Gospel Story Finder

Young men and women, you can be a great influence for good in your homes as you help to achieve worthy family objectives. I shall never forget the family home evening, years ago, in which the name of each member of our family was placed in a hat. The name you picked from the hat would be your “secret friend” for the week. You can imagine the love that filled my heart when I came home that Tuesday after work to sweep out the garage, as I had earlier promised, and found it cleanly swept. There was a note attached to the garage door which read, “Hope you had a good day—your secret friend.” And on Friday night, as I turned down my bed, I uncovered an Almond Joy, my favorite candy bar, wrapped carefully in scotch tape and plain white paper, with a note: “Dad, I love you a lot! Thanks, your secret friend.” Then to top it off, after returning home from a late meeting Sunday evening, I found the dining room table beautifully set, and written on the napkin by my place were the words “SUPER DAD” in big bold letters and in parentheses, “your secret friend.” Hold your family home evenings, for this is where the gospel is taught, a testimony gained, and the family fortified.

Another pioneer woman was Lovisa Munter of Uppsala. She became a member in 1886 and was faithful until her death at 91 years of age. On many Sundays she went to the meeting hall, turned on the light, and waited for other members to come. Often no one came. At 11:00 a.m. she would say to herself, “God should not have to wait.” She would sing a song, say a prayer, give a little talk, and then finish with another song and prayer.
When she had occasion to travel to Stockholm by train, Sister Munter would pass out tracts about the Church. Her legacy of faith continues: several of her descendants have returned to Sweden as missionaries.3

During a family home evening activity, I used the Family Tree app to learn who my ancestors were and what their lives were like. I was surprised to learn that one of my ancestors had been a cavalryman who had guarded a Japanese emperor who lived long ago.

I was a student at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah just finishing my first year of graduate work when our first child, a son, was born. We were very poor, though not as poor as Joseph and Mary. My wife and I were both going to school, both working and in addition we worked as head residents in an off-campus apartment complex to help pay our rent. We drove a little Volkswagen which had a half-dead battery because we couldn’t afford a new one (Volkswagen or battery!).

Nevertheless, when I realized that our own special night was coming, I believe I would have done any honorable thing in this world, and mortgaged my future, to make sure my wife had the clean sheets, the sterile utensils, the attentive nurses, and the skilled doctors who brought forth our firstborn son. If she or that child had needed special care at the finest private medical center I believe I would have ransomed my very life to get it.

More than forty years ago I was a missionary in the British Isles. That was the time of the British Empire when it could truthfully be said that the sun never set on British soil, and when the British flag waved over a fourth of the world. In those days the peace of the world was peace in the British Empire. Now the British Empire is gone; its parts are independent nations, and the British Empire, symbolized by the lion that roared so loudly, is old and sick and weak.

The following example gives some ideas of how Julie may respond to her friend Zach.

Julie, my preacher talked about the Trinity last Sunday. He said that God, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit are one. But when you’ve talked about God before, you seemed to believe differently. Can you explain it to me?

I know the members of the Godhead are three different Beings. But what if Zach asks me how They’re different? This answer could really make a difference, but I don’t know if I can explain it well. What should I do?

Well, Zach, They are three different Beings. We refer to Them as the Godhead, and They each have different roles. We know God the Father is literally the Father of our spirits—a loving Father—and we are His children. …

But there’s more to it than that. I don’t have time to explain it all before the bell rings, but if you’d like, we can talk about it at lunch tomorrow.

Sure. I’d like to know what you believe.

Where should I begin? I want to follow the Spirit as I find my answers. I’ll start with a prayer to ask Heavenly Father for help.

I guess I should start with what I know:
I remember my Young Women teacher talked about the roles of the Godhead. She said …

The First Vision shows that the Father and Son are separate Beings.
Dad shared a quote from Joseph Smith about this once. I should ask him about it.

I should see what the scriptures say about it. I’m sure the Topical Guide lists some verses about the roles of the Godhead. And there may be scripture mastery verses too.

I remember some conference talks lately about each member of the Godhead. I’ll have to look them up. … I wonder what else I’ll find at LDS.org. …

Hey, this talk looks helpful, too! … And True to the Faith even has a section on the Godhead.

This article reminds me of the time I first knew Heavenly Father was aware of me as His child. I really felt the Spirit testify that God is my Father. I could share those feelings with Zach.

Wow—I’ve learned a lot. I’m so grateful for the help from the Spirit. I’ll pray again before talking to Zach.

Hey, Zach! I’ve thought a lot about your question from yesterday. I’d love to talk about it a little more if you’d like to.

Yeah, sure. That would be great.

Well, in our Church, we believe …

Walnetta Broederlow McCall was only nine years old when a missionary asked if anyone could play piano for their fledgling congregation. “I gingerly put up my hand!” she recalls. The missionary, Elder Charles W. Ashman, was not deterred by her age or inexperience. He gave Walnetta hymns to practice, and the following week, she became the pianist for their meetings.
Over the years, Walnetta has served in many other callings and enjoyed those experiences too. Today, she feels just as privileged to provide prelude music in her current Taupo Ward, to invite the Holy Spirit and set a reverent tone for their sacrament meetings. Reflecting on her love for her calling, she is so grateful for the gift that Elder Ashman gave her all those years ago when he asked for a volunteer pianist. “His invitation to play for our meetings and [his] confidence in me has blessed my life,” she says.

Week after week, my frustration grew. With three small, active children and a busy high-councilor husband who would soon be serving as a mission president, I was finding it harder and harder to stay at a high spiritual level. Church attendance helped, but with my husband often away on assignment, I was left alone on Sunday to quiet one child’s impatient feet, dry another’s tears, or change the baby’s diaper. My spirit desperately craved nourishment.
I knew what I needed to do, but I didn’t know how to make it work. The words I had seen displayed a hundred different times in a hundred different lessons were engraved indelibly on my mind:
Pray Always
Read the Scriptures
Live the Commandments
I was keeping the commandments. I was praying, or thought I was. And I was trying to read the scriptures whenever time permitted. It’s just that time didn’t permit my reading very often. Most of my days were spent in rushing from one household crisis to another, hardly finding time to read the instructions on the laundry detergent box, let alone anything uplifting like the scriptures.
And so the weeks and months flew by, full of household tasks and Church responsibilities. I met the children’s demands and needs willingly because I knew this was what the Lord wanted from me at this time in my life. But I still couldn’t find time to read the scriptures. There was only so much one person could do, I rationalized defensively. Wasn’t I doing everything expected of me? If so, where were the promised blessings—the joy, the peace of mind? What spiritual growth could one possibly get from sweeping floors and changing diapers? How could I blend the day-to-day chores and responsibilities of child-raising with the celestial peace for which my spirit hungered?
Something had to be done—my spirit was suffering. I was desperate. I discovered that the only quiet time I had was when I locked myself in a room two or three times a day so I could have a private, heart-to-heart talk with Heavenly Father. I really poured my heart out.
Several weeks later, our bishop called me to be the Spiritual Living teacher in Relief Society. This wasn’t the kind of help I had expected, but I took a deep breath and accepted. That call changed my life. The daily study and preparation it took for me to give those lessons taught me two things. First, if the incentive were strong enough—in this case, fear that I wouldn’t be prepared—I found the time to read the scriptures. Second, I learned that when I prayerfully searched the scriptures, I found they contain the answer to every question and dilemma.
One day it occurred to me that if the scriptures can answer all the questions in the Relief Society manual, they ought to be able to answer questions about rearing children. I began reading the Book of Mormon with a purpose. Whenever I discovered an example of parenting, I wrote down the reference with a brief note. When I finished, I organized the examples I’d discovered into principles taught and my applications of each principle.

When young John was about two, his family moved from storm-lashed Froya, the outermost island off the coast of Norway, to Namos on the mainland. Their new home was about 80 miles (128 km) north of Trondheim, the ancient capital of Norway. Here John’s father could expand his opportunities as a schoolmaster. A second son, Aasbjorn (later Osborne) Johannes Peder Widtsoe, was born in Namos. But within weeks of this birth, disaster struck—the boys’ father died suddenly, the result of a knotted intestine.
Anna and her two boys moved to Trondheim to be near her in-laws. However, she maintained her independence by living in a rented apartment, where she eked out a living as a seamstress. Anna was anxious that John should follow in his father’s footsteps, and one of her husband’s schoolfellows offered to tutor the bright seven-year-old, launching the lad on his astounding career as a scholar/teacher.

On the subject of prayer, Elder Abrea said, “I know my prayers have been answered many, many times. One of the first times I remember was when I was eleven years old. My father also used to sell a variety of grains that had to be mashed for cattle. One day he had an appointment and he couldn’t finish mashing the grain. I told him to leave me with the machinery and that I could finish it for him. He said he felt I was too young and wouldn’t be able to do it.
“‘Oh, Father,’ I insisted, ‘trust me, I can do it.’
“Well, he decided to let me try. The job took about four or five hours, and I began by putting the grain into the machine. Things were going all right and then suddenly the machine jammed. I knew that you had to take one of the parts off the machine and put it on again and then it would work. I removed the part but I couldn’t get it back on the machine. I started to cry because I didn’t want to disappoint my father.
“At that time I had been a member of the Church for about six months, and I remembered one of the lessons I learned in Primary. Still crying, I kneeled down. I remember I said, ‘Father, I need Thy help, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.’ After that I went back to the machine and tried again, and it worked!
“The next testimony meeting was the first time I gave my testimony in public. I expressed my experience with prayer very simply and sat down. I know that the Lord does hear and answer our prayers.

Once when the missionaries were withdrawn from Mexico, a man named Rafael Monroy called on the mission president, Rey L. Pratt,* to say goodbye.
“President Pratt,” Brother Monroy asked, “what will we do in San Marcos? All of the branches have leaders except San Marcos. No one there has the Melchizedek Priesthood.”
“Brother Rafael,” the president answered, “we will ordain you an elder and set you apart as president of the San Marcos Branch. There you will be responsible to teach the gospel to every member of your little branch.”
President Monroy not only taught the members of his branch, but he also taught his nonmember neighbors and friends. During the time the missionaries were not allowed in Mexico, the San Marcos Branch doubled in number of members. Rafael Monroy eventually was shot and killed because he would not deny the gospel.

43. Feb. 1831 A self-proclaimed prophetess named Mrs. Hubble deceived some Saints with her revelations. The Prophet Joseph inquired of the Lord concerning the matter.

If I close my eyes, I can still see those two young men trying to work under the scalding sun of a Brazilian summer. I approached them and asked, “Are you Mormons?” I had never before seen a pair of missionaries, but since my uncle had been a member for some time, I supposed those two perspiring boys must be from the Church he always talked about.
It was 1970, and I was only 13 years old. I had never seen smiles so bright as when I asked that simple question. We set up a time for the first lesson. My three sisters and I received all of the lessons and were soon baptized.
I cannot forget the care with which those missionaries taught and fellowshipped four young people. They came to get us when we missed church. They visited us often. Why so much concern for us? Would so much effort for these young people be worth anything at all?

I’m home again. Things are not going well. The cancer is back, and Tuesday I’ll be leaving for Minnesota for a bone marrow transplant. I’m not excited about it, but it’s the only hope I have. …
I’ve been in Minnesota for a couple of days now. The doctors have killed most of my diseased bone marrow, and because of that I need blood platelets and white cells. I don’t know anyone here to ask to be a donor, so I had the doctor call the mission president. Within just a few hours—can you believe it!—there were more than eight people here waiting to be typed. My doctor was amazed, and I was just thankful. It isn’t like giving blood. They had to sit by a machine for several hours while their blood was pumped out and stripped of the materials I need.
None of them even knew me, and some of them drove as far as 60 miles to help me. The Church is like a big family for me. I know I can depend on the members for help anytime I need it. It’s a good feeling.
My brother is going to be the donor for my transplant. I’m grateful that his marrow is compatible with mine and grateful he is willing to give it to me. It’s a big sacrifice. I really love him for it.
During the operation they are going to kill the rest of my bone marrow and then give me some of my brother’s healthy marrow. If the transplant doesn’t work, I’m in a little bit of trouble. It’s a chance I have to take. I don’t have a choice, not if I want to live. There is so much I want to do, but if I don’t make it, I’m grateful for what I’ve had. I have so much to be thankful for: my family, my friends, the gospel.
I still don’t know why this has happened to me. I guess it really isn’t important. What I do know is that I must trust in and obey my Father in Heaven. I know that in the end, everything will be all right. One of the beautiful things about the gospel is that no matter what happens to us, as long as we have faith and as long as we are obedient, we have hope. I wouldn’t wish what I have experienced on anyone, but I do wish that everyone could feel what I feel about the beauty of life, about the value of living every day as completely as we can, and most of all, about the beauty and strength the gospel can bring to us.

My beloved sisters, I think my first awareness or consciousness of the existence and the importance of the Relief Society came very early in my life.
My family left Salt Lake City for Arizona when I was three years old. My mother then had six children, and during the time that she went through five more pregnancies and five more births, she was president of the ward Relief Society.
We went to a new land, where water was drawn out of open wells; where flies were so thick you could hardly see out of the screen door in the evening; where typhoid fever was prevalent, and many other diseases, too; where medical help was extremely limited—there were no hospitals, no nurses, and no trained people except the country doctor who had more than he could ever do.
I read in my mother’s journal not long ago such expressions as these: “I left the children with Ruth or Delbert or with Gordon and went to Sister Smith’s home where the second twin had just died and where there were other children desperately ill with typhoid fever.” Again: “Today I spent the day with other sisters making burial clothes for the two children of Sister Jones.” and on and on and on. That was my introduction to Relief Society, and I am sure that to some degree that kind of work is still going forward, for as I understand your work, it includes not only the spiritual and the moral, but also the physical well-being of the people of the ward.

In 1970 my mother was diagnosed with a chronic illness that was shutting down the arteries that fed her brain. She was a particularly bright, elegant, and engaging woman with sparkling eyes. But over the next 13 years, her condition declined. It was like losing a good friend piece by piece.
Dad stepped in to become her primary caregiver. At first he made small sacrifices to make her comfortable and cheerful. He prepared her meals, sang her songs, and held her hand. As time went on, however, caring for my mother became more difficult and more physical. It must have been trying for Dad.
As Mother’s condition worsened, my dad’s own health became a concern. I was there when his doctor told him that Mother needed full-time care in a skilled nursing facility. He would likely die if he continued to give the level of care she required, and then she would have no one to take care of her.
For the last 13 months of my mother’s life, Dad visited her in the nursing facility every day that he was not away on a Church assignment. She didn’t recognize him, but that made no difference to him. He spoke with her as though everything was all right. I would see him return from visiting a stake conference in some far-off place. He would be exhausted. But the first thing he would do when he arrived was go see Mother, to bring what cheer he could.
My father could not have taken better care of my mother. I learned much about sacrifice from watching him take care of her.

One of the touching stories from my time as a corrections officer is when I saw a mother reunite with her children. She hadn’t seen her children for four or five years. You could see in the eyes of the children the tears and the hurt from the years of being apart. The reunion was overwhelming, but as a corrections officer, you don’t show emotion. I found that really hard. I had to actually look away to compose myself and get myself together. Being a mother myself, I couldn’t imagine being away from my children for years and not be able to see them, talk to them, or even share how I’m feeling with them.

To mark the 30-year anniversary of the Church in Cambodia, Elder Renlund met with Cambodia’s prime minister, whom he described as “a remarkable individual.”
The Apostle, a former cardiologist, told the prime minister that the Church of Jesus Christ was donating nearly US $2.2 million so that a cardiac center can be added to a hospital in Siem Reap, located about 200 miles (320 km) north of Phnom Penh, to bring better health care to those like the prime minister’s uncle, who died from an acute coronary syndrome.
Elder Dale G. Renlund shakes hands with Samdech Moha Borvor Thipadei HUN Manet, Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Cambodia, in Phnom Penh on January 22, 2024. The historic meeting represents the first time a Church leader has met with the head of government of the Kingdom of Cambodia.

Some years ago, one of our sons asked me why it wasn’t a good idea to try alcohol or tobacco to see what they were like. He knew about the Word of Wisdom, and he also knew the health effects of these substances, but he was questioning why he shouldn’t just try them out for himself. I replied that if he wanted to try something out, he ought to go to a barnyard and eat a little manure. He recoiled in horror. “Ooh, that’s sickening,” he reacted.
“I’m glad you think so,” I said, “but why don’t you just try it out so you will know for yourself? While you’re proposing to try one thing that you know is not good for you, why don’t you apply that principle to some others?” That illustration of the silliness of “trying it out for yourself” proved persuasive for one sixteen-year-old.

It was my turn to stop someone and talk to them about the Church. I had been in Germany only two days and I was already terrified of the people and my calling as a missionary.
I frantically searched the street for someone I thought might react positively. I wondered how I was ever going to do this for the next 18 months.
I didn’t want my companion to know how scared I was, so I held my breath and walked up to a woman in her early 40s. But instead of asking her the questions I had intended to, I turned from her and ran. The anticipation was more than I could handle—I had to escape.
When I was finally able to collect my thoughts, the embarrassment swelled inside of me and I desperately wanted to hide. My fear had been exposed, and it was preventing me from being a good missionary.
Unfortunately, as the days went by, my fear did not subside, and I began to worry I would never be a happy, brave, and successful missionary. My fear became the main topic of all my private prayers.
Nothing seemed to help until I had been in the mission field about two weeks. It was a chilly spring morning and my companion was making breakfast. I was sitting on the floor looking up scriptures on missionary work and reading them out loud.
“Doctrine and Covenants 84:88,” I said. “And whoso receiveth you, there I will be also.” [D&C 84:88] My voice broke. My mind raced as I realized the support I had as a missionary.
I started again, “And whoso receiveth you, there I will be also, for I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.”
I had no reason to be afraid of teaching people about the gospel. Heavenly Father was on my right hand and on my left, and his angels were around me to make me strong. From that morning on, whenever a wave of fear came over me, I just imagined those angels all around my investigator, my companion, and me. There was no way I could lose with that kind of support.