Gospel Story Finder

We can each be blessed and happy in our own lives if we keep our baptismal covenants and follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost. Since we all make mistakes, the Holy Ghost will prompt us to repent. Eight-year-old Stacie Brook Peck of Payson, Utah, was taking part in a competition. A coach told her to tell the judges that she had sewn the letters on her costume herself, though she had not. She obeyed the coach but felt so bad about lying that she told her mom what had happened.

“Mom asked me if I wanted to find a judge and tell him about the lie. I thought about it a long time. I felt very sad and scared. I thought the judges would get mad at me. I thought my team would be mad because the judge would have to take points off our score. However, telling a lie felt so horrible that I said yes.

“We told my coach about my decision. She felt really bad that an eight-year-old girl had to remind her that honesty was more important than winning.

“My coach came with us. When we found a judge and told him about my lie, he said that he would do something about it. I never found out what the penalty was, but my team still won first place and I was glad of that. But mostly I was happy because I had made the right choice, even though it was very hard. I know that it was the Holy Ghost who helped me to choose the right. I also know that Heavenly Father has forgiven me, because whenever I think about what I did, instead of being embarrassed, I am happy that I chose the right. I feel good inside, and I want to always choose the right.”

You may have heard recently of changes to U.S. policy in Cuba. Two weeks before Christmas, I received a call from the White House on a Monday, asking if I could be at Andrews Air Force Base at 4:30 AM that Wednesday for a covert mission. Would I ever! This Senate stuff had been a bit boring lately. I wasn’t allowed to tell Cheryl or anyone where I was going. My staff assumed I was flying back to Arizona.

At Andrews Air Force Base, I was joined by Democratic Senator Pat Leahy and Congressman Van Hollen, and we boarded a plane. Our mission was to fly to Cuba and pick up an American contractor, Alan Gross, who had been held for five years in a Cuban prison. Another plane took off just after we left the tarmac, also bound for Cuba. Its mission was to pick up an American asset, a spy who had been held for 20 years in a Cuban prison. A third plane would soon depart from Miami, carrying three Cuban spies who had been held in a U.S. prison.

This complicated spy swap was highly choreographed. All three planes had to land and take off within minutes of each other at separate airfields near Havana. Our plane was on the ground for exactly 31 minutes before taking off with our cargo, the freed American, Alan Gross. We sped back to Washington. Minutes after we landed, President Obama made a public statement at the same time Raul Castro made a public statement in Cuba, announcing a path to normalized relations between the two countries.

The following day I received a call from President Obama to talk about the way forward with Cuba. Two minutes later, my phone rang again with a more exciting call: it was Elder Holland, thrilled about new opportunities for religious freedom on the island.

Just two weeks ago, a senior LDS missionary couple arrived in Cuba to act as “branch builders,” the first LDS Church officials allowed by the Cuban Government to stay on the island for an extended period of time.

I can’t help but think that going forward, the powerful example a handful of believers in Cuba will lead to many, many more believers in Cuba.

I was ordained a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood in a tiny branch of the Church. There was only one family in the branch. We had no chapel. We met in our house. I was the only deacon and my brother the only teacher.
So I know what it is like to exercise the priesthood alone, without serving with others in a quorum. I was content in that small branch without a quorum. I had no way to know what I was missing. And then my family moved across a continent to where there were many priesthood holders and strong quorums.

We are twins who like to read the Friend together. We read a story in the October 2010 Friend about President Monson’s Sunday School class giving their party fund to a classmate whose mother had died. Shortly after, we found out that the child of one of our relatives passed away. Our mom was sending a sympathy card. We remembered President Monson’s story, so we both put some of our birthday money in the card. It felt good to follow the prophet’s example and help someone who was sad.

My grandfather, Elizio Antônio Honório, had suffered a stroke and was very ill in a hospital in Brazil. The doctors said he had only a small chance of surviving. When I learned of this, I went to my room and asked Heavenly Father what I should do. As I knelt, I felt the presence of the Holy Ghost more powerfully than I ever had before. When I ended my prayer, I felt I should speak with my bishop, so I went to see him.
Though my grandfather is not a member of the Church, I asked the bishop to give him a priesthood blessing. I explained, “I believe in the power of the priesthood, and I believe the Lord can heal him. The Lord has prompted me to ask for this blessing.”
We went to the hospital, and the bishop gave my grandfather a blessing. The following day I visited my grandfather and found him seated on a chair conversing with one of my aunts. He was much improved.
I know this is truly the Church of Jesus Christ. I know the priesthood can bless us if we have faith in its divine power.

One of my earliest memories of sacrament meeting occurred when I was probably 3 or 4 years old. As a kid I loved to actively participate in Church meetings as much as I could. This meant that when we were asked to sustain someone in a new calling, I loved to raise my hand when everyone else did. One Sunday, I was not paying attention as members were called and sustained. In fact, as I recall, I was playing on the floor instead of sitting in my seat. On this particular Sunday my family was sitting almost in the very back of the chapel, in the overflow area. The leader who was conducting read out the name of someone who had been called and asked for the sustaining vote. I didn’t realize what was happening until everyone had already lowered their hands. At that point, the leader asked, “Are there any opposed?” I did not know what that word meant, but wanting to participate and feeling disappointed that I missed the first time that hands were raised, I quickly climbed onto my seat, stood as tall as I could, threw my hand as high as I could and shouted, “I do!” While most everyone found it humorous, I could tell from my parents’ reactions that I had done something that I shouldn’t have. I was inexperienced and I lacked understanding. I did not understand how things really were – despite my feeling of confidence that I did. Before I got lost in Little Brush Creek Cave, I had complete confidence that I knew where I was going.

“Are you crazy?” Erroll Bennett’s father raged when he heard of his son’s intention to join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. “Have you gone mad? You’ll have to give up everything—everything you’ve worked for. You can’t possibly know what you’re doing!”
Waving aside his son’s protestations, he insisted: “If you do this, I don’t want to know you. Take everything in this house that belongs to you and don’t ever set foot across this door again.”
Driving with his wife to his parents’ home that evening in 1977, pondering how he would break the news, Erroll reflected on the recent events that had begun to change his life so dramatically.
Yet none of this pressure had been as difficult to cope with as the prospect of facing his own father, whom he loved and respected deeply, and who was passionately proud of his son’s sporting accomplishments.
To hear Brother Bennett recreate the scene today is to recognize that the experience touched him deeply. He had always been close to his parents, but now his father was adamant. “You have erected a wall between us. I want no more to do with you.” And, he added, he would not want to see his son’s third child—the baby his wife was then expecting.
Erroll and his wife left his parents’ home that evening in tears, desperately unhappy, yet knowing they could not reject the gospel. The depth of their conviction would now have to prove equal to whatever pressures were brought to bear.
Erroll’s first action, though he still was not a member, was to seek out his friend, Bishop Terooatea, for counsel. The footballer fondly recalls how the bishop listened, then urged Erroll to make the first step in reconciliation, to put aside the question of baptism until he had made this final attempt. He then explained the principle of priesthood blessings and of how priesthood authority could be used to help him.
That evening, Erroll received a priesthood blessing for the first time, with longtime LDS friend and fellow soccer enthusiast Noel Tarati acting as voice. Brother Tarati quietly promised Erroll that the difficult problem would be resolved, and that his father would receive him if he returned, even though some strong things had been said.
The next day, Erroll again drove out to his father’s home. As he approached the house, he could see his father standing by the gate to the front garden. There were tears in his eyes. “I want you to forgive me, Erroll,” he said. “I couldn’t sleep last night for thinking about it. If you hadn’t come here first, I would have come to you.”
Then he continued: “You know that thousands of people will be disappointed in you. It will mean the end of your career if you won’t play on Sundays. You know that Napoléon Spitz isn’t going to change the entire football league schedule just to accommodate you. Still, this is your decision. All I ask is that you don’t raise the subject again. It’s closed.”

Joseph also came down with typhus fever, and the infection spread to his leg. Caring for her children had drained Mother Smith, and she became very sick herself. Hyrum took care of his younger brother to help his mother. He stayed with Joseph night and day. He would hold his brother’s leg between his hands, pressing on it to help ease the pain. Joseph’s own faith and the faith of his family helped him endure the terrible pain when the operation on his leg took place. Perhaps it was that time from feeling Hyrum’s loving companionship that Joseph and Hyrum began a wonderful companionship and bond that lasted through the end of their lives.

Following two years of investigation into the Church, Brigham was baptized in a creek that flowed through a nearby woods. It was a bitterly cold day in April 1832. Those participating in the ceremony could hardly see because of a heavy snowfall. Seated on a log, his wet clothes freezing on him, Brigham was confirmed a member of the Church and ordained an elder. He later said, “As I sat there I felt the sweet spirit of the Holy Ghost witnessing that my sins were forgiven.” His wife Miriam was baptized a week later, just a few months before her death of tuberculosis. After her death, Brigham and Miriam’s two daughters, Elizabeth and Vilate, were taken into the home of Heber and Vilate Kimball.

One week, I decided to declare a holiday from practicing the piano. My piano teacher did not authorize this holiday and neither did my mom. For a full week I didn’t practice. I thought it was great because I had a good time relaxing and doing other things.
The fun stopped on Thursday night, when my mom reminded me that my piano lesson was the next morning. I thought I had a solution: I woke up an hour earlier and started to practice. But I realized that my efforts were too little, too late. I had enjoyed the freedom to choose, but I hadn’t considered the consequences.
The next morning when I met with my teacher, the consequences started to unfold. I had to admit that I hadn’t practiced, and my teacher told me I should make up all the practice time I missed, in addition to my regular practice time.
I am grateful for the lessons I learned about agency, responsibility, and accountability. Every choice has a consequence, and I learned that I will make better decisions if I take time to consider the consequences first.
Blake H., Utah, USA

Aunt Jennie gave me a scrapbook for my birthday. The cover is red with “My Book of Remembrance” written on the front. The pages inside are thick and gray.
I decided to put the supplies I need to work on my scrapbook in a box. I put in markers, scissors, glue, and tape.
Mom is helping me fill my book with things about me.
On the first page I glued a picture of me, and I wrote my name below it. Then I wrote, “My eyes are green. My hair is brown. I am six years old.”
On the next page I glued a special letter Grandma sent me. It is the first letter I ever received.
Last month I made a card for my dad. I colored purple flowers all around it. Dad said I could glue it in my book.
On another page I drew a picture of my mom, dad, brother, our pet cat, and me. I added a photo of the whole family and wrote, “We are a family.”
Mom helped me find a picture of the temple to glue in my book. I want to remember that we can be together forever.
I drew a picture of my house and the tree I like to climb. I also wrote my address and phone number.
If you read my book of remembrance, you will learn lots of things about me. You can fill a book with things about you too. When people read it, they will learn about your history!

After my family and I moved to a new state, I prayed constantly to find friends with whom I could talk about the gospel. As I prayed, I felt comforted, and a few months later I made some incredible friends. I can count on their support, and they have helped me to develop an even greater love for the gospel. I know that friends are important and they can make it easier for us to live the gospel.
Sarah P., age 16, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Liriel was baptized at age 14 after being introduced to the Church by her older sister, Patricia, who lived in another part of the country.

“She invited us to church while visiting home one time,” Liriel says. “The people were spiritual and neatly dressed. They all had standards that I liked. I was very happy. I felt the power of the Holy Ghost working in my heart. I was hungry for the gospel of Jesus Christ.”

Not long after their introduction to the Church, Liriel and her younger sister Priscila were baptized. Their mother later followed. Liriel and Priscila jumped wholeheartedly into the Young Women program.

“Lots of times we were in the same class, and we were very united,” Liriel says. “We’d reach one Personal Progress goal and then talk about working toward our next goal.”

Before long, Liriel had earned the Young Womanhood Recognition—the medallion she would wear in front of millions. To her, the medallion represented her desire to follow the Savior.

“Earning my Young Women medallion was an accomplishment,” she says. “To me it means that I am spiritually prepared for temple marriage and a family.”

I would like to tell you about a group of loud young men who came into my life when I was a young bishop in Seoul, Korea, many years ago. These were boys who lived in the neighborhood. Only one or two of them were members of the Church at the time. The boys who were members were the only members in their family. They were all friends, and they came to the church to play and to be together. They liked to play Ping-Pong during the weekdays, and they liked to have fun activities on Saturdays. Most of them were not good students in school and were considered by many to be troublemakers.
I was a young father of two sons, who were seven and nine years old at the time. I did not know what I could do for these young men. They were so rowdy that once my wife, Bon-Kyoung, asked me if we could move to another ward so that our sons could see good examples from other young men. I pondered and prayed to Heavenly Father to help me to find the way to help these young men. Finally I made the decision to try and teach them how they could change their lives.
A vision came upon my mind very clearly. I felt that if they were to become missionaries, their lives would be changed. From that moment on, I became very excited, and I tried to spend as much time as possible with them, teaching them the importance of missionary service and how to prepare for a mission.
At that time, Elder Seo, a full-time missionary, was transferred to our ward. He was one who had grown up in the Church and as an Aaronic Priesthood youth had participated in a young men’s singing group with his friends. He met those boisterous boys in our ward. Elder Seo taught those who were not members the missionary discussions, and he also taught them the songs he used to sing. He made a triple quartet with those loud boys and named them the Hanaro Quartet, which means “be as one.” They were happy to sing together, but we all needed “big” patience when we listened to their singing.
Our home was open to the members anytime they wanted to visit. The boys visited our home almost every weekend and even on some weekdays. We fed them and taught them. We taught them the principles of the gospel as well as the application of the gospel in their lives. We tried to give them a vision of their future life.
They sang together every time they came to our home. Their loud sound hurt our ears. But we always praised them because listening to them sing was far more enjoyable than seeing them get into trouble.
Through the years these activities continued. Most of these young men matured in the gospel, and a miracle happened. Over time, nine of the boys who were not members were baptized. They changed from loud, rowdy boys into valiant stripling warriors.
They served missions, met beautiful young sisters in the Church, and married in the temple. Of course, there were different challenges for each of them as they served missions, attended school, and got married, but they all stayed faithful because they wanted to obey their leaders and please the Lord. Now they have happy families with children born in the covenant.
Nine loud boys have become 45 active members in the Lord’s kingdom, including their wives and children. They are now leaders in their wards and stakes. One is a bishop, two serve in bishoprics, one is serving on the high council, and two are Young Men presidents. There is a ward mission leader, an executive secretary, and a seminary teacher. As a group, they still sing together, and the other miracle—they actually sound good!
Now, we have three of our own sons, including our youngest, who was born during the time I served as bishop. As our sons grew, those nine boys became the leaders of the ward and the stake, and they became the teachers and leaders of our sons. They taught our boys and other boys in the same way I taught them when they were troublemakers. They loved our young boys in the same way I loved them. These loud, rowdy boys of the past became our children’s heroes. Our sons liked to follow their great examples of becoming wonderful missionaries and getting married to righteous companions in the temple.

After another busy week, Elder Hutchinson, from the Merthyr Tydfil Stake, reported “I spent ten hours doing a service project in my stake, for the charity Save The Children. This meant I helped collect, load and unload lots of food items on to and off of a van ready to put into food parcels for children that had free school meals over half term. My body ached after, but it was worth it. I was physically exhausted, but it is always good to do a service project like this and to learn a little about how the Saviour served.”

It was early in the morning, and I sat in our small apartment trying to study. I had been serving as a missionary in Atlanta, Georgia, for the past six months. The first few months of my mission had been good, but that morning I felt hopeless and discouraged. I had been transferred to a hard area, and we were not teaching many people. We would go from door to door, day after day, but with little success.
As I tried to read my scriptures, my mind wandered. “Why do I have to serve in this area?” “Why is it so hard?” “What are we doing wrong?” There were so many questions going through my mind, but I did not know the answers. I only knew that I was ready to quit.
I sighed and tried to return to my studies, but it was no use. “What’s the point?” I thought. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone to teach in this area anyway.”
In desperation I knelt and began to pray. I had read in the scriptures about crying to God, but I did not really understand what it meant until that moment. I prayed hard and fervently, pouring out my heart. I asked God to help me get through my mission and to help us have success. I asked Him to help me so I would not be discouraged and to give me the strength to go on. I asked Him to help me study, because I knew I could gain something from the passages of scripture I was trying to read.
I closed my prayer and tried to read again. This time the scriptures opened up to me, and I felt intrigued by the story I was reading. It was in Alma 26. I realized the story was about missionary work. Aaron and Ammon were missionaries who had challenges that were more severe than what I was experiencing. They were put in prison, beaten, laughed at, threatened with their lives, and condemned for their beliefs. Their faith was tried also. They did not give up. Instead, they were faithful and strong through all their trials. I then realized that if Ammon and Aaron could endure all their trials, then I could endure mine too.
I read more of the story and saw the blessings that Ammon and Aaron received. They saw thousands of people experience a change of heart, repent, and be baptized. Their trials eventually brought them indescribable joy.
When I finished reading the chapter, I noticed a plaque that hung on the wall above our desk. It read, “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13). I had never really noticed that plaque until then. Reading the verse left me with a wonderful feeling. Christ was my strength because He knew what I was going through. He suffered all things. He even knew what it was like to be a discouraged, frightened young missionary serving in Georgia.
After I went through the trials, I did see the blessings. We were teaching one woman who was truly prepared to receive the gospel. She told us she wanted to be baptized. I grew to love her as a daughter of God, and when I saw her baptism, I felt the same joy that Aaron and Ammon felt—pure, indescribable joy.
Throughout my mission I saw many others come into the gospel. I saw miracles. I never forgot that scripture: “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” Whenever I felt discouraged or afraid, I would think about that scripture and remember that Christ was my strength and that He would not leave me alone. I knew that with Christ on my side as my strength, I could do all things.

Matthew said goodnight to his mom and dad and started up the stairs. But before he closed the door to his room, he heard his father say, “I’m sure tired. It’s been a long day.”
Why does Dad always think it’s been such a long day? wondered Matthew. There just weren’t enough daylight hours to do all that he wanted. Darkness, quickly followed by bedtime, always came too soon.
The next morning his father greeted him at the breakfast table. “Son, how would you like to go with me on a business trip? You could ask your friend Jimmy to take your paper route for a week.”
A week, Matthew thought. He’d occasionally gone with his father before, but usually only for a day or two at the most. A whole week!
His father continued, “I have a convention in Helsinki, Finland. You could stay with your Uncle Jussi and Aunt Helvi.”
“You mean I’d get to see Matti?” asked Matthew excitedly. He and his Finnish cousin were both named after their great-uncle Matias. Both boys were almost twelve now, and had been writing to each other for several years.
After hours of anticipation, the flight to Helsinki seemed short to Matthew. Then, picking up their suitcases, the two of them were whisked to their hotel in a taxi.
Later Matthew was looking out the hotel window and watching the trolley cars below when his dad said, “You’d better get to bed, son. You have to leave early in the morning.”
Tomorrow Matthew would go by plane to Oulu, flying northward half the length of Finland. He would stay with his cousin Matti, while his father remained in Helsinki for meetings.
The hotel room was flooded with light when Matthew awoke the next morning. He shook his father. “Hey, Dad. Wake up. It’s late!”
His father rolled over and looked at his watch. “It’s only three-thirty, Matt. The plane doesn’t leave until eight. Go back to sleep,” he suggested and shut his eyes again.
But Matthew was awake now and too excited to sleep. He quietly walked over to the window and looked down at the sleeping city. The sun was shining brightly on the street below.
It’s strange to have the sun shining when it’s only a few hours after midnight, he thought.
Later that morning the fifty-five-minute plane ride took Matthew over the industrial section north of Helsinki. Dairy farms and grainfields broke up the blue and green pattern of the lakes and forests below. He’d never seen so many small lakes. He remembered something he had read about this pleasantly strange land: “Silvery lakes—55,000 of them—embroidering a carpeted forest and strung together with short … rivers make Finland a labyrinthine land.”
Uncle Jussi and Aunt Helvi greeted him warmly. He and Matti shook hands shyly but were soon laughing and talking together excitedly.
“I think you speak English better than I do,” said Matthew.
“We start learning it when we are seven and first enter school,” replied Matti. “Our school radio broadcasts lessons into our classrooms,” he added.
Matti showed his American cousin around their home. They stepped into a storage shed next to the house where several pairs of ice skates hung from the wall and skis were stored above the rafters.
“The countryside looks flat. Where do you ski?” asked Matthew. “I haven’t seen any mountains.”
“We don’t need mountains or steep slopes. We ski cross-country,” replied Matti. “Nearly everyone has a pair of skis. Those small ones belong to my sisters Tuula and Liisa.”
Back in the kitchen, Matti said, “Aiti (Mother), I’m going to take Matthew down to the harbor to see the fishing boats.”
“You’d better eat something first,” she suggested. “I’m sure Matthew must be hungry.” She placed a plate of sliced rye bread on the table along with some cheese and milk.
Matthew had never seen such dark bread before. “This is really good,” he said as he finished one slice and then reached for another.
The boys left for the harbor, but Matthew returned for a sweater. He wasn’t used to such cool summer weather. “I keep forgetting we’re so far north,” he told his cousin as he pulled on the sweater. “Say, I haven’t seen any reindeer yet.”
Matti replied, “Oh, most of them are farther north in Lapland. Many people think Finland is nothing but Laplanders and reindeer. But I’ll show you lots of other things about our country. Come on. Let’s go.”
Matthew was tired by suppertime—too tired to eat all of the potatoes, meatballs, and raspberry pudding placed before him. He yawned. “Doesn’t it ever get dark here?” he asked. “The sun seems as bright as ever.”
“The days are the longest of the year now,” said Matti. “The sun shines for over twenty hours. It won’t get dark until about midnight.”
At nine-thirty, with several hours of daylight left, Matthew excused himself and headed for bed. “It’s been a long day,” he said, yawning, “and I’ve some catching up to do!”

Heavenly Father, I need $20 to buy a Web pet. It would take forever to earn that much. Please help me!
I found twenty dollars! The answer to my prayer!
Is it OK to keep this money if it’s an answer to prayer?
But what if somebody’s praying to get it back and I’m part of the answer to that prayer?
Wait! I’m just looking for an excuse to do the wrong thing. Heavenly Father would never want me to steal. It’s not my money, and I won’t take it!
You’re an honest girl, Mandy. A lot of people would have been tempted to keep this.
I know. I’m one of them, but I wanted to be honest.

As a young boy, I went on a rafting trip on the Colorado River. A wonderful adviser said, “On this rapid, I want you to be the ‘tiller’ (the one who steers the raft).” The adviser, whom I admired because of his physical strength and spiritual integrity, took a much less significant position in the raft, handed me the oar, and said, “Now it’s your turn.”

We calculated how we would run the rapid, and then we ran it. I broke two paddles in the rapid, but with the help of a well-prepared crew, we met the challenge safely. I thought, There’s an adviser who understands. It was a remarkable example of a trusting priesthood adviser raising a young man’s potential for service. He was there to hand us the oar, not just steer for us. It helped me gain self-confidence.

Thanks so much for the article “Picture This” (Sept. 1994). I decided to put a picture of Christ in my locker too. It took me a few days to actually put it up, but when I did I noticed an instant change in myself, in the way I thought about and treated other people. Now every day at school I look at myself in my mirror, then at the picture of Christ, and it reminds me to be as Christlike as possible. Being one of only four members of the Church at my school, I feel like it’s an example, not only to my member friends, but to other people as well.
Cari RickabaughSturtevant, Wisconsin