Gospel Story Finder

One woman endured a time of darkness when her eight-year-old son was killed in an accident. “My once-faithful testimony of Jesus Christ and life after death was seriously challenged,” she recalls. “My faith in him seemed shattered. But my doubt was not a rejection of eternal truths, only fear of the unknown. Like the father who beseeched the Savior to heal his child and cried, ‘Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief’ (Mark 9:24), I too cried out in anxious prayers.

“That was the beginning of a renewed faith that eventually led to a comforting trust. I was finally able to give my son to God’s care, looking forward with faith in my Savior with my own ‘brightness of hope’ (2 Ne. 31:20).”

Anna was a poor peasant girl in long ago Salzburg, but she was a happy girl. An excellent seamstress, she loved to make beautiful clothes for her family.
The rich women of the town discovered the beautifully embroidered clothes Anna made and demanded that she make similar clothes for them. In return they paid her well.
One day the queen commanded Anna to make a dress for her because the prince, her son, was coming home. What happened to Anna and the women of Salzburg provides delightful reading. The beautifully colored and detailed illustrations make this book a treasure.

I had some other experiences that year, too, that I am not too proud of, but will admit to you by way of teaching by example, maybe the example of overcoming. As part of being Joe Fraternity on campus, I was invited one evening to go up the canyon with a bunch of senior active members of my fraternity to a beer bust. I’d never been to a beer bust and was kind of curious, assuming they would have soft drinks for us Mormon boys. Wrong assumption. I was persuaded by these active members that I thought a lot of to have a beer or two. I’d had more than two. I had three to five and became sick. They drove me back home to the fraternity house and I went down to my little hovel of a room and immediately threw up on the floor. As I tried to clean it up, there appeared at the door the president of the fraternity, Ross Bradford. Ross said, “What’s going on in here, Skunk?” (I was a pledge to the fraternity and they were called skunks. I think I smelled worse than a skunk that night.) “What’s going on in here, Skunk?” he said, and I told him I was sick. He said, “Have you been drinking?” And I said, “Just two or three.” And he said, “I can’t believe it. You were raised in a better family than that.”

Ross was an experienced man. He had been in the Air Force for three years, was finishing school on the GI bill, and I admired him greatly. He helped me clean up the mess on the floor, which I thought was very charitable for the president of the fraternity, and then he led me down the hall to the furnace room. He opened up the door to this dingy hot furnace room, and there was an old dirty mattress in there. He said, “You go in there and sleep there tonight, and take this garbage can, and if you get sick again, throw up in that. I don’t want to clean up any more.” Well, I felt rightfully challenged and criticized as well, and I sat there for a few minutes with my head in my hands, rather sick and ill. He came back, and he had the pledge manual in his hand, and he said, “I have a poem I want you to memorize, and if you can memorize this by tomorrow morning by the time I go to class and have breakfast in the chapter room, then you can stay and become a member of this fraternity. If you can’t, pack your bags and leave.” Well, I stayed up all night, memorizing that poem. It was a defining moment of my life. The poem was called “The True Gentleman.” The next morning I was awake (I had stayed up all night) and I showered and shaved and cleaned up and even put on my best suit and tie, shined my shoes, and when Ross came down to his breakfast table, at the head of the table in the chapter room, I was ready to give him my poem, “The True Gentleman.” He slowly ate breakfast while I fidgeted, standing there at attention, and when he finished, he put his napkin and spoon down and said, “All right, let’s hear it.” And I quoted this poem called “The True Gentleman”:

The True Gentleman’s a man whose conduct proceeds
From good will and an acute sense of propriety
And whose self control is equal to all emergencies
Who does not make the poor man conscious of his poverty,
The obscure man of his obscurity, nor any man of his inferiority or deformity
Who is himself humble if necessity compels him to humble another
Who does not flatter wealth, cringe before power nor boast of his own possessions or achievements
Who speaks with frankness, but always with sincerity and sympathy
And whose deed follows his word.
A man who appears well in any company
A man with whom honor is sacred and virtue safe.

When I finished, Ross stood up and embraced me, and said, “Nice job, Skunk, you can stay,” and off he went to school. Before he left, he turned at the door and said, “The real challenge is: Now try to live it. Try to live it. Try to be a true gentleman in all that you do.” Well, I’ve found you can live it if you hale to the promptings of the Holy Ghost, if you hale to the power and influence of the priesthood in your lives, if you follow the commandments of God, if you follow the directions of your parents and friends and family.

Well do I remember my most unique “deed” to sustain a prophet. As a medical doctor and cardiac surgeon, I had the responsibility of performing open-heart surgery on President Spencer W. Kimball in 1972, when he was Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He needed a very complex operation. But I had no experience doing such a procedure on a 77-year-old patient in heart failure. I did not recommend the operation and so informed President Kimball and the First Presidency. But, in faith, President Kimball chose to have the operation, only because it was advised by the First Presidency. That shows how he sustained his leaders! And his decision made me tremble!

Thanks to the Lord, the operation was a success. When President Kimball’s heart resumed beating, it did so with great power! At that very moment, I had a clear witness of the Spirit that this man would one day become President of the Church!

You know the outcome. Only 20 months later, President Kimball became President of the Church. And he provided bold and courageous leadership for many years.

Almost 40 years ago my husband and I went to the temple for our Friday night date. We had been married only a short time, and I was nervous because this was only my second time as a newlywed. A sister sitting next to me must have noticed. She leaned over and whispered reverently, “Don’t worry. I’ll help you.” My fears were calmed, and I was able to enjoy the rest of the temple session. She first observed, then served.

There was a time when the gospel wasn’t a part of my life. I walked down many other paths only to find dead ends. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was trying to find truth. Earlier, I had peace and happiness that just wasn’t there anymore. I longed for hope again.
I went around like this for five years. My family, which once was close, became as distant as we’ve ever been. I lost some of my best friends from the Church, and I knew I needed to change. But I was scared—unbelievably scared. I tried many things, from counseling and week-long seminars to moving away and trying to start over. But nothing worked. My search for the peace I’d lost seemed hopeless.
I remembered both praying with my family when I was younger and having personal prayers. I remembered the closeness I had with my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Whenever I was confronted with a problem, I turned to Heavenly Father for help.
So that’s what I did again. I knelt and poured out my soul. I asked for help to guide me and pleaded for answers. I told the Lord of my trials and struggles and asked for help in finding the peace and happiness I was longing for.
It was through this and many other prayers that I learned for myself the love our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ have for me. The answer to my prayer was like a beam of light that shone through my darkness. I could finally see what I was searching for—hope. And through that hope came increased faith and a greater love for the gospel. It’s because of this that I am where I am today, serving a mission and spreading my love of the gospel to others.
I know Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are ready and willing to help us if we are ready and willing to ask. It is through this that I’ve gained my testimony, and it’s through this that my testimony continues to grow. I have found my peace and happiness.

When my wife and I visited Salt Lake City recently, we needed to find an ATM on the street. While we were looking around, we heard a voice from a parked car behind us say, “Are you looking for something? Can I help you?” The man, who introduced himself as Mike, added with a smile that it feels probably weird for a stranger to yell at us from a car, but in Utah we might not be surprised by that. He asked where we are from and when he learned that we are from Prague, his eyes lit up. He had recently spoken to a friend of his who was having trouble getting information about her ancestors from the Czech Republic, so he immediately wondered if there was anything we could do to help. We replied that we would be happy to send him contacts of brothers and sisters who were doing genealogy in our country. He thanked us, we said goodbye and he got into his car. As we were leaving, we noticed that Mike had gotten out of the car again and was coming back to us. This time, however, the happy smile was replaced by emotion.
With tears in his eyes, he told us how grateful he was for our brief encounter and that he felt urged to get out of the car. He had been trying unsuccessfully to help his friend with genealogy in Bohemia for a long time, and because of her advanced age, she was losing hope of finding her ancestors in Bohemia. Mike too was about to give up, but the previous day when he visited the temple he felt that the solution would come - and it came through us. And so he wanted to share with us the joy and gratitude he felt at another testimony of how wonderfully God‘s guidance works in our lives.
Our encounter with Mike is an example of how the Spirit works. Mike made an effort to listen to the promptings of the Holy Spirit and through his willingness to help complete strangers, he subsequently received not only help for his friend, but we all received another testimony of how God, through the Spirit, gives us answers and brings solutions. Yes, it was a small thing, but it is from such small and tiny things that the great mosaic of spiritual knowledge in our lives is made.

In 2001, the old Spori Building was scheduled for demolition so a new one could be built in its place. We at the electrical shop were concerned that a high-voltage distribution switch, powering numerous buildings and sitting next to the Spori Building, may be damaged from falling debris three stories up. The decision to cover it with railroad ties seemed like a reasonable solution. As we waited for the building to be razed, one of our vendors from California was scheduled to visit us and discuss some new transformers they were selling. Instead, he brought a sales representative to show us a new temporary junction bus for high-voltage distribution that could be used anywhere. Well, that was random, but interesting. Then, the next few weeks proved even more interesting and urgent as the Spori high-voltage switch began to leak dielectric gas insulation. SF6, or sulfur hexafluoride, is very expensive, and we were losing about $1,500 in gas every 4 days. We were in between a rock and a hard place. To buy a new gas switch would cost around $20,000 and take about 16 weeks to build and ship.

Don’t worry, we now have spares. But back then, no spares and no way to stop the leak. But ding ding, in my mind, the vendor from California had on his shelf a temporary solution. How convenient. We air freighted the junction bus in, removed the leaking switch, and pulled all of the high-voltage cable into an underground vault and onto our junctions, then ordered a new switch and waited for the demo. The night the demolition started, two caterpillar dozers looped a cable between them and were going to drag it through the old, pioneer-built, rock structure. Nothing happened, so they decided to saw through the building with the cable. A small friction fire developed after a few back and forth pulls, and suddenly the entire building was on fire. It burned to the ground. How long those railroad ties would have burned protecting our switch—well, we never had to find out; the high-voltage cables were safely underground and out of harm’s way. Even more miraculous, the leaking gas switch never lost another ounce of sulfur hexafluoride. We replaced it anyway, and that became our spare.

With Christ and our Heavenly Father, there are no random events. They are in the very details of our lives. The Spori miracle had to be so precise and the timing so exact in order for so many moving parts to come together at the right time.

“Seven years after his death, I received a text from my son—or so it appeared.
“My teenage grandson (his son) had just celebrated a birthday and was given his dad’s old phone as a present.
“And I still hadn’t updated the contact information.
“Curious to see what my son and I said to each other in the last days of his life, I began to scroll through past texts.
“I saw many short messages about errands and family events. My heart sank the longer it took to find a text that simply said, ‘I love you.’
“I knew that he knew I loved him, but I wondered if I had missed the chance to say it one last time.
“Since then, I’ve tried to end every text with ‘Thank you’ or ‘I love you so much.’
“I want YOU to stop right now and check YOUR texts.
“Sometimes we get so busy telling each other the urgent things that we forget to say the most important thing: I love you.
“I invite you to text or tell the people you love and live with just how much you care about them.
“Let’s not wait another second to let them know how much they mean to us.
“Text them. Tell them.
“I promise you won’t regret it!
“‘Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God’ (1 John 4:7).”
Sister Tamara W. Runia, Facebook, July 23, 2024, facebook.com/youngwomenworldwide.

It is so rewarding to be married. One night our little boy with a heart problem awoke. The two of us heard it. Normally my wife always got up to take care of a crying baby, but this time I said, “I’ll take care of him.”

Because of his problem, when he began to cry, his little heart would pound very rapidly. He would lose any food that he had eaten and soil the bed clothing. I knew that had happened, so I held him very close to try to calm his racing heart and stop his crying as I changed his clothes and put on new bedsheets. I held him until he went to sleep. I didn’t know then that just a few months later he would pass away. I will always remember holding him in my arms.

One Sunday after sacrament meeting, the children and we teachers were to go directly to our classrooms instead of meeting first in the Primary room. When I got to my classroom, I realized that I had left my teaching materials in the Primary room. I told my class to sit down, that I would be right back. Before I hurried away, I said, “Be quiet now!”
When I returned, the classroom seemed unusually quiet. I slowly opened the door and peeked inside. My students were all kneeling, their arms folded and heads bowed, quietly waiting for me to return to have class prayer.
I want to say thank you to my class! You are all really trying to do what Jesus Christ would want you to do.

When James R. Heap accepted his mission call, he was well aware of the years of college, medical school, and residency lying ahead. Still, he wasn’t worried that a mission break would hinder him professionally. Upon returning home he quickly made up for “lost” time. After three years of college he was accepted to medical school—the first year of medical school was applied to his graduation requirements—and he became a doctor of medicine at the age of 26, the same age as many others who had gone straight through. (Incidentally, he was serving in the branch presidency of a student branch at the time.) He then took a three-year residency at Scott Air Force Base Medical Center in Illinois and is presently established as a family practice specialist in Phoenix, Arizona.
During those years of internship and residency, he continued his Church service, fulfilling many responsible callings, among them executive secretary, Sunday School teacher, and high councilor.
Dr. Heap feels that his mission contributed in a large way to his success as a physician. When he returned to college, he found that his capacity for learning, and the speed with which he did it, were increased. More importantly, devoting his time and talents to full-time missionary work brought about an increased love and concern for others. “Intelligence alone is not enough,” he maintains. “Intelligence plus a Christlike love for mankind is the perfect combination for a successful and respected physician.”
In addition to his present responsibilities as husband, father of five, and physician, Dr. Heap still finds time to serve as the ward music chairman, ward organist and choir accompanist, family relations teacher, and temple preparation seminar teacher. He has done more, at the relatively young age of 30, than many do in a lifetime.
How does he manage it, one might wonder.
“The more I give, the more I’m blessed and the more I’m able to do effectively,” he answers. “Happiness has come into my life through service to my God, my family, and my fellowmen.”

At breakfast when Mom reminded everyone about their family temple trip on Saturday, Carly frowned. She had completely forgotten about that. Usually she loved going to the temple, but Saturday was the day of Jennifer’s party!
Jennifer was Carly’s best friend, and on Saturday she was having a Halloween party. Carly could hardly wait. But now she didn’t know what she should do.
“Mom, Jennifer’s party is Saturday too,” she said. “Would it be OK if I stay home and go to the party?”
Mom smiled. “You are 12 years old now,” she said. “I think you can make up your own mind.”
Carly sighed.
All week Carly worried about Saturday. The temple was far away, so her family didn’t get to go very often. But Halloween parties didn’t happen that often either.
I can just go to the party, Carly decided.
But that didn’t feel right.
“Why do the party and our temple trip have to be on the same day?” she asked at dinner.
“You’ve got a tough choice to make,” Dad said. “What do you think you should do?”
Carly didn’t see anything wrong with going to the party. All her friends from school would be there, and it would probably be a lot of fun. But it wasn’t a question between right and wrong, and that made it harder. Going to the party was good, but Carly knew that serving others in the temple was better.
“I guess I’ll go on the temple trip,” Carly said. Immediately her heart felt lighter.
The next day at school, Jennifer ran up to Carly. “I can’t wait for the party,” she said. “What are you going to wear?”
Carly took a deep breath. “I’m really sorry, Jennifer,” she said. “But I can’t come to your party. My family is going to the temple that day.”
Jennifer crinkled her nose. “What’s a temple?”
“It’s a special place where we go to worship God,” Carly said. “It’s important to me, but I’m sorry I’ll miss your party.”
“It’s OK,” Jennifer said. But she looked sad.
“How about if you come over after school on Monday and tell me all about the party?” Carly said.
Jennifer smiled. “OK!”
Early Saturday morning Carly took her pillow and backpack out to the car. Mom put her arm around Carly’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re going with us.”
“So am I,” Carly said, and she meant it.
At the temple Carly listened carefully to the words of the baptismal prayer. When she thought about how each name was for a real person, she was sure there was no place she would rather be than here, being baptized for them.
On the way home, Dad said, “Because of our family, 15 people had baptisms done for them today. I know these ancestors are grateful for the opportunity to accept the gospel.”
Carly settled down for the long drive home. She couldn’t stop smiling.

I was soon back with my usual gang in Milford Haven in Wales. One day, Jacky, who was then in charge, told me to ‘drop’ one of the buffers on a wagon—the spring inside was broken. About one inch of the very large thick spring in the buffer was protruding. (There was a great deal of tension on the four bolts that secured it. It took one man to ‘drop’ it and three men to lift it into place.)

In those days it was mainly hammer and chisel work, and you always cut through the most awkward nut first. I had nearly cut through this nut, but then decided to cut through the others and then finish cutting the awkward one. In no time I’d cut through the other three nuts, then I placed my chisel on the last nut that was nearly cut. All the time I was cutting through the nuts I had to stand in front of the buffer. As I lifted my hammer to make the final blow, something made me look up and see that this wagon was a ‘twin bolster’, having no sides and used to carry long steel bars from steel works. The thought came, “Do I go on top and lay flat and finish the cut, or should I just carry on?” I am so thankful that I felt the urge to go on top of the wagon. As I gave a blow with the hammer and chisel, the buffer (weighing about three quarters of a hundred weight, about 40 kilograms) suddenly ripped off the rest of the bolt and smashed against another wagon which was about fifteen feet away. The spring had been jammed, and that final blow loosened the spring. If I had decided to stay put and finish the cut, I would have been killed.

It’s hard to believe it was only 120 years ago when Wilbur and Orville Wright first lifted off and flew over the sands of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. Four short flights on that December day changed the world and opened the door to one of the greatest inventions in the world’s history.
Flying was risky in those early days. The brothers knew this. And so did their father, Milton. In fact, he was so terrified of losing both of his sons in a flying accident that they promised him they would never fly together.
And they never did—with one exception. Seven years after that historic day at Kitty Hawk, Milton Wright finally gave his consent and watched as Wilbur and Orville flew together for the first time. After landing, Orville convinced his father to take his first and only flight and to see for himself what it was like.
As the plane lifted from the ground, the 82-year-old Milton got so caught up in the exhilaration of flight that all fear left him. Orville rejoiced as his father shouted with delight, “Higher, Orville, higher!”
This was a man after my own heart!

In Bodø, a city far to the north, Church members have gathered for a district conference. The few teenagers present tell what it’s like living above the Arctic Circle, often as the only LDS youth in their towns.

Håvard Lunde, 15, and his brother Erlend, 13, live in Alta, almost as far north as you can go in Norway. There is no chapel in Alta; the eight Latter-day Saints take turns meeting in each other’s homes.
“The Church seems normal to us, because we were born in it,” Håvard says. “But in Alta, like in most of Norway, young people don’t believe in much of anything. Our friends don’t shun us, but they wonder why we make such a big thing about religion.”
“We just try to set an example,” Erlend says.
And they wait for times like district conference, when their spiritual strength is renewed.

One spring I received three sunflower seeds. The instructions for their planting were very clear: place the seeds in soil with the pointed top down, cover completely with soil, and then water regularly. I carefully followed the instructions and placed my new sunflower pot on the windowsill. After a few days I noticed two sprouts; I figured the third sprout would soon follow.
A week later it was time to replant the growing stems in my small porch garden. The third seed had never sprouted; I thought it must have been defective. As I began to dig around the sunflower pot, I discovered that my careful planting had not been so careful. The third seed was not defective—I had just planted it upside down. The seed had grown—it just hadn’t grown upward. It had pushed itself down through the dirt to the bottom of the pot. As a result, the sunflower’s stem had become badly twisted. I wondered if I should even replant the flower outside. Would it ever grow well with such a bad start?
My sunflower had tried to grow properly—had tried to reach the light of the sun—but my carelessness prevented it from doing so. I realized this sunflower bore a remarkable resemblance to my own life.
Back in my garden, I decided to replant my sunflower and hope for the best. After a few weeks, my sunflower made an amazing recovery. It was beginning to grow just as tall and straight as the others. A poor beginning had just slightly stalled the sunflower’s eventual growth and potential, and I knew that it would continue to thrive and reach toward the sun, a beautiful reminder for me to do the same.

The girls in Alaska are making a lot of quilts these days.
Recently, the young women of the Fairbanks Alaska First Ward each quilted a blanket for the local women’s center. There is a tradition there of giving handmade quilts to women who suffer the loss of a child.
Meanwhile, in the Palmer Second Ward in the Wasilla Alaska Stake, the young women were busy making quilts for the California earthquake victims. Members of the Relief Society helped the girls put together 18 quilts in three hours. Laurel Patience Pierce spear-headed the project.
That’s a lot of warmth spread around by young women from the icy North.

This typical young couple, only a few hectic years into their eternal marriage—only two children away from the eternal vows they had made in the holy temple of God—were each going a separate way. Their ideas of life were different as to spiritual matters (as well as many others)—one wishing to move along almost to what the other thought was fanaticism and the other moving along in a path that the other spouse thought to be almost apostasy; and both were wrong.
They talked about it and lost their tempers and drew farther and farther away from their common goal. Both were good people basically, but they needed unburned telephone poles and untangled wires of communication that were now sagging. Their inability to communicate in reasonableness led to anger, hard words, misunderstandings.
In time, each found another person and set up different communication lines for sympathy and understanding and comfort; and this disloyalty led to physical adventures that resulted in adulteries and two broken homes and disillusioned spouses and crushed hopes and injured children.
And all this because two basically good people let their communication lines get down and permitted the security poles to drag the ground. This is not one couple, it is tens of thousands of couples who started out in a blaze of glory, sweet felicity, and an interresponsibility and with the highest of hopes.

When I was a boy, we lived on a farm in the summer. It was in the country, where the nights were dark. There were no streetlights or anything of the kind. My brother and I slept out-of-doors. On clear nights—and most of those nights were clear and the air was clean—we would lie on our backs and look at the myriads of stars in the heavens. We could identify some of the constellations and other stars as they were illustrated in our encyclopedia. Each night we would trace the Big Dipper, the handle and the cup, to find the North Star.
We came to know of the constancy of that star. As the earth turned, the others appeared to move through the night. But the North Star held its position in line with the axis of the earth. And so it had come to be known as the Polar Star, or the Polestar, or the Lodestar. Through centuries of time, mariners had used it to guide them in their journeys. They had reckoned their bearings by its constancy, thereby avoiding traveling in circles or in the wrong direction, as they moved across the wide, unmarked seas.
Because of those boyhood musings, the Polar Star came to mean something to me. I recognized it as a constant in the midst of change. It was something that could always be counted on, something that was dependable, an anchor in what otherwise appeared to be a moving and unstable firmament.