilderness at Brigham Young University, a young man became so moved that he had to leave his date and go out to cry in the men’s room. Seeing the play examine family relationships had forced him to examine his own relationship to his family in a more intense and poignant way than he ever had before. He faced some things, admitted some things, learned some things. Sometimes two hours in the theater can do for us what years of professional counseling might not.

In 1913 a Czech sister living in Vienna, Austria, was baptized. Her name was Frantiska Brodilová. During World War I, she, her husband, and their two daughters moved to Prague. After the war, Sister Brodilová was the only Church member living in Czechoslovakia. She faithfully sent her tithing to the Vienna Austria Branch and taught both her daughters the gospel. In 1921, two brethren from the Vienna Austria Branch went to Prague and baptized her teenage daughters.

For years, Sister Brodilová and her daughters prayed that missionaries would be sent to their country. If there were missionaries, there would be more members, and a branch or ward could be organized where she and her daughters could go to worship and partake of the sacrament. Finally in 1928 the Church obtained permission from the police and from the government to preach the gospel. Then, just two and a half months after the mission began, it closed when the mission president became ill.

Frantiska would not give up. She wrote to the Church, asking that missionary work begin again. On July 24, 1929, on a wooded hill near Karlstejn Castle, the land of Czechoslovakia was dedicated for the preaching of the gospel. Missionary work went slowly, but it had begun!

My first Sunday in church was in early 1995. All my life I had spent weekends in stadiums and gymnasiums. I love sports! I was even studying sports. But in January 1995 I came in contact with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The sister missionaries invited me to attend church, and I went.
It was a fast and testimony meeting. I sat on a massive wooden pew, one sister missionary to my right, the other to my left. But I encountered only unfamiliar faces, unfamiliar music, unfamiliar proceedings, and unfamiliar words. I had never partaken of the sacrament before and was preoccupied with finding out the appropriate conduct. I felt very uncomfortable. I said to myself, “It will be over at some point, and then I will get out of here and never come back.” But the meeting concluded with the announcement that all should remain in the chapel for a lesson by the mission president, President Charles W. Dahlquist II, who now serves as Young Men general president. So most people, including the sister missionaries, remained seated, and I could not simply sneak out inconspicuously, as I had planned. Since I did not have the courage to tell the missionaries how awful I was feeling, I decided to endure.
President Dahlquist stood in front. He began by asking what we would do with a good book we had just read. My answer was, “Read it again, recommend it to others, or give it as a gift.”
He spoke about the Book of Mormon, then about a few other subjects. But something peculiar happened. I suddenly knew that everything he said was true. I knew that he knew more things that were true as well. I knew that I wanted to know what he knew. I knew that I wanted to have in my life what he had as an anchor in his life. It is hard to find words to describe this experience. I simply knew that he knew.
I looked around stealthily to see if anybody had noticed anything unusual, for I had the impression that something wonderful had happened.
Because of his lesson I attended church again—and again. My baptism was on March 2, 1996, approximately one year after this experience. Today I have five wonderful children and a wonderful, eternal husband.
I recall often and with gratitude this lesson.
Barbara Hopf, Stade Branch, Hamburg Germany Stake

It takes a special kind of courage to try something new, to listen to the missionaries and accept the things they teach. Bambie, 13, wasn’t sure she wanted to join the Church. The missionaries encouraged her to pray, and she did. “I felt something inside that made me want to learn. I kept praying, and I was given the courage to join the Church.” When she talks about choosing to attend church instead of going with her friends, Bambie says, “I don’t mind what people say. I know by the Holy Ghost that the Church is true.”

I think of the bishop of my boyhood. He was there when I was given a name and a blessing by my good father. He it was who interviewed me and found me worthy of baptism into the Lord’s church. He it was who interviewed me and found me worthy to be ordained a deacon. He called me to my first Church responsibility as a member of the presidency of the deacons quorum. He it was who presided over the quorum of priests to which I once belonged. He it was who recommended me to the stake president as worthy to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood. He it was who recommended me to the President of the Church as one worthy to serve as a missionary. He it was who welcomed me home and who signed my recommend as one worthy to be married in the house of the Lord.

I too had a similar experience when I first came to school here, except from a different point of view. This time I was a new transfer student here. I had recently got back from my mission and was very eager to attend BYU–Hawaii. I had completed one year of school before my mission at a Junior College. When I transferred here I decided that I wanted to live off campus. I did not realize how hard it is to initially meet people if you live off campus. My first week here at BYU–Hawaii was miserable. I only knew one other person here at school when I arrived, she was a friend of mine growing up but had gotten married and things were not the same anymore. I learned quickly how it feels to be alone.

My roommates had all been at BYU–Hawaii for a while and already had their own groups of friends. During the first week out here my roommates would leave the house and go hang out with their friends but never think to invite me. I wanted to ask them if I could come but I was too embarrassed to do so. I remember the first weekend of school was the opening social and I wanted to go really bad but I was too shy to go by myself. I asked my roommates if they wanted to go but they all said that they already had plans. I remember sitting home by myself for the first time on a weekend in a long time and felt really alone. I prayed to Heavenly Father pleading to help me to be able to make friends and find people that I fit in with. I soon received an answer to my prayer when the next day a new roommate moved into my house unexpectedly. His name was Jimmy, and he was unable to find housing and ended up moving into our house a week after the semester started. Sunday evening Jimmy invited me to go to a gospel forum with him and some of his friends. I was so excited. I really enjoyed meeting new people.

I ended up meeting some people who became good friends of mine. Jimmy also is the one who introduced me to BYUHSA. He was an Executive Director for the student body President at the time. I started volunteering at dances and met a lot of really neat people. This experience helped change my perspective of BYU–Hawaii. I was introduced to fun students who wanted to serve and work hard. It was then that I knew I wanted to be involved in BYUHSA.

Although he probably never realized it, the simple invitation to go to the gospel forum was an answer to my prayer. My prayer was answered through the help of one of God’s children. Jimmy never told me whether he felt inspired to invite me that night or not but I know that it wasn’t a coincidence. I know that God uses us to answer the prayers of others.

Talking about interesting cross-cultural experiences and how we can learn from them, one time I found myself in a Mayan village in the jungles of Central America. I was one of several faculty members supervising a group of Ricks College students there. That morning, a Mayan villager, an old man of about eighty years, took some of the students on an iguana hunt and a terrible cultural event happened; they didn't catch an iguana. Upon their return, the old man sat down on a log, humiliated, with his head in his hands. I figured out that in this man's culture, a "real man" gets his iguana. Therefore, I determined to accompany the afternoon iguana hunt and do all I could to restore this old gentleman's dignity. I, and several young ladies in the group, decided to go. As the time approached, the Spirit kind of told me not to go, and I should have listened to it, but I guess the Lord fortunately decided to protect me anyway from the dangers that awaited as we walked into that dense jungle.

We finally arrived at this small opening between the trees and this eighty-year old man began to quickly scale a huge tree as if it were nothing at all. He soon disappeared amongst the thick foliage. All of a sudden, I heard him shout, "Iguana! Iguana!" and we all heard the cracking of tree branches that seemed to be getting closer and closer. We were all looking at each other with eyes as big as golf balls when, all of a sudden, an iguana, several feet long, barely missed hitting me on the head as he fell from the top of the tall tree and ended up on the ground at my feet. At this moment, all the girls screamed and disappeared into the jungle. But I, being the Indiana Jones sort of guy I am, did not flee the scene, I stood my ground, paralyzed with fear. The man was shouting in Spanish from the top of the tree saying "Grap it! Grap it!" The creature and I both looked at each other for a few seconds. He had a mouth on him that I was sure could easily dispatch with one of my fingers. He also had these things that looked like spikes coming out of his back. And I decided at that moment that I was perfectly comfortable with being a wimp in that culture. Not being a real man and being a real wimp was fine with me. In fact, I decided that I was going to do the Christian thing and allow the old man the honor of catching it. After a few seconds of the iguana and I staring at each other, he gave me the look of a mother cat trying to get some sleep as she stares at her kittens playing with her tail, and slowly strolled toward a creek and jumped in.

I could tell Mom was upset by the look on her face as she hung up the phone.
“Who was it?” I asked.
“That was Tim’s mom,” Mom said.
Tim was a friendly boy from my class in school last year. He was a good basketball player, and once he brought his pet lizard to class.
Mom sat down next to me on the couch. “Tim’s mom said the doctors just found out that Tim has cancer,” she said.
Mom explained that cancer is a sickness, but not like a cold or the flu. She said Tim would have to stay in the hospital for a long time. It would be so expensive that Tim’s family might have to sell their home.
That night during family prayer, Mom asked Heavenly Father to bless and comfort Tim’s family. Then she said, “And please help us to know how we can help Tim.”
As I lay in bed a little while later, I thought about Mom’s prayer. But what could I do to help? I said a short prayer. “Heavenly Father, please let me know what I can do to help Tim.”
When I opened my eyes, I looked around my darkened room. I noticed a dump truck that I hadn’t used in months and a puzzle that was too easy for me now. Suddenly, my heart started to get warm.
The next morning I burst into the kitchen and announced, “I want to sell my old toys and give the money to Tim.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Mom said.
We found a big box and filled it with toys and games I no longer played with.
“I’ll bet Grandma has some old toys,” Mom said.
“Maybe our neighbors do too,” I said.
We drove to Grandma’s house, and she helped us round up toys from her basement. Then we walked around our neighborhood and collected more. By the end of the day we had quite a few boxes full of toys and games. My heart pounded when I looked at them and thought about Tim.
On Saturday, we had a yard sale. A table in our front yard overflowed with dolls, trucks, stuffed animals, and board games. I put a picture of Tim on a large can. I told people that all of the money from our yard sale would go to help Tim and his family.
By afternoon, almost all of the toys were gone, and our can was filled with dollar bills and change.
That night I wrote a letter to Tim telling him that we were thinking of him and praying for him. I told him about our yard sale and put the letter and the money in the envelope. My heart felt warm, and I knew that I was doing a good thing for Tim and his family.
About a week later, I got a letter from Tim and his mom. They said they were filled with gratitude that I had thought to do such a thing. I knew it was Heavenly Father who helped me know how I could help. All I had to do was ask, listen, and then do it.

Many of you are doing remarkable things. Megan, a young woman, prayed many months for two friends who were not members of the Church, arranging for one friend to sign up for seminary and inviting the other to be taught by the missionaries. Recently these two young women were baptized. The Church needs you. President Hinckley cannot walk down the halls of your school and teach your friends, but you can, and the Lord is counting on you. We’re so proud of the courage you have as you share your love for the gospel with your friends.

As we walked toward our front door, my heavy trick-or-treating sack kept bumping my leg.
“I can’t wait to count all the candy I got,” I said to my brother Josh. “I bet I set a record!”
“No kidding,” Josh said. “My bag is breaking my arm!”
Our little sister Bekah hopped up the front steps and opened the door. We rushed in and dumped our candy on the floor. Mom and Dad had a rule that we could eat only a few pieces of candy on Halloween night, so I wanted to make sure I chose the best ones.
I turned to Josh, who was hunched over two piles. One was big and had some of the best candy a kid could get. The other pile was pretty small.
Josh is allergic to most of this! I suddenly remembered. In all of the excitement, I had forgotten that my brother has dairy, nut, and soy allergies. Most candy makes him sick.
I felt kind of sad when I saw the puny pile Josh could eat. But then I noticed he had a smile on his face.
“I did great! Look at all of this,” Josh said.
“Yeah … um, that looks like a lot of good candy,” I said, trying not to make him feel bad.
Josh gave me a funny look, like he could tell exactly what I was thinking.
“It’s OK, Joseph,” Josh said. He started dividing up the big pile of candy he couldn’t eat. “I know my pile of safe candy doesn’t look like much, but I have awesome plans for the rest of it.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Well, first I’m giving two suckers to Bekah, because she loves them, but she was too shy to go trick-or-treating at the house that was giving them away.”
Josh held out a couple of lollipops to Bekah, who squealed and grabbed him in a sparkly pink hug.
“Next I’m gonna save these for my friend Max, because he loves candy with peanut butter in it. He was sick this week, and I’m not sure if he got to go trick-or-treating.”
As I watched Josh push a bunch of the candy off to the side, a warm feeling grew inside my heart.
“It’s really cool of you to give away your candy like that,” I said.
“Well, I like helping people when I can. Plus, I’m not giving up all of it. The rest is for trading.”
I looked at my own small mountain of treats. I saw a pack of fruity candy that I knew Bekah liked.
“Here, Bekah. Want this?”
“Yes! Thank you!”
The warm feeling grew even bigger. I felt that Jesus would want me to share what I had too.
Josh had the right idea—it felt really good to share with someone I love.

I was sitting at a lunch table with my friends when I noticed that a new boy named Michael had transferred into our lunch period. It seemed like he didn’t really know anyone but was willing to make some new friends. He decided to sit with a group of older boys, who pretended to be his friends for a while but ended up making a joke out of him. They constantly made fun of him until he started to cry. I watched this happen, and it really bothered me. I later learned that Michael has autism.
I decided to ask Michael if he wanted to sit by my friends and me. He said no, probably out of fear of people making fun of him again. He decided he’d rather sit alone.
The next day, I went up to him and introduced him to my friends. I could tell he was glad I hadn’t given up on him, and we started talking. I learned that he is a tic-tac-toe pro. He is almost undefeatable. I also learned how incredibly smart he is. He knows all of the U.S. presidents and can tell you what years they served. He is awesome, but not many people were willing to see past his disability. Some of the other students teased me for sitting with him, but I didn’t let them bother me. I liked hanging out with Michael.
Each day as we met for lunch, I could tell Michael was becoming a happier person. He looked forward to lunch every day, and so did I. What I thought was simply an act of service was really the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

During my service as a bishop and as a stake president, I worked with a number of young men and women who came to more fully appreciate and understand the atonement of Jesus Christ and the principle of repentance. I recall one young man who had to repent and overcome some individual and personal weaknesses before he could worthily enter the temple to make sacred covenants and become a full-time missionary. We counseled together on a number of occasions over a period of many months. The anticipated dates for receiving his mission call and departing for the MTC came and went. This young man had to face the awkwardness of people asking him why he had not yet received his call and left for his mission. In one of our conversations this young man asked me why he had to wait so long? “Would it not be better,” he asked, “to overcome my personal weaknesses in the mission field and in the service of the Lord?” I responded: “Service as a missionary is about teaching the restored gospel, bearing testimony, and inviting investigators to receive the ordinances of salvation. You must have the companionship of the Holy Ghost to accomplish that work. You certainly should not expect to be perfect before you can serve. But you must overcome your particular, personal challenge if you are to be worthy of His spirit. If you truly repent with real intent and a sincere heart, then as you make sacred covenants in the temple, as you enter the MTC, and as you serve in the mission field, you will not have to wonder if you belong there! If you do not now learn how to repent properly, how can you possibly help your future investigators to repent? Your repentance and the resulting forgiveness will bring a peace of mind that will enable you to serve with great faith and diligence and inspiration. You deserve the spiritual assurance and confidence that come from true repentance. You will not have to wonder if you belong there!”

Eventually this young man worthily did enter the House of the Lord. He did enter the MTC, and he served as a valiant missionary. After he had been in his assigned field of labor for about six months, he asked his mission president for permission to call me on the telephone. The mission president permitted the call, and late one evening this elder and I had a wonderful conversation. He joyfully told me about his investigators and his experiences in the mission field. He expressed his appreciation for the atonement, and for the principle of repentance, and for the personal lessons he had learned. As we concluded our conversation, he said, “President, I am glad I had to wait. I have never once wondered if I belong here. Thank you for your help.”

I have always been impressed by the organization of the Church, but I did not fully realize how important it was in efforts to serve others. The Pompano Beach Florida Stake, with many other stakes in the area, organized several relief efforts during four hurricanes that hit Florida last year. My ward was one of the many wards involved, and I was able to experience serving others.
A group of youth and leaders met one Saturday at 6:00 a.m. and drove two hours to Vero Beach. There, each ward was assigned an area to work in. Our ward was asked to help the senior citizens at a trailer park that had suffered a lot of damage. We were outside in the hot sun all day cleaning up debris and reconstructing homes, working alongside some of the residents.
This turned out to be a wonderful experience that I will never forget. I felt the Lord’s love as we served those people. Seeing the smiles on the faces of the people we were helping was such a blessing. I gained a testimony of the meaning and power of service and what it feels like to act in the name of Jesus Christ as a representative of His Church. I know that serving others is what He wants us to do.
The hurricanes caused a disaster, but there were blessings that came out of it. Testimonies grew, people were introduced to the Church, and the pure love of Christ was felt. Service brings us closer to Heavenly Father because we show and feel the Light of Christ as we act in His name. Taking upon us the name of Christ includes doing what He would do, like taking time to help those who need it most.

That evening I prayed and asked God to help me find His missionary church. The next day I looked for the missionaries. I checked with every person I saw who was wearing a white shirt, but I had no success.
Outside my home a few days later, I saw three people wearing white shirts, ties, and name tags! I ran inside, got the book, and hurried after them.
When I caught up with them, one of them asked, “Can we help you?”
“Is this book from your church?” I asked.
“Yes, it’s our book,” he replied enthusiastically. “We are the missionaries.”
After several weeks of learning about the restored gospel, I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. A year later my father was baptized.

In Italy there lives a Brother Luigi Pittino, who, with other European Saints, attended the Munich conference. For 17 years Brother Pittino had met on Sunday with one or two other Saints. They would have an opening prayer, read and discuss the scriptures, and partake of the sacrament. In these last few years they were all in their 70s and 80s. There was loneliness and a feeling of isolation. Imagine the thrill for Brother Pittino to sit with 14,000 other Saints at the Munich conference!

Valerie and Mama walked to the market. Valerie saw colorful fruits and silver fish. She smelled the beautiful flowers for sale. Valerie looked around. Where was Mama? Valerie was scared. She folded her arms and bowed her head. She whispered, “Heavenly Father, please help me find Mama.” Valerie waited. Then she heard someone calling her name. There was Mama! “Thank you, Heavenly Father,” Valerie whispered. Valerie was happy she could pray when she needed help.

The rooms that April morning had been beautifully decorated with flowers for it was President Snow’s eighty-seventh birthday. On the mantle stood a more beautiful arrangement of roses. Before the president was awake there came a knock at the door of the Beehive House. When it was opened, there stood two little girls behind armloads of stunning red roses for President Snow.
The girls sang two or three songs and he was deeply touched by the serenade. He said he would cherish the memory all of his life.

Danielle Menlove, a Beehive from Sandy, Utah, has running in her blood. Her parents, both runners, noticed something special when she beat her mother in a race at seven years old. Now she holds four USA national track and cross country titles and numerous records.
Danielle started winning big races when she was just 10 years old. She now holds the USA Track & Field—Utah youth records for the 11–12 age group in the 800m, 1500m, and the 3000m. In the 13–14 age group, Danielle holds the records in the 1500m and 3000m.
Danielle has learned that track involves enduring to the end. And she learned it the hard way. At the USATF National Junior Olympic Track & Field Championships in 2005, she accidentally stopped a lap short. She says, “I was in first place, and I had a 100m lead, but I stopped and started walking off the track.” When an official told her she had a lap to go, Danielle scrambled to rejoin the race. She still took second.
Recalling the event, Danielle says it helped her learn to finish strong. “It was a good thing to happen because I made the mistake once, and I’ll never make it again.”