Gospel Story Finder

Johnny was unhappy. There was no one to play with him. Todd had gone to visit his grandmother. Scott was on a fishing trip with his father. Mother was in the kitchen making bread. Baby was asleep in his room.
It had rained yesterday, but now the sun had broken through the clouds. Johnny was anxious to go outside.
“May I go out to play?” Johnny asked Mother.
“Yes,” she answered, “but be back in time for lunch.”
Johnny pulled on his shoes and ran outside. He skipped down the sidewalk to a field of tall grass. Everything smelled fresh and new after the rain.
When Johnny reached the edge of the field, he turned a cartwheel and rolled to the bottom of the grassy slope.
Lying in the tall grass, Johnny pretended he was in a jungle.
Then he imagined he was in a forest in the mountains. Finally Johnny made believe he was a small worm squirming through the grass.
But playing all alone wasn’t much fun.
Johnny looked up at the sun. It seemed to be dancing through great white puffs of clouds.
The wind shaped the clouds into an elephant with big floppy ears and a long trunk.
Behind the elephant Johnny saw a roly-poly bear dancing along with the sun, a lollipop, a boat, two fish, a dog, and a car.
The car reminded Johnny that Daddy would soon be home for lunch. Johnny looked up again at the sky. The car in the clouds was gone, but he could see Daddy’s car in the driveway.
Mother was putting the baby in the high chair as Johnny came into the house. The kitchen was full of good warm smells.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Mother smiled. “Were you lonely all by yourself in the field?”
“No,” Johnny answered happily, thinking about all the things in the clouds he had seen floating through the sky. “I found some new friends today!”

One February evening in 1968, Neil Andersen found himself the center of attention. He had been selected as a high school junior to represent Idaho in the Student Burgesses, a gathering of students from 37 countries and each of the 50 states in the United States. Students came together in Williamsburg, Virginia, to discuss challenges facing democracy.
This was the first time 16-year-old Neil, raised on a small farm in Pocatello, Idaho, had ever flown on an airplane, traveled so far from home, or been among so many bright and sophisticated young people.
As evening discussions turned to subjects around the world, Neil’s membership in the Church became evident. Some of the delegates began to challenge his beliefs. Young Neil had never before been asked such pointed questions regarding his faith.
“I remember praying in my mind that I would say the words that needed to be spoken,” he recalls. “What followed was a little miracle for me. I told them more than I knew. I felt the power of the Lord as He guided me through sensitive explanations and the sharing of my deep convictions. I could feel the Spirit of the Lord as I spoke. At the conclusion they expressed their appreciation and quietly acknowledged their respect for what I believed.
“I learned that there is a power and influence in this sacred work beyond ourselves and that it is worth defending. I understood that as we are true and faithful, ‘ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh [us] a reason of the hope that is in [us]’ (1 Peter 3:15), the Lord will bless us beyond our own abilities.”

It’s amazing how the Lord works. I had been going through a phase in my life where I had no self-worth, thought I was ugly, and didn’t think I had any talent. When the April New Era came, I sat down to have lunch and decided to read it while I ate. I flipped through the pages to Q&A, because that is the first thing I read. There was my answer. The Lord had sent it to me through the New Era, because He knew I always read it. Thank you for doing such a good job on the New Era. It is surely an inspired work of the Church.Name withheld

“Mom!” Amy yelled. “Garrett hit me! Make him stop!”
“She started it!” Garrett yelled back. “Make her stop!”
“Kids, kids!” Mom said. “Time for the get-along bucket. Garrett, will you get it?”
Garrett frowned at Amy. But he brought the small plastic bucket to Mom.
“Thanks,” Mom said. “Amy, you pick.” The bucket had slips of paper inside. They had to pick one. Then do what it said. Together.
Garrett hoped they got something fun. Last time they had to wash a window together.
Amy closed her eyes. She pulled a paper from the bucket. “Play in the sandbox together.”
Garrett grinned. That sounded fun! He followed Amy outside.
They got to the sandbox. Amy grabbed a stick. She drew a line down the middle of the sand. “Stay on that side,” she said.
“OK,” Garrett said. He used a little shovel to dig some holes. He pushed some toy trucks around. He didn’t say anything.
A minute went by. He looked at Amy. She was poking holes in the sand with the stick.
“Hey,” Garrett said. “Want to dig a huge hole together?”
“OK!” Amy said.
Garrett handed her a shovel. Together they started digging. Garrett used his dump truck to move sand. Soon they made a big hole! They pretended it was a tunnel to the other side of the world.
“Remember when we washed the window together?” Amy asked. “That was fun too.”
Garrett remembered how they made smiley faces on the glass. Then they washed them off.
“Yeah,” he said. “That was fun. Maybe tomorrow we can play together—without the get-along bucket!”

One experience of wanting more holiness came for me in the Salt Lake Temple. I entered the temple for the first time having been told little of what to expect. I had seen the words on the building: “Holiness to the Lord” and “The House of the Lord.” I felt a great sense of anticipation. Yet I wondered if I was prepared to enter.
My mother and father walked ahead of me as we entered the temple. We were asked to show our recommends, certifying our worthiness.
My parents knew the man at the recommend desk. So they lingered a moment to speak with him. I went ahead alone into a large space where everything was sparkling white. I looked up at a ceiling so high above me it seemed an open sky. In that moment, a clear impression came to me that I had been there before.
But then, I heard a very soft voice—it was not my own. The softly spoken words were these: “You have never been here before. You are remembering a moment before you were born. You were in a sacred place like this. You felt the Savior was about to come into the place where you stood. And you felt happiness because you were eager to see Him.”
That experience in the Salt Lake Temple lasted only a moment. Yet the memory of it still brings peace, joy, and quiet happiness.
I learned many lessons that day. One was that the Holy Ghost speaks in a still, small voice. I can hear Him when there is spiritual peace in my heart. He brings a feeling of happiness and assurance that I am becoming more holy. And that always brings the happiness I felt in those first moments in a temple of God.

When Joseph was about six or seven years old, he and his brothers and sisters were stricken with typhus fever. Although the others recovered readily, Joseph was left with a painful sore on his leg. The doctors, using the best medicine they had, treated him, and yet the sore persisted. In order to save Joseph’s life, they said, he would have to lose his leg. Thankfully, however, soon after that diagnosis, the doctors returned to the Smith home and reported that there was a new procedure which might save Joseph’s leg. They wanted to operate immediately and had brought some cord with which to tie little Joseph to the bed so that he wouldn’t thrash about, since they had nothing with which to dull the pain. Young Joseph, however, told them, “You won’t need to tie me.”

The doctors suggested he take some brandy or wine so that the pain might not be so severe. “No,” young Joseph replied. “If my father will sit on the bed and hold me in his arms, I will do whatever is necessary.” Joseph Smith Sr. held in his arms his small child, and the doctors removed the diseased piece of bone. Although young Joseph was lame for some time afterward, he was healed. At such a young age and countless other times throughout his life, Joseph Smith taught us courage—by example.

1 One spring evening in 1901, as eleven-year-old Herbert Barney was walking toward the corral, a spirited horse jumped the fence and landed on him, breaking many of his bones and causing a great deal of bleeding.
2 At that time, there were no doctors close enough to care for Herbert.
3 Because Herbert’s father, Arthur Barney, was president of the small Montana branch, General Authorities frequently came to visit at the Barney home. Two happened to arrive just after the accident.
4 The two General Authorities laid their hands on the unconscious boy’s head and gave him a priesthood blessing.
5 Then the boy was laid on a quilt and gently carried inside the house. When Herbert came to, he seemed to be better.
6 The next day was Sunday and Herbert’s twelfth birthday. He had been looking forward to being ordained a deacon, but his parents were worried about moving him. Herbert was so insistent that they carefully padded a rocking chair with quilts, propped him up in it, and carried him across the road to the small log house that served as their meetinghouse.
7 Herbert was blessed again that he would recover from the accident, and then he was ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood.
8 That afternoon he was well enough to play outside, and he had no further problems from his severe accident.

Youth of the Menan Third Ward, Menan Idaho Stake, really wanted to attend the Hill Cumorah or the Manti pageant for their youth conference, but when they found out that would be impossible, they decided to stage a pageant of their own.
“Have you ever wondered … ?” was the theme of the production that began with two girls sitting at a campfire, wondering what it would have been like before. Twelve scenes from the Book of Mormon and its restoration were reenacted, with the highlight being Christ’s visit to America. “Playing the role of Christ really made me realize the great example to everyone through his actions and his words,” said Swen Gunderson.
The pageant was held one night only, on the North Menan Butte, an extinct volcano covered with cliffs and sagebrush. More than 300 people drove out to the butte to see the 77 youth who were involved. “I really learned a lot about the Book of Mormon that I didn’t know before,” said Kristy Bird. She wasn’t the only one. Everyone agreed that by being involved in this unique project, they felt the book’s powerful spirit.

“I just don’t understand how you can believe in what you’ve never seen. I don’t know how to have that kind of faith.”
I was struck by my brother’s statement. We have a great relationship, and he was confiding in me about some challenges he was facing. He hadn’t been active in the Church for years, so I shared my desires for him to believe in something—anything, really—regarding a loving Heavenly Father and a higher purpose for mortality.
But his words caused me to reflect: Why do I believe in Christ and everything about the gospel when so much is intangible?
Going back to the conversation with my brother, I didn’t know if anything I could say would convince him of the truths I hold dear to my heart. But suddenly, I was reminded of the story of the Apostle Thomas. So I shared it with him.
Thomas was faithful to the Savior during His ministry but would not believe his Master had risen again until he saw Him face to face. When he felt the prints of the nails in His hands, he finally believed, and the Savior told him, “Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed” (John 20:29; emphasis added).
And then I bore my testimony: “I’ve overcome too many challenges in my life to not believe in a Heavenly Father who loves me and a Savior who has helped me find joy and peace through it all. I may not see Them personally, but I see Them through so many instances of goodness in the world. Life is hard, but faith in Them reminds me of who I am and what my purpose is, and I remember the blessings They have promised me. Every time I choose to have faith, I feel in my heart that They are with me, and that the gospel is true.”
We ended our conversation on a good note. I don’t know if he will choose to come back to the gospel any time soon, but I invited him to simply begin with a desire to believe.

As the only member of the Church in her school, Angela has plenty of opportunities to be a missionary. At a birthday party she attended, the girls began watching an inappropriate movie. “I told them, ‘I can’t watch this, because I’m a member of the Church,’” she remembers. She left the room, and another friend who was not a member soon followed. Together they watched a better movie. “When I left, I saw that I was wearing my CTR ring,” Angela says. She is glad she was able to choose the right and set an example for her friends.

A few years passed, and a worthy priesthood holder asked me to marry him in the temple. I said yes, and we were later blessed with three children—two girls and one boy. One of our greatest joys was when our son left for his mission. A spirit of comfort and peace filled our home. It seemed to me that a portion of my longing to serve a mission had been filled.
I was excited when my eldest daughter said she also wanted to serve a mission. Every week in the mission field, she sent me stories of her work. Her testimony inspired me and filled me with the missionary spirit. I prayed for missionary opportunities every day.
One day, I was inspired to ask a friend through a private message on social media if she would be interested in meeting with the missionaries. She said, “Yes!” I filled out an online referral form on LDS.org, and soon the missionaries began to teach her. In three months she joined the Church. Her children followed a few months later. As the Spirit directed me, I invited other friends to listen to the missionaries. When my daughter came home, I too felt that I had completed 18 months of missionary service.
Heavenly Father knew the desires of my heart and what was best for my family and me. I am grateful He granted my desire to serve as a missionary, which had dwelt in my heart for so long.

Inside the Liberty Jail Historic Site in present-day Liberty, Missouri, is a rotunda containing a replica of the jail. In the replica are mannequins representing the Prophet and his associates who were held there. Visitors can now come, sit in a semicircle around the jail, and listen to a history of what happened there.

Jacob Tracy, a priest in the Harrisonville Ward, looks down into the dungeon of the jail. At 5?11? he wouldn’t be able to stand up straight if he were down there. He’s looking at a replica of Hyrum Smith, his fifth-great-grandfather.

He likes to come here with his brother, Joseph, 12, and his sister, Becky, 18, (opposite page) and think about the sacrifices early Church members made. Plus, Jacob says, “Knowing the history of what happened to them can help us. We have so much to look forward to here in Zion.”

Many years ago my brother, LeRoy E. Matthews, and his family lived in a town where a state operated hospital was located.
One day Roy was invited to the hospital superintendent’s office for a brief interview. The superintendent explained that after a great deal of consideration, he had decided to ask Roy to serve as chaplain to the hospital for the coming year. He further explained that for many years it had been the hospital’s policy to appoint a different minister each year from among the churches in that area on a kind of rotation basis. Up to that time, these appointments had gone to clergymen of other churches, even though the town was approximately 50 percent Latter-day Saint.
Roy told the superintendent that he felt honored and would be very happy to accept this appointment.
A few days later, however, Roy was called back to the superintendent’s office, where he learned that the ministers of the area had objected to his appointment. They pointed out that they had nothing against Roy Matthews personally, but were very much opposed to his appointment as chaplain because he was “not even an ordained minister of the gospel.”
The superintendent then asked Roy if he had any document that might substantiate his position as a minister of the gospel. Roy said he would go home and be back in less than an hour with the necessary information.
Shortly afterward, Roy returned to the office and handed the superintendent a card on which was typed his priesthood line of authority, a list showing how ordination to the priesthood had descended to him through earlier brethren who had each been ordained in turn. The superintendent read it carefully and then said, “Do you mean, Roy, that your authority traces back to our Lord?”
“Yes, Doctor, that is correct,” he replied.
The superintendent expressed joy and amazement and asked if he could keep the card for a few days. Of course Roy consented.
Later in the week Roy was called back to the office, where the superintendent explained that he had met with the ministers, had read Roy’s priesthood line of authority to them, and asked if they had anything that could compare with this. Their only reply was that they had each been schooled and ordained in ministerial colleges.
Roy was granted the appointment without further protest or opposition.

In the general Relief Society meeting of September 2006, President Gordon B. Hinckley related an experience shared by a divorced single mother of seven children then ranging in ages from 7 to 16. She had gone across the street to deliver something to a neighbor. She said:
“As I turned around to walk back home, I could see my house lighted up. I could hear echoes of my children as I had walked out of the door a few minutes earlier. They were saying: ‘Mom, what are we going to have for dinner?’ ‘Can you take me to the library?’ ‘I have to get some poster paper tonight.’ Tired and weary, I looked at that house and saw the light on in each of the rooms. I thought of all of those children who were home waiting for me to come and meet their needs. My burdens felt heavier than I could bear.
“I remember looking through tears toward the sky, and I said, ‘Dear Father, I just can’t do it tonight. I’m too tired. I can’t face it. I can’t go home and take care of all those children alone. Could I just come to You and stay with You for just one night? …’
“I didn’t really hear the words of reply, but I heard them in my mind. The answer was: ‘No, little one, you can’t come to me now. … But I can come to you.’”

A short time ago I attended the funeral of a friend’s son. Earlier in the week, the young man was traveling home late at night with friends when the driver of another car fell asleep. The second car crossed the median and smashed head-on into the first. The accident occurred with such swiftness that few, if any, brake marks showed on the highway and both cars were demolished. The accident took three lives, including my friend’s seventeen-year-old son.

Second, death reminds us that there is a spirit in man. As we viewed the remains of our young friend, it was obvious that more than blood had left his body. The light of his spirit no longer animated his facial expression or twinkled in his eyes. He too had given up the ghost, but at a tender, young age.

Another lesson taught by death concerns the importance of eternal families. Just as there are parents to greet a newborn on earth, the scriptures teach that caring family members greet the spirits in paradise and assist them in the adjustments to a new life (see Gen. 25:8; 35:29; 49:33). While I was standing before the casket, the thought came that separation was not only a shock for the parents but also for the young man as he suddenly found himself on the other side of the veil. I suspect that he would like to tell his parents once more how much he loves them. Brothers and sisters, heaven only exists if families are eternal.

Death teaches that we do not experience a fulness of joy in mortality and that everlasting joy can be achieved only with the assistance of the Master (see D&C 93:33–34). Just as the lame man at the pool of Bethesda needed someone stronger than himself to be healed (see John 5:1–9), so we are dependent on the miracles of Christ’s atonement if our souls are to be made whole from grief, sorrow, and sin. If grieving parents and loved ones have faith in the Savior and his plan, death’s sting is softened as Jesus bears the believers’ grief and comforts them through the Holy Spirit. Through Christ, broken hearts are mended and peace replaces anxiety and sorrow. Last week I received a letter from the boy’s parents telling me of the peace they have found through their faith in Christ. They know that they will see their son again and be with him in the eternities. As Isaiah stated concerning the Savior, “Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: … And with his stripes we are healed” (Isa. 53:4–5).

I want to mention a little incident that happened to me in the temple in Salt Lake City. As I walked down the long hall preparing to go into one of the rooms to perform a marriage for a young couple, a woman followed me out of the room after the ceremony. With great agitation, she asked, “Elder Kimball, do you re member me?” I was abashed. It seemed incredible but I could not make the connection. I was much embarrassed, as I had met thousands of people in my time. I finally said, “I’m sorry, but I cannot remember you.” Instead of disappointment, there was a great joy that came into her face. She was relieved. She said. “Oh, I am so grateful you can’t remember me. With my husband, I spent all night with you one time, while we were trying to change our lives. We had committed sin and we were struggling to get rid of it. You labored all night to help us clear it.” She said, “We have repented and changed our lives totally. I am glad you don’t remember me, because if you, one of the apostles, cannot remember me, maybe the Savior cannot remember my sins.” Her face was relieved. She said, “Thank you. Maybe the Lord will remember them no more.” The scriptures say if our sins are totally repented of, and if we totally change our lives, he will remember them no more. (Amsterdam priesthood session, August 7, 1976, p. 6.)

One of the “new” families in the branch is José Felipe Hernández Jorge and his wife, Magnolia. Baptized in Mérida, Mexico, eight years ago, they moved their family to Palenque two years ago and quietly fell into inactivity. “Six or seven months ago, Elder and Sister de la Cruz found us and we became friends,” says Brother Hernández. “We’ve been attending ever since!” After only a few months, he succeeded Elder de la Cruz as branch president.

It is reported that on one occasion when Sir Isaac Newton was thinking seriously concerning the nature of light, he cut a hole in a window blind and a ray of light entered his room. He held a triangular piece of glass in the range of the light, and there were reflected in great beauty all the colors of the rainbow. And for the first time man learned that all of the glorious colors of the universe are locked up in a ray of white light.

Te Awhina’s childhood was rough. She was raised by her grandmother until she was eight, and then she moved from home to home, where drugs and violence were easier to find than food or faith. “There was no talk of a God,” she says, “No talk of finding healing and forgiveness, I grew up with a poison of hatred and bitterness because I was not taught any better.”
As a teen, she was lost. “I had no guidance, no safety, and no role model. I was confused and had nowhere to find peace,” she remembers. She only knew one kind of life back then, and eventually, it led her to a rehabilitation facility for her own alcohol addiction.
Not long after she was released, she met missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She had seen them around, so they were familiar to her, but for some reason on this day, Te Awhina felt compelled to call them over.
“I had a question,” she recalls. “You might think this is a silly question, but when you grow up with no concept of God . . . I just didn’t know.” She said to the missionaries, “If you can answer me one question, I’ll listen to [your message].”
Then she asked: “Is God a man or a woman?”
One of the missionaries replied, “God is our loving Heavenly Father.”
This answer brought an unexpected sense of clarity and peace to Te Awhina. She wanted to learn more. “Okay,” she said to the missionaries. “I’ll listen to you.”
It has now been 10 years since Te Awhina was baptised a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She became a missionary herself, very soon after her baptism, when she served in the Australia Brisbane Mission. Then, in 2020, she married Josh, “the man of my dreams.” The couple looks forward to being sealed to each other—for time and all eternity—as soon as the New Zealand Hamilton Temple is reopened.

There’s another reason Hailey is cheering for everyone. It has to do with her standards.
Hailey had already completed one season with the freshman team and was eager to earn a starting spot on the junior varsity (JV) team. But as she prepared, she ran into a problem.
The coaches held preseason games on Sundays that “were essentially the tryouts for the team,” Hailey said. But she’d promised herself and her Father in Heaven that she’d keep the Sabbath holy. “So I missed 10 games,” she said. “The coaches never really saw me play.”
She made the team, but it became clear she’d spend most of the season on the bench. Instead of becoming discouraged, she chose to encourage her teammates.
“Hailey never complained,” said her Young Women president, Jami. “Instead she became the team’s biggest cheerleader. Everyone knew she’d be there cheering, and they’d talk about what a support she was. She could have become bitter, but instead she just kept smiling.”
Hailey’s JV coach, Jon, agreed. He said no one has “a bigger heart or a greater love for the game” and that “selfless players like Hailey are critical to a team’s success.” Before one game, he said, she made signs for each player and coach using paper plates, a paper flag, and candy. “She’s always taking time for others,” he said.