Gospel Story Finder

“For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.
“But thou, O man of God, flee these things; and follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, meekness.
“Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life, whereunto thou art also called, and hast professed a good profession before many witnesses” (1 Timothy 6:10–12).
I related to my family how I had prepared myself for the banking profession. Dad was the bank attorney. From my newspaper delivery earnings, I saved enough to buy 10 shares of First National Bank stock. Dad insisted that I attend the stockholders’ meetings and vote my 10 shares. He thought that was a way of introducing me to the banking profession. A job offer came after graduation that was much more lucrative than banking. I thought I would accept the position for a few years and then return to banking. I never did become a banker. I tried to teach my grandchildren that choosing a major in college is not as important as developing integrity, ethics, and good study habits and building character as a person of faith, confidence, and industry.

Sabrina watched as Mom walked to the door with their neighbors. “Thank you for this book,” the father said. He was holding a Book of Mormon.
“Mom, why do you talk about the Church to everyone?” Sabrina asked later while they washed dishes together.
“It’s because my testimony of the Church is like a treasure,” Mom said. “It makes me happy. And I want to share it with others so they can be happy too!”
Sabrina pictured Mom’s shiny necklace in her jewelry box. “What do you mean it’s like a treasure?”
“Well, a testimony is very valuable,” Mom said. “It’s a gift from Heavenly Father that helps us know what’s true.”
“How did you get it?” Sabrina wanted to know.
Mom handed Sabrina a sparkling clean dish to dry. “I got it a little at a time. When I pray or read the scriptures, I feel peaceful and warm inside. It’s like I’m adding to my testimony treasure.”
Sabrina nodded slowly. Could she get a testimony treasure?
On Sunday, Sabrina’s Primary teacher told a story about Jesus Christ. Sabrina listened closely. Sister Lopez said Jesus invited all the little children to come to Him. He blessed and taught them. When Sabrina thought about Jesus, she started to feel warm in her heart.
Sabrina hurried to find Mom after Primary. “Mom, guess what?” She told Mom about the warm feeling.
“That’s beautiful,” Mom said. “That feeling is when the Holy Ghost touches our hearts and lets us know the gospel is true.”
Sabrina smiled up at Mom. “That’s what happened! It made me happy inside.” The Holy Ghost had been so quiet that Sabrina knew she wouldn’t have noticed Him if she hadn’t been reverent.
Mom hugged her tight. “Now you’re getting your own testimony treasure.” Sabrina hugged Mom back. She wanted to share her treasure with everyone—just like Mom did! But how could she do that?
That night Sabrina found a pass-along card with a picture of Jesus on the front. She tucked it in her backpack.
The next day when it was time for recess, Sabrina remembered the card. She pulled it out and went to find her friend Carla. “Here, Carla, this is for you,” Sabrina said.
Carla held the card close. “Thank you! I love pictures of Jesus.”
Sabrina showed Carla the website on the back. “You can learn more about Jesus’s Church here.”
“What church is that?” Carla asked.
“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” Sabrina said. “Going to church and learning about Jesus makes me happy.”
Carla put the card in her pocket. “I’ll show this card to my mom.”
A few weeks later, Carla ran up to Sabrina before class. “I have something to tell you!” she said. She had a big smile on her face.
Sabrina was excited. What could it be? Carla smiled. “My family went to your church! And it was like you said—I felt happy there.”
“I knew you would feel the Holy Ghost!” Sabrina said.
“And I think we’re going to get baptized soon!”
Sabrina jumped up and hugged Carla. Now they could share their testimony treasures together!

One of these lesser pieces has helped me learn an enduring lesson. I was in the Salt Lake Temple one day, preparing to leave the dressing room after participating in an ordinance for the dead. Noticing a drinking fountain, I realized I was thirsty, so I bent down for a quick drink. A message came into my mind:
You drink this water in the temple, but do you really drink the living water that is available here?
It wasn’t a pounding condemnation—just a gentle rebuke and a soul-penetrating question.
My answer to that question was no. I wasn’t completely drinking the temple’s living water. I had to admit that my mind had wandered minutes earlier as I received ordinances for the dead. Although I had done a good work for people who needed my help, I hadn’t allowed myself to receive all the help I needed.
Now, every time I go to a temple, I look for a drinking fountain and stop for a drink. I ask myself how deeply I am drinking from the fountain of living water. My answer: Still not deeply enough. But my thirst is increasing.

To you deacons, may I say that I recall the time when I was ordained a deacon. Our bishopric stressed the sacred responsibility which was ours to pass the sacrament. Emphasized were proper dress, a dignified bearing, and the importance of being clean inside and out. As we were taught the procedure in passing the sacrament, we were told how we should assist Louis McDonald, a particular brother in our ward who was afflicted with a palsied condition, that he might have the opportunity to partake of the sacred emblems.
How I remember being assigned to pass the sacrament to the row where Brother McDonald sat. I was fearful and hesitant as I approached this wonderful brother, and then I saw his smile and the eager expression of gratitude that showed his desire to partake. Holding the tray in my left hand, I took a small piece of bread and pressed it to his lips. The water was later served in the same way. I felt I was on holy ground. And indeed I was. The privilege to pass the sacrament to Brother McDonald made better deacons of us all.

In December 1980, President Spencer W. Kimball sent the director of the Church’s real estate department to Manila to find an appropriate site for a temple. After considering several sites, the director submitted a request to buy 3.5 acres (1.4 ha) in Quezon City. The site overlooks the Marikina Valley, and its location is relatively accessible to many Church members. The request was approved, and the property was purchased in January 1981. The street name was changed to Temple Drive at the request of the Church.

For the groundbreaking ceremony on August 25, 1982, despite the threat of a typhoon, about 2,000 Church members gathered from all parts of the islands by boat, train, and bus. Construction of the temple soon commenced, and it was ready to be dedicated in August 1984.

Nearly 27,000 members and nonmembers toured the temple before its dedication. They came despite two typhoons—just 48 hours apart—that had ripped through the Philippines a few days before. Saints from distant provinces arrived weary but buoyant. In many cases they had been forced to take circuitous routes to Manila because roads had been flooded and bridges damaged by overflowing rivers.

The beauty of the temple impressed the visitors, including many prominent Filipinos. Writer Celso Carunungan commented on “a feeling of holiness, that when you get inside you are going to confront your Creator.” Colonel Bienvenido Castillo, chief chaplain of the Philippine Constabulary, said the temple is “a place where you can contemplate heavenly things because you are in such an environment.” Two nuns felt the temple “is truly a house of the Lord.” Eva Estrada-Kalaw, a member of the Philippine parliament, told guides, “I wish you would build more temples here.”6

President Hinckley, Second Counselor in the First Presidency at the time, led the services to lay the cornerstone on Tuesday, September 25, 1984. Nine dedicatory sessions followed, held in the celestial room. Some 6,500 Saints from 16 stakes and 22 districts in the Pacific Area attended the various sessions.

As soon as the last dedicatory session was completed, Paulo V. Malit Jr. and Edna A. Yasona became the first couple to be married in the Manila Philippines Temple, on September 27, 1984. The first president of that temple, W. Garth Andrus, solemnized the marriage ceremony.

Scores of Church members queued up to receive their endowments, beginning with the ordinance workers. Temple work continued through the night into the next day.

Members felt an increased desire to enter the temple. Those who lived far from Manila had to sacrifice much to travel the great distance by boat or bus. But still they came and brought with them stories of faith and determination.

For Bernardo and Leonides Obedoza of General Santos, going to the temple in faraway Manila seemed impossible. But like the merchant man who went and sold all he had to buy one pearl of great price (see Matthew 13:45–46), this couple decided to sell their house to pay for the trip so that they and their children could be sealed as an eternal family. After they sold their home and most of their possessions, they managed to scrape together the exact amount to pay the boat fare to Manila for their family of nine. Leonides was worried because they would have no home to return to. But Bernardo assured her that the Lord would provide. They were sealed as a family for time and all eternity in the temple in 1985. It was worth every sacrifice they had made, for in the temple they found joy incomparable—their priceless pearl. And true to Bernardo’s words, the Lord did provide. On their return from Manila, kind acquaintances gave them places to stay. Their children completed their schooling, and the family eventually acquired their own home in a new location.

“I had carried with me a Russian Book of Mormon through the entire tour, and by Saturday—the last day of the tour—I had not handed it out. I wondered why I had not given it away earlier,” said Wilma S. Livsey. “As I went to breakfast in our St. Petersburg hotel, up the stairs came one of our Russian guides—a beautiful young woman. She asked if I was ready to go. I said, ‘No, I have to find a place for my Book of Mormon.’ I showed it to her. She said she would like it. Surprised, I said, ‘No, this book is for someone very special. It must be. I have carried it all over eastern Europe waiting for the right person to give it to.’ She again said that she would like the book. ‘But this book must go to someone who will read it. It is Russian.’ Then she said with great intensity, ‘I read Russian. I will read it. I want the book!’ Tears welled up in her eyes as she said, ‘I’d like to start reading it right now.’ I then handed the book to her. I told her that the book was a second witness for Christ—and that the Bible was the first. I told her of the promise in the book of Moroni and told her that if she prayed after she read it, and if she felt the same about it as I did, she was to get in touch with missionaries. I gave her a card with the mission home address on it. Tears came down both our faces as we hugged, and she again said, ‘I want the book. I promise I will read it.’”

Harold Connolly had broken his left arm several times. It was only two-thirds the size of his right. To exercise and build up the smaller arm, he began throwing the hammer back to Boston College’s regular throwers. Soon he was tossing it back farther than they were throwing it, so he entered the event. He later broke the world record and won a gold medal. He made himself strongest where he was weakest.

When I was a little boy, my widowed mother gave me the most severe discipline possible. She said, with tears in her eyes, “My son, I am so disappointed in you.” The pain in my heart was more than I could bear. A thousand lashes could not have cut me so deeply. I knew that such a rebuke could only have been made to me out of her pure love, for if there was one thing that I was certain of, it was that my mother loved me. I resolved never again to be subject to the disappointment and the broken heart of an angel mother. I believe that I have succeeded in that resolve.

In July my husband and I went to Philmont, the Scout training center in New Mexico. Gathered there were 150 priesthood leaders and their families in that beautiful camp where the plain meets the soaring, pine-covered mountains.
Jeremy Judd was there with his family, and he celebrated his eighth birthday during that week. Because Jeremy wanted to be baptized on his eighth birthday, his father, Alma, made the arrangements. That Saturday afternoon I participated in one of the most spiritual baptismal experiences of my life.
Baptismal clothes were borrowed from a nearby ward. We drove to a stream located about fifteen minutes from camp where the water was deep enough to perform the ordinance. It was a secluded spot in the wilderness. A bank overlooked the stream as it flowed through a clearing of stately cottonwoods. We stood in the high grass and listened carefully as first the mother and then the father spoke to their son about the ordinance that was about to be performed. They reminded Jeremy of the importance of the covenant he was about to make. They indicated that the covenant he was making was a promise, or an agreement, to obey all the laws of the gospel. They told him he should consider baptism as the entrance into a new life—with the Savior as his example.
Then the father took his son by the hand and walked down the bank, over the pebbles, and into the water. There he immersed his young son in the water of the clear-flowing stream after the pattern given by the Lord. The boy’s sixteen-year-old sister stood by my side, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she whispered, “I am so happy for Jeremy.” I too was happy for Jeremy, and at that moment I remembered the joy I felt at my own baptism.
After Jeremy had changed his clothes, he stood in the clearing while his father and the other brethren laid their hands upon his head and confirmed him a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
With the sunlight on his wet hair and a radiance on his face, Jeremy felt a reverent calm, and he confided in me with wonder and excitement, “I was baptized in a river just like Jesus!”
The spot in the River Jordan where Jesus was baptized by John the Baptist must have looked something like this beautiful place where we stood. I could almost hear John protesting, “I have need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou to me?” Then the quiet, calm reply of the Savior, “Suffer it to be so now: for thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness.” (Matt. 3:14–15.)
And Jesus was baptized to fulfill the law and to give us the pattern to follow.
When Jeremy’s father said amen to the words of his son’s confirmation prayer, I looked at that young boy and wondered if he was ready for the responsibility of the covenant he had just made. Would he follow the teachings of Jesus by living a new and renewed life? Did he understand his commitment to bear witness to the world of Jesus Christ?
I think a great deal about these things because children are my special concern. I tell you that they can and do honor their commitments made in the waters of baptism.
You will find examples of them around the world—like Lisa. Lisa, age eleven, lives in England. She came home from school one day feeling very excited. She had been asked to read a part in the school devotional assembly the following morning. She said to her mother, “But some of the words are wrong.” Her mother discovered that one paragraph referred to God and the Holy Ghost as being one and the same person. Lisa and her mother decided to write a letter to Lisa’s teacher explaining that this paragraph was contrary to Lisa’s belief, and that she would feel much happier leaving it out.
The next afternoon her mother waited anxiously for Lisa to return home from school. She came home with a big, bright smile on her face. Not only had the teacher let her leave the paragraph out, but she had asked for more information about the Church. In addition, the teacher asked Lisa to present an assembly about the Church. All this came about because Lisa lived up to the covenant she had made and was willing to witness to the world her own beliefs.
Thinking about Alma Judd and his son Jeremy reminds me of another Alma who stepped into a fountain of pure water in the land of Mormon to perform the ordinance of baptism for other believers.
The Book of Mormon records that Alma was one who heard the teachings of Abinadi and believed. He urged King Noah not to put Abinadi to death, and this made the wicked king angry. Alma was driven out of the city and hid in a thicket by a spring of pure water.
From this place of refuge in the wilderness, Alma began to teach the words of Abinadi. Those who believed came out of the city to the pure waters of Mormon, and there Alma preached unto them repentance, redemption, and faith on the Lord.
Then Alma said to them: “As ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, … what have you against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a covenant with him, That ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?” (Mosiah 18:8–10.) Then one by one Alma took them into the waters and baptized them.
Baptism is the beginning of a new life for each one of us, a life of purpose. The Lord is very clear as to what it means to keep his commandments, come into his fold, and be called his people. His people are “willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;
“Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort.” (Mosiah 18:8–9.)
And, like Lisa, the eleven-year-old girl from England, his people are willing “to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places.” (Mosiah 18:9.) It is the Lord’s will that children at the age of eight begin to be responsible for the kind of lives they lead. You girls who are ten and eleven, and all of us, must assume this same responsibility. In so doing we are becoming a Zion people, which the Doctrine and Covenants says are people who are “pure in heart.” (D&C 97:21.) After baptism we can live a new, more thoughtful life as described by the Christ.
Into our office come countless stories of the faithfulness of children who are keeping the promises they have made at baptism.
Christina was such a girl. When her Primary teacher’s husband died, Christina showed great concern. As soon as she heard the sad news, she went to her teacher and told her not to worry, that she would check in on her every day to make sure that she was all right. And she did. She would often take fresh vegetables from the garden to cheer her up. She wanted her teacher to know she cared. Christina truly comforted one who needed comfort.
From Idaho comes a story of Jonathan, who went to school in the cold weather wearing his warm hat. When he got to school, he noticed another boy’s ears were frostbitten because he had had to wait so long in the cold for the school bus to pick him up. On his own, Jonathan went to the telephone, called his mother, and asked if it would be all right to give the younger boy his hat because he needed it more. As we bear on another’s burdens, as Jonathan did, we are fulfilling the covenant we made at baptism.
Ellen was a young girl who really gained an understanding of repentance. While at the store, she took an item without paying for it. But when she got home, she felt miserable. She confided in her mother: “I’m so sorry I took it; will you take it back for me?”
Her mother said, “I can’t repent for you, Ellen. You must repent yourself. You will have to take it back and say you are sorry.”
It was hard, but she did it. “This is my first repentance,” Ellen said. “I’m glad I know how to make things right.”
Repentance makes it possible to return to the straight and narrow path and become as pure as we were at baptism.
We can all do what Christ asks us to do. He has a plan that will bring us happiness. As he whispers through the Spirit, he tells us how to follow his plan.
I Can Follow God’s Plan for Me
My life is a gift; my life has a plan.
My life has a purpose; in heav’n it began.
My choice was to come to this lovely home on earth,
And seek for God’s light to direct me from birth.
I can follow God’s plan for me,
Holding fast to his word and his love.
I will work and I will pray;
I will always walk in his way.
Then I will be happy on earth,
And in my home above.
(Supplement to More Songs for Children, pp. 10–11.)
In this song the ten- and eleven-year-old girls have told us we can be happy now and forever if we follow God’s plan, which begins with baptism. It is the gate to the celestial kingdom. (See 2 Ne. 31:18.)
As followers of Christ, we should “look forward with one eye, having one faith and one baptism, having … hearts knit together in unity and in love one towards another.” (Mosiah 18:21.)
Each of us who has been baptized has covenanted with the Lord to serve him and keep his commandments. Like Lisa, we must stand as a witness of God. Like Christina, we must comfort those in need. Like Jonathan, we must bear one another’s burdens. Like Ellen, we must repent.
I pray that we will have unity and love as we strive together to keep the covenant we have made at baptism, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Like any self-respecting teenager in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I attended seminary for four consecutive years. This meant long hours of gospel learning in addition to Sunday and family study hours. It was sometimes a difficult and trying experience.
I began seminary in 2017 in our Pare Ward of the Arue Tahiti Stake. I was in 9th grade in school at the time, and I was eager to be part of this youth group.
During my first year, I woke up before 5 a.m. every weekday to get to seminary on time. I did my readings, and I was very attentive in class. I realized seminary contributed to deepening my relationship with God. Without Him, I would not have been able to successfully pass my school’s National Certificate Exam at the end of year 9.
Over the next two years, I gradually became lax in my duties, missing seminary or arriving late more often. I lost my desire to attend seminary, so I was less consistent in my efforts.
Accordingly, my 10th year in school was difficult, but I was unaware at the time of how this was related to my performance in seminary.
In year 11, I started going out with classmates who dabbled in things our Church doesn’t recommend, like alcohol and cigarettes. I even felt a little ashamed of not being like these friends and not hanging out more with them.
Consequently, my annual grades were low and if I had to take the bachelor exam that year, I doubt I would have passed.
Then, the COVID pandemic changed our daily lives, which I thank God for. When seminary classes started up on our smartphones, it was as if to counteract the evil that is also rampant on there.
Although I still had moments of weakness, I decided to hang in there and tried to sincerely follow the lessons of seminary, to benefit from God’s help in my studies.
I am grateful for my parents. Without them, I would have dropped out of seminary and followed the same path as my nonmember friends. As my favorite seminary teachers, they watched over me, making sure I stayed connected to God.
Then, healthy social relationships with the youth of the ward became my lifeline. Our activities together renewed me each time I was not in the mood. Among these friends was Corail Sommers, who never judged but always listened and encouraged and raised me up by her example.
In their own ways, they each contributed to my personal balance.
The discipline of daily immersion in the scriptures paid off in my last year of seminary, which was also my 12th and final year of school.
My seminary study habits allowed me to be better organized. While I’m not a fan of reading, I strove to read daily. It allowed me to maintain my relationship—even a fragile one—with Heavenly Father.
That year, I passed my bachelor diploma with honors. I got my driver’s license on my first try. I received my call to serve a mission in Paris. All in all, the hand of God was in my life the whole time I was in seminary and at school.
Looking back, I testify that God will always help because He loves us.
Seminary is exactly what we need as young people to help us to trust God and to let him prevail in our lives. He always trusted me.

Several years ago, Sister Nattress and I moved to Idaho, where we opened a new business. There were long days and nights at the office. Thankfully, we lived just a few blocks away from work. Each week, Shawna and our three daughters—all under the age of six—would come to the office to share lunch together.
On one such day after our family lunch, I noticed that our five-year-old daughter, Michelle, had left me a personal message, written on a Post-it Note and attached to my office telephone.
It simply read, “Dad, remember to love me. Love, Michelle.” This was a powerful reminder to a young father about those things that matter most.

Visibility is generally low in Lake Mead in Nevada, and since we were diving shortly after a storm, we knew it would be very difficult to see. The weather, however, was beautiful. So we loaded our equipment on the boat and headed out. We beached the boat on a small island about 150 yards east of where we knew a large boat had sunk years before. After putting on our diving gear, we swam the distance on the surface of the water to the buoy that marked the location of the wreck.
Once we reached the buoy, we descended below the surface along the rope that held the buoy to the boat far below. Visibility was even poorer than we had expected. We held tightly to the rope as we continued our descent, trying in vain to see through the murky darkness which surrounded us. We could not see the wreck until we were within ten feet of it. For the next 40 minutes, we explored in and around the large boat.
When we decided it was time to return to the island, I indicated to my friend that we should return underwater rather than surface swim. Swimming underwater is far less strenuous, and I had no desire to repeat the exhausting surface swim which we endured before the dive began. Suspended a few feet above the lake floor, I looked at my compass and decided to head directly east. I had unwisely not taken a compass bearing before descending, but I had noticed that our boat was generally east.
My friend and I swam for about 20 yards before the lake bed dropped out of sight below us. We needed to maintain our current depth rather than descending with the lake bottom, so we continued east for another 50 yards. At that point my friend and I conferred. As we looked around, we could see no more than ten feet in any direction. The murky darkness around us was eerie, and we knew if our original compass bearing was off by a few degrees, we would miss the island entirely. We decided it would be safest to ascend to the surface and complete our swim to the island from there.
I checked my depth gauge. It said 55 feet. We began our ascent. Looking around, we could see nothing but dark green, murky water around us and our bubbles rising to the surface. We were being careful not to go up too quickly. A good rule is to not rise faster than your smallest bubbles. Our small bubbles were creeping past us, so we felt safe. After about a minute, I knew something was wrong. The light was the same, the temperature had not changed, and there was no easing of the pressure on our bodies. It did not feel like we were rising. I checked the depth gauge again. It said 58 feet.
What?
All that time I thought I was making positive progress, I was, in fact, sinking deeper into the depths below. I began kicking faster toward the surface and kept a close eye on my depth gauge because I now needed to rely on the instrument to guide me to the surface. The needle began to creep slowly upward.
My friend had adopted a similar strategy, and we moved together toward the surface. The murky darkness around us lightened. The water temperature began to rise, and the pressure on our bodies began to ease as we continued our ascent. When we broke the water’s surface, I felt an incredible surge of relief. Looking quickly at my compass, I realized we might have missed the island had we not decided to surface when we did.
As we broke the water’s surface, one thought struck me. I thought of Lehi’s vision of the tree of life where he sees many people pressing forward along the straight and narrow path toward the tree which represents the love of God. As the people progress, a mist of darkness arises to blind the eyes and harden the hearts of the people. Never before had this story hit me with as much force as it did that day at the lake. When I was below the surface, I was blind as to which direction to go and I had difficulty getting my bearings.
My compass and depth gauge helped me that day, but it would have been much easier to follow the same rope to the surface which we had held onto as we had descended to the wreck. I felt what a desperate state we can find ourselves in if we do not hold fast to the iron rod—the word of God—to keep us on the path toward eternal life.

I was born in Romania. That is a country far, far away from my home in Salt Lake City, Utah. My mother went to Romania and adopted me. She loved Romania, but she said that there was not much food there. My mom found me in a hospital. I was three months old and weighed only five pounds.
When we got to Salt Lake City, I was very sick. I couldn’t keep food in my stomach, so I was very skinny. And I had sores all over my body.
My mom kept praying that I would get better. One night, she had a vivid dream about what she was supposed to feed me. The next morning, she got up and made rice pudding and put it in the blender so she could feed it to me using a baby bottle. Not only did I eat it, but I liked it a lot.
Rice was all I would eat for six months. The sores all over my body went away, and I started gaining weight. Mom says that she knows Heavenly Father inspired her to feed me rice pudding, because she doesn’t like it and had never made it before. I’m glad Heavenly Father knew that rice pudding would help me get better. My mom calls me the Rice Pudding Baby.
Kateri Daniela Combs, age 8Salt Lake City, Utah

I was once moved by a Christlike example of everyday ministering when I was shopping in a big grocery store. I came across a lady who was trying to lift heavy cases of water into her cart.

A man nearby quickly noticed that she was struggling and came over to help. When they got the cases loaded, he even asked if she needed any more help from him.

As I noticed this beautiful act, this stranger looked over at me and greeted me kindly with a smile. His expression seemed to say that he was willing to help me as well if I needed it.

His example reminded me of the Savior.

The Savior always ministered without hesitation when He saw a need. He often served and offered His aid without question—only love. Seeing the example of this man has stuck with me and inspired me to look for everyday opportunities to minster in my own life. And I now see that those opportunities are everywhere.

I was very excited when I found out that my friend Hilary was going to stay with our family for eight days while her parents were on a trip. We always have lots of fun playing with dolls, riding bikes, and playing together in the backyard.
One morning when Hilary was staying with us, my mom read us the words of King Benjamin for scripture study. He said that we should “love one another, and … serve one another” (Mosiah 4:15). That afternoon after school, Hilary and I made a plan. We decided to surprise my family by showing them love and service.
We got up early the next morning and set the table for breakfast. Before we jumped back into bed, we laid out our clothes to wear that day and the clothes for my two younger brothers.
When it was Sunday, we emptied the dishwasher, cleared and washed off all the breakfast dishes, and swept the kitchen floor. Then we went straight to my room and got into our Sunday clothes. My mom was afraid that we’d be late for church with an extra person to get ready, but we helped her so much that our family arrived at sacrament meeting ten minutes early!
The last day of Hilary’s stay, she did all my kitchen jobs for me and helped my mom with my little brother, Grant. I secretly packed up her suitcase and gathered together all the things she needed to take home. Then I set the table for dinner, put clean towels in the bathroom, set out everyone’s toothbrushes, and straightened up the family room. I didn’t want to stop! My mom was really happy about everything we had done, and we felt very, very good inside.
Hilary and I decided that showing love and giving service to each other and to our families is just as much fun as riding bikes and playing with dolls.

My wife and I have discovered that Scandinavia is a beautiful land filled with people of great ability and promise. Our family has a special interest in Denmark. It is the ancestral home of my wife’s great-great-grandparents. These ancestors came from Aalborg, Veeborg, Vila, and Presta. One of her great-great-grandfathers was Jens Christian Johansen. He was born in Frederikssund in Jutland in 1832. We have been privileged to read his journal, and we have become more appreciative of the rich spiritual heritage we enjoy as a result of this righteous Danish ancestor.
Jens Johansen was an industrious man. He had grown up in poverty and had prayed that his children would not be required to go begging for food as he had done as a young man. He took a job at an early age. He worked as a stable boy. He learned to farm and to make wooden shoes. His integrity and ambition as a worker enabled him to purchase a farm in Hormesta in 1857. It was at this time that the missionaries came to Grandfather Johansen and his family. He accepted the restored gospel with the same enthusiasm and dedication that had characterized his working endeavors. He worked hard trying to help the Church increase in numbers and influence in his community. Church meetings were often held in his home. At that time there was the desire among many Scandinavians to immigrate to Utah. And Jens Johansen had this same desire. Since he couldn’t go himself, he sent his three daughters in advance. In one year they had earned enough money to help their parents to follow them. He called this a miracle.
Jens discovered that his Danish talents of thrift and industry were assets in his new homeland. It was not long before he bought a small farm and erected a home on it for his family. He located in Elsinore, Utah. Grandfather Johansen’s faith in the Lord enabled him to deal successfully with hardships and challenges. It allowed him to live an enjoyable life. He enjoyed music. He loved to sing and to play the accordion. He liked to speak in Church meetings. He records that his favorite meetings were the ones spoken in Danish. He stated that they were “spoken loud enough so we could all hear and say amen.” He couldn’t understand why those speaking English always mumbled so no one could understand. He took pride in the labor of his hands. His skills were often sought after by his associates. He would willingly provide help to those in need, and he gratefully acknowledged the contributions others made toward his own comfort and happiness.

For units where face-to-face meetings are allowed but not yet advisable for Primary-age children, President Rizaldito and Sister Josette Castro of Davao 1st Ward, Davao Stake advise parents to find ways to help keep their young ones focused on Sunday as the Lord’s day. “We have our two younger children watch Church videos for children while they wait for online Primary,” says President Castro, who serves as stake president. “We also teach them reverence for the Lord by having them wear Sunday best clothes,” he adds.
Sister Castro also has her two boys Boyd, 11, and Kiel, 6, make the most out of Primary online resources such as the Activity Pages and the Children’s Guidebook, which are both available online (www.churchofjesuschrist.org) and in the Church’s Gospel Library app. “We also adjusted our family home evening schedule to Sunday night so that the whole family can focus on the gospel more on the sabbath,” she reveals.

Anthon stepped from his doorway onto the cobbled street, hesitated, and turned back to his wife—“the best in the land” he called her.
“Are you coming, Ibine?”
His wife stepped out of the doorway. She was wrapped in woolen scarves and a heavy coat. The February night was icy cold. Their destination was the seashore, a few blocks from their home. The children followed Ibine out the door. Thorvald and Astra were too young to be baptized but not too young to be excited for their parents. Only Anthon didn’t feel excited. He was quiet and pensive while walking along the clean-swept streets of Aalborg, Denmark.
As he passed his little garden, now covered with the white of winter, he remembered the first time he had met the missionaries almost two years ago. It was in the summer of 1893. They had come by and talked with him as he stood bent over, pruning bushes.
“Those missionaries planted a sweet seed in my heart that day. It all seemed sensible,” he remembered. As he walked slowly along he remembered other things, too. “The next day the minister came, and I told him what the missionaries had told me. He tore every word to pieces, and he filled me with his talk again. The next time the elders came, I told them what the minister told me. They taught me the gospel again and planted the seed again. It soon became obvious that I had to know for myself.”
The night was very dark. The children cuddled close to their parents. The hand of tiny Thorvald squeezed his father’s and pretty little Astra clung to Ibine. Anthon looked down at Thor and remembered his own childhood. He remembered the cows he had herded, the wooden shoes he had worn in winter, his own sister who died in a terrible blizzard too far from home to get help. He remembered the worried look of his father who couldn’t support his family of nine during the mid-1800s war with Germany. He remembered working from 2:00 in the morning until 11:00 at night on a farm in order to help. He remembered crying in bed at night. “I wondered what I was sent on this earth for. I couldn’t see what good I was doing. All I could see ahead was endless work to no real worthwhile end.”
The frigid cold gripped Anton’s face, and he wondered if the children or Ibine were uncomfortable. The chilling breeze made him think of glacier ice, and he remembered learning that ice-age glaciers had left his Denmark an undulating flatland well suited to farming and agriculture. He was grateful that at least a few years of formal education were mandatory—that his country believed in the virtues of learning and working. He saw ships’ masts in the harbor poking above the fields.
He and his family were nearing the place where they would be baptized. A sick feeling of loneliness hit him in his stomach. “My homeland, my forefathers, all that has been good to me—am I giving up their trust in me for a far-fetched religion sprouted in a distant; new country?”
Then he and his little family turned the corner of the last block. They could see the ice-covered water clearly. Anthon felt the whitened wool next to his skin. He had been ordered to wear it constantly since his illness. His illness! Yes, he remembered the birth of his testimony. He had been healed after 12 months of life and death struggle with pneumonia. The elders had said that with faith and a special blessing called administration he could be healed. He had submitted to their counsel and believed. Shortly after, Anthon had resolutely cleared away the dark clouds that had been gathering around his search for truth. He told the ministers of the other churches that he could not serve two masters. (See Matt. 6:24.) They had been good neighborhood friends, but with his decision to join the Mormons, that friendship ended—the ministers gave him up as a lost soul.
Every member of the Mormon church who lived in Aalborg was there on the seashore, some holding lanterns. It was a small but cheery group. They sang hymns and smiled. But Anthon was still quiet. He looked into the faces of his beautiful children and wondered if he was doing what was right for them. He knew he would have to find a private school for them because the prejudice in the public schools against the few Mormon children was too much for such young children to bear.
The singing was over. A prayer was given to open the meeting. The missionaries asked a blessing on Brother and Sister Jensen that as they were baptized they would not fall ill from the freezing temperatures. A hole was chopped in the ice. The sacred ordinance was performed for both Anthon and his wife, Ibine. The two new members were welcomed with hugs and handshakes and sent quickly home to their warm fireplace. It was then that Anthon noticed something special—something unexpected. On their way home he found himself walking, almost skipping, with lightened step—his wife and children smiling at him all the way. The heavy burdens of worry had been lifted. He knew he had done the right thing, and above all he knew now that there was something important for him to do in life.
“I went to my former friend and minister the next day to bear him my testimony. I was so happy that I felt I could convert the whole world, and I wanted to,” he later recorded. “I wanted everyone to feel the peace and the joy that came from my baptism. And the most wonderful thing of all, I had an assurance that greater joys and greater knowledge were yet in store—not only for me but for my beautiful family.”

“Nicole, the Johnsons are coming again tonight,” Mom said. “Have you prayed like they asked you to?”
“No, not yet,” I said.
Elder and Sister Johnson are a missionary couple in our ward. They’ve been coming to family home evening to teach me the missionary discussions.
My family hasn’t always gone to church, so there were some things I didn’t understand. Now that I’m about to turn eight, Mom says that I need to decide if I’m going to be baptized.
Last week Elder and Sister Johnson taught me about how Joseph Smith prayed to find out the truth. Then they asked me to pray about getting baptized.
“Pay attention to how you feel,” Sister Johnson said. “That’s how the Holy Ghost helps us know what is true.”
I thought maybe I could wait until I’m 14 like Joseph Smith was.
Tonight for our lesson Elder Johnson stacked cups on top of each other to make a tower. He said if you don’t have a good foundation, the whole tower falls down.
“Why do you think the Church has such a strong foundation?” he asked.
I remembered last week’s lesson. “Maybe it’s because Heavenly Father and Jesus told Joseph Smith how to restore it,” I said.
“Right,” Elder Johnson said. “And we have living prophets and apostles to keep it on the right track.”
That made sense. I always had a good feeling when I heard about President Thomas S. Monson.
Then Sister Johnson asked me the question I was dreading.
“Have you prayed about getting baptized?”
“No, not yet,” I said.
“Do you want to be baptized?” Sister Johnson asked.
I wished I could answer her, but I just shrugged my shoulders.
My little sister thinks I’m scared of being dunked in the water because that’s what she would be scared of. But I like the water, so I wasn’t sure what I was worried about.
“Are you afraid of the responsibility?” Sister Johnson asked.
As soon as Sister Johnson said that, I knew she was right. Mom said that after I’m baptized, I’ll be accountable. That means I’ll be responsible for what I choose. I’ll have to be careful to keep God’s commandments. I’m not sure if I’m ready for that responsibility. What if I stop going to church like my dad did?
“When you turn eight, you will be accountable for your choices even if you don’t get baptized,” Sister Johnson said. “But after you get baptized and confirmed, you’ll have a lot more help in making good choices. That’s because you’ll have the gift of the Holy Ghost.”
We talked about some of the commandments I would need to keep. I already knew that smoking and alcohol and drugs are bad for you, so keeping the Word of Wisdom didn’t sound hard.
After the Johnsons left, I didn’t feel afraid of being baptized anymore. I wanted to make right choices and keep Heavenly Father’s commandments. And I was glad the Holy Ghost would help me.
I went to my room and knelt by my bed. While I was praying, I felt sure that it was a good idea to get baptized. I knew that feeling was the answer to my prayer.

I needed an answer. And not just any answer—I needed to know whether my boyfriend was the man I should marry.
To be clear, I wasn’t looking for a soulmate, or that one perfect person who was destined to be with me. As my boyfriend and I dated, we had become good partners through love, patience, forgiveness, and sacrifice. So, I believed that we could create a happy and successful marriage together. But at 33 years old, I was afraid of making such a significant change—I had worked hard to build a life that I loved, and I wanted to be sure that I was making the right choice.
As we continued to date and started talking seriously about marriage, I had received positive impressions about moving forward with my boyfriend. I tried to trust in those feelings since “all things which are good cometh of God” (Moroni 7:12). However, the biggest feeling I had was that God was letting me make this decision on my own and that He’d support me either way.
This wasn’t exactly surprising—when I have big choices to make, I think God is sometimes intentionally quiet. I consider this to be His way of saying that He trusts me to use my agency. But this was marriage; this could impact me and my boyfriend not only now but into eternity. And so I wondered why I hadn’t received a more obvious confirmation from Him—and if I should be concerned that I hadn’t.
As time progressed, I felt more and more positive about getting married, although the steps I was taking in that direction were still relatively small.
And then one day, I came across a quote that had profound impact on me. It was from a September 2001 devotional by Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He said: “Many of us typically assume we will receive an answer or a prompting to our earnest prayers and pleadings. And we also frequently expect that such an answer or a prompting will come immediately and all at once. Thus, we tend to believe the Lord will give us a big answer quickly and all at one time. However, the pattern repeatedly described in the scriptures suggests we receive ‘line upon line, precept upon precept’ [2 Nephi 28:30], or in other words, many small answers over a period of time.”
I had heard the phrase “line upon line, precept upon precept” many times. But in the past, I had interpreted it to mean that God gives us part of an answer here or there until we finally obtain the answer we need. The idea of Him giving me many small answers was different because to me it meant that when I had a positive feeling or impression, I wasn’t just getting a piece of knowledge—each answer was complete in and of itself. They were just small, subtle answers rather than one large, obvious one.
Those small answers came in a number of ways: a feeling of peace after a special fast, a moment of contentment with my boyfriend in the temple, or some needed advice from a friend or family member at just the right time. In isolation, these experiences might not look like much. But together, they became proof of revelation—a big answer that had formed over a period of time.
Even though my many small answers amounted to one big answer, my fear of change remained. This was confusing. I had thought that revelation would erase my fears. So why were they still there?
This story reminds me of my own experience in seeking revelation about marriage. It wasn’t quick or easy. My fears and trials didn’t just disappear because I had an answer. But revelation gave me the strength and courage to move forward in spite of my worries because I knew that the Lord would light our way. And with His help and continued guidance, I could trust that He would lead us safely to shore.
If there were one thing I could tell my past self, it would be not to stress so much about the process of revelation. Yes, marriage is a big decision, and it’s important to seek God’s guidance when choosing whom to marry. But it doesn’t have to be overly complicated.
Elder Bednar taught: “If you are honoring your covenants, repenting, and pressing forward with faith in the Savior, then you are living in revelation. It does not just come once in a while. You continually are being influenced by the power of the Holy Ghost.”
So I would tell my past self to keep looking for that influence. Because gradually, as you press forward with faith, it will become clear how the Lord is guiding you—one small answer at a time.
Editors’ note: As of summer 2025, the author and her boyfriend were working toward marriage.