Gospel Story Finder

During a visiting teaching visit, Martha, a member of our ward, told my wife and her companion never to come back again. She had decided to stop coming to church. One of the visiting teachers asked Martha if they could sing a hymn together this one last time, and she agreed. As they sang, something special happened. Little by little, the Spirit began to fill the room. Each of them felt it. Martha’s heart began to soften. With her eyes filled with tears, she expressed to her visiting teachers the feelings of her heart. At that moment, she realized that she knew that the gospel was true. She now thanked her visiting teachers and expressed a desire for them to return. From that day forward, she received them with joy.

Martha began to attend church with her young daughter. For years they attended regularly, with Martha never losing hope that her husband might eventually choose to join them. At last the day came when the Lord touched his heart, and he began to attend with them, as did their other daughter soon thereafter. This family began to feel the true joy that comes from having gospel blessings in their home. Martha has since served faithfully as our ward Relief Society president, and her husband has served well in several callings within the stake. All this began with the singing of a hymn, a small and simple thing that touched Martha’s heart.

Before I address some of these, let me share an experience that has profoundly and increasingly influenced me as I have grown older. Some of the most important lessons in life are not fully appreciated until a long time has elapsed. This personal experience was one of them.

While serving as a young missionary in Scotland, I was visiting with my mission president, Bernard P. Brockbank, who later became a general authority. Like almost all mission presidents, he had a tremendous, positive influence and impact on his missionaries. I tried always to listen carefully to his counsel and teaching, even when I did not understand or appreciate fully what he was trying to share and why.

I was serving as a District Leader and had come to discuss with the president one of the missionaries for whom I had responsibility and a particular problem this elder faced. I wanted to be more helpful to my associate than I had been and the president made some practical and positive suggestions. He then grew pensive and looked at the "board" on his office wall where all of the missionaries in the mission had their pictures posted and segregated into companionships, districts, and zones. I'll never forget that President Brockbank, without identifying any specific individual, said sadly that some of the missionaries whose pictures we could see on his wall would be lost to Church activity in the years ahead.

I don't remember if I said anything. I hope I didn't, but I do remember being absolutely sure at the time that he was wrong. I knew virtually all of these missionaries at least a little and could not conceive of a single one, even those with problems or special challenges, who would not remain true and faithful. Over the years, sadly, there have not been many, but there have been a few who did not remain faithful to their covenants, enough to demonstrate that the president's prophecy was true. Happily, some have put their lives back in order but others have yet to do so.

As I have reflected on my experience with my mission president and observed firsthand the truth of his sad predictions, I have recently understood more clearly that his observation of the missionary board that day may have been meant as a direct warning to me and not just a casual lament about others as I had assumed at the time.

by Elder Greg NelsonRussia St. Petersburg Mission
It was Christmas Eve around the world, but just another frosty December night in St. Petersburg, Russia. This country celebrated no such holiday.
Our zone had just presented a Christmas program in the huge Kazanski Cathedral, where we sang Christmas songs and read from the book of Luke. It seemed as if our words and notes drifted up to the lofty ceiling and were swallowed by the darkness. But the sparse audience, mostly members and investigators, had partaken of the Spirit.
Our missionary work hadn’t been going well. People didn’t want to listen to two humble young men give them a message of redeeming love. Perhaps because of my discouragement, the Christmas celebration planned for later that evening didn’t hold much appeal for me.
My boots kicked up some new fallen snow and I shoved my bare hands deeper into my pockets. My gloves had been misplaced at a hotel a few days earlier. In this country, you don’t just walk into a store and buy gloves. You need to search.
Suddenly, Elder Redd sat down on a bench in the small park in front of the cathedral. I thought, Oh, now what? I just want to go home where it’s warmer.
Home was not the right thing to think about. It brought a flood of memories I really didn’t want to ponder right then. This was my first Christmas away, and I was feeling down. Where were all the decorations and the hustle and bustle of the holiday season? What about stockings, Christmas trees, and nativity scenes?
We hadn’t been able to get through to the international operator, so it looked as if I couldn’t make my phone call home either.
Tears welled in my eyes. I turned around so my back was to the wind. As I faced the cathedral, everything began to grow quiet. I looked at the majestic structure in front of me, bathed in pale, green light. The stars above were pin dots on a black shade, radiating calmness and peace.
“Silent night, holy night; all is calm, all is bright. …” The phrases softly entered my mind and drifted in whispers from my lips. “Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace.” Elder Redd heard me and joined in a little bit louder. There was a feeling of reverence.
As we sang the second and third verses, a warm realization came to me. The joy, happiness, and peace at Christmas come from within. The material things and outward symbols of celebration bring sweet feelings, but only for a short moment.
Instantly, the thought of sharing Christmas with the other elders became appealing. It would be a gathering of friendship and love. We missionaries all needed to strengthen each other.
Christmas is what you make of it. It doesn’t matter if you’re with family and friends or halfway around the world. The real gifts at Christmastime are the fruits of the Spirit. Paul said, “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith” (Gal. 5:22). Could one ask for anything more during the celebration of Christ’s birth?

Two years ago my wife and I visited some of these sites. Two experiences come to mind that have relevance to this search for balance. In Jackson County we sat on the lawn within the boundaries of the future Jackson County temple. It was sunset. We were alone. We talked of history. We talked of prophecies of the future. But we remember most the sweet, peaceful, spiritual witness that Jesus Christ stands at the head of this Church and that Joseph Smith is what he claimed to be, a prophet of God. No amount of historical research alone can bring to pass that spiritual witness. It comes only when we become attuned and learn to recognize spiritual things. However, the spiritual witness was intensified by our knowledge of what has happened and what will happen there. That evening we found the elusive balance.

When our son Eli was in fourth grade, his class set up a mock government where he was elected by his peers to serve as class judge. One day a sitting judge from the Utah 2nd District Court visited, put his official robes on Eli, and then administered an oath of office for their class. This ignited in Eli’s young, impressionable soul a passion for studying law and the Lawgiver Himself, Jesus Christ.
After years of diligent effort, Eli received an invitation for an interview with one of his top choices for law school. He pronounced, “… The final question was, ‘Where do you derive your moral compass?’ … I stated if all of humanity abided by the teachings of Jesus Christ in the Sermon on the Mount, the world would be a better, more peaceful place.” Then the interview ended, and he thought to himself, “There go my childhood dreams. No one in secular academia wants to hear about Jesus Christ.”
Two weeks later, Eli was admitted with a scholarship. Before committing, we visited the campus. … Remarkably, as we walked through the magnificent library and stately corridors, we found on banners and carved in stone attributes from the Sermon on the Mount.
The Sermon on the Mount is decisively the most noteworthy discourse ever delivered, pioneering in its teachings. No other sermon can help us better understand the character of Jesus Christ, His divine attributes, and our ultimate purpose to become like Him. …
We need to infuse the Light of Jesus Christ into every corner of our lives. …

Every Saturday Dad takes one of us kids—Courtney, Megan, Zara, or me—out for breakfast.
Sometimes we eat at a restaurant, and sometimes we buy milk, juice, and doughnuts and eat in the park.
I really like eating breakfast alone with Dad. The food’s always good, but even better is getting to talk to Dad and have fun with him, just me, with no interruptions. Some Saturdays we don’t get home from breakfast until lunchtime. Then Mom laughs and asks us, “Does it take you three hours to eat breakfast?” and Dad hugs me, winks, and says, “Oh, Paul and I had a lot to talk about. With all the women around here we don’t get much chance for man-to-man conversation.”
Dad and I have never missed having breakfast together when it’s been my turn. Even when he was sick with a cold one Saturday, we still ate together. Mom helped me fix up a tray, and I took it to his room, and we sat on the big bed and ate and talked and laughed.
Then one day Grandma fell and broke her arm, and Dad went to Olmsted for a while to help her.
“When will you be back?” I asked on Monday morning as he got ready to go. I was a little worried, because the next Saturday was my turn to have breakfast with him, and I didn’t want to miss it.
Dad must have known what I was thinking, because he mussed up my hair and said, “I’ll try my best to be back by Saturday, Paul. But”—Dad hesitated and looked at me seriously—“I’m not sure how things will work out with Grandma, and I don’t want to leave until she’s OK.”
“I understand,” I said. I knew that Grandma was important to Dad too.
During the week Dad phoned several times, and I talked to him, but he still wasn’t certain when he’d be back.
Friday night when I went to bed, I thought, When I wake up in the morning, Dad will be here! And then I started wondering where we’d eat. But Saturday morning when I got up, Dad wasn’t home.
“Dad called late last night,” Mom told me. “He expects to be home sometime today, but he’s not sure when. Have some cereal.”
I ate the cereal, but it wasn’t very good. I felt angry. I had a lot to tell Dad, even more than usual because he’d been away all week. Then I felt guilty, because Grandma needed him too.
I kept looking out the window for Dad. It got later and later, and we ate lunch and then dinner. Finally Mom said, “It’s time for bed, Paul.”
I got my pajamas on but didn’t get into bed. I thought that the longer I stayed awake, the better the chance I’d have of getting to see Dad when he got home. I was yawning and struggling to keep my eyes open when I heard the car horn honk. Then Dad yelled, “Paul!”
“Dad!” I ran down the stairs and hugged him.
“Why, what are you doing in your pajamas? Run and get dressed. We’re supposed to have breakfast together!”
“But it’s late! How can we eat breakfast at night?”
Dad laughed. “Oh, I know a special place. Hurry! Mom doesn’t want you to be up until midnight.”
I ran upstairs and got my clothes on as fast as I could. It wasn’t until Dad and I were in the car and going down the road that I remembered to ask about Grandma.
“Oh, she’s doing really well,” Dad said. “And she’s just as energetic as ever. Except instead of doing all the housework herself, she sat and watched while I did it!”
We both laughed. Dad stopped in front of a restaurant and asked, “How do pancakes sound?”
“Mmmm, good!”
It felt strange to be eating pancakes late at night, but I was so happy to be with Dad that I didn’t mind. We talked and told jokes and laughed and made funny faces, and it was the best breakfast Dad and I ever had.

In the Jerusalem Center we employed both Israeli and Palestinian workers. They worked side by side—respectfully, for the most part; hopefully; and with responsibility. That microcosm of Holy Land society leads me to believe—to hope—that there is a solution to the anger between the two peoples. As I discussed such things with my friends on both sides of the issues, I was amazed to discover that everyone—really everyone whom I knew—wanted peace. They wanted the leaders to work out solutions. They didn’t hate each other. They knew there was some way to live together to the mutual benefit of both sides without encroaching on each other’s beliefs.

I watched Abdullah, a Palestinian worker, stand respectfully at attention on the balcony of the Jerusalem Center as the siren sounded for Prime Minister Rabin’s funeral after he was assassinated. I saw our Israeli security chief hire Palestinian workers to help guard the center, and on one occasion when fire broke out because children were playing with matches under some nearby brush, my Israeli friend watched one of our fine Palestinian workers wade into that fire with our fire hose, remarking to me, “When I’m in trouble, I want Ali to be right there. Ali is a brave man.”

Jimmie has stuck with Highland dancing even though it took a back seat to soccer for a while. Now he’s working on qualifying as a dance instructor. He could have qualified four years ago, but changing teachers twice slowed him down. Of course, he has learned a wide variety of styles by having three different teachers.
Jimmie still competes with his band, which has won most of the competitions around, but he has given up dance competitions for a while. “My main aim is to become a qualified dancing teacher,” he says.

One of my beloved uncles went on a mission in 1912–14 to an enlightened nation in Europe. He found great satisfaction and fulfillment in being part of the great missionary activity and in his involvement with the Saints. After his mission he remained very loyal to the Church but became somewhat inactive because he had a Word of Wisdom problem. My brothers and I used to thrill in hearing him tell about his mission. He would tell us by the hour about his mission president, his companions, the Saints, the country, and its culture. His mission was, in many ways, the highwater mark of his life. He was thrilled when we went on our missions. He treasured missionary experience; it became the destination of his life rather than a journey.

Several years ago I was on a consulting assignment to provide three weeks of professional engineering training in London. I was traveling with carry-ons, two large suitcases, and several boxes of workshop materials. As I was making arrangements to get on London’s underground transportation that would take me from the airport to my hotel, I heard a message that unattended luggage would be seized and individuals detained for questioning. I knew that I could not get off the train without leaving pieces of my luggage unattended. I began to pray and ask the Lord for help. Not long before my stop, I was amazed to see two young men dressed in suits with our Church’s missionary name tags get on the large train with its several passenger cars and sit down next to me! I was further amazed to discover that they were getting off at my stop! As you can imagine, I offered a silent prayer of gratitude. My anxiety in this situation may seem trivial compared to the anxiety and stress that we live in today, but it was a testimony of the Lord’s awareness of my plight and His willingness to help. I am certain that He is anxious to help each of us in our “peaceable walk with the children of men.”

In an elders quorum presidency, we worked with several less-active families. In a personal interview with one couple, I asked, “Isn’t it about time you went to the temple with your family?” I couldn’t believe their answer—they said, “Yes.” We cried. They were asked to speak of their “conversion” in a Saturday evening session of stake conference, and as they expressed their love, I cried. I thought I was all cried out by the time we went to the temple—until I saw them with their beautiful daughters kneeling at the altar, being sealed for time and all eternity.

“When will Uncle Cory be here?” Michael asked his mother for at least the tenth time.
Earlier that afternoon the mailman had delivered a letter addressed to him, but when he opened it he couldn’t read what it said. Michael’s mother told him that the letter was written in Italian, and all she could read was the closing and signature at the bottom:
Arrivederci,Mario
Michael knew that arrivederci meant till we meet again, because that was how Uncle Cory’s letters were always signed when he was in Italy on a mission. Michael had called his uncle and told him about the letter. Now he was waiting impatiently for him to come and interpret what the letter said.
A few months before Uncle Cory had returned from Italy, he had written and asked Michael and his family to write their feelings about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in letters to individual members of a certain Italian family and send them back to him. He said he would put the letters in a Book of Mormon and give them to the family.
Michael had written—
Dear Mario,
I am eight years old. I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints last month. My father baptized me and confirmed me and said that I now have the Holy Ghost to guide me and to help me choose right from wrong. I go to Primary each week. I’m in the CTR class. CTR means CHOOSE THE RIGHT. Last week my Primary teacher taught us about Jesus healing sick children. Jesus loves children everywhere. He loves me and He loves you. I, hope you can soon go to Primary, too.
Your friend, Michael
Michael hadn’t expected to receive a letter in return, but now that one had come, he could hardly wait to know what it said.
Soon he heard the sound of a car in the driveway. Running to the window, he looked out and saw Uncle Cory coming up the walk. Michael ran and opened the door and gave his uncle a big hug.
Michael listened quietly as Uncle Cory read the letter.
Dear Michael,
I am nine years old. Today I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My father and mother were baptized too. Thank you for telling me about your Church. My father and mother read your Book of Mormon, and now we are all happy to be members of the true Church. Write to me again soon.
Arrivederci, Mario
Michael was so excited to know that he had helped bring the gospel to someone that he thought his heart would pound right out of his chest. He took the letter from his uncle and looked at it for a long time. Then he folded the letter neatly. “I will save this,” he said, “to remind me that it’s fun to tell others about our church. Maybe some day I’ll go on a mission to Italy and meet my new friend Mario.”

I am a convert to the Church. My conversion began in a bakery where I noticed a young man who seemed to stand out from those around him. I was curious to know what made him different, and I asked him what church he belonged to. As he responded to my question, his missionary companion joined us. When I asked them how I could know more about their church, they scheduled an appointment to visit with me in my apartment.
On the day of their visit, I sensed a calmness and serenity about the two young men, Elder Eric Dorr Hansen and Elder Paulo Alves da Silva. Through the promptings of the Holy Ghost, I felt their message was inspired and true, and I accepted it.
The Holy Ghost recently helped me to reach out to a sister who was experiencing a difficult phase in her life. I shared with her the talk given by President Elaine L. Jack, Relief Society general president, at the September 1990 General Women’s Meeting. (See “These Things Are Manifested unto Us Plainly,” Ensign, November 1990, page 88.) In her talk, President Jack referred to the story of the Savior offering the woman at the well the waters of “everlasting life.” (See John 4:14.)
How grateful I am for the Holy Ghost. That divine link with Deity has not only helped me personally, but it has also helped me bring courage and comfort to someone in need.

“During our annual planning meeting at the beginning of the year, we planned several service projects in our quorums and classes. One was when my quorum helped a family in our ward trim the large tree in their backyard.
“It was pretty awesome! We worked on the tree with chainsaws and branch cutters. With all of us working together, we finished in no time at all. It was also really fun because we got to use power tools. We’d just been looking for an opportunity to serve as a quorum when we heard of this family’s need. At the end, our quorum and the family were very happy!”
Andrew S., 14, Arizona, USA

A recent convert from Canberra, Australia, says the following: “I was born into a religious family where religion was taken seriously. I had a strict Christian upbringing. However, I drifted away from the church at about twenty years of age when I left home to attend teachers college.
“From that time on I felt an emptiness of purpose in some way, and each year or so would find me searching out and studying a new spiritual creed. I studied yoga and practiced meditation, read about Hinduism, Buddhism, Zen Buddhism, and most of the Protestant religions and Judaism. Somehow none of these held out anything I was seeking. Then I stopped searching, and when the elders came calling, I had mixed feelings about letting them in. I did not want yet another fruitless search, but I thought it only reasonable to hear the message and then decide. For a few lessons I was not convinced that there was anything different in the lessons from what I had already heard elsewhere. Then slowly, through the patience of the elders, I began to get the feeling that all they were saying was really true. They urged me to pray frequently, which I did; but still I was not sure. They explained how the Holy Ghost could come into one’s heart, and one could perhaps feel a warm glow inside. This was rather hard for me to imagine, but I believed them.
“One night the elders challenged me to take baptism the very next Saturday. I was surprised and felt I wasn’t ready, but I did agree to be baptized a week later, giving myself more time for questions and prayer. Then Elder Hurd asked Elder Nelson if he would bear his testimony to me. He did it so fervently that about halfway through I felt a warm spot in my heart which seemed to be coming from Elder Nelson; and as he spoke, it increased in size and intensity like a small cloud inside of me.
“When he had finished, both elders assured me that they had felt the presence of the Holy Ghost, but I didn’t tell them of my experience until a few days later. I felt too overcome to speak of it. Before they left they asked me to read Third Nephi, chapters 11 to 26, in the Book of Mormon before going to bed that night. As soon as they went out the door, I read avidly, and as I did, the warm glow returned to me and I needed no more convincing.”

There are some who have difficulty forgiving themselves and who dwell on all of their perceived shortcomings. I quite like the account of a religious leader who went to the side of a woman who lay dying, attempting to comfort her—but to no avail. “I am lost,” she said. “I’ve ruined my life and every life around me. There is no hope for me.”

The man noticed a framed picture of a lovely girl on the dresser. “Who is this?” he asked.

The woman brightened. “She is my daughter, the one beautiful thing in my life.”

“And would you help her if she were in trouble or had made a mistake? Would you forgive her? Would you still love her?”

“Of course I would!” cried the woman. “I would do anything for her. Why do you ask such a question?”

“Because I want you to know,” said the man, “that figuratively speaking, Heavenly Father has a picture of you on His dresser. He loves you and will help you. Call upon Him.”

A hidden wedge to her happiness had been removed.

For Example
In the early days of the Church, an elder found himself with the responsibility of giving a sermon to a large group of people gathered to hear a “Mormon” preacher. The situation wouldn’t have been that bad, but as Brigham Young explained, “[The elder] had never been able to say he knew that Joseph Smith was a Prophet.” The elder wanted to just say a prayer and conclude the meeting. But the building was so full, people were hanging through the open windows from outside to listen. There was no graceful way out for the elder except to speak.
He braved his way to the podium, and “as soon as he got ‘Joseph’ out, ‘is a Prophet’ was the next; and from that, his tongue was loosened, and he continued talking until near sundown,” Brigham Young reported. “The Lord pours out his Spirit upon a man when he testifies that which the Lord gives him to testify of” (Joseph Fielding McConkie, Seeking the Spirit, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1978, pp. 4–5).

When one of our sons was very young, beginning before he turned one year old, he became very fascinated with the sacrament. At church, he would raise himself up and look around for anything that had to do with the Sacrament. He watched the deacons as they walked with the Sacrament trays throughout the chapel. He would watch carefully as the trays were passed to the rows before and behind him. As the tray came down our row, his eyes followed it throughout. Then he would partake of the Sacrament and watch at the tray moved on. This happened week after week.

Then one Sunday, we brought candy to church. He ate the candy during the meeting. When the Sacrament came he lost total interest in it. All he paid attention to was that candy. Can something like candy happen to us?

I waited until I was 16 thinking that all the guys would ask me out. After a while of waiting, I started working on developing my gifts and talents and being a friend to others. When I stopped feeling depressed about the life I didn’t have, that was when I began to get asked out on dates. The people worth dating are the ones that look for personalities and abilities, not looks and popularity.
Krissy Coltrin, 16Idaho Falls, Idaho

All the years I was in Primary, I dreamed of receiving the priesthood. But by the time I was about to turn 12, I had become a bit anxious about it. I wasn’t nervous about priesthood service; what seemed challenging was setting an example.
As time went on, I especially felt a responsibility to be an example for my younger brother. When my brother was preparing to receive the Aaronic Priesthood, I had a hard time accepting the fact that I had to set an example for him. Why didn’t I have an older brother who could be an example for me? Then it dawned on me. I do have an Older Brother who is a perfect example—Jesus Christ. I could follow His example!
When I turned 16, I was ordained a priest. Then my brother turned 12, and I was asked to ordain him a deacon. I was nervous, especially about giving him a blessing as part of the ordination. But the words came to me, and I knew exactly what to say: “I bless you to be able to follow the example of your Older Brother, Jesus Christ.”
Yves P., Cergy, France