Gospel Story Finder

My standards were first tested the week before Christmas when I attended the ski patrol party. I walked in the front door and was immediately greeted by seemingly happy and carefree co-workers. People who had never said a word to me before now seemed to think we were best friends. Their beer spilled on my clothes as they stretched their arms out for a hug. A fellow rookie approached me and unleashed his frustration at not having the personal strength that I exhibited in avoiding alcohol. I was surprised by his sincere concern as he continued to share his disappointment in his lack of conviction.
The beer sloshed out of his cup as he gestured with his hands, and I explained to him the Word of Wisdom and the personal choice I made long before not to drink. As I drove home that night, I felt peace that I had been an example to one person.

Having just returned from the land of the Brontës, it was a pleasant surprise to receive the August issue of the New Era and find the article “The Brontë Sisters—Young Authors.” Elevated on the bleak, beautiful, heather-covered moors, and believed to be the authentic “Wuthering Heights,” is a lonesome old stone house that one must reach on foot, hiking along craggy paths that are frequented by tourists wrapped against the blustery winds of even midsummer. They are drawn there, as I was, by the genius of the Brontë sisters and the lure of the Yorkshire moors.
The area is stone country, and many days of our vacation were spent at a farmhouse called “Upper Heights,” just a mile from “Top Withins,” the house that is said to have inspired Wuthering Heights.
I am writing this letter to explain that the old house used to illustrate the article is quite unlike these stone homes of two-foot-thick walls, built to last a century or two.
Muriel J. FearnleyProvo, Utah

The Lord told Joseph Smith to send some of the Apostles on a mission to Great Britain. It was hard for the Apostles to leave their families, but the Lord promised to bless them.
Heber C. Kimball and his wife, Vilate, had a young family. Many of them were very sick.
Brigham Young was also sick, and his family was poor. But Brigham’s wife, Mary Ann, told him, “Go and fill your mission, and the Lord will bless you.”
Heber and Brigham got better, but they were very weak. They wanted to preach the gospel, so they said goodbye to their families and climbed into the back of a wagon to begin their journey.
After a long trip across the ocean, Heber and Brigham arrived in Great Britain. With other Apostles, they taught many people the gospel. Thousands of people were baptized into Jesus Christ’s Church. Many of them sailed across the ocean to join the Saints in the United States.
The Lord kept His promise to take care of Heber’s and Brigham’s families while they were serving Him as missionaries.
Read and watch Doctrine and Covenants Stories in the Gospel Library under Scriptures and Scripture Stories.

On October 3, 1918, President Joseph F. Smith was pondering on the scriptures, including this one from Peter: “For this cause was the gospel preached also to them that are dead, that they might be judged according to men in the flesh, but live according to God in the spirit.” (1 Pet. 4:6.)
There was opened to him a marvelous vision. In it he saw the concourses of the righteous. And he saw Christ ministering among them. Then he saw those who had not had the opportunity, and those who had not been valiant. And he saw the work for their redemption. And I quote his record of this vision:
“I perceived that the Lord went not in person among the wicked and the disobedient who had rejected the truth, to teach them; but behold, from among the righteous he organized his forces and appointed messengers, clothed with power and authority, and commissioned them to go forth and carry the light of the gospel to them that were in darkness, even to all the spirits of men. And thus was the gospel preached to the dead.” (“Vision of the Redemption of the Dead,” The Utah Genealogical and Historical Magazine, Jan. 1919, p. 3.) [D&C 138:29–30]

As I walked along the trail, prairie grass rippled in the breeze like gentle ocean waves. My cow turned aside to eat some grass that was dry and brown from the heat. “Get back here!” I called. “We can find you better grass than that.”
Although the wind was cool and pleasant, I was hot from carrying my four-year-old brother, James. He had the measles, and Mother, who was not feeling well, had tied him onto my back with her shawl. I could feel hard knots of muscle forming in the sore spots on my back, but I had no choice but to keep moving. The wagon train would pass us by if we stopped.
Our family cow started to wander off again, and I ran after her. Making sure she got enough to eat was an endless process. But we needed the milk, and I was determined to make it to Zion safe and sound even if I had to herd a cow and carry my little brother the whole way.
That night in camp I milked the cow and laid James down to sleep. I doubted that he would, but I was determined to get as much rest as I could before his sickly cries woke me. Unfortunately, I was nudged before I even had a chance to drift off to sleep. Father, still wearing his dusty trail clothes, was standing there with a concerned look on his face.
“Margaret, did you tie the cow to the wagon?” he asked.
Our cow was nowhere to be seen, and I soon found myself back on the prairie. We started out looking near camp, but there was no trace of her. I left the search group and walked over a small hill near the river. The air was full of the chirping of crickets and the rustle of wind in the grass. I was barefooted, but the evening was warm and the prairie dirt was hard and dry, so I didn’t mind.
Suddenly the ground turned soft beneath my feet—and moved! I froze, working up the courage to look down. When I did, I wished I hadn’t. I was standing in a bed of snakes! They slithered all about my feet, their scales glinting in the rising moon. I grew weak at the knees and almost fainted into the writhing mass, but I forced myself to stiffen. What should I do?
I decided to say a prayer. It was short, but definitely sincere. Immediately after saying “amen,” I jumped sideways. Heavenly Father must have blessed my leap, because I landed just clear of the snakes. I ran off a ways and collapsed.
I had barely caught my breath when I heard my father. “Margaret!” he called. I ran to the sound of his voice and threw my arms around him. “Are you all right?” he asked.
I smiled up at him, but I didn’t let go. “I’m fine now,” I said. I told him my story as he took me back to the wagons. I was so grateful to be safe that when I saw our cow I gave her a kiss on her disobedient nose.
We arrived safely in Utah on October 4, 1859, thanks to Heavenly Father’s watchful care. And, as always, the cow was by my side.

In July 1972 Harold B. Lee became the eleventh President of the Church. One hour after the announcement was made, he met with newspaper and television reporters. One of them asked him if he had a message for Church members.
President Lee said: “The safety of the Church lies in the members keeping the commandments. There is nothing more important that I could say. As they keep the commandments, blessings will come.”

I am around and hear filthy language all day at school. But I know several nonmembers who look up to me for not swearing, so I’m not about to start now. We need to remember to set a good example for everybody and to only say things that we would want Christ to hear us say.
Andrea Riding, 15Troutdale, Oregon

Friends and family are completely used to Shawn’s height, but they find it entertaining to go places with him and notice other people’s reactions.
“My family treats me horribly when we go to the stores,” Shawn says, in mock complaint. Justin and sisters Tasha, 15, and Adrianne, 9, just smile because they know what he is going to say next. “We’ll all be walking together, my family and friends, and I’ll look around and no one will be there. I turn around, and they are about six or eight meters behind me, watching everyone look at me. I’ll say, ‘Thanks a lot, guys.’”
His sister, Tasha, adds, “You can’t believe the looks he gets.”

In the Granite 12th Ward, Sandy Granite Stake, the girls combined a valuable lesson in sparing someone’s feelings with learning the art of quilting. Heidi Tuft explains that it all started at camp. “It was one girl’s birthday. Somebody called her a nickname that hurt her feelings. We all wanted to apologize, so we wrote a letter and each of us signed it with a nickname we didn’t care for. Our leader signed hers as ‘Frog Master.’ After that, frogs became our mascots.” The girls appliquéd comical pictures of frogs on a quilt top and learned to make the tiny, even stitches required in quilting. Heidi said, “It was hard learning to quilt. We had to keep starting over until we learned how.” When the quilt was completed, the girls presented it to a counselor in the bishopric. The quilt became a visual reminder of the lessons they had learned together. The gift of kindness had been added to their baskets.

Our family is learning from a close relative, six-year-old Liam. This past year he has battled aggressive brain cancer. After two difficult surgeries, it was decided that radiation would also be necessary. During these radiation treatments, he was required to be all alone and lie absolutely still. Liam did not want to be sedated because he disliked the way it made him feel. He was determined that if he could just hear his dad’s voice over the intercom, he could lie still without the sedative.
During these anxious times, his dad spoke to him with words of encouragement and love. “Liam, although you can’t see me, I am right here. I know you can do it. I love you.” Liam successfully accomplished the 33 required radiation treatments while holding perfectly still, a feat his doctors thought would be impossible without sedation for one so young. Through months of pain and difficulty, Liam’s contagious optimism has been a powerful example of meeting adversity with hope and even happiness. His doctors, nurses, and countless others have been inspired by his courage.
We are all learning important lessons from Liam—lessons about choosing faith and trusting in the Lord. Just like Liam, we cannot see our Heavenly Father, but we can listen for His voice to give us the strength we need to endure the challenges of life.
Could Liam’s example help us to better understand King Benjamin’s words to become as a child—submissive, meek, humble, patient, and full of love? (see Mosiah 3:19).

Next to the gospel, the most helpful thing I learned in my youth was the value of work. When I was eight, I joined 4-H Club and started raising lambs and calves. As a nine-year-old, I had the grand champion lamb at The Dalles Livestock Show. I learned to keep my own books, and I made a profit. I also mowed lawns. When I was 10, I started shining shoes in the only barbershop in town.
We had a cow, and I took care of it, milked it, and delivered milk to a couple of customers. Then I delivered the local newspaper, the Dalles Chronicle. I earned my own money and was able to buy the bicycle I wanted.
You children need to know that work is a good thing. It is enjoyable. Earning your own money is good. It gives you freedom to buy what you need. I always paid my tithing first, and I always had enough money because I did and because I had learned to work. Children, what you earn will make you a lot happier than things that are given to you for free.

Our six-year-old grandson, Oli, who affectionately calls me “Poppy,” had to get something from the car. His dad stood inside the house and, without Oli being aware, unlocked the car door remotely as Oli approached it, then locked it again when he was done. Oli then ran inside with a big smile!
All the family asked him, “How did you get the car door to unlock for you, then to lock again?” He just smiled.
Our daughter, his mother, said, “Maybe it’s like when Poppy does it—maybe you have magic powers like him!”
When it happened a second time a few minutes later, his response to further questions about his newfound abilities was: “It’s amazing! I think it’s because Poppy loves me and is one of my best friends, and he takes care of me!”

One evening after work, years ago, I boarded my usual bus home to New Jersey from New York City. The woman I happened to sit next to noticed what I was writing on my computer and asked, “You believe in … Christ?” …

Well, I informed my new friend that we have a spirit in addition to a body and that God is the Father of our spirits. … Because He loves her and all His children, He made a plan for us to receive a body in the image of His glorified body, be part of a family, and return to His loving presence to enjoy eternal life with our families like He does with His. But, I said, we would face two main obstacles in this necessarily fallen world: (1) physical death—the separation of our bodies from our spirits. … And (2) spiritual death—our separation from God because our sins, mistakes, and flaws as mortals distance us from His holy presence. …

I testified to my friend, and I witness to you, that Jesus Christ is [the] Savior, that He had to suffer, die, and rise again—His infinite Atonement—to redeem all humanity from physical death and to give eternal life with God and our families to all who would follow Him. …

In my growing-up years in Germany, I attended church in many different locations and circumstances—in humble back rooms, in impressive villas, and in very functional, modern chapels. All of these buildings had one important factor in common: the Spirit of God was present; the love of the Savior could be felt as we assembled as a branch or ward family.
The Zwickau chapel had an old air-driven organ. Every Sunday a young man was assigned to push up and down the sturdy lever that operated the bellows to make the organ work. Even before I was an Aaronic Priesthood bearer, I sometimes had the great privilege to assist in this important task.
While the congregation sang our beloved hymns of the Restoration, I pumped with all my strength so the organ would not run out of wind. The eyes of the organist unmistakably indicated whether I was doing fine or needed to increase my efforts quickly. I always felt honored by the importance of this duty and the trust that the organist had placed in me. It was a wonderful feeling of accomplishment to have a responsibility and to be part of this great work.
There was an additional benefit that came from this assignment: the bellows operator sat in a seat that offered a great view of a stained-glass window that beautified the front part of the chapel. The stained glass portrayed the First Vision, with Joseph Smith kneeling in the Sacred Grove, looking up toward heaven and into a pillar of light.
During the hymns of the congregation and even during talks and testimonies given by our members, I often looked at this depiction of a most sacred moment in world history. In my mind’s eye I saw Joseph receiving knowledge, witness, and divine instructions as he became a blessed instrument in the hand of our Heavenly Father.
I felt a special spirit while looking at the beautiful scene in this window picture of a believing young boy in a sacred grove who made a courageous decision to earnestly pray to our Heavenly Father, who listened and responded lovingly to him.
Here I was, a young boy in post–World War II Germany, living in a city in ruins, thousands of miles away from Palmyra in North America and more than a hundred years after the event actually took place. By the universal power of the Holy Ghost, I felt in my heart and in my mind that it was true, that Joseph Smith saw God and Jesus Christ and heard Their voices. The Spirit of God comforted my soul at this young age with an assurance of the reality of this sacred moment that resulted in the beginning of a worldwide movement destined to “roll forth, until it has filled the whole earth” (D&C 65:2). I believed Joseph Smith’s testimony of that glorious experience in the Sacred Grove then, and I know it now. God has spoken to mankind again!

Elder Ballard met with missionaries serving in Sweden and spoke to young single adults in Stockholm. That meeting was broadcast to 402 meetinghouses in the Europe Area. He spoke about the importance of marriage and emphasized that the choices the young adults make about living gospel principles will determine the future of the Church. He challenged them each to either bring one person into the Church or to bring someone back to the Church by the end of the year.

Illustration by Emily Call
Ever since I was a young boy, I wanted to serve a mission. But in my second year of high school, I started to experience numbness in my feet, knees, and arms. Within weeks, I couldn’t walk, run, or climb stairs.
I started on some medications, thinking it would solve the problem quickly so I could go back to school and prepare for my mission. But instead, I kept getting worse. Soon I couldn’t do anything on my own—I couldn’t brush my hair or even stand up to pick up a TV remote.
I received multiple priesthood blessings, but the disease would not leave me alone. I was admitted to a hospital in Accra where experienced doctors worked on me, but they couldn’t figure out what was wrong. I started to think I would never walk again, much less serve a mission.
While I was in the hospital, the mission president and his wife came to visit me and my mum. He asked me if I would like to serve a mission. I told him I had wanted to, before I got sick. He said, “Don’t worry, you will serve a mission.”
The day after we got home from the hospital, I was sitting with my mum when I heard a voice tell me to stand up and walk. I was scared of falling, but I knew I had to try. I stood up on my own. Slowly, I was able to take my first step, which boosted my confidence. I continued taking additional steps. Even though I was shaky at first, I knew that because of my faith in Jesus Christ and the priesthood blessings I had received, I would be able to serve a mission now.
I went back to school, and immediately after finishing, I submitted my mission papers. I received my call some months later to serve in the Nigeria Lagos Mission. Serving the Lord and teaching His children about the restored gospel gave me so much joy. Though not everyone is healed like I was, I know the Lord will bless anyone, according to His will, when we have faith in Him.
The author lives in Ghana.

While many Church members may experience a period in their lives when they become less active, the majority retain their belief in the gospel and eventually return to full activity. One man, who had wandered away from gospel teachings when he was young, recalled: “Always in the back of my mind I knew that what I was doing was wrong and that the Church was right. I knew that no matter what, the Lord loved me and cared about me. I think that’s what made the difference.” Like this brother, many less-active members retain a basic knowledge of gospel truths and identify themselves in their own minds as Latter-day Saints.

I always knew God cared about us, but I never realized how much He cares. It took a long day in Mexico for me to even begin to fathom how intricate His designs are.
My family rose on a Saturday morning, so early that the San Diego, California, sky had only just begun to turn the soft gray of predawn June. We packed into the car, all eight of us squashing into every available seatbelt of our van.
Our group—a collection of stake leaders, high councilors, and their families—met up at the church, forming a caravan of nine cars. President Heap had included Project Mercy in the stake calendars with good reason. An isolated Tijuana community needed volunteers to help build houses for their families, and who among us couldn’t spare a single Saturday?
The 20-mile (32-km) drive from San Diego to Mexico passed quickly. In the streets of Tijuana, my first impression was that no one cared about these neighborhoods. Surely, no one looked very hard at them, if they even admitted to seeing them at all.
We reached our destination on the outskirts of Tijuana soon after the sun began rising to greet us. All around we saw clusters of families. Their clothes were worn. Many had no shoes. Dogs trotted through the grounds, unclaimed and uncared for. Each family was delighted at our arrival: today they might have a home.
Our supplies were simple, our directions simpler still. Laborers had poured concrete foundations a month ago. Planks of plywood lay neatly stacked to one side of the road. Build four walls; add a roof; paint the finished handiwork of last week’s volunteers. And so we did, bursting into activity. The men immediately pulled on gloves and strapped on tool belts. The women handed out paintbrushes, mixing bright, fresh colors into large paint buckets.
The sun broke over us glaringly. Each and every one of us broke into a hard sweat before the second hour was up, but at the end of the day we left two families with freshly painted houses, and one with a new home altogether. It was still unpainted, but I could see that it didn’t matter to the father. He looked past the rough surfaces to the stable walls.
This last family transformed my day’s labor into joy. President Heap asked to say a blessing over their new home, and they allowed it. We all clustered into its one common room, the father standing beside President Heap. Brother Woods, still fluent from a Spanish-speaking mission, offered words I couldn’t understand, but which rolled through the house and left peace in their wake. The family bowed their heads with us in gratitude. The father cried.
After the prayer, we gathered into the cars and reversed down a narrow lane, into a wide, flat area before we could turn and pull onto the road’s shoulder. My family, last in the caravan, took the most time in this procedure, our van being the largest car in the group. I reflected back on all I had seen, now mindful of the stability of my own life. I had full access to the “necessities.” These families gained them in gradual, lurching steps, always according to the schedules of helpful strangers.
The day left us tired and satisfied, but with one regret: no one had thought to bring a Book of Mormon.
With all the men and women who had come, I wondered how we could have forgotten this single item. Finally our van was turned around, rolling into place on the road. No others from our group left. A hand pointed out an open window, over the tracts of desert.
Hiking across the road, 30 feet behind us, were two missionaries.
President Heap stepped out of his car and waved the missionaries over. They spoke for a few brief minutes, before President Heap pointed them on, smiling, toward the home we had left only minutes ago.
Even though none of us had thought to bring a Book of Mormon for that family, Someone else had thought to provide one.
I recalled my first impression of this place and realized how wrong I had been. Someone had seen this neglected community. Someone had cared.
When we had forgotten, He had remembered.

Clara loved her family’s Christmas Eve traditions. First they ate baked fish for dinner and Christmas cookies for dessert. Then they visited the Christmas market. When they got home, they read the Christmas story from the Bible together. And before bed they lit the Christmas tree for the first time and got to open one present each. It was Clara’s favorite night of the year. She could hardly wait!

Until Mom made an announcement.

“We’re having a special Christmas Eve guest this year. Remember Ms. Rainer?”

Clara groaned. “The neighbor Dad invited to church last week?”

“That’s right. Dad’s picking her up now.”

Clara plopped into a chair. How could she relax and have fun with a stranger around? Christmas Eve was ruined! Well, Ms. Rainer hadn’t come to church when Dad invited her. Maybe she wouldn’t come this time either.

But when Dad came through the door, the “special guest” was with him. Ms. Rainer looked tired and kind of sad. Clara said hello. But she didn’t want to say anything else. At dinner she just focused on her food while Mom and Dad chatted with Ms. Rainer.

“Have you ever taken dance lessons?” asked a soft voice. Clara saw that Ms. Rainer was waiting for her to answer. She nodded and looked back down at her plate.

“Me too,” said Ms. Rainer, her voice still quiet. “What’s your favorite dance style?”

Clara shrugged and pushed her vegetables around her plate.

“I love ballet,” Ms. Rainer said. “I was on a dance team at university. One year we traveled all over Europe. It was amazing.”

Clara looked up. That did sound amazing.

“What else do you like?” asked Clara.

Ms. Rainer gave a small smile. “Playing the piano. And math.”

Clara’s eyes got big. “Really? Math is my favorite subject!”

Clara talked to Ms. Rainer for the rest of dinner. She found out that Ms. Rainer had a college degree in math and was studying to become a math professor when she met her husband. He had made some bad choices and was now in prison.

After dinner Clara stayed by Ms. Rainer while they walked around the Christmas market. And when they read the Christmas story, she shared her scriptures with Ms. Rainer so she could follow along.

Soon it was time to open presents. Clara got some cozy purple pajamas. She couldn’t wait to put them on! But she felt a little bad that Ms. Rainer didn’t have a present.

Just then Mom handed a gift to Ms. Rainer. Ms. Rainer smiled shyly and unwrapped a pair of dark blue socks. She looked up at Mom with watery eyes. “Thank you. You really didn’t need to get me anything.”

Clara went to her bedroom and put on her new pajamas. She couldn’t stop thinking about Ms. Rainer. She seemed so grateful to get socks for Christmas!

As Clara slipped her own fuzzy socks on, she heard beautiful music begin to play. She ran downstairs to find Mom and Dad singing carols while Ms. Rainer played the piano. Clara joined in. As she sang, a warm feeling grew in her heart. “I guess it’s not so bad to have a guest on Christmas Eve,” she thought.

On Sunday, Ms. Rainer came to church and sat with Clara’s family during sacrament meeting. She looked really happy. Clara smiled as she shared her hymnbook with Ms. Rainer. Maybe it was time to add a new Christmas Eve tradition.

Born in 2007, Ishamel was healthy growing up until age nine. One day he returned home from school and reported to his mother that his eyes were itching. The next morning his eyes were swollen, and he was taken to the hospital, where he went through surgery but never regained his sight.
Ishmael had to leave his primary school and got enrolled at a school for the blind in Sierra Leone. It was a difficult time for him and his family because he had to leave his parents to stay at the school’s boarding home. He eventually adjusted to his new environment and began learning how to use braille. Despite his visual impairment, Ishmael has a deep passion for education and a strong desire to always be learning something new.
He accepted an invitation extended to him by Sister Ramatu Kanneh, the bishop’s wife, to attend seminary and Succeed in School (SIS) classes in September 2024. The first day he came, he was met with a warm, welcoming reception from the teacher and the other students. In no time he became close friends with Alfred Kargbeni, who walks him to and from class every day.
To ensure he could fully participate and retain the information covered, he uses an audio recorder to capture the lessons, which he then listens to intently once back home. There, he would carefully transcribe the recorded content using a braille writing instrument. Regrettably, Brother Ishmael’s recorder eventually malfunctioned, leaving him without a means to document the lessons. Nevertheless, he remained dedicated, finding solace in the caring interactions with his fellow classmates.
After one seminary class Ishmael said, “I have made up my mind that this is really the Church of Jesus Christ”. He was then introduced to the missionaries by Alfred, and after obtaining permission from his parents, he was baptized on January 4, 2025. As he continued attending SIS and seminary classes, he developed the desire to read the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon, so he started inquiring about the possibility of getting a braille copy.
We (the Seminaries and Institutes employees) told his story in one of our SIS meetings, and our colleagues in Utah got him a copy of the Book of Mormon in braille. We were all surprised at the huge size of the book when it arrived. In the suitcase was also a brand-new recorder. You can imagine Ishmael’s joy when we handed him the braille Book of Mormon and the recorder.
Brother Ishmael expressed his gratitude and love for the things he is learning. “SIS has helped me deepen my love for reading and solving math problems,” he says. “I am now more confident in managing my schoolwork. I am also growing spiritually through the things I am learning in seminary.”
Ishmael’s parents are currently taking the missionary lessons as he has been using every opportunity to share with them the things he is learning.