Gospel Story Finder

A couple of years ago, my grandson Christian was turning eight and planning his baptismal service with great anticipation. He asked his mother if I could be one of the speakers and share my conversion story. When I asked him why he wanted me to do that, he replied, “Grandma, that is so important. Do you realize that if you hadn’t accepted the gospel, I wouldn’t be getting baptized? I wouldn’t even be who I am.”

Like most boys from Whitney, “T” had outstanding parents. His mother was noted for her sense of humor and sunny disposition. She had a unique gift for teaching a boy without criticizing him. One day on the way home from school, “T” took exception to the way his cousin George was treating Joe, “T’s” younger brother.

“I finally said, ‘If you do that once more, I’ll hit you.’ He went on teasing Joe, and as a result we got into a fight. We had quite a struggle in the dirt as well as on our feet, and I made George’s nose bleed.

“It finally ended, and George went home as we did. When I arrived home Mother noticed the blood on my hands and on my shirt and asked what had happened. Of course, I explained. She didn’t chastize me for defending my younger and smaller brother, but she did say, ‘T,’ I was going to bake some bread, but I’m right out of yeast. I want you to go over to Aunt Lulu’s (George’s mother) and get some.’ I said, ‘Mother, don’t ask me to do that after I’ve had this fight with George.’ She said, ‘That makes no difference. I need the yeast and I want you to go to your Aunt Lulu’s and get the start.’”

In having to go to his aunt’s home and face his cousin George, “T” learned more about settling disputes than a lecture could have taught him.

“As he talked and after he had finished his speech, my heart kept beating fast to testify to me that what he said was true. I kept thinking of the promises made to me in my patriarchal blessing, that the Lord would guide me to the right one.”
Marshall Gardener,Yuma First Ward, stationed with the Navy at Long Beach

Another story about my mother had an even greater impact on me. It shaped how I resolved to live my life.
When I was a priest, my assignment one Sunday was to bless the sacrament in Sunday School. In those days, we took the sacrament during Sunday School in the morning, and then returned for sacrament meeting in the evening.
I had a 1946 Chevy coupe that I had made into a hot rod, and I wanted to compete in some races that were being held that Sunday. I knew that my parents would not approve, so I said nothing. I am ashamed to say it, but I left church and went to the drag races. I raced one time and lost.
When I returned home, my mother was standing at the kitchen sink, finishing up the dinner dishes. I could see tears on her cheeks. I asked, “Mom, what’s the matter?”
She turned and asked, “Son, where have we failed as parents that you feel you can violate the Lord’s holy day?”
I couldn’t bear it! My dear mother was taking the blame and burden for my wrongdoing.
That moment helped me understand more about the Atonement of Jesus Christ, that someone else was willing to bear the burden of my wrong choice. I began to understand how the Savior could do that for me because I saw my mother do it in this instance.

When my family lived in Switzerland, I hung my favorite pictures from the Friend on our fridge so I could see them every day. I can’t wait to get the Friend in the mail and read it with my family and my dog, Geneve!

There are inactive volcanoes near where I live, but recently one erupted. We were all really shocked when it happened. The sky was gloomy and dark, and there were lots of ashes falling from the sky. I was afraid, because we live in a pretty safe place and usually don’t have natural disasters. The scariest part was the aftershocks that came after the volcano erupted.
When the volcano erupted, my family went to stay at the church. There were lots of people staying there, which helped me not be scared. I was happy to see so many people because then I knew that they were safe.
While we were staying in the church, it was really nice to serve and minister to other people who were coming in to stay and escape the danger. I liked being able to serve without expecting anything in return. It reminded me that we need to make good decisions every day and be generous to everyone, not just in times of natural disasters but each day.

I have never written to you before, but I want you to know how much I appreciated the article on President Kimball in the December 1982 New Era. He is truly “No Ordinary Man.” Every time I see a picture of him or read an article by or about him, I grow to love him more and more. He is so handsome and humble and such a perfect example of strength. I try to pattern my life after him in all I do. I was able to shake his hand when he came to visit our temple because my dad took us down. I would love to be able to talk to him and tell him how much I love and appreciate him. He has done much for the Church and had a big position to fill. He has filled it to its capacity and still continues to work. Thank you for your special article on this man of God.
Sharla BrooksSt. George, Utah

Brother Connell was a recent convert to the Church and was called to be the teachers quorum adviser. I was fourteen and a new member of the quorum. I was called as the president, even though I was having a great deal of trouble learning to control my temper.
The young men of the ward went on a cave exploration trip to a cave in Indiana, about two hundred miles from home. This trip was taken in the cool of October. I became very angry over a situation and said I was going to walk home. I started out on my long journey. After I had walked a short distance, all the cars in our party went past me and did not even slow down. My jaw dropped and I thought, “Oh, no, they’re leaving me.” Then I turned around and saw Brother Connell following me. I felt ashamed and embarrassed. I stopped and waited for him to catch up. He told me he would not let me walk home alone and would join me. We walked for about five miles. Brother Connell helped me understand my feelings and straighten them out. By prior arrangement, one of the cars returned and picked us up. This was the beginning of a great friendship between Brother Connell and me. During the time that Brother Connell was my adviser, he helped me to control my temper and use my energy in constructive ways. He had me come and help him put a new roof on his house. He has had me babysit his children. Brother Connell has helped me learn more about the gospel and how to care about other people.

That Kolwezi district conference in 2013 was memorable for all involved. The district president asked the Kinkondja brethren, to share their powerful testimonies in priesthood meeting and in the Sunday session of conference. They had arrived very tired and very early on Saturday morning. By the end of the conference, they—and all who heard their stories and their testimonies—left refreshed, fulfilled, and feeling God’s love in their hearts.

Elder David F. Evans
(106) A young man joins the Church after seeing the example of his friends and roommate.

The wrought-iron fence kept us from getting close to the huge, old olive trees, but we could feel their age. It is said that these trees grew from the roots of those that stood here at the time of the Savior.

“It’s hard to imagine something still alive that was alive when Jesus was here,” Don said. We talked about the suffering the Savior experienced in the Garden of Gethsemane and how we are all blessed because of the love Christ had for us in this place.

Deborah asked, “Why did his friends run away from him?” We couldn’t answer, but suddenly, standing in the garden, we didn’t ever want to do anything that would separate us from our Savior.

Sister Parkin served on the Relief Society general board from 1990 until 1994, when she was called as second counselor in the Young Women general presidency. Then, in 1997, her husband was called to serve for three years as president of the England London South Mission.

“The blessing of serving a mission with my husband greatly strengthened me,” she says. “We loved the British Saints, as well as our elders and sister missionaries, and learned so much from them.”

On Beacon Hill Elder Brigham Young, Elder Wilford Woodruff, and Elder Willard Richards (1804–54), all of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, prayerfully decided to authorize printing of the Book of Mormon and a hymnbook in Great Britain. These Brethren did not have access to a temple, so they often retreated to the Malvern Hills to discuss with the Lord various weighty decisions. These hills, and particularly Beacon Hill, are sacred places in Church history.

I know that from my own experience. I remember when I was a boy of 15 and we had been expelled from Mexico in the revolution. My folks went to Los Angeles from El Paso, Texas. I got a job there among a bunch of Mormon-haters, and I didn’t tell them that I was a Mormon. Sometime after that, President Joseph F. Smith came to Los Angeles and had dinner with my parents—a very humble dinner; I can remember that it was very scant. He put his hand on my head and said, “My boy, don’t ever be ashamed that you are a Mormon.”
You know, I have worried all my days that I didn’t have the courage to stand up to those ribald men.

I would like to tell a parable. There was a certain man who, desiring to enjoy the beauties of nature, betook himself for a woodland stroll by the side of a clear, flowing river. As he contemplated the magnificence of God’s handiwork, he neglected to observe the uneven path where tree roots straggled down to the water’s edge. He stumbled and fell headlong into the river. The water was deeper than he had thought, and he could not swim. He cried out, but no one heard as the water engulfed him in darkness. He surfaced and tried to shout again, his hopes dimmed, and a second time he sank. His call was weaker as he rose for the last time, and who would hear him now? But someone else was walking nearby, heard the man’s cries, and dived in and brought him safely to the bank. When the man recovered, he looked up into the face of his rescuer and said: “Oh, thank you, thank you for saving me. What can I do to show my love and appreciation?”

The one who had saved him smiled and said, “There are many things you can do for me.” And he taught him lovingly and carefully. Then a sad thing happened: the man who had saved him died as a result of the experience, and the man who had been saved lived. Despite his sorrow, he had a warm feeling within him, for he knew what to do to show his love and gratitude for his savior.

So it is with us, for our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, died that we might live. We know what we should do, for he has told us: “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15).

In New York, USA, Elder David A. Bednar participated in a forum on marriage, saying that one of the great tasks of our time—one on which diverse faith communities should be united—is to help people understand the true meaning and purpose of marriage.

My second example also comes from pioneer times. When the Saints needed a large quantity of rags to process in their paper mill, the First Presidency asked bishops to sponsor rag drives in their local wards and settlements. In 1861, President Brigham Young called George Goddard, a loyal Church member, on a “rag mission” to promote this effort.

Brother Goddard recalled: “[This calling] was a severe blow to my native pride. … After being known in the community for years, as a merchant and auctioneer, and then to be seen on the streets going from door to door with a basket on one arm and an empty sack on the other, enquiring for rags at every house. Oh, what a change in the aspect of affairs. … When President Young first made the proposition, the humiliating prospect almost stunned me, but a few moments’ reflection reminded me that I came to these valleys of the mountains from my native country, England, for the purpose of doing the will of my Heavenly Father, my time and means must be at His disposal. I therefore answered President Young in the affirmative” (quoted in Leonard J. Arrington, Great Basin Kingdom [1958], 115).

For more than three years, George Goddard traveled from Franklin, Idaho, in the north to Sanpete County, Utah, in the south, visiting hundreds of houses. On Sundays he preached what were called “rag sermons.” By the end of this three-year mission, he had collected more than 45,000 kilograms of rags for the paper project. It was humble work, but it was essential for the progress of his community, and it was assigned by priesthood authority.

Like many college freshmen away from home for the first time, I gained 20 pounds my first year at Dixie College in St. George, Utah. While my gym teachers affectionately called it the “Freshman 20,” my brothers and I just called it fat.
As spring approached I became determined that I would somehow make time to include daily exercise. I really love to run, and I decided this would be the way for me to get back down to my normal weight. I plotted my running course very carefully. It was a beautiful one-mile route which included the block around the St. George Temple.
My only obstacle was getting out of bed. Morning after morning I would just turn off the alarm, roll over, and go back to sleep. One morning, however, I felt unusually alert and awake as I turned off the alarm. I decided this would be the day I would begin my running program. I quickly dressed, stretched, and walked outside, only to find that a light fog had settled in the valley. It was still fairly dark, and I began to feel discouraged.
As I ran I could sometimes hear other joggers’ footsteps coming from the other direction, but I could not see them until they were right in front of me.
I expected to see the temple soon with its beautiful whiteness illuminated by lights, but block after block I couldn’t see the temple. I found myself wondering why I couldn’t see the temple and many questions entered my mind. “Am I on the right route?”
Finally, though, I could see a faint glow as soft as candlelight in the distance. I came upon the west side of the temple. I can’t express the excitement I felt in my heart as I circled the temple, rejoicing in its beauty, marveling that I had not been able to see it just seconds before.
After my experience that foggy morning, I knew without a doubt that just as the temple was still there, though I couldn’t see it, so is eternal life and exaltation. Though some of our long-range goals are not tangible, they can be reached if we will just keep going in the right direction, despite the clouds of doubt.

Seriously, these expressions indicate either a lack of faith in or lack of understanding of the power of God. When one fine stake president, without thinking, let those words slip out, “The home teachers won’t do it,” I answered him, “President, do you know what you have just said? I think you just said that although the Lord established a procedure by which we should lead his church, his system won’t work. So you have devised a better one.”

Jenny was excited to visit her friend Anne, who had moved to New York, but she was also afraid. What if she missed her airplane? What if Anne wasn’t there to meet her?
Dad helped Jenny find the right place at the airport and hugged her good-bye. “Have a good time,” he said. Jenny felt nervous, but she remembered that in family prayer Mom had prayed for her safety.
On the flight, Jenny read a book and drank juice. After landing, she found Anne’s family waiting with big smiles on their faces. “Welcome to New York!” Anne cried.
During the week they played, hiked, picnicked, and shopped. They even saw the Palmyra Temple and the Sacred Grove. When it was time to fly home, Jenny felt brave. She found her seat—right next to the window!—and put on her seatbelt.
Just as the plane began speeding up, it slowed again. The engines quieted, then stopped. “Is something wrong?” Jenny worried to herself.
“We can’t take off yet because of thunderstorms,” the pilot announced.
Three hours later, the airplane was still sitting on the runway. “I should have been home by now,” Jenny moaned. The grouchy man next to her muttered some bad words, and she felt even worse.
At last, the plane took off. Everyone cheered, except the grouchy man, who scowled. Jenny watched the city lights disappear beneath the clouds, then fell asleep.
A sudden flash awoke her. She blinked out into the darkness. There it was again!—sizzling, crackling lightning. Her stomach turned cold. She had never seen lightning so near. Her hair stood on end, charged with static electricity. She wanted to ask someone what would happen if lightning struck the airplane, but everyone else was asleep. Even the flight attendants were out of sight.
Bam! Another blinding ray of light exploded outside.
“Heavenly Father,” Jenny silently prayed, “I’m scared. Please help me to feel better and get home safely.”
As thunder rumbled and the airplane shook, Jenny remembered her vacation. She had flown to New York without any trouble. She had played, hiked, and ridden in a car. She hadn’t scraped her knees, caught a cold, or gotten lost. She hadn’t even forgotten her toothbrush. Nothing had gone wrong. Suddenly she realized that all of those things were blessings from Heavenly Father.
“If He protected me on the ground,” she thought, “why can’t He protect me in the air?” Peace entered her heart. She knew that no matter where she went, as long as she was faithful, she would be in God’s hands.
She settled back into her chair and fell asleep. When she awoke, the lights of her hometown twinkled up at her. “Prepare for landing,” the pilot said. Jenny offered a prayer of thanks, grateful to be safely home again.