Gospel Story Finder

Francisco is sometimes tormented at school because he is a member of the Church. One day two boys he was playing with started to hit him. One of them hit him very hard in the head. “I didn’t fight with them,” he said, “because I don’t like to fight and I know that it is bad. Also something told me not to fight with them. It was the Holy Ghost.”
The director of the school called in the parents of all three boys to help solve the problem. After the meeting, the director told Francisco’s parents how impressed she was with him for not fighting, for telling the truth, and for his good example for the other children. “My friends were punished for what they had done—they couldn’t go out at recess for one or two weeks.” Francisco is grateful that the Holy Ghost prompted him to do what was right.

I was serving as a missionary when I met Susie (name has been changed). She and her family had been taught the gospel by two missionaries who worked in the mission office with me. They had received all the lessons and had accepted the invitation to be baptized and confirmed. It was my privilege to interview this wonderful family of four: mother, father, younger brother, and Susie.
I had completed the baptismal interviews for the other three family members and had found them wonderfully prepared and excited to be part of the Lord’s kingdom. But when Susie walked in, she seemed quiet and somewhat hesitant to meet with me.
I began asking questions about what she had been taught. She knew the story of the Prophet Joseph Smith and believed it; she had read the Book of Mormon and knew it to be true; and she accepted the Church as the only true and living Church on the earth and wanted to be part of it. I asked Susie about her willingness to live the law of tithing, the Word of Wisdom, and other commandments. She said she understood these and was willing to live them for the rest of her life. Indeed, the interview was much like those I had had with the rest of her family.
Then I asked, “Can you tell me what the law of chastity is?” Her countenance immediately changed. I quickly recognized this must be why she seemed hesitant to meet with me. Before I could say anything, she covered her face with both hands, put her face and hands in her lap, and began to sob uncontrollably.
We sat without speaking for several minutes. I was unsure of what to say, and Susie could not stop sobbing. I prayed for the Lord’s help and asked Susie what was wrong. She finally lifted her face and told me that several weeks before meeting the missionaries she and her boyfriend had done things the missionaries had taught her were wrong according to the Lord’s law. She had already told her boyfriend what she had learned and had told him she would no longer be involved in such a relationship. She had even suggested to him that he meet with the missionaries and hear what she now knew was true. Still, the guilt for having engaged in these acts weighed down her soul.
My heart hurt with hers. I wanted so much to help her because I felt that her remorse and her desire to do right and be baptized were sincere. At that moment, the answer to my prayer came clearly. I asked her, “Susie, would you like to be free of the guilt and pain of this sin?” Once again her hands covered her face, and her head bowed. She uttered only one word: “Yes.” Her tears came even more freely, and I consoled her by talking about the Atonement and how she could apply it to her life. I explained that one purpose of baptism and confirmation is to heal the souls of those who are sincere in repentance, and without question I found her to be sincere.
We completed the interview with a prayer. The Spirit of the Lord was clearly present, more powerfully than I had ever before felt in an interview.
My companion and I arrived at the chapel shortly before the baptism. There was no time to speak to Susie or her family prior to the service. After the singing and the talks, they were baptized—first her mother, then her father, then her brother, and finally Susie. She walked down into the font, and her smile told the story—the healing balm of the Master was working in her heart. As she came out of the water, tears were in her eyes and mine. Her smile was even bigger than before, and her countenance was radiant. I understood at that moment why the Savior taught, “Come unto me, all ye that … are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).
We spoke only briefly after the service. I welcomed the family as new members of the Lord’s kingdom. As I shook Susie’s hand, I wanted to tell her how much this experience had meant to me. I had repented in my life and felt the power of the Atonement, but I was grateful to have felt it more powerfully than ever before because of my association with her.
Joining the Church is a challenge in and of itself. Joining under such personally strained circumstances had to be an even greater challenge for Susie, as it is for many new members. But the Atonement of Jesus Christ made the challenge surmountable and led this wonderful daughter of God to conversion and a healing of the soul. It also taught an impressionable young missionary an important lesson about applying the Atonement in his own life.

Hannah held tightly to her mother’s hand. “It’s OK, Hannah. I can go with you to Primary,” Mom said.
Hannah looked around the chapel. She didn’t like this new building. But mostly she didn’t like not knowing anyone.
Last Sunday, Dad had gone with her to Primary. There were only boys in her class. But the teacher said that there was a girl who should be back in class this week. Hannah tried to peek around the tall grown-ups to see the girl who might be in her class.
Suddenly Hannah felt a tap on her elbow. She turned around and saw a girl who was just her height and wore her hair in two long braids.“My name is Natalie,” she said. “Sister Davis said that you were in our Primary class. You can come with me.”
The girl took hold of Hannah’s hand. Hannah looked at Mom. “Thank you for helping Hannah,” Mom said, smiling at Natalie.Hannah swallowed hard and let Natalie lead her out of the chapel.“Now I’m not the only girl in our class,” Natalie said. “Will you be my friend?”“Yes,” Hannah said with a big smile.In sharing time, Natalie sat down next to four boys. Natalie patted the chair next to her so Hannah would sit by her.
“Hi, Natalie,” a boy said.“Hi, Tait,” Natalie said. “This is my new friend Hannah.”Sister Walker asked everyone to sing “When Jesus Christ Was Baptized.” Hannah smiled. She had learned that song in her old Primary. “That’s my favorite song,” she told Natalie.“Tait and I like it too,” Natalie said.Hannah sang with Natalie and Tait. Sister Walker held up pictures of Jesus. Hannah smiled. Maybe she liked this new Primary after all.

“Come on downstairs, everyone!” Mom called. “It’s time for family home evening!”
Sarah reluctantly closed her book and joined her sister and brother as they went into the family room. Family home evening was fun, but she didn’t think it was as exciting as the adventure story she was reading.
After Dad welcomed everyone, Audrey led the family in a song and Tyler gave the opening prayer. Sarah waited for Dad to announce who was giving the lesson. Instead, he said, “We’re going to practice what we would do in an emergency. You have two minutes to get ready and be in the car. Get whatever you would need if you were going to be gone for three days. Go!”
Dad, Mom, Audrey, Tyler, and Sarah jumped up. Sarah dashed to her room, and then stood in the middle of it looking around. What would she need? Clothes! She pulled clothes out of her drawer and put them in a small bag. There wasn’t room for much more, but she stuffed her pajama pants in too, and then remembered her glasses case and the elastic bands for her braces. Would she need a blanket? Or a pillow? She grabbed both.
Two minutes isn’t very long, and Sarah didn’t feel ready when Dad said, “Get in the car, everybody! Bring whatever you have and let’s go!”
Sarah, Audrey, and Tyler ran out to the car, threw in their stuff, and piled into the seats.
Audrey called back into the house, “Mom, I forgot my tennis shoes—will you grab them on your way out?”
Tyler spilled sunflower seeds into his seat-belt buckle, and Dad had to help him dig them out so the seat belt could fasten. “Why did you bring an open bag of sunflower seeds?” Dad asked.
“That’s my food,” Tyler said.
The family van pulled out of the driveway a moment later. “How did we do?” Dad asked. “We got out in good time, but are we prepared for three days away from home?”
“Mom, you got me two different shoes,” Audrey complained. “I can’t wear these.”
“Sorry,” Mom said. “I was trying to pull all the coats out of the closet, and I couldn’t see the shoes very well. At least there’s a right and a left shoe, even if they don’t match.”
“I got some clothes and a blanket, but I forgot my contact lens case and a brush,” Audrey said. “I did remember my toothbrush, though.”
“Oops,” Tyler said. “I guess I’ll have to borrow yours. But I got clothes and a Book of Mormon—except it’s in French. I picked up the wrong one off the bookshelf.”
“I brought my coat too, because I didn’t know where we were going,” Sarah said. “I saw a flashlight in my room, so I brought that, but I didn’t get anything to eat.”
“We have food in the 72-hour (3-day) kits I put in the car,” Dad said. “Do you remember we put those together last year? And there are tents in the duffle bag. Those are always by the back door.”
“Dad, I know we have things ready, but I don’t know where everything is kept,” Audrey said. “Maybe you should show us where to find stuff in case you aren’t at home and the rest of us have to leave.”
“That’s a very good idea, Audrey,” Mom replied. “I’m not sure that I could find everything in a hurry myself. I knew I wanted to get important papers and my scriptures, but I wasn’t very organized. I grabbed bread and peanut butter and apples, but I didn’t have time to fill the cooler with water, so I just pulled jugs of apple cider and milk out of the fridge.”
“Ugh, warm milk?” Tyler asked.
“We’d have to drink it up fast,” Mom said. “Maybe we ought to put some sealed water containers in the garage, in case we need to leave quickly. I’d never thought of that before.”
“Why don’t we go get an ice-cream cone and talk about what we learned tonight?” Dad said.
“I know one thing I want to do,” Sarah said. “It took me a while to decide what to get. Even though I knew it wasn’t for real, I was still scared, and I had a hard time thinking of what I needed. I want to plan what I would gather up ahead of time.”
“I would definitely want a brush,” Audrey said.
“And I would want something more than sunflower seeds,” Tyler said.
Dad nodded. “Let’s all make a list this week of the things we would need if we had to leave suddenly and be gone for three days. Next Monday night we can go over our lists and decide how to get organized so we are prepared to grab items and go. We will probably never need to do that—but if we do, we’ll be ready.”
While she was eating her ice-cream cone, Sarah decided she had been wrong about something. She didn’t miss her exciting book at all tonight; family home evening could definitely be an adventure!

The first time I went on a date with the man who would eventually become my husband, I didn’t feel a spark.
And I reacted how you’d probably expect—I assumed that meant we were incompatible, and I moved on.
But years later, after a series of events that I can only describe as divine intervention, we reconnected. And this time, we fell in love and got married.
So what happened? I’d heard from all my married friends and family members that I would “just know” when I met the right one, and I clearly didn’t on that first date.
To give you a little bit of background, my future husband and I met when he served his mission in my ward. Years later, he reached out over social media. We talked through texting and video calls, but he lived on a different island than me, so it was hard to meet up in person.
When we finally did meet to go on an official date, we’d been talking for about a year, and we had a lot of expectations for how this first date would go.
But we hadn’t seen each other in person for years, and truthfully, we both felt awkward.
Things didn’t feel as amazing or exciting as we’d been anticipating. So after I got back home, as I was busy with a new job and he was juggling life as a medical student, our communication just fizzled out. There was no magical connection, so why should I bother?
Three years passed, and he ended up doing his medical residency within a couple hours of where I lived—close enough that we were now in the same boundaries for YSA conferences.
I know this sounds crazy, but as I sat in the back of one of the conference events, I looked over and saw him. And suddenly, all I could see was him, and I felt this impression from the Spirit:
“He’s the right one.”
What?
I sat there, stunned. Why was I getting this answer now—after years had passed? And what was I supposed to do about it?
Turns out, even with an answer that clear and miraculous, we still needed to get to know each other. He asked me out again; I accepted. Then we kept going on more dates. And as we gave ourselves time to get to know each other instead of relying on an instantaneous connection, we developed something deep and real.
So what about that elusive spark?
Why wasn’t it there the first time?
If you don’t feel one on a first date, does that mean that any potential romantic relationship is doomed?
These are all good questions. And I don’t have the answers to all of them. But here are a few more questions to consider when you’re interested in someone but don’t necessarily feel an immediate connection:
Does this person motivate and inspire me to be the best version of myself?
Do I know what I’m truly looking for in a spouse?
Do I know my true worth as a child of God? And does this person recognize my worth?
Have I sought confirmation from the Spirit that this is a good person for me to date?
Elder Gerrit W. Gong of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “Become that which you seek. Look for someone with whom you can grow together. Grow together means each of you grows as an individual spiritually, intellectually, socially. But grow together also means you fulfill your full potential as you grow together as a couple and as a family.
I don’t want to downplay the desire for attraction and compatibility with your spouse. Of course you should seek someone you think is interesting, kind, attractive, funny, whatever attributes you feel will make life on the covenant path more joyful and wonderful.
But if you find yourself anxiously analyzing a first date, wondering if you felt the “right” things and what they all mean, remember that “God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind” (2 Timothy 1:7). If you trust that you have a sound mind and can receive personal revelation, you can slow down, fully understand your feelings, and take the time you need to decide if you can see a future with someone.
Real, true love is so much more than just a spark.

After graduating with honors from high school, Bien studied political science at the Christian College of the Philippines. “We were talking in class about earthquakes,” Bien remembers, “laughing about getting caught in one.” Suddenly, the whole classroom swayed. It was an earthquake.

Terrified, everyone scrambled to escape. The building was dancing madly. Just as Bien was about to dash to safety through an open door, he was pinned by an avalanche of concrete.

“A broken chair jabbed at my stomach, one of my legs was in a half-kneeling posture, and I was face-down,” he remembers. His fractured right arm bled profusely under a block of collapsed flooring. Yet, incredibly, a huge chunk of fallen concrete had barely missed his head. “Classmates were crying for help, but I couldn’t budge,” Bien recalls. One by one they died, including three lying on Bien. The quake struck in late afternoon, and by evening it was pitch dark. Everything was silent.

“I cried,” Bien admits. But as he wept, a Primary song crossed his mind. He started singing “I Am a Child of God.” As each word pierced the silence, a feeling of peace came, a feeling that he was no longer alone. “I prayed, saying, ‘Father, if I still need to live, then please let me live.’” As he prayed, Bien remembered the Savior. “He suffered a lot more than I did,” Bien realized. The cave-in became a tremendous spiritual experience.

As the sun rose the following morning, so did Bien’s hopes. Rescue workers pried him from the rubble and carried him to safety. His relieved family was notified. Bien was rushed to a hospital. Doctors immediately amputated his right arm. “I woke up, looked at my right side and cried out, ‘What’s happening here?’ I thought I was dreaming.” Shock turned to sorrow. “I felt so lonely because I might not be able to do what I used to do.”

After three bedridden months, Bien went home. Nearly all of his 50 classmates had perished. It seemed the same thing happened to Bien’s will to live. How could he, a right-handed person, manage with just his left arm?

While tutoring his nephews one day, Bien felt prompted to practice writing the alphabet. At first it was pure frustration. “My mind knew the shapes, but my hand had difficulty following.” However, practice makes perfect; less than a year after that fateful day, Bien was not only writing with ease, but was also oil painting again. And he resumed college.

After a year, he felt it was time to make use of his newfound strength and serve a mission. His family was aghast. “We’d really worry about you,” his mother protested.

“I know this is what the Lord wants,” Bien reassured her.

Months later, as a missionary, Bien received a family letter. “Don’t worry about us,” they wrote. “We’re boasting about you already.”

Bien’s personality affects just about everybody. At the Manila Missionary Training Center he was an inspiration, and his dedication has touched the Santa Maria Branch. But Bien admits there are still some challenges, like forgoing basketball and missing service projects like harvesting rice.

One of Bien’s favorite scriptures says God “will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will … also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it” (1 Cor. 10:13). It’s a scripture that helps Bien see everything as a learning experience.

Mission life, he says, “is like a school where I learn much, not only about the gospel but also about myself.” He hastens to add that it was in the rubble of another school where he learned to trust Heavenly Father.

Ask Bien to sum up his blessings, and he’ll share his motto: “I asked God for health that I might do great things, and I was given an infirmity that I might do greater things.”

Then he’ll smile and extend his friendship to you—with a warm, left-handed handshake.

Silver Rain paddled her birchbark canoe with swift, sure strokes, dipping the spoon-shaped wooden oar first on one side of the frail shell and then the other. The bow was headed toward a distant point of land.
Her grandmother, Mourning Dove, seated in the front of the canoe facing her, watched with approval. There were no noisy splashes or roiling of the water. The oar blade was inserted cleanly and lifted the same way at the end of each stroke. Bronzed muscles rippled in the arms of the slightly built girl as the boat glided silently across the deep blue water.
Mourning Dove sighed. Where have the years gone? she wondered. It seemed only yesterday that she had been as young and strong as Silver Rain. Now, in the twilight of her life, the older woman would sit by the cooking fire grinding meal or she would tend her numerous small grandchildren while her sons’ wives did all the more strenuous chores. She had begun to eat a little less food each day, feeling that she was no longer useful to the tribe.
“Where now, Grandmother?” Silver Rain asked quietly, letting the canoe drift. They had rounded the long finger of land, but how could this be the secret place of stunning beauty Mourning Dove had yearned to visit once more? They had reached a dead end. This was only a shallow neck in the huge blue lake where dense forest and tangled vines grew to the edge of the water. The girl was deeply disappointed. There was no hidden valley with a lacy waterfall, giant ferns, riotously blooming flowers, or moss-covered boulders here. The tribe had camped at many sites since then. Perhaps the years she carried had robbed Mourning Dove’s memory.
“There! We go through the trees there,” Mourning Dove cried, pointing at what seemed to be a solid wall of trees. Her eyes glowed with anticipation and she turned to face forward.
“Yes, Grandmother,” Silver Rain murmured gently. She paddled slowly, dreading the old one’s humiliation when she realized that her fading memory had tricked her.
Suddenly the girl smiled with relief and quickened her strokes. There was a narrow path of water between the trees! It was like a silver thread. They were soon swallowed up by a cool green tunnel. The canoe raced over still, crystal clear water with little effort.
Silver Rain, awed by the eerie lush beauty of the tunnel of overhanging trees, was not prepared for their abrupt emergence into the hidden valley nor for the cry of pain from Mourning Dove when she saw only a blackened, burned-over valley.
Silver Rain had been named for the lacy waterfall that bounced down the cliff like a silver veil. And only that remained unchanged. The once-beautiful secret place was an ugly desolation. Months ago a forest fire, probably kindled by a lightning strike, had raged through these wooded hills. Black ashes and charred tree stumps littered the area. Not a single green leaf or blade of grass was left. It was a place of death except for a silvery speckled trout that leaped in a pool near the boulders beneath the waterfall.
After her first agonized cry, Mourning Dove sat motionless. She did not speak again on their return to the camp. Then she entered her tepee and turned her face to the wall. She lay unmoving, refusing to even look upon the food and water Silver Rain carried to her.
Silver Rain fled to the forest in misery. How could she rekindle her grandmother’s spirit? She sat quietly, watching a gray squirrel scurrying over a deep carpet of pine needles and cones. Is he hungry and searching for an acorn he buried last autumn? If he fails to remember the spot, a giant oak will stand here someday, she mused.
The thought electrified Silver Rain. Racing to the village, she gathered the older children and whispered instructions. They snatched up baskets and scattered throughout the forest. The children worked together until dark, returning many times with their baskets filled with small trees, shrubs, ferns, and wild flowers. The women joined their efforts, carefully placing wet balls of mud and moss around fragile roots before repacking them in large storage baskets.
Mourning Dove finally appeared at the door of her tepee and grasped Silver Rain’s wrist as the girl rushed by with a load of greenery. “Is something wrong? Why is there so much commotion? Have the men returned from their hunt?” she asked weakly.
“No, the braves have not yet returned, Grandmother, and there is no trouble,” Silver Rain said, smiling. “We are noisy and busy because tomorrow at dawn we will start to restore your lovely green valley! Many baskets of seeds and small saplings have been gathered. We shall spread out over the hills and plant them. In a few years a new forest will rise from the ashes of the one you remember—but only if I can find your secret entrance alone,” she said slyly, watching her grandmother’s startled face.
The girl’s dark eyes twinkled with mischief as she started on and then turned back. “It’s too bad you have no appetite, Grandmother,” she sighed. “Without food you will be too weak to ride in my canoe and guide me.”
Mourning Dove bristled. “Your tricks do not fool me, Silver Rain. However, I do feel a bit hungry now, I think. Fetch my supper and I will eat. Tomorrow I shall lead you back swiftly. Your fumbling search for the secret water path might cause the plants to wilt. And I shall plant seedlings along the banks of the pools and the lower slopes while you young ones cover the high ground.”
At dawn fifteen canoes left the campsite. Each looked like a tiny, green, floating island as they fell in line. Mourning Dove sat proudly in the bow of Silver Rain’s leading craft that was almost hidden by greenery. Her lap was filled with watercress, water hyacinths, and cattail reeds to restock the deep pool at the base of the waterfall where the speckled trout splashed.
The emptied canoes rode high in the water as they glided back in the light of a full moon. The braves had returned from a successful hunt and a feast had been prepared. The chief announced that tomorrow the tribe would leave this site and continue its trek to northern hunting grounds. Silver Rain felt a pang as she thought that it might be a year or more before they camped here again, a year before she could see how the green growth was spreading over the blackened land.
Mourning Dove stood at the water’s edge and gazed off toward her hidden valley. It was not likely that she would ever see it again, but it did not matter. The beauty would return slowly, perhaps in time for Silver Rain’s grandchildren to enjoy it. Nature would have mended the ravaged valley with the help of birds, squirrels and other small creatures, and with seeds wafted on the wind. But she and the children had sped up the process by many years. The thrill of such an accomplishment made her weariness fade away. To think that together they had restored a forest today!

The youth of the Tallahassee Third Ward, Tallahassee Florida Stake, organized a special Walk-a-Thon in an effort to raise money for the Cameron Paige leukemia fund. Little four-year-old Cameron and his family are members of the Tallahassee Second Ward.
The youth made arrangements for a safe route. The group made an early start to avoid the heat and set a brisk pace to avoid any early-morning traffic. At the end of the route, reporters were waiting to record their efforts.
The youth concluded their walk with a dip in a local spring and a picnic. As the group compared blisters or more serious reactions to the exercise, they were more sympathetic to the pain and discomfort that little Cameron experiences.

I have medical issues that have been really hard. I was born differently, without any way to use the bathroom. I have had three major surgeries and a few small ones.
Sometimes I wonder why I am like this, but thinking about God and His plan of salvation helps me remember that I am just as loved as everyone else. Having a testimony of the gospel is amazing, and I know I can depend on the Lord.
I love my body very much. I know I am truly a gift of light (which is what my name means). Even though I struggle, I know I can always ask God for help.
Illustration by Alyssa Johnson

My name is Bapont Ngalamulume, I live in Kananga, in central DR Congo; I wanted to share the story about my marriage. A few days after I returned from my full-time mission, I met with my bishop to tell him that I had to return to Kinshasa to pursue my education and to build my life. The post missionary integration challenges were bothering me day and night in every way. My bishop looked me in the eye and told me that it was important to stay in Kananga, my hometown, and to strengthen my family who had just joined the Church when I was on my mission. My stake leaders urged me to stay and edify the Church, and I made the decision to stay in the city and to further my education, to build my life and to serve in the Church. This was not easy for me. On the one hand I had my studies to complete, and on the other hand, I had to simultaneously provide for my younger brother’s education and help my mother who was a widow.

Two great blessings that I received and am grateful for all my life:
The first of these is the vocational training program run by the Church’s construction department, which helped me improve my carpentry skills. As a carpenter, I had the opportunity to work in missionary apartments and Church facilities, where I could render service and earn income from contractors.
The second is the perpetual education fund which allowed me to complete my undergraduate studies before being able to pay for graduate studies on my own.

When I was in junior high, I was honored by the school administration when I was asked to become a member of the student hall patrol. On the days we were assigned to be on hall patrol, we were instructed to bring our lunch to school and eat it together. It was always a special treat, and there was always a lot of competition to see whose mother had prepared the most desirable lunch. Often we traded lunch items among ourselves.
One day when I was assigned to be on hall patrol, I forgot to tell Mother that I needed a lunch until I was almost ready to leave for school. An expression of concern came over Mother’s face when I requested a lunch. She told me that she had just used up her last loaf of bread for breakfast and would not be baking until that afternoon. All she had in the house to make a lunch was a large sweet roll left over from the previous night’s supper. Mother made delicious sweet rolls. She always arranged them in a pan so there was one large one across the top of the pan and then rows of smaller ones down the length of the pan. Only the large one remained. It was about the size of a loaf of bread in length but, of course, not in thickness. I was embarrassed to take just a sweet roll for lunch when I imagined what the other patrol members would have, but I decided it was better to go with the sweet roll than go without lunch.
When it came time to eat lunch, I went to a far-off corner so I wouldn’t be noticed. When the trading of lunches started, my friends wanted to know what I had. I explained what had happened that morning, and to my dismay, everyone wanted to see the sweet roll. But my friends surprised me—instead of making fun of me, they all wanted to have a piece of the sweet roll! It turned out to be my best lunch trading day of the entire year! The sweet roll that I thought would be an embarrassment to me turned out to be the hit of our lunch hour.

When Carol Witt Christensen was called to serve as public affairs director for the Topeka Kansas Stake, she felt “fearful and inadequate” about having to interact with news reporters and editors on behalf of stake leaders.
“The thought of making cold contacts with news people was a little terrifying,” she recalls. And though she majored in English in college, she says that she “didn’t know anything about writing news releases.”
Despite her self-doubt, Sister Christensen decided to rely on her testimony, her familiarity with her community, and the belief that her calling came from inspired priesthood leaders. She says she started with training from the Public Affairs Department and began to “learn [her] duty, and to act in the office in which [she was] appointed, in all diligence” (D&C 107:99).
She began poring over the weekly religion section of her local newspaper to determine what was considered newsworthy. She called the religion writer to find out about deadlines before submitting her first news release.
“I noticed the types of small news items that were printed and began paying special attention at church to activities, interesting people, and accomplishments that seemed appropriate to announce in our newspaper,” she remembers.
Over time, Sister Christensen learned that media relations is much more than merely pitching story ideas. It’s also about knowing the media and helping reporters do their job while at the same time helping them come to understand the Church.
After a series of successes, including an article about her stake’s seminary program appearing in the local paper, she says she gained confidence and “felt on fire with a desire to bring forth the Church ‘out of obscurity’” (see D&C 1:30). Now, years later, Sister Christensen still serves as her stake public affairs director and says “that fire has continued to blaze.”

Before the performance, the idea of trying to fill the civic arts center’s 1,800 seats was a major worry. There had to be a small charge to cover the rental of the building and the technical crew that worked for the civic center. However, the ticket price was much less than the price of a movie ticket, and for many members of the community, particularly those on fixed incomes, it was the first chance they had to attend a great production at the new civic arts plaza. The low ticket price also made it possible for whole families to attend a show together. And that’s who came—by the hundreds.
The night of the first performance was a sellout. There were lots of backstage nerves, but lots of excitement too. “I’ll never forget waiting in line backstage,” said Jenny Orme, Thousand Oaks Fourth Ward, “getting ready to go on stage and having that feeling of delight. All during practices, the performance seemed so far away, but now it was here and everyone was ready to show the audience what we could do and what we had worked so hard for.”
The show was such a success that people clamored for another performance. However, the encore performance did not go so smoothly.
Just hours before the second performance was to go on, the power failed. Nothing is darker than the inside of a theater with no power. The cast gathered for prayer. Together they asked for a miracle.
Still no lights.
The cast, already in costume, gathered on the stage. The mood was glum. Then Tina Johnson walked over to her friend Danielle Smith and asked her if she wanted to sing “How Great Thou Art” with her. The two girls’ voices filled the dark and others joined in. As soon as they finished that hymn, another was started. A great feeling of warmth and comfort and peace came over the cast.
Still no lights. That night the show had to be canceled.
“It was a very spiritual experience,” said Kit Regas. “Even though we didn’t get to do the show, I think everyone gained from that.”
Brother Brimhall explained to the disappointed cast members that many times in the Church’s history people have prepared and worked on something good only to be forced to leave it behind and never enjoy the fruits of their labors. He explained that being engaged in a good cause is always beneficial. It was a hard lesson for some of the young people, but only when the disappointment had faded did they come to appreciate just how wonderful it felt to be praying and singing together on a dark stage.
The second and final performance of Showtime was rescheduled. This time the lights stayed on, stage fright was nearly gone, and the word had spread that this was a very good show. No one worried about empty seats anymore.
The cast had become more than friends; they were more like one big family. The natural barriers between the ages broke down. The teens became good friends with the adults. The adults had a new appreciation for the youth. Tina Johnson said, “I’ll be with my friends at the grocery store, and I’ll see someone from Showtime. We just start talking. My friends always ask, ‘How come you are friends with so many grownups?’”
“Showtime was a really great experience,” said Jessica Seemann, Moorpark First Ward. “I made a lot of new friends, and I became closer to my old friends. My family brought seven nonmembers to the show. They loved it. I am so glad I decided to be in Showtime.”
Why spend all the time and effort to put together such a big show? Emily Benton, 17, of the Moorpark First Ward, knows. “I loved it! I met so many new friends. I love doing things like that and spending time with good LDS people. It was a great missionary experience.”
Now back to Marshall. Did he ever learn to sing and dance? His choreographer, Kathi Orme, says, “His part was not easy. He worked very hard, and he got it.”
But Marshall is harder on himself. “I wish I could say that I’m a better singer and dancer now, but I am still terrible at both.” But there he was, up on stage, trying to smile and concentrate on his feet at the same time. He did great.

How can we develop a good attitude of cooperation? One wise stake president counseled priesthood and Relief Society leaders to determine their actions by asking, “What would the Savior do?” rather than “What has been done before?” With this idea in mind, ward leaders examined their “policies” in working together. Several ward “traditions” came under examination—the first, when the ward budget was presented for approval to the men in priesthood meeting, but not to the women in Relief Society.
“Would the Savior do that?” priesthood leaders wondered. They decided that he wouldn’t, and then they consulted the General Handbook of Instructions, which indicates that proposed budgets should be discussed with all ward members in a special meeting. That tradition was changed, and the sisters in the ward are much more supportive of ward activities now that they are included in the planning.

For a long time something else puzzled me. Forty-six years ago I was a 37-year-old seminary supervisor. My Church calling was as an assistant teacher in a class in the Lindon Ward.

To my great surprise I was called to meet with President David O. McKay. He took both of my hands in his and called me to be one of the General Authorities, an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.

A few days later I came to Salt Lake City to meet with the First Presidency to be set apart as one of the General Authorities of the Church. This was the first time I had met with the First Presidency—President David O. McKay and his counselors, President Hugh B. Brown and President Henry D. Moyle.

President McKay explained that one of the responsibilities of an Assistant to the Twelve was to stand with the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles as a special witness and to bear testimony that Jesus is the Christ. What he said next overwhelmed me: “Before we proceed to set you apart, I ask you to bear your testimony to us. We want to know if you have that witness.”

I did the best I could. I bore my testimony the same as I might have in a fast and testimony meeting in my ward. To my surprise, the Brethren of the Presidency seemed pleased and proceeded to confer the office upon me.

That puzzled me greatly, for I had supposed that someone called to such an office would have an unusual, different, and greatly enlarged testimony and spiritual power.

It puzzled me for a long time until finally I could see that I already had what was required: an abiding testimony in my heart of the Restoration of the fulness of the gospel through the Prophet Joseph Smith, that we have a Heavenly Father, and that Jesus Christ is our Redeemer. I may not have known all about it, but I did have a testimony, and I was willing to learn.

I was perhaps no different from those spoken of in the Book of Mormon: “And whoso cometh unto me with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, him will I baptize with fire and with the Holy Ghost, even as the Lamanites, because of their faith in me at the time of their conversion, were baptized with fire and with the Holy Ghost, and they knew it not” (3 Nephi 9:20; emphasis added).

“I need to tell you something, Mom,” Melissa said, looking at the floor. She took a deep breath and started to cry.
“My teacher is really mad because someone wrote on the bathroom wall,” Melissa said. “I know I shouldn’t have done it, but someone else started writing and I thought it was funny, so I did too. I feel so bad inside. What can I do?”
Mom gave Melissa a hug and pointed to a picture on the shelf. It was taken on the day Melissa was baptized. “Do remember what Uncle Brett talked about at your baptism?”
Sniffling, Melissa nodded. “That the Holy Ghost can help us know what is right and wrong,” she said. “He said if I did something wrong I would get a bad feeling. Is this what he was talking about?”
“Yes,” Mom said. “What else did he say?”
Melissa thought for a moment. “When we mess up we can repent by asking for forgiveness and fixing what we did wrong,” she said. “And promising to never do it again.”
As Melissa said those words, she knew what she needed to do.
Before the school bell rang the next morning, Melissa was at her teacher’s desk.
“Mrs. O’Dell, I wrote on the bathroom wall,” Melissa said, her heart pounding. “I’m really sorry, and I will clean it up.”
Mrs. O’Dell looked at Melissa for a moment. “You’ll have to stay after school to clean it,” she said. “And you need to tell your mother what you have done.”
“I know, I already told her. I promise to never do anything like this again,” Melissa said.
Melissa smiled as she walked to her desk. The bad feeling she had yesterday was gone.

Mission preparation should definitely include learning about the gospel, but you don’t have to know everything before you go. For example, as a young man, Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles was worried he wasn’t prepared to serve a mission. He said, “I remember praying, ‘Heavenly Father, how can I serve a mission when I know so little?’ I believed in the Church, but I felt my spiritual knowledge was very limited. As I prayed, the feeling came: ‘You don’t know everything, but you know enough!’”1

Lindsay raced downstairs when she heard Dad call her name.
Lately they had been doing a lot of family history work together. Dad would help her log on to the FamilySearch website, and together they’d look for family pictures and stories. Just the other day she’d found a really old document about Grandpa on his mission!
Lindsay reached the bottom of the stairs where Dad was waiting. “Are we doing family history tonight?” she asked.
“Yup, and I have a surprise for you,” Dad said with a smile. He handed her a long, rolled-up paper he’d held behind his back. Lindsay carefully unrolled it. She stared at the large fan shape on the page. There was her name at the bottom! Lots and lots of other names spread out in neat rows around hers.
“That’s you and Mom,” Lindsay said, pointing to the names closest to hers. “And there’s Grandma and Grandpa!”
“That’s right,” Dad said. “This fan chart shows the names of your ancestors for nine generations.”
There were so many names. But some of the spots were empty. Lindsay wondered about the missing names. “It looks like the puzzles I used to do with Grandpa,” she said. Grandpa had died a few years ago, and Lindsay really missed him.
Dad nodded. “It is like a puzzle. A very important puzzle. And every family member is like a puzzle piece.”
Lindsay almost laughed when she imagined Grandma shaped like a puzzle piece.
“When we find a person’s name and do their temple work, we link them to the rest of the family—like joining puzzle pieces together. You’re helping build this puzzle.”
“Wow.” Lindsay brushed her fingers over the names. She knew family history was important, but now she was even more excited to help. All of her family could be linked together forever!
Lindsay taped her new chart to the ceiling right above her bunk bed. She loved to stare at the chart and study all the names. She imagined everyone holding each other’s hands, linked together like puzzle pieces. She felt happy. This was the biggest puzzle she had ever seen!
One night Lindsay couldn’t sleep. Her bedroom was really dark. The tiny night-light made scary-looking shadows on the walls. She pulled her blanket up over her head and squeezed her eyes shut.
After a little while she peeked out above the blanket and saw the chart. She read her name. Then she read Mom and Dad’s names. When she got to Grandpa’s name, she felt warm and peaceful.
She remembered how Grandpa smiled at her when they did puzzles together. When I help Dad do family history, I’m linking our family together! she thought. She imagined Grandpa smiling even bigger about that. She didn’t feel scared at all anymore. She smiled and snuggled into her blanket and fell asleep dreaming of people and puzzles and connecting her family together.

“OK, Jason,” Mom said as she tucked him into bed. “You’ve been extra quiet tonight. Is anything wrong?”
Jason looked up at her. “It’s about school,” he said. “I just wish recess was different.”
“Have you made any new friends?” Mom asked.
Their family had just moved, and Jason was finally starting to feel comfortable in his new third-grade class.
“A few,” he said. “But it’s the playground helper. She’s grouchy all the time! And some of the kids say mean things about her.”
“What do you think about that?” Mom said.
“Well, I don’t think she’s nice, but I also don’t like it when the kids talk like that about her,” Jason said. “It makes me feel bad inside, even when she doesn’t hear them.”
“Jason, do you remember how the Holy Ghost speaks to you?” Mom said.
Jason tapped his heart.
“That’s right,” Mom said. “He talks to you through feelings and thoughts.”
Jason loved the peaceful feeling of the Holy Ghost. But when the kids were mean to the playground helper, he didn’t feel peaceful at all.
“But the Holy Ghost makes me feel good,” he said.
Mom nodded. “That’s right, but He also tells us when something isn’t right, or when we need to fix something. When you feel bad or uncomfortable inside, it could be the Holy Ghost telling you that something is wrong and you need to do the right thing.” She smoothed his hair. “What do you think is the right thing to do?”
“Well, I know Jesus wants us to be kind to everyone,” Jason said thoughtfully. “I guess that means playground helpers too.”
“Yes, it does!” Mom said. “We are all children of Heavenly Father, so we should treat everyone nicely.”
“Well, what can I do?” Jason said, frowning. “If she wasn’t so grumpy, maybe everyone would be nicer to her.”
“We don’t always know why people act a certain way,” Mom said. “We don’t know what’s going on in her life. Maybe she’s doing the best she can.”
Jason thought about when they had first moved here. Everything was so different from his old home. He had tried not to show it, but at first he had been scared and sad. Maybe the playground helper felt that way too.
“But if I don’t know why she’s feeling bad, how can I help?” Jason asked.
“We don’t always have to know what’s wrong to cheer someone up,” Mom said.
Jason thought about what cheered him up. “I know! Can we make her some chocolate-chip cookies?”
Mom smiled. “That’s a great idea.”
Jason was getting excited. “And maybe we can make some extra cookies to give to the kids at recess too!” he said. “I could share cookies with everyone and talk about how we can brighten her day even more!”
“Even better,” Mom said. “I sure am proud of you, Jason.”
Jason smiled. He was glad he had the Holy Ghost to remind him to treat others like Jesus would treat them. Recess was going to get a whole lot sweeter.

I will never forget the day decades ago when I was sitting in early-morning seminary in Michigan. My teacher was talking about the mission to the Zoramites in the Book of Mormon. All of a sudden, he jumped up on the table and began to read in a loud voice the Rameumptom prayer. That woke us all up! It has been many years, but that is seared in my memory. A group of teenagers were profoundly impacted by a teacher who was role-playing.