Gospel Story Finder

Youth just like you have already started seeing the blessings of striving to become more like Jesus Christ in their everyday lives. Danika and Natasha R., 15, from Ohio, USA, are twin sisters who decided to do just that. Their dad is from Thailand, and because they sometimes visit family there, Danika and Natasha decided they wanted to learn more about Thai food and language.

Danika made a goal to learn to cook some Thai soup recipes. She shopped for the ingredients and practiced new cooking techniques with her dad. Natasha wanted to learn to communicate with her family in Thailand, so she set a goal to learn one new Thai word each day. She used a website to aid her language study and practiced pronouncing words with her dad.

As Danika and Natasha worked on their goals, they wanted to share what they learned with the other young women in their ward. Their leaders helped them organize an activity to learn more about Thailand. At the activity, Danika cooked soup for everyone while Natasha taught them some Thai words.

The sisters also included their friend Grace in the activity. Grace had a personal goal to get better at public speaking, so she gave a presentation on how to use chopsticks so they could eat their soup!

By practicing their goals and working with their leaders and other young women, Danika and Natasha were able to plan a fun night to enjoy with their friends.

Danika and Natasha share that they have received many blessings from striving to learn more about their heritage and celebrating it with their family and other young women. Their experience didn’t come without challenges. Natasha explains, “I was in school while I was learning Thai, so it was sometimes hard to find time to do it.” Danika adds, “At the activity, I had a little bit of trouble making the soup on my own since my dad wasn’t there.” But the sisters both agree that in the end, it was worth it.

Danika says, “I like that I got to spend time with my dad, and it helped me feel closer to my family.” She also explains, “Making and keeping my personal goals helped me come closer to Jesus Christ by giving me a clear path to helping myself and others. Instead of mindlessly milling around like some nights, I had a set standard to follow and keep to, and that gave me more time to think about Christ.”

Natasha says making and keeping her goal “really got me to think deeply about what I needed and wanted to do to become closer to Christ.” She also notes that although she has shifted her focus to a new goal, she was inspired to keep learning Thai: “My original goal was to learn Thai so I can speak to my family in Thailand, so I want to keep learning Thai so I can talk to them.”

Danika and Natasha’s balanced approach to their personal development helped them learn more about their dad’s culture, have fun with friends, and come closer to their family and the Savior—and that’s what Children and Youth is all about.

Recalling his childhood in the Church of England, Elder Cuthbert said, “I sang in the church choir in three services each Sunday. The choirmistress was a good teacher, and I learned to love the Psalms, which are songs of praise and thanksgiving to God. When I was eleven, the choirmistress went to Zululand, South Africa, as a missionary. Her example helped me become interested in missionary work at an early age.
“After I joined the Lord’s true Church, He called me as a district missionary, then as a stake missionary, and later as a mission president. Now, as a General Authority, I will always be a missionary. A Seventy is a special witness of Jesus Christ to all the world.
“I am sure that you Primary children know many missionaries, some perhaps in your own family. They are examples for you to follow; Jesus wants all of us to be missionaries. One of my favorite scriptures is in Matthew, when Jesus was instructing His apostles just before He ascended into heaven: ‘Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost’ (Matt. 28:19). He is saying the same to us today through His prophet, President Benson. Boys and girls, start preparing for your missions now—by study, by prayer, and by helping others.
“I have seen many examples of faith and courage among young missionaries in the Church. Ian Menzies, a missionary in Scotland, said, ‘I must finish my mission,’ even though he had a tumor on his brain. Through faith and determination and priesthood administration, he accomplished what others said was impossible. Peter Chaya, a missionary in Zimbabwe, Africa, fulfilled his mission on crutches. He had lost the use of both legs through polio when he was a child. Pip Lees served as a stake missionary in England. Her companion pushed her door to door in a wheelchair for two years.
“During December 1987, I had some Church assignments in Bolivia, a beautiful South American country where the Church is growing rapidly but where the people have very little. The Regional Representative, Elder Philip Kradolfer, accompanied me, and he brought a large suitcase full of toys. Just before Christmas each year, his children give up some of their toys to help the children living in the Altiplano, or high plateau region, of Bolivia. It was wonderful to see the children’s faces as they received a doll, a game, a book, or a purse. Jesus taught that it is better to give than to receive, and I am sure that you have felt the same happiness when you have been a secret helper.
“While serving in South America last year,” Elder Cuthbert recalled, “I met many people who had little to eat and hardly a roof over their heads. Many are hearing the gospel and are being baptized. The children are attending Primary and are preparing for missions, just like you.
“In your prayers, would you remember these boys and girls who have a very hard life? As you prayerfully express thanks for the blessings that you enjoy, fill yourself up with gratitude and let it overflow into service. As you help other children, you will not want so much for yourselves.”

Kids from Cairns, Townsville, Charters Towers, and Mackay in Australia flocked to the famous Harbour as part of a big youth conference held recently.
Debra Croucher reports they played volleyball and softball and barbecued burgers on the beach. Then the groups gathered around a fire for a sing-along under the stars. Next day they bussed to Eungella National Park and had workshop discussion groups, a dance, and competitive sports events. Sunday’s testimony meeting put a memorable touch on a great gathering.

He ministered in power to relieve the considerable suffering experienced by the Saints. On the “day of God’s power,” July 22, 1839, Joseph lay stricken with a vile disease, as were many of the Saints. Neighbor cared for neighbor, parents for children, and children for parents. There were so many ill that the caregivers were overwhelmed and exhausted. Moved upon by the Spirit, Joseph rose from his sick bed and went across the river to Montrose, Iowa. Dozens were immediately healed on that day. He states in his journal, “Many of the sick were this day raised up by the power of God.”[40]

Our journey in life can throw surprises at us; choices that, at the time, may seem small, but can become major factors in the direction of our lives. My surprise came in the form of a third family that entered my life. After I graduated from the Church College of Western Samoa, I moved to American Samoa to live with my mother’s family, in Vailoa. My mom’s family were members of the La Mo Sa, the London Missionary Society, or Congregational Christian Church in American Samoa. Because Vailoa did not allow Mormons to proselyte, I kept my membership in the Church a secret from my family there and every Sunday, pretending to go to the village church, I would sneak off and attend the Mormon Church in Leone. With the help of some ward members, my family eventually learned of my membership and grew to accept my choice. While attending the community college, I took up a housekeeping job for an American couple who were there managing a small business as jewelers. Bill and Sharon McCarthy were good friends with my older sister and her husband. The McCarthy’s had no children of their own and gained an interest in adopting a child from Samoa. They asked my grandmother if they could adopt my youngest brother, Joe, but she offered for them to adopt me instead.

It seems like a whirlwind to me now, as I think about everything that happened in my life that year. The business the McCarthy’s were managing shut down, so, shortly after the adoption they made plans to move back to Hawaii. Even though the adoption was legal, and I was now known as Ivona McCarthy, they could not sponsor me into the United States because I was too old. My mom, Sharon McCarthy, brought high school and community college transcripts and put in applications at multiple colleges in Hawaii on my behalf, trying to obtain an I-20 for a student visa, but was unsuccessful until she called BYUH, the only school that was willing to accept my application. Not wanting to leave me behind, my new mom visited Nolan Reed, the Director of Admissions for Brigham Young University-Hawaii, and he immediately approved my application and visa for the upcoming semester, and in November 1983, I left Samoa for the first time making the journey to Hawaii.

Perhaps you will recognize yourself and recall your memories of youth as I share with you, with the permission of my wife, an experience I had when I was a young man in school and there was this young lady who caused a strange feeling within me. I cannot recall exactly how she looked or what kind of character she really had, but there she was. Just being in the same room with her made me so nervous and so helpless that I could hardly speak and hardly breathe for fear of making a fool of myself. My feelings for her were so tender that I could hardly avoid thinking of her. It seemed that in everything that I was doing, she was in my thoughts. What could I do to please her? Or even to save her life in giving my blood? What a wonderful way from our Heavenly Father—to be allowed to experience in the age of our tender youth the purity and strength of what divine love is made of!

After a year of experiencing these feelings and not being able to endure her presence and not even being able to speak to her out of nervousness, I was finally courageous enough at Christmastime to write her a very brief letter. As these were times of starvation in Germany and goodies were hard to come by, I saved the special treats I received for Christmas, overcoming my own craving for them in order to keep them as a present or a gift to her if she would answer my letter. But she never did! After three weeks of waiting in vain, I found myself back with my feet on the ground, and I devoured all the goodies in one quick action and brushed off the feelings for her that I had. It is interesting to note that as I found myself with my feet on the ground without this tender feeling, the desire and willingness to sacrifice or to go the extra mile for her sake also vanished. I often think that it was good that she did not write back so the way could be preserved for me to find my faithful, wonderful companion who is with me today.

My name is Nene Quame Nyame S. I’m 14 years old, and I live in Ghana.
When I first went to senior high school, there was one thing I struggled with: when a new subject was introduced, I would find it difficult to understand. One evening I prayed to Heavenly Father to help me understand and overcome that challenge. I had faith, and I was able to understand better. Since then, prayer and faith have been on my to-do list in school and everywhere I go. Being in a boys school is challenging because of some of the immoral things students do. When that happens, the words of my parents come to my mind: “Don’t do something that will drive the Holy Ghost away.” I am grateful to my mum, who always reminds me to listen to the Holy Ghost. When we do what is right, God blesses us.
Nene Quame Nyame S., 14, Ghana.

Grace has several meanings. I would like to mention one.
I was with my dad once when he was selling something. Dad was apprehensive that there would be some difficulty haggling over price. In fact, the buyer addressed the price by saying that it was fair but then asked if dad could “show him some grace” on the price. Dad gave him a modest discount on the agreed price. The buyer had agreed that the price was fair and therefore he had no claim to demand a reduction, but dad gave him one anyway. This is the meaning of grace that I want to remind you of. Grace is beautiful because she works where fairness or justice have no power. When justice can’t, grace gives anyway. We have no right to the Lord’s saving or redeeming power, but He gives anyway—not just because He can show grace, but because He is full of grace [13] and “[His] grace is sufficient for all.” [14] Our Savior’s grace is abundant in any true understanding of repentance.

Through the long hours of the night, I kept a lonely vigil by the nursery window. Inside the nursery, a tiny boy struggled for breath. The day before, we had rushed nearly 160 kilometers from our ranch to the hospital. The baby was born shortly after our arrival, six weeks premature. He looked like a fine, healthy boy, but the doctor told us that his lungs had been slow in developing and that he was fighting a desperate battle for air.
A few hours before, I had given Matthew his name and a father’s blessing. As I had blessed him, the Spirit had assured me that he would someday be a part of our family.
Little Matthew continued to cling to life until his mother was able to come to the nursery to see him. He died before we left the room. It seemed to me that he had only waited for her to have one look before he returned to his heavenly home.
The shock of our son’s death left my wife in such a daze that she could not cry. It was only after the small graveside service, when we had returned home to the ranch, that she was finally able to release her grief. She wept for a long time.
The emptiness of losing a baby after those long months of expecting him was very hard on her. She wasn’t really happy again until the next baby, a fine healthy boy, arrived.

An experience I had as a missionary brought this lesson home to me. It was a Saturday morning in Laredo during August. We were expecting the mission president’s first counselor the following day to conduct a district conference. I went out early to do some cleanup in front of our chapel. (I had to do this work early to avoid the heat later in the day.) My companion was working inside on some reports. Two other missionaries chose to sleep in. At about 6:30 a car drove up, and out stepped not the president’s counselor whom we expected the next day but the mission president himself! He had come unannounced to look at some property we were buying. In subsequent weeks he went around the mission speaking about the Second Coming and likening it to his visit to Laredo when he found two elders working and two sleeping. (I’m grateful I hadn’t decided to sleep in on that particular morning!)

A few years ago, our second son was accepted into Pharmacy school pending completion of a couple of classes that he was taking on line. Pharmacy school is a competitive doctorate program and he was concerned about being accepted from the beginning. He was incredibly relieved and delighted to get in. He worked to complete his online classes but it was summer and the teachers were often on vacation and slow to correct and return his homework. To be proactive, he talked to the admissions department at the Pharmacy school to let them know that he was cutting it close on the deadline to finish the classes. He was told that as long as the classes were completed before school started he would be fine. You can appreciate how discouraged he was when a different person contacted him later and told him he had been given the wrong information. If he couldn’t submit his grades the next day he would miss the deadline, would not be admitted for that year and would have to reapply to the program again. Getting the grades submitted in twenty-four hours was impossible. There was nothing he could do to make it happen. He was devastated. His first impulse was to give up completely. Playing video games in our basement for the rest of his life may have been his fall back plan. He was terribly discouraged, it took some time to bounce back, but he didn’t quit. He finished his classes, reapplied to school and was accepted for the following year. He graduated last June and is working as a pharmacist in a Utah hospital.

I was wondering if The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true. I prayed about it on Saturday night and didn’t get an answer that night. On Sunday morning I prayed about it again, and right when I said the words “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” my heart got very warm. I felt the Holy Ghost say to me, “Yes, it is the true church.”Audrey Jensen, age 8, South Euclid, Ohio

An instance when Japanese leaders appreciated the Church’s timely assistance was when local priesthood leaders identified an overwhelmed refugee shelter set up at a school in an isolated area. Together with the public affairs council and the local Church welfare manager, the priesthood leaders arranged for food and other relief supplies to be delivered to the shelter, which was housing approximately 270 displaced tsunami victims.
Although those at the shelter were initially surprised to receive assistance from a Christian church, the second time Mormon Helping Hands volunteers came, wearing their yellow vests, one child yelled, “Here they come! I wonder what they brought this time!”
After receiving the donations, the shelter coordinator told Elder and Sister Grames, “Your church brought us the first meat and fresh vegetables we had after the earthquake.”
“It felt good,” says Sister Grames, “to really be a helping hand not only to the shelter but also to the priesthood leaders who were trying so hard to reach those in need.”
Elder Niiyama explains another positive result of the council’s efforts: “We found that sharing information about the Church’s relief work with members as well as outside opinion leaders was very vital to our public affairs objectives. I feel people outside of the Church now have a better image of the Church and members are more confident in the strength of the Church in Japan.”

One beautiful morning my family and I passed our bishop’s home. We noticed two enormous trees had been chopped down and the wood was in a huge pile. We have a fire pit at home, and we were almost out of wood. So we asked our bishop if we could have it. He told us, “You can have all of the wood you want.”
I was so excited. We would finally have more wood! When the day arrived to get the wood, we got right to work.
After a long day, our trailers were overflowing with wood. Then our bishop came outside and told us that a less-active family in our ward heated their home with a fireplace and they were out of wood. Mom and Dad decided to give the wood to them. That made me very upset. We had worked hard without any breaks.
I wasn’t quite sure if I should complain and ask if we could keep the wood. If I help give it away, all the work we did would be for nothing. We wouldn’t have the wood, I thought. What should I do?
It took us over an hour to unload all our precious wood. When we finally finished, we went home. We were very exhausted. When we got home, I went to check how much wood we had left. Guess what I saw? No wood at all. I thought we were giving some wood away, not all of it. I started pacing back and forth, thinking about how much work we did for nothing!
Then I remembered how the family heated their home with a fireplace. We just liked to have fires. It would have been really, really nice to have a surplus of wood. But the other family absolutely needed it. We just wanted it to do things like cook hot dogs and s’mores.
Giving the wood to the other family was hard, but I knew it was the right thing to do. After all, what would the Savior do?

When I was very young, around 7 or 8, I started attending the newly established Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Bouaké, a provincial town in central Ivory Coast. I went there with my brothers, of whom I was the youngest.
It was with joy that I went on Sunday to partake of the sacrament. In Primary we played while learning gospel principles, I enjoyed the treats that were occasionally distributed to us.
One day I heard a talk from a full-time missionary. He gave such a powerful testimony. I had never heard anything like it before. He testified, “I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the one true Church on earth.” He left his mark on my mind forever.
For me, coming with my parents from an evangelical church it was a great change.
These words of the missionary sowed something ineffable in me. I am grateful to this missionary who helped me to strengthen a personal testimony in me. He gave me the strength and desire to serve a full-time mission to share what I have learned and to touch other people’s hearts.

The earliest instance of which I have recollection of spiritual feelings was when I was about five years of age, a very small boy. I was crying from the pain of an earache. There were no wonder drugs at the time. … My mother prepared a bag of table salt and put it on the stove to warm. My father softly put his hands upon my head and gave me a blessing, rebuking the pain and the illness by authority of the holy priesthood and in the name of Jesus Christ. He then took me tenderly in his arms and placed the bag of warm salt at my ear. The pain subsided and left. I fell asleep in my father’s secure embrace. As I was falling asleep, the words of his administration floated through my mind. That is the earliest remembrance I have of the exercise of the authority of the priesthood in the name of the Lord. …

Talking about interesting cross-cultural experiences and how we can learn from them, one time I found myself in a Mayan village in the jungles of Central America. I was one of several faculty members supervising a group of Ricks College students there. That morning, a Mayan villager, an old man of about eighty years, took some of the students on an iguana hunt and a terrible cultural event happened; they didn't catch an iguana. Upon their return, the old man sat down on a log, humiliated, with his head in his hands. I figured out that in this man's culture, a "real man" gets his iguana. Therefore, I determined to accompany the afternoon iguana hunt and do all I could to restore this old gentleman's dignity. I, and several young ladies in the group, decided to go. As the time approached, the Spirit kind of told me not to go, and I should have listened to it, but I guess the Lord fortunately decided to protect me anyway from the dangers that awaited as we walked into that dense jungle.

We finally arrived at this small opening between the trees and this eighty-year old man began to quickly scale a huge tree as if it were nothing at all. He soon disappeared amongst the thick foliage. All of a sudden, I heard him shout, "Iguana! Iguana!" and we all heard the cracking of tree branches that seemed to be getting closer and closer. We were all looking at each other with eyes as big as golf balls when, all of a sudden, an iguana, several feet long, barely missed hitting me on the head as he fell from the top of the tall tree and ended up on the ground at my feet. At this moment, all the girls screamed and disappeared into the jungle. But I, being the Indiana Jones sort of guy I am, did not flee the scene, I stood my ground, paralyzed with fear. The man was shouting in Spanish from the top of the tree saying "Grap it! Grap it!" The creature and I both looked at each other for a few seconds. He had a mouth on him that I was sure could easily dispatch with one of my fingers. He also had these things that looked like spikes coming out of his back. And I decided at that moment that I was perfectly comfortable with being a wimp in that culture. Not being a real man and being a real wimp was fine with me. In fact, I decided that I was going to do the Christian thing and allow the old man the honor of catching it. After a few seconds of the iguana and I staring at each other, he gave me the look of a mother cat trying to get some sleep as she stares at her kittens playing with her tail, and slowly strolled toward a creek and jumped in.

Although his present-day performance is peppered with good humor, Brigham has moments of solemness. He tells the audience of the time he was stumping for Joseph Smith’s candidacy as president of the United States in 1844 and learned of the martyrdom in Illinois. He was in New York when he received notice of the assassination. “My first thought was whether Joseph had taken the keys to the kingdom with him. Then bringing my hand down on my knee I told them, ‘No, the keys of the kingdom are right here in the Church.’”
He then recounts that he and others of the Twelve who were then back east returned promptly to Nauvoo where they halted Sidney Rigdon’s effort to wrest control of the Church and proclaim himself guardian of the Saints and spokesman for Joseph.

There is a story about a young builder who had just gone into business for himself. A wealthy friend of his father came to him and said: “To get you started right, I am going to have you build a ranch house for me. Here are the plans. Don’t skimp on anything. I want the very finest materials used, and I want flawless workmanship. Forget the cost. Just send me the bills.”
The young builder became obsessed with the desire to enrich himself through this generous and unrestricted offer. Instead of employing top-grade labor and buying the finest materials, he shortchanged his benefactor in every way possible. Finally, the last secondhand nail was driven into the last flimsy wall, and the builder handed over the keys and bills, totaling over a hundred thousand dollars, to his father’s old friend. That gentleman wrote a check in full for the structure and then handed the keys back to the builder. “The home you have just built, my boy,” he said with a pleasant smile, “is my present to you. May you live in it in great happiness!”

A young friend of mine, whom I will call Alan, recently ran his first marathon—a distance of 26.2 miles. He had set his goal several months in advance, learned what preparation was required, and disciplined himself to follow a rigorous training schedule. He sought the advice of experienced runners and read articles on running a marathon. He practiced running the marathon route and planned a strategy for traversing the hilly course.
Finally, the day of the marathon arrived; it would be the culmination of months of training, discipline, and sacrifice. He got off to a good start in a large crowd of runners. He felt strong and confident, following his predetermined strategy. About eight miles into the race, on a downhill part of the course, he caught up with an experienced runner, Brent by name, who had given him sound advice during his training. Alan decided to match his stride to Brent’s disciplined and experienced pace.
As they passed the eighteen-mile mark, Alan struggled to stay with Brent so someone he knew would be by his side if he began “hitting the wall.” Hitting the wall means feeling a sudden urge to quit, encountering an almost tangible barrier that requires a tremendous effort to overcome. It often comes at about the twenty-mile mark.
For the next two miles, Alan kept pace with Brent. Then it hit him. He felt a sudden loss of energy, an almost overwhelming desire to stop or walk. “Stay with me,” Brent said. “We all feel it at some point. You can get through it. I’ll help pull you through.”
Somehow, Alan continued. He and Brent began to pass spectators. He knew his wife, children, and other family members would be watching about one mile ahead. Drawing on the strength provided by thoughts of his family, he was able to hang on until the desire to quit left him.
As they finally neared the finish, Alan found the last mile to be the hardest of all. Alan and Brent crossed the finish line just five seconds apart. Alan was more exhausted than he ever had been but was elated because he had beaten his goal by more than fifteen minutes and had finished among the top twenty-five runners.