Gospel Story Finder

“I’m sorry, but no one is allowed in the garden area.” The tall Franciscan monk spoke with a firm voice in answer to my request to photograph inside the Garden of Gethsemane. Determined to return another day and try again, I walked down the gradual slope of the Mount of Olives and crossed the top end of Kidron Valley on the way to the old city of Jerusalem.
A paved highway runs down this upper end of the valley; it rises and winds around the base of the Mount of Olives on its way to Jericho. Gethsemane sits to one side of the road, next to the hustle of buses and taxis and donkeys braying with heavy loads of goods on the way to markets of the Old City.
Mount of Olives hillside
Gethsemane is just a simple grove of trees in a garden on the side of a rocky hill. It is a quiet place, except for the occasional tourist groups and hawking peddlers, and the nearby traffic.
Yet, in this grove of ancient trees one of the most important events in the history of mankind took place. In this little garden the Savior agonized as he suffered for the sins of all the world. He made it possible for us to return to the presence of God. That means that if we repent and live in sweet obedience to the Father’s will, we will not be required to pay the awful debt for the sins we have committed; Jesus did that in Gethsemane.
An olive tree in the Garden of Gethsemane
Leaving Gethsemane, you can easily see old Jerusalem above terraced hillsides. Next to the wall of the city, Arab shepherd boys often bring their sheep and goats to graze in the grass around the Moslem gravestones. Seeing the sheep silhouetted against the sky, it is easy to imagine what it was like here during the Savior’s lifetime.
Jerusalem seen from the Mount of Olives
Further up the hill, the road branches to one side, going up to Saint Stephen’s Gate and the base of the ancient temple mount. Here you can look back at Gethsemane from above. On this particular afternoon, the garden lay half in shadow with the sun glistening in several light-filled corners. A few Arab buses careened noisily around the serpentine curves of the highway below, but the air seemed somehow quiet. There in the stillness of my thoughts, I wondered about the little procession of disciples meandering across the valley toward Gethsemane, the Savior leading them in calm dignity as he approached the terrors of that incredible night.
Darkness falls swiftly in Jerusalem, and soon the blackness of the night was all around me. There was a slight chill in the evening air as I hurried home.
St. Stephen’s Gate in the wall of Jerusalem
Several days later I arrived after closing time, and the great iron doors to the garden were shut and locked. After much persistent bell ringing, a monk came to the gate and kindly allowed me to enter the empty courtyard. We talked for a minute, and then he surprised me with, “Would you like to go into the garden area?” Taking a handforged key from his belt, he opened the small iron gate that led into the garden.
I wandered along the flower-lined gravel paths, next to the great patriarch olive trees. The color of the red flowers reminded me of the blood that came from every pore of the Savior’s body as he suffered here. The old gnarled and pitted trunks of the olive trees spoke of the struggle and pain of spirit that Jesus felt in this garden. Pondering these things, I didn’t notice the darkness gathering around the garden.
A path in the Garden of Gethsemane
Reverently and privately knelt for a moment, there in Gethsemane, to thank God for the blessing of his Son. The trees were dark and gray as I left them. But looking up toward the city I could see one of its radiant sunsets. Jerusalem, the “City of Gold,” the hope of ages past, present, and future because of the atonement that took place here.

A couple of years ago I got into drinking. I drank as kind of an experiment. Around here there isn’t a lot to do so my friends all drink and party. I wanted to be like them, I guess. After I started drinking, I felt almost hopeless. At first I thought I was happy, that I was having fun, but I realize I was miserable. I thought, what’s the point in trying to change? I just didn’t feel worthy.
I really love football, and one day after practice I came home to find my mom sitting there. We talked about my drinking, and she called the school. I was suspended for a couple of games. That was a really big kick in the head for me—I realized I needed to change.
My family and some people in my ward helped me and made me feel loved. As I went through the repentance process, I gained a strong testimony of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. It’s so amazing to feel how much Heavenly Father loves us. It’s just crazy to me that He would send His Son to die for me when I mess up so much. You can always call upon Heavenly Father no matter what, and He will be there for you if you are willing to try and change.
I’m so much happier now than I was when I was drinking and partying. The gospel just brings you so much happiness if you turn to God and strive to improve yourself. It’s totally worth it.
Jens P., 18, Illinois, USA

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 love to play soccer, but because I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I didn’t want to play on Sundays. It was hard for me to tell my coach that I wouldn’t be able to practice on Sunday, but when I explained that I attend church, he still let me join the team.
Since I missed Sunday practices, my teammates wouldn’t always trust my skill level. I prayed that I would be focused and play well during practice, since I didn’t have as much practice time as the rest of the team. When the final tournament came around, I was invited to participate in the game. I know God helped me to achieve that goal.

Sabine’s joy has expanded as her own testimony of the gospel has become strong. “I felt I had to know for myself if what I believe is the right thing. I also decided to receive my patriarchal blessing. I did a lot of praying and searching and talking to people and asking questions and finding out for myself. But everything fits. You get this feeling inside that, of course, this is the right thing. It is so amazing.”
One scripture that especially speaks to Sabine is in Doctrine and Covenants 88:63. [D&C 88:63] It talks about seeking and finding, asking and receiving the answers, knocking and opening. For her, it works. “It’s so clear. If you do this, that will happen.” And as Sabine finds the answers and draws near to the Lord, she brings her friends with her, introducing practically everyone she meets to the gospel. Missionary work is so natural to her; it’s just a part of her life.

Olivia hung her head as she listened to the excited whispers of the girls sitting behind her on the bus.
“I’m so glad your mom said you could get off at my bus stop with me! Did you bring the games?”
“I’ve got them. My mom let me bring a bag of popcorn too!”
Olivia frowned into the book she was reading. Didn’t they know she could hear them? She definitely didn’t like listening to her two friends make plans for something she wasn’t invited to.
Stephanie, Rebecca, and Olivia had been friends for a long time. They used to do everything together. But when the new school year started, Stephanie and Rebecca found out they had the same teacher, while Olivia was in a different class! Olivia remembered the sad feeling she had in her stomach as the two girls eagerly talked about sitting next to each other in class and eating together at lunch. She had that same sad feeling now.
The bus rolled to a stop in front of Rebecca’s house. Olivia watched miserably from the window as the girls jumped off the bus and ran to the front yard.
By the time the bus finally reached Olivia’s stop, she could barely hold back her tears. She hurried into the house.
“How was school?” Mom asked.
Olivia started crying. “It was awful! Rebecca and Stephanie barely even talk to me anymore, and we were supposed to be best friends forever!” she sobbed.
“I’m so sorry, Olivia. It’s hard when friendships start to change,” Mom said. She paused for a moment. “Do you remember when we went to the temple to be sealed?” she asked, pointing at the picture hanging on the wall. Olivia looked and saw her family smiling in front of the temple. She had been a lot younger then, but she could still remember being with her parents and older sister, Jane, in the beautiful sealing room.
“Do you know why we worked so hard to get ready to go to the temple?” Mom asked.
“Because we wanted to be a family forever?” Olivia said.
“Exactly. Even if you’re not best friends with Rebecca and Stephanie forever, you’ll still have your family as your friends forever.”
“Yeah,” Olivia said. “But it’s not the same.”
“I know your feelings are hurt,” Mom said, “but I’m glad you’re home. I have a job for you and Jane.”
Olivia couldn’t believe her ears. Instead of helping her feel better, Mom was giving her chores!
“Go put on some old clothes and meet me on the back porch. Tell Jane to come too.”
Olivia went upstairs, stomping her feet a little, and put on her work clothes.
When the girls were dressed and outside, they saw Mom walking back from the shed. She was carrying a green can, some paintbrushes, and a wadded-up sheet of plastic. When she got to the porch, she laid down the plastic and handed each girl a brush.
“You’re going to let us paint something?” Olivia asked skeptically. Usually Dad did those kinds of projects.
“Yep,” Mom said. “I want the back door painted by dinner time.” And then she turned and went into the house.
The girls looked at each other for a long moment and then grinned. This could be fun. They dipped their brushes in the smooth, green paint and got to work. Olivia liked this job—it didn’t seem like doing chores at all. Jane showed her how to move her brush in long, even strokes. Soon the girls were laughing and talking. Olivia started to remember all the fun times she and Jane had spent together. She was glad she would always have her sister for a friend.
A couple of hours later, the girls were covered in splotches of green paint and wearing huge smiles. Olivia carefully opened the shiny green door and poked her head inside. “Mom, we’re done with the door,” she called. “Come see how great it looks!”
Mom came outside and looked at the door. “That’s beautiful,” she said. “I love how it turned out.” She gave the girls each a hug. “Did painting help?”
Olivia nodded. “I guess I was just feeling sorry for myself,” she said. “I’m glad Jane is my sister.”
“And your family will always be there for you,” Mom said.
Olivia smiled. “I know. It’s good to remember that.”

When I was a boy, my maternal grandfather had a large cherry orchard. I had the opportunity to work in the orchard, mostly in the summer during the harvest of the cherries. As a very young boy, I found that the extent of my involvement was being handed a bucket and then sent up a tree to pick the cherries.

The harvesting of cherries changed significantly when my grandfather purchased a machine called a cherry shaker. This machine grabs the trunk of the tree and shakes it, causing the cherries to fall out of the tree onto nets that are used to collect the cherries. I noticed that when the shaker would begin to shake the tree, almost all the cherries fell out of the tree within seconds. I also noticed that it didn’t matter if the tree was shaken for 10 seconds or a full minute, some cherries would not fall. They were truly unshakable.

While I was serving in Venezuela, we taught a man who had investigated many churches but still had not found what he was looking for. He loved everything we taught him about the Church, but he did not feel he had received an answer through prayer. He began to have a lot of doubts. Then his doubts disappeared. He told us that he had been jogging in the park when he found a Liahona on an empty bench. He sat down and read it, and it answered his questions. He then was able to set a baptism date. Thank you for the Liahona!Elder Jordan Eves, Chile Viña del Mar Mission

On Saturday Stephanie was happy because her grandma had come to visit. They had fun making round cookies, square cookies, and heart-shaped cookies.
On Sunday Stephanie and Grandma bundled into warm coats, furry hats, and warm gloves. They walked to church together. Grandma liked the talk Stephanie gave in Primary.
On Monday Stephanie put on a puppet show for Grandma and Rex the cat. Grandma laughed and clapped her hands. Rex licked his paw and went to sleep.
On Tuesday Grandma and Stephanie rode the bus to town for lunch. Stephanie was happy to see a fancy toothpick in her chicken sandwich.
Wednesday was Valentine Day, but Stephanie was sad. Grandma was going home today. Grandma handed Stephanie a long white envelope.
Stephanie opened the envelope. It was empty! “It’s a hide-and-seek valentine,” Grandma explained. “If you look in the kitchen, the living room, and your bedroom, you will have a valentine.”
“What fun!” Stephanie began searching in the living room. First she looked on the couch; then she ran to the bookcase. There she found a piece of red paper with lace on its edge.
Next Stephanie went to the kitchen. She looked and looked but couldn’t find anything on the counters or table. Then she looked in the silverware drawer and found another piece of the valentine.
Stephanie ran to her bedroom. A piece of shiny red paper with lace was hiding under her pillow.
“Now put the pieces together,” suggested Grandma. Stephanie laid the pieces on her bed and made a lacy heart-shaped valentine.
“The best part is still missing,” said Grandma. She gave Stephanie a big hug and said, “I love you.”

“On another occasion,” Jenny continues, “during the fitness award practice walks we had to carry a backpack, and I felt so weighed down that I nearly quit. Usually, before such a big trial, I ask Dad for a blessing. This time I realized I’d forgotten. I was just about to look for a phone to call Mum to come and get me when a line from my patriarchal blessing came into my head: ‘You can achieve anything you set your heart to do.’ And with help from my Heavenly Father, I did it.”

In 1831, Joseph and Emma traveled to Kirtland, Ohio. When they reached the Newel K. Whitney and Co. store, Joseph jumped out of the sleigh to greet a Church member he had never met.
Newel K. Whitney! Thou art the man!
You have the advantage of me. I could not call you by name as you have me.
I am Joseph the Prophet. You’ve prayed me here. Now what do you want of me?
Joseph had seen a vision of the Whitney family praying for him to come to Kirtland. He recognized Brother Whitney from the vision.
Joseph and Emma stayed with Brother and Sister Whitney for a few weeks.

I began school again and started dating. I could see that I was progressing, but I felt that I would always view my mission with a little bitterness. Then a friend of mine reminded me that the Savior’s Atonement can heal all pain and bitterness. With His help I could be happy when thinking about my mission.
I knelt down and prayed to my Heavenly Father. I told Him about my pain and my efforts to be healed and comforted. I asked if He would take away the bitterness I felt. After my prayer, the Lord opened my eyes to see my mission from His perspective. Both my service and early return were a part of the Lord’s plan to help make me into who He wanted me to be. I could see the miracles that He had provided since I came home. It has been a hard path, but now I can look back on my early return home with peace, knowing that God has my best interests at heart.

One night early in Paxton’s life, we were in the neonatal intensive care unit of the wonderful Primary Children’s Medical Center in Salt Lake City, Utah, marveling at the dedicated, undivided attention given by the doctors, nurses, and caregivers. I asked my daughter how we would ever pay for this and ventured a guess at what the cost would be. A doctor standing nearby suggested that I was “way low” and that little Paxton’s care would cost substantially more than I had estimated. We learned that much of the expense for care given in this hospital is covered by the generous gifts of time and monetary contributions of others. His words humbled me as I thought of the worth of this tiny little soul to those who were so carefully watching over him.
I was reminded of a familiar missionary scripture that took on new meaning: “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God.”7
I wept as I pondered the limitless love our Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, have for each one of us, while learning in a powerful way what the worth of a soul is, both physically and spiritually, to God.

Brother Lind shared his testimony of the power that comes with being about the Lord’s business. He recalled for them the time he was flying into Hill Air Force Base in Utah in order to fulfill a speaking assignment. A raging snowstorm had lowered visibility to zero and made it apparently necessary to divert to the Salt Lake Airport. That, however, would make it impossible to fulfill his assignment. He decided to make one approach before giving up. “I said, ‘Heavenly Father, I’m on your business, and I need your help.’ As I started in north of the Ogden airport, the sky was just like a great gray theatrical curtain, a solid gray wall. The control tower was calling out instructions. The RVR (runway visibility range) had to get up to 1,600 feet or I could not land, and the controller said, ‘You’re at four miles and your RVR is 300 feet. You’re at two miles and your RVR is 200 feet. You’re at one mile and your RVR is 100 feet’—then all at once he said, ‘4,800 feet?’ Just as I got to the critical point it was as if they had opened the curtain, and there was a long crack right down through the center of the snow squall, and there was the runway right underneath it, and I thought of Moses parting the Red Sea. There it was! I dropped onto the runway, and the storm closed over again. The snow was so deep I could hardly taxi in, and nobody landed at Hill Field for the next three and a half hours. Talk about an answer to prayer! I had a church assignment. I had to get there. The Lord literally opened up the snowstorm.”

Webster, the Canada goose gosling, wobbles out of his down-lined nest and peers over the edge of the cliff. Two hundred feet below flow the waters of the Missouri River. Webster’s father, the gander, making short, circling flights above the cliff, calls and coaxes, urging his family to leave the cliff and join him.
On the cliff ledge, Webster is joined by his three sisters. Mother lifts off on her strong wings and calls to her babies, come, come, come.
Webster flaps his tiny featherless wings and hurls himself after the goose. Can he fly? No, indeed. Instead he falls down, down, down and lands ker-plunk on a rock pile at the base of the cliff.
One by one his sisters follow. The rocks below are jagged and sharp. It’s a miracle that they are not injured. Webster stands up, shakes himself, and the four goslings tumble and scramble down the rock pile to the waiting goose and gander.
Away they go toward the river—the goose, the four goslings, and the gander, making their own little parade.
But there’s another hazard ahead. Between the river and the cliff is a railroad track. And, while a person like you or me could step right over the tracks, the steel rails make a high fence to block the way of short-legged Webster and his sisters. The only way for the goose and gander to get their babies across is to lead them down the tracks to a crossing.
Look out, Webster! Danger may be lurking. Out in the open in broad daylight, the geese are in full view of any furred or feathered predator. If there’s a hungry fox nearby he may try to nab a gosling dinner. Actually, any fox would be foolish to tangle with the adult geese, because nesting Canada geese are short-tempered and strong enough to knock a horseman from his saddle and break his arm. A fox wouldn’t stand a chance against an angry goose and gander.
Soon the little parade comes to a railroad bridge. This solves the problem of getting across the tracks. Webster and his sisters follow the goose down the steep slope and, for the first time, enter the water. Instinct tells them exactly what to do and in a few seconds they are across the narrow stream and on their way to the main channel of the river just ahead.
The goose family is headed for a tree-covered island in the middle of the river. The island will provide food and a sheltered place for the young goslings to grow up.
Webster jumps in and paddles with all his might against the powerful river current. Bounced and battered by the rolling waters, at times he cannot see either his parents or his sisters. He swims and swims. The river is carrying him far downstream.
Finally he is out of the current and into calmer waters. With his last ounce of strength he wades up onto the levee and sinks to the sand in a tuckered heap.
Far upstream he can hear the come, come, come call of the goose and gander. He struggles to his feet and starts out to rejoin his family. The way is rocky and uncomfortable. He slips and falls, bruising himself as he goes. Although Webster is only one day old and appears to be all softness and fluff, in reality he is wiry and tough. He moves on.
Along the way he meets his sisters, also headed toward the come, come, come call. Soon they are greeted by the goose and gander. The parents flap their wings excitedly to welcome the goslings to the sheltering willows and quiet backwaters of their island home.

Jennetta Richards had traveled across the Atlantic Ocean and half the North American continent to join the Saints in Nauvoo, Illinois. She also suffered for years with “general debility”—an undiagnosed chronic illness. In the Winter of 1844, the Nauvoo Temple was far from being complete. But the Prophet Joseph Smith had gathered a group of men and women together to perform the sacred temple ceremonies in locations such as the Red Brick Store. Included as part of these temple ceremonies was a unified prayer in which participants combined their faith in behalf of themselves and others. The journals of the Saints who attended these temple meetings are guarded and reverent when it comes to the sacred temple ceremonies in which they participated but regularly note the people for whom they prayed—often children who were critically ill. On February 10, 1844, Jennetta was suffering a great deal. Joseph held a prayer meeting for endowed members in the evening, and those who attended “prayed for Sister Richards and others.”

A year and a half after being prayed for in the 1844 temple meeting, Jennetta Richards passed away. Notwithstanding her faith, and the united faith of her family and their temple community, just after 10:00 a.m. on July 9, 1845, Jennetta stopped breathing. The scriptures explain that even where there is faith to be healed, the healing comes only if the person “is not appointed unto death” (Doctrine and Covenants 42:48). Like Joseph Smith, who was murdered in the summer of 1844, Jennetta did not live to see the temple completed. She did, however, help lay the foundation of temple worship in the Restoration. And part of that foundation was her example of seeking healing from the Lord through a prayer offered by others—a prayer offered in the same manner we experience in temples today.

Despite achieving success in growing their congregation while waiting on the Church to be officially recognized in Ghana, problems within the leadership threatened the church because Mensah continued to teach protestant doctrine while Johnson did not. Johnson, wanting to teach the gospel as taught by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, found most of their church members agreed with him.
Seeing the leadership begin to sway towards Johnson, Mensah demanded he should leave and “never come to the church again.”4 When Johnson left, most of the congregation followed him and Mensah joined with a Pentecostal group. They temporarily reunited to keep the converts together and in 1969 Johnson left to establish his own congregation of converts in Cape Coast.

On one occasion my wife expected to be away for the weekend and asked one of the sisters in our ward to teach her Relief Society lesson. The week following the session, that sister came to our home and returned the instruction manual. She also brought to my wife a freshly baked loaf of bread and a handwritten note that read, “I love you. You are a special person. Thank you for thinking of me.” She was grateful to have been asked to serve. She was full of the love of Christ.

Some time ago I read the following Associated Press dispatch in the newspaper. An elderly man had shared, from early manhood, a one-room cabin near Canisteo, New York, with his brother. At the funeral for his brother, he disclosed that following a quarrel in their young manhood, they had divided the room in half with a chalk line, and neither had crossed the line or spoken a word to the other since that day—62 years before. What a powerful and destructive hidden wedge.

From Bree-Ell Rangi, Alfriston Ward, Auckland Manurewa Stake
Throughout my life, in Primary and in my youth, I have always cherished the Christmas memories of quality time with my family and extended family. One memory I cherish most is when my grandmother gave each of my siblings and me a present. She had wrapped the present so perfectly, and when I opened it, I was surprised to see a book. It was not just any ordinary book, but The Book of Mormon. At the time I didn’t fully understand the significance of this gift. It was only later, as I grew older, that I came to know the sweetness this gift holds. This memory of my grandmother has never faded. Even at a young age, she implemented the gospel into my life. Her example and the love she had for the Saviour has strengthened my faith and my testimony.