Gospel Story Finder

When we marry, we immediately begin to learn things we had never known about ourselves. I have to laugh now when I look back at myself as a young returned missionary. At that time, I saw myself as unimaginably spiritual and Christlike. I thought I was patient, longsuffering, and kind.
Then I got married! It didn’t take long for me to realize how much I still needed to learn. Our first child showed me how little patience I really had. And in my relationship with my wife, Kathy, I discovered that I had subconsciously believed the world’s teachings: “Defend yourself,” “You don’t have to put up with that,” and “Backing down is a sign of weakness.” Kathy’s example of turning the other cheek and of truly living Christlike qualities showed me that I knew much less about being a disciple of Christ than I had thought.

I received the other day a very interesting letter. It was written by a woman who joined the Church a year ago. She writes:
“My journey into the Church was unique and quite challenging. This past year has been the hardest year that I have ever lived in my life. It has also been the most rewarding. As a new member, I continue to be challenged every day.”
She goes on to say that when she joined the Church she did not feel support from the leadership in her ward. Her bishop seemed indifferent to her as a new member. Rebuffed, as she felt, she turned back to her mission president, who opened opportunities for her.
She states that “Church members don’t know what it is like to be a new member of the Church. Therefore, it’s almost impossible for them to know how to support us.”
I challenge you, my brothers and sisters, that if you do not know what it is like, you try to imagine what it is like. It can be terribly lonely. It can be disappointing. It can be frightening. We of this Church are far more different from the world than we are prone to think we are. This woman goes on: “When we as investigators become members of the Church, we are surprised to discover that we have entered into a completely foreign world, a world that has its own traditions, culture, and language. We discover that there is no one person or no one place of reference that we can turn to for guidance in our trip into this new world. At first the trip is exciting, our mistakes even amusing, then it becomes frustrating and eventually, the frustration turns into anger. And it’s at these stages of frustration and anger that we leave. We go back to the world from which we came, where we knew who we were, where we contributed, and where we could speak the language.”
I have said before, and I repeat it, that every new convert needs three things:
A friend in the Church to whom he can constantly turn, who will walk beside him, who will answer his questions, who will understand his problems.
An assignment. Activity is the genius of this Church. It is the process by which we grow. Faith and love for the Lord are like the muscle of my arm. If I use them, they grow stronger. If I put them in a sling, they become weaker. Every convert deserves a responsibility. The bishop may feel that he is not qualified for responsibility. Take a chance on him. Think of the risk the Lord took when He called you.
Of course the new convert will not know everything. He likely will make some mistakes. So what? We all make mistakes. The important thing is the growth that will come of activity.
As a part of this process of giving responsibility, it is proper and very important that the new convert, if he be a man, is ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood. Then before too many months, he may be ordained to the Melchizedek Priesthood. He will have the fellowship of the elders quorum. He will become one of a vast body of priesthood throughout the world, men of integrity and faith who love the Lord and seek to move forward His work.
Every convert must be “nourished by the good word of God” (Moro. 6:4). It is imperative that he or she become affiliated with a priesthood quorum or the Relief Society, the Young Women, the Young Men, the Sunday School, or the Primary. He or she must be encouraged to come to sacrament meeting to partake of the sacrament, to renew the covenants made at the time of baptism.
Not long ago, I listened to a man and woman who spoke in my home ward. This man had served in many capacities in the Church, including that of bishop. Their most recent assignment was to fellowship a single mother and her children. He stated that it was the most joyful of all his Church experiences.
This young woman was full of questions. She was filled with fear and anxiety. She did not wish to make a mistake, to say anything that was out of line that might embarrass her or cause others to laugh. Patiently this man and his wife brought the family to church, sat with them, put a shield around them, as it were, against anything that might happen to embarrass them. They spent one evening a week with them at their home, teaching them further concerning the gospel and answering their many questions. They led that little family along as a shepherd leads his sheep. Eventually, circumstances dictated that they move to another city. “But,” he stated, “we still correspond with that woman. We feel a great appreciation for her. She is now firmly grounded in the Church, and we have no fear concerning her. What a joy it has been to work with her.”
I am convinced that we will lose but very, very few of those who come into the Church if we take better care of them. They may not be thoroughly converted. How can they be, having had only six lessons? They may not meet all of the desirable qualifications. But they have been awakened to a new sense of values and opportunities. They have been taught that they are sons and daughters of God. They have been baptized in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost. They have been confirmed members of the Church and received the gift of the Holy Ghost.
I was recently in Canada, where I visited, among other cities, the city of Regina. There we were hosted by President D. Lawrence Penner, president of the Saskatoon Saskatchewan Stake. He is a wonderful man, an excellent executive. When he was 20 years of age, he was baptized. It was a huge step for him. He had been referred to the missionaries by members of the Church. They immediately looked him up. They talked to him. They taught him. They baptized him. They encouraged him, as did his local Church officers. He was ordained to the Priesthood. He was given things to do. A year later, he was called on a mission and served in Japan. He returned the stronger for that experience. With the encouragement of many people who have helped him along the way, he today stands as the presiding high priest of this great stake of Zion. He is the husband and father of a good family, all of whom are active. He is an example of the kind of man who should be coming into the Church as a convert and remaining to become a leader.
Now, you missionaries, you are part of this responsibility of binding your converts to the Church. You may not be able to continue to visit them. But you can write them occasionally and give them encouragement. I hope that every one of you will make a record in your scriptures of every man, woman, and child whom you baptize, together with their home addresses. Your penmanship may be terrible, but an occasional note from you will give reassurance and comfort and a rekindling of joy. When you go home do not forget them. At all times live worthy of their trust. Write to them occasionally, assuring them of your love.
To the missionaries, I repeat, it will do no good for you to baptize someone and have that individual fall away from the Church shortly thereafter. What have you accomplished? You may have labored long and hard, you may have fasted and prayed as you taught a particular individual the gospel. But if he does not remain active in the Church, all of your labor has been in vain. The whole process counts for nothing. Any investigator worthy of baptism becomes a convert worthy of saving.
Elder Bruce Porter of the Seventy recounts an experience: “As a missionary in Germany nearly 25 years ago, I arrived in the city of Wuppertal as a new zone leader shortly after the missionaries who preceded me had had phenomenal success in baptizing several families and individuals. Their baptisms represented a substantial addition to that branch, which had nearly 100 members. We decided as missionaries to concentrate a great deal of effort on integrating and fellowshipping these new members so that they would remain active members of the branch for the rest of their lives. We taught them all of the new member lessons, as well as additional lessons of our own making; we enrolled them in a yearlong Gospel Essentials class taught by the missionaries; we worked with the branch leadership to ensure that they received callings and were integrated into the branch through socials and fellowshipping by members; we arranged for them to meet one another and help teach other investigators so that they would form bonds among themselves that would help them as a group remain active in the future. In short, we spent more than six months after their baptism doing what we could to ensure that their testimonies were strong and that they were integrated into the Church.
“Today, 25 years later, almost all of those families and individuals are still active and faithful. Many of their children have served missions and have been married in the temple. We now have a second and even a third generation of activity in the Church. The one couple who did go inactive had a daughter who remained active and has since been married in the temple. Although this is only one case, my experience then persuaded me that time spent by missionaries working with members to integrate new members into the Church will pay off richly in the long term” (letter to Elder Richard G. Scott).
That is a powerful testimony of what can be done. However, missionaries do not need to neglect proselyting to assist in fellowshipping the members. The two efforts can go hand in hand. You have the Saints to help, all of them. You have bishops and their ward councils. You have stake presidents and their stake councils. Most particularly, you have the Member Missionary Coordinating Council, which meets periodically to consider missionary problems in the stakes and most particularly to keep track of and give an accounting of every new member who has come into the Church. Your own full-time mission president will frequently attend this meeting.
Under the direction of this council, another six lessons will be taught to more firmly ground new members in their faith.
Now, to you bishops who hold your ward council meetings, a discussion of the status of converts in that meeting may be the most important business you will conduct. You are not bound by rigid rules. You have unlimited flexibility. You are entitled to answers to your prayers, to inspiration and revelation from the Lord in dealing with this matter. I am appalled when I hear that a bishop is indifferent toward those who come into the Church. At that time, they may not be very attractive people. But if they are treated right, the gospel will refine them. Their very dress, their demeanor, their deportment will improve. All of us have seen miracles occur. How great is our opportunity, how tremendous our challenge.
My beloved brethren and sisters, it is our responsibility, the responsibility of each of us, of the stake presidency, of the high council, of the bishopric, of the Sunday School presidency, of the Primary presidency, of the Young Men presidency, of the Young Women presidency, of the Relief Society presidency, and of the priesthood quorum officers to see that every one who is baptized is encouraged and made to feel the wondrous warmth of this gospel of our Lord. I am pleased to report that we are making progress, but there is so very much more that remains to be done.
How glorious is this work. It is filled with miracles. We could talk about them all evening as we have witnessed them.
Brothers and sisters, all of you out in the wards and stakes and in the districts and branches, I invite you to become a vast army with enthusiasm for this work and a great overarching desire to assist the missionaries in the tremendous responsibility they have to carry the gospel to every nation, kindred, tongue, and people. “The field is white [and] ready to harvest” (D&C 4:4). The Lord has repeatedly declared this. Shall we not take Him at His word?
Before the Church was organized, there was missionary work. It has continued ever since, notwithstanding the difficulties of many of the seasons through which our people have passed. Let us, every one, resolve within ourselves to arise to a new opportunity, a new sense of responsibility, a new shouldering of obligation to assist our Father in Heaven in His glorious work of bringing to pass the immortality and eternal life of His sons and daughters throughout the earth.
This is God’s holy work. This is His Church and kingdom. The vision that occurred in the Sacred Grove was just as Joseph said it was. We are building a new temple overlooking this hallowed ground to further testify to the reality of this most sacred event. As I recently stood in the snow to determine where this new temple will stand, there came into my heart a true understanding of the importance of what happened in the Sacred Grove. The Book of Mormon is true. It testifies of the Lord Jesus Christ. His priesthood has been restored and is among us. The keys of that priesthood, which have come from heavenly beings, are exercised for our eternal blessing. Such is our testimony—yours and mine—a testimony which we must share with others. I leave this testimony and my blessing and my love with each of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“Look! There’s a honeybird. If we follow, it will lead us to honey,” exclaimed Kirmani to his younger brother, Suku.
The two African boys, dressed in khaki shorts, were playing lion hunting on the edge of their village.
“Tye (Hurry)! Tye!” urged Suku. Dropping their assegais (spears) they ran to their mother for gourds to gather the honey in. Then one of the boys lighted a torch from the cooking fire to smoke out the bees.
“Be sure to leave some honey for the bird,” called their mother as they ran to follow the honeybird.
“Nidyo (Yes),” Suku answered while Kirmani laughed.
“Don’t tell me you really believe the old tale that you must leave a share of honey for the bird, or it will lead you into danger” replied Kirmani scornfully.
“But what of Abu’s father who took all the honey from a hive. He was led on by the bird, so they say, and ended up in a leopard’s belly,” persisted Suku.
Kirmani didn’t argue. He picked up the assegais (spears).
Suku carried the gourds and Kirmani the smoldering torch of grease-soaked moss tied to a long stick.
As they trotted across the veldt (grazing area) dotted with thornbush, a little gray bird flew back and forth just as though it were making sure they would follow. After the bird led them into the forest, it disappeared into the dense foliage. Kirmani ran ahead, but Suku was thinking. Should I leave honey for the bird even though Kirmani won’t.
“Look! There’s the bird. It’s following the old animal trail,” Kirmani called excitedly.
When Suku reached Kirmani, the bird had settled on a branch of a moss-covered tree. Bees were streaming in and out through a small hole in the trunk. “The bird has guided us to honey,” cried Suku, clapping his hands.
Kirmani poked at the hole with his assegai (spear). Rotting wood fell away, leaving a big opening. He thrust the torch inside and smoked out the angry bees.
Suku stood on Kirmani’s shoulders to reach a branch near the hole. He pulled himself up onto the branch and then peered inside. “There is much honey,” he called happily.
Kirmani climbed up the tree and with sticks the boys scraped honey into their gourds. The bird hovered above them, crying plaintively.
When Suku had all the honey he could reach, he slid down the tree. Kirmani scraped out the last bit, licked his stick, then dropped to the ground.
“Nothing for the silly bird,” he said boldly.
The bird lit on the tree but soon flew off, calling.
“It’s coaxing us on,” said Kirmani. “It may guide us to another hive. Suku, you’re not afraid the bird will lead us into danger are you?” He ran ahead. “I dare you to follow it.”
Suku hesitated. We’re getting deeper into the jungle, he thought uneasily. We should have left the bird a share of honey. But he couldn’t ignore a dare. Reluctantly he started to follow.
Suddenly Suku heard a crack, a swoosh, and a frightened cry from Kirmani. He raced ahead and found his brother with his legs pinned beneath a heavy branch from a tree. He tried to lever the branch off Kirmani’s legs with his assegai (spear), but the spear shaft broke.
“Ayah! Ayah! I am going to die,” moaned Kirmani. “The old tale is true. The bird is having its revenge.”
“I will go and tell father,” said Suku and thrusting an assegai (spear) into Kirmani’s hand, he ran for help.
Kirmani groaned with pain. He could hardly move, and he was alone in the jungle with danger all around him. Maybe the honey bird will bring a leopard to kill me, he thought despairingly. Nervously, he peered around. To his astonishment, the bird was perched on a branch overhead.
“It has not flown away to find a leopard,” he murmured half aloud. “It’s only looking at my honey gourd.” Some of his fear left him.
Kirmani’s gourd was sitting on the ground nearby. With his assegai (spear) he nudged it and spilled some honey. He kept still. Presently the bird flew down and began eating the amber honey.
As Kirmani watched, he remembered what Brother Andrew, his teacher, had said about the honey bird not wanting to seek revenge. The thought made him feel better.
Soon Suku returned with their father and a rescue party. They lifted the heavy branch off Kirmani’s leg, made a vine litter, and carried him home.
While Brother Andrew dressed his wounds, Kirmani told his story. “You must know now that the bird was guiding you to another bee tree because it was hungry,” Brother Andrew explained. “It cannot get the honey for itself and you left it nothing. Don’t you think the honey guide deserved a share?”
Kirmani felt ashamed. “Suku wanted to leave some for the honey bird, but I didn’t understand. From now on when the little bird guides me to honey, I won’t be greedy. I will always leave it a share.”

A little story given by one of your missionary sons in Italy a few weeks ago brought this clearly into focus for me.

He recounted that one morning a poor little crippled boy in ragged clothes and badly worn shoes came to a busy street corner and went from person to person, begging for a few lira without success. A man observing the boy from a distance finally went over and picked up this little lad, held him tightly and loved him, and then went forth and cared for him with his means without any judgment.

This sight would have touched any heart and helps us see the power of love that our Father in Heaven would have us understand in our lives. Jesus, the beloved Son of God, reemphasized this new dimension to bless the world when He said, “A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another.” (John 13:34.)

As in the case of the man who picked up the little crippled boy, there are no reproachments or judgments—just love and help.

Thirty-four years ago, my missionary companion and I met and taught a very intellectual man who was a contributing writer for a local newspaper in Davao City, Philippines. We enjoyed teaching him because he had a lot of questions and was very respectful of our beliefs. The most memorable question he asked us was “What think ye of Christ?” We of course excitedly shared our feelings and bore testimony of Jesus Christ. He later published an article on the same topic that contained wonderful words and phrases about the Savior. I remember being impressed but not necessarily lifted. It had good information but felt hollow and lacked spiritual power.

“What think ye of Christ?” I am realizing that how intimately I know the Savior significantly influences my ability to hear Him as well as how I respond. A few years ago, Elder David A. Bednar asked the following questions as part of his remarks: “Do we only know about the Savior, or are we increasingly coming to know Him? How do we come to know the Lord?”

As I studied and pondered, I came to the stark realization that what I know about the Savior greatly outweighed how much I really know Him. I resolved then to put forth more effort to know Him. I am very grateful for the scriptures and testimonies of faithful men and women disciples of Jesus Christ. My own journey over the last few years has taken me down many roads of study and discovery. I pray that the Holy Ghost will convey to you today a message far greater than the inadequate words that I have written.

First, we need to recognize that knowing the Savior is the most important pursuit of our lives. It should take priority over anything else.
“And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.”
“Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”
“I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.”
Second, as we are increasingly coming to know the Savior, scriptural passages and the words of the prophets become so intimately meaningful to us that they become our own words. It is not about copying the words, feelings, and experiences of others as much as it is coming to know for ourselves, in our own unique way, by experimenting upon the word and receiving a witness from the Holy Ghost. As the prophet Alma declared:
“Do ye not suppose that I know of these things myself? Behold, I testify unto you that I do know that these things whereof I have spoken are true. And how do ye suppose that I know of their surety?
“Behold, I say unto you they are made known unto me by the Holy Spirit of God. Behold, I have fasted and prayed many days that I might know these things of myself. And now I do know of myself that they are true; for the Lord God hath made them manifest unto me by his Holy Spirit; and this is the spirit of revelation which is in me.”
Third, an increasing understanding that the Atonement of Jesus Christ applies to us personally and individually will help us know Him. Oftentimes it is easier for us to think and speak of Christ’s Atonement in general terms than to recognize its personal significance in our lives. The Atonement of Jesus Christ is infinite and eternal and all-encompassing in its breadth and depth but wholly personal and individual in its effects. Because of His atoning sacrifice, the Savior has power to cleanse, heal, and strengthen us one by one.
The Savior’s only desire, His only purpose from the very beginning, was to do the will of the Father. The will of the Father was for Him to assist in “[bringing] to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” by becoming our “advocate with the Father.” Hence, “though he were a Son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered; and being made perfect, he became the author of eternal salvation unto all them that obey him.”
“And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind. …
“And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death … and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, … that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.
“… The Son of God suffereth according to the flesh that he might take upon him the sins of his people, that he might blot out their transgressions according to the power of his deliverance.”

I would like to share a simple experience that illustrates the struggle we sometimes have to embrace the personal nature of the Lord’s Atonement.

Years ago, at the invitation of my file leader, I read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover and marked the verses that referenced the Lord’s Atonement. My leader also invited me to prepare a one-page summary of what I learned. I said to myself, “One page? Sure, that is easy.” To my surprise, however, I found the task to be extremely difficult, and I failed.

I have since realized that I failed because I missed the mark and had incorrect assumptions. First, I expected the summary to be inspiring to everyone. The summary was meant for me and not for anyone else. It was meant to capture my feelings and emotions about the Savior and what He has done for me so that every time I read it, it will bring to the surface wonderful, poignant, and personal spiritual experiences.
Second, I expected the summary to be grand and elaborate and contain big words and phrases. It was never about big words. It was meant to be a clear and simple declaration of conviction. “For my soul delighteth in plainness; for after this manner doth the Lord God work among the children of men. For the Lord God giveth light unto the understanding.”
Third, I expected it to be perfect, a summary to end all summaries—a final summary that one cannot and should not add to—instead of a work in progress to which I can add a word here or a phrase there as my understanding of Jesus Christ’s Atonement increases.

As a young man, I learned a lot from my conversations with my bishop. During those tender years, I learned to love these words from a favorite hymn:
I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me,
Confused at the grace that so fully he proffers me.
I tremble to know that for me he was crucified,
That for me, a sinner, he suffered, he bled and died.
Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me
Enough to die for me!
Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!

The prophet Moroni invited us: “And now, I would commend you to seek this Jesus of whom the prophets and apostles have written.”
President Russell M. Nelson promised that “if [we] proceed to learn all [we] can about Jesus Christ, … [our] ability to turn away from sin will increase. [Our] desire to keep the commandments will soar.”
On this Easter Sunday, just as the Savior came forth from His stone grave, may we awake from our spiritual slumber and rise above the clouds of doubt, the clutches of fear, the intoxication of pride, and the lull of complacency. Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father live. I testify of Their perfect love for us. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Several respondents felt society’s emphasis on personal appearance could lead to a form of idolatry. While a clean and healthy body is important, some people go to extraordinary lengths to emulate the beautiful men and women who smile from advertisements in magazines, in newspapers, and on television. Our society too often equates personal happiness with its definition of personal beauty. Trying unsuccessfully to emulate these unrealistic images, many people are constantly discontented. One of my students shared the following story:
“I had just moved away from my high school, where I was involved in everything. At my new school, I felt I was nobody. I knew no one, and no one knew me. I desperately wanted to be included.
“As I observed the popular crowd, I noticed that the girls who received attention were skinny and beautiful. Furthermore, slender girls graced the covers of magazines, billboards, and television screens. I looked at my body and realized it was not like theirs. I decided that the only way to gain back the popularity I had lost when I moved was to be skinny. So I began to diet.
“I was trying to lose only a few kilograms, but then I read a magazine article discussing qualities the men in the article looked for in women. The best-looking guy said, ‘A girl can never be too skinny.’ I concluded that in order for the guy I was interested in to pursue me, I had to be skinnier. I was still not associating with the popular crowd and did not know many people. Obviously, I was not thin enough.
“I continued to diet and exercise but still did not achieve the acceptance I wanted. Finally, after five months of starvation and depression, I was hospitalized, weighing only 40 kilograms.
“I was deceived. Being skinny does not bring happiness. Now I realize that happiness accompanies spiritual growth and comes from within. When one’s only focus is worldly popularity, it is difficult to progress spiritually. I have found that true happiness is obtained only through striving to please the Lord.”

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Youth Dance
Come have some fun at the dance this Saturday! Remember, no saying no—always say yes when someone asks you to dance!
I’m excited for the dance, but For the Strength of Youth says that agency is the ability to choose and act for yourself. What if I just don’t feel like dancing with someone? Don’t I get to choose whether to say yes or no?
You should always be kind, but I think it’s your right to choose. Let’s talk to the leaders about this rule.
Thanks for letting us know how you feel. You’re right. It’s your choice. We understand not everyone will always feel comfortable dancing, but they still want to come.
Hey, will you dance with me?
Thanks, but I just don’t feel like dancing right now.
Oh, OK.
I’m not trying that again!
What about her?
Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask!
“Heavenly Father has given you agency, the ability to … act for yourself.”
For the Strength of Youth (2011), 2.

At the top of Mr. Gellért, high above the magnificent city of Budapest, Hungary, two sister missionaries search for a secluded spot in a grove of trees where they can be alone and unobserved.
They open their scriptures and bring out a typewritten copy of a prayer—the apostolic blessing, newly translated into the Hungarian language, that Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve pronounced on Hungary in April 1987. It was here on Mt. Gellért—overlooking the Danube River, with the hills of Buda on one side and the plains of Pest on the other—that Elder Nelson originally gave this prayer, asking the Lord to pour out his blessings upon the nation and its people. Now, kneeling reverently among the trees, the sisters quietly review the prayer aloud in their own tongue. Overhead, a warm breeze gently stirs the leaves, and the bright sun shines in a cloudless sky. For a few moments, the sisters are enveloped in a spirit of warmth and peace.

When Sister Meha and I were completing our degrees, we looked forward to graduating and moving on. We enjoyed living in M building at TVA and attending our married student ward. We loved our neighbors and friends. Like some of you families here we were very busy with a heavy class load, work at PCC, BYU-Hawaii stake callings and very little time for fun. We were anxious to finish and start our lives as graduates. In our final year, I was offered a teaching position at the Church College of New Zealand. Some of you here either attended CCNZ or have family members who did - at least until the school closed at the end of 2009. The job offer was attractive. CES offered to pay our moving expenses and provide housing for us in Temple View. We made the decision a matter of prayer and fasting. Realizing that our prayers had been answered, we were able to fulfill my commitment to return home to serve. We learned that returning to New Zealand was an act of faith, but we had seen other couples do this, and their example gave us confidence that all would work out well if we exercised faith and did our part.

One way to overcome difficulties is by serving the Lord. Service has connected me with the Lord and helped me listen to His voice and follow Him.
This past year, we had an FSY conference, and although I couldn’t attend in person, the couple directing the session invited me to make a video sharing my testimony.
In my video I shared about how no matter what is happening in my life, I have the desire to do my part and serve others. I received 571 letters from youth who saw my video and were encouraged.

“Mais oui, Maman (Of course, Mama)!” Louis said. “First I will take the socks you knitted to Monsieur Dubois, then I will meet Pierre and Henri.” Louis glanced at the clock. He still had plenty of time. The puppet show did not start for another hour.
“Voici (Here)!” His mother handed Louis a small, brightly wrapped package. “And remember to wish Monsieur Dubois Joyeux Noël (Merry Christmas) and invite him again to have Christmas dinner with us.”
“He will not come, Maman. He will just smile and say that Christmas is a time for families as he does every year.”
“Dommage (Too bad)! Nothing is as sad as being old and alone at Christmastime. I do wish we could make him understand that our Christmas would be happier if we could share it with him.”
Louis nodded politely, though he did not think that he would be any happier if Monsieur Dubois came for Christmas. Christmas was perfect for Louis, just as it was.
“Hurry home as soon as the show is over, Louis. Grandpère (Grandfather) will be arriving soon.”
Louis grinned excitedly. “Do you think that Grandpère has finished my music box?”
“Perhaps,” his mother answered, “but do not ask him. He is always busy, and making a music box takes a long time.”
Louis was very proud of his grandfather, a fine craftsman who owned a shop in the city, where he repaired watches and clocks. In his spare time he had been making a music box for Louis, one that would play the French national anthem, “La Marseillaise.”
Louis was still thinking of the music box as he walked down the village street. He paused for a moment before the patisserie (pastry shop) and admired the special cakes in the window. They were shaped like yule logs and covered with mouth-watering chocolate frosting.
“Allons (C’mon), Louis!” Henri called from down the street. “You’re late. It’s almost time for the show to start. Pierre has gone ahead to hold seats for us.”
Louis ran to join Henri. “First I must take this gift to Monsieur Dubois. Come with me, Henri. It’s not far.”
Henri frowned. “Pierre will not be able to hold our seats much longer. Can’t you take the gift after the show?”
Louis hesitated a moment. “Oui, en effet (Yes, of course),” he agreed, hastily stuffing the package into his pocket.
The boys hurried down the street to the hall that had been rented by a traveling puppet show. They were glad that they had come when they did, because the room was already crowded. Pierre motioned to them, and Henri and Louis hurried to the seats that he had saved. In a few moments the small building rocked with merriment as the children followed the antics of Punch, or Guignol, as they called the puppet.
When the show was over, the children did not linger as was their custom. Christmas Eve was a special time, and they were all eager to get home.
Outside, Louis talked for just a moment with Henri and Pierre. Then he remembered Monsieur Dubois and felt in his pocket. His eyes widened in distress. “The gift for Monsieur Dubois is gone!” he cried. Louis ran back inside the hall, followed by his friends. They searched the hall, looking up and down the aisles and beneath the seats. The package was not there.
“Maman will be angry and disappointed in me!” Louis said.
“If you do not tell her, perhaps she will never find out,” said Henri hopefully.
“I’m sure that she will ask me,” Louis said sadly.
When Louis got home, Grandpère had just arrived from the city, and Maman was smiling and bustling about. Louis’s heart rose. He was lucky; he had only to remain silent. Maman was much too busy now to ask him about Monsieur Dubois.
His grandfather placed a hand on Louis’s shoulder. “Ah, how you have grown, mon petit (my little one)!” His dark eyes twinkled. “I have a surprise for you.”
“The music box!” Louis cried.
“Close your eyes,” Grandpère said.
Louis obeyed, smiling.
“Now!” Grandpère cried.
“La Marseillaise” tinkled and chimed from a small, beautifully carved music box, and—wonder of wonders—two tiny soldiers moved in a slow circle on top of the box.
Louis clapped his hands. “It’s wonderful, Grandpère! I have never had so fine a gift.”
Grandpère’s eyes were bright. “And without you, my grandson, and your mother and father, I would be a lonely old man.”
Louis swallowed uncomfortably, for suddenly he saw the face of Monsieur Dubois, who had no one, no one at all. All that evening he could not get the thought of the lonely old man out of his mind—not even when he placed his shoes before the fireplace so that Père Noël (Father Christmas) could find them. And when Louis awakened before daylight on Christmas morning, his first thoughts were of Monsieur Dubois. His heart was heavy. Even the music box on the table beside his bed did not help.
Suddenly Louis knew what he must do. He must take Monsieur Dubois a gift, a very fine gift, so that the old man would know that he was not forgotten at Christmas. He must go at once and be back before his parents and grandfather awakened.
As he dressed, Louis forced back a twinge of sadness. The music box was the only gift that he had that was fine enough for Monsieur Dubois.
It was still dark outside, and Louis had to ring several times before Monsieur Dubois opened the door.
“Joyeux Noël, Louis!” Monsieur Dubois greeted him. “Entre! Entre (Come in! Come in)! You are early this morning.”
“Joyeux Noël, Monsieur.” Louis smiled. “I—I was supposed to bring your gift yesterday, but I have brought it for you today, instead.”
Louis wound the music box and placed it on the table. He stood back, listening to the tinkling music and watching the proud little soldiers. “Is it not beautiful?”
“Oui, Louis, very beautiful.” Monsieur Dubois’s eyes were thoughtful. “Now tell me, Louis, why did you bring me one of your gifts?”
Louis hung his head.
“Come, Louis,” Monsieur Dubois insisted, smiling kindly.
Before he realized it, Louis poured out the whole story. “I—I’m sorry, Monsieur,” he finished. “I hoped that the music box was a fine enough gift to make up for my carelessness.”
“It is the finest gift that I have ever received, Louis,” Monsieur Dubois said softly. “But I want you to keep it for me. Each Christmas bring it here, and we will play it together.”
Louis’s face cleared. “You are not angry, Monsieur?”
“Non, Louis. I am not angry.”
“And you will have Christmas dinner with us? Please, Monsieur!” Louis pleaded. “Our Christmas will be happier if we can share it with you,” Louis said, repeating his mother’s words. And, strangely, they were no longer just words. Now he understood them. Monsieur Dubois seemed to understand, too, for his face brightened like a Christmas candle.
“Wait for me, Louis,” he cried. “I will put on my finest suit.” Then Monsieur Dubois laughed. “Today, Louis, you and I have both learned something important. We have learned the real meaning of Christmas, n’est-ce pas (isn’t that so)?”

6. Soon after arriving home from World War II, I had “promises to keep” (Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” in The Poetry of Robert Frost, ed. Edward Connery Lathem [1969], 225)—meaning going on a mission now. I grew tired of waiting for the bishop. And in some early ark-steadying, I went to the bishop’s home and said I had saved the money and wanted to go, so let’s “get this show on the road.” The good bishop hesitated, and then said he’d been meaning to ask me about going.
Years later, I would learn from that bishop’s devoted ward clerk that the bishop had felt I needed a little more time with my family after having been away so far and for a tenth of my life. Hearing this, I chastised myself for having been too judgmental. (See Bruce C. Hafen, A Disciple’s Life: The Biography of Neal A. Maxwell [2002], 129–30.)

Now I add this does not represent the surrender of his free agency. Brother Maeser in spite of his obedience was very vigorous in the expression of his feelings. Another incident will illustrate.

During his labors in England he met a very wealthy and well-educated man who became very much interested and impressed with Brother Maeser and invited him to bring some of the missionaries to have dinner with him at the hotel. The table manners of the elders were so annoying to Brother Maeser that he said later: “I will go through poverty, I will suffer persecution, I will go to hell with the elders, but I will not go to dinner with them again.”

On a recent trip to Hermanus, South Africa, I learned the importance of agency. This small coastal town is about a 90-minute drive from Cape Town and is one of the many beautiful beach towns along the coast. The waves were rolling in as I headed down to the beach to surf with a friend.
Once we had off-loaded the surfboards, I stood in the warm white sand and stared at the beach, squinting at the sun in disbelief. The lifeguard had already put up the swimming zone flags, but they were less than 50 meters (165 feet) apart! The beach was several hundred meters long, and all the good waves were outside the swimming zone. How was anybody supposed to swim between those two red-and-yellow striped flags? Was he just being lazy because he didn’t want to watch all the way down the beach?
My friend and I are pretty good swimmers, so we decided to head out to the right of the flagged area. As I walked out through the white water, I could feel the strong pull of the water washing past my legs, but I could still stand against the current, so I kept going. When I was in deep enough, I got on my board and paddled out to the unbroken swells. The waves kept coming, and we surfed for a while, enjoying catching the waves and watching each other catch the waves.
I turned around to look at the beach and suddenly noticed that I was rapidly drifting away from where I had started—the flags were far away! What I didn’t know about and couldn’t see was a large sandbar on the ocean floor, and as the tide was coming in, the water was washing over the sides of the sandbar, creating a powerful wash on both sides of the flagged area. The lifeguard knew that; he had been sitting there the whole day watching the water, so he knew where it was safe to swim.
I turned my board around and began paddling back toward the swimming zone. I paddled my hardest, but there was no way I could swim against the strong current. I was drifting farther out to sea! Panicking, I got off my board and tried to walk. My feet just touched the ocean floor, and I felt my toes dragging in the sand beneath. I could not hold myself against the thousands of tons of water moving past me, so I had to get back on my board. I lay there, powerless and drifting. I waved to my friend to help, but he was caught by the same current.
“Would the lifeguard still rescue me, even though I had ignored his warning?” I wondered. I had made the decision to swim in the no-swim zone and now had to accept the consequence—loss of control. I was being pulled by forces much stronger than I was. My only hope was to catch a wave back to the beach before I was pulled into the sharp rocks at the end of the beach. Eventually, a wave came, and I managed to ride it back to shore as did my friend.
We sheepishly walked back to the swimming zone and enjoyed the rest of the day surfing between the flags. Each time one of us began drifting too close to the edge of the swimming zone, we would warn each other to come back.

Many years ago, when I was on my mission, my companion and I had resolved to talk to everyone about the gospel. To open our mouths as the scriptures command. [20] One day, on the outskirts of the small Japanese town of Komatsu, we rode past a man on his bicycle. Although we had said we would talk to everyone, I had not thought to ride parallel to this man and yell out to him in Japanese, “Hello, we are missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” We passed by him without speaking to him. After completing a follow-up visit with a friend of the Church we continued down the same road to visit a member family that lived some distance away. We again passed by the same man on the bicycle without speaking to him. We were someway further down the road, and now in the middle of nowhere, with rice paddy fields everywhere when my companion, who was also my trainer, suddenly came to a complete stop. He said to me, did you see that man back there? I queried who he meant. By now we were so far ahead of the cyclist we could not even see him. He said we passed that man on the bicycle twice and I have felt that we need to speak to him. The Lord wants us to speak to him. I was nervous as we waited on the side of the road for this man, who had come into view on the long stretch of road, to approach us. But as he approached us, he had a smile on his face. We introduced ourselves as missionaries for the Church. He said, "Oh, I know who you are." He told us that many years earlier he had been taught as a young man and had wanted to join the Church but had lived with his parents who had not wanted him to do so. He wanted to be taught again. Only a short while later, he was baptised a member of the Church.

I learnt a great lesson that day from my missionary companion. He knew how to speak the language of the Spirit. He knew how to hear the voice of the Lord and be an instrument in the hands of God. When we learn how to speak the language of the Spirit, our lives are blessed, and God enables us to be instruments in His hands in blessing the lives of others.

When I was a teenager, I lived in Japan for a few months without my family. One night I felt very worried. I had a lot of big questions, and I was nervous. I knelt by my bed and prayed. I said the words out loud instead of in my mind. I poured out my worries to Heavenly Father.
All of a sudden a wonderful feeling came. My worries disappeared. The Holy Ghost filled the whole room with peace. I knew that peace was a gift from my Heavenly Father. I felt that He really did love me and that He wanted me to be happy.

Let me relate a story to illustrate.
A certain man, well up on the ladder of success, had great prospects for a very bright future. Then one day at a businessmen’s luncheon he decided that social drinking would make him more popular and successful. He soon began looking forward to the cocktail hours, and then found they didn’t come often enough. Finally he became an alcoholic, lost his job, his wife, and his friends. Because of the wrong choice at a moment of decision, he had lost everything he once so hopefully and diligently set out to accomplish.

“Why don’t you ever come with us?” the girl shouted. “Don’t you want to be a part of our group?”
It was the end of spring, and school was almost out. During breaks we played football outside, and I was the goalkeeper. As goalkeeper I was used to dodging and blocking oncoming attacks from the field. However, this game was different because I had to dodge and block attacks coming from the sidelines too.
In between the offensive assaults of the other team, I was being interrogated by a couple of girls in my class who were standing on the side of the field. To avoid their questioning, I would have welcomed the other team over for a free shooting contest, but I was not having much luck that day.
“So why don’t you ever come to our parties?” she continued. “Don’t you want to have a little fun?”
“A little fun!” I thought. Being at a party with my classmates, playing silly games, and feeling forced into uncomfortable situations was not my idea of fun. I’d rather stay at home.
“We’re all trying to get to know one another, and you are never there,” came another attack from the sideline.
“That’s right!” I said. And I would have explained why if I felt she and the others really wanted to understand. But I doubted it. How could they? I was the only Latter-day Saint in my school, and none of them understood much about the Church or its standards.
“Don’t you like any of the girls in our class?” she asked.
“It’s not about not liking them,” I said. “I’d just feel uncomfortable.”
“But why?” she poked.
My team had just lost the ball, and all the guys were now running in my direction.
“Why would you feel uncomfortable?” she poked again.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as my eyes focused on the approaching ball. Her voice was the only thing I heard, and the constant “why,” “why” kept echoing in my head. My opponent was clear for the shot, and I could see that the ball was going to hit me hard. But I was ready. He kicked the ball, which bounced off my hands with a loud slap. “Yes! Another assault successfully frustrated,” I thought, grinning. I grabbed the ball and threw it down the field to my teammates and then turned to face my other opponents.
“So?” she said.
My heart was still racing from the excitement of the game. “The reason I’m not coming to your parties is …” I started, then paused, thinking for a moment.
“Is?” she repeated a little anxiously.
I looked down the field again to see the opposition approaching fast. My heart picked up a couple of beats, and I knew I had to finish what I started to say. “Is because I am saving myself for someone special!” I blurted out.
“What!” she exclaimed.
My opponents were upon me, and my attention was again fixed on the game. The ball whistled through the air, penetrating my defenses. The other team cheered, while the girls stood there laughing.
“Saving yourself for someone,” she said, giggling. “So what is her name?”
I felt embarrassed. Although I didn’t have anyone special in mind, I still knew that one day I would meet my future wife, and I needed to be worthy to take her to the temple. That’s why I didn’t go to their parties.
My hands still tingled and my heart continued to race as I walked home later, yet there was a slight grin on my face. I might have suffered humiliation on the field that day; however, I walked away feeling victorious.

We had a Relief Society president in my ward who would often pray and ask, “Father, help me to be an answer to someone else’s prayer today.” Then, as she was going into work or coming home, she would drive around the ward enlisting the Spirit’s prompting to determine if there was a sister who needed her help. Numerous times as she was driving by a sister’s home or thinking of a particular sister, the Spirit would prompt her to stop by, bring dinner, or ask to watch the sister’s children. That Relief Society president knew what it meant to follow the promptings of the Spirit and be an answer to someone else’s prayer. That is Christlike service.

The first time I walked into my new Relief Society, I wanted to turn around and run! I didn’t know anyone. I didn’t see anyone my age. And I definitely didn’t feel like I belonged.
Just a few months earlier, I was in a married student ward in Hawaii, USA, with my husband, Johnny, where most of us were newly married, navigating school, and thinking about starting families. Before that, I was in a student YSA ward that felt like an extension of Young Women. We were all unmarried, childless students, so it was easy to relate, make friends, and serve.
But that season of comfort and similarity didn’t last forever.
After graduating, Johnny and I moved back to the mainland and began attending a family ward. And wow—did Relief Society feel like a culture shock! Suddenly I was surrounded by sisters ages 18 to 98: single, married, divorced, widowed; some with children, some without; some working, studying, raising kids, or retired, and everything in between.
I wasn’t sure where I fit in.
A few weeks in, I got a ministering assignment, and I didn’t feel I had much in common with the sisters I was asked to serve or serve with.
Still, I tried to show up. At first I would send them quick texts or have some post-church chats, mostly just so I could say that I’d contacted them. But my ministering companion was intentional and kind. One day, she suggested we take each of our sisters out for ice cream. I was hesitant. I’m introverted and tend to be quiet around people I don’t know well. But I do love ice cream, so I agreed.
That weekend, my van broke down. The repairs would cost more than the van was worth. It was time to buy a new car. Johnny and I had been saving and were prepared, but it still felt like a lot. So, after a 10-hour workday and a stressful evening of test-driving cars, I really didn’t feel like meeting anyone, even for ice cream.
But I showed up anyway, late and exhausted.
To my surprise, the sisters were thrilled to see me. We ended up talking for hours. I couldn’t relate to their toddler potty-training stories, but I realized we had more in common than I thought. One sister had also been dealing with car trouble, and we bonded over the frustration.
That night wasn’t just about ministering. It showed me what Relief Society is meant to be: a spiritual community where covenant women lift, strengthen, and love each other as disciples of Christ.