Gospel Story Finder

“There’s a Turkish family that I always see at the interfaith dinners, and they run up to me and say, ‘We’re so happy to see you again!’” Romy says. “In a world where there’s so much persecution of religion and faith, it’s nice that we can all come together and just talk to each other.” During one of the service projects, “the ladies at another church were so sweet,” she says. “They didn’t care about anyone’s religion. They were just there to offer their help. It was refreshing.”

Amber is quick to point out that her accomplishments are the result of blessings in her life. “I know that Heavenly Father is responsible for my successes,” she says. “I couldn’t get by without His help.”
Still there are times when Amber gets discouraged. It’s then that she reflects upon her blessings to restore her positive attitude. “I just think about what Heavenly Father has done for me, how much my family loves me, how much my friends help me. And I read my patriarchal blessing, and that lifts my spirit,” she says.

Dieter F. Uchtdorf
(71) A former member of the Church returns to the faith thanks to friends, the Holy Ghost, and the pull of the Good Shepherd.

In March of 2003, one of my good friends, Bret, invited me to help with his Eagle Scout project. After school the next day we drove in his truck with another friend of ours, Camden, to where the project would be. Inspired by the Spirit, Bret directed Camden to a Book of Mormon situated in a holder in the passenger-side door. He told him to open to a verse he had recently read in the Book of Alma. My interest was sparked, and for the first time, I saw the book I wanted so very badly. However, I was too scared to say anything right then. Upon returning that evening, I worked up the confidence to ask Bret for the book. He happily gave it to me and told me to read it. That night I read nine chapters. From the moment I picked up the book, I fell in love with its message.

This is the life! I found myself thinking as I stood in left field in my baggy white uniform, enjoying the sunshine and the scent of freshly cut grass. Little League baseball fans filled the stands, where hot dogs and drinks were selling for a quarter.
“Think!”
I was quickly brought back into the game as my coach stepped out of the dugout and yelled to our team. Oh yeah. I’m in a baseball game. A good hitter from the opposing team was approaching the plate, and coach wanted us to be ready. We knew from last week’s baseball practice that Think! meant “Ask yourself, What would I do if the ball were hit to me?”
My 11-year-old brain went to work. Let’s see … no outs, a runner on second base. If the ball comes to me in the air, I’ll catch it, check the runner on second to see if he’ll tag up, and throw to the second baseman. If the ball is on the ground, the runner might advance, and I’ll probably throw to third.
Now I know exactly what to do. With my knees slightly bent and my eyes fixed on the batter, I was ready for anything. The pitcher wound up and threw one right over the plate. I heard a loud crack as wood met ball. A line drive was flying straight towards me! In a split second, my mental computer judged the ball’s speed and trajectory and determined it would land just a few yards from where I was standing.
If I hustle, I can catch it. As I began running, out of the corner of my eye I saw the runner take off for third base. What was he doing? Didn’t he think I could catch it on the fly? On my fourth stride, I raised my mitt and felt the ball smack my left hand. In one motion I took the ball out of my mitt and threw it as hard as I could to second base.
I did it! I got the runner out! Or did I? Unfortunately, our second baseman forgot to think. He wasn’t on his base! He was just standing there watching. The ball bounced on the dirt infield, but luckily he scooped up the ball and stepped on the bag just in time to get the runner, who forgot to tag up.
Coach leaped from the dugout and shouted loud enough for all the players and spectators to hear, “Nice job, Bytheway!” A big Boy Scout smile spread across my face as the cheering crowd recognized the little kid in left field who just made a double play. I owed it all to my coach. He reminded me to think.

One day, Wilford was feeding pumpkins to his father’s cattle in a pasture.
He noticed that one large bull was eating more than his fair share, so Wilford decided to take one of his pumpkins away.
Wilford: He ate one of that cow’s pumpkins! I’ll show him who’s boss.
The bull was so mad at Wilford that he started chasing him down the pasture hill.
Luckily, Wilford tripped and fell to the ground, and the pumpkin went flying out of his hands. The bull jumped right over Wilford and tore the pumpkin to pieces with his horns.
Wilford: If I hadn’t tripped, that would’ve been me getting torn to pieces!
Years later Wilford became the fourth President of the Church. He said he believed Heavenly Father had protected him during those childhood adventures.
President Woodruff: I ascribe my preservation on earth to the watch-care of a merciful Providence, whose hand has been stretched out to rescue me from death when I was in the presence of the most threatening dangers.

Christmas is a busy time—a time of haste. That Christmas long ago was a hurried time too for shepherds in the field. Having seen the glory in the heavens they went with haste to see the Babe as soon as the angels had told their glorious message of His birth. In the villages of Mexico, children re-enact that first Christmas. One child is Mary and another is Joseph. Together they visit the village houses, pretending the houses are posadas (inns). Everywhere the people of the inns turn the children away, but finally a friendly posada gives them shelter.

I have asked that serious question of myself: “Where would I be without the gospel?”
It was that gospel testimony that persuaded me to say no to my Navy friends when our first “liberty” came to leave boot camp training in Farragut, Idaho, in early 1944. On the train from Farragut to Spokane, Washington, the invitations were presented in a most appealing way to go with them to get a “manly” tattoo and then be off to find the real pleasures that men seek.
I was the only Mormon in that group, and, yes, I felt a little lonely as I broke off to go by myself to the USO facility and then to a movie. The following day I found church services and church friends who strengthened and reinforced a lonely Mormon boy from Provo, Utah.
To have come home from the service in World War II with virtue intact has held for me eternal rewards.

As sister missionaries, we were sharing the gospel with a woman who lived in modest circumstances at the bottom of a large hill near a small city dump on the outskirts of Asunción, Paraguay.
Soledad and her husband, Oscar, lived in one room of a long, narrow house that was actually a series of connected rooms, side by side, with very thin walls. Each room was a tiny residence with one window, one door, one table, and one bed. There were several such buildings in this area, constructed of wood, with a thatched roof and dirt floors. Clay that had been pushed into the crevices kept out some of the cold.
Soledad was the mother of three young children, and she was young herself—and overwhelmed. It was all she could do to take care of her home and the daily demands of her children. But she seemed to welcome our visits and to recognize a need for God in her life.
Soledad expressed her thoughts and feelings freely. She had fallen in love and run away from home with Oscar, even though her parents didn’t approve. Neither she nor her husband had any education or a job, and their future was bleak. She wondered if God had abandoned her and if He was punishing them for the poor choices they had made.
Oscar peddled trinkets door to door in an effort to help his family survive. When he had a successful day, he would buy food and, sometimes, small gifts for the children. But when sales were poor, he would often return home depressed, angry, and drunk.
We felt challenged to help them deal with so many temporal concerns. But we also felt urged by the Spirit to continue loving and teaching them, even though at times their progress was disappointing. After several more visits and after praying sincerely, we finally felt we needed to give them some time to consider what we had taught, study the Book of Mormon, and pray by themselves.
We explained our concerns to Soledad, and she was upset. She felt we were abandoning her family. She also told us they were expecting a fourth child and didn’t know how they would survive. In anger she told us to leave and never return.
Unknown to us, however, the neighbor next door, Juan, had been listening through the wall to what we had been teaching. He was young, curious, and painfully shy. As he had listened, he had had many questions about the plan of salvation, the Book of Mormon, and repentance. He had even been borrowing Soledad’s copy of the Book of Mormon, reading it, and praying regarding all that he had been quietly learning.
Days passed. Juan began to worry when we did not return to teach Soledad and Oscar. Then one night, as a heavy winter storm was brewing, he asked Soledad where we lived and how he could contact us. She said she didn’t know, and he began to cry. He bore his testimony to her of the truthfulness of our message and ran out into the stormy night to look for us as rain poured down, turning the streets into muddy rivers.
Hours later, tired and cold, he continued to search. He began to pray as he made his way through the darkness, promising his Father in Heaven that if He would help him find us, he would be baptized and serve Him all the days of his life. In the meantime, Soledad, impressed by Juan’s testimony, started praying that we would return. Juan came home but continued to pray and read the Book of Mormon for the next two days. Soledad also prayed earnestly and talked with Oscar. Together they began reading the Book of Mormon.
Two days after the storm, as my companion and I knelt in prayer, we felt compelled to return to the tiny little homes at the bottom of the hill. We went immediately, and when we arrived, we were greeted with happy tears and excitement by Soledad, Oscar, their children, and Juan. They told us all that had happened, and from that time on, all of them were eager to learn about the gospel. It wasn’t long before Juan was baptized, and Soledad and Oscar soon followed.
I remember wondering why we were so strongly impressed to keep teaching even when Soledad and Oscar weren’t responding well. I remember wondering why we felt such an urgency to return when we had been chased away in anger. But as I saw the joy that came into Juan’s life and then into Soledad and Oscar’s family, I knew that not only was Juan listening through thin walls but that Heavenly Father was listening to prayers from each of us in turn, prayers that came from the heart.

After translating the Book of Mormon, the Lord commanded Joseph to revise the Bible.
As he read the Bible, Joseph was inspired by the Lord to make some changes.
Joseph asked scribes to help him.
The work was delayed when the Lord commanded the Saints to move to Ohio.
After moving to Ohio, Joseph started his revisions again with Sidney Rigdon helping as scribe.
“We need to resume our work on the Bible.”
On February 16, 1832, Joseph and Sidney were revising the book of John in the New Testament.
“… they who have done good, in the resurrection of the just; and they who have done evil, in the resurrection of the unjust.”
“What does this mean?”
An incredible vision opened up to them.
They saw Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father.
They also learned that there are three kingdoms in heaven.
They were shown that those who will inherit the celestial kingdom will be resurrected first.
“These are they who are … made perfect through Jesus.”
When the vision was over, they were amazed. Sidney was tired.
“Sidney is not as used to this as I am.”
President Wilford Woodruff said that this vision “gives more light, more truth, and more principle than any revelation contained in any other book we ever read.”
Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Wilford Woodruff (2004), 120–21.

Georgie began his life as a little black egg in a crystal-clear ball of jelly and grew very, very slowly.
He was slow to grow his tail and slow to nibble at the jelly for his meals.
He was slow to grow his front legs and even slower to grow his back legs.
Everyone called him So-Slow, but he didn’t mind—at least not while he was a tadpole.
But he was sad the day he lost his tail and became a real frog, because real frogs can jump and So-Slow didn’t know how to jump. Everyone in Green Pond laughed at him.
So-Slow went to his mother. “Mother, I can’t jump,” he cried.
“Just try,” his mother croaked.
So-Slow went to his father. “Father, I can’t jump,” he sobbed.
“Well, try,” his father croaked.
“I have tried,” groaned So-Slow.
“Try harder,” advised his father.
So-Slow swam across the weedy pond. He was quite a good swimmer. “If only I could jump,” he said to himself.
After scrambling onto a shiny green lily pad, So-Slow decided he was going to jump. So he perched himself right on the edge of the leaf and pushed and pushed, but he only fell head first into the cold still water.
Shrieks of laughter came from the frogs all around. “Did you see that mighty jump!” they roared.
So-Slow climbed back onto the swaying lily pad. He smiled at the other frogs, although he felt like crying. A moment later he tried again. This time So-Slow managed to go in feet first. Again and again he kept trying to jump—climbing out and then trying again.
The other frogs soon grew tired of watching and laughing. Since So-Slow did not seem to notice them anyway, it was not much fun laughing at him.
By sundown that evening, So-Slow could make a tiny jump instead of a slither. He could tell by the noise in the water that he was doing better. His jump was more splashy.
The next morning So-Slow was up before anyone else. He had practiced jumping a long time when the first frog appeared. Now So-Slow could spring from one green lily pad right over a little water and onto another lily pad.
“Pooh!” said the other frogs. “All that practice and you still can’t jump as far as we can!”
So-Slow said nothing. I won’t stop practicing, he thought, until I can jump right over the pond. No one else can do that.
His mother and father watched So-Slow every day. They were very proud of him because he was trying so hard.
One wet day when raindrops were spattering spotted patterns onto the pond, a loud voice was heard above the rain. It was Jamie the Jumper. “The cat,” Jamie shouted. “The cat’s after us. Help!”
So-Slow trembled. He was afraid of the cat, but he knew someone should do something. Should I? he wondered.
“I will,” he decided.
Climbing quickly onto the bank, he put his feet down firmly in the grass and took a deep breath. Then jump! So-Slow soared right over the pond and landed almost on the cat’s nose. The cat was so frightened that it took off over the field.
The cheering of the frogs was so loud that the noise was heard at Farmer Miller’s duck pond miles away.
After that Georgie was never called So-Slow again.
And as for the cat—it stayed on the farm with the mice!

With her husband’s encouragement—yet reluctant to leave her young sons—Ellis left for the East. She arrived in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, at three-thirty in the morning and slept on a bench in the railroad station until daybreak. Although the next few months of the valiant woman’s life were filled with constant study, she grieved for her children, and she anxiously awaited letters from home.

In the spring Ellis’s husband, Bard, came to visit her. Finding his wife weak and tired, he encouraged her to come home for the summer. After being home awhile, Ellis found that financial problems, the anguish of leaving her children again and the discovery that she was pregnant made it difficult for her to even think about returning to school. Yet her strong convictions that she should serve others, and her desire to help her family, overcame her reluctance, and she returned to her medical studies.

1 You’re getting ready for school. Your mom is asking you to come to breakfast, and she has taken the time to prepare your favorite meal. What do you do?
Holler, “I’m not ready yet!” and then take your time getting ready, eat breakfast late, and miss the bus so she has to drive you to school.
Eat breakfast quickly and dash out the door; she’s always doing things like that—it’s just what moms do.
Thank Mom, get ready quickly, and take time to eat with your family.

Sister Howells brought to her Primary call a wealth of experience and vision. She had served as counselor to Sister Hinckley and believed in developing cultural and artistic skills in children as well as in promoting their spiritual education. She established new creative sections in the Children’s Friend, began a weekly local radio story time and a local TV quiz show, and helped to commission the Friberg paintings of the Book of Mormon scenes. Children gave dimes to “buy a brick,” and building began on the new Primary Children’s Hospital.

Another couple faced family concerns with faith. A faithful sister wrote: “The decision to serve a mission was not hard. But my 90-year-old mother was extremely apprehensive about our leaving. She took great comfort when she heard that our families would be blessed as we serve.” A faithful brother expressed similar concerns about leaving his elderly parents, to which his father responded: “Don’t use your mother and me as an excuse not to go on a mission with your wife. You pray about it and follow the guidance of the Spirit.”

One Christmastime some years ago, we walked the paths that Jesus walked. We spent some precious hours in what is said to be the Garden of Gethsemane and tried to imagine the sufferings through which he moved in anticipation of his crucifixion and resurrection. We were near the places where he prayed, where he was taken prisoner, where he was tried and condemned.
Outside the city walls, we climbed the caliche hill, pockmarked with little caves, making the rounded end look like a skull, and we were told that this was Golgotha, the place where he was crucified. We zigzagged down the backside of the hill around to the sheer cliffside of it and entered the small window-size aperture into a rough-hewn cave in which it is said the body had lain.
Some hours we spent in the little garden outside this tomb and absorbed the gospel story of his burial and of his resurrection, which here had taken place. We read thoughtfully and prayerfully of the coming of the women to the sepulchre, the angel of the Lord rolling away the stone, and the discomfiture of the recreant keepers.
We could almost imagine we saw the two angels in shining garments who spoke to Mary, saying, “Why seek ye the living among the dead?
“He is not here, but is risen.” (Luke 24:5–6.)
The Lord had predicted, “The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again” (Luke 24:7).
We remembered the dialogue between Mary, the angels, and the Lord: “Woman, why weepest thou? She saith unto them, Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him.”
She turned and “saw Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus.
“Jesus saith unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou? She, supposing him to be the gardener, saith unto him, Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away.
“Jesus saith unto her, Mary. She turned herself, and saith unto him, Rabboni; which is to say, Master.
“Jesus saith unto her, Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father: but go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God.” (John 20:13–17.)
We then walked laboriously up the rather steep Mount of Olives, possibly the approximate path he walked, a prelude to his ascension after having spent 40 days after resurrection on the earth and having, by many infallible proofs, brought sureness to the hundreds of people who had come now to realize his resurrection was real.
And now he was on the top of the Mount of Olives and was saying to these greatly concerned and loved men, “Ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judaea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth” (Acts 1:8).
As we sat at the trunk of an ancient olive tree there and read these scriptures, we could easily imagine the Lord standing near this spot in the group of worried, loving, wondering men; and then the fog rolled in, the cloud settled down over the top of the hill, and he was gone. Then we could almost hear the angels in white apparel saying, “Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? this same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven” (Acts 1:11).
And now we consulted Paul’s writings to the Ephesians:
“Wherefore he saith, When he ascended up on high, he led captivity captive. …
“He that descended is the same also that ascended up far above all heavens, that he might fill all things.” (Eph. 4:8, 10.)

During the planning and preparation for the Mexico, Central and South America area conferences in February 1977, we were scheduled to hold meetings in La Paz, Bolivia, which is twelve thousand feet above sea level. Dr. Ernest L. Wilkinson and Dr. Russell M. Nelson advised us that President Kimball should have four to six hours’ rest to acclimate his heart and blood pressure to the high altitude. President Kimball is very tightly scheduled during area conferences, and this allows little time for rest. (In reality, the doctors accompanied the General Authorities so that we could keep up with President Kimball.)

I talked with President Tanner and President Romney to seek their assistance in getting President Kimball to rest in La Paz before the start of the area conference. They only smiled and said, “You can try.”

Detailed plans were presented to the First Presidency for area conferences in Mexico, Central and South America. I saw President Kimball make two small red check marks next to La Paz, Bolivia, where there were two meetings that he was not scheduled to attend. “What are these meetings? Why am I not attending?” he asked. There was a pause; then I replied, “That’s a rest period, President Kimball.” And he remarked, “Are you tired, Elder Hales?”

We arrived in La Paz, and the first meeting was a cultural event. He would not rest. My head ached; it felt as though it would explode in adjusting to the altitude, and we breathed oxygen to attempt to speed up our being acclimated to the twelve-thousand-foot altitude; but President Kimball took no oxygen. He greeted, embraced, and shook hands with two thousand Saints.

After the last meeting, he invited one thousand more of his beloved Lamanites, who had come down from the Altiplano, to come shake his hand. They came and embraced him and shook his hand vigorously. He wanted to show his love for the Lamanites.

Dr. Wilkinson was concerned with the President’s vigorous activity at twelve thousand feet and approached him. He asked President Kimball if it would be possible for him to stop soon. President Kimball said, “If you knew what I knew, you wouldn’t ask me that question.” President Kimball is driven by the knowledge that we are preparing for the second coming of Jesus Christ. He knows that it is his responsibility, along with those who are chosen to work with him, to take the message to all nations in their own tongue and language.

When my father was an old man, we talked about the possibility of his death. He did not have fear; he felt peace. When he spoke about death, he knew that he would be with his family again. Because of the Atonement and Resurrection, both of us had great inner security. We were always very grateful to the Lord because of the miracle of the Resurrection.

My brother and I were very close when he was in high school. We often had long talks and confided things we’d never tell anyone else. We were constantly teasing each other and playing games together. When he went on his mission, we wrote often, but it was during this time that my illness was discovered. My parents kept him informed about me and let him know of all the changes to expect in me when he got home, but I know I was still a complete shock to him when his mission ended in the spring. For a while I was afraid that our closeness had been destroyed, but now I know I was wrong. Over the summer we had some honest talks, and our love was strengthened. He is learning sign language so he will be able to better communicate with me, and our joy for teasing one another and playing games together has returned. We are also able to confide in each other again. It must be hard on him to have his playful little sister so changed, but he doesn’t show it. He just lets his love for me overflow all the more.

Among the hundreds of foreign Latter-day Saints who lived or served in the Philippines, Maxine Tate Grimm stands out as a pioneer whose efforts did much to strengthen the Church in those early years.
In 1945 Maxine Tate arrived in the Philippines as a Red Cross worker. Following the war she married E. M. “Pete” Grimm, a U.S. Army colonel and long-time resident of Manila, where they made their home. As years passed, Sister Grimm constantly encouraged Church growth in Asia. Although Pete did not join the Church until 1967, he used his means and influence to open doors for the Church not only in the Philippines but also in Indonesia and other nations of Southeast Asia.
Sister Grimm was present at almost every important occasion that led to the opening of missionary work. Her home was the center of Church activity, and most of the first 2,000 baptisms in Manila were performed in the Grimms’ swimming pool. Sister Grimm played her portable pump organ at many Church meetings and activities.
“I cannot praise her efforts too highly,” President Gordon B. Hinckley said. “She was a genuine pioneer in the work in that island nation where we have now a very substantial Church membership.”1
Until 1961 Sister Grimm and her two children carried on Church activities by themselves or with other LDS families, except when they attended conferences with members at Clark Air Force Base or at Subic Bay Naval Station. In 1961 this began to change.