Gospel Story Finder

During the past year I’ve become friends with a young woman who belongs to another faith. As we became better friends, I felt like I needed to share the gospel with her. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, because I’d had a bad experience with another friend I had tried to share the gospel with. But I repeatedly felt the promptings of the Spirit and decided I needed to follow through.
I began inviting my friend over to my house to spend time with my family and to feel the Spirit. I know that it was the strength of my family and the spirit in our home that made her want to know more about the Church, because she soon wanted to know why we were so happy. After a few weeks, I gave her a Book of Mormon with my testimony written in the front. She has since begun attending church in her area and was even asked to give a talk recently!
This young woman has been such an example of strength to me. It has been incredible to talk to her and hear her say that she has a sure faith in our Heavenly Father. She knows that if she does what is right, her family will be blessed and may feel the Spirit as she does.
Having seen someone take the first steps on the path to conversion, I now see just how blessed we are to have the priesthood, the temple, and all of the other blessings that come with the gospel. It excites me to share those blessings with others, and I can’t wait to do so as a missionary of the Lord.

BYU–Pathway was also an important part of Kimika Blake’s journey to a degree. A university education in her home country of Jamaica is expensive, so she was excited to learn about BYU–Pathway’s low-cost tuition and enrolled. “There were many challenges along the way,” she said. “However, I am grateful for the lessons I have learned about finding joy in the journey and enduring well.”
Kimika graduated with a bachelor’s degree in applied business management in 2022 and looks forward to pursuing a master’s degree and entrepreneurship in the future. “I am a better disciple of Jesus Christ,” she said. “As I go forth with faith, I know many doors will be opened.”

The way I motivated myself to do Personal Progress was to set a goal for when I would finish it. I wanted to get it done before my 16th birthday. Having that goal gave me something to shoot for and helped me pace myself. I was able to get it done two months before my birthday. So, my advice is: set a goal and work toward it.
Shirley H., 16, Arizona, USA

Sure I had a testimony. Or did I? I prayed, read the scriptures (most days), and went to church, but did I really have a personal testimony of Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon? These thoughts filled my mind when a stake leader asked me to join some of the other stake youth in a special project.
Project? What kind of project?
I quickly learned that each participant would need to read the Book of Mormon for a month, and then we would all tell about our experiences. It didn’t sound too bad until I learned we would be filmed so the stake leaders could share a video of our testimonies with the youth in each ward.
Every ward in the stake would see this?
I decided being videotaped would be way better than having to talk in front of huge groups of people in each ward. So I agreed. Each day, I curled up cozily to read at least one chapter in the Book of Mormon. As the days whizzed by, I realized I loved this book. The Book of Mormon came alive with new depth and vitality. Near the end of the project, I read Moroni 10:3–5. I wanted to know the truth, and I had faith to receive it.
That night when all was quiet, I knelt to ask God to know if the Book of Mormon is true. As I prayed, I felt encircled by a peaceful warmth. I knew without a doubt that the Book of Mormon is the word of God. This book became as true and as real as the stars I see glistening in the sky. What a powerful testimony this experience became in my life!
The time arrived for the leaders and invited youth to meet together. We came fasting to help bring the Spirit into our meeting. When it was my turn, I rose to speak. My testimony of the Book of Mormon had not come in a sudden burst of light or some other dramatic display. It had arrived more simply. The same peace and warmth I had felt when I prayed about the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon came over me again. I stood and bore testimony of the sacred pages I had read; I knew the Book of Mormon is true.

The day the Laurels went camping along the Colorado River, I had an important announcement to make. I had decided to begin meeting with the missionaries. As my new friends exclaimed in delight, I interrupted, cautioning them not to expect too much. “I’m not getting baptized or anything like that. I just need a more organized way to learn about your beliefs.” My friends smiled at each other knowingly.
As the weekend progressed, I found that just being in an LDS environment was educational. The first thing I noticed was that Mormons prayed more than any other church people I had met; and in my search for religion, I had met many of nearly every faith. Their prayers were different. They had no book of prayers, like the one my grandmother had owned. They just talked to God. They lived what they learned in church, too. This was no Sunday religion. It was all day, every day, and I liked that.
In the evening, we spread out our sleeping bags and admired the billions of stars in the sky. Some of the girls began asking me questions. How had I been introduced to the Church? Where had I gone to church before? How did I feel about what I was learning?
I didn’t know how to answer that last question. How could I describe my confusion without hurting their feelings? No other church had affected me this way. I had spent hours sorting through LDS doctrines, trying to guess which ones were true. I had always hated guessing. I wanted to know the truth. But there was no research method to prove the Church one way or another. I sighed. “It’s hard,” I admitted. “Everything you teach is so different, and it’s going to take a while to know what’s true.”
“I know what’s true,” one girl said quietly. Then she bore her testimony, confidently, without embarrassment.
I felt that feeling again—the feeling I had felt when I was ten and heard the story of the First Vision while visiting the Los Angeles Temple. It was also the feeling I felt when I heard an especially moving lesson. I didn’t know what the feeling meant, but I suspected it was important. Suddenly, more than anything, I wanted to know, to really know and not just to guess.
“You said you know these things. How do you know?” I asked.
“I’ve prayed about them. You’ve learned about Joseph Smith, haven’t you? About how he was searching for truth and went into the grove to pray?”
I nodded. “Yes, and I’ve tried to pray, but God isn’t going to come down and tell me the answers.”
“Well, probably not, but he doesn’t have to come down in person in order to talk to us. He talks to us all the time. All we have to do is learn how to listen.”
I sat up, interested. “I’ve prayed before, and other churches have told me God answers prayers, but no one ever told me how. You mean I can ask him if your church is true, and he’ll tell me?”
“Of course. That’s how I did it.”
I was amazed. “If it’s that easy, you would think everyone would join your church.”
My friends laughed. Then they began teaching me how to get a testimony. A few months later, I had my answers. And just after my 17th birthday, I was baptized. They were right. All I had to do was listen.

President Kimball spoke under this special influence for an hour and ten minutes. It was a message totally unlike any other in my experience. I realized that it was similar to the occasion on the 8th of August, 1844, when Brigham Young spoke to the Saints in Nauvoo following the death of the Prophet Joseph. Sidney Rigdon had returned from Pittsburgh, where he had apostatized, to try to capture the Church. Many people testified, however, that as Brigham Young arose, the power of the Lord rested upon him to the extent that he was transfigured before them, with the appearance and the voice of Joseph Smith. That moment was decisive in the history of the Church, and the occasion of April 4, 1974, is parallel.

Recently our family was viewing what was supposed to be a wholesome movie on videotape. Suddenly, one of the actors used a vulgar expression. Embarrassed, we began to smooth this over for our ten-year-old daughter. She quickly assured us that we needn’t worry because she heard worse than that every day from the boys and girls at her school.

When I was 19 I was called up to the Swedish army. As an artillery signalist, I served in the Eighth Company’s staff and leading platoon.

At 4:00 one January morning, our officers ordered us to get dressed with full equipment and gather outside in 20 minutes. Tired and hungry from the previous day’s activities, I felt like I had barely closed my eyes, and here I was again preparing to confront a new test. I still remember how it felt, stepping from the warmth of the barracks into an indescribable cold.

A huge military bus arrived to pick us up, and we were told we were going to Stockholm for a big test to see if we were qualified to continue our training. Arriving in the city, we were divided into three groups, with different maps and separate destinations.

We walked the streets of Stockholm, fully equipped with weapons, ammunition, and other gear. At each checkpoint we were required to perform a physical test, such as hostage confrontation, street battle, running through tunnels and buildings, and first aid treatment. After every test we barely had time to rest before moving on to the next checkpoint.

The freezing asphalt made my feet numb, and my shoulders ached from the heavy equipment. But I kept going and tried not to complain. Our group experienced bitter weather and difficult trials, but we were still marching as brothers. Along the route, we encountered shocked civilians who laughed, pointed fingers, and shouted at us.

I was tired, cold, dirty, and in pain when we reached our final destination and the bus picked us up. During the trip back to the base, I reflected on the trials my platoon and I had endured and asked myself if this training was worth anything besides the medals awarded at the conclusion. I asked myself if anyone else besides us had gone through trials as we had that day.

Suddenly, I thought of the hardships and sacrifice of the pioneers of the early days of the Church. I recalled the stories of their hunger, cold, and pain; of being mocked; and of walking endless miles—the same things I had experienced that day. The big difference is that I had to endure this for only one day. The pioneers traveled in cold and snow, rain and heat, walking through mud and dust. They walked with little material security, having only faith that the Lord would protect them. The pioneers walked to find Zion because the Lord had a marvelous work for these members to perform.

Suddenly, without thinking, I started to sing “Come, Come, Ye Saints” (Hymns, no. 30), and right there on the bus I started to feel a difference within me. A great warmth and happiness flowed through my body. I was not active in the Church at that time and I had thought I would never come back, but suddenly a feeling came over me saying, “Come back to church.”

When I got to the base, I called my parents and told them I loved them and wanted to go back to church. The following Sunday was a huge test for me to see if I had the courage to return because I had been away for so long. Going back wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. My family and the other members helped me feel welcome.

I began to prepare to serve a mission and two years later received a mission call to serve in the Cape Verde Praia Mission. When I arrived in Salt Lake City on my way to the Missionary Training Center, I saw the marvelous work performed by the pioneers in building a magnificent temple and planning a beautiful city. I said softly, “Thank you.”

Today, when I ask myself if that military test was worth anything, I answer that it was, in every way, because in that moment of great insight on a bus with a platoon of fellow soldiers, I realized how important the work of the Lord is. It was worth it because I came back to the Lord and am now doing His work and His will.

“You’re crazy,” they said, “to aim for the stars.
The stars are much, much too high.”
“You’re silly!” they shouted. “Look at yourself;
You’re human, you can’t even fly.”
And so as I jumped and sprang and leaped,
Laughing they all stood around.
I did not reach the stars, as they said,
But at least my feet left the ground.

In Jamaica, as in many other parts of the world, missionaries ride bicycles to carry out the Lord’s work. But bicycles often break down and parts wear out. And there are often delays in obtaining parts and having repairs made. Again, the solution was obvious—teach and baptize the bicycle repairman. At last report, he was responding to the missionaries’ friendship and testimonies.

I should like to give you another example. One of our most respected community-minded citizens began to act as though his feelings had been hurt and to stay away from socials where, in the past, he had gone and taken a most active part. People started accusing him of being a sorehead, a poor sport, antisocial, etc., and even evaded him whenever possible. Later, a medical diagnosis showed he was suffering from a brain tumor, which had been the cause of his lack of interest in activities that he had previously attended and even sponsored.

Young people desiring to serve missions often face many challenges. This was the case for six missionaries who were not able to attain visas and travel to one of the numerous missionary training centers found in the Americas.
Four of them, Thierry Birocher, Rosylove Charles, Jennyfer Augustin, and Landy Dorce had been living in Santo Domingo and were called to serve in the Dominican Republic. The other two, Rosebelle Fanfan and Marie Jacques were living in Port-au-prince, Haiti and had received their calls to Boston, Massachusetts but were reassigned to the Dominican Republic due to visa complications.
With six missionaries not able to travel to an MTC and prepare properly for their missions, the Caribbean Area Presidency was led to resolve this problem by creating a temporary, mini-missionary training center located in the Caribbean Area offices. The three sister missionaries living in the Dominican Republic moved out of their homes and into the temple patron housing, located next to the Santo Domingo Temple.
Elder Birocher moved in with the office elders of the Santo Domingo East Mission, and Sisters Fanfan and Jacques left their homes in Haiti and participated in the mini-MTC from the Haiti, Port-au-Prince mission offices.
Although housed in various Church offices in Santo Domingo and Port-au-Prince, the six missionaries received their training virtually from the Mexico City Missionary Training Center through two amazing instructors, Gregory Jeaboin and Josue Derival.
On weekends, each missionary was assigned to a companionship of full-time missionaries to live and work with. This experience gave them real-life missionary opportunities and grew their enthusiasm for the work that they would soon be doing.

I hated collecting fast offerings. The very idea of doing it made me shiver. Collecting fast offerings was a chore and one I thought was a waste of time, though I never really understood why I had to do it. I didn’t even know what fast offerings were used for.
As a deacon in my ward, I had the “route” which took me by my house and up an adjoining street, full of various houses. There was one home I always noticed. In this house resided a man I knew only as Brother Nichols. As a Blazer in Primary, I was once assigned to visit his house along with the rest of my group to bring him cookies and talk. But other than that, I never saw him.
Brother Nichols was an older fellow, a widower whose wife had died a couple of years earlier, who now lived in secrecy. His yard had decayed, and his home seemed to have died as well. The inside was filled with old black-and-white photographs of him and his wife. Brother Nichols had been a skier in Utah for many years, and he had plenty of what I considered boring stories to tell.
I never saw him at church, and every time I came to his house during my fast offering route, I would either pass his house completely or ring the bell once and hope he didn’t answer.
One Sunday, I felt particularly good. I decided that I would visit every house I was assigned to visit so that everyone would have a chance to donate fast offerings—even Brother Nichols.
When I got to Brother Nichols’s home, I rang the doorbell. No response. I tried at least three or four times, but nobody answered. As I started to walk away, I heard the door open. There was Brother Nichols.
I greeted him with a warm smile and began an attempt to converse with him.
“Hello, Brother Nichols. I’m here to collect fast offerings.”
“Why, hello young man,” he responded. “Nice of you to stop by.”
I wondered if he knew I had skipped his house on occasion and not cared to see if he was home. I decided that I would repent and become friends with him.
Brother Nichols placed a meager amount of money in the envelope, and I thanked him, giving him a smile and telling him to have a nice day.
This continued for two more months. During each visit with him, the conversations were longer, and I soon felt I could ask him to come to church with no trouble.
“Brother Nichols, you know, I haven’t ever seen you at church.”
“Ah, well, I haven’t ever had the interest …”
“Brother Nichols,” I interrupted, “please come once or you’ll regret it.”
He agreed, and sure enough, the following week, Brother Nichols came to church. He was smiling and he looked great. I thanked him for coming, and he thanked me for the invitation. I could tell by the look in his eyes that the Spirit was with him and his warm hand-shake filled me with the Holy Ghost as well. Throughout the entire meeting he smiled, and the messages from the speakers were fantastic. I was proud that I had brought this man to church, and I knew God was proud of me.
I never knew why I felt so good until a few days later when I found out that Brother Nichols had died. He was now with his wife and with the truth of the gospel which he had experienced.
I felt the Spirit strongly for the next few weeks, and I knew what it meant to be a deacon, to hold the Aaronic Priesthood and act in the name of the Lord. I also learned to not treat the responsibility of collecting fast offerings as a burden. Most importantly, I learned a bit more about the power of the truth of the gospel.

In my profession, I am involved with selling—and at times installing—satellite dishes for homes to view various television channels from the broadcaster of their choice. This takes a little bit of knowledge of the industry and skill to install the equipment. Let me explain how this happens with a less technical explanation.
As we cannot physically see the satellite in orbit from earth with our naked eyes, aligning the dish perfectly with the satellite may seem impossible. One must have a basic knowledge that there is a satellite parked in orbit at a specific location, have the correct satellite dish, and have the correct installation tools in order to properly install the equipment. All these are necessary to receive the correct signal from the correct satellite.
As there are literally hundreds of satellites in orbit, aiming the dish at the correct satellite takes knowledge and skill. The satellite dish has to be perfectly aligned with the satellite in orbit so as to receive maximum signal strength and quality. Otherwise, the viewer will not be able to receive the desired television channels which the broadcaster uplinks to the satellite. This takes some precise movement of the dish from left to right and from up to down. To make this process more effective and accurate, we use a device called a satellite field strength meter.
This instrument when used correctly, and while adjusting the satellite dish toward the desired satellite, will indicate whether our signal strength is increasing or decreasing. The more we align the dish correctly to the satellite, the more our signal strength and quality increases until we get what is called “the sweet spot.” This means we have achieved the maximum signal quality and strength that the satellite transponder has to offer.
When signal strength is strong, it prevents signal loss during bad weather. But when a satellite dish is not aligned correctly—and heavy rains and storms come—signal strength decreases and we lose our signal from the satellite in orbit.
Sometimes the satellite dish may be flawlessly installed—with perfect signal strength and quality—but the installer may fail to secure it tightly. Then, when strong winds blow, the dish may shift a few degrees from the “sweet spot” and again, the signal is lost.

Chris Poll, on the other hand, asks, “See myself as a leader when I first came up here? No, I didn’t. I was nowhere near that type. But now I can see it. I can do it.”

“Here’s the ball, Apollo,” Matt called to his golden retriever. “Now go and get it, boy!” He threw the ball, and Apollo ran and caught it in his mouth. Matt always had fun playing ball with Apollo. His dog had been his favorite companion ever since they got him as a puppy two years ago.
“Matt, it’s time for dinner,” his mother called from the porch. “So just one more throw.”
“OK, Mom.” Matt threw the ball so hard it rolled into the street. Without looking, Apollo immediately chased after it and was hit by an oncoming car.
Quickly, Matt and his mom ran to where Apollo lay. “He’s really hurt, Matt,” Mom said. “We need to take him to the vet right now.”
Matt’s dad and older brother rushed outside. They lifted Apollo and placed him in their car. At the veterinarian’s office, Dr. Maxfield took Apollo into the examination room. Matt and his parents sat in the waiting area.
“Can we say a prayer to help Apollo?” Matt asked his parents as tears streamed down his face.
Dad nodded. They bowed their heads and prayed to Heavenly Father, asking that Apollo would be healed. When they were finished Matt’s tears were gone and he felt much better. He was sure Heavenly Father would help Apollo.
Finally Dr. Maxfield came in. Matt jumped up and ran to him. “Is Apollo better now? Can I go see him?”
“I’m really sorry, Matt,” Dr. Maxfield said. “Your dog was badly hurt. I did all I could to help him, but he died.”
Apollo was dead! Matt put his hands over his eyes and sobbed.
Later that night, Matt couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. “Dad, why didn’t Heavenly Father answer my prayer? I prayed that Apollo would be healed. I knew that Heavenly Father could do it.” Matt wiped his eyes.
“Heavenly Father answers all prayers,” Dad said. “He answered yours too—just not in the way you wanted.”
“But, Dad, He didn’t answer my prayer. Apollo died.”
“But how did Heavenly Father answer my prayer if Apollo died?” Matt asked.
“Before you prayed you were really sad. How did you feel after?”
“A lot better—like everything would be all right.”
“Heavenly Father knew you would be very sad when Apollo died, so He sent His Spirit to comfort you,” Dad said. “That’s one way we can know that Heavenly Father loves us all.”
“Even Apollo?”
“Yes, even Apollo.”

“I remember as a young father hearing Elder Richard L. Evans (1906–71) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles say, ‘Hobbies none, just my sons.’ That was a lesson to me that I needed to first pay attention to my family.”

When Sister Irene Ericksen of Salt Lake City was baptized in her twenties, the cleansing from sin also included a feeling of healing. “Before I joined the Church, I had little awareness of the sins I had committed. But I was experiencing the result of sin, which was pain. When I was baptized, I felt a washing away of that pain.”

Elder Perry had a lifelong gift for making friends. When he worked in New York, USA, as a retail executive, he thought his fellow commuters seemed unfriendly. So he decided to shake things up.
One man always stood on the same platform location to wait for the train. He also picked the same seat on the train every day.
To build a friendship, Elder Perry showed up early several days in a row to grab those spots before the man could. At first the man was irritated, but before long, the two were laughing and it turned into a game—a game the whole train station eventually enjoyed as more and more commuters joined in. In time they all grew so close that they sang Christmas carols together at the station. “It livened up the whole platform,” Elder Perry remembered.

Dave, 27, had long dreamed of going into advertising. His father was an excellent graphic designer in Los Angeles. Dave would spend hours talking to his father about the business. He would help with pasteups and layouts. He had a natural eye and quickly developed the skills to be a fine designer. When he went to BYU, he tried to find a company willing to hire him, but he had no luck. So he decided to see if he could create his own job.
He contacted a printing shop and found they occasionally needed design work. He visited companies he thought would benefit by his artistic talents. He found school organizations and clubs willing to pay for a flyer or poster. He also found companies needing an artist for advertisements and other business needs. Soon Dave was very busy, and the work he was doing helped his schoolwork, too.
After graduation, Dave went to work for a major advertising agency.