Gospel Story Finder

It smacks of cloak and dagger, but original inventions must be guarded. Her solar tracker, “The Searcher,” which won first place honors in state as well as international competition, has been the subject of much scrutiny each place it has been displayed.
“I watched people copy down every word I’d written on my display,” says Syndi in amazement. “In Montreal, representatives from some companies came to see it. I should have had it patented, but it costs too much money.”

Each night before my prayers are said
My dad will sit upon my bed
And as we talk about the day
My hurts and fears just slip away
Because my dad is here with me.
My heart feels then that all is well,
and so I kneel and softly tell
Another Father of my day
And thank Him for His loving way
Of always being near to me.

These Young Women in the Hunter (Utah) 27th Ward found a great way to start their mornings during summer vacation. For 53 days they met together to read the Book of Mormon aloud. By reading ten pages each day, they finished reading the Book of Mormon by the time school started again.

(See John 14:26.)
Example: While talking with a friend, you might remember something you haven’t thought of in a long time. That thought could be the answer to their question or may provide them comfort.

We returned only a few days ago from Manila in the Philippines. There on an eminence where the ground falls away to the rear, affording a view of an entire valley, stands a beautiful and sacred temple. Here, as elsewhere, there is incised in the stone of one of the towers the words “Holiness to the Lord. The House of the Lord.” By the thousands they came, the wonderful, faithful members of the Church in the Republic of the Philippines. With songs of thanksgiving, with words of counsel and testimony, with a prayer of dedication, they all joined in presenting to the Lord, as the gift of a thankful people, this beautiful house as his abode.

“Because a temple is sacred, the Lord asks that it be protected from desecration. Anyone may enter who is willing to prepare well for that privilege. The concept of preparation prevails in other fields of endeavor. I remember when I was but a young boy, I told my parents I wanted to attend the university. They said I could, but only if I worked hard in preliminary schooling and met all the requirements for admission to the university. Similarly, we must qualify for admission to the temple. We prepare physically, intellectually, and spiritually.”—Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “Prepare for Blessings of the Temple,” Ensign, Mar. 2002, 18–19.

It was Helamán’s first day of school. He wore his favorite shirt, and he had a new pencil. His new teacher let him sit at a table with his friends Sylvester, Jorge, and Miguel. It was a good day.
“Put away your things,” said Señora Martínez. “It’s time to eat lunch.”
Helamán’s family always prayed together before meals. He raised his hand. “Señora Martínez, are we going to pray before we eat?”
Señora Martínez smiled at Helamán. “You may say a prayer for your food if you would like.”
Helamán and his friends opened their lunches.
“What is a prayer?” asked Sylvester.
“It’s talking to Heavenly Father,” said Helamán. “It’s the way we thank Him for our food.”
“Can you say a prayer for all of us?” asked Miguel.
Helamán folded his arms. His three friends folded their arms too. Helamán closed his eyes and bowed his head. His friends did the same.
Then Helamán said a prayer, just like his family did. He thanked Heavenly Father for the good day they were having and for their lunches. He asked for a blessing on their food. He ended in the name of Jesus Christ and said, “Amen.”
Sylvester, Jorge, and Miguel looked up.
“You can say amen too,” said Helamán.
His friends grinned and said, “Amen.”
The next day at lunchtime, Sylvester said, “Say a prayer, Helamán.”
“Yes, say a prayer, Helamán,” said Miguel. Jorge nodded.
So Helamán prayed again. This time he said he was extra thankful that his mom had made him a ham and cheese sandwich, his favorite. He asked Heavenly Father to help them learn in class that day.
Each day at lunch, Helamán’s friends said, “Say a prayer, Helamán.” And each day, Helamán said a prayer. He prayed with his friends each day for a week.
The next Monday at lunchtime, Miguel said, “Today I will pray.”
Helamán was surprised. He folded his arms, closed his eyes, bowed his head, and listened while Miguel prayed.
Miguel began by saying, “Dear Heavenly Father.” He thanked Him for their food and asked Him to bless it. He ended in the name of Jesus Christ and said, “Amen.”
“Amen!” said Helamán and Jorge.
“Amen,” said Sylvester. “I didn’t know you could pray.”
“I learned by listening to Helamán,” said Miguel. “I asked my parents if I could say a prayer on our meals at home. They said yes, so I pray just like Helamán does.”
“Wow,” said Sylvester. “I think I’ll ask my parents if I can say a prayer at our meals too.”
“Me too!” said Jorge.
Helamán smiled. He was glad he had been able to help his friends learn to speak with Heavenly Father. He knew Heavenly Father loved him, and Heavenly Father loved his friends too.
This story took place in Mexico.

The twenty-five children who are learning to read and write on Lubian Sequi’s patio are poor—too poor to afford shoes or uniforms or supplies for public school. Some have no beds at home, but sleep in cardboard boxes on the ground.
Sister Sequi is a small, lovely woman with a smile that warms and comforts. On the chalkboard she has written the words Dios Me Ama (“God Loves Me”). Besides teaching her students reading, writing, mathematics, social studies, science, and etiquette, Sister Sequi begins each day’s classes with a prayer and a lesson from the Bible. She also encourages the children to pray with their families. Sister Sequi provides pencils, notebooks, and chalk for the children who cannot afford them. She uses a lot of visual aids to help the children learn.
Sister Sequi has found most of her students on the streets of Santo Domingo. “Whenever I see a dirty, barefoot, or neglected child, I say to him, ‘Come here. Don’t be afraid. Where do you live?’” Then she goes home with the child to ask permission for the child to attend school in her home.
Once a month, she invites the parents to an evening meeting where they can see how their children are progressing. She also gives a talk to help the parents spiritually and morally. “Our intention is to teach the parents so that they can teach their children better,” she says. Although it is not Sister Sequi’s primary goal to convert, at least one student’s family has been baptized since coming to her school.

Brooke Brown, 12, Crescent 18th Ward, Sandy Utah Crescent Stake. Brooke has come up with an inventive way to earn money. With their mother’s help, Brooke and her younger sister, Kristin, have a balloon business. They rent a helium tank and offer balloon bouquets for sale for birthdays or special occasions. They make flyers advertising their balloons, and Brooke and Kristin deliver the flyers door-to-door throughout the surrounding neighborhoods. Then when they get an order, the girls try to walk to deliver it if the weather permits. Just walking down the street with a dozen helium balloons attracts lots of attention and helps them get more business. The proceeds from the balloon business is split three ways—Brooke, Kristin, and their mom. Mom pays to refill the helium tank out of her share. Brooke also earns money baby-tending and doing extra jobs in addition to her chores around the house. Since she couldn’t anticipate her income, she just kept a record of her income and spending.

Actual
Income
balloons
$27.86
baby-tending
42.00
jobs at home
8.50
total
$78.36
Expenses
tithing
7.84
birthday gifts
14.75
food
1.00
movie
2.75
hammock
6.00
total
$32.34

Brooke had $46.02 left over. She is saving money for school clothes. After writing down her expenses for one month, Brooke said, “It surprised me how much money I made and how much money I spent. One of my favorite things is to buy things for other people.” Brooke has decided that she needs to open a savings account. If it is in the bank, she wouldn’t be as tempted to spend it.

Bishop Gérald Caussé, First Counselor in the Presiding Bishopric, told a story about three men in Africa who walked two weeks on muddy paths to attend a district meeting (page 98). They stayed for a week so they could take the sacrament before heading home. Then they carried boxes filled with copies of the Book of Mormon on their heads to give to people in their village.

When I first read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover, I read the promise that if I “would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if [the things I had read were] true; and if [I would] ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he [would] manifest the truth of it unto [me], by the power of the Holy Ghost” (Moro. 10:4). I tried to follow those instructions, as I understood them.
If I expected a glorious manifestation to come at once as an overpowering experience, it did not happen. Nevertheless, it felt good, and I began to believe.
The next verse has an even greater promise: “By the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things” (Moro. 10:5; emphasis added). I did not know how the Holy Ghost worked, even though the Book of Mormon explains it a number of times in a number of ways.
I studied and learned that “angels speak by the power of the Holy Ghost; wherefore, they speak the words of Christ.” It said, as well, that one is to “feast upon the words of Christ; [with the promise that] the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do” (2 Ne. 32:3).
And it says plainly that “if ye cannot understand … it will be because ye ask not, neither do ye knock” (2 Ne. 32:4).
I also read, “If ye will enter in by the way, and receive the Holy Ghost, it will show unto you all things what ye should do” (2 Ne. 32:5). I had already done that when I was confirmed a member of the Church by the “laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost” (A of F 1:4).
If I had expected in my little-boy innocence some special spiritual experience, it had not happened. Over the years as I listened to sermons and lessons and read in the Book of Mormon, I began to understand.
Nephi had been very badly treated by his brothers and reminded them that an angel had spoken unto them, “but ye were past feeling, that ye could not feel his words” (1 Ne. 17:45). When I understood that the Holy Ghost could communicate through our feelings, I understood why the words of Christ, whether from the New Testament or the Book of Mormon or the other scriptures, carried such a good feeling. In time, I found that the scriptures had answers to things I needed to know.

A doctor and his wife wanted to fight everything we taught them, but somehow they knew they couldn’t. Even though they didn’t accept the restored gospel of Jesus Christ at that time, they were happy to let their children visit the branch in Glückstadt for Sunday meetings and branch activities.

Moses Lwakihugo, from the Democratic Republic of the Congo, lost his father to war in 1997. Moses lived in refugee camps for over 10 years. Now a priesthood leader in the Swahili group in our ward, he said, “I noticed something different about the members of the Church. They actually live what they teach. In other churches I had been a part of, nobody came to visit me. In this ward, people were checking in and bringing meals when my family was sick. I have never seen a church so full of love.”

When I was almost 18, I flew to a small town called Soldotna, Alaska, to work for the summer. This was my first experience living away from home. My parents had arranged for me to work for and live with their good friends the Wrights, who owned the local grocery store. I hoped to earn enough money for college. I also hoped to return home with an answer to a question that repeatedly entered my mind: Is there really a God?
I needed to obtain an answer for myself. So I resolved to pray every night and ask God if He was real. Somehow I felt that if God existed, He would answer my prayer. If I never received an answer, then I would know He didn’t exist. Simple, I thought.
At the Wrights’ home, I shared a bedroom with their daughter Lisa. She was home from Brigham Young University for the summer and worked at the grocery store with me. I admired Lisa from the start. She was beautiful, intelligent, confident, and enthusiastic about life. That summer we spent nearly every hour of every day together.
I loved listening to Lisa tell me about college life. Her life sounded fun and very independent. Lisa had her life organized and balanced, with the right priorities firmly in place.
My admiration for Lisa grew as I observed her reading the scriptures daily and praying each morning and night. I wanted to ask Lisa how she had obtained her faith in God but felt ashamed of my lack of faith. I remember lying in bed, wondering what Lisa talked to God about in her prayers.
Every night I knelt by my bed and said a quick prayer, asking God if He was there. Yet I didn’t feel anything special or spiritual. I did not hear a voice. I felt the same after my prayers as I did before them. This nightly routine went on for two months. Discouraged, I found my doubts in God increasing.
One night, when I was feeling deeply homesick, tears welled in my eyes. I desperately wanted to be near my family, friends, and familiar surroundings. Aching to talk to someone who knew and loved me, I knelt in prayer. “God, I really need You right now,” I began. For the next several minutes, I released my true feelings to my Father in Heaven. I told Him everything. I talked with Him as though I believed He was there.
A warmth wrapped around me. I began to feel as though Heavenly Father had come down and taken me in His arms. I was no longer alone. Love and peace embraced me. I knew there was a God.
I wondered why receiving an answer to my prayer took more than two months. Jeremiah 29:13 gave me the answer: “And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.”
I finally received an answer to my prayer after I dug deep into my heart. I placed faith in God’s existence. I searched high into the heavens with my words and tears.
My life has changed because of that one night. I served a mission and married in the temple. My faith in God’s existence continues to increase.
I often think back to that summer in Alaska. Without Lisa’s example, I might not have persevered through those months of praying. I might have quit and never discovered the love of my Heavenly Father. I will forever be grateful to Lisa and her example. She helped me come to know God and feel His love for me.

• Dresden, Germany, Wednesday, June 19: En route, the choir detours to lunch at the Freiberg Germany Temple grounds. Speaking to choir members, temple president Henry Burkhardt says, “It didn’t take long for citizens of Freiberg to say ‘our temple.’ Many times we see couples—young people who are not members of the Church and who are preparing to marry or have married—who come to have their picture taken with the temple in the background. They know they can’t go inside. But they know something about its being a symbol of everlasting marriage and love. They feel the spirit of the grounds.”
Tonight’s concert is the first in what used to be known as East Germany (the German Democratic Republic) prior to the coming down of the Berlin Wall on 9 November 1989. In the Kulturpalast, the 2,400-person audience introduces a first for the tour—their clapping will not stop until the last choir member has walked offstage five or more minutes after the last encore. Audience and choir members wave good-bye to each other for the entire five minutes.

A package of sponges plopped onto the floor as Janis dug deeper into the closet. Then an old boot tumbled out. “Aha!” she said, grabbing at something, “here’s the broom!” But when she brought it out into the light, Janis saw that it was only half a broom. The straw part was missing. “Mom! Where’s the rest of the broom? I can’t be a witch without a broom!”
“You mean that old broom? I let your brother have it.”
Janis frowned. Why does he want it? she wondered.
“What am I going to do?” she moaned, walking into the kitchen. She sank into a chair and cupped her chin in her hands.
“Mom!” came a shout. “Where’s the black crepe pap—”
Janis whirled as her twin brother skidded to a stop in mid-sentence.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were here,” he said.
“But I know that you need black crepe paper,” she declared smugly. She’d used most of the black paper for her cape and hat. The remaining pieces were tucked under her bed.
“I don’t need it. Forget it!” Jack said irritably, and he turned and left the room.
“All this secrecy!” Mom said as she rinsed some dishes.
“There’s a prize for the best costume,” Janis explained. “And I don’t want anyone to know what I’m doing. But I still need a whole broom. Don’t we have another one?”
“That is the other one. I can’t let you take the good one, Janis, because I need it when I clean. How about a mop?”
“Mom! Witches never ride mops!”
“It was just a suggestion,” Mom said.
Janis went back to the closet and took the sorrowful-looking broom into her room. She was placing it in the corner when she heard footsteps. “Jack! No fair sneaking around.”
“I’m looking for something, not sneaking.”
“For black crepe paper?” she teased.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
It was true, she would like to know. But if she found out about Jack’s costume, it would only be fair that he knew about hers. And he won’t, she decided, not until Halloween.
During the next few days Janis worked on her costume. She made long string hair by gluing strands of Mom’s knitting yarn onto her witch’s hat. And she painted pieces of cutout cardboard silver and used them as buckles for her black shoes.
Trying on her costume, she thought, I look just like a witch—except for the broomstick! She glanced sadly at her strawless broom.
“I wish I could think of something to use for a broom,” she said, showing her costume to her mother.
“I like your costume, dear,” Mom said. “You managed all the other parts of the outfit. Maybe you can still figure out a way to get a proper broom.”
Janis’s dark eyes stared at the artificial flower centerpiece her mother was arranging. It looks real if I don’t look very close. It even has fake weeds that remind me of—“Mom! That’s it. Your flowers!” she shouted.
“Flowers?” Mom asked. “A bouquet for a witch?”
“No, for my broomstick.”
With Mom’s help Janis tied some skinny yellow weeds onto the bottom of the broom handle with a piece of twine. Not bad, she thought when they were through, but I still wonder what Jack used the straw from the broom for.
The night of the Halloween party she found out. She was dressed and waiting for Jack to come out of his room when he walked down the hallway. He had on patched overalls and Mom’s funny fishing cap. A bird was perched on his scarecrow shoulder.
“A navy blue crow?” Janis asked, pointing to the strange-looking bird.
“You used all the black crepe paper, Witch Janis,” Jack said, tapping Janis’s tall hat.
Her gaze fell to the cuffs of his flannel shirt. Bits of yellow straw! “So that’s what happened to the broom!” she declared.
“What’s that stuff on the bottom of your broom?” he asked.
Janis told him about the dried flowers.
“I could’ve used them,” Jack said. “Then you would’ve had a regular broom.”
“And I hid the leftover crepe paper under my bed. There was enough to make a black crow,” Janis admitted.
“But you wanted your costumes to be big secrets,” Mom reminded them.
“Next year let’s tell each other about our costumes. Then we can help each other,” suggested Jack.
Janis looked at her brother and smiled. Even though the Halloween secrets had been fun, she was sure it would be more fun to plan their costumes together. “I think that’s a great idea,” she agreed.

Sergio was a young man who wanted to go on a mission. He was studying at a university 300 kilometers from home. He would come home regularly and talk with his bishop and stake president. He did not feel worthy to go on a mission. He said his mind was not clean: he saw and heard too many things at the university that made him think of evil. He was challenged to read the Book of Mormon every morning before going to school. He did this, and in a few months he was able to control his thoughts and he and his leaders felt good about his going on a mission. He went and served very well.

Oliver Cowdery, like the other two Witnesses, was excommunicated from the Church in the late 1830s after becoming estranged from the Prophet Joseph Smith. He spent 10 years out of the Church before humbling himself, admitting his errors, and asking to be rebaptized in 1848—just 16 months before his death on March 3, 1850.
As Oliver sought rebaptism, “he bore testimony, in the most positive terms, to the truth of the Book of Mormon, the restoration of the priesthood to the earth, and mission of Joseph Smith as the prophet of the last days.”4
A few months before his death in Richmond, Missouri, Oliver told his old friend Jacob Gates: “I want you to remember what I say to you, I am a dying man, and what would it profit one to tell you a lie? I know … that this Book of Mormon was translated by the gift and power of God. My eyes saw, my ears heard, and my understanding was touched, and I know that whereof I testified is true. It was no dream, no vain imagination of the mind—it was real.”5
Years after Oliver’s death, his wife, Elizabeth, described his lasting testimony in a letter to her brother David Whitmer: “From the hour when the glorious vision of the Holy Messenger revealed to mortal eyes the hidden prophecies which God had promised his faithful followers should come forth in due time, until the moment when he passed away from earth, [Oliver] always without one doubt or shadow of turning affirmed the divinity and truth of the Book of Mormon.’”6
David already knew that. Thirty-seven years earlier, joined by two of the Eight Witnesses (John Whitmer and Hyrum Page) and other family members and friends, he had heard Oliver declare his final testimony: “I was present at the deathbed of Oliver Cowdery,” he said, “and his last words were, ‘Brother David, be true to your testimony to the Book of Mormon.”7

In September 2023, the De’Beauvilles made a dream trip to the Dominican Republic to be sealed in the temple. They also witnessed their youngest son’s endowment as he prepared to serve a mission to Côte d’Ivoire. This experience, considered one of the best days of their lives, marked a culmination of their devotion to the gospel and to each other. With a deep desire to continue their service, the De’Beauvilles hope to return to the temple as missionaries.

Keith K., 19, Arizona, USA
I’m Keith, and I am an aspiring rapper, music producer, and recording engineer. I have a testimony because I wanted one. I wanted to know that the Church I had spent my whole life in was true. So I studied the scriptures, prayed earnestly, and looked to others in my ward for guidance. And sure enough, through those things, I was able to gain a testimony of the truthfulness of this gospel.