Gospel Story Finder

A young man once pleaded with me for help. He had become addicted to pornography, which he accessed via his home computer. It burdened him with such guilt that he could not feel good about attending church or participating in priesthood assignments. It adversely affected his social life. He was powerfully drawn to spend hour upon hour alone in front of the computer viewing that which he acknowledged brought only frustration and despair. It was as if he were chained by a master whose only purpose was to make him miserable.
He did not decide at once to become a slave to the computer screen. Rather, he decided at some earlier time that viewing destructive images “just this once” would not hurt and would satisfy a “curiosity.” Once became twice, and twice became several times, until a powerful addiction had lessened his power of choice. Only after he was enchained by his addiction did he recognize that he had willingly submitted to captivity.

The teacher nurses a knife wound in her back. Gladys Saiah is not much older than her students. She and her sister were running an errand for their mother in an unfamiliar part of town when she was attacked and stabbed by a group of men. Gladys and her sister were fortunate; they were allowed to leave without further injury.
“As my sister and I began walking home,” she says, “I told Ellen we must first thank Heavenly Father for sparing our lives. We did, and then, arising from our knees, I asked Ellen, ‘Now will you please clean my back?’”
Though life in Soweto can sometimes be dangerous, the dangers are pushed into the background once the opening hymn and prayer start seminary. Class begins with scripture mastery, and each student recites a scripture word for word.
“And the Lord called his people Zion, because they were of one heart and one mind, and dwelt in righteousness; and there was no poor among them” (Moses 7:18).
“But the Lord said unto Samuel, Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Sam. 16:7).
Soweto seminary students know the Lord helps them through the scriptures. Lucky Ndhiela knows his faith spared him a severe beating.
“One day our school teacher was very angry with our class,” says Lucky. “He said he had explained a science principle to us, and the other students said he had not. A still, small voice whispered in my ear, ‘You know it, Lucky—the teacher did teach us that.’
“So I raised my hand and said in front of the whole class, ‘You did teach us that.’ I felt so happy to say it.
“But the whole class shouted, ‘He did NOT!’ The teacher became very angry and started hitting them all, one by one. I sat near the back of the class, and while he was busy punishing the students in front, I bowed my head and began to pray.
“I remembered my scripture mastery, Proverbs 3:5–6 [Prov. 3:5–6], and said to myself, ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.
“When the teacher came to my desk, his voice changed. His face changed. He said, ‘Lucky is praying to his God. I forgive him.’ He did not punish me, nor any others that day. That is how I know it is important to apply the scriptures in my life. My prayer was answered!”
Studying the Old Testament together had great impact on Soweto’s seminary students. Scenes like this one, described by a teacher, Leadh Vilakazi, are not uncommon:
“When we got to the story of Moses, everyone wanted to know everything concerning him. It was a wonderful feeling, as if Moses were among us.
“But the sad moment started when Moses was told he would not be allowed to enter the promised land, after all he had been through, and the faithful heart he had, and his hard work in leading the Israelites.
“‘Oh, what a painful and upsetting thing,’ my students grieved to me. And it was even a greater blow when the scriptures said Moses died. Everyone’s heart was moved, as if Moses had departed from us, and it was silent for a moment.
“When I looked at the students’ faces, tears were about to fall. Some of them looked down—they could not look at me. I heard one of the students say, ‘We now know that we had such a wonderful leader.’
“Another said, ‘Why don’t we sing “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet” ?’
“Then came another voice. ‘Oh, yes—just to thank our Heavenly Father for our beloved prophet for the last time.’ And so we sang, with our tears.”
Seminary student Girly Mbuli explains how her faith and love of the scriptures saved her from a terrible situation.
“One day my friend Tiny Gugu and I had to go to Zondi to take some books to another girl. On our way back we saw a gang of boys. Gangs here rape girls, steal cars, do everything horrible. We started to run, but it was too late.
“The boys faced us. They had weapons. They made us go up on a hill and meant to do awful things to us. On the way up the hill, I was saying a prayer to my Heavenly Father. I don’t remember which scriptures I tried to say, but I kept thinking of them. I asked for help to be calm and not afraid. I felt peace come into my heart.
“When you are on top of that hill, you can see everything. The boys looked down and asked where I was staying. I pointed to Jabulane, and something told me to say I was staying with my grandmother and my friend Lindiwe.
“The leader looked at me and said, ‘You are not afraid. Let them go!’ I later found out that the brother of my friend Lindiwe is the boss of this gang, and he stays in the house of my grandmother. That is why they let us go free.
“When I tell this story to people, they refuse to believe we survived. But I did, and I know why. It was because of my faith in Heavenly Father. I know that Isaiah 1:18 [Isa. 1:18] can be true for those guilty gang boys, if they will repent: ‘Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow.’”
Many people would be amazed at Girly’s charitable attitude. They would view Soweto as a terrible place. But Soweto is where these seminary students have received the gospel of Jesus Christ. Through study, prayer, and faith, they have found hope, confidence, courage, and love.
“I want to tell everyone not to forget their Heavenly Father, wherever you are,” says Girly. “He won’t forget you. He didn’t forget me.”

Eli looked at the pile of homework his friend had dropped off after school. Eli had missed another week of school because of an ear infection.
That evening Eli’s parents came into his room. His mom sat on the side of Eli’s bed and took his hand. “Eli, the doctor thinks you need an operation,” she said.
“What kind of operation?”
“He wants to put tubes in your ears to keep you from getting more infections,” Mom said. “It won’t hurt, and you’ll be out of the hospital in a day.” She squeezed his hand.
Eli trusted his parents. But the idea of having an operation scared him. He thought about the story he had heard in Primary about Joseph Smith. When Joseph was seven years old, the bone in his leg became infected. The infection got worse until the doctor decided that he must remove part of the bone or Joseph might lose his leg or even die.
In Joseph Smith’s day, doctors gave people liquor to help numb the pain during an operation, but Joseph refused the liquor the doctor suggested he drink. And he refused to be tied to the bed. He said that if his father held him, he wouldn’t move. Joseph’s father held him tightly in his arms throughout the painful surgery. The operation was successful, and Joseph recovered.
Eli thought about Joseph’s courage and faith in his father. “Can I have a blessing, Dad?” he asked. Eli knew a priesthood blessing could help him. At the beginning of the school year, Eli’s father had given him a blessing.
“That’s a great idea,” his father said.
Eli’s mother folded her arms and bowed her head. Eli felt his father’s hands on his head. His father’s voice grew in confidence as he blessed Eli that he would not be scared and that he would recover completely.
When the blessing was over, Eli was no longer afraid. “I can have the operation now,” he said.
Three days later he went to the hospital and returned home the next day. The ear infections soon stopped, and Eli quickly made up the schoolwork he had missed.
Eli was grateful that he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and that he could be blessed through the priesthood.

Such a project is ongoing on the Pacific Island nation of Kiribati.
Tamana Natanaera, the local self-reliance manager for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was tasked with finding members with gardening experience and a passion for growing things.
Working with local leaders, Tamana helped to identify seven qualified members whom he refers to as “champions.”
Each champion was given the equipment to set up a nursery tailored to fit in his or her available space.
A simple greenhouse was supplied to hold and protect seedling trays, as well as to offer shade as needed. Seeds were provided for growing nutritious produce such as cucumber, eggplant, capsicum, cabbage, tomato, watermelon, papaya and rock melon.
A watering system is a particular necessity in Kiribati. Although the 33 islands that comprise Kiribati stretch across 3.5 million square kilometres of ocean water, fresh water is very scarce.
The champions were thus each provided with a watering system composed of a small solar pump to draw water from a well, a water tank with a stand, and a piping system.
Tamana Natanaera noted that the water system given to the champions is a big help as it greatly improves their ability to produce more.
With these necessary tools, the champion gardeners are able to do their part. For two years now, they have been planting the seeds in the small trays and nurturing them.
When the seedlings are ready to be transplanted into a garden, the champions begin sharing them with neighbours and friends. They may ask their church leaders to announce to their congregation that seedlings are available. They may also give the seedlings to coworkers or to neighbours in their communities who are interested in growing their own produce.
When the champion has seedlings left over, they can transplant them into their own garden for their personal use or they may sell their excess produce to neighbours.
The Church will provide seeds to the champions for one more year and at the end of that period, the gardeners should be capable of producing their own seeds to maintain growing and sharing the seedlings. The program will continue to bless many people in Kiribati communities.
This project is not just an example of growing seedlings, but also of growing self-reliance, community spirit and neighbourly friendships. Underpinning all of this is a growing faith—among many participants—in He who created all things, and who cares for His children, one by one.

Our stake takes charge of providing sacrament meeting at a local care center. One Sunday, while waiting for the meeting to start, I saw an act of kindness I will never forget.
In the few minutes before the meeting, I decided to visit Verna, a resident who didn’t have any family visitors. I approached Verna’s room and noticed her standing in the hallway. Before I could reach her, she latched onto the arm of one of the Aaronic Priesthood boys who happened to be passing by. She looked up into his tanned face and cried, “David, my David, you have come to see me.”
The young man, a stranger, stopped. He didn’t ignore her or give her an awkward pat on the shoulder. He didn’t tell her that he was not her David. Instead, he smiled down at her, gently put his arms around her, held her tightly, and kissed her on the cheek as he would his own mother. While he carefully walked down the hall with his arm still affectionately around her, I heard her exclaim again, “Oh, David, my David.”
Tears sprang to my eyes to witness such a display of unconditional love. I was touched by this young man’s sensitivity and concern. He didn’t know Verna, but he knew her need, her loneliness. His example taught me what it really means to care for another human being.

On Sunday my bishop challenged every member of our ward to give out a copy of the Book of Mormon during the week. On Monday my family prayed to know who each person should give their Book of Mormon to. I felt like I should give mine to my preschool teacher, Miss Stacey. She attends a church right next to my ward building and has asked me a few questions about our church. During family home evening I marked the scripture passage Moroni 10:3–5 and bookmarked it with a pass-along card. I glued my picture in the front cover and wrote my name. I was so excited to give it to her! The next morning I walked to preschool and handed her the Book of Mormon. She smiled really big and said, “Thank you so much!” I’m so glad I accepted our bishop’s challenge to share a Book of Mormon.
Jackson M., age 5, Arizona, USA

After I was baptized, I had a lot of hard times with my family. Sometimes they wanted me to stay home on Sunday, but I would choose to go to church instead. Most of the time it was hard trying to keep on the covenant path.
Some of my family members have been against the Church and have told me that I made the wrong choice to join. When they tell me this, these words come to my mind: “I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ live. I know that the Church is true.” These thoughts have helped me hold on to the truth.

When I was a student at BYU, I had the opportunity to study abroad at the Jerusalem Center in Israel. We went on some incredible field trips. East of Jerusalem, the hills are dry and bare. Bedouins live there, raising sheep and goats, much like their ancestors in Jesus’s time … except now they have cell phones.
Our teachers told us to watch for a Bedouin leading his sheep by walking in front of them. It would make a great photo—and a powerful image of the Savior, the Good Shepherd.
During one bus ride, we saw a long line of sheep moving in single file up a hill. We all scrambled to one side of the bus with our cameras, ready to catch this perfect photo opportunity.
But when we reached the top of the hill, we were surprised to see the Bedouin walking to the side of the line of sheep. Confused, we looked for who the sheep were following. As we came over the ridge, we all laughed—the sheep were following a donkey!
That moment made me ask: Who am I really following? Am I following the Good Shepherd, or just the crowd in front of me? It’s easy to move through life on autopilot, doing what everyone else is doing, what makes me feel good, assuming we’re heading in the right direction. But sometimes, like those sheep, we might be following a donkey and not even know it.

I know of a returned missionary who thought he could take a peek at some pornography and not be hurt. One peek led to another and another. Pretty soon he was staying late at work and telling his wife he had a project to finish. His thoughts soon turned into actions. Before long, his life was destroyed. He could find no peace. He lost his job. He nearly lost his wife and children. He lost his temple blessings, his priesthood, and his membership in the Church. After nearly seven years of missed blessings, he was rebaptized and a year later had his priesthood blessings and ordinances restored. It was a rugged eight-year road he had to walk – all for a peek. None of us can afford to peek. As disciples of Christ, we must stand firm for the values and virtues of clean living that the Gospel of Jesus Christ teaches.

After several years of marriage, my husband ended up leaving our home, leaving me alone with six young children. My whole world turned upside down. I had no sufficient source of income to take care of my children and me.
Depressed and seeing no prospect in front of me, I decided one morning to end my life. My last-born son was five years old at the time came to me unexpectedly (probably sent by God) and said, “No mom, don’t do that. What do you want us to become without you?” I hugged my son Martin and we cried together. I felt a sense of guilt and shame. But I had decided to live.

One day a friend and I noticed a young mother standing by her truck looking very frustrated and unhappy. She had several children watching and waiting. We were prompted to stop and offer help. She explained that she had run out of gas while on her way to pick up a daughter from a dancing lesson. We said we’d go get some gas for her. She seemed grateful for the help but reluctant to be “on the receiving end.” When we returned with the gasoline, the woman was thankful but still a little uncomfortable.
Then an idea came to me. I said to her, “You’d do the same for us!” That stopped her. She thought about it, then broke into a smile. “You’re right! I would!”
I no longer remember where I was going that day, but I do remember the sweet experience of helping. I’m convinced that most of us would like to stop and help, but we’re unsure or busy or frightened. When you stop, it’s too late to try to find some instruction book or to attend a seminar on how to respond. Besides, there is no way that a manual or handbook can tell you how to respond in those moments when one single individual needs you. You get ready ahead of time and then react immediately when preparation meets opportunity.

A few years ago, I was driving home from work when a large semitruck, traveling in the opposite direction, lost one of its dual tires. The tire flew over the median separating our lanes. It came bouncing down my side of the freeway. Cars were swerving in both directions, drivers not knowing which direction the tire would bounce next. I dodged left when I should have dodged right, and the tire took its final bounce right on the corner of my windshield.
A friend called my wife to inform her of the accident. She told me later that her first thought was of lacerations from shattered glass. Indeed, I was covered with beads of broken glass but did not suffer a single scratch. It was definitely not because of my driving skills; rather, it was because the windshield of my little car was made of tempered glass.
Tempered glass, like tempered steel, undergoes a well-controlled heating process which increases strength. Thus, when tempered glass is under stress, it will not easily break into jagged shards that can injure.
Likewise, a temperate soul—one who is humble and full of love—is also a person of increased spiritual strength. With increased spiritual strength, we are able to develop self-mastery and to live with moderation. We learn to control, or temper, our anger, vanity, and pride. With increased spiritual strength, we can protect ourselves from the dangerous excesses and destructive addictions of today’s world.

I suppose there are some things in life that we would never get used to. I am reminded of an experience that happened many years ago while I was a young missionary. Between the north and south islands of New Zealand is a very rough body of water known as Cook Strait. Out in this rough water are many small and beautiful islands. On D‘Urville Island lived a large group of wonderful Maori people who were members of the Church. They were in an excellent branch of the Church and lived the gospel well. All were related to one another and were mainly professional fishermen.

President Matthew Cowley, my mission president, and I left Wellington on the steamer that sailed between the two islands. It was a rather large ship carrying up to 600 passengers. The only way for a passenger to get off the ship anywhere near D’Urville Island was to climb down a rope ladder lowered from the side of the ship at about two o’clock in the morning. This little maneuver didn’t frighten me too much until the time to perform it approached.

It was a dark night with no moon and few stars. As the ship slowed down to stop, President Cowley and I could see off in the distance a little light bobbing up and down in the water. It was a lantern held by one of the Maori men who was rowing out to pick us up. As it got closer, we could tell that the water was very rough.

Finally the boat was right under us and we could look over the railing and see them. Then we heard one of them shout for us to come down. The deck steward on the ship opened a gate in the railing and threw down the rope ladder. I looked down into the water that dark night, turned to President Cowley, and said, “You are the mission president. You go first.” He looked down that rope ladder into the darkness of the night and said, “I am the mission president. You go first.”

Fearfully, yet bravely, I started down the ladder. Never in my life had I ever climbed a rope ladder more than two or three rungs long. The first and second steps were easy because I could still feel that I was near the side of the ship. But the farther down I went, the farther the ladder hung away from the side of the ship. After I had gone down about six steps I felt very much alone and was hanging on for dear life, praying with each step.

I think that in the darkness of that night, thousands of miles away from home, I learned how to pray all over again. I was frightened, but I hung on and slowly and carefully took it one step at a time. Finally a large Maori hand grabbed me by the ankle, and a voice assured me, “You’ve made it!” I managed to get into the rowboat and put on a raincoat to keep from getting wet.

I sat down and relaxed. Then I looked up the long rope ladder to watch my wonderful mission president begin to climb down. I am sure he prayed just as hard as I did, and finally he made it into the boat. We were then with friends, feeling safe and secure. In a short while we were on dry land on D‘Urville Island. The whole branch was out to greet us in the middle of the night.

Several times while we were there, I thought of that rope ladder. I thought, That is something no one would ever get used to doing. You could never take that downward trip for granted. But doing it over and over would make it easier and possibly less frightening.

When our visit was over and it came time for us to return to the North Island it dawned on me that we needed to climb up that ladder. I discovered that a climb like that would be just as dangerous and treacherous as the climb down. This would require practically the same amount of prayer and effort.

I will never forget that one dark night in the islands of the sea. It was a most unusual and unique experience in my life.

He had not thought about the law of tithing, however, in his biblical study of Christ’s ancient church. It seemed a hard thing to give up one tenth of his income in his family’s difficult financial situation. “I don’t know if we can pay the tithing. Let’s wait until the Lord helps us (to be capable of paying), and then we will become members,” he told his wife.
His children and his wife helped him change his mind about putting off baptism. Daughter Angelina, then a teenager, had become convinced that the Church was true and wanted to join. She suggested to her mother that they plan a special birthday gift for her father—they would be baptized on his birthday, with him.
Ignacia Perez was not hard to convince. She had had a dream of her own. In it, a young man offered her a cup from which she was to drink. When she attended a sacrament meeting with her husband for the first time, at Angelina’s urging, Ignacia realized the cup in her dream had been a sacrament cup.
So she and the children studied the gospel with the missionaries, until finally she was ready to tell her husband, “We have a gift we want to give you for your birthday—but I have to tell you because it requires your consent.” He quickly gave permission, deciding then that they would simply find a way to pay tithing. He soon found it was not the difficulty he had imagined.
Ricardo and Ignacia Perez and their three oldest children—Angelina, Jorge, and Teresa—were baptized 26 January 1954. Their sons Israel and Victor were too young yet to be baptized, and their youngest son, Josue Ricardo, was not born until after the Perez family had been in the Church for three years.

Earlier this summer, for example, I had a weekend free. Yet the Spirit prompted me to fulfill a responsibility. I boarded the plane for San Francisco, and there met with our branch of single people in San Francisco, and then boarded the plane to go to Los Angeles, where I might have the opportunity to meet with our young adult leadership in the southern California area. As I sat down, the seat next to me was empty. However, there occupied that seat eventually a most beautiful young lady. I noted that she was reading a book. As one is wont to do, I glanced at the title: A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. I said to her, “Oh, you must be a Mormon.”
She responded, “Oh, no. Why would you ask?”
I replied: “Well, you’re reading a book written by a very prominent member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
She said, “Is that right? A friend gave this to me, but I don’t know much about it. However, it has aroused my curiosity.”
Then I wondered. Should I be forward and say more about the Church? And the words of Peter came again, to be ready at all times. And I decided that this was the time when I should bear my testimony. I told her that it was my privilege years ago to have assisted Elder Richards in printing A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. I told her of this great man. I told her of the many thousands of people who had embraced the truth after reading that which he had prepared. Then it was my privilege, all the way to Los Angeles, to answer her questions relative to the Church—intelligent questions, that came from a heart which was seeking the truth. I asked if I might have the opportunity to have missionaries call upon her. I asked if she would like to attend our branch in San Francisco. Her answers were affirmative. Upon returning home I wrote to President Irven G. Derrick of the San Francisco Stake and passed along to him this information. Can you imagine my delight when, about a month ago, I received a call from President Derrick, in which he said, “Elder Monson, I thought you would like to know that today Yvonne Ramirez, a stewardess with United Airlines, a young lady who sat next to you from San Francisco to Los Angeles, a young lady to whom you said that it was not coincidence that you sat next to her and that she was reading A Marvelous Work and a Wonder on that trip, has become the newest member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” I was overjoyed.
I realize that I have a responsibility to labor.

I know of a young priest who was asked by his bishop to fellowship an inactive quorum member. The bishop indicated that others had failed in their attempts to recover the boy. The final words of the bishop’s commission were: “Please save _________.” After many tries and failures, the miracle was wrought—the inactive returned to full activity in the quorum. It was thrilling for me to hear the hero in this experience bear testimony of the joy which he received as a result of his soul-saving efforts.

Years ago, near the time of that sacrament meeting, it occurred to me that I would sometime perhaps have a family. I even joked about them, calling them “the red heads.” My mother’s hair had been red when she was young. I certainly didn’t think the idea of red heads was inspiration, just an idea. But more than once that picture was enough to make me work, and wait.

If all my four sons were here tonight, you would see two blond heads and two red ones. In a kitchen chat one evening, one of them said to me he’d not mind exchanging red hair for beach-boy blond. I just smiled. All dads may think their sons are handsome, but I would not exchange his red hair, nor my early vision of it, for spun gold.

Fred and Jean wanted to buy a new appliance. They often went shopping together and compared various models. At last they found one they both liked, but they hesitated to buy it because of the high price. The next day, Fred went back to the store alone and bought the appliance as a surprise for Jean. He arranged to have it delivered while she was out of the house. When Jean returned and saw the appliance, she was upset. She accused Fred of being inconsiderate by leaving her out of the final decision. Her accusations led to an argument.
Judging is a frequent source of conflict in a marriage. Usually, as with the story of Fred and Jean, judgments are based on false assumptions. Both the assumptions as well as the accusations can lead to anger and resentment.

Hey, what’s the big idea? Boy, you sure know how to mess things up! Here we poor, hardworking missionaries are trying to keep to a strict schedule of time and yet you continue sending this fantastic magazine. How do you expect a missionary to go back out and tract after lunch when a fresh New Era has just arrived in the mail? Talk about temptation! Last Sunday my companion and I stumbled across a box full of old New Eras. Needless to say, we spent the next two hours reading them. After that we were ready to go out and convert the world. The New Era is most inspirational and a great help to the missionary work. But please—have it delivered on preparation day!

My return to God began after I had been in prison for more than a decade. A friend who visited me in the penitentiary for years gave me the Book of Mormon and invited me to read it. Although I promised I would, I continually put it off. One weekend my friend visited and asked if I had even picked up the book. Of course I had! I picked it up every time I cleaned my living quarters. But I had not read it—and it wasn’t until a serious conversation with my friend, who impressed upon me how important it was that I keep my promise, that I finally began reading.
I found many interesting stories in the Book of Mormon, but I told myself they were just that—stories. Then I reached Moroni 10:4. I’ll admit, I didn’t want to “ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ” whether the book was true; I didn’t want to think about the consequences for someone like me if it was. Besides, if this was the word of God, then the Atonement of Jesus Christ was real, and I hated to think how my actions had added to His suffering.
Still, I prayed. I didn’t see a vision or hear a voice saying that the book was true. But as I looked out my window on a clear summer day, an enormous storm cloud rolled across the sky. There was no rain—just a powerful wind—and as quickly as it came, the cloud passed again. And I knew. Just as Moroni had promised, the Spirit testified to my heart that the Book of Mormon was true—and that I needed to change.