Gospel Story Finder

When I was eight, my two cousins and I were sent on horseback to a nearby town to get groceries. Looking back, I am amazed how much confidence my grandmother and my aunt and uncle had in us. The morning skies were bright and clear as we left on our three horses.
In the middle of the prairie, we decided to get off our horses and play marbles. We were so interested in our game that we did not look up to see the dark clouds covering the sky. By the time we realized that a storm was coming, we didn’t even have time to get on our horses. Heavy rain and hail hit us so hard that all we could do was unsaddle the horses and take cover under the saddle blankets. Then our horses ran away.
Horseless, wet, and cold, we started walking as fast as we could toward a nearby town. It was late when we found a home and knocked on the door. The family there dried us off, fed us delicious bean burritos, and then put us to bed in a room with a dirt floor.
My cousins and I woke up in the morning to a bright sun and beautiful sky. A man knocked on the door looking for three lost boys. I will never forget what we saw on our way home—a crowd of people who had been looking for us all night. In front of them all were my loving grandmother and my uncle and aunt. They hugged us and cried, happy they had found their lost children.

I have a sweet memory of a prayer that I treasure. For one of my summer breaks from college, I accepted a job in Texas. I had to drive hundreds of miles from Idaho to Texas in my old car, a car I had affectionately named Vern. Vern was packed to the roof, and I was ready for the new adventure.
On my way out the door, I gave my dear mother a hug and she said, “Let’s say a prayer before you leave.”
We knelt and my mother began to pray. She pleaded with Heavenly Father for my safety. She prayed for my non-air-conditioned car, asking that the car would function as I needed. She asked for angels to be with me throughout the summer. She prayed and prayed and prayed.
The peace that came from that prayer gave me the courage to trust in the Lord and lean not to my own understanding. The Lord directed my path in the many decisions I made that summer.

Reach out. I am grateful for the organization of the Church because there are people in the ward or branch who are responsible to minister to each one of us. We are not alone. If you are in need, humbly reach out. Speak up and let others know a way that they can help. So many struggles are not public knowledge and not shared, so it might be hard for others to know how to help you if you don’t tell them. One example is that we had a few unexpected treatment appointments come up, and we had not yet arranged childcare. I asked a few friends to have my youngest daughter over for playdates to help ease the burden on Grandma, who was primarily caring for her. They were so kind and willing but would not have known I needed that help if I did not ask.

About halfway through my third year at college, I realized that the money I had saved to pay for rent and utilities would not be sufficient to get me through the summer. It was that time of year when I could work to pay for the next semester. I found a part-time job as a shop assistant.
All went well until my work schedule changed to include Sundays. During the job interview, I hadn’t said anything about not working on Sundays because at the time the store was closed that day. Nevertheless, the job was important to me, and I liked what I was doing. I worked with a friend, and between us we could be free on two Sundays and work the other two. This let me attend some Church meetings and attend to my calling.
However, soon I found that I could not keep up with this schedule. I actually had a feeling that I wasn’t able to fulfill my Sunday responsibilities even if I didn’t work every Sunday. I started asking myself what I could do to change this situation. After I had prayed to ask for a way to soften the heart of my supervisors, I read 1 Nephi 7. I remembered reading verse 19, where, after Nephi had prayed, the hearts of his brethren were softened. Finally, I was able to speak to my employers about not working on Sundays.
I told my superiors that I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and they asked me about what Latter-day Saints believed. When I asked them if I could have Sundays off, the response was no. They pointed out that during my first interview, I had said I was available to work any day of the week and had never mentioned any religious needs.
The months passed without any change until one Sunday I rushed out of Church meetings to hurry to work. I asked myself, “What is most important to you?” The response was immediate and impossible to miss: the Church, the gospel, service in my calling, participation with all my heart in Sunday meetings, and discipleship in word and deed.
I decided that I would ask again not to work on Sundays, but this time I would do it with a letter of resignation in my hands, in case they told me no a second time.
I had prayed, fasted, and received supportive text messages from friends.
At the moment of my interview, even though my heart was fluttering, I was calm because I knew I was doing the right thing. This time my supervisor said yes. My prayer had been answered. I tore up my resignation letter as soon as I got home.
I received many blessings from this experience, but the most immediate and tangible blessing was that I was able to keep my job and still keep the Sabbath day holy. For that I am truly grateful to the Lord.

Have you ever had a completely life-changing moment—the kind that seems to ruin everything? I have, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
One minute, my siblings and I were sitting on the living room couch, quietly waiting. The next, it felt like my whole world was crashing down.
My dad’s casual explanation of his decision to file for divorce contradicted everything I thought I knew. I thought we were a happy family. I thought daily scripture study and family prayer were supposed to keep us together.
From that point on, a lot changed. My happy childhood memories began to sour. My parents both got remarried. My siblings started choosing sides.
I wondered what had happened to my life.
It felt so unfair—why did someone else’s decision get to ruin my life?
Or did it? For a while, my parents’ divorce felt like the most important day of my life. But a talk by Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles made me rethink this.
He taught, “The most important day in the history of mankind was the day when Jesus Christ, the living Son of God, won the victory over death and sin for all of God’s children.”
Then he added that the most important day in our lives is the day when we commit to follow Jesus Christ—a day he hoped would recur “over and over again throughout our lives.”
So, yes, while my parents’ divorce did change my life, the Atonement of Jesus Christ changed the trajectory of human history. And that’s not all; I’ve learned that because of the events of Easter, Christ can change the trajectory of my life—every day.

He told us about Edward Ashton, a grandfather several generations back. Edward grew up in England, where the missionaries taught his family the gospel. His father then wanted to move the family to America, so they sailed across the Atlantic to New Orleans. A few years later they moved to Iowa. When Edward grew to be an adult, he trekked to Utah as a member of the Willie and Martin handcart companies. Like the other pioneers in that group, he endured snowstorms and near-starvation on his way to the Salt Lake Valley, but he pressed on in spite of it. Once he got to Utah, he became a missionary himself.

Well do I remember my most unique “deed” to sustain a prophet. As a medical doctor and cardiac surgeon, I had the responsibility of performing open-heart surgery on President Spencer W. Kimball in 1972, when he was Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He needed a very complex operation. But I had no experience doing such a procedure on a 77-year-old patient in heart failure. I did not recommend the operation and so informed President Kimball and the First Presidency. But, in faith, President Kimball chose to have the operation, only because it was advised by the First Presidency. That shows how he sustained his leaders! And his decision made me tremble!

Thanks to the Lord, the operation was a success. When President Kimball’s heart resumed beating, it did so with great power! At that very moment, I had a clear witness of the Spirit that this man would one day become President of the Church!

You know the outcome. Only 20 months later, President Kimball became President of the Church. And he provided bold and courageous leadership for many years.

I remember a saintly sister who once told me of her mother's experience as a young girl in Switzerland before her family immigrated to America in the late 1800's. The family had joined the church and decided to come to Utah where they could mingle with the saints and be close to the prophet. As a result of their decisions, they experienced a lot of persecution from the people who lived in their small town.

The night before their planned departure, the young daughter was walking alone up the hill to her home. As she walked by two men who were working alongside the road, she overheard one of them say, "Isn't that the Mormon girl that is leaving tomorrow? She's alone and we can easily catch her." She began to run but she could tell they were running faster and would catch her long before she could reach her home. As she ran, she poured out her heart to Heavenly Father, telling Him that she had always kept herself pure and begged that He help her escape from the men who were coming after her. The next thing she knew, she was standing alone on the front porch of her home. She didn't know how she got there, but she knew some power had done for her what she could not have done for herself. As Helaman had promised his sons, this young woman found that building on the Lord's sure foundation brought her a literal escape from the powers of the adversary. She, like Jacob's people, found that trusting in God made possible the conquering of her enemies.

I learn a lot by watching my older brother. I love video games and soccer, and, honestly, I would probably do those things all the time if it weren’t for him. He likes those things too, and a lot of the time we play them together, but he always makes time to grow and improve. I’ll never forget being invited to do drugs at school. I immediately thought of my brother and knew what he would choose; because I want to be like him, I made the right choice and said no.
Emilio, Tennessee, USA

One day while I was practicing on the piano, I was making a lot of mistakes. I got mad and started pounding on the keys. I tried playing a different song, but I kept making mistakes and got madder and madder. I was going to quit, but I remembered that my piano lesson was the next day. So I decided to say a prayer. It was a really short prayer. I said, “Please help me to be able to play this song. Help me to stop getting mad and to be good.” After my prayer, I felt a tingly feeling. I took a deep breath and let it out. I wasn’t mad anymore. I played the song and only messed up twice. At my lesson the next day, I played it without making any mistakes.Hayden Carnline, age 11Rockdale, Texas

I learned this valuable lesson in 1973 while attending what was then called the Language Training Mission at BYU Provo in preparation for my mission to France and Belgium. We were expected to memorize sixty lines of the French discussions each day, in addition to our grammar lessons. As missionaries we carried with us a little card made by our District Leader which read, Avez-vous vecu votre vision? Have you lived your vision? My vision was to leave having learned the discussions in French but the task seemed too daunting. My head ached and frustration mounted as I fell short of what I expected of myself and what was expected of me. I had the work ethic but quickly came to the realization that I could not learn those 60 lines a day on my own. Oh, I had prayed for help but had not acknowledged my dependence upon God to succeed. I recall the pleading prayers I offered at the side of my bed; on some nights my knees ached as much as my head but the prayers were answered and the task became achievable. I testify that sincere prayer coupled with hard work greatly increases our rate of learning.

I am thinking of a young man at the Missionary Training Center a year and a half ago, preparing to serve in Japan. We had arranged with the BYU ticket office for all of the missionaries to attend the final home football game. They had tickets all arranged for us in the north end zone (hopefully, we can do a little better than that this next year—that seating is great if you do not want to see anything), and we announced to the missionaries that they would all be permitted to go to the ball game the next afternoon. This young man came in to see me and asked, “President Pinegar, do I have to go to the football game tomorrow?”

I thought he was ill. I said, “Don’t you want to see this ball game?”

He said, “Oh, if you only knew how badly I want to see this game! I played college football for two years. But when I came to the MTC I made a commitment to myself and to the Lord that I would learn all eight of the missionary discussions in Japanese. If I go to that ball game tomorrow, I will not achieve my goal.”

Well, of course, permission was granted him to stay and study.

I saw him some weeks later. In fact, it was about five days before he departed for the field. He came up to me in the cafeteria and said, “President Pinegar, remember me? I am the elder who did not go to the ball game because I wanted to study the discussions. Today I pass off the eighth discussion.” He continued, “You ought to hear what happened to me the day I stayed here and did not go to the ball game. Up to that point in time I had been able to memorize twenty lines a day in Japanese; that day, the day that I sacrificed—and I felt it was a sacrifice—I memorized 120 lines. From that point on, I continued to move up and today I will pass off my eighth discussion.” His recall was approximately eighty-five percent.

Let me give you an example. About four years ago, I had such an experience. My lesson came late in the night one Saturday night from a very pure source. On that day, I was called to serve as the stake president of the Rexburg Idaho North Stake. In the morning, two stakes would come together to become three in a gathering so large it was moved to the Hart gym here on campus. I would be sustained and set apart as a stake president. As you can imagine, it was a fairly restless night. I tried to go to sleep that night, but it was useless. I got up and sat on the couch in my front room. I thought about what all this would mean.

Then came the questions. Why me? Did Heavenly Father really know what he was doing? Did he know what this was going to mean for me and my young family? I was sure I was not qualified to be a stake president; I was going to need to make some changes. Changes I wasn't sure I wanted to make. Nothing major of course, after all I was serving as a Bishop, but I could do much, much better. As a sat pondering all these changes, my then four-year-old daughter, noticing that the light was on, crawled out of bed, came into the front room, and sat on my lap. Wiping her eyes she gave me a look as if to say, "Well, I'm here, now what?"

So, I began to explain my problem to her. "Hallie, Daddy's got a problem. You see I have to talk in church tomorrow to a lot of people, and I'm not sure what to say. But I want to sound smart and maybe just a little funny. I want to say something that they are going to remember, so what should I say?"

(All good questions for a four year old at 1:00 in the morning.) She took my question seriously. She, too, pondered for a moment. She scratched her head, she thought hard, and then it came to her. She pointed at me with her little finger and said, "I know, I know, Dad. Tell them about Jesus." (Not a bad response). I didn't say anything, I just looked at her and thought, "You are one smart little girl. You must get that from me." (The whole humility thing hadn't quite set in yet.) Apparently, I wasn't convincing enough for her because she then took my face in her hands and said, "You know dad, He lived. Then He died. Then He lived again."

"That is right, sweetheart. That is right. We call that the Resurrection."

"Oh," she replied, "I didn't know that." She nestled down in my lap and went back to sleep. As she dosed off, she again offered one more reminder, "Tell them, Dad. Tell them about Jesus."

A simple reminder of the power of choices that we make and where true joy comes from. A reminder that if we want to find joy often we need to set our own concerns aside, and find our Savior.

Once you learn to spell the name of your home town, “Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysyliogogogoch,” you’d think the rest would be easy. Still, it was a major accomplishment for 13-year-old James Roberts, a member of the Reading Stake and resident of the long-named village on the island of Anglesey, North Wales, to be accepted into the Indefatigable School.
The Duke of Edinburgh is the patron of the Indefatigable School, which trains young men for leadership careers, especially within the armed forces. Although James learns all the normal school subjects there, he also has lessons in navigation, canoeing, seamanship, mountaineering, orienteering, archery, and as many other sports as he can manage.
“In our spare time we have to do our own laundry, clean the school, and prepare and serve the food,” says James. “It’s a good training for my mission.”

A true story from Ghana.
Anane grinned as he walked through the street. The smell of frying fish and the busy chatter of people filled the market. He was on his way to Uncle’s house. Mum had given Anane some money to give to Uncle.
He looked around at all the stands selling produce, foods, and other items. Then something caught his eye.
There was a food stand that had two of his very favorite treats, toffee and biscuits. He looked at the money Mum gave him. One hundred cedis is a lot, he thought. His favorite treats were only 10 cedis. Uncle probably wouldn’t even notice if some was missing.
Anane bought the treats. He popped a toffee into his mouth and kept walking to Uncle’s house.
Uncle was standing outside his house as Anane walked up.
“If it isn’t little Anane! Come on over,” said Uncle. “What can I do for you?”
“I brought you some money from Mum.” Anane handed him the money, then put his hands back in his pockets. Would Uncle notice that some of the money was missing? He watched as Uncle counted it.
“Thank you for bringing this over,” Uncle said.
Anane was glad Uncle didn’t notice the missing money. He said goodbye and started the long walk home. On the way, he finished eating his toffee and biscuits.
“How was the walk to Uncle’s?” Mum asked when Anane got home.
He shrugged. “It was good.”
“Thank you for taking that money to him for me,” said Mum.
Anane looked down at the floor. He started to feel guilty. What if his parents found out he had spent some of the money? He didn’t want to lose their trust.
The next morning, Mum asked Anane to buy some things at a nearby shop. “Come straight home after you are done at the shop, OK?”
“OK.” Anane walked through the market, but he didn’t stop to buy anything. He scrunched his eyebrows and thought, This time I’m going to do exactly what Mum asked.
As soon as he was done, he went right home. He gave Mum all the leftover money.
That Sunday, Anane went to his Primary class. “Good morning!” his teacher said. “Today we are talking about obedience. It is important for us to listen to our parents and make good choices.”
Anane thought about the money he spent on the toffee and biscuits. He felt his stomach drop. He knew he had made a wrong choice.
After church, Anane wanted to talk to his parents. His heart was racing.
“Mum, Dad? You know the money you gave me to take to Uncle?” Anane asked. “Well, I bought some treats with some of it.” He looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you for being honest,” Dad said. “I’m proud of you.”
Anane smiled. He was so happy that he told the truth. And he felt good inside after telling his parents. He was already making a better choice.

I often get too busy and forget to pause when I need help. When my mother died last October, I was sad and needed the Comforter, yet I was so busy taking care of details I failed to pause. We had asked my mother's dear friend to give the life sketch, but she needed some more information. For years I had asked my mother if she had written journals or finished a personal history. She always told me she had, but she could never remember where they were. I had given up hope of ever finding the lost records. My father was not sure they even existed.

The night after my mother's death, I was staying at my parents' home in Pocatello, Idaho, gathering some of my mother's belongings for a display at the viewing. I laid down on the couch to rest and my mind stopped spinning. I paused, and this is when a quiet thought came to my mind, "Go up and look on the shelves in the west bedroom." I followed this prompting, hopeful I would find some more treasures for the display.

I was delighted to find a jewelry box filled with wonderful trinkets. Then I continued down the bookcase where I found a large, white box. I sat down on the bed and opened this box to find volumes of my mother's personal journals written in her own hand, plus several letters and personal histories written at various times throughout her life. I also found many long-lost beautiful photos of my mother as a child, college student, young wife and mother.

I immediately felt the presence of my mother in that room. I sensed a great feeling of relief from her. She was so grateful that I had finally found the missing journals and photos that had been lost for years. I now treasure these family records. I am so grateful that I slowed down long enough to heed the promptings of the still, small voice.

A number of years ago when my daughter was about your age, she was just out of high school, she went to one semester at BYU and then she got an opportunity to go to the Soviet Union (former Soviet Union) and teach English in Russia. Now this was before e-mail and cell phones, and communications between the United States and the Soviet Union were not going to be really good. She was eighteen; we were a little bit worried that there might be moments or times when she would need to talk with a parent, and not be able to because of communication difficulties. So I decided that I would write her a series of letters and try and figure out each situation she might find herself in that maybe she would want to talk to a mother or father over. So I wrote about a dozen letters and sealed them in envelopes, and on the outside of each envelope I put the topic of the letter: When You’re Discouraged; If You’re Tempted; When You Get Homesick. Now I tried to guess as many of those as I could, and I gave them to her at the airport.
She opened a number of them in Russia; some of them were not needed, and she opened them when she got home—to see what I had said. But I have often thought about the scriptures in a very similar manner. The scriptures are our Father in Heaven’s letters; only He knows more than I did as a father what you and I would need.

Beginning in February 2022, Latter-day Saints in Poland helped refugees with transportation, food, and shelter.
RaeAnn and Sterling Jarvis—Church members in Warsaw, Poland—didn’t know what to expect when they chose to host refugees in their home. But they were willing to help in any way they could.
Soon after conflict began in Europe, a Ukrainian family of five arrived at their door at 1:00 a.m. They had traveled almost 500 miles (800 km) to find safety. The Jarvises welcomed Maryna and Serhii Bovt and their three children into their home. Over time they developed a real love and concern for the Bovt family. “When you share love, it grows,” Maryna said of the Jarvises’ example of service. “It makes us closer to each other and to the Lord.”

Like many people who pursue unusual careers, Shawn was concerned at one time with the question of whether or not his career would conflict with his feelings about the Church.
“After I had been in college three years, I wanted to rodeo for a while, and I was worried about the apparent contrast of ideals in my two worlds—the Church and the rodeo. I worried and prayed about it and spent time thinking it over. Then I realized the right answer for me was very simple. I knew the Church was true, and as long as I did the right thing and lived my religion, I couldn’t be doing wrong. I was then at peace with myself, and the Church has turned out to be one of my biggest assets on the rodeo circuit. I have been the subject of a lot of publicity because I am different. Writers casually mention that I am a Mormon cowboy and then go on to explain some of our beliefs. There are a lot of good Catholics and Methodists and other religions represented on the circuit, but their religions never seem to be mentioned.”

Brandon was hunting for treasure. He had a shovel to dig with, a net to catch things with, and a box to put the treasure in.
As Brandon walked toward the park, he saw a blue feather in a crack of the sidewalk. He picked it up. “I wonder what happened to the bird that lost this,” he said. “Did it grow a new one?” He put the feather into his box.
At the park yellow dandelions dotted the grass. Brandon picked a dozen or more and held them to his face. The petals were soft and silky. They left a yellow dust on his hands and cheeks. He put them into his box too.
Brandon found an empty snail shell under a picnic table. He rubbed it gently so that it wouldn’t crack. It was smooth on the inside and had tiny ridges on the outside. “I wonder where the snail went,” Brandon said, “and why it left its house behind.”
Brandon walked by the edge of the lake. With his shovel he dug up a rock and dipped it in the water to wash off the sand. The rock shimmered like the little minnows darting in and out of the shadows in the water. He put the rock, along with the snail shell, into his box.
An orange butterfly flew past. Brandon chased it and caught it in his net. It fluttered weakly. Brandon looked at it a minute, then let it go. He watched it fly to a bed of blue and purple flowers. “Some treasures are just for looking at,” he said.
As Brandon skipped home, a squirrel chattered at him from high up in the elm tree. Brandon laughed at the saucy animal.
“Mom,” Brandon said, bursting into the kitchen. “See all the treasures I found.” He dumped the things in his box onto the table. The rock was dark and dry now, but he could still see flecks in it. The dandelions were wilted, but Brandon remembered how bright they were in the grass. “There were other treasures, too,” he said. “Treasures I can keep in my mind.” He told his mom about the minnows, the butterfly, and the squirrel.
“God hides treasures for us everywhere,” Mom said.
“That’s right.” Brandon smiled as he added, “But He makes it easy for us to find them.”