Gospel Story Finder

I can remember the first words Cort Tyler ever said to me. He leaned over my shoulder, looked at the book I was reading before I could jerk it out of sight, and said, “Hey, you’re reading I, Robot.”
We were standing in line, waiting to get into the high school basketball tournament. Actually I was in line with my best friend, Laney. Cort was with his girlfriend, Trish, standing right behind us.
Of course, I knew who he was. He was in my stake, and sometimes I saw him playing basketball in our building. I always thought he didn’t know who I was. At that time I was suffering from an invisibility complex. I thought that no one really ever saw me, especially someone I was developing a crush on. So I was more than a little surprised when Cort spoke to me.
I turned to look at him, but ended up face to face with Trish instead. She was watching me with a look my cat gets when he’s sitting in the windowsill watching robins land on the ledge on the other side of the glass.
“I just checked it out of the library,” I said, glancing from Trish back to Cort. “I started reading it on the bus on the way home. That was my mistake. Now I can’t put it down.”
I stuffed the book into my purse, but Cort kept talking.
“I think I’ve read every one of Asimov’s science fiction books,” he said. “I can’t believe a guy could write that many, but he’s great.”
I could hardly concentrate on what Cort was saying. Trish kept her eyes on my face. There was no possibility of a smile on those lips until Cort glanced down at her at his side. She flashed her teeth and slipped an arm around his waist, hooking her thumb through his belt loop.
Cort absentmindedly hung his arm across her shoulders and kept talking to me. “I think I have about four paperbacks at home that belong to the library. I wasn’t going to return them, but I’ll take them back if you want them.”
“Sure, I’d like … ,” I tried to say, but just then the line started to move. The surge of the crowd carried us through the doors. Laney and I went to sit with the Pep Club, but I watched Cort walk through the crowd until he sat with some friends at the top of the bleachers. Trish was still glued to his side, his arm still around her shoulders, but he had his head turned away, talking to someone I couldn’t quite see.
I didn’t talk to Cort again for five months. I was in the habit of checking for him wherever I went. Sometimes I would see him across the cultural hall at stake dances, but he was always with the guys that hang around the edges making fun of some of the girls—the guys that act up until one of the chaperones plants himself in the middle of the group to interrupt the obnoxiousness that seems to feed on itself. Other than that I only saw him in the halls at school.
I wasn’t at all prepared for our second conversation.

At first, Bernard Lefrandt refused to listen to the two American missionaries who came to his home in The Hague, Netherlands, in 1950. It was an uncharacteristic response for a man whose hospitality was well-known throughout his native Indonesia. But Bernard—or Bert, as friends in several countries came to know him—believed he already had a God who had preserved his life innumerable times. Bert had been saved from the wild animals he hunted in island forests, from enemy soldiers when he was dropped behind enemy lines in World War II, and most recently from assassins’ bullets when he was blacklisted in Indonesia. Bert’s God had even spared the lives of his wife and children in a refugee camp. How, then, could he turn to a new one?
The missionaries first came to the Lefrandt’s home in the Netherlands at the end of 1950; the family had moved there in 1948. Nora, a deeply spiritual woman, felt impressed by their message of God’s goodness and a restored gospel. God’s mercy had helped Nora and her family through almost insurmountable difficulties. She accepted the Book of Mormon as well as the challenge to read it. But when Bert learned of the missionaries’ visit, he stubbornly refused to have anything to do with either the elders or the book Nora read so intently.
Nora finished the Book of Mormon on her own. At the close of another solitary lesson with the missionaries, she felt the Spirit so overwhelmingly that she wanted to be baptized. But she also wanted to wait for her husband, whom she had noticed reading the Book of Mormon when he thought she was asleep. Late at night, he would turn on the dim light and read until two or three in the morning, pretending to have slept well the next day. Nora patiently waited for him.
Bert continued to read the Book of Mormon in secret, and even started covertly listening from the next room to the missionary discussions. When he finally consented to talk to the elders in person, he became known as a “very hard” investigator, constantly demanding biblical proof of every doctrinal point and requiring a year of discussions.
Meanwhile, Nora and her daughter, Bertie, were baptized. Wanting to share her joy with those nearest her, Nora wrote to friends in New Guinea, telling them of her new Church. Only a few days later, she received a letter from them—the letters had crossed in the mail. Her friend told of a fisherman in New Guinea who had discovered a strange book in the sea, a Book of Mormon. Did the Lefrandts know anything about this book or about Joseph Smith? Surely, the book was a book of God, their friends wrote. They encouraged the Lefrandts to find out what they could about the Mormons.
It was there that Bert finally gave up his resistance to the higher truths of the gospel. One day during a discussion with the elders, Bert set his Bible on the table and rested his hand on it. “I don’t know what else to ask you,” he said. Within a year of Bert’s baptism in March 1952, he was called to be the president of The Hague Branch.

I broke my arm while I was playing at school one day. I had to have surgery and stay in the hospital for two days. After I got out of the hospital, my mom and dad told me that one of my friends from my class had died that day. I was so sad because he was one of my best friends. My dad gave me a priesthood blessing. The blessing made me feel good inside. I am thankful that we know Heavenly Father will let us see our families and friends again.
Ethan L., age 9, Nevada, USA

Twenty years ago I attended a sacrament meeting where the children responded to the theme “I Belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” These boys and girls demonstrated they were in training for service to the Lord and to others. The music was beautiful, the recitations skillfully rendered, and the spirit heaven-sent. One of my grandsons, who was 11 years old at that time, had spoken of the First Vision as he presented his part on the program. Afterward, as he came to his parents and grandparents, I said to him, “Tommy, I think you are almost ready to be a missionary.”
He replied, “Not yet. I still have a lot to learn.”
Through the years that followed, Tommy did learn, thanks to his parents and to teachers and advisers at church, who were dedicated and conscientious. When he was old enough, he was called to serve a mission. He did so in a most honorable fashion.

Just for the fun of it, the youth of the Knox Ward in Melbourne decided to show their appreciation for their parents by treating them to dinner. They organized a special evening they called, “The Fabulous Fifties and the Surging Sixties.”
A youth committee selected a menu that would fit the theme; then a large group prepared and served a three-course meal. They played music from the appropriate decades, and parents and kids alike were encouraged to dance. For the adults, it brought back fond memories. For the kids, it made new ones.

Elder Kim B. Clark, Area Seventy and president of BYU–Idaho, recently related a story about a deacons quorum whose adviser was discussing prayer with them. Unexpectedly, the deacons quorum president raised his hand and said, “I would like to ask the quorum a question. How many of you would be willing to commit to praying morning and night every day this week?” All the quorum members raised their hands except one young man, who was not confident he could follow through with the challenge. The adviser sat back and watched as the quorum members taught and testified to their peer about prayer, helping him gain the confidence to accept the challenge.

One Saturday a schoolteacher knocked on our door to talk to my father about my nephew. I found myself looking at a book he held, A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. Seeing my interest, he offered to leave the book. He also said I could attend a study group.
I spent almost the whole night scanning the book, stopping to take notes whenever I came across something new. Although I did not fully understand the doctrine, I felt no doubt about its truthfulness. I had a feeling of joy—as if I were discovering a genuine gem among thousands of imitations.
The next evening I joined five other people in a study group at the home of Mr. Kasongo. He had been doing research when he came across a book about American churches. “My heart pounded as I read the name of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” he said. After writing to the Church’s headquarters, he received some literature—including A Marvelous Work and a Wonder by Elder LeGrand Richards (1886–1983) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
For two years, our group met twice a week. When missionaries, Elder Roger L. and Sister Simonne B. Dock, arrived in March 1987, 50 people were studying together.
The Docks began teaching the missionary discussions in French in the public school. Because some people spoke only Swahili, I interpreted. I heard the missionary discussions for the first time myself while interpreting.
On 9 May 1987 I was one of 80 people baptized in a pool at an abandoned copper mine. For me, baptism was an outer confirmation of an inner conversion that had taken place years earlier. I had been waiting for this sacred ordinance so I could officially become a member of the Church.
I have received so many blessings—among them the time I spent translating for couple missionaries. They are as dedicated as if the Master Himself were physically beside them.
I thank my Heavenly Father for these rich experiences and for the opportunity my wife, Jolie Mwenze, and I have to raise our son in the Church. And particularly I thank Him for sending me the gospel—a gem beyond price.

In 1950, while the family was living in Namur, Belgium, and Charles was finishing junior high school, two Latter-day Saint missionaries from the United States knocked on their door. His mother, Gabrielle, let them in and listened. During Easter vacation of the following year, she was baptized in a little font in Brussels, but Charles missed the baptism. He was in Rome to see the Pope on a trip organized by the Catholic church.
Although Charles resisted invitations to attend the local branch, he did attend an English club taught by the missionaries, leaving before the evening’s youth activities started because he “didn’t want to be trapped.” But he was asked to take part in a branch play, and then his mother persuaded him to attend church with her on a Sunday. Soon his sister, Jacqueline, was baptized. When Charles left home to go to the university in Liège, he says, “I attended youth activities from time to time. I did some little things all the time but did not want to participate. I was very shy. I really did not want to be in front of people.”
Then missionary Elder Dewitt Paul challenged him, asking why he would not be baptized, since he was “doing everything a member does,” Elder Didier recalls.
“I said I didn’t see the necessity. I had a good life. I could attend and not have responsibilities. He said, ‘Let’s pray about the Book of Mormon, about Joseph Smith. Then if you have a testimony, I think you’ll recognize that you need to be baptized.’
“And so we prayed about it. I got up from that prayer with a testimony—an answer to my prayers. It was nothing like a light, a voice—just a reassuring influence: ‘Go ahead and do it. There is wisdom. This is my commandment.’” In November 1957, Charles was baptized in a swimming pool in Brussels by Elder Paul.

It was Sunday, and the brethren of the Constitución Ward, Guadalajara Unión México Stake, were convened in priesthood meeting. The elders were listening to a lesson by the quorum president, a gifted teacher. Among those present were a newly ordained elder and his father, who was returning to church after a long period of inactivity.
The lesson that day was on the elders quorum itself. “What is a priesthood quorum?” the president asked, and the brethren in the class gave several responses. It is like a family, they said, and the brethren in the quorum should be genuinely concerned about each other’s welfare and help one another.
As bishop of the ward, I joined the group in time to hear the end of the lesson. Raising my hand, I asked for permission to speak. “I’ve just learned this morning that Brother Noriega, one of our quorum members, has not been able to get the machinery he needs to plant his crops,” I said. “Since the rains have already begun, it is urgent that the seeds be planted right away. Brother Noriega could run the risk of not getting his crops planted, because he is elderly and doesn’t have anyone to help him.”
I suggested that on the following day, we all go help Brother Noriega get his seeds planted. Certainly all of us together could do the job, even without the needed farm machinery. Everybody became excited about this opportunity to put the day’s lesson into practice, and the quorum president made the necessary arrangements.
The next day, Brother Noriega was waiting for us with tools and seeds. He hadn’t been able to sleep, he said, knowing that the elders quorum was coming to help him. While some of the brethren cleared the ground, others broke the soil or dropped in seeds and covered them. Two of the most enthusiastic participants were the recently reactivated member and his son.
It was dark when we finished our task. Dirty and weary, we had blisters on our hands and thorns in our clothes. But we all felt great satisfaction in having served one of our brethren—and we felt that we had really learned the meaning of our lesson in priesthood meeting. Brother Noriega expressed his gratitude, saying that he felt young and strong again as he worked side by side with his brothers in the quorum. The newly reactivated man also said that taking part had given him new strength and courage.
Just as we were leaving, rain began to fall, and we all got wet. But we felt that the shower was a blessing. Heaven’s rain was just what we needed to truly complete our day of sowing.

1838 My brother Don Carlos and my cousin George A. Smith returned [from missions through Kentucky and Tennessee], having traveled fifteen hundred miles—nine hundred on foot, and the remainder by steamboat and otherwise. They visited several branches, and would have accomplished the object of their mission had it not been for the troubles at Far West.
When nearly home they were known and pursued by the mob, which compelled them to travel one hundred miles in two days and nights. The ground at the time was slippery, and a severe northwest wind was blowing in their faces; they had but little to eat and narrowly escaped freezing both nights.

Sister Franco, Second Counselor in the Primary General Presidency, talked about one of her favorite Primary teachers when she was growing up. Back then, Primary was held on Tuesday afternoon. Every week, her teacher made the class a chocolate cake! Years later, Sister Franco found out that her teacher walked instead of riding the bus so that she could save enough money to make those cakes. She was unselfish and loved her class.

In order to better understand this principle, please consider Aesop’s fable “The Hare and the Tortoise.” After being taunted repeatedly for being slow, the Tortoise challenged the Hare to a race. As the race began, the two started off together. However, the Hare ran rapidly towards the goal and, seeing that he could easily win, lay down and fell asleep a short distance in front of the finish line. The Tortoise maintained a slow but steady and consistent pace toward the finish line. When the Hare awoke from his nap, he started running as fast as he could, only to find that the Tortoise had won the race. The Tortoise is a classic illustration of steadiness and persistence. The Hare, on the other hand, is an example of a “spurter”—one who is given to short bursts of spectacular effort followed by frequent and lengthy periods of rest.

In September 1975, just after the United Nations declaration of a decade for women, a reporter was interviewing me about Latter-day Saint women. “Can you hold the priesthood?” she asked. “Do you feel Mormon women need to be liberated?” I was confused, awkward, and unsure of my answers. After she left I thought about the questions she asked and decided to find answers for myself.
Today I wish I could speak with that reporter again. I would like to tell her that I know the gospel is true and that joy comes from following a plan where women and men have unique responsibilities. Married or single, rich or poor, in the marketplace or at home, a woman finds joy by following the Lord’s commandments and bringing refinement and beauty into the world. Knowing this is true, why should we heedlessly try to follow the teachings of men?

Elena R., 13 , also felt nervous about camp but for a different reason. She was excited to accept the Fit Challenge and to share what she was doing with her friends at school, but she was worried they might make fun of her. She invited one of her friends who is not a Church member to participate in the Fit Challenge with her, and to her surprise, the friend accepted. The two finished the challenge and went to camp together.
“I just felt like this would be a really great opportunity for her to learn about the gospel,” Elena said. “I was really excited that she was reading the Book of Mormon every day. I thought Young Women camp would be a great time to learn about the Church because we’d be around girls our age who are part of the Church.”

Rebecca and Joshua’s father, Curtis, was the branch mission leader, and he had gospel discussions with Chris. “He told me he wanted his family to be happier and to be able to have the same things in common with them.”
“I wanted to share the gospel with my family, but it was tough because my family never went to church,” Chris says. “They really didn’t have time.”
But they did see Chris’s example after he was baptized.
“When the missionaries were at our house, I didn’t really pay attention,” says Chris’s stepfather, Terrance. “But as time went on, Chris was baptized, and I saw a lot of changes in him. He seemed to care more and respect everybody a lot more. So my wife and I decided to check out the Church.”
Chris was surprised by his family’s sudden interest. “When the missionaries told me they were coming to my house to teach my family, I didn’t know if my family would be OK with that,” he says. “Then the missionaries told me that my parents invited them over, and I thought that was pretty cool.”
Chris’s parents had a great experience going to church, and as they learned more, they grew closer as a family.
“When I started going to church, I really liked it,” says Chris’s mother, Anita. “I was very interested. Most people were there as a family, and I’ve learned to be more unified with my family.”
“After seeing the changes in Chris and enjoying church—everybody was friendly, everybody wanted to get to know you and all that—the whole family ended up getting baptized,” Terrance says. “Since joining the Church, we’ve realized family is forever. What you make of your family is what counts in life, and Jesus and Heavenly Father help you unite as a family forever.”
Chris understands why we all need to invite others to come unto Christ.
“It’s important because you want to help as many people as you can to be saved,” Chris says. “It’s good to bring people to God. If Rebecca and Joshua’s family hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be here right now. I know Jesus Christ put them in my life, and I’m so blessed that I’ve been brought into the gospel and that I could share it with my family.”
Sometimes inviting your family and friends to come unto Christ is as easy as being a good example for them.
“Chris invited us to church not by directly asking us, but he did more by the way his reactions were in life,” Terrance says. “He showed how much enjoyment church brought. He showed what being in church can do for you, how it can change you, make you better, and help you with what’s going on in life. Chris was our wake-up call from the Lord.”

Those who have known President Nelson throughout his life all attest to his remarkable personal qualities and tremendous intellect and spirituality. Over 40 years ago, before he became an Apostle, and while actively performing heart surgeries, he literally saved my father’s life (or as President Nelson later told me, “I gave your daddy another 15 years”). The following are several journal entries by my parents from that time in 1975. Although written many years ago, these entries give a very personal glimpse of his spiritual qualities already so apparent:
From my mother’s journal, describing her feelings during this very anxious time: “Over this period as I talked with Doctor Nelson, I gained the impression that he combined everything he did and said with the practical and spiritual intertwined and that he was a most remarkable man and servant of the Lord.” Several days following the surgery, she recorded: “Doctor Nelson is such a wonderful person first and doctor second. He’s so bright, and to me, the gospel shines from his face.”
And from my father’s journal: “I felt complete trust and confidence in Doctor Nelson, knowing that he is a choice servant of the Lord. I knew that whether I lived or died, I was in the hands of the Lord.”

When I was growing up, one of my jobs was to burn the trash. I would gather the garbage from the house. I’d put it in a big metal barrel in the backyard. Then I would light a match and drop it in the barrel.
One day it was really windy, and the match just wouldn’t stay lit. I decided to make a torch out of newspaper. I thought that way the flame would last long enough to light the trash on fire. I remembered that it wasn’t smart to play with fire, but I ignored the warning feeling. I rolled up some newspaper into a cone, lit it with a match, and dropped it into the barrel.
Whoosh! The strong wind made the newspaper burst into flames, and the trash quickly caught fire. Big flames blew past my face. Luckily most of my hair was pulled back into a ponytail. But my bangs were singed into crisp little wisps! My eyelashes were gone, and my eyebrows too. It just happened so fast!
That taught me a lesson: if you play with something dangerous, you can get hurt! Our parents and the Holy Ghost warn us to avoid dangerous things like pornography and drugs. If we choose to ignore the warnings, there are harmful consequences.
I’m grateful that my hair grew back over time. That’s like repentance. When we make wrong choices, we can choose to change. We can be forgiven because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. No matter how young or old we are, our Savior is always there to help us. We can feel peace again, just like on the day we were baptized.
Heavenly Father gave us commandments because He loves us. He wants to protect and help us. What wonderful gifts Heavenly Father and His Son Jesus Christ have given us!

It was a cold December day in 1988 in San Luis Obispo, California. Stricken with a rare disorder, I struggled with rigid muscles in my abdomen and legs. The cold aggravated my symptoms, making walking difficult and painful.
After our children left for school, I hobbled out to the mailbox to send some letters. In the box I found a damp, crumpled envelope. I glanced at the address.
To my surprise, scrawled across the front was “To Santa, From Sarah.” Sarah, our nine-year-old daughter, was a sensitive and loving child who cared deeply for those around her.
The thought occurred to me that this might be my chance to discover what she really wanted for Christmas. I opened her envelope and read: “Dear Santa, I am nine years old and all I want is this. My mother has been very sick and has not been able to walk, and I am hoping you can get her better for Christmas. That’s all I want. Love, Sarah.”
Icy raindrops blended with the tears on my cheeks. I thought my heart would break, for there was nothing I could do to give Sarah what she wanted for Christmas, and I regretted that her belief in a generous Santa would have to be shattered on Christmas morning.
As I prayed about what to do, I realized I had never prayed to be made well. I had let hopelessness seep into my soul, and despair had replaced my faith.
After a great deal of prayer, I composed a letter from Santa to be delivered to Sarah on Christmas morning. I explained that Heavenly Father has reasons for why things happen as they do and that if she would just believe in Him and keep on praying and doing what she could, things would work out for the best.
Sarah learned that Christmas in 1988 that Santa could not make her mother well but that Heavenly Father could one day, if it was His will. Our daughter quietly transferred her belief in Santa to faith in a loving Heavenly Father.
During the following years, Sarah never ceased praying that I would be made well. After more than six years, a breakthrough in medical technology placed me soundly back on my feet and eliminated my need for either a cane or a wheelchair. Sarah knelt in prayer to express her deep gratitude to Heavenly Father.
Years ago as I opened Sarah’s letter to Santa, I thought I was going to deepen her belief in a fun Christmas tradition. Instead, her selfless request taught me to have childlike faith in a kind Heavenly Father, and that lesson turned out to be my most precious gift of all.

As an example, when I applied this process to my coaching, I was amazed by the dramatic increase in performance from the athletes I worked with. One was a U.S. Olympic mogul skier who was not ranked very high.
As I worked with her, she worked hard on training her thoughts to be positive and on using positive phrases to purify her thought patterns. As her thoughts improved, so did her performance. Eventually she was selected to join the World Cup touring team.
After the prequalifying races, this athlete was in fourth place. She told me after the event that when she had gotten on the chairlift to go up for her finals run, doubt had gotten into her mind. She began to accept her doubt, thinking, “It’s OK. No one expected me to do this well. My family will still love me.”
But then she caught herself and said: “No! Today is my day! I am making it happen today!”
And guess what? She ended up skiing faster than she had ever skied before and finished tied for first place.

Her mother, Castorina, was baptized the following month, along with Eulogia’s daughter, Liduvina. Another daughter, Lina, wanted to be baptized, but her new husband opposed it.
“I believe my parents’ love and patience helped us live our lives sharing the gospel,” Lina says. Even though she was not able to be baptized at first, she served in the Church as faithfully as anyone could who was not a member. Eventually, in 1986, when her husband’s opposition had softened because of the example of his wife and children, Lina joyfully entered the waters of baptism.