Gospel Story Finder

Some friends of mine were starting clubs at school. One girl in my class came up to my desk during class and whispered, “Lacey, if you want to be in my club, come and meet me at recess.” When the bell rang for recess, I ran out to find her. I was excited to be in her club.
After waiting for some more girls to get there, she said, “OK, now, to be in my club, you have to write on your hands and arms with these markers.” Then she passed out markers to everyone. I got a feeling inside that this was wrong. In Primary I had learned that our bodies are temples of our spirits and that we should respect them. Drawing on them didn’t seem very respectful. I looked at my friend and said, “I’m sorry, but if I have to draw on myself, I don’t want to be in your club.”
I’m glad that the Holy Ghost helped me to make the right choice for me.

A year ago Kennedy decided to serve a mission and become those arms of the Savior for others. His “better than adopted family”, his brother Bwalya, and his determined Bishop Simbeya in the Libala Ward helped him prepare.
For many African missionaries, their first opportunity to attend the temple is when they come to the missionary training center in Ghana. It is also their first and often only opportunity to do ordinance work for their deceased parents, siblings, or grandparents until they return home and are able to have sufficient resources to travel to the nearest temple.
Elder and Sister Meredith serve as temple and family history missionaries in the Africa West Area and spend time at the MTC each Sunday helping interested missionaries prepare their ancestors’ names so they can do temple work for them in the short time they are there. Their most joyous efforts occur in opportunities to help missionaries who want to do work for their own parents. Such was the case with Kennedy Chitalu.
While he was at the Ghana MTC, before departing to the Kenya Nairobi Mission, he was able to attend the house of the Lord and take part in not just his father’s ordinance work but also the sealing of his parents and finally his sealing to them for time and all eternity. He was so excited he didn’t want forget even a moment of his experience and stayed in the temple to savor the spirit he felt as long as he was able.

Often the blessings come long before the end, while you’re in the service of the Lord. Jo has seen that happen many times on his mission—such as the day he met Kevin Smith.
Kevin had become interested in the Church through the fine example of a young Latter-day Saint woman in his office, and he had requested a copy of the Book of Mormon from the Blackpool Ward. Jo and his companion volunteered to deliver the scripture to him.
“At that point I wasn’t sufficiently interested in the Church to have missionaries in my home,” says Kevin, who has been confined to a wheelchair for the past sixteen years. “I had a stereotyped image of Mormon elders—tall, fresh young American lads straight out of college, wearing stylish suits, with toothpaste-advertisement smiles. I probably wouldn’t have opened the door if they had looked like that. But here were two down-to-earth people, one just as surprised as I was at the sight of a wheelchair.”
“Kevin is such a great guy,” exclaims Elder Folkett, who was surprised to find his investigator in a wheelchair. “Even before we got to his house the first time, I felt that something good would happen.”
Elder Folkett and Kevin got along well from the moment they met, and Jo baptized Kevin not long after that first discussion.

Recently, I attended a stake conference and heard a story of member activation that moved me deeply. The bishop of one of the wards in the stake took a keen interest in arousing inactive brethren to Church activity. He knew that the first step was one of communication, that he must have a meaningful visit with each inactive brother.
So he began by telephoning one of them. The wife answered the phone and said, “Bishop, I surely appreciate your call. My husband is outside, but I will have him come to the phone.”
When the husband heard that it was the bishop that wished to speak to him, his reaction was as expected. He attempted to sidestep this phone call and responded, “Tell the bishop that I’m out sawing logs,” and with a humorous touch, “Tell him I’m dead.”
The brother spoke the truth more literally than he realized. It was true. He was sawing logs, and tragically, he was dead to the spiritual things of his life.
A good wife, however, is a mighty force in any man’s life, and, in a kindly manner, she persuaded her husband to come to the phone.
Then the bishop, using the power of suggestion and in a friendly voice, said, “I should very much appreciate having a visit with you for a few moments this evening in my office.” The brother couldn’t refuse so warmhearted an invitation, and a meeting took place.
The testimony of the bishop and his deep concern kindled a fire in the heart of the inactive brother, and he agreed to join the temple preparation class that was about to begin.
Each session, taught by a tactful teacher with a great knowledge of the truth and an inspiring testimony, motivated the inactive brother. He resolved to strengthen his family and bind them together eternally through the blessings of the temple.
This good brother may still be sawing logs, but there is now much more. He has added for himself an indescribable dimension of happiness, as well as joy to the lives of each and every family member.

Fasting is not only a source of knowledge, but a means of attaining other spiritual goals as well. The great power of fasting was demonstrated to our family when I was only 16 years old. Mother had become seriously ill. Medical diagnosis revealed that she had cancer. Furthermore, if the malignant cells were not removed she would die. The only chance was an operation that had been performed only rarely before. My father called the family together and asked if my brothers and sisters and I would be willing to pray and fast for mother. Of course we agreed and began an extended period of fasting. During the fast mother was administered to and in the blessing was promised that she would live to raise her children. The operation was a success. When my mother died in 1969, my youngest sister was 20 years old. Truly the power of fasting is remarkable.

For instance, I once visited in a counseling session with a young woman in her early twenties, hurt and angry because her father had verbally exploded at her the night before. She asked, “How am I supposed to feel any self-esteem?” With a strong sense of ill-usage, she told of a friend working in law enforcement who wanted to prosecute her ex-boyfriend who had introduced her to illegal drugs. She thought this was unfair and she felt responsible for her ex-boyfriend’s getting in further trouble with the law. You see, this boyfriend had returned to dealing drugs after serving a prison term for the same thing. In addition, he had kept all her furniture the last time she moved out and, incidentally, had given her an STD. Yet she had just a week previously contemplated moving in with him again, rather than stay with a new boyfriend (not an ex-felon and with a stable job).

It’s important to understand that this was a very nice young woman. She was attractive and could obviously be lively and fun. She wanted to be drug-free and out of debt (“but how am I supposed to pay my bills if I’m in a re-hab center?”). Those living at a telestial level are not necessarily unpleasant or “bad” people. Nevertheless, they are allowing appetites and passions to govern their choices and their lives. Eventually, the consequences start to pile up for them and for those around them. While not a terrible person, this young woman was not a very safe candidate in terms of potential for marriage or motherhood.

Zulma sat on one of the church benches and smoothed the skirt of her school uniform. Colored light shone through the stained-glass windows, and a cross stood at the front of the chapel. Zulma went to a church school, so she went to worship services twice a day with the other students. Zulma liked her church. She loved Jesus and loved to learn about Him.
She sat quietly as the priest began to talk. But today something felt different. Suddenly a new thought came into her mind and heart: There is more truth out there.
Zulma scrunched her eyebrows. More truth? What did that mean?
The thought came again. There is more truth.
Zulma closed her eyes and focused on what she was feeling. She had learned lots of good things at church. But now she wondered if something was missing. Maybe there was more that God wanted her to know. But how could she find it?
Later she talked to her older brother, Alberto, about her thoughts.
“You think there’s more truth out there?” Alberto asked.
Zulma nodded. “I want to learn about other churches,” she said.
“OK,” Alberto replied. “I’ll go with you!”
For several years, Zulma and Alberto visited different churches. After one church service, Alberto said, “That church taught good things.”
Zulma agreed, but they still felt like something was missing, so they kept searching.
One day Alberto raced up the steps to their house. “I found the church we’re looking for!” Alberto said. He gave Zulma a big hug.
Zulma’s eyes got wide. “Where? How?”
“My friend met some missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” Alberto said. “I listened to them, and I believe what they taught!”
Zulma and Alberto were so happy that they danced all around the house. But then Zulma got some bad news. Mamá didn’t want her to meet with the missionaries. “You’re only 12,” Mamá said. “You’re too young.”
Since Alberto was older, he was allowed to keep meeting with the missionaries. A few weeks later, he was baptized.
Zulma kept asking Mamá again and again if she could learn from the missionaries. Finally, Mamá said yes.
When the missionaries taught Zulma, she felt warm in her heart. One of the missionaries had a hard time speaking Spanish, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was how good Zulma felt. When she learned about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, she knew she had found the truth she was looking for!
Zulma wanted to be baptized. But what would Mamá say? Zulma was so happy when Mamá said yes!
On the day of her baptism, Zulma dressed all in white. She knew God loved her. She knew He knew her. And she knew that He had helped her find His restored Church!
Here is Zulma as a young girl in Uruguay. On the right is a photo of her today with her husband, Elder Walter F. González of the Seventy.

There was a young couple who found themselves deeply in love with each other, or so they thought. He was not living the standards, and they decided they would not at that time qualify for a temple recommend. Their marriage was a civil one when it could have been an eternal one. The years passed and children graced their home. There was no religious activity and little spiritual comfort when death stalked the premises and the marriage and sweet family relationships were terminated by the grim reaper.

There have been those who have finally found great joy in the gospel after having resisted it for years. Invariably they have said, “All these years we’ve spurned the missionaries. Why didn’t we listen sooner? We could have had many years more of the happiness we now enjoy.”

He said:
“These are shoes of a young convert to the Church whose family situation was strained, yet he was determined to serve a successful mission and did so in Guatemala. Upon his return I met with him to extend an honorable release and saw his shoes were worn out. This young man had given his all to the Lord without much, if any, family support.
“He noticed I was staring at his shoes and asked me, ‘President, is anything wrong?’
“I responded, ‘No, Elder, everything is right! Can I have those shoes?’”
The stake president continued: “My respect and love for this returning missionary was overwhelming! I wanted to memorialize the experience, so I had his shoes bronzed. It is a reminder to me when I walk into this office of the effort we all must give regardless of our circumstances. The verse was from Isaiah: ‘How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth!’ (Isaiah 52:7).”

Amherst Ward, Springfield Massachusetts Stake
My name is Nichole Jewkes, and I am eleven years old. I live in Belchertown, Massachusetts. I am one of only three Latter-day Saints in my middle school. This has been a big change for me because I just recently moved here from Utah. Since not many people in my school know about the Church, I have a great opportunity to do missionary work.
I wear my CTR ring to school every day. People look at my ring and ask what CTR stands for. I always reply, “Choose the right.” And they say, “Cool!” and move on.
One day, my friend Christine noticed my CTR ring and asked what it stands for. I answered, “Choose the right.” Christine said, “Wow! This is so cool!” Then she asked me where I had gotten it. I said that I got it from my church. She asked me how much one costs and if she could buy one. I said that I’d get one for her for free. She acted surprised and said, “Thank you so much.”
I got a CTR ring from my Primary president on Sunday and took it to school on Monday. Christine was very excited and said thank you so many times! She continued to wear it every day and was always telling me how neat it was and how much she loved it.
A few days later, another friend named Julie also noticed my CTR ring. She noticed that Christine had one, too. Julie thought they were neat and asked where we had gotten them. I asked her if she would like one, and she said, “Oh yes, please!”
Now when Julie sometimes says the Lord’s name in vain, she’ll remember and say, “Sorry.” And when older kids swear around me, she’ll say, “Don’t swear around Nichole; she doesn’t like it.” It is nice to know that even though my friends do not belong to our church, they are still trying to choose the right and stand up for me.
I have learned from living here and having many friends who are not LDS that most people are still really good people, trying to do good things with their lives. I hope the CTR rings continue to strengthen Julie and Christine and that I can continue to invite them to church and Church activities. I hope we can all continue to be good missionaries, no matter how old we are.

A Primary teacher told me about a powerful experience with his class of 11-year-old boys. One of them, whom I’ll call Jimmy, was an uncooperative loner in class. One Sunday the teacher was inspired to put aside his lesson and tell why he loved Jimmy. He spoke of his gratitude and his belief in this young man. Then the teacher asked the class members to tell Jimmy something they appreciated about him. As class members, one by one, told Jimmy why he was special to them, the boy lowered his head and tears began to roll down his face. This teacher and class built a bridge to Jimmy’s lonely heart. Simple love, honestly expressed, gives hope and value to others. I call this “repairing the breach or the gap.”

A kind voice with an accent asked, hesitantly, “Is this the Liahona?”
I had walked into the Liahona offices in Salt Lake City where I worked and discovered a ringing phone. It was early morning, and I probably wasn’t at my best. But grateful the caller spoke some English, I replied with whatever cheer I could find, “It is. How can we help you?”
He explained that he was president of a stake several time zones away. Another Liahona editor had contacted him months earlier, asking for more information about a member of his stake who had submitted an article. He explained that he hadn’t known the stake member the editor had called about. The man seemed to have never attended church in his stake. He must have fallen out of Church activity after submitting his article.
The stake president explained that he had been uncomfortable once this member’s name was brought to his attention. So he went to the rescue. He found the man. He and others fellowshipped him.
All these months later, the potential author was now active and progressing in the gospel. And the stake president had called to let us know.

Brother Saw Polo was 58 years old when he was introduced to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. When I met him, he had been serving as a branch president for several years, but I learned that he had never read the Book of Mormon because it was not yet available in his native Burmese. When I asked him how he knew that the book was true without having read it, he replied that he had studied the Book of Mormon Stories picture book every day by looking at the illustrations, using a dictionary to translate the English words, and taking careful notes of what he learned. He explained, “Every time I studied, I would pray about what I learned, and I would feel peace and joy, my mind would be clear, and my heart would be soft. I felt the Holy Ghost testifying to me that it was true. I know that the Book of Mormon is the word of God.”

I have, on occasion, received gifts of love like the gift Nephi received. I will share one experience from my time as a college student. I was starting a new program at a new University. I didn't know anyone. The program was hard. It took me too many hours of very hard work to even glimpse success. I remember one particular afternoon. The despair from failure and difficulty and loneliness was crushing me. The natural man was getting the upper hand.

My roommates were away and I knelt in my room and prayed. I prayed deeply because what I was doing was clearly not working. I also prayed for some sort of immediate relief because I felt so low. While I was praying the phone rang. We had no caller ID. Containing my emotion, I answered the phone. On the other end, I heard my angel mother say, "Alan, I was just thinking about you. How are you doing?" Somehow, God let her know my need and she responded in an instant. Her God-given, unconditional love swept over the miles and filled my heart with peace and confidence. Through her, Heavenly Father's love consumed the natural man I was battling.

When my car broke down beyond repair, I knew it was time to buy a new one. After months of searching for a used car I could afford, I finally settled on a conservative four-door sedan.
When I got the car, a thought occurred to me: “This is a nice car. Maybe I should only play nice music in it.” So at that point I made a new rule for myself: no hard rock music in the car.
This was difficult for me at first because I had become used to hard rock music. But I started listening to big band music, LDS and other Christian music, and talks by Church leaders and speakers. Before I knew it, I had gone without listening to hard rock music in my car for a year and a half.
With these new kinds of music in my car, I can see some great changes in my life. My challenges with morality and sin have become much easier to conquer. I realized how much rock music had influenced my past decisions. I used to jump in my old car, turn on my music as loud as I could, and then drive to places that I knew I shouldn’t go.
But now, as I listen to good and sacred music in my car, I find that music protects me from temptations. I find myself more able to listen to the promptings of the Spirit.
It’s now an automatic choice for me to listen to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir or to learn about Joseph Smith as I drive, rather than choosing to listen to my old music. I find myself wondering why I listened to that kind of music in the first place.
I now understand why modern-day prophets encourage us to listen to good music. The difference in my life before and after my decision proves to me that hard rock music has a negative effect on those who listen to it. Believe me, I know from experience.

I am 16 years old and am encountering some dangerous temptations. If I had not heard President Hinckley’s talk, I might not have known how to react to one of these.
One day at school, a friend called a group of us to come over and see something. When we went to see what she had, we discovered it was a drug, marijuana. I became pale with fear. My friend asked me to try it. Without thinking, I yelled, “You are crazy. You shouldn’t have this. Let’s go!”
My friend did not listen to me, and I began to pray silently for the power to touch the hearts of each of my friends in the group. I grabbed the package and threw it away. At first my friends were angry, but I could not contain my relief and happiness. I used the opportunity to explain that marijuana is wrong.
As we talked, I remembered what President Hinckley said about drugs, and I was able to pass on those words to my friends. I know the Spirit of the Lord was whispering to me the words I had in my heart.
Daniela Brocca, age 16,Jardim da Saúde Ward, S•o Paulo Brazil Parque Bristol Stake

Recently, the young women in our ward participated in an activity called “Adopt a Sister” to become better acquainted with the Relief Society sisters in our ward. I know my time in Young Women is not going to last forever, so I was looking forward to participating in this activity. Having a few friends in Relief Society would make me feel more welcome.
As the young women were paired with Relief Society sisters, I listened for a familiar name but did not hear any. My assigned sister was Sister Lemler, a total stranger to me.
We were told to get to know our sisters before an upcoming dinner that was to be held in their honor. At first I was really nervous to call Sister Lemler; I wondered if she would like me. I finally summoned the courage to dial her number. Through a few phone conversations, I learned that she was a really nice person, more similar to me than not. When Sister Lemler was a teenager, things were quite different. I learned she had to wear skirts and dresses to school.
When we were given the assignment to become better acquainted with our Relief Society sisters, my sister, Carolyn, and my friend, Stephanie, and I wanted to visit them. At first I was unable to arrange a time to visit Sister Lemler since she has a full-time job, so I decided to go with Carolyn and Stephanie to visit their sisters. We wanted to bring them something to let them know we cared, so we decided to make them each a small refrigerator magnet—a red heart with a meaningful thought written on it.
When we delivered our hearts and visited with these wonderful sisters, we asked questions like “What was your high school like?” and “What jobs have you had?”
Carolyn’s adopted Relief Society sister, Sister Hinkle, was a retired high school teacher. Stephanie’s adopted Relief Society sister, Sister Pusey, has an interesting job writing books, helping others to find their lost family members, and working with adoptions.
A couple of weeks later, all the young women in the ward prepared a nice dinner for our Relief Society sisters. The room was filled with interesting conversations and laughter. Our Relief Society sisters shared their experiences and travels, and we young women shared our hobbies and interests. Now when I see these sisters during church, they are no longer unfamiliar faces. They are my friends. I look forward to knowing all the sisters in Relief Society, who will become my friends.

Other girls had normal little brothers who were cute, happy, and all-around great. I had Mark.
Somehow Mark seemed to be the most obnoxious little brother in the world. Whenever I cleaned a room in the house, he would mess it up in no time. At the times when I was in a terrible mood, he would bother me until I sent him crying to Mother. Soon afterwards I’d get in trouble.
“Why can’t he leave me alone?” I would often pout in the solitude of my room. “Why can’t he be normal?”
One day I stomped into my room after a trying day at school. Nothing had gone right at all. Somebody knocked at the door. From the corner of my eye I saw Mark’s small frame.
“I have something to show you,” he said in a nervous voice.
I ignored him, hoping that I wouldn’t have to contend with him right then.
“I have something to show you,” he repeated. He shifted uneasily from side to side and awaited my answer.
“Okay,” I grumbled with my back to him. He stepped into the room and began talking to me. He was very uncomfortable as he stammered through a short remark.
“In my homeroom class we were assigned to write an essay on somebody in our family, and …” He paused. Then with renewed determination, he blurted, “Read this.” He dropped a piece of folded paper on the floor next to me, then hurried out of the room.
Curiously, I unfolded the paper and prepared myself to proofread it for him. “My sister Kristi is my favorite sister. I like her because she is nice.” A wave of guilt swept over me. I read on. “She drove me to piano lessons. After we had our lesson, she would drive us to 7-11. We took turns treating each other to Slurpees.” I had no idea he enjoyed that so much. What a cute little brother!
I read about some of my accomplishments that he had admired. The essay finished with, “I’m glad Kristi is my sister. She is about the best there can be. Well, I think so.”
I thought of the many times that I had turned him away when he tried to cheer me up. I was so selfish. I read John 13:34: “A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another.” I now had a new attitude towards Mark. He was the cutest little brother in the world. I realized how much he meant to me and how much I loved him.
I pulled out a piece of paper and picked up my pen. “Dear Mark, Thank you for letting me read the essay that you wrote. I really love you a lot. I know that I can be mean at times. Please forgive me. …” I continued to tell him how much I appreciated him. I folded the paper and delivered it to him. He looked embarrassed as he took the paper from my hand.
Since then, I have enjoyed my little brother’s company. Whenever I talk about my brother to my friends, I always begin with, “I have the cutest little brother in the world!”

As part of the Rise and Reach summer programme, on August 15, September 3, and October 24 of 2020, a group consisting of youth, young single adults and full-time missionaries of the Church in Walworth, London, undertook service projects for Thames Reach at three different sites. Thames Reach is a charitable organisation that supports homeless and vulnerable individuals, some with mental health concerns, to access housing, training, and employment opportunities.

For various reasons, including the national lockdown caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, no gardening had taken place at the charity’s sites for a long time and so the gardens were much in need of care. Thus, when the offer of help was made, Amy, the manager of facilities for Thames Reach readily accepted.

The tasks for the volunteers involved cutting back overgrown foliage, tree branches, weeds, and litter-picking around the properties. The efforts of volunteers resulted in very noticeable differences in the appearance of the gardens.

Amy was delighted with the results. She remarked that finally the residents would be able to use the gardens again. She said the residents were very pleased with the transformation. Thanks to the tremendous hard work of this group of volunteers, the residents at the homes could now enjoy their outdoor spaces more fully.

As the funeral procession of cars turned onto the small road leading to the cemetery, memories ran through my mind. In my sadness over the untimely death of my father, I sought comfort in the gospel and the scriptures. Ecclesiastes 3:1 came to mind: “To every thing there is a season.”
My family did not attend a church regularly when I was young, but my parents manifested their faith in the Christlike way they helped those in need and in the way they let each of us children know we were loved. My parents had been a part of every season of my life except one, and that season brought great sorrow to them because they did not understand and would not listen to my testimony of what I had found.
When I was 17, some good friends introduced me to the Church. The restored gospel answered questions I had had for years, but my parents would have nothing to do with it. When I joined the Church at 18, only my grandmother attended my baptism. She was not a Latter-day Saint, but she seemed to understand my spiritual need, and she assured me that someday my parents would accept my decision.
I married shortly after my baptism and moved away with my husband. I shared news of my temple sealing a few years later in a letter to my parents, telling them of my joy and newfound faith. But I was unable to interest them in the gospel. Now my father was gone, and my mother and little sister were left alone.
My thoughts were interrupted as the cars came to a stop. Immediately to our left I noticed a monument covered with foliage. An engraving on the stone seemed to beckon us, but we went to the graveside service without inspecting it.
After the service had ended, we expressed our gratitude to friends and relatives and said our good-byes. My husband, mother, and I then walked to the monument. Inscribed on it was a scripture that would change my family forever: “For behold, this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” (Moses 1:39).
For the first time, 14 years after my baptism and confirmation, my mother asked questions. Because of the restored gospel, I could provide answers. She and my sister were baptized and confirmed shortly thereafter. A little more than a year later, my father’s temple work was completed.
More than 30 years have passed since that day at the cemetery. During that time, members of our extended family have been sealed together in the temple. My mother became a Relief Society president and gave several years of devoted service. My sister married, had children, and served many years as a Laurel leader, president of the Young Women, and worker for LDS Family Services.
To everything there is a season—including a time of joy and a time of sorrow. I am thankful for the knowledge that prayers are answered in God’s own season and that the scriptures offer us words of life as we search, ponder, and share them with one another.