Gospel Story Finder

Shortly after my baptism, the branch president called me and said, “Sister Gamanga, the Spirit has directed me to call you to be the Relief Society president.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said. “I don’t know how to read, I don’t know how to write, and you want to call me? What is the meaning of that?”

He explained that I would invite the women to church, talk to them, and help them. “With God, I can do it,” I said.

Since that day, so many things have happened in my life. I started reading only two-letter words, then three-letter words. I then moved from three-letter words to four-letter words, then five to six-letter words. This has helped me teach in Relief Society.

If there is something I don’t understand, I ask for help. My problem is spelling. I don’t know how to pronounce some spellings, but I get help so I can understand. When I’m teaching, I ask one of the Relief Society sisters to help with any words I don’t know. That is the way I teach in class. Each time I ask for help, I learn more.

Mary’s boy Joseph was born at a time when her husband was snatched away by the mob militia then terrorizing Far West. Hyrum and the Prophet Joseph were taken to Liberty, Missouri, where they were imprisoned. Under the compulsion of Governor Lilburn W. Boggs’s extermination order, she left Missouri with the stepchildren for whom she had taken responsibility, as well as her own son. Her sister Mercy placed Mary, who was seriously ill, on a bed in a wagon box with her infant boy cradled at her side.

In February 1839, when winter was still upon the land, they traveled east across the state and then across the Mississippi to Quincy, Illinois, bumping along in a springless wagon where every jolt brought pain.

When her husband and the Prophet escaped from Liberty Jail and came to Quincy, life again improved. The Saints moved to what became Nauvoo and established their beautiful city on the Mississippi. But their peace was short-lived. Her little boy was less than six years old when a knock came at night on her window and a man said, “Sister Smith, your husband has been killed!”
Joseph F. never forgot his mother’s weeping through the night.
Her world was shattered. She was on her own now with a large family to care for. In the summer of 1846, they bade their comfortable home good-bye and rode a flatboat across the Mississippi. Taking matters into her own hands, she was able to trade, borrow, and barter for ox teams and wagons.
While living in Winter Quarters, she and her brother went down the Missouri River to purchase provisions and clothing. They had two wagons, each having two yoke of oxen. Camping for the night, they discovered in the morning that their two best oxen were gone. Young Joseph and his uncle spent the entire morning looking for the lost animals. They found nothing. Disheartened, he returned to tell his mother. Their situation was desperate, terribly so. As he approached, he saw her on her knees praying fervently, speaking with the Lord about their problem. When she arose to her feet, there was a smile on her face. She told her son and her brother to get their breakfast and she would look around. Following a little stream of water, and disregarding the words of a man who was in the area, she went directly along the bank of the river.
Pausing, she called to her son and brother. She pointed to their oxen, which had been tied to a clump of willows growing in the bottom of a deep gulch. The thief, who had tried to misdirect her, lost his prize and they were saved.
Mary’s faith imprinted itself in her son’s boyish heart. He never forgot it. He never doubted her closeness to the Lord.
All of you are familiar with her experience when one of her oxen, exhausted and worn, lay down to die while they were en route to these valleys in the West. In a mixture of utter desperation and simple faith, she secured consecrated oil and asked her brother and an associate to administer to the ox. They did so. It rose to its feet with a renewal of strength and carried them for the remainder of their long journey.
Such was the faith, sweet and simple and beautiful, which graced this woman’s life. She walked in the light of the Lord. She lived by that light. It guided her in all of her actions. It became the lodestar of her life. She exemplified the tremendous faith of the women of this Church—the women of the Relief Society, who today on a thousand fronts carry on the dedicated work of this remarkable organization.

Elena R., 13 , also felt nervous about camp but for a different reason. She was excited to accept the Fit Challenge and to share what she was doing with her friends at school, but she was worried they might make fun of her. She invited one of her friends who is not a Church member to participate in the Fit Challenge with her, and to her surprise, the friend accepted. The two finished the challenge and went to camp together.
“I just felt like this would be a really great opportunity for her to learn about the gospel,” Elena said. “I was really excited that she was reading the Book of Mormon every day. I thought Young Women camp would be a great time to learn about the Church because we’d be around girls our age who are part of the Church.”

Katherine Wilkinson, from Utah, often stayed out late on Saturday nights. She said of one weekend, “My friends and I had gone to dinner, watched a movie, and stayed up talking well into the morning. It was probably after 2:00 a.m. when I finally went to sleep.
“On Sunday morning, I fumbled in the darkness to turn off my alarm at 7:30 a.m. but since church didn’t begin until 8:30 a.m., my sleepy self reasoned that I could reset my alarm for 8:00 a.m. When I finally got up, I had to rush to get ready on time. A two-minute shower and no breakfast later, I rushed out the door.
“Church seemed long. I could hardly stay awake during the meetings. I watched the clock, counting down the minutes until I would be napping at home. Not until Sunday School began did I realize that, in my rush, I had forgotten both my scriptures and the manual.”
Eventually Katherine decided she wanted to change so that she could enjoy the Sabbath day and keep it holy. “I pondered on my Sabbath day,” she said. “I’d gotten up too late, rushed to church only halfway ready, endured three hours of meetings (without a good attitude), and come back home to sleep. And that was hardly the first time my Sunday had gone that way. I realized I was depriving myself of the full blessings of Sabbath-day worship, especially the sacrament and what it offered me.
“Observing the Sabbath includes more than physically attending Church meetings; it means being there mentally and spiritually. I want to do that. President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) taught, ‘The Sabbath calls for constructive thoughts and acts, and if one merely lounges about doing nothing on the Sabbath, he is breaking it. To observe it, one will be on his knees in prayer, preparing lessons, studying the gospel, meditating, visiting the ill and distressed, sleeping, reading wholesome material, and attending all the meetings of that day to which he is expected’ (The Miracle of Forgiveness [1969], 96–97). As I’ve begun to change and honor this sacred day, I have felt greater blessings in my life.”

Most 11-year-olds are already busy with school, household chores, and activities with friends. But Alexandra C., from the state of Durango, Mexico, wasn’t a typical 11-year-old. In addition to all the normal things young people do at that age, Alexandra was making money from her own business and serving in her community.

So how does a girl that young start her own company?

It began when Alexandra heard of some classes the Church offers to help people learn to be self-reliant. The group was mainly for people 18 and older, but Alexandra was determined to join. She loved the idea of learning how to get a job or start her own business.

Could it be that she, a girl still in elementary school, might not only shape her own future but also help people who had even less than she did? After all, many of the Church members she knew from her town had little education and few resources.

Alexandra joined a group called “Starting and Growing My Business,” one of three subjects offered. Rather than being taught by a teacher, the group was led by a facilitator—a fellow group member who guides the other members through the course and encourages discussion. Alexandra met with her group every week for three months.

Photographs courtesy of Alexandra C.

As Alexandra learned how to be both temporally and spiritually self-reliant, she began to look around at the needs in her area. She noticed that there weren’t enough recreational activities for all the kids in her town, so she saved up money and bought a small trampoline. Alexandra put the trampoline in a public area and started renting it out, using ideas she’d learned about marketing and finance in her course.

The trampoline became very popular in her community.

Alexandra started using her skills in other ways too. Because she’d shown great respect for all her group members and had followed through on all her commitments, Alexandra was trusted to facilitate a new group—a position normally held by people 18 or older.

When Alexandra became a facilitator, she was by far the youngest of the six participants in her group. She carefully studied the materials before each group meeting so she’d know how to best help her fellow group members. She took her new role seriously. “She would get anxious when her group didn’t arrive on time or when the video equipment didn’t work,” said her father, David.

Alexandra learned to balance homework, the trampoline business, and her facilitator role exceptionally well. And she thinks it was well worth it. “God blessed me when He made me a facilitator,” she said. For her, one blessing was to learn about loving those you serve.

That love led her to reach out to her group with a real desire for them to succeed. For instance, each time they met, group members made weekly commitments to apply what they studied to their businesses and then teach their families the gospel principles they’d learned. When participants in Alexandra’s group didn’t reach their goals or missed a class, she’d visit them in their homes to see if they were all right and to encourage them to fulfill their commitments. “I loved visiting my group members,” she said.

Alexandra’s dad added, “I marvel to see how my little daughter could feel so strongly about the well-being of those in need. She has great compassion for those she serves.”

Now a Beehive in Young Women, Alexandra has plans to expand her trampoline business to a nearby community. By learning to be more self-reliant and helping others do the same, she said she’s already started to see changes in herself and her new friends in her group. “My testimony of Christ has grown,” Alexandra said. “I feel more sure of myself, and I want to serve.”

Alexandra said that because of this training course, she’s more aware of who she really is and how she can serve. “I learned I could improve myself. And I loved to see all of the group members improving. I know they’ll be better off now; their businesses will improve. I know that the self-reliance training was revelation from God.”

For Alexandra, her testimony, self-worth, and service to others have definitely been things worth working for.

Age 17. From Texas, USA. Likes playing tennis and basketball, running track, and listening to music.
Recently, I organized a clothing drive with some youth from my stake and high school. We collected boxes of gently used clothes to send to clothing closets in the area to help families in need and kids with special needs or disabilities. My younger brother has an autoimmune disease, so I have a special place in my heart for kids going through similar challenges.
While the outcome of this service project was important to me, it was also about bringing people together and creating a sense of community and purpose. By working together, we were able to make new friendships and connections. I felt a sense of accomplishment from doing something good for others.
This experience reminded me of how important it is to love God by serving others. It’s easy to get caught up in our own lives and problems, but when we put others first and follow the Spirit’s promptings to serve, we can bring joy and love into the world.
“We can bring joy and love into the world.”

When my parents go to visit my great-grandma at the rest home, I always like to go. I feel happy when I see Great-Grandma Billie, but I love seeing all the other grandmas, too. They don’t know me, but they ask me my name, and everyone wants to talk to me. I guess they get lonely and like to see children. I like to help make them feel happy inside, and I always feel good when I go there.
Cassidy Ferrell, age 5Lehi, Utah

In 1952, Elder Benson was astonished to receive a telephone call informing him that U.S. President-elect Dwight D. Eisenhower, a man he had never met, wanted to talk to him about becoming U.S. Secretary of Agriculture. Farm leaders had recommended Ezra Taft Benson as the best man for the job. With Church President David O. McKay’s blessing and President Eisenhower’s assurance that he need never endorse a policy that he did not agree with, Elder Benson became Secretary Benson. The Benson family returned to Washington, D.C., for the eight years of the Eisenhower administration.

In that period, controversy was raging about how to stabilize supply and demand in an uncertain farm economy, and Ezra Taft Benson’s face appeared on the covers of national magazines as he dealt with the problem. He spoke forthrightly, without regard for how popular his opinion might be. Speaking to farmers and politicians, he dared to suggest that the solutions to economic and political problems are based on spiritual and moral principles, without which no nation can have prosperity or peace. In Washington, Elder Benson instigated the practice of opening Cabinet meetings with prayer, and the Bensons presented a family home evening program to the Eisenhowers.

Actually, for Elder Benson, the time in Washington was not really an interruption in his service to God. He was a patriot who found in the Book of Mormon answers for his country’s needs. He loved the choice land where the gospel had been restored, he revered its Constitution, and he took very seriously his responsibility to help preserve it. Twenty years later, one of the choicest assignments of President Benson’s life was to review the St. George Temple records showing ordinances performed there for the founding fathers of the United States.

Hiking into the foothills and onto the mountain east of Manti, Utah, was a favorite activity for me when I was growing up. One crisp fall day when I was about 10 years old, my friend and I decided to go for a hike.
My mother carefully wrapped two peanut butter and jam sandwiches and two pieces of raisin pie in waxed paper and put them and an apple apiece in brown paper bags for us to take for our lunches.
I enjoyed the cool, fresh air and the smell of the fields and orchards as we made our way past the outskirts of town, past one neighbor’s farm, and through another’s apple orchard. The trees were loaded with delicious red apples.
We were each carrying a large burlap sack, as we hoped to find pine nuts. As we took the narrow trail through the sagebrush and into the junipers, we found a piñion pine tree here and there and a few pinecones.
We put the cones, sticky with fresh pine gum, into our burlap sacks, knowing that each hard, green cone held a number of pine nuts locked tightly inside it. I loved pine nuts then; I still do. The Indians liked them, too, but they gathered them for survival. They made a pine nut bread that was half pine nuts and half grasshoppers. I preferred my pine nuts without grasshoppers.
My friend and I climbed higher until we came to a maze of flat, white rocks laid out so that they formed a huge letter M (for “Manti,” the name of our town). This huge letter could be seen from the valley below. We picked out one of the large, flat rocks and sat down on it to rest. Taking our shoes off to cool our feet on the smooth rock, we enjoyed looking down on Manti, out across the fields and valleys, and beyond. There was a soft breeze in the clean, clear air, and we could smell the mixture of sage, juniper, and pine. It felt so good to be alive!
We gathered dry brush and limbs so that we could make a fire to roast some of our pine nuts. We lit the brush, and soon it was blazing quite high—too high!
The flames caught onto one nearby clump of sagebrush, then another and another. It looked as if our little fire would soon spread to the whole mountainside and become a forest fire. We had no water to put out the fire with, so we tried to beat it out with our burlap sacks. But every time we beat at the fire, it seemed to fan out and spread more. In desperation my friend said, “I’ll go for help.” He pulled his shoes on and took off running down the mountain.
I was alone! I went to my knees in prayer. “Father in Heaven, help me put this fire out.” This is all I remember saying. I don’t know what I expected. There was not a cloud in the sky, and it didn’t suddenly start to rain. I didn’t hear a voice telling me what to do, but Heavenly Father did answer my prayer.
Before I’d even gotten off my knees, I was impressed to start throwing dirt on the nearest burning bush, and then on the next one. I threw dirt on another and another until I had encircled the entire fire and had it under control. Soon only smoke was left blowing up on the mountain where the fire had been. I had not heard a voice saying, “Throw dirt on the fire,” but I had felt strongly impressed to do it. In some way Heavenly Father had conveyed that idea to my mind.
I am grateful for the way Heavenly Father answered my prayer. He did not put the fire out. Instead, he allowed me the dignity of putting the fire out, which boosted my self-confidence and helped me realize that I could solve difficult problems with his help.
I learned many important lessons from this experience. The first lesson I learned was to not start a fire next to brush with a breeze blowing. More important, I learned that the prayer of a small boy on a mountain would be heard and answered. I also learned that Heavenly Father will generally not do for us what we can do for ourselves, but will prompt us to use our own intelligence, our own strength, and the materials at hand, such as the dirt under our feet.

As a boy, I learned a great lesson of faith and sacrifice as I worked on my grandfather’s farm during the terrible economic depression of the 1930s. The taxes on the farm were unpaid, and Grandfather, like so many, had no money. There was a drought in the land, and some cows and horses were dying for lack of grass and hay.
One day when we were harvesting what little hay there was in the field, Grandfather told us to take the wagon to the corner of the field where the best hay was, fill the wagon as full as we could, and take it to the tithing yard as payment of his tithing.
I wondered how Grandfather could use the hay to pay tithing when some of the cows that we were depending upon to sustain us might starve. I even questioned if the Lord expected that much sacrifice. Ultimately I marveled at his great faith that somehow the Lord would provide. The legacy of faith he passed on to his posterity was far greater than money, because he established in the minds of his children and grandchildren that he loved the Lord and His holy work more than earthly things. Grandfather never became wealthy, but he died at peace with the Lord and with himself.

Four years ago, during my preparation to serve a full-time mission, I went to Asi Ukpo hospital located in the city of Calabar, Nigeria for my medicals. After paying for my medical test, it was time for my X-ray. I was directed to the laboratory and there I met with the doctor. He looked at me and asked the following questions:
“Your name?”
I replied “Bassey Thomas, sir”.
He asked, “Are you a Latter-day Saint?”
I said “Yes, I am.”
He smiled and asked, “Have you been to the temple before?”
I said “Yes, I have”.
He then asked, “Have you been baptized for the dead before?”
I again replied, “Yes, I have”.
Next, he asked, “Are you going on a mission?”
I said “yes, that’s why I am here, for my medicals.”
He smiled again and asked me to wait. He then invited his colleague to join, and they began trying to prove my faith wrong and my decision as well. I was quiet while they spoke. They opened scriptures and started teaching me. They challenged me to go look for a Bible-believing church and join. They also promised to cancel my medical test and refund my payment so that I can go and look for something meaningful to do.
After their challenge I began testifying to them:
That God and His Son, Jesus Christ live.
That The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true.
That the temple and temple ordinances such as baptism for the dead are ordained of Him.
My decision to serve as a full-time missionary is to help others to know this truth.
They told me that they didn’t have any option other than to obey my choice. He then proceeded to carry out the test.
After some months, I was called to serve and labor in the Ghana Cape Coast Mission. There I was able to learn, teach, grow and develop a strong testimony of my Heavenly Father, my Saviour and His restored gospel. The experience I had in that hospital has strengthened my testimony, whenever I think back on it. Indeed God “will not suffer [us] to be tempted above that [we] are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that [we] may be able to bear it” (1 Corinthians 10:13).

This lesson I learned anew some years ago as I received a rather unique and frightening assignment. Folkman D. Brown, then the Director of Mormon Relationships for the Boy Scouts of America, came to my office, having learned that I was about to depart for a lengthy assignment to New Zealand. He told me of his widowed sister, Belva Jones, who had been stricken with terminal cancer, who knew not how to tell her only son—a missionary in that faraway country. Her wish, even her plea, was that he remain in the mission field and serve faithfully. She worried about his reaction; for the missionary, Elder Ryan Jones, had lost his father just a year earlier to the same dread disease.
I accepted the responsibility. Following a missionary meeting held adjacent to the majestically beautiful New Zealand Temple, I met privately with Elder Jones and, as gently as I could, explained the situation of his mother. Naturally there were tears—not all his—but then the handclasp of assurance and the pledge: “Tell my mother I will serve, I will pray, and I will see her again.”
I returned to Salt Lake City just in time to attend a conference of the Lost River Stake at Moore, Idaho. As I sat on the stand with the stake president, my attention was drawn almost instinctively to the east side of the chapel, where the morning sunlight bathed the lone occupant of a front bench. I said to the stake president, “Who is the sister upon whom the sunlight is resting? I feel I must speak to her today.” He replied, “Her name is Belva Jones. She has a missionary son in New Zealand. She is very ill and has requested a blessing.”
Prior to that moment, I had not known where Belva Jones lived. My assignment that weekend could have been to any one of 50 stakes. Yet the Lord, in His own way, had answered the prayer of faith of a concerned mother. We had a wonderful visit together. I reported word for word the reaction and the resolve of her son, Ryan. A blessing was provided, a prayer offered, a witness received. Belva Jones would live to see her son complete his mission. This privilege she enjoyed. Just one month prior to her passing, his mission completed, Ryan returned home.

One of the greatest privileges for me and my wife, Renee, is to meet with the Saints where we serve. We hear their stories, we witness their losses, we share their grief, and we rejoice with their success. We have witnessed many of the blessings and miracles that the Savior has bestowed upon the faithful. We have met people who have gone through the impossible, who have suffered the unthinkable.

We have seen the manifestation of the Savior’s power in a widow who lost her husband while they were on the Lord’s errand in Bolivia. We have seen it in a young woman in Argentina who fell under a train and lost her leg, just because someone wanted to steal her cell phone. And in her single father, who now must pick up the pieces and strengthen his daughter after such an unexplainable act of cruelty. We have seen it in the families that lost their homes and every possession during fires in Chile just two days before Christmas in 2022. We have seen it in those who suffer after a traumatic divorce and in those who are innocent victims of abuse.
What gives them the power to go through hard things? What gives an extra layer of strength to go on when everything seems lost?
I have found that the source of that strength is faith in Jesus Christ as we intentionally seek to come unto Him each and every day.
The prophet Jacob taught, “And he cometh into the world that he may save all men if they will hearken unto his voice; for behold, he suffereth the pains of all men, yea, the pains of every living creature, both men, women, and children, who belong to the family of Adam.”
At times, having faith in Jesus Christ may seem like something impossible, almost unattainable. We may think that coming unto Christ requires a strength, power, and perfection we don’t have, and we just can’t find the energy to do it all. But what I have learned from all these people is that faith in Jesus Christ is what gives us the energy to begin the journey. Sometimes we may think, “I need to fix my life before I come to Jesus,” but the truth is that we come to Jesus to fix our lives through Him.
We don’t come to Jesus because we are perfect. We come to Him because we are flawed and in Him we can “be perfected.”
How do we begin exercising a little bit of faith every day? For me it begins in the morning: When I wake up, instead of looking at my phone, I say a prayer. Even a simple prayer. Then I read a scripture. This helps me with my weekly covenant that I make as I partake of the sacrament to “always remember him.” When I begin my day with a prayer and a scripture, I can “remember Him” when I do look at my phone. I can “remember Him” when I face problems and conflicts, and I try to face them like Jesus would.
When I “remember Him,” I feel a desire to change, to repent. I find the source of energy to keep my covenants, and I feel the influence of the Holy Ghost in my life “and keep his commandments which he has given [me]; that [I] may always have his Spirit.” It helps me to endure to the end. Or at least to the end of the day! And in those days that I fail to remember Him all day, He is still there, loving me and telling me, “It’s OK; you can try again tomorrow.”
Although we are imperfect at remembering Him, our loving Heavenly Father never fails to remember us.
One of the mistakes we often make is to think that keeping covenants, or the promises we make to God, is somehow a transaction we make with Him: I obey, and He protects me from anything bad ever happening to me. I pay my tithing, and I will never lose my job or the fire will not burn my house. But then when things don’t go as we expected, we cry unto the Lord, “Carest thou not that I perish?”
Our covenants are not merely transactional; they are transformational. Through my covenants I receive sanctifying, strengthening power of Jesus Christ, which allows me to become a new person, to forgive what seems unforgivable, to overcome the impossible. Intentionally remembering Jesus Christ always is powerful; it gives me added strength to “keep his commandments which he has given [me].” It helps me to be nicer, to smile for no reason, to be a peacemaker, to avoid conflict, to let God prevail in my life.
When our pain or the pain of someone we love is so much that we can’t bear it, remembering Jesus Christ and coming unto Him can lighten the burden, soften the heart, and ease the pain. This is the power that enabled a father beyond his natural capacity to sustain his daughter through the physical and emotional pain of losing her leg.
When Elder Soares visited Argentina last June and asked Flavia about her tragic accident, she faithfully replied, “I experienced turmoil, bitterness, anger, and hate when [this happened]. Something that helped me was not to ask, ‘why me?’ but ‘what for?’ … This was something that brought me closer to others and the Lord. … Instead of distancing myself from Him, I had to cling to Him.”
President Nelson taught: “The reward for keeping covenants with God is heavenly power—power that strengthens us to withstand our trials, temptations, and heartaches better. … Thus, covenant keepers are entitled to a special kind of rest.” This is the kind of rest and peace I saw in the eyes of the widow, despite the heartache she felt of missing her husband every day.
The New Testament tells of a time when Jesus and His disciples were on a ship:
“And there arose a great storm of wind, and the waves beat into the ship. …
“And he was … asleep on a pillow: and they awake him, and say unto him, Master, carest thou not that we perish?
“And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. …
“And he said unto them, Why are ye so fearful? how is it that ye have no faith?”
I have always been intrigued by this story. Did the Lord expect them to use their faith to calm the storm? To rebuke the winds? Faith in Jesus Christ is the feeling of peace to withstand the storm, knowing that we will not perish because He is in the ship with us.
This is the kind of faith we saw when we visited the families after the fires in Chile. Their houses had been burned to the ground; they had lost everything. Yet as we were walking in what used to be their homes and they were telling us about their experiences, we felt that we were standing on holy ground. One sister said to my wife, “When I saw that nearby houses were burning, I had the impression that our house was going to be burned, that we were going to lose everything. Instead of desperation, I experienced a sense of indescribable peace. Somehow, I felt everything was going to be OK.” Trusting God and keeping our covenants with Him bring power to our weakness and comfort to our grief.
I am grateful for the opportunity that Renee and I had to meet some of these extraordinary Saints, for their many examples of faith, strength, and perseverance. For stories of heartbreak and disappointment that will never make the front page of a newspaper or ever go viral. For the pictures that are not taken of tears shed and prayers offered after a loss or a traumatic divorce; for the posts that are never made of the fear, the sorrow, and the pain that become bearable thanks to faith in Jesus Christ and His Atonement. These people strengthen my own faith, and for that I am deeply grateful.
I know this is the Church of Jesus Christ. I know that He stands ready to endow us with His power if we come to Him each and every day. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

We have testimonies from seminary students throughout the world. Listen to a page from a diary coming from Russia:
“Today is the happiest morning in this year; today is the first morning seminary day.
“How and when originate this thought about daily morning seminary. I remember there was a lesson from our CES teachers that mentioned about the daily seminary program in the United States and Europe and that got stuck in my mind. At that lesson I felt the power of the Holy Ghost, which brought a thought unto me that we should have seminary here. Then I felt that the Lord endows everything for this job: possibility, strength, and help. We have to have just willingness to accept such a gift.
“After that meeting I felt great inspiration. Some mothers got frightened a little with the idea because children will have to get up early in the morning and in school, they are overloaded, and some finish the school this year and will be entering higher educational institutions. But fathers who have priesthood completely supported me, having said that daily studying of the scriptures is so needed for youth, will teach them discipline, and also will help them gain the Holy Ghost, which during the daytime and school lessons will help to withstand the temptations of Satan” (comments from early-morning seminary teachers from Vyborg, Russia, fall 1996).

A friend of mine told the following story:
“There was a little crippled boy who ran a small newsstand in a crowded railroad station. He must have been about twelve years old. Every day he would sell papers, candy, gum, and magazines to the thousands of commuters passing through the terminal.
“One night two men were rushing through the crowded station to catch a train. One was fifteen or twenty yards in front of the other. It was Christmas eve. Their train was scheduled to depart in a matter of minutes.
“The first man turned a corner and in his haste to get home to a Christmas cocktail party plowed right into the little crippled boy. He knocked him off his stool, and candy, newspapers, and gum were scattered everywhere. Without so much as stopping, he cursed the little fellow for being there and rushed on to catch the train that would take him to celebrate Christmas in the way he had chosen for himself.
“It was only a matter of seconds before the second commuter arrived on the scene. He stopped, knelt, and gently picked up the boy. After making sure the child was unhurt, the man gathered up the scattered newspapers, sweets, and magazines. Then he took his wallet and gave the boy a five dollar bill. ‘Son,’ he said, ‘I think this will take care of what was lost or soiled. Merry Christmas!’
“Without waiting for a reply the commuter now picked up his briefcase and started to hurry away. As he did, the little crippled boy cupped his hands together and called out, ‘Mister, Mister!’
“The man stopped as the boy asked, ‘Are you Jesus Christ?’
“By the look on his face, it was obvious the commuter was embarrassed by the question. But he smiled and said, ‘No, son. I am not Jesus Christ, but I am trying hard to do what He would do if He were here’” (American Opinion, Dec. 1971, pp. 13–14).

South Africa, London, Reno, Argentina, Maine …
The names of countries, capitals, cities, and states swirled through Julie’s mind as she watched her geography teacher, Ms. Simmons, pass out tests at the front of the room.
Julie tapped her feet on the floor. It wasn’t that she didn’t like geography—she loved it! But she was nervous about labeling the map. What if she mixed up Spain and France again?
Tate turned around in his chair and handed back a stack of tests. Julie took one and handed the rest to her friend Allie behind her. She drummed her pencil against her lower lip and stared at the paper. It had a big map of the world on it with lots of lines for her to fill in. Where should she even start?
She glanced up. That’s when she noticed that something strange was going on.
One of the boys was hiding a smile and pointing toward the front of the room. Other kids were noticing and starting to whisper.
Julie looked where the boy was pointing. Her heart started to pound.
A map of the world was still taped on the board! Ms. Simmons had forgotten to take it down, and all the answers were right there for everyone to see!
Quickly Julie ducked her head. She didn’t want to look at the map. That would be cheating. But it was suddenly very hard to keep her eyes on her test.
Maybe I can do my best without looking, she thought. And then I’ll just double-check my answers at the end. But no, that would be cheating too.
The longer she sat there, the worse Julie felt. Even if she didn’t look at the map, she wouldn’t feel completely honest if she didn’t tell Ms. Simmons about it.
Holding her breath, Julie slowly raised her hand.
Ms. Simmons walked down the aisle to her desk.
Julie felt like the whole class was glaring at her. Her face turned bright red with embarrassment.
“Yes, Julie?” Ms. Simmons asked. “Do you need something?”
“Ms. Simmons, I think you accidentally left the map on the board,” Julie whispered.
“Oh, dear. Thank you for pointing that out, Julie.” She walked over and took it down.
Julie heard some grumbling around her, but she kept her head down and focused on her test. The tension in the room seemed to melt away. I probably wasn’t the only one who wanted to say something, she thought. It was a lot easier to finish the test without feeling tempted to look at the board.
Julie was glad that she had kept her teacher’s trust. Most important, she knew that Heavenly Father would be happy with her choice to be completely honest. Heavenly Father, she prayed silently, thank Thee for giving me the courage to speak up.

As I knelt by my bed to say my nightly prayers, I felt like my heart would burst—not with joy, but with loneliness and anger. This wasn’t what I had expected at all!
It was my second night at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, and I was feeling miserable. I didn’t like my companion, I didn’t like Spanish, and I didn’t like myself much for being such a baby.
I started my prayer, but then realized that I didn’t have anything to say. Although I desperately needed someone to talk to, it just didn’t seem right to express my empty, lonely, and bitter feelings to Heavenly Father. I finally said a standard, “thank you for my health and the chance to be here,” sort of prayer and crawled into bed.
Why doesn’t Heavenly Father help me? If he really knows how I feel before I ask, what is he waiting for? I thought angrily.
Then I remembered the book of Enos, which I had read that afternoon. I pictured Enos kneeling in the forest, pleading for the Lord to forgive and help him. His words echoed in my mind: “I did pour out my whole soul unto God” (Enos 1:9).
Had I done the same? Had I really humbly asked for Heavenly Father’s help? I knew I hadn’t.
I knelt again. This time I had plenty to say. I told my Father how frustrated I felt, how I couldn’t learn the language, how I needed to love my companion, and how I wanted to do a good job. I cried as I explained that I felt abandoned, and I needed his help.
“And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart” (Jer. 29:13).
This time I didn’t say a prayer—I prayed. Again, I felt that my heart would burst, but this time with hope, peace, and love. As I climbed into bed, I still didn’t know how things would work out, but I knew they would.

There are some things you need to understand.
The priesthood is something you cannot see nor hear nor touch, but it is a real authority and a real power.
When I was five years old, I became very ill. It turned out that I had polio, a disease that was completely unknown to the small-town doctor. I lay for several weeks on a World War I army cot in our front room beside a coal stove. Afterward, I could not walk. I remember very clearly sliding around on the linoleum floor and pulling myself up on chairs, learning to walk again. I was more fortunate than some. A friend walked with crutches and steel leg braces all of his life.
As I moved into school, I found that my muscles were weak. I was very self-conscious. I knew that I could never be an athlete.
It did not help a lot when I read about the man who went to a doctor to find a cure for his inferiority complex. After a careful examination, the doctor told him, “You don’t have a complex. You really are inferior!”
With that for encouragement, I set about through life and determined to compensate in other ways.
I found hope in my patriarchal blessing. The patriarch, whom I had never met before, confirmed to me that patriarchs do have prophetic insight. He said that I had a desire to come to earth life and was willing to meet the tests that would accompany life in a mortal body. He said that I had been given a body of such physical proportion and fitness to enable my spirit to function through it unhampered by physical impediment. That encouraged me.
I learned that you should always take care of your body. Take nothing into your body that will harm it, such as we are counseled in the Word of Wisdom: tea, coffee, liquor, tobacco, or anything else that is habit-forming, addictive, or harmful.
Read section 89 in the Doctrine and Covenants. You will find great promises:
“All saints who remember to keep and do these sayings, walking in obedience to the commandments, shall receive health in their navel and marrow to their bones;
“And shall find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures;
“And shall run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint.”
And then this promise: “And I, the Lord, give unto them a promise, that the destroying angel shall pass by them, as the children of Israel, and not slay them.”10
You may see others who seem to have been given a more perfect body than yours. Do not fall into the trap of feeling poorly about your height or weight or your features or your skin color or race.
You are a son of God. You lived in a premortal existence as an individual spirit child of heavenly parents. At the time of your birth, you received a mortal body of flesh and blood and bone in which to experience earth life. You will be tested as you prepare yourself to return to our Heavenly Father.
I ask you the same question that Paul asked the Corinthians: “What? know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own?”11
Your gender was determined in the premortal existence. You were born a male. You must treasure and protect the masculine part of your nature. You must have respectful, protective regard for all women and girls.
Do not abuse yourself. Never allow others to touch your body in a way that would be unworthy, and do not touch anyone else in any unworthy way.
Avoid the deadly poisons of pornography and narcotics. If these are in your life, beware! If allowed to continue, they can destroy you. Talk to your parents; talk to your bishop. They will know how to help you.
Do not decorate your body with tattoos or by piercing it to add jewels. Stay away from that.
Do not run with friends that worry your parents.
Everywhere present is the influence of Lucifer and his legion of angels. They tempt you to do those things and say those things and think those things that would destroy. Resist every impulse that will trouble your spirit.12
You are not to be fearful. The Prophet Joseph Smith taught that “all beings who have bodies have power over those who have not.”13 And Lehi taught that all “men are instructed sufficiently that they know good from evil.”14 Remember, the prayerful power of your spirit will protect you.
I remember when I was “[baptized] by immersion for the remission of sins.”15 That was appealing. I assumed that all my past mistakes were now washed away, and if I never made any more mistakes in my life, I would be clean. This I resolved to do. Somehow it did not turn out that way. I found that I made mistakes, not intentionally, but I made them. I once foolishly thought maybe I was baptized too soon. I did not understand that the ordinance of the sacrament, administered by you of the Aaronic Priesthood, is in fact a renewing of the covenant of baptism and the reinstating of the blessings connected with it. I did not see, as the revelations tell us, that I could “retain a remission of [my] sins.”16

When I was 16 years old, my oldest brother, Ivan, who was 22 at that time, came home one day and shared some news with the family. He had decided to get baptized in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Our parents looked at him somewhat skeptically, and I remember not completely understanding what was going on. A year or so later, he gave us more surprising news: he had decided to serve as a missionary of the Church, which meant that we were not going to see him for two years. My parents were not thrilled with this news; however, I saw in him a clear determination that increased my admiration for him and the decision he had made.
Months later, while Ivan was serving his mission, I had the opportunity to plan a vacation with some schoolmates. We wanted to celebrate the end of our high school years and spend a few days at the beach.
I wrote a letter to my missionary brother, mentioning my summer vacation plans. He wrote back that the town he was serving in was on the way to my destination. I decided it would be a good idea to stop by and visit him. It was not until later that I learned that missionaries are not supposed to be visited by family.
I made all the arrangements. I remember sitting on the bus thinking of all the fun Ivan and I would have together on this beautiful sunny day. We would have breakfast, chat, play in the sand, sunbathe—what a great time we were going to have!
As the bus arrived at the terminal, I saw Ivan standing next to another young man, both in white shirts and ties. I got off the bus, we hugged each other, and he introduced his companion. Without wasting another minute, I told my brother my plans for the day, but little did I know what Ivan had scheduled. He looked at me, smiled, and said, “Sure! However, we need to do some errands first. Would you come with us?” I agreed, thinking that we would have enough time to enjoy the beach afterward.
That day, for more than 10 hours, I walked through the streets of that town with my brother and his companion. I smiled at people all day. I greeted people I had never seen in my life. We talked to everyone, knocked on the doors of strangers, and visited people my brother and his companion were teaching.
During one such visit, my brother and his companion were teaching about Jesus Christ and the plan of salvation. Suddenly, Ivan paused and looked at me. To my surprise, he politely asked me to share my opinion about what was being taught. The room fell silent, and all eyes were on me. With some difficulty, I finally found the words and shared my feelings about the Savior. I did not know if what I shared was right or wrong. My brother never corrected me; to the contrary, he thanked me for sharing my thoughts and feelings.
During those hours together, my brother and his companion did not spend a single minute teaching a lesson exclusively to me, yet I gained more knowledge than in all my previous conversations with him. I witnessed how countenances were changed as people received spiritual light in their lives. I saw how some of them found hope in the messages, and I learned how to serve others and forget about myself and my own desires. I was doing what the Savior taught: “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself.”3
Looking back, I realize that my faith grew that day because my brother gave me the opportunity to put it in action. I exercised it as we read from the scriptures, looked for people to teach, bore testimony, served others, and so on. We never got around to sunbathing that day, but my heart was bathed in light from heaven. I did not see even one small grain of sand at the beach, but I felt my faith grow like a small grain of mustard seed.4 I did not spend the sunny day as a tourist, but I gained wonderful experiences, and without realizing it, I was a missionary—without even being a member of the Church!
I am grateful for my brother Ivan, who not only shared the gospel with me but also indirectly invited me to live it and recognize my weaknesses. He helped me to accept the invitation of the Master: “Come, follow me”6—to walk as the Savior walked, seek as the Savior sought, and love as the Savior loves us. Months later, after my missionary experience, I decided to get baptized and to serve my own mission.

Susan Hardy, California, USA
When I was 11 years old, my Sunday School teacher, Brother Deets, told our class that if we would memorize the Articles of Faith and explain to him what they meant, he would buy us our own set of scriptures.
Brother and Sister Deets were a young couple, just starting out. I wasn’t sure Brother Deets could afford to buy a gift for anyone. But I decided that if he thought the Articles of Faith were important enough to memorize, I would take the challenge.
After I finished all 13, time went by and I forgot about his promise.
Then, on Christmas Day, I received a package with my name on it. I opened it to find a set of scriptures just for me, with a card encouraging me to read them regularly. That was in 1972, and to this day I still have those scriptures. They are precious to me.
It wasn’t the cost of the gift but the kindness he showed to me and the sacrifice he was willing to make for me that left me with a deep desire to study the word of God. I try to follow Brother Deets’s example of ministering by giving meaningful gifts to those around me, hoping that I can bless others’ lives as he has blessed mine.