Gospel Story Finder

The troops gathered early on a spring morning, just as the sun was breaking over the Montana hills. Mostly young men, they came in small clusters at first, a patrol here, another there, marshaling in the city park until their ranks were full. The ribbons and badges on their uniforms caught the fire of the dawning light.
You could tell by looking in their eyes that this was serious business. They came prepared for action, dressed in orange vests and hunting caps, wearing leather gloves. And they came heavily armed.
With trash bags.
For these were Scout troops, joined by Cub Scouts, some Girl Scouts, and a few other service groups. And their battle was an all-out war against litter.
This gathering of 289 in Missoula and others like it throughout the state would form an army of 7, 000. Dispersed in groups of four youth and two leaders per mile, they would clean Highway 93 from the Canadian border to Idaho. They would spruce up parts of Interstate 15. And working west from the North Dakota border, they would tidy significant stretches of Highway 2, Interstates 90 and 94, Highway 87, and other major thoroughfares.
By midday they would collect more than three million pounds of trash, including 2,000 pounds of recyclable glass and thousands of recyclable aluminum cans.
And they’d be home in time for lunch.

Michael Molling, 12, from Orem, Utah, was selected to be the young Vincenzo. For Michael, being cast was a pleasant surprise. He and a friend had been handed a flyer in the local shopping mall. He went to the studio, filled out a card with his name and address, and had his picture taken. He was called to come back for another picture-taking session, then received a phone call telling him he had the part.

“They called and said I got the part,” Michael explains. “After I hung up I ran and did somersaults and jumped all over the couch. I was happy.”

For his scenes, Michael had to learn to quote scripture in Italian. And he had to learn to put up with makeup and old-fashioned shoes several sizes too big as part of his costume. “The hardest thing,” says Michael, “was memorizing the words. When I would start to talk, I would start moving my knees, and the director would have to tell me to not move my knees. I didn’t even know I was doing it.”

One of Michael’s scenes is in a schoolroom with other boys his age. These boys are extras, called in to dress in costume and fill up the rest of the desks in the background. Erika Anderson, 18, is working as extras’ coordinator for the film, and it is her job to see that the boys are where they should be when they should be. Erika is rather young to have such an important position, but she’s been working in films for several years. Her father, David, is a film distributor and producer, and Erika has had a chance to work in different ways on films since she was 10.

“The first thing I ever did,” says Erika, “was be an extra. Then I worked on a commercial shoot in New York. I was a production assistant. My dad was in charge, and I helped run errands and time the shots.” Erika was recommended for the BYU film job, and Peter Johnson, the producer of the film and director of the Motion Picture Studio has been pleased with her work. “She shows such integrity in her work. She’s always there, always on time. We give her instructions, and she does what we ask. We never have to follow up with her.”

Erika has learned a lot about the importance of doing a good job. “What I’ve known all along is whenever a job is given to me, I have to get it done because someone is expecting me to do it. If you don’t hold your end up, everything can fall apart. I learned that at 13, so I’ve been practicing for a while.”

As extras’ coordinator, Erika describes her job this way, “When there are kids, I’m in charge of the kids. When there are adults, I’m in charge of telling them where to go and getting them all there and getting them committed to do it. It’s really hard, but it’s rewarding to see it all come together.”

Erika’s first thoughts after being told that they needed 250 extras for the scene in the marketplace outside the temple at Bountiful was, “Where am I going to find 250 extras on a Tuesday?”

Erika and her supervisor, Kathy Bessinger, casting director, did find them. They sent the call out to wards in Salt Lake and Orem areas. Then buses were arranged, lunch and dinner ordered for the crowd, and makeup and wardrobe people alerted. On this Tuesday, they had the crowd of extras they needed to shoot the scene.

Russ Holt, the director and screenwriter, explains how the project was initiated. “It started with President Benson’s call to the membership of the Church to increase their study of, interest in, and use of the Book of Mormon. It really originated with that.”

As the director, Russ has worked with a group of professionals that have translated the script into beautifully photographed scenes on film. Russ explains, “There are times when as a scriptwriter you envision this scene, and when it finally gets on film, it surprises you because it’s better than you imagined. Take the scene at the dock at Palermo, Italy. I thought we were going to do a simple little scene, but the art director, the cameraman, and others had a concept of what that could become, and they turned that scene into something gorgeous.”

Making the film has been a huge undertaking, lots of hard work and long hours. Because a film is produced in bits and pieces and then put together in the editing room, the actual day-to-day work is often not highly charged emotionally. Peter Johnson, the producer, explains, “We are magicians in the film business. The process that you see is not glamorous, and it’s not that emotional. When it’s all put together, then it reaches you.”

In this age of video, Peter also explains that seeing a movie about the Book of Mormon in no way replaces the experience of actually reading it for yourself. “You cannot replace through watching television or motion picture the actual one-on-one experience that you have with the Lord when you are reading scripture. That cannot be duplicated. I hope that the work that we do stimulates people to have a desire for that personal experience like Parley P. Pratt and Vincenzo Di Francesca had with the Book of Mormon.”

Tuesday, June 8, 1982, dawned bright and clear in London, England. It was destined to be an historic day. A spirit of excitement permeated the very air and filled expectant hearts with keen anticipation. The President of the United States of America had arrived in Great Britain and soon would be addressing Parliament. Crowds gathered for the occasion, filled the streets and overflowed the nearby park. Uniformed policemen maintained order while famous Big Ben chimed its proud and clarion call which marked the appointed hour.
My wife, Frances, and I stood midst the milling crowd. Then, suddenly, Parliament’s doors swung open, the Prime Minister and the President greeted the throng, entered their limousines, and the motorcade drove slowly away. The crowd gave a mighty cheer, then began to disperse. Frances and I walked from the sunbathed street into the semi-dark, yet welcome, refuge of Westminster Abbey.
A reverence filled this world-famous edifice, as it should. For here, kings are crowned, royalty wedded, and rulers, whose mission of mortality has ended, are honored then buried. We walked along the aisleways, thoughtfully reading the inscriptions which marked the tombs of the famous. We remembered their achievements, recalled their deeds of valor, and marked their well-earned places in the world’s history. Then we paused before the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, one of many who fell in France during the Great War. From an unmarked grave, the body of this fallen youth had been brought to London to forever lie in honor. I read aloud the inscriptions: “They buried him among the kings because he had done good toward God and toward His house.” “In Christ shall all be made alive.”
Toward the doorway we walked. Still visible in the park beyond were the remnants of the crowd. The immortal words of Rudyard Kipling coursed through my mind and spoke to my soul:
The tumult and the shouting dies,
The captains and the kings depart;
Still stands thine ancient sacrifice:
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget, lest we forget.
(“Recessional”; see also Hymns, no. 77.)
One final marker to see, one more inscription to read. As a Scouter, I had come from America to view the plaque of honor dedicated to the memory of Scouting’s founder, Lord Baden-Powell. We stood before the magnificent marble memorial and noted the words:
Robert Baden-Powell, 1857–1941
Founder of the Boy Scouts
Friend of all the World
On that day during this year which commemorates the 75th anniversary of Scouting and the 125th anniversary of its founder, I pondered the thought, “How many boys have had their lives blessed—even saved—by the Scout movement begun by Baden-Powell?” Unlike others memorialized within the walls of Westminster Abbey, Baden-Powell had neither sailed the stormy seas of glory, conquered in conflict the armies of men, nor founded empires of worldly wealth. Rather, he was a builder of boys, one who taught them well how to run and win the race of life.

Some months ago I visited a sacrament meeting in another ward. It was a missionary farewell for a friend of mine. After a few words of greeting and the opening song and prayer, the bishop attended to some ward business. Then, looking out across the audience as though there was only one of his flock he cared for at that moment, he asked, “Chad, are you here?”
Immediately the sound of a folding chair knocking noisily against another could be heard. A young boy a few rows ahead of me made his way awkwardly into the aisle. As he turned to maneuver past the chairs, I observed that his facial features showed some abnormality. It appeared that he may not have the same mental abilities as other young people his age. He was facing life with obvious handicaps, or so it seemed.
I watched with others as this young man, with great enthusiasm, literally ran in his awkward way, making his short legs move as fast as possible from the back where he was sitting, up the full length of the chapel.
As the bishop put his protective arm around Chad and drew him close for only a moment, the two looked at each other as though it were a private exchange only they understood. With Chad nestled securely in the fold of his arm, the bishop announced with pride to the audience, “Chad has earned his Duty to God Award. He has qualified in every way.” Then, glancing down at the young man, he said with deep feeling, “We’re all proud of you, Chad.”
Following the presentation there was the usual handshake and an additional warm and sustained embrace. As Chad turned to leave, he broke with tradition and raised his hand high in the air. The bishop understood the signal and responded to Chad’s invitation by raising his hand to meet Chad’s, giving a resounding clap in the air. Outside the meeting he would likely have added the words, “Give ’em five.”
Chad then turned from the bishop, but before leaving the stand moved enthusiastically toward the chorister, who stood and wrapped him in his arms. I learned later that the man was his father.
The young boy then left the podium, making his way down the aisle wearing a broad smile with his arm raised high in the air as if to “give “’em five” to every ward member who had helped him along and now shared in his victory.
It has been months since that memorable Sunday, but in my mind I keep replaying that scene over and over again. What struggles and challenges preceded that day for Chad? Were there times when he might have wanted to give up? Certainly some of the requirements must have been harder for him than they were for others his age. Were there times of discouragement and maybe disappointment? He was smiling when the bishop called him forward to receive his Duty to God Award, but there must have been many times when even duty to God was difficult. I wonder if there were times when Chad, in the privacy of his own heart, asked the Father why—why does it have to be so hard; it doesn’t seem fair. And while he waited for the answer, he kept going.

One night I was sitting at home thinking about what I was going to do about a specific friend. She was getting involved with the wrong kind of people. I didn’t want to get the reputation she was getting, but I still wanted her good friendship.
That’s when I picked up the January issue of the New Era. I read the Questions and Answers section that talked about having rowdy friends. It said that I should be an example to her.
I really needed that article. It came at the perfect time. Now I know that with the help of that article, and the help of my Heavenly Father, I can better help my friend. Thank you so much.
UnsignedFruit Heights, Utah

I was a young bishop when I began to see clearly why the Lord wants us to strengthen children when they are young and rescue them quickly. I will tell you one story of a young person who represents many whom I have tried to help over the years.
She sat across from me at my bishop’s desk. She spoke to me of her life. She had been baptized and confirmed as a member of the Church when she was eight. There were no tears in her eyes as she recounted the more than 20 years that followed, but there was sadness in her voice. She said that the downward spiral began with choices to associate with what she thought were exciting people. She began to violate what at first seemed to be less important commandments.
She felt at first a little sadness and a twinge of guilt. But the associations with her friends provided a new feeling of being liked, and so her occasional resolutions to repent seemed less and less important. As the gravity of the commandments she was breaking increased, the dream of a happy eternal home seemed to fade.
She sat across from me in what she called misery. She wanted me to rescue her from the trap of sin in which she found herself bound. But the only way out was for her to exercise faith in Jesus Christ, to have a broken heart, to repent, and so be cleansed, changed, and strengthened through the Lord’s Atonement. I bore my testimony to her that it was still possible. And it was, but so much harder than it would have been to exercise faith early in her life on the journey home to God and when she first began to wander.

When Bennett was ten and Kevin 13, they decided there were better things to do after school than just play driveway basketball, so one day they took a two-mile hike up a nearby mountain. That tiny crack in their routine broke the dam wide open, and since then they’ve hiked thousands of miles. Almost every day finds them out-of-doors, and they’ve climbed every mountain in the area many times over. Their compulsion to be up and doing has carried them into rock climbing, snow climbing, hiking, camping (including snow cave and igloo camping), fishing, hunting, spelunking, ice climbing, outdoor photography, cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, fossil hunting, and other miscellaneous adventures hard to classify. On, over, around, under, in, among, through—it’s hard to think of a preposition they haven’t tried out on a mountain.

I know from experience the troubled mind of such a young person. When I was preparing to go on my mission, some surprising forces tried to discourage me. One was my dentist. When he realized my appointment was so I could be a missionary, he tried to dissuade me from serving. I had not had the least notion that my dentist was against the Church.

The interruption of my education was also complicated. When I asked for a two-year leave of absence from my university program, I was informed that it was not possible. I would lose my place at the university if I did not return after one year. In Brazil, this was serious since the only criterion for admittance in a university program was a very difficult and competitive examination.

After repeatedly insisting, I was reluctantly informed that after being absent for one year, I could apply for an exception on extraordinary grounds. It might be approved or not. I was terrified at the idea of retaking that difficult admissions test after two years away from my studies.

I also was especially interested in a young woman. Several of my friends shared that same interest. I thought to myself, “If I go on a mission, I’m running a risk.”

But the Lord Jesus Christ was my great inspiration not to be afraid of the future as I strove to serve Him with all my heart.

Remember the challenges that I thought I faced prior to my mission? My dentist? I found another. My university? They made an exception for me. Remember that young woman? She married one of my good friends.

But God truly blessed me richly. And I learned that the blessings of the Lord can come in ways different from how we expect. After all, His thoughts are not our thoughts (see Isaiah 55:8–9).

Sacred music has tremendous power to help us learn and live gospel principles. A sister was asked to talk to some youth in a seminary class about Church music. Her first question to the youth was, “What were some of the lessons you were taught in Primary?” There was no response. Then she asked the students if they could remember any Primary songs. Many hands were raised, and the youth shared countless song titles. The sister wrote gospel principles on the chalkboard, and Primary songs and hymns were listed under each principle. Those young people quickly understood that music teaches the principles of the gospel, and songs and hymns—and the messages they teach—are remembered for years.

I would like to tell you about an experience that happened to my companion and I while we were reading the Church magazines. We had just come home for lunch and placed some rice on the stove to cook. Then we each grabbed a Church magazine and started reading. We became so involved in the reading that we forgot about lunch. It was still on the stove, burning itself black. The funny part about it was that my companion was sitting about three feet away from the stove in a smoke-filled room that smelled of burnt rice, yet he didn’t realize anything was burning for a long while. (The rice was burnt so badly that we considered throwing the pot away instead of cleaning it.)
This little incident showed us how much we can enjoy the reading of Church magazines. They are filled with choice spiritual articles that help us to grow. We would like to take this opportunity to let you know how much the New Era means to us.
Elders Mit and GoisisiAustralia Brisbane Mission

Because you are a first-generation member, each choice you make is important. Seemingly small, insignificant decisions will impact past and future generations, as well as your own life. One young first-generation member, Chris, was offered a drink of alcohol at work the day after his baptism. His friends were all there and were drinking. There was considerable pressure. No one else knew that the day before, he had been baptized and made promises to the Lord. He made the decision not to drink and was treated poorly. Reflecting on that event later, he wrote: “It is now forty years since I made those [baptismal] promises and I can truthfully say that I have … kept the Word of Wisdom. … I believe if I had accepted [that] drink that I would, perhaps, never have been able to keep the Word of Wisdom.”

But Chris kept his baptismal promises. Later he met and married a faithful member. Together they raised eight children in the gospel. Now in the sixth generation, his faithful descendants number in the hundreds. Dozens have served missions and introduced the gospel to others. His efforts in family history opened the blessings of the gospel to hundreds more. One small decision by a first-generation member made a difference for thousands.

Healed the captain’s steward on a journey back to North America.

When Elder Snow left England to return to Nauvoo, Illinois, he brought a large group of newly baptized members with him. They all booked passage on the ship Swanton and prepared for the long journey to North America.

Although the captain of the Swanton was not unkind to the Latter-day Saints on his ship, he wasn’t exactly friendly either. He usually distanced himself from them. But after about two weeks at sea, something happened. The captain’s steward was badly injured in an accident. No one expected the steward to live through the night.

But one of the faithful sisters who had been attending to the dying sailor had a suggestion. She told the steward that Elder Lorenzo Snow could give him a blessing and that it might save his life. The steward—who was working to support his wife and two children back in Germany—eagerly agreed.

In the middle of the night, Elder Snow was awakened and asked to come to the dying man’s room. When he arrived, he met the captain of the ship. The captain thanked him for coming but expressed the hopelessness of the situation. Elder Snow could see that the captain had been crying.

He went into the room, laid his hands upon the steward’s head, and gave him a priesthood blessing. Immediately after Elder Snow finished the blessing, the man sat up and got out of bed. The steward was completely healed, and he returned to his duties the next day.

The healing of the steward changed things on board the Swanton. The captain began to spend as much time with the Saints as he could spare, and he even studied the gospel and attended Church meetings. The other sailors were just as impressed. When the ship reached its destination, the crew lovingly bid the Saints farewell. Through the power of the priesthood, not only was a man’s life saved, but several others were also given a glimpse of God’s power and love. The steward and many members of the crew were eventually baptized.

I would like to focus on the first trait that describes them: “valiant for courage.” To me, this describes the conviction of these young men to courageously do what is right, or as Alma describes, “to stand as witnesses of God at all times … and in all places.” The 2,000 stripling soldiers had countless moments to demonstrate their courage. Each of you will also have defining moments in your life requiring courage. A friend of mine, John, shared with me one of those moments in his life.
Some years ago, John was accepted at a prestigious Japanese university. He would be part of the international student program with many other top students from around the world. Some enrolled with a hope to deepen their understanding of the culture and language, others viewed it as a stepping-stone to an eventual profession and employment in Japan, but all had left home to study in a foreign country.
Soon after John’s arrival, word of a party to be held on the rooftop of a private residence spread among the foreign student population. That evening, John and two friends made their way to the advertised address.
Following an elevator ride to the top floor of the building, John and his friends navigated the single narrow stairway leading to the rooftop and began mingling with the others. As the night wore on, the atmosphere changed. The noise, music volume, and alcohol amplified, as did John’s uneasiness. Then suddenly someone began organizing the students into a large circle with the intent of sharing marijuana cigarettes. John grimaced and quickly informed his two friends that it was time to leave. Almost in ridicule, one of them replied, “John, this is easy—we’ll just stand in the circle, and when it is our turn, we’ll just pass it along rather than smoke it. That way we won’t have to embarrass ourselves in front of everyone by leaving.” This sounded easy to John, but it did not sound right. He knew he had to announce his intention and act. In a moment he mustered his courage and told them that they could do as they wished, but he was leaving. One friend decided to stay and joined the circle; the other reluctantly followed John down the stairs to board the elevator. Much to their surprise, when the elevator doors opened, Japanese police officers poured out and hurried to ascend the stairs to the rooftop. John and his friend boarded the elevator and departed.
When the police appeared at the top of the stairs, the students quickly threw the illegal drugs off the roof so they wouldn’t be caught. After securing the stairway, however, the officers lined up everyone on the roof and asked each student to extend both hands. The officers then walked down the line, carefully smelling each student’s thumbs and index fingers. All who had held the marijuana, whether they had smoked it or not, were presumed guilty, and there were huge consequences. Almost without exception, the students who had remained on the rooftop were expelled from their respective universities, and those convicted of a crime were likely deported from Japan. Dreams of an education, years of preparation, and the possibility of future employment in Japan were dashed in a moment.
Now let me tell you what happened to these three friends. The friend who stayed on the roof was expelled from the university in Japan to which he had worked so hard to be accepted and was required to return home. The friend who left the party that night with John finished school in Japan and went on to earn degrees from two top-tier universities in the United States. His career took him back to Asia, where he has enjoyed immense professional success. He remains grateful to this day for John’s courageous example. As for John, the consequences in his life have been immeasurable. His time in Japan that year led him to a happy marriage and the subsequent birth of two sons. He has been a very successful businessman and recently became a professor at a Japanese university. Imagine how different his life would have been had he not had the courage to leave the party on that important evening in Japan.

That testimony and the knowledge that prayers are heard and answered helped Vincent on another day. His brother Gaetan (13) wanted to go out into the backyard. He thought that the plate-glass back door was open, and ran through it, shattering the glass. The broken glass severely cut the nerves and arteries in both his arms. His sisters Sandra (19) and Sonia (17) were home. They quickly called for an ambulance and put pressure on Gaetan’s arteries to slow the bleeding.
Just then Vincent, Sophie (9), and Samantha (5) walked into the house. When they saw all the blood and broken glass, they were scared and started to cry. Vincent realized that his older sisters were doing all that could be done for Gaetan, so he led Sophie and Samantha upstairs and out of the way. “We were afraid that Gaetan would die,” Vincent said, “so we huddled together and prayed for him. After the prayer, we all felt much better, and I knew that everything would be OK.”
The ambulance and Sister Poulaert soon arrived. Gaetan was rushed to the hospital. Brother Poulaert was there and gave his son a priesthood blessing, after which Gaetan felt much better. After four hours of microsurgery to repair the nerves and arteries in his arms and hands and four days in the hospital, Gaetan was able to go home.
Vincent Poulaert and his family have learned that just as the Savior called on His Father for strength in difficult times, they can, too. They know and are grateful that Heavenly Father hears and answers their prayers.

It’s Tuesday night in Nashua. Sixty teachers and their spouses begin arriving at the appreciation night. They’re talking with their students, and the youth are relaxing.
I stop 14-year-old Cyndie Munk and ask her how it’s going. Three or four of her teachers are already here. “The teachers are just so impressed that we want to honor them,” she says, grinning. She sees her vice principal walk in and waves in his direction. “He never gets to do anything,” she tells me. “I gave him his invitation and told him what it was for and he absolutely beamed. Every time I saw him around school he just started smiling, asking if he was still supposed to come.”
The teachers are filing out and Cyndie sums up the Nashua evening for me. “My teachers said they’ve never had anyone do anything like this for them,” she says. “But I think they work hard. They give up a lot of their own time for us. I think they deserved this.”

The wagon of Joseph Stanford Smith was the last of 26 wagons to pass through Hole-in-the-Rock that day. Brother Smith, known as Stanford, had helped others all day while his wife and three children sat on a pile of quilts in the snow and watched. Apparently not realizing that men would be coming to help them, Stanford and his wife, Belle, thought they were stranded. So they determined to bring their wagon down by themselves. Belle sat their three-year-old son on the quilts, placed the baby between his legs, and told them not to move until their father came back for them. Ada, the oldest, sat in front of her brothers and said a prayer.
Belle and one of the horses pulled on the ropes tied to the back of the wagon as Stanford braced his legs against the dashboard and gently urged the lead horses on. As soon as they started down, the anchor horse fell. Belle caught her foot in the rocks and broke free several times before she too fell and was dragged along with the horse down the steep slope. By the time the wagon stopped, a jagged rock had torn into Belle’s leg from heel to hip. Stanford ran to her to see if she was all right. With pioneer tenacity, Belle told him she had “crow-hopped” all the way down. Stanford helped her into the wagon, cleaned her cut, and then climbed back up for the children. As he passed his horse, which was dazed but alive, Stanford took off his hat and waved it in the air as a salute to his wife. They had made it!

My commitment to evening prayers has always been there but I struggled to gain the habit of consistently saying my morning prayers. During my mission and college days, I always said morning prayers, but during my thirties with so many pressures and responsibilities, I often forgot to say morning prayers. We always had morning and evening family prayers but so often I would get up quickly, get ready for work, have family scripture reading and family prayer and forget my morning prayers. But a mighty change came in 1981 through an experience in a Stake Presidency meeting as our President told us of an interview he had had with a good brother and how he had asked him if he was faithful in saying his evening and morning prayers. As he related that story it came with great force into my heart. I needed to repent. So in mighty prayer I made a covenant with God that I would from that time forward say my morning prayers. I have kept that covenant. I cannot tell you all the blessings that have come from consistent morning prayers.

Fifth, whatever the cost of repentance, it is swallowed up in the joy of forgiveness. In a general conference address entitled “The Brilliant Morning of Forgiveness,” President Boyd K. Packer provided this analogy:
“In April of 1847, Brigham Young led the first company of pioneers out of Winter Quarters. At that same time, 1,600 miles [2,575 km] to the west the pathetic survivors of the Donner Party straggled down the slopes of the Sierra Nevada Mountains into the Sacramento Valley.
“They had spent the ferocious winter trapped in the snowdrifts below the summit. That any survived the days and weeks and months of starvation and indescribable suffering is almost beyond belief.
“Among them was fifteen-year-old John Breen. On the night of April 24 he walked into Johnson’s Ranch. Years later John wrote:
“‘It was long after dark when we got to Johnson’s Ranch, so the first time I saw it was early in the morning. The weather was fine, the ground was covered with green grass, the birds were singing from the tops of the trees, and the journey was over. I could scarcely believe that I was alive.
“‘The scene that I saw that morning seems to be photographed on my mind. Most of the incidents are gone from memory, but I can always see the camp near Johnson’s Ranch.’”
Said President Packer: “At first I was very puzzled by his statement that ‘most of the incidents are gone from memory.’ How could long months of incredible suffering and sorrow ever be gone from his mind? How could that brutal dark winter be replaced with one brilliant morning?
“On further reflection I decided it was not puzzling at all. I have seen something similar happen to people I have known. I have seen some who have spent a long winter of guilt and spiritual starvation emerge into the morning of forgiveness. When morning came, they learned this:
“‘Behold, he who has repented of his sins, the same is forgiven, and I, the Lord, remember them no more’ [D&C 58:42].”4

One of the first lessons elders and sisters learn at the England MTC might surprise you. The mission president’s wife, Sister Carol Sperry, talks about peeling oranges.

“It’s a lesson I learned from my father-in-law,” she says. “When my husband and I were first engaged, he wanted to get better acquainted with me. ‘Let’s go peel an orange together,’ he said.” It wasn’t the orange that was important, it was the time spent listening to each other. It became a tradition in the Sperry household, and now it’s a tradition at the MTC.

“I talk about getting along with companions,” Sister Sperry says. “I tell them sometimes you need to work out your concerns. Peeling an orange together is a way of saying I care, I want to know what you’re feeling.”

It’s also a principle that works with investigators. “Of course you want to teach them, and the discussions present the gospel in an orderly way,” Sister Sperry advises. “But there are times when you need to just peel an orange together, too.”

The lesson is well remembered. “I receive lots of letters saying, ‘I’m still peeling oranges,’” Sister Sperry notes.

I first started fasting after my 11th birthday. My mum and dad had given me a brief explanation of it and how we do not eat our meals and then pay the Lord the equivalent of the food we did not eat, plus a generous offering. At first, I was confused. Why should I resist the temptation when I could just sneak to the kitchen and grab some cookies? At long last, I told my parents that I couldn’t go on. They agreed and said I could break my short, two-hour fast.
I began preparing for the next fast. Reading scriptures like Alma 5:46 and Helaman 3:35 really helped. During my second fast, I was able to bear missing up to two meals. When I felt the temptation, I resisted it by thinking of my Father above and how He sacrificed His Son for us. I reminded myself that I was showing my gratitude to Him by sacrificing, too. Fasting built a stronger and more sure testimony for me. I was confident enough to stand at the pulpit, and bear my testimony. I learnt how to be humble, strong, faithful, and diligent. Fasting definitely helped me in my school and social life, making me aware of the world and Satan.
Now I have grown to love fasting, which helps me so much in my life. I love bearing my testimony on fast Sunday. The feeling is wonderful, and the Spirit is with me. I didn’t starve—I fasted.