Gospel Story Finder

I remember one day going to my office and seeing outside the door of the faculty person next to me (a bishop) a young lady with a distraught look on her face. She waited and kept knocking on this door for some time, but my colleague was out. There was something about her appearance that was compelling to me, and so I said, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt, but you look distraught. Is there anything that I can do?”
She said, “I’m waiting for Brother So-and-so. He’s my bishop, and he seems to be out.”
I said, “Is there anything I can do?” So she came into my office, we talked, and I found that this young lady was a cousin of mine, a woman of about 38. When she found that we were kin, the tragic story of her life began to unfold. I began to see the despair and the disappointment and the frustration and the hopelessness that she was experiencing at that point in her life—single, never married, distraught, worried about her future. Later, she undoubtedly received help from her bishop, but I as a kinsman tried to work for a period of months in a helping relationship with her, to talk with her, to sustain her, to counsel her as best I could. She finally decided that it was best that she go back with her family and help take care of her mother, who was an invalid. So she went home and was somehow able to put off her despair, invest herself intently again into the affairs of those things spiritual. Then came the time when I received a telephone call and later an announcement that she had met a young man whose wife had died and left him with five children. I was able to greet her in the temple when she was sealed to her companion and became the instant mother of five children. I have hope that at certain points my strength might have been a help to others. I pray that the strength you may have might be a help to those who are faltering in their race of life.

Photographs by Leslie Nilsson
From a young age, I really looked forward to going to the university. The university would allow me to get a good education and eventually lead me to a stable job that would enable me to raise a family.
But when I reached university age, I was not sure how I could afford to go. The resources available to me were not sufficient. My dad had passed away the previous year, and my sister and I had moved in with my uncle. At that time, our uncle did not have sufficient material resources to help me because he was helping five of his own children at the university.
From a young age, I also desired to serve God in one capacity or another, but I did not know how. Before I joined the Church at age 19, I had no opportunity to do that.
When I joined the Church in 2004, I still wanted to pursue my university education, but I made the decision to serve a mission first. I still did not know how I was going to achieve my dreams and goals of a university education after my mission, but I exercised faith that things would eventually work out for me. I said to myself, “I will trust the Lord. I will serve Him first. Other things will follow later.” So, I went forward in faith and began doing service to help pay for my mission.
Some of my friends told me I was going to waste my time as a missionary. But I had faith that a mission was the right thing to do, that serving the Lord was not a waste of time.
One of the scriptures that inspired me to serve is found in the New Testament: “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you” (Matthew 6:33).
I was soon called to the Ghana Cape Coast Mission. My mission provided me with memorable experiences and laid the foundation for future opportunities and responsibilities. After my mission, I was better prepared for my schooling, employment, and various callings in the Church, including as a bishop.
When I came home, some of my cousins had finished their education. My good uncle then had resources available to help me pursue my university education. I did a certified public accounting course and then enrolled in a bachelor’s degree program. Five years after my mission, I graduated in accounting and finance.
Truly, as I have seen in my life after my mission, the Lord has added “all these things” to my family. Before my mission, I was concerned that if I didn’t go to school, if I didn’t get a good education, I would live in poverty. But the Lord has blessed my family beyond measure and enabled us to live a relatively comfortable life.
I have never regretted serving a mission before going to the university. Showing faith to serve a mission was the foundation of many decisions I have made in my life. Serving the Lord helped me build my faith on a sure foundation. That foundation has helped me make right decisions when I have faced tough choices.
For those uneasy about serving a mission, I would give the same advice I received from the scriptures: “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness,” and all these things that you think will not come to you will eventually come according to the will of God—even tenfold. That’s my experience.

The first lesson is that everyone makes mistakes. Not long ago I was with an eight-year-old girl on the day of her baptism. At the end of the day she said with all confidence, “I have been baptized for a whole day, and I haven’t sinned once!” But her perfect day did not last forever, and I am sure she is learning by now, like we all learn, that as hard as we try, we do not always avoid every bad situation, every wrong choice, or control ourselves as we should.

A man who grew up in the Church, served as a full-time missionary, and married a lovely woman was surprised when some of his siblings began speaking critically of the Church and the Prophet Joseph Smith. After a time they left the Church and tried to persuade him to follow. As often happens in such cases, they bombarded him with essays, podcasts, and videos produced by critics, most of whom were themselves disaffected former members of the Church. His siblings mocked his faith, telling him he was gullible and misled. He didn’t have answers for all their assertions, and his faith began to waver under the relentless opposition. He wondered if he should stop attending church. He talked with his wife. He talked with people he trusted. He prayed. As he meditated in this troubled state of mind, he recalled occasions when he had felt the Holy Spirit and had received a witness of truth by the Spirit. He concluded, “If I am honest with myself, I must admit that the Spirit has touched me more than once and the testimony of the Spirit is real.” He has a renewed sense of happiness and peace that is shared by his wife and children.

I had a similar experience in Idaho some years later. I was attending a stake conference. After the Sunday morning session one of the bishops brought his aged mother up to see me. I had been referring to the Book of Mormon during my sermon and was still holding it in my hand.
She took the book from me, opened it, read a paragraph at random, and then returned the book. I wondered why. Then she said that at the previous stake conference the visitor had been Elder Thomas E. McKay, one of the Assistants to the Council of the Twelve.
She asked me if I knew Elder McKay and of course, I responded that I did. Then she said, “Will you please tell him that I read a paragraph in your book? When he was here at our last conference, my son brought him to my home and had him administer to me. I was blind. Please tell him that I read from your book.”

Teaching your children about marriage and family can be as easy as sharing a personal experience. A young adult shared how she gained an appreciation for her temple sealing:
“I remember sitting alone in an empty celestial room in the temple. I was anxious, not knowing if I would be sealed in the temple that day because of a miscommunication about the recommends my fiancé needed.
“I began to pray earnestly that the Lord would allow us to be sealed in His temple that day. As I did, a thought occurred to me: Although you are alone in the celestial room, the celestial kingdom is celestial because you won’t be alone. You will be with your eternal family and your heavenly family. That’s why you are being sealed.
“Forty minutes and a few phone calls later, my husband and I were able to be sealed. I was overwhelmed with gratitude and relief. The ordinance became more meaningful to me because we could build a celestial life with God where we would never have to be alone.”

I began taking sewing classes, and I had another wonderful teacher. She believes in God but belongs to a different religion. In one of the classes, the gospel came up, and when she asked me what religion I belonged to, I replied that I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She seemed confused at the name, and I clarified, “People also know us as Mormons.” She immediately got excited and said, “I love the Mormons!” with a smile on her face.
She continued, “I can tell you’re a Mormon,” and she began to list the reasons why. I was happy that she noticed I strived to live the gospel. She asked me a little about baptism in the Church. As I explained it, she said right away, “I can’t get baptized into your church because I was raised in a different religion.” In hearing her tell me about her beliefs, I learned a lot about what I could share with her. I felt the quiet but firm feeling to give her a Book of Mormon, and I knew it was the Spirit speaking to me.
I obtained a Book of Mormon, grabbed a sheet of paper, and wrote her a short but sincere dedication with my phone number on the other side, in case she had questions. I put the paper in the book, wrapped it up, and put a bow on it. I gave it to her the next class. She was thrilled to receive it and thanked me.
All week I wondered how she had reacted to opening the gift—if she liked it or not. The next class I arrived a little late and was surprised with her reaction as I entered the room. She hugged me and said emphatically, “I loved it, loved it, loved it! The book you gave me is lovely, beginning at the introduction when it talks about the plates. It is so true! It has lovely scriptures. I started reading, and I’m halfway through. I can’t stop reading it!”
Hearing so much excitement, the rest of the class turned around to see what was going on. One of my classmates, whom I had been talking to about the Book of Mormon, asked if this book brought peace. My teacher replied, “It made me want to weep, not from sadness but from being blessed.” She couldn’t stop smiling and hugging me.
I felt very happy. At that moment, I came to understand that we cannot judge who is ready to receive the word of God. We cannot know how open a person’s heart is. If God inspires us to share, we need to take action because He knows better than we do.

“But Mom, I don’t want to go to church today!” Trevor complained. “I want to stay home and play outside. We get a vacation from school, so why can’t we take a vacation from church too?”
Trevor’s mother smiled as she asked, “What do you think would happen if Heavenly Father took a vacation from watching over us and helping us? Besides, you have all the rest of the week to play outside.”
The next day Trevor did play outside. He played long and hard. Late in the afternoon, while he was racing his bicycle with his friends, he turned his head to see how far ahead of them he was. In that instant his bicycle hit a rock, and the next thing Trevor knew, he was in a hospital bed with a big cast on his left leg and a huge bandage on his head.
As Trevor lay there, his leg was held up by a chain and pulley. He couldn’t turn; he could only lie on his back. The doctors told him that he would have to lie that way for at least four weeks! His whole summer was ruined!
To just lie still in the big hospital bed was the hardest work that Trevor had ever done. His mom, dad, and sisters came to visit him every day. They brought books to read and cassette tapes and games that he could play while lying down. This helped, but each day still seemed like forever.
When Sunday came, Trevor knew that his family would go to church and wouldn’t come to see him till late afternoon. Trevor colored in his new coloring book, then read some of his books. Nothing feels right. This is Sunday, and I would be in church if I were home. That would feel right, he told himself.
Trevor thought about his Primary class. They’re probably in Sharing Time right now, singing some of my favorite songs. Maybe they’ll play that Bible story game that Sister Hinton taught us last week. Trevor wondered what Sister Norman’s lesson would be about today. Last week it had been about forgiveness. He really did like the lessons, even though it was hard to sit still sometimes. The more Trevor thought about church, the more he wished that he could be there.
The next week wasn’t any easier for Trevor. He kept thinking about not being able to go to church on Sunday. After lying still for days and days, sitting for three hours in church didn’t seem quite so impossible anymore.
When Sunday came again, the morning seemed to get longer and longer. Trevor looked at the clock on the wall. Sharing Time is just getting over, and everyone will be going to their classes. I bet the lesson’s a good one, Trevor thought sadly.
About ten minutes later Sister Norman appeared in the doorway! “Hello, Trevor. May we come in?” she asked.
“Wow! Yes! Yes!” Trevor shouted happily.
Sister Norman was followed by the other four children in Trevor’s Primary class. Each child carried cards and letters that all the children in Primary had made for Trevor during Sharing Time.
After a few minutes of visiting, Sister Norman said, “Trevor, we all missed you so much that we decided that Primary wasn’t Primary without you, and we decided to bring Primary to you today.”
The children all sat down around the bed while Sister Norman gave her lesson on kindness to others.
All too soon the lesson was over, and it was time for Trevor’s class to go. Before she left, Sister Norman said, “Trevor, if it’s all right with you, till you’re well, we’d like to visit you each week and give you the Primary lesson, just like we have done at the ward.”
“Oh,” Trevor said, “that would be just great! Thank you.”
After his class had left, Trevor thought, I’m glad that Primary doesn’t stop when we’re out of school. And I’m especially glad that Heavenly Father doesn’t take a vacation!

This four-storey building is currently a private dwelling, but in the 1890s, it was the headquarters of the London Conference of the Church. It was also used as missionary accommodation and was home to the North London branch. The Church took over the property in 1893, and the building was used for Sunday and week-day meetings.
Clara Holbrook from Filmore, Utah, served as a missionary in London from 1899 to 1901. Letters written home while serving there shed light on the use of Number 36:
“At 8 o’clock every Thursday night we hold meetings in the hall at 36. On Sunday morning we meet in some Park and Sunday afternoon at 2.30 and 6.30 at Clerkenwell [Town] Hall.”
She also paints an interesting picture of street meetings held at the time:
“At my first street meeting I wanted to laugh. It seemed so funny for two or three of us to stop right in the middle of a little side street; to sing, pray and speak to the few open-mouthed passers by who stood listening a few minutes then passed on only to be replaced by others. Some listen intently from the beginning to the close of the meeting which lasts about an hour. At both meetings we had a fair audience, respectful and good listeners. The noise of the street is so great at times, the speaker can scarcely be heard.”
Then in one letter home, she writes:
“Sometimes I feel very far away from those I love …but then comes the consoling thought that I am called of God to carry the glorious light of the gospel to souls that are in comparative darkness. My heart is full of gratitude for the testimony I have to the truthfulness of the gospel. I could sing with all my heart ‘I’ll praise the Lord while I am young, and in my early days Devote the music of my tongue to my Redeemer’s praise.’”
Her experiences in London had revealed to her the extent of her blessings and of her testimony. Number 36 was clearly not just a home to the London Conference, but also a training ground for the young missionaries who served there in the 1890s.

In my current role as a teacher I have the opportunity to work with students over the course of several years. Through these prolonged associations I have the chance to get to know these students on a more personal level. It is with the permission of one such former student that I share the following story.

In most ways Julie was a typical student. She was bright and articulate, and she enjoyed all the blessings of being raised in the restored gospel. I knew a little of her family background. Her parents were former mission presidents and her siblings were strong in the faith. Julie married a wonderful man who had also been raised in the gospel. I was surprised that they didn’t choose the temple to make their marital covenants, nor did they embrace the gospel in their new life together. I often thought of Julie and her husband and would occasionally see them around town with their growing family. I wondered how they were doing and if they would once again embrace the gospel.

Several years ago I spent an extended amount of time in Nauvoo. I enjoyed visiting the historical sites of the Church and was particularly touched as I stood on the property of one of my ancestors, a pioneer of the Church—James Sawyer Holman. I marveled at the roster that showed the date when he received his temple endowments in the Nauvoo Temple. It became very clear to me that the unwavering faith of James Sawyer Holman and other ancestors had provided me with the blessings of the restored gospel. In my mind’s eye I could see that I was the last link in the chain of a long line of faithful members of the Church. I pondered how different my life would be if one of those ancestors had made different choices. Suddenly it occurred to me that my responsibility was to remain strong in my faith not only for my sake but also for the sake of my children and my posterity. In a new way I understood that my decisions didn’t just affect me.

Several days later, while sitting in my apartment, I continued to ponder this personal revelation. Suddenly the name of this former student—Julie—came to my mind. It had been years since I had seen Julie and her husband or had even thought about them. The thought came to my mind that I should share these thoughts with them, that I should tell them they are links in their own chain for their own posterity. At first I pushed aside these feelings, but as they persisted I followed through and began to write a thoughtful letter. I admit I questioned if what I felt was truly a spiritual prompting or just my own thoughts. I finished the letter and reluctantly sent it, not knowing if I had overstepped my bounds. I received no response.

Several years have passed since I sent the letter, and the original circumstances are now far from my memory. A few months ago my wife came home from the grocery store and said that she had bumped into Julie while shopping.

During their conversation Julie said, “Please tell your husband thank you for the letter he wrote many years ago about being a strong link in our chain. He should know that my husband and I are now married in the temple. My husband is the elders quorum president in our ward, and I am serving in the Young Women organization. We now have an eternal family.”

At first when I was told this I didn’t recall writing the letter, but upon further reflection I did remember the strong feelings many years ago that resulted in my writing the letter. For me this experience is a stone added to my personal monument—one that helps me remember the importance of following the promptings of the Holy Ghost.

Thirteen years ago we discovered that our daughter Becky was expecting twins. The doctors determined through many tests that they were at high risk, developing in the same sac, with a mortality rate of 20 to 60 percent. Normally this condition requires automatic hospitalization at 24 weeks so the babies can constantly be monitored. With a 3-year-old and a 1-year-old already in her family we knew that this would be next to impossible. Immediately we all started praying for miracles, whatever that meant. The priesthood blessings she received from her husband gave her great comfort.
At about 16 weeks she saw the specialist for the first time. He reviewed the past tests and came back with the same grim results. Then he did yet another ultrasound. The doctor was stunned by what he found, so he called in other doctors to verify his findings. Finally he reported that they had actually seen the faintest membrane developing, meaning that the babies were indeed in two separate sacs. Our son-in-law, her husband, who is also a doctor, had seen all the previous test results and now this new one. He said it was nothing short of a medical miracle – a membrane was developing. Our Becky called me in tears and said, “People can explain it however they want, but I know it’s the miracle we’ve been praying for.”
After many other uncertainties and complications during the pregnancy coupled with amazing blessings, two miraculously perfect little 5 pound girls were born. I felt that angels were attending our daughter and I knew that the day of miracles has not ceased.

I was shopping with my mom and I saw some money on the floor, so I told my mom. She picked up the bills, and it was $430! I did what Heavenly Father would want me to do and took the money to the service counter. They asked for our names and phone number. The employee called us about 10 minutes later and said the owner had claimed the money and had left $10 for me as a reward for being honest. It gave me a good feeling.

My next step was to try my goal at school. Being the only Mormon in my school was more than a little challenging. I started by listening to my friends, not just hearing. Others began to listen back. I found there was so much to learn about each person—their beliefs, their interests, and their goals. Also, I found that each person, whether he is Jewish, Greek Orthodox, or Catholic, wants to be important; he wants others to care about him.

The red, yellow, and orange leaves crunched under my feet on the bumpy brick sidewalk. Ivy climbed up the old buildings I passed on my way, forming intricate designs. I was headed for the subway. I was happy; inside I was singing. The blue sky outlined the tall majestic buildings. When I arrived at the subway station, I dug into my pocket and pulled out a button that read, “I Care.” I smiled. I pulled out a quarter and rode up to Park Street Station. A hundred faces, each individual, each reflecting a different personality, rode with me.
I smiled at every gaze that fell my way; some smiled back and sent a part of themselves with their smile. I knew where I was going; I knew what I wanted. I wanted others to know too. I had found the true joy of living; the button was pinned on the outside of my coat and on the inside of my heart.

Grandpa learned to harness horses by helping his father. By the time he was eight, he could harness a dog to a small cart and ride around his parents’ dairy farm. By the age of twelve he could harness his family’s horse to a two-seater cart. Harnessing requires more, however, than just knowing how to put on the harness. You have to know how to train and handle horses and how to get along well with them. And you have to practice your skills often. You need to learn how horses are likely to behave in certain situations, and you must study each horse’s temperament. It takes patience, a good memory, and love.

Just ask Stacy Allen, a senior and a cheerleader. When Stacy volunteered to be a Seminary Friend last fall, she had no idea how the experience would change her life.
“I had Amber Rindlesbacher as my partner,” Stacy says. “It was the first time I’d been around a special-needs student. It was an adjustment, but I just felt the Spirit really strong when I was around her. I learned so much.”
Stacy felt Amber’s influence outside of the classroom too. “I could tell there was a difference,” she says. “I could feel the Spirit more in my life. It helped me to be happier toward my family and friends.”
In fact, Stacy loved her first Seminary Friends experience so much she decided to do it again the next semester; but there was a problem: Stacy’s school schedule did not have room for another noncredit class.
At Logan High School, seminary is taught during the school day. Students attend seminary classes just as they would any other class, walking off campus to the Church-owned seminary building nearby. Students plan their schedules carefully to fill high school graduation requirements and still attend noncredit seminary classes. Stacy needed one more credited class to graduate. So Stacy signed up for an independent study course to fill the credit requirements for high school graduation and thought she had the problem resolved.
“Then they told me that since I wouldn’t have a full on-campus schedule I couldn’t be a cheerleader anymore,” Stacy says. Stacy had to choose between cheerleading and the special-needs seminary. “I didn’t want to let my squad down. But I really loved my seminary experience. I prayed, and I fasted for a solution.”
One night, while struggling with her decision, Stacy dreamed that she was in heaven and met Amber. In her dream Amber was whole and well. The two met as equals and as friends. When Stacy woke up, she confirmed her decision. She gave up cheerleading to serve in the Seminary Friends program one more time.
That semester, Stacy was paired with special-needs student Jimmy Carmen. He has an infectious smile and outgoing personality. Stacy says, “Jimmy makes me feel happy every day.”
Stacy misses cheerleading but says the trade-off has been worth the sacrifice. She says, “It’s been worth it, definitely.” She feels the Spirit there and believes she’s gained more than she’s given as a Seminary Friend. “The kids teach me to be more accepting,” she says.

One of the mountains we had to climb was when we were making all the arrangements with my wife’s family for our marriage. Her family, who is Catholic, made it a condition that if I wanted to marry their daughter, we had to get married religiously in the Catholic Church. We were completely at a loss as to what to do.
My wife and I said to each other that temple marriage is a commandment of God. We had faith in Him and in His Son Jesus Christ; we decided to pray and fast, and then whatever our Heavenly Father would reveal to us we would do it, even if it meant getting married in a Catholic church. We decided to meet with my wife’s family to ask them if we could all pray together. If our Heavenly Father revealed to us that we should get married in the Catholic Church, then we would do it. But if God revealed to us that we should get married in the temple, then we would invite my wife’s family to accept that answer. Our goal was to accept the will of God.
After we prayed and fasted, our Heavenly Father revealed to us that we should get married in the temple. To our great surprise, my in-laws did not challenge us anymore.
We have been married now for three years, and we plan to go to the temple next month.
A few months ago, my mother-in-law told my wife that she felt that we had bewitched them during the prayer. They did not understand what had happened! My wife tenderly explained that it was the Spirit of God that touched her heart.

Jennifer Reid did not always like to perform, but you would never know that to watch her today.
She has overcome her fear of speaking and recently won the California state championship in the competition for dramatic interpretation of original prose and poetry. “Three years ago, I was terribly shy,” says Jennifer. “But I signed up for a speech elective, and once I started competing—and winning—I gained my confidence.”
Besides the honor of winning the state title, she was recognized for being the only freshman in the history of her high school to do so.
Jennifer serves as Mia Maid president in the Laurelglen Ward, Bakersfield California South Stake.

Liisa Roto of Tampere, Finland, has some friends she’d like you to meet. But to visit them, you need an appointment. You have to wear paper shoes so you won’t track bacteria into their living area. And Liisa must talk to them, calm them down, and convince them to trust you.

Then Liisa will stand beside a pool, raise both hands over her head, and blow on a whistle. Her friends will come slicing through the water at you like sleek, gray torpedoes. Then they’ll turn upward like missiles and launch themselves into the air, splashing you in the process.

Liisa’s friends, you see, are dolphins.

His grandfather Tom, who lived just up the street and owned a number of properties on the block, was a favorite companion of his. He was named after his grandfather. Grandpa Tom, a man of few words, was a sheepherder and delighted young Tommy with stories of living on the range, riding his horse, and caring for his sheep. Little did Tommy know that he, too, would care for sheep in his adult years. Just not on horseback.
One day Tommy and grandpa were sitting on the front porch swing. Down the road came one of their neighbors, an elderly Englishman named Bob. He walked with shoulders slumped and a sorrowful cast on his face. Tom Condie called out, “Bob, how are you today.”
Bob just shook his head.
Tom continued, “Come up and sit with us a spell.”
Bob joined Tom and Tommy on the swing and after a few minutes, Grandpa Tom said, “So Bob, how are you doing.”
Bob just shrugged at first and then said, “I’ve been thrown out of my place; they’re tearing it down and I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t have much. I don’t have any family and I don’t know what I am going to do.”
The three kept swinging. Grandpa Tom. Tommy and Bob.
Finally Grandpa Tom reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a little leather change purse with a snap. He opened it and reached in and pulled out a key. “See this key,” he said to Bob? It’s to that house next door. I own it. I want you to take the key and move your things in there.”
Bob protested. “I can’t afford it.”
Tom said, a bit sharply, “I didn’t ask you to pay for it. It’s yours as long as you want to live there. All I ask is that you just be my good neighbor.”
President Monson will tell you, “That lesson was not lost on me.”

Pamela’s father, Thomas Wilson, would go with the missionaries on Sunday evenings to the marketplace in the city centre, where they held street meetings. A crowd would gather as the missionaries preached the restored gospel, and Pamela’s father went along to bear his testimony. When Pamela was a little girl, she used to ask if she could accompany him and he’d say, “No, I don’t think that’s the best place for you to come.” He knew that the crowds were not always friendly. Sometimes people yelled to distract the missionaries and threw rotten fruit at them.
Just before Pamela turned eight, her father agreed that she could go with him one Sunday. While she was there, she saw the hostility toward the missionaries and toward her father. She relates that her father was standing on a box, so as to be seen, bearing his testimony. She was standing behind him, holding on to his coattails. She heard him bear his witness of Jesus Christ. To see her father stand in those circumstances and declare his testimony made a great impression on her life; it anchored her to faith in the Savior.