Gospel Story Finder

We have received many letters from young women who are seriously trying to stand as a witness and say what He would say and do what He would do.
Cathy wrote a letter telling about a “good Samaritan” named Michelle. Cathy had been hospitalized much longer than she had expected to be. Some friends dwindled away, busy in their own lives; but Michelle came often and brought fun and cheer. She decorated the dreary hospital room with Mormonad posters, balloons, and other paraphernalia. One day when Cathy was particularly low, Michelle thought to bring her scriptures. Cathy said: “Bringing her scriptures and reading them to me made me want what she had. I wanted to love the scriptures like Michelle does. Without that act of kindness and caring from Michelle, my testimony wouldn’t be what it is today.”

By staying close to the Lord, I reestablished confidence in myself and could feel the influence of the Holy Ghost in my life. This influence soon led me to consider serving a mission. I know some people thought my desire foolish, but when I spoke with the branch president, he gave me the courage I needed. To prepare myself, I decided to read the Book of Mormon in its entirety—something I had not yet accomplished in my 12 years as a member.
However, my poor memory posed a real challenge. After starting with 1 Nephi at least 10 times and not being able to remember a thing I had read, I knew I needed a different approach. I prayed to find a solution, and soon a method entered my mind: I would write a summary of each chapter as I read it.
I bought a notebook and read the first chapter of 1 Nephi. Since I had only a vague idea of what I had just read, I read the chapter again. Only then was I able to summarize in my notebook the main ideas in that chapter.
Prayerfully, I moved on. After completing 1 Nephi, I found I no longer had to read each chapter twice; once was enough to write a good summary. I read the entire Book of Mormon this way. When I finished, I was left with a strong spiritual witness that the book is true, and I could also testify that the Lord strengthens us if we turn to Him.

In 1974 when our family moved to South America we were supposed to go directly to Argentina, but our government thought we would do better with our large, young family in Brazil where it was more politically secure. We eventually were blessed to move to Argentina as it became more stable. This was initially Cal’s hope as he had served a mission there as a young man.
Years and years later we saw there was a greater plan for the Clegg’s. In Brazil we learned to speak Portuguese. We learned about a new and developing church. All of these experiences and more were brought to the mission field in 1996 when we were called to serve as Mission President and wife. Our unexpected stop in Brazil for two years was a disappointment at first, but provided some invaluable experiences and lasting friendships.
If you have a detour or two that are not in your plan, it just might be in someone else’s plan to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of men, which is God’s purpose. How great will be your peace when you see God can make a palace out of the little cottage you thought you were building.[16]

Elder Robert D. Hales of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles reminds us how we can have spiritual light: “When I was a boy, I used to ride my bicycle home from basketball practice at night. I would connect a small pear-shaped generator to my bicycle tire. Then as I pedaled, the tire would turn a tiny rotor, which produced … a single, welcome beam of light. … I learned quickly that if I stopped pedaling my bicycle, the light would go out. I also learned that when I was ‘anxiously engaged’ in pedaling, the light would become brighter and the darkness in front of me would be [forced away].”
Elder Hales explains that “spiritual light comes from daily spiritual pedaling. It comes from praying, studying the scriptures, fasting, and serving—from living the gospel and obeying the commandments” (“Out of Darkness into His Marvelous Light,” Liahona, July 2002, 78).

A true story from the USA.
Gracie finished her last bite of pancakes, put her dishes in the sink, and grabbed her backpack.
“Time for family prayer,” Dad said.
Everyone knelt in the living room. Gracie’s twin brother, George, said the prayer. “Please help us have a good day at school,” he said. “And please bless Mom that she will be OK. Please bless the doctors to know how to help her.”
Gracie’s mom had a brain tumor. She would need to have surgery. The doctors were hopeful that everything would be OK, but they couldn’t know for sure.
After the prayer, Mom gave everyone a hug. “I’m going to the doctor again today. Hopefully we can get more answers.”
What if Mom dies and I can’t talk to her anymore? Gracie wondered. She was so scared. She couldn’t imagine not being able to hug Mom or see her after school.
That day, Gracie went to class, recess, and lunch just like normal. But she kept thinking about Mom. When she felt scared, she thought about her favorite Primary song. Families can be together forever through Heavenly Father’s plan, she sang in her mind.
When they got home from school, Gracie and George ran inside and gave Mom a big hug. “How was your appointment?” Gracie asked.
“It went well,” said Mom. “We still don’t know a lot. I have a few more appointments next week before the surgery.”
Gracie was glad to see her mom. But she was still worried.
A few days later, the doorbell rang. When Mom opened the door, Gracie heard singing.
She stood with Mom on the doorstep and looked out at a crowd of family friends from church and school. They were singing Primary songs. “We’ve been thinking of you and wanted to bring some comfort,” one of them said. Then they started singing again.
George came to the door too. He turned to Gracie. “Let’s sing with them!”
Gracie and George grabbed their coats and ran outside to join the others. They sang as loud as they could:
Gracie saw Mom wipe away tears. Her little sister, Rosie, clung to Mom’s legs and listened too.
A peaceful feeling spread over Gracie. She was still worried about Mom. But she knew that Jesus Christ loved them. He was a God of miracles. And somehow, Gracie knew things would be OK.
Gracie’s mom had the surgery and is doing well. Their family is grateful that because of Heavenly Father’s perfect plan, they can find peace and hope no matter what.

For Scout camp this summer, we took our Scouts to Flaming Gorge. One day we rafted the Green River below Flaming Gorge Dam. They were letting extra water out of the dam, so the currents in the river were impressive. Each raft had a guide who told us how and when to stroke—“forward three,” “left four,” “back two.” We responded quickly with the required strokes. In this way the guide directed us to currents in the river in which we could enjoy the rapids as well as safety.

My second point is, the Holy Spirit has the power to guide. A 15-year-old girl felt that she needed to find new friends. Have you ever felt that way? She writes, “Now, I don’t know if you have ever had to change friends, but it honestly was the hardest thing I have ever had to do.” She decided to put her problem in the hands of the Lord, and she also counseled with her parents. She says that after several months “she wanted to just give up.” One afternoon she was casually talking to her seminary teacher, and she confided her problem to him. Then he said, “I really don’t know why I am asking you this, but do you happen to know these girls?” This girl answered with a yes. And then he said, “Have you ever thought about being friends with them?”

“I told him that there was no way that I could fit in with them. He then asked me if he could talk to one of the girls. I decided I would let him, if he promised not to embarrass me.

“Well, that next day I received a phone call from one of the girls. Now, you have to understand that this girl was on student council, and I hate to use the term, but she was ‘extremely popular.’ She asked if I would like to go to the basketball game with her that night. That night was one of the funnest, most peaceful nights of my life. The next day at school, she introduced me to two other girls. We all instantly became friends. This event has changed me.”

She concludes by saying, “I don’t know about you, but I would much rather have the Lord, who knows the outcome of everything, direct my life than me, who just sees things as they are at the time. He is right by our side, walking us through life, even when we feel so alone” (letter on file in the Young Women office).

Jeremy Carver (9) was born in northern Virginia. He played soccer and baseball there and explored the nearby fields and beaver pond. And he went with his family on trips to the zoo, to Civil War sites, and to places in Washington, D.C.
Then Jeremy and his family left their house in the Virginia countryside and moved to an apartment on the nineteenth floor of a skyscraper in Hong Kong, a British dependency leased from the People’s Republic of China. Hong Kong is a huge international trade center, and from the patio of his home, Jeremy can overlook the beautiful harbor there.
Jeremy soon had favorite plant, fruit, pet, and juice vendors in his new neighborhood. They and other people he meets are fascinated by his hair because it is so much lighter than theirs. About 98 percent of the people in Hong Kong are Chinese, and Jeremy got to be in an ice-cream commercial when a foreign child was needed in it.
One trip was a ferry ride to a nearby island where a Buddhist monastery is built on the top of a mountain. Other trips have included a drive to the farms and small villages near the Chinese border. But whether it’s a family-home-evening walk in the neighborhood or a longer excursion, Jeremy loves to meet the people of Hong Kong and have them as his friends.

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

A story is told of a young university student who struggled with a challenging class, so he hired a tutor to help him. Near the end of the course, the professor announced that students could bring to the final exam one piece of paper on which they could place anything they wanted. Some students prepared by making tiny notes with information from lectures and textbooks, readable only by using a magnifying glass. But the young man arrived at the final exam with a blank sheet of paper and a stranger. When the professor questioned him, the young man replied, “You said I could bring one piece of paper with anything on it.” He then placed the paper on the floor next to his desk and said, “I’d like my tutor to stand on my piece of paper.”

As a young college student, fifty years ago, my member friend was bold. She asked me directly the golden questions: “What do you know about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints? Would you like to know more?” As I learned, understood, and gained a testimony of the gospel, I wanted to share it with my family—even though I knew that many of them might not be receptive. And indeed, they were not! But my desire remains strong to be bold. I am constantly thinking of ways I can boldly but gently invite them to come unto Christ.

Accept help from others. The next important point is to be willing to ask for help from those around you. Sometimes help comes from unexpected sources. A few years ago I stood in line in Chicago waiting to put my baggage on a plane. Behind me was an older man. After a few minutes he said to me, “Where are you going?” I said that I was heading for Salt Lake City. He said, “I’m going there too. Are you a Mormon?” I responded by saying I was. He said that he had been a Latter-day Saint all his life and had prepared himself finally to go to the temple. While waiting for the plane, he opened his suitcase to show me all the missionary pictures that he had collected through the years. After some minutes, we were on our way and had a wonderful talk as we flew toward Utah. Upon arrival, we left the plane quickly. I made sure he knew where he was going and said good-bye.

Some weeks later I received this card in the mail: “Dear Brother Christensen, I lost your address and then found it. So I’m writing you a card. When I met you in Chicago, it was a prayer answered. I never travel anywhere. I wanted to be with someone. I have thought of you many times. I really enjoyed myself in Salt Lake City at the temple. Hope to see you someday. Thanks many times for the help you were to me.” I wasn’t planning to be useful that day, but I’m grateful for this brother who sought for extra help and I was nearby to assist.

I'd like to begin by sharing an experience I had one morning during the time my wife and I were serving in the London England Mission. A former business associate and long-time friend was passing through London, and I suggested we get together for breakfast. We had a meaningful visit where I was able to tell him about my assignment, the missionary program, and the gospel, more than I'd ever been able to share during our previous business meetings.

In the course of our exchange, he shared that he had not been brought up in a church but had long admired the devotion of those he'd known and worked with who were members of the LDS church. Towards the end of our meeting, he focused his gaze on my missionary tag, with its emphasis on the name Jesus Christ and commented thoughtfully, "That must be quite an honor and responsibility to bear that name each day." I confirmed that I could think of nothing better than to be recognized as a devoted follower of Jesus Christ.

I saw clearly then, and I propose to you now, that the blessings of being a devoted disciple are not just the blessings of eternity but also the blessings of a clear path and a straightforward purpose in dealing with the challenges and opportunities of mortality.

Tory swung her legs back and forth under her chair. Her stomach growled. She loved going to her new church, but sometimes she got a little hungry by the end.
“What can we do to follow Jesus?” Sister Jameson asked the class.
Tory put her feet on the floor. She sat up straight. I want to follow Jesus! she thought.
Erica raised her hand. “We can read the scriptures.”
“That’s a great idea. Our stake president just asked us to read the Book of Mormon every day,” Sister Jameson said. “Who will do that?”
Everyone raised their hands high. Everyone except Tory. She raised her hand only halfway.
Tory was a new member of the Church—and the only member in her family. She had first learned about the Church when her friend Erica invited her to Primary.
Tory still had a hard time reading the Book of Mormon on her own. It had lots of funny names in it, like Teancum and Anti-Nephi-Lehies.
“I’m not sure if I can,” Tory told Erica.
“I’ll help you!” Erica said. “You can come to my house before school. My family reads scriptures right after breakfast. Then we can walk to school together.”
“Thanks!” Tory said. She was glad that Erica lived so close.
Dad said it was OK, so every morning Tory went to Erica’s house before school. They read the Book of Mormon with Erica’s family. Tory even tried reading by herself on the weekends.
But then one day in soccer practice, Tory twisted her ankle. After a trip to the doctor, Mom helped Tory to the couch so she could rest. Then Tory called Erica with the bad news.
“I hurt my ankle at soccer today. I have to use crutches for two weeks! And my mom has to drive me to school.” Tory swallowed. Her eyes stung a little bit. “I can’t come over to read scriptures anymore.”
“Oh no! I’m so sorry,” Erica said.
“I wish I could keep reading the Book of Mormon with your family.” Tory frowned at her foot. It was wrapped in white, sticky tape and propped on a chair in front of her.
Erica was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “I have an idea—a way we can keep reading together!”
“How?”
“Stay by the computer before school tomorrow. You’ll see!”
The next morning Tory got ready for school as fast as she could. But her ankle made it tricky. She got out her favorite green socks. But they wouldn’t even fit on her foot! Tory hobbled to the living room and plopped into the chair by the computer.
The computer made a beeping sound. It was a video call from Erica’s family! Tory answered, and a blurry screen came up. Erica’s face appeared.
“We’re ready!” Erica grinned. “Now you can still read with us every morning.”
Tory opened her scriptures. She followed along as they read 1 Nephi 3:7: “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded.” She smiled. She was doing what the Lord had commanded too!

The hot sun beat down on Bhutto’s shoulders as he crossed a dry riverbed. He found his father on the other side, sitting beneath a baobab tree, making a bow to be used for hunting. Without saying a word, Bhutto knelt by his father’s side and watched him work. First his father poured sand over a large leaf. Then he wrapped the leaf around the bow and rubbed it up and down. Slowly the rough wooden surface of the bow became smoother.
“It is a hot day for one so young to be walking about,” said Bhutto’s father.
“I am not so young,” Bhutto quickly answered. “I am almost twelve years old.”
“Ah.” His father smiled. “So you are. But why have you come looking for me, Bhutto?”
Bhutto took a deep breath and rocked back and forth on his heels. “I have come to ask you if I may begin hunting alone.”
Bhutto’s father stopped working and looked at Bhutto. “You are a good hunter. You have worked hard to learn how to hunt. Now you must learn when to hunt.”
“And how will I learn this?”
“By hearing a story,” answered his father. “Listen. Many years ago, in the direction from which the sun awakens each day, there lived a people here in Africa called the Mazumbas.”
Bhutto stopped rocking on his heels and sat down. He did not want to miss a word of his father’s story.
“The Mazumbas were greater hunters than others because the tips of their arrows were sharper and finer than any man could make.”
“How did they make the arrow tips?” asked Bhutto.
“They did not make them,” said Bhutto’s father. “They found them in a secret cave. And because the Mazumbas had such sharp arrow tips, no animal could stand against them.”
“Not even lions?” Bhutto asked.
“Not even lions,” said his father.
“Not even elephants?” Bhutto tried again.
“Not even elephants,” answered his father. “Not even the Great Beasts of the plains.”
Bhutto looked puzzled. “What are the Great Beasts of the plains?”
“The Great Beasts were the hardest of all the animals to slay. They had the eyes of an eagle, the ears of a giraffe, and the swiftness of a gazelle. But even so, the Great Beasts could not hide from the Mazumbas.
“One day, one of the Mazumbas was hunting when he came across the tracks of a Great Beast. For many hours he followed the tracks through grasslands, over hills, and down ravines until they led to the entrance of the secret cave.”
“Where the Mazumbas found their arrow tips,” Bhutto remembered.
“That’s right,” said his father.
“And was the Great Beast inside?”
“Yes, he was. And when the hunter saw the Great Beast, he put an arrow to his bow.”
“Did he kill the Beast?” Bhutto asked excitedly.
“Not right away,” answered his father, “because the Great Beast began to speak.”
Bhutto frowned. “Animals cannot speak.”
“That is true,” Bhutto’s father answered. “But the Great Beasts were not like other animals.”
“What did the Great Beast say?”
“He said, ‘Please do not kill me, great hunter of the Mazumbas. Your people have killed all the Great Beasts except me.’
“But the hunter just laughed and said, ‘If you did not want to be caught, you should not have come into our secret cave.’ And with that, the hunter let the arrow fly.”
Bhutto watched his father string the bow he was making. “Is that the end of your story?” he sadly asked.
“Not quite, Bhutto,” said his father. “When the Beast fell to the earth, a stone rolled from his mouth—a sharp stone, sharper than any a man could make.”
“Then, it was the Great Beasts that made the arrow tips!” Bhutto cried.
“Yes. The Great Beasts went to the secret cave to chew on stones and sharpen their teeth. The arrow tips were what they left behind.”
“But the hunter—he killed the last Beast!”
“Yes, and because of that, the Mazumbas soon used up the last of the very sharp arrow tips. No longer were they the great hunters they had once been.”
Bhutto sat very still and listened to the wind. It howled like a lonely animal at night.
“Here,” said Bhutto’s father, handing him the bow. “I was making this for you.”
Bhutto took the bow from his father and ran his fingers up and down the wood. He turned it over and pulled the string. “Oh, Father, it is a wonderful gift! I shall take very good care of it!”
“And my story? Did you learn anything from it?”
Bhutto was quiet for a long time. He thought about the Mazumbas. He thought about the Great Beasts and how beautiful they must have been. “I have learned to try to choose wisely about when to put an arrow in my bow and to be certain I need what I kill. For every time I take something from the earth, it can never be quite the same again.”
Bhutto’s father looked at him and smiled. “And now,” he said, “you are ready to hunt alone.”

Many years ago during the summer of 1930, when I was 13 years of age, I was with a group of Boy Scouts hiking from Camp Logan to Camp Kiesel on the South Fork of the Ogden River. We had hiked over the Randolph Divide and made our camp at the base of Monte Cristo, where the chief Scout executive of the Ogden Council, S. Dilworth Young, joined us. He was a strong, vigorous man and stood tall and straight. I was soon to learn that he stood tall in many ways and that he exemplified the Scout Oath and the Scout Law.
It was on the afternoon of a beautiful summer day in August, and we had arrived at Monte Cristo a little early. We were busy at our camps making our fires and getting ready for the evening meal. S. Dilworth Young visited each group of boys at their campfires. When he came to our group, he asked us various questions to see how we were faring. One of his questions was most pointed and direct. He asked, “Did you put your fire out at your last campsite?” He then proceeded to tell us how that fire should have been put out. He directed his question to each of the boys in our patrol.
Most of the boys had apparently followed the directions for putting out their fires pretty well, but in my heart I knew that I had not put out my fire as he had specified. I was hoping that he would skip me in the questioning process, but he didn’t. He asked me the question, and I responded, “No sir, I did not put out the fire the way you described.” He then said, “Get your things packed. You and I are going back. We are going to put out that fire.” I said, “Well, it won’t be burning. It was almost out when we left.” He responded, “Well, we are going to make sure, anyway. As Boy Scouts, we are trusted not only to take care of our personal lives, but also to take care of our responsibilities to this beautiful earth and the land in which we live.”
I have never forgotten those words. Right then and there, I knew that S. Dilworth Young was a leader of boys and men. I also knew that he loved nature and that his highest goal in life was to be trusted.
He put on his pack and helped me with mine, and then we both took off back down the trail to our last campsite, which we had left early that morning. We arrived there late at night. He seemed to know right where it was. We came to the place where all of us had camped, and there were various campfire spots with logs that were still smoldering. He had a small bucket that he had brought with him. We found the stream nearby and carried water to the smoldering logs. Then, after each spark had been put out, we covered the logs and the campfire sites with damp earth.
By that time, it was too late to go back to Monte Cristo, so we slept in our sleeping bags there that night, and then we ate breakfast and proceeded back to Monte Cristo the next morning. About halfway back, I was so tired and my muscles ached so badly that it seemed I could go no farther. He took my pack, put it on his back with his own, and helped me the rest of the way into camp. Sometimes I was on his back also as we crossed a rough part of the terrain, or a stream, or some deep brush.
That day I really learned the beauty and the value of the Scout Oath and the Scout Law. Here was a leader who stood tall in my youthful eyes and taught me by example how I should be. He indeed taught me that a leader cannot delegate the power of example.

Another false philosophy that appeals to the Mr. Hyde side of our natures is that peeking into pornography is harmless. This is a terrible deception. Pornography is as addictive as cocaine or any illegal drug. I recently received a heartbreaking letter from an excommunicated man whose soul is filled with sorrow and regret. With his permission, I quote the following from his letter: “I hope that this letter will confirm to any who have doubt that the path of destruction only reaps sorrow and grief and no sin is worth this price.”

He goes on to state: “I have brought grief and sorrow upon myself. Only now do I fully realize the great destruction that I have brought upon myself. No selfish or lustful desire is worth losing your Church membership for. I have brought terrible grief to my wife and two wonderful children. I am grateful for my wife’s great efforts to help me overcome my sins. My wife has been a victim of my sins and had to endure great sorrow and suffering. I long for the day that I can again be a member of the Lord’s Church and for our family to be an eternal family.”

The letter goes on to admit: “My sins are a direct result of my early childhood addiction to pornography. Without a doubt, pornography is addictive and is poison. Had I learned early in my life to apply the power of self-mastery, I would be a member of the Church today.”

When I returned home to the Philippines after my mission, the first thing I wanted to do was meet a worthy priesthood holder whom I could marry in the temple and build a Christ-centered family with.
I thought that finding him would be easy. But now it’s been quite a few years since I returned home, and I have yet to find someone to marry.
I’ve been goal-driven all my life. In high school, I made goals for my future, specifically goals that would help me progress on the covenant path—the only path that will ultimately lead me, and all of us, back to live with Heavenly Father.
I made goals to graduate from seminary and institute, to finish my studies, to get endowed in the temple, to serve a mission, to find a job in line with my degree, and to build an eternal family.
I’ve achieved all those goals apart from one, and despite being proud of all I’ve accomplished, I’ve sometimes felt as though I’ve stopped progressing.
For years I’ve spent so much time searching and praying to find someone to be with for eternity. I’ve always obeyed the commandments, applied the teachings of the prophets and the leaders in my life, and striven to be worthy to enter the temple. So, in frustration, I’ve sometimes wondered why, after trying so hard, I am still unable to reach this one goal and often feel unable to move forward on the covenant path.
What am I lacking?
One night when I was feeling extra discouraged about my marital status and seeming lack of progression, I poured out my feelings to Heavenly Father. I felt stuck, lonely, and lost. As I prayed and pondered, a clear reminder came to me:
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart. …
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths” (Proverbs 3:5–6).
In that moment, I realized that those “paths” included the covenant path.
I was reminded that if I “let God prevail” in my life, as President Russell M. Nelson taught,1 He would direct me toward Christ and grant me spiritual strength, promised blessings, and eternal progression.
Elder Marvin J. Ashton (1915–94) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “Set your goals. … But don’t become frustrated because there are no obvious victories. Remind yourself that striving can be more important than arriving.”2
For so long I had focused only on my hopes for marriage and my “failure” at not achieving that covenant. I had forgotten the significance of the covenants I had made and how those covenants had helped me move toward Christ.
I had forgotten how beautiful my circumstances were. Right now, because I don’t have children or many obligations at home, I have time to develop more skills for the future. I’m able to give a great amount of my time to serving others and ministering to those in my ward. I am able to meet more people and learn from them. I get to spend time improving my relationships with my parents and siblings. And most importantly, I still have plenty of opportunities to continue becoming more like the Savior.
I’ve realized that if I’m still walking on the path that leads me to Jesus Christ, then I’m right where I need to be.
I am moving forward on the covenant path.

Amy and Becca lay wide awake in their beds. Amy counted stars out the window as they appeared one by one in the sky.
Becca sat up. “Amy,” she said, “I can’t sleep.”
“I know,” Amy said. “Me neither.”
“We forgot to say family prayer again tonight,” Becca whispered.
“I know,” Amy said. “Mommy forgot to tell us to brush our teeth too. I guess taking care of baby Eric makes Mommy forget things.”
“Yeah,” Becca agreed. “And Daddy is out of town, so he can’t remind us.”
“I have an idea,” Amy said. “Let’s look out for things that Mommy might forget.”
“OK,” Becca said. “Let’s call ourselves the Lookout Girls.”
“That’s a great name,” Amy said. “The Lookout Girls will start tomorrow!”
The next day the girls woke up early.
Amy jumped out of bed. “Don’t forget we need to make our beds before breakfast,” she said.
“OK,” Becca said.
The girls finished just in time to hear Mommy calling them to breakfast.
“Don’t forget, Becca. We need to wash our hands before we eat,” Amy said.
Amy and Becca washed up and started down the hallway. Amy noticed Becca’s skates on the floor.
“Don’t forget to pick up your skates before someone trips on them,” Amy reminded.
Becca picked up her skates and marched back to her room. “Amy sure is being bossy,” she mumbled.
After breakfast, Amy said, “Don’t forget to take your dishes to the sink, Becca.”
“OK,” Becca said, frowning.
“What’s the matter?” Amy asked. “I’m just trying to help you remember.”
“I know,” Becca said. “But you won’t let me remember anything!”
“I know you remember things,” Amy said. “I just think of them first. But don’t worry. You’ll get a turn.”
When it was time to go to the store, Amy and Becca climbed into the car and buckled their seat belts. Mommy buckled Eric into his car seat.
“Don’t forget to buckle your seat belt, Mommy,” Amy said.
Becca stared out the window.
When Mommy pulled into a parking spot, Amy jumped out of the car and started walking toward the store.
Becca called out, “Wait, Amy. Don’t forget to hold my hand and watch for cars.”
“Oops, I forgot,” Amy said, taking her sister’s hand. “Thanks, Becca. I’m glad you remembered.”
At bedtime, Becca said, “Don’t forget, Mommy. We need to say our family prayer.”
“And we need to brush our teeth,” Amy said.
“You girls haven’t let me forget a thing today,” Mommy said. “You sure have been helpful.”
The girls smiled at each other. “We did a good job,” Becca whispered.
“Yeah,” Amy said, putting her arm around her younger sister. “The Lookout Girls are a good team!”

Now, it is also true that we may not feel to express gratitude for our trials until years later. When our daughters were young—one of them was a newborn baby—my wife’s life was threatened by lung cancer. It was a time of wrenching our very heartstrings, as the Prophet Joseph said the Lord would do (see JD 20:259, 24:197). Perhaps, because of our youth, we were not able to feel thankful for our trials at that time. We just tried to get through them. Now, however, thirty-one years later, we appreciate and are thankful for all that trial taught us, for the strength we’ve drawn from it that has helped us through many another trial.