Gospel Story Finder

After two students were killed and 22 others wounded in a tragic school shooting in Springfield, Oregon, last May, LDS teens in the area wanted to do something to help their community heal. A tri-stake youth conference was quickly rearranged to include a service project at the high school where the tragedy occurred.
Three bus loads of LDS youth from the Eugene, Eugene West, and Santa Clara Stakes cleaned and beautified the school grounds. Many of the teens who worked on the project had been at the school when the shooting took place and had friends who were wounded. For these students, the service project was as healing for themselves as it was for the community.
“It was such a good feeling to put things back together for our school and community and ourselves,” said Kawika Lawther. “Having the gospel in our lives also helped us get over our feelings so much faster,” added Corwin Lewis, student-body vice president of the school.

Through this family we heard of a young couple who had become curious about the Church. They were teaching a Sunday School class in another church and had heard so much negative commentary about the Mormons that they were curious. We drove the young elders to their home to give them the missionary lessons while we worked with another family. Both families became active members of the branch, giving us a Sunday School teacher, a branch clerk, a teacher for the Relief Society, and another child for Primary.

During the somber days of World War II, my father was taken prisoner by German troops. He was part of a group of French prisoners from Alsace (which had once been part of Germany) who lacked everything, even the most essential items. Many of the prisoners, especially those who were ill, died of hunger and exposure to the elements or simply of exhaustion during their long marches from one camp to another.
During one of these long and difficult marches into Germany, a sudden explosion detonated in a house not far from this sad string of prisoners. They could hear cries of panic coming from those caught inside the house. The guards quickly tightened the ranks to better guard the prisoners and prevent their escape. However, my father, listening only to his conscience, bolted from the ranks and ran as fast as his weak legs would permit. Without worrying about his own safety, he outran the guards who were pursuing him and shooting in his direction.
Miraculously, he wasn’t hit, and the guards stopped in surprise when they realized he was running into the flame-engulfed house. He soon emerged, carrying a child about eight years old. He had heard the child screaming for help, had rescued him, and now turned him over to the astonished German soldiers. Almost immediately, an officer addressed him in a severe tone: “Do you know what you did? You just saved a future enemy.”
My father, exhausted and drained of all strength from his heroic gesture and from the many hardships of the preceding months, answered with surprising assurance: “I didn’t see an enemy. I saw a human being, a child who needed my help. I did what had to be done—and if it had to be done over, I would do it again without hesitation.”
He was led back to the prisoners—but with a little more respect. And after this act of heroism, all of the prisoners were treated better than they had been before. The most astonishing part of all was that after this group arrived in the camp, my father, in his French uniform, received a German award of distinction.

On 28 October 1985 Elder Thomas S. Monson of the Quorum of the Twelve held a conference for the Saints in the Snederflers’ apartment in Prague, attended by 56 people. “I thought the floor of our apartment was not going to be able to hold us all!” laughs Sister Snederfler. “But it was a wonderful meeting.”

“Elder Monson dedicated our apartment and the entire building for the gathering of the Saints in Prague and Czechoslovakia,” says Brother Snederfler. “It was a marvelous spiritual experience from which all present received new strength and dedication to build up and expand the kingdom of God.” At that time, Elder Monson also ordained Jirí a high priest. “I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit and another command from God to serve better and with gladness in my heart.”

An appropriate tribute of gratitude was made by a young Latter-day Saint girl attending a Denver, Colorado, high school. The students in her class had been asked to prepare a letter to be written to a great man of their choice. Many addressed their letters to sports heroes, some to the leaders of their nation, while others addressed their letters to persons of reknown. This young lady, however, addressed her letter to her father, and in the letter she stated: “I have decided to write this letter to you, Dad, because you are the greatest man that I have ever known. The overwhelming desire of my heart is that I will so live that I might have the privilege of being beside you and Mother and other members of the family in the celestial kingdom.” That father has never received a more cherished letter.

It has been a most important influence also in missionary work. For example: When I was a young missionary, I had as a companion a wonderful man from Rupert, Idaho. His name was Elder Henry L. Baker. We tracted together in a city in eastern Canada.
As we came to one door, a woman responded to our knock and immediately invited us in—before we had a chance to give the usual door approach! Hardly had we entered the house when she said, “Where is the book you were to bring me?”
Naturally we were astonished. But she quickly explained. She said that during the previous night she had had a dream in which she saw us come to her home. It was so vivid, she said, that when she saw us approaching her door, she recognized us instantly. She was told in the dream that we had a book that would lead her entire family to salvation.
Immediately we gave her the Book of Mormon and discussed it at some length with her. She invited us to return that same evening to meet her family, which we did. After an appropriate period of study, the family joined the Church and all are still faithful and true.

This would be a fine place to end Kim and Neil’s story, but there’s more. The Kereszti’s son, Zsolt, was the only LDS single adult in Hungary, so Dr. Davis invited him to come to Salt Lake City and live with his family for a while. Since Zsolt had medical training, he could help Dr. Davis with his laser research.
So now the Davis’s missionary efforts resulted in a new big brother for the family. What’s it like to suddenly have a friend from Hungary move in?
“I remember the first day he came,” says Kim. “We couldn’t even pronounce his name. But since then, we’ve become really close. I go to early-morning seminary, and he takes me. He’s come to our school and spoken, he’s cooked us Hungarian dinners, he’s taught us a little of the Hungarian language, and we’ve done a lot of other special things together.”
“I was kind of shy at first,” says Neil, who was the oldest son in the house when Zsolt arrived. “We’d go out and play racquetball and Ping-Pong, and we all got used to each other. For coming from a family where he was the only child, he’s very patient with us.”
As for Zsolt, he was delighted to be accepted straight into the heart of a strong LDS family. He’s fascinated by their unity, by family prayer, scripture study, and home evening, and he’s amazed at their support of each other. The Davises are a musical family and play their various instruments together often. They’re also an athletic family and always attend each other’s games and meets.
“I’ve learned that I tremendously enjoy a big family,” Zsolt says. “It’s very educational for me to watch and learn how they handle everything. They set goals and motivate each other. I would like to have a family like this someday.”

President Gordon B. Hinckley started off his 96th birthday celebration with a shovel and some dirt.
Hundreds of Brigham Young University alumni, faculty, and students, plus family members and friends looked on as President Hinckley took his shovel in hand and scooped dirt to kick off the construction of an 80,000-square-foot (7.432-square-meter) building that will bear his name at the school in Provo.
“You do me a great honor and a great kindness in what you do today,” President Hinckley told guests at the groundbreaking celebration for the new Gordon B. Hinckley Alumni and Visitors’ Center on June 23, 2006.
President Hinckley thanked guests and commented about how his wife, Marjorie Pay Hinckley, who died in 2004, had also been honored at BYU when a social work and social sciences chair was named in her honor in 2003.
“Maybe we could move her chair into my building, and we’d be together again,” he said.
President Thomas S. Monson, First Counselor in the First Presidency, President James E. Faust, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, and President Hinckley’s son Clark also spoke at the groundbreaking. Family members, President Hinckley’s counselors in the First Presidency, members of the BYU Board of Trustees, friends of the university, and donors joined President Hinckley in ceremoniously turning the first dirt for the building.
After the ceremony, President Hinckley donated the shovel he used, which came from his own tool collection. Construction commenced immediately after the ceremony.
After the groundbreaking, family, invited guests, and university leaders hosted President Hinckley at a private luncheon. President Hinckley’s children paid tribute to their father, and President Samuelson presented him with a brick with his name on it to represent the new center that bears his name.

My wife and I were having a serious discussion recently in which we were counting our many blessings. We named a host of things that have come to us, because of the Church, because of our family, because of the glorious restoration of eternal truth that has taken place in this day; and then she climaxed the discussion by asking this question: “What’s the greatest blessing that has ever come into your life?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “The greatest blessing that has ever come to me was on the thirteenth day of October in 1937 at 11:20 A.M. when I was privileged to kneel in the Salt Lake Temple at the Lord’s altar and receive you as an eternal companion.”
She said, “Well, you passed that test.” I believe that the most important single thing that any Latter-day Saint ever does in this world is to marry the right person, in the right place, by the right authority: and that then—when they have been so sealed by the power and authority that Elijah the prophet restored—the most important remaining thing that any Latter-day Saint can ever do is so to live that the terms and conditions of the covenant thus made will be binding and efficacious now and forever. And so I’d like, if properly guided, to make some suggestions that apply in all fields of choice—in all fields, at least all major fields, of activity—but that apply particularly to the matter of eternal marriage, singling that out as the one thing paramount above all others.
How do you choose a wife? I’ve heard a lot of young people from Brigham Young University and elsewhere say, “I’ve got to get a feeling of inspiration. I’ve got to get some revelation. I’ve got to fast and pray and get the Lord to manifest to me whom I should marry.” Well, maybe it will be a little shock to you, but never in my life did I ever ask the Lord whom I ought to marry. It never occurred to me to ask him. I went out and found the girl I wanted; she suited me; I evaluated and weighed the proposition, and it just seemed a hundred percent to me as though this ought to be. Now, if I’d done things perfectly, I’d have done some counseling with the Lord, which I didn’t do; but all I did was pray to the Lord and ask for some guidance and direction in connection with the decision that I’d reached. A more perfect thing to have done would have been to counsel with him relative to the decision and get a spiritual confirmation that the conclusion, which I by my agency and faculties had arrived at, was the right one.

Alejandro Flores, 13, discovered the importance of doing as well as knowing. “Last Sunday,” he says, “my grandmother asked me to teach a family home evening lesson about dress standards, using For the Strength of Youth. Some of my cousins and I had the habit of following worldly styles, and I felt uncomfortable giving the lesson. But now my cousins and I are doing better in the way we dress.” His lesson and example helped prepare his cousins for an important event. “They’re getting baptized next week!” he says.

Sometimes Janick’s enthusiasm for life carries him away. One day his mother, Esther, called his father at his office, which is near their home. She was having a hard time getting Janick to settle down; she asked her husband to come home and talk to him. His father came home. He told Janick that he needed to learn to help his mother in preparation for the day when he would hold the priesthood. “He really listened seriously to me,” his father said. “He behaved much better. He knew that we expected something of him.”

Just a few months ago, I graduated from college. The day I put on the cap and gown, I felt excited, happy, grateful, and so incredibly nervous. I remember feeling confused and fearful of what lay ahead in my future. It wasn’t until a few weeks later when I was listening to a conference talk and thinking about what the speaker was saying that I felt the power of the Spirit. It was an overwhelming feeling of comfort and direction. I immediately wrote down in my journal the thoughts that were coming to me, and now I look to those words whenever I feel doubt. That journal entry has become a source of comfort for me because it feels as if it came straight from God.

I have a very strong testimony of example. The article “In Football or in Life” (November) touched me deeply because of an experience we had a short time ago with a very special father and his sons whom we were teaching. The father said they had been jealous of their neighbors because of the happiness these neighbors had in their home. He concluded that it had to be a result of their religion because they truly live it. He wanted some of that true joy for his own family. I also think of my parents, who are the greatest examples to me. They always taught me true principles and raised me in the way that would please the Lord. They truly show charity (the pure love of Christ) in their everyday lives. My heart is full of love for my Father and mother in heaven, and my eldest brother Jesus Christ, and with gratitude for the love they have given the world. Our brothers and sisters all around the world need the gospel so much, and I’m thankful for the Church leaders who place their time and lives on the altar so that the world may receive the word of our Lord. I love all God’s children and am so thankful for the opportunity to grow by serving them.
Elder John Kevin YoungCalifornia Ventura Mission

Family is important to eight-year-old Shonesty Johnson. When she turned eight, her father, Alexander, was out of town, working in the oil fields. She postponed her baptism a month and a half so that he could perform the ordinance. Her fifteen-year-old brother, Alexander, Jr., (Zack), sang “When I Am Baptized” as part of the service. Shonesty says, “I liked being baptized. It made me feel good—especially because Dad baptized me and my brother sang to me.”

“I can go all by myself, Mom. I’m four years old now!” Andy exclaimed, his freckled face all lit up with pride.
“Don’t you want me to come with you?”
“No. I know the way. I go down the road, around the turn, past the barn, by the chicken coop, and through the garden. That’s how.” He grinned. “Can I go by myself?”
“All right,” said Mother. “But be careful.”
Andy walked down the road. He stopped to watch a duck with five babies waddle across it. He liked the way the babies followed their mother one by one.
He walked around the turn. He saw a squirrel run up a tree and scamper into the old granary. The squirrel had a long bushy tail of pretty brown colors.
Then he walked past the barn. The lambs who didn’t have mothers bleated to him. They think I have some milk for them, he thought. He patted their heads and said, “You’ll get fed again at suppertime.”
Andy walked by the chicken coop. The chickens were busy clucking to each other. I wonder what they’re saying, he thought.
When he walked down the path through the garden, he picked a piece of rhubarb and bit into it. “Oooh!” He pulled a funny face. “This is too sour.”
He walked up the steps of the house beyond the garden and knocked on the door.
“Well, look who’s here!”
“Hi Grandma Great!” Andy opened the door and gave her a big hug.
“Didn’t your mother come with you?”
“No. I’m four years old now, and I walked here all by myself.”
“You did? You’re such a big boy! I’m very proud of you. Are you ready to spend the day with me making cookies and breadsticks?”
“Yes! Can I wear an apron too?”
“You sure can!” Grandma Great helped him put on an apron. It was blue with red and white polka dots.
“Grandma Great?”
“What is it, honey?” Grandma asked, putting her arm around Andy.
“Will you be my grandma forever?”
“Well, Andy,” Grandma Great answered as she lifted him onto her lap, “do you see that picture of the St. George Temple on the wall?”
Andy nodded.
“Grandpa Great and I were married there for time and all eternity. Your mom and dad were married there too. That means that we will all be together forever if we try everyday to be good people and keep Heavenly Father’s commandments.”
“I’ll try real hard, Grandma, because I love you and want you to always be my grandma.”
“And I’ll try hard, too, because I love you, Andy.”

I am grateful to President Grant and other prophets for teaching the principle of tithing to my parents and to them for teaching it to me. My attitude toward the law of tithing was set in place by the example and words of my mother, illustrated in a conversation I remember from my youth.

During World War II, my widowed mother supported her three young children on a schoolteacher’s salary that was meager. When I became conscious that we went without some desirable things because we didn’t have enough money, I asked my mother why she paid so much of her salary as tithing. I have never forgotten her explanation: “Dallin, there might be some people who can get along without paying tithing, but we can’t. The Lord has chosen to take your father and leave me to raise you children. I cannot do that without the blessings of the Lord, and I obtain those blessings by paying an honest tithing. When I pay my tithing, I have the Lord’s promise that he will bless us, and we must have those blessings if we are to get along.”

A few weeks after my 18th birthday, my parents called my sister and me downstairs to talk. They told us that my dad’s sister, Charlotte, was in the hospital and was probably going to pass away.
Unfortunately, being in the hospital was a fairly common occurrence for her, but we could all feel this really was the last time. She was on life support after an accident. A few days later, my dad was on a plane from Georgia, USA, to California to say goodbye to her. And just days after that, my mom, my sister, and I were flying to California for her funeral. She was only 38.
Despite this major tragedy in my life, I was uncomfortably emotionless at the news of her death. I had hardly known my Aunt Charlotte—I had met her only once in person, so we had simply been social media friends. She had struggled with anorexia and other mental health issues throughout her life that had caused her to feel she needed to distance herself from our family. I didn’t have any contact with her until I was about 16, and when she did come into my life, it was awkward for me as a teenager.
What I did know about my aunt was that she loved yoga and wanted to become a yoga teacher. I knew that she wanted nothing more than to be a mom. And I had always heard about how she had a personality so big that it couldn’t be contained.
I couldn’t help but feel that the whole situation seemed so unfair. She was finally managing the chronic pain she had developed during her struggles with anorexia. She had moved to California and become a yoga teacher. It seemed like just when Charlotte was finally getting her life back on track and I finally had the opportunity to get to know her, she died.
It didn’t make any sense to me.
In the April 2021 general conference, Elder Dale G. Renlund of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles spoke about this infuriating unfairness. He said: “Some unfairness cannot be explained; inexplicable unfairness is infuriating. Unfairness comes from living with bodies that are imperfect, injured, or diseased. Mortal life is inherently unfair.” 1
I felt this very deeply with Charlotte. She had spent most of her life at war with her brain and her body and it had nearly taken her several times, but she was finally starting to get better. All I could think was, “How could God take her back when she seemed to be getting out of the woods? Why, after surviving all her near-death experiences, was it a freak accident that took her life?”
Elder Renlund’s later words struck a deeper chord with me. He said: “Do not let unfairness harden you or corrode your faith in God. Instead, ask God for help. Increase your appreciation for and reliance on the Savior.” 2
My faith had been tested only a few times up until this point in my life, but I struggled with being able to understand this unfairness for years—from when Charlotte died in 2018 until the April 2021 general conference. Although I had always believed in Heavenly Father’s plan for us, this experience had shaken me.
But thanks to that general conference message—given on Easter weekend, appropriately—now I know, like Elder Renlund, that “all that is unfair about life can be made right through the Atonement of Jesus Christ and that by His authority families can be joined together forever.” 3
During this Easter season, the fifth since Charlotte died, I’m grateful for the knowledge that her death isn’t the end. Because of the events of Easter weekend, because of the Resurrection, hope is not lost. I feel confident Charlotte is continuing on the path she started just before her earthly life ended. I know that when other members of my family join her one day, she will be waiting there to welcome them home.
For me, Charlotte is a tangible reminder of the Atonement and Resurrection of our Savior, Jesus Christ. I may never know why she was taken from this earth so young. But what I do know is that because He lives, one day she will too. When that day comes, I will finally get to build a relationship with the person she was becoming before her death.

A number of years later, the eternal importance of having—and bringing—our family together became clear to me after I accepted the teachings of two young men who knocked on the door of my husband’s chocolate factory. They introduced themselves as missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
My husband, Gerard, had arranged to meet them at home after work, but he forgot to tell me. When I saw these two young people arrive, I had them sit in the living room and wait for Gerard. I wasn’t very nice to them.
I was religious, but my faith didn’t require much of me. I had been living blissfully with no need to study or ask questions. The thought of questioning my faith troubled me, and I didn’t feel brave enough to change my religion.
For a long time, Gerard went to church without me. The small branch he attended held meetings in a trailer while the Church’s first meetinghouse in France was being built. Gerard even helped dig the foundation.
He would come home happy and try to share his impressions with me. Finally, I took the missionary discussions, asking questions mostly intended to embarrass those two poor missionaries. With great patience and total honesty, they admitted their ignorance on certain doctrinal points, offered to research my questions, and returned the following week with unassailable answers.
When a visiting parish priest found out we were receiving the missionaries, he tried to expose Church teachings as false. His efforts, however, had the opposite effect. Even as he tried to paint Church members in the worst possible light, I decided to accept the principles taught by the missionaries and be baptized.
Gerard had been ready for baptism for a long time but did not want to be baptized without me. In May 1964, the missionaries set up a portable canvas pool in the middle of their apartment’s living room and filled it with water from a pipe running from a sink. All our Church friends were there. I was so emotional that I was afraid my tears would make the pool spill over!
One year later in the Bern Switzerland Temple, my husband and I were sealed to each other and then our two daughters were sealed to us. While we were there, we did temple work for our ancestors. I love what the Church teaches about family history and sealings and the gathering of Israel. I love the focus on bringing families together.
It wasn’t easy to do family history in France at that time, but I felt inspired to do it. No digitized records existed, so I often traveled to the hometown of an ancestor to request physical records. I felt such a special feeling when I held documents written by humble people who had been present at the birth, marriage, or death of one of my ancestors.
“I love what the Church teaches about family history and sealings and the gathering of Israel.”
I am somewhat limited now by age, but I’m so grateful I can continue to do work for my ancestors through FamilySearch, both by indexing and finding new names. With the tools available to us, I have indexed more than 35,000 names and found more than 5,000 names to take to the temple.
The happiness we find in the gospel is complete when we can enjoy it with our families. I’m grateful for the chance to bring them together—to bring them home forever.

The Primary of the Prospect Ward, Adelaide Australia Firle Stake wanted to work on bringing their scriptures to church. They decided to put a “fuzzy” in a jar every time they did, because the scriptures give us a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. At the end of the year, they joined the fuzzies together. Their fuzzy “snake” was 6½ meters (21 feet) long! All the children enjoyed this activity, and some days every one of them had their scriptures with them at Primary.

I grew up in Monterrey, Mexico, in the state of Nuevo León. My parents were faithful Latter-day Saints, and I can’t remember a single time when we failed to attend church. When I was five or six years old, my father owned an old dump truck that he used to haul construction materials and garden soil. Each Sunday my sisters and I climbed up into the bed of that truck while my father and mother climbed into the cab. Then we drove to the home of my cousins, where their family climbed up to join us. Next we picked up the Gonzales family, then the Solanos family, and so on. By the time we arrived at the chapel, the dump truck was filled not with soil but with Saints.
Some people who lived nearby thought it was most entertaining to watch more than 20 men, women, and children in white shirts and ties or Sunday dresses come pouring out of a dusty dump truck. Neighbors came outside each Sunday just to enjoy the spectacle. They laughed at us, but we weren’t a bit embarrassed. We were happy to be going to church. We repeated that performance twice each Sunday all through the 1960s.
When the truck wasn’t available, my family walked. Even if it was raining or cold or sizzling hot, we walked just the same, though it took at least an hour going and an hour coming back. And in those days there were Church services in the morning and the afternoon. We always attended both.
When I returned to Monterrey after many years, every one of my fellow dump truck passengers was still active in the Church. That experience united us and made us strong. I still attend all my meetings. How can I do less now than I did then?
Children, go to your meetings. Go on foot. Go by car. Go in a dump truck. But go.