Gospel Story Finder

In 1832, two years after the Church was organized, two missionaries went out into the New York area to preach the gospel. A man by the name of John Tanner, who was a very influential man in that district—community-minded and religious—heard that they were coming and that they were going to hold a meeting in the schoolhouse in his town that night. He was determined that they would not preach any false doctrine in his community, so he attended this meeting to keep them straight. Because he had been crippled for many months, he had to be wheeled to the meeting in a wheelchair, and he had his son wheel him right up in front of the pulpit so that he could look the missionaries in the face and correct them if they began to teach any false doctrine.
One of the elders told about the great apostasy and how the Church was reestablished. And then the other elder got up and told about the translation of the Book of Mormon and the doctrines taught therein and then bore his testimony.
John Tanner didn’t interrupt either one of them while they were speaking, but when they finished he said to his son, “I would like to meet those young men.” His son went up, brought the young men down, and introduced his father to them.
The father asked them if they would like to come and stay with him that night. Being good missionaries, they accepted his invitation and went home to stay with him that night. They talked about the gospel, and he asked them questions until the early hours of the morning. He became so interested in the gospel that he said, “If I were able, I think I would like to apply for baptism.”
One of the elders asked, “Do you think that the Lord could heal you?” He answered, “The Lord could if he wanted to.” And the elder said, “Would you like us to administer to you, give you a blessing?” He said he would, and the elders administered to him. That very day he left his wheelchair, never to return to it, and walked four miles to be baptized.
I have often thanked my Heavenly Father that those two missionaries went out and preached the gospel to John Tanner and that he had the courage when he heard the truth to accept it, even though he knew he would be ostracized in the community if he joined the Church.
Some years later he learned that the Church was in financial difficulty. Since he was well-fixed financially, he sold everything he had and gave it to President Joseph Smith to help meet the obligations. He remained true to the faith.
I am so thankful that his son remained true to the faith, and his son remained true to the faith, and his son, who was my father, remained true to the faith. And as a result I am here as a member of the Church today in the position I hold.

Before another of my older brothers was baptized at the age of 27, he had no idea how to live. He was troubled and would drink and party. He caused his family and the people around him much grief. When this brother learned about the purpose of life through the gospel, he was baptized and confirmed and eventually married a wonderful woman in the Church. He found joy in life and began feeling a purpose in being alive. He shared the gospel with friends and was a good influence to many. My brothers who were on missions could hardly believe it when they heard that this brother had joined the Church.

Another time the words “Parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, to provide for their physical and spiritual needs” weighed heavily on my mind. Our family members loved and had a good time with each other, but I felt that we were far from our spiritual potential. The words of the proclamation inspired my wife, Juanita, and me to begin having a family testimony meeting on fast Sunday after church. Unfortunately, our first attempt did little to provide for our children’s spiritual needs. None of them really wanted to be there. Several children complained about how hungry they were, and our youngest asked several times, “When is this going to be over?” Still, we persevered, and after a few months the complaining stopped and we started feeling the Spirit more. This family testimony meeting became a precious time to share sacred truths and to help us “rear [our] children in love and righteousness.”

My grandmother was also at the temple that day. I recall her excitement at seeing the temple lights as we had arrived in Cardston. Years later, after retiring from her job in Calgary, she moved to Cardston and gave many hours of service in the temple. She loved to play the organ and help inspire reverence there. Her testimony and love for the Savior was evidenced through her kindness to everyone around her. She is to me an example of a strong Latter-day Saint woman.

Tiffany shares moving into an apartment with no one whom she knew. A week into school, her bishop called her to be a Relief Society president. “Needless to say I was terrified. However, something special happened during those first weeks that I’ll always remember. My roommate and I became good friends; however, I didn’t realize that until one Sunday night. I was worrying about who I was going to call into the Relief Society organization. I was sitting around the table when my roommate walked up to me and told me not to worry. She knew that I would be great at this calling and that I would touch someone’s life during my eight months as president. She lifted my spirits that night. She later left a note in my room telling me how much she appreciated me and how much faith she had in me. I know that if it hadn’t been for her last year, I would not have had my best year at school so far.”

Annemarie and I met the summer before high school. We were the only freshmen on the varsity soccer team and had to stick together. It seemed we had nearly everything in common, until we attended our first end-of-the-season team party. It was the night after we became state champions.
“You’re not going to have a beer?” she questioned skeptically, snapping open the can of beer offered her. “Coach left already. You’re not going to get caught.”
“I know,” I replied. “That doesn’t matter. I don’t drink.” There was an uncomfortable pause as I awaited her reaction. Slowly, Annemarie put the can back on the counter as she watched me searchingly.
“Are you serious? Not even one to celebrate?”
I shook my head.
“Okay,” she conceded, “then I won’t drink tonight either. In fact, let’s leave.”
That night the two of us started a tradition of leaving team parties with the coach. Sometimes we went out for shakes instead, and often other team members joined us. But usually it was just Annemarie and me.

Please allow me to tell you a story about my family. As my wife, Karen, mentioned, we have been blessed with four sons and one daughter whom we love very, very, much. Our children are very close in age. When Clay, our youngest, was born, our four other children were ages two, three, four, and five. Karen was a very busy mother.

When Clay and Sid were two and four years old, our family was invited to a friend's home for a barbeque. It was held in their backyard which was nicely landscaped and contained a large swimming pool. As we were seated for dinner on the patio, Sid and Clay removed their sandals to dangle their feet in the water near the pool steps. Soon they started to argue and all too predictably Clay began to complain that Sid had done something to annoy him. Karen got up from her seat and went over to Sid and scolded him by whispering something in his ear.

Our visit with our hosts continued for a few more minutes when Karen suddenly jumped from her seat, and in what seemed like one sweeping movement, ran to the pool and then leaped in fully clothed. She scooped Clay from the bottom and brought him back to the pool's edge. Karen had our baby above the water's surface so fast that I am not sure if he even realized that breathing under water was going to be a problem.

Soon it was apparent that Clay was OK and not the least upset by his walk on the bottom of the pool. At this point, Karen turned to Sid and firmly demanded, "why didn't you help your brother?" Then, with all the frustration that a four-year old could muster, he glared at her and said, "You, told me not to touch him!"

In 2010, Andre Sebako was a young man seeking for truth. Though he had never offered a heartfelt prayer before, he decided to try. Shortly afterward he met the missionaries. They gave him a pass-along card with a picture of the Book of Mormon. Andre felt something and asked if the missionaries would sell him the book. They said he could have the book for free if he would come to church.1
Andre attended the then-recently created Mochudi Branch in Botswana, Africa, alone. But the branch was a loving, tight-knit group consisting of about 40 members.2 They welcomed Andre with open arms. He received the missionary lessons and was baptized. It was wonderful!

Let’s turn to the life of Mary Fielding Smith, wife of Hyrum Smith. This was her first marriage and his second. She came into a family where five children were left without a mother when the first wife died. By June 1839 Mary and Hyrum had been married for eighteen months. During that short period they had been driven from two homes, Hyrum had been imprisoned for six months, Mary had been bedridden for four months with a pregnancy, and now, without financial resources, they were struggling to establish another home. Listen to this excerpt written at the time by Mary to her brother Joseph Fielding:
It is now little more than a month since the Lord, in his marvelous power, returned my dear husband, with the rest of the brethren, to their families, in tolerable health. We are now living in Commerce, on the bank of the great Mississippi river. The situation is very pleasant; you would be much pleased to see it. How long we may be permitted to enjoy it I know not; but the Lord knows what is best for us. I feel but little concern about where I am, if I can keep my mind staid upon God; for, you know in this there is perfect peace.[Don Cecil Corbett, Mary Fielding Smith, Daughter of Britain; Portrait of Courage (Salt Lake City, UT: Deseret Book Co., 1966), p. 99]

I noticed, however, that in the following years there was a little soft spot in my character. For example, after having served as a missionary and for four years in the U.S. Armed Forces, I was studying at a university, and there, sometimes, sitting in the back of the room during an examination, I discovered that I had a physical disability. A certain muscle in my neck had a tendency to twist my head in the direction of my neighbor’s paper. I was unaware how this weakness had developed, but it began to trouble me. I knew, of course, what was right, and I didn’t cheat, but how was I to control the involuntary muscle spasm?
One day I performed mental surgery on my neck. It was in the form of a lecture to myself, as follows: “Grant, before you came to school this morning you knew about this examination and you have studied the material carefully. Don’t you remember how, because it was so important, you knelt down and asked Heavenly Father to quicken your mind and increase your powers of memory and recall? Now, Grant, you know the rules of the gospel. You understand that if you take help from your neighbor, you are not going to get any from the Lord. Just make up your mind. Whose help would you rather have?”
You can see how, after that little pep talk, my neck muscle was completely cured.

Picture with me a little six-year-old orphan girl traveling across the plains of America. Her name is Elsie Ann. Her mother died when she was two. Her father remarried, and so for a time she had a stepmother. Then her father died at Winter Quarters when she was five. Her stepmother remarried and moved away, leaving this little orphan behind with Peter and Selina Robison, who were related to her stepmother. Elsie Ann left Winter Quarters with the Robisons in July of 1849 to come west. As she watched Selina care for her 10-month-old baby girl, she no doubt ached for the love of her own mother. Sometimes she would even ask, “Where is my mother?”
My heart goes out to this little girl when I think of her facing her uncertain future with no blood relatives to comfort and help her. Elsie Ann was my great-grandmother, and only recently did we find out who her mother really was. For years we thought Elsie Ann was Jane Robison’s daughter. Careful research discovered her true parentage, and after all these years Elsie Ann now has been sealed to her father, John Akerley, and her mother, Mary Moore.

by Anne C. Bradshaw
“It all began with winning every running event I entered in primary sports,” said 15-year-old Gillian Tate of Saltcoats Branch, Paisley Scotland Stake. “Because of that success, my parents decided to start me training with a proper coach. Now I’m really grateful. I hope to run for Scotland in the Olympics one day.”
And that desire may well come true. Gillian recently was awarded the special prize at Birmingham Athletics, during the 150th anniversary, for coming in first or second in so many events.
Gillian is a member of the Scottish Women’s Amateur Athletic Association and trains three times a week. She is the North Ayreshire Schools champion in 400 meters and is a consistent winner in competitions.
However, Gillian feels her speed is a little unfair for any more Church sports and is thinking of withdrawing from future stake and regional races. “I have to slow down to give other girls a chance,” she says.

The first one we will call Jim. Jim comes from a distant state. He is a fine-looking, clean-cut young man not quite thirty years old. He was one of those who opposed the establishment and society in general. He came from a broken home. He had experienced no love in his life. He left home at age seventeen and joined the army. After release from the military, he wandered about the country without goal or purpose in life, finally finding himself in Salt Lake City. He was involved in a theft, arrested, convicted, and sent to prison. He escaped one day, was recaptured, and was placed in maximum security. In his words, “I came out of maximum security and returned to medium, and still did not know what to do with my life.”
One of the prisoners, knowing of some of the turmoil Jim was going through, sent him to see the LDS chaplain. This was the beginning of a completely new experience in Jim’s life. Even though he found himself in prison, he had taken the first step to a freedom he had not known existed.
After a few weeks of exposure to the program of the Church specially designed for prison life, he said he was able to give up smoking. He became involved in the various religious programs sponsored by the Church social service agency. He said, “I haven’t smoked a cigarette since that day. I haven’t had a cup of coffee since December of last year.” He goes on to tell of the good feeling of accomplishment in overcoming bad personal habits.
He also tells about the family home evening program conducted by his home teachers. He explained that he would have given up in discouragement many times had it not been for this wonderful couple who had been assigned as his home teachers. He said they actually loved him as a son, something he had never experienced in his life, even as a little boy. In his own words: “I have been in this program since June 16, 1970. For these sixteen months, I probably made more changes in my life—inside these walls away from the rat race of society—that I know are going to determine my whole future more than the first twenty-three years of my life before prison. I had no idea at all what the LDS people were or what the Church was until I went to prison.
“I am not proud of being in prison, but I am proud of my experience while being there. I am proud of being a graduate of the program that the LDS people have offered to the inmates at the prison.”
This is the young man who conducted the graduation exercises and did it in a most impressive manner. His goal now is to finish paying his debt to society in order to be released from prison so that he might prepare for baptism and membership in the Church.

Although it’s been nearly 28 years since I graduated high school, it doesn’t seem that long ago. I was so excited to graduate and go to college at that time. I knew what I wanted to study. For as long as I can remember, I had dreamed of becoming a mechanical/aerospace engineer. I was fascinated with aircraft, energy conversion, and all kinds of mechanical objects. I wanted to learn how to improve the world by creating something new and innovative. I was thrilled to start taking my classes. At this time, I didn’t really think about asking the Lord if this was what He wanted me to do. I’m sure I assumed that because I had been planning this for as long as I could remember, it would be what the Lord wanted for me. As I started my first classes, I found different challenges. First, my calculus class was taught by a graduate student from China whom I could barely understand. Very quickly, I started to fall behind, and after failing my first midterm, I decided I needed to drop the class. As I got into my first general chemistry class, I soon learned that chemistry and I didn’t mix very well. Although I felt I was having a rough start, I absolutely loved my first engineering class. I persevered over the next few semesters, determined to do better, for I felt I was meant to be an engineer.

As the time got closer for me to put my mission papers in, I really started pondering and praying about if a mission was right for me. It seemed like such a sacrifice and I thought putting my education on hold for two years would be so difficult. While seeking an answer, I remembered attending the many mission farewells for my cousins. As I went to their homecomings, I remember being so impressed with the spiritual giants they had become. I decided to move forward in faith that the Lord knew what was best for me and in 1996, I was called to the England London South Mission. I will always be eternally grateful for this decision. Not only through this experience was I able to witness many wonderful miracles while teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ, I was also able to meet and baptize my eternal companion. My wife likes to remind me of what the consequences would have been if I had not chosen to serve.

Toward the end of my mission, I decided that I really wanted to understand the Lord’s will for me. I started to sincerely fast and pray about what the Lord wanted me to do with my life. Very quickly, I received a distinct impression: “Roy, you are not to go into engineering.” This hit me like a ton of bricks. Didn’t the Lord know that this was one of my greatest desires? How was I to move forward without having something that I thought was so key to my identity? But I could not deny the inspiration I had received.

In the 1970s and 1980s, the international perception of Soweto, South Africa, included images of terror, violence, and rioting. Home to more than four million Blacks, this segregated township southwest of Johannesburg was the scene of great social upheavals that helped bring worldwide attention to—and the eventual abolition of—apartheid, the policy of racial separation in South Africa.
But even during those violent, troubled years, a miraculous transformation was underway in Soweto. The gospel of Jesus Christ was being preached there, a branch of the Church was created, and missionaries and members of various races were working side by side to establish a spirit of tolerance, understanding, unity, and peace.
Now there is a stake in Soweto, and the future is bright. Two young men are deacons in the Soweto Ward and exemplify the dramatic changes that have taken place there.
When you approach the Vilakazi home, you’ll likely hear laughter and the shuffling sounds of a soccer ball being kicked back and forth. When you enter the front gate, identical twin 13-year-old boys are playing an energetic game, teasing each other good-naturedly between kicks of the ball.
The yard is immaculate, the lawn and flower garden have been tended with great care, and the car parked in the driveway is polished. Sister Vilakazi smiles when you compliment her on her home and garden. “The twins help with the work,” she says.
These 13-year-old twin brothers—filled with seemingly boundless energy and enthusiasm—are also best friends and are together practically all the time. They are in the same classes at school and church and have many of the same friends and interests. When Nkosinathi is swimming, playing sports, or sketching elephants, lions, and tigers, Bonginkosi is usually right there doing the same thing. When Bonginkosi is studying the scriptures, passing the sacrament, or bearing his testimony to a friend, Nkosinathi is more than likely right alongside him.
Except at school, where some know them as Allen and Bryan, Nkosinathi and Bonginkosi use their African names. The names reflect their parents’ joy at their birth. In their native Zulu tongue, Nkosinathi’s name means “God be with us.” Bonginkosi’s name means “We thank the Lord.” Both boys take seriously the responsibilities that come with their names.
Their parents and four older brothers and sisters had already joined the Church when the twins, the youngest in the family, were born. The whole family was sealed in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple when Nkosinathi and Bonginkosi were five years old. The twins were baptized at age eight and were ordained deacons at age 12.
Most of their friends at school are not yet members of the Church, and Nkosinathi and Bonginkosi know the importance of representing the Church well and sharing the gospel with friends.
Sometimes people tease the twins because they won’t follow the crowd in doing things they shouldn’t. Does the teasing and name-calling bother them? “Not that much,” says Nkosinathi, “because I know what’s right. So I just walk away.” Both boys admit that at those times, it’s especially nice to have a twin brother close by.
Their courage and example have been rewarded. For example, “our friend Mbuso Yende became interested in the Book of Mormon,” says Bonginkosi, “so we gave him a copy. Then we invited him to church.” The boys invited the full-time missionaries to teach Mbuso in their home. As a result, Mbuso was baptized and is now a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood in the Soweto Ward. And Mbuso’s mother and other family members are listening to the missionary discussions and attending church with the Vilakazi family.
Having tasted the delicious fruit of missionary success, they are more encouraged than ever to continue preparing for their missions.
“I want to go on a mission to teach the gospel to people who don’t know, who aren’t fortunate enough to have learned about the gospel,” says Bonginkosi.
“I also want to share the message of our Church,” says Nkosinathi, “so others may know the truth.”
Although their missions are six years away, both boys are focused on their goal. “We study the scriptures together and in family home evening,” says Nkosinathi, adding that they are looking forward to attending seminary when they’re old enough. “And we pray every day,” says Nkosinathi. As a result, they feel more prepared to answer questions about the Church and to bear their testimonies. It’s not at all uncommon to see one or both of them—in white shirts and ties—helping the full-time missionaries tract and teach.
The twins do chores around the house to earn money and learn skills for their missions. They help their dad, Gideon Ndondo Vilakazi, by washing the car and working in the yard. When their older sister is working, they help care for her baby. They are learning how to cook (Bonginkosi’s specialty is chicken curry) and to iron their own shirts. “They help me with the dishes and the laundry,” says their mom, Lovedalia Thandekile Vilakazi. “And they help me clean the house by sweeping and scrubbing the floors.”
The boys loved their years in Primary. (Their mother is Primary president.) They learned the Articles of Faith and, at a moment’s notice, can still recite or sing all 13 word for word and explain their meanings.
Now they are following their dad’s footsteps in the priesthood. (Brother Vilakazi is high priests group leader.) “Being a deacon means a lot to me,” says Bonginkosi. “I feel I’ve grown a lot by finishing Primary and going into the deacons quorum. I was really excited to pass the sacrament for the first time.”
In addition to passing the sacrament, the twins and the six other deacons in the ward collect the hymnbooks after meetings, clean and wash the sacrament trays, close the windows, and help keep the meetinghouse tidy. And they enjoy participating in activities with other young men and young women in their ward, such as playing soccer, swimming, hiking, giving service, and attending Mutual.
Their heroes are Nephi and Joseph Smith. And they also have modern-day heroes. “I look up to my bishop,” says Bonginkosi, “because he’s a very righteous man.”
“He always assists people with any problem they have,” says Nkosinathi.
Energetic teenagers, faithful bearers of the Aaronic Priesthood, a blessing and support to parents and family, good friends to others, prospective missionaries. These young men—and many others like them—represent Soweto’s bright promise for the future. “God be with us!” “We thank the Lord!”

On occasion President Romney has told a delightful story about his wife. He said that he was concerned about his wife and couldn’t get her to go to the doctor, so he consulted with the doctor for advice. The doctor told him to use a simple test that would convince her of the need to see him about her hearing. He told President Romney to go home and call to her from several places, and if she didn’t respond quickly, there would be clear evidence of her need for medical help.
So President Romney went home and called to her from the front door: “Ida!” No answer. Then he moved inside and called, “Ida!” Then he called from the dining room. Still no answer. At last he confronted her in the kitchen and said, “Ida, I have been calling you.” And she replied, “I know, my dear, and I have answered you three times.”
President Romney then went on to say, “The problem wasn’t Ida’s.”

On that long, recent journey around the earth, we met another friend who once was on the faculty of Brigham Young University. Now his children are grown; and he and his wife concluded that rather than retire into idleness as they could well have done, and as millions of others in this land are doing, they would find someplace in the world where they could help some of our Father’s children by teaching them the truths that will save them. They found such a land. They sold their beautiful Utah home; they sold their Lincoln Continental; they left friends and relatives for a distant, less comfortable place. As they have cast their bread upon the waters, the Lord has opened opportunities for them to teach and lift and help. No one can foretell the consequences of their pioneering. As I have thought of this man and woman, who have left the comforts of their home and the society of their friends at an age when most people want to slow down and take it easy, I have thought of the words of the Lord, “And every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name’s sake, shall receive an hundredfold and shall inherit everlasting life” (Matthew 19:29).

As a special witness of Jesus Christ, Elder Ashton always keeps in mind his mission to lift and teach others. Once one of his friends who was inactive in the Church was about to send his son on a mission. When Elder Ashton heard of this, he made an appointment with his friend, just to put his arm around him and say, “Wouldn’t it be nice if he were going into the mission field as your son for time and all eternity?” The inactive brother soon prepared himself and his family for the blessings of the temple.

My baptism into this Church was one of the highlights of my life. I was eight years of age. My parents taught me and my brothers the significance of this great ordinance. My mother told me that after my baptism I would be held accountable for the things I did that were not right. I remember the day of my baptism very vividly. I was baptized in the baptismal font in the Tabernacle on Temple Square. Those who were being baptized put on white coveralls and one by one were gently taken down the steps into the water. One of the children baptized that day was not totally immersed, and so the ordinance was repeated. This was necessary because, as the scriptures indicate, “baptism symbolizes death, burial, and resurrection, and can only be done by immersion.” It also follows the pattern set by the Savior, who was baptized in the river Jordan, where there was much water. As Matthew records, “And Jesus, when he was baptized, went up straightway out of the water.”
Even though I was only eight years of age, the words of the baptismal prayer penetrated deeply into my soul. After repeating my name, Brother Irvin G. Derrick, who baptized me, said, “Having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”