Gospel Story Finder

Illustration by Carolyn Vibbert
I was serving in the California Sacramento Mission during Christmas 2003. My companion and the two other sister missionaries we shared an apartment with began receiving gifts and letters from their relatives and friends. I knew it would not be the same for me.
My family in Argentina had few resources, and their letters were usually delayed two to three months. I was far from my family, but I was happy to spend Christmas in the service of Jesus Christ.
On Christmas Eve, we were getting ready for bed when one of the sisters told me that someone had left some packages at the door with my name on them.
“For me? It can’t be!” I said, amazed.
Two large boxes had my name on them but no return address. I was excited, and the other sisters were excited for me too. I opened the packages, which were full of gifts, sweets, children’s drawings, and other items! I couldn’t hold back the tears.
“Who could have sent me these packages?” I wondered. None of us knew, but we all rejoiced because of the generosity.
Several days after Christmas, I still did not know who had sent the packages. So I called the mission office and asked the secretary if she could tell me the name of the mysterious sender. She told me that members in a ward who wanted to remain anonymous had decided to send packages to me with Christmas goodies. I will always be thankful for the generosity of the ward that brought so much love that Christmas Eve and for the support I received during my mission.
I learned that every member of the Church can make the missionaries—though far from home—feel at home through their encouragement and service. That was one of the best Christmases of my life. I was serving the Savior and felt His love through the members of His Church.

A few years ago, I began to notice that things around me were beginning to darken. It troubled me because simple things like reading the print in my scriptures were becoming more difficult. I wondered what had happened to the quality of the lightbulbs and wondered why manufacturers today couldn’t make things like they had in years past.

I replaced the bulbs with brighter ones. They too became dim. I blamed the poor design of the lamps and bulbs. I even questioned whether the brightness of the sun was fading before the thought occurred to me that the problem might not be with the amount of light in the room—the problem might be with my own eyes.

Shortly thereafter, I went to an ophthalmologist who assured me that the world was not going dark at all. A cataract on my eye was the reason the light seemed to be fading. This certainly gives you my age. I placed my faith in the capable hands of this trained specialist, the cataract was removed, and behold, light again flooded my life! The light had never diminished; only my capacity to see the light had been lessened.

This taught me a profound truth. Often when the world seems dark, when the heavens seem distant, we seek to blame everything around us, when the real cause of the darkness may be a lack of faith within ourselves.

During the 2002 Winter Olympic Games in Salt Lake City, the lifetime of preparation our students had done paid off in immense proportions. In this small, three-week window of opportunity, BYU students interacted with journalists from around the world, sipping kiwi lemonade with them at family home evenings, sitting in advanced language classes, and training with them in our athletic facilities. Many of these journalists spoke little or no English and relied on the translation abilities of our students. Over and over again we watched the amazed faces of these international journalists as they interviewed students in their native tongues.

U.S. media outlets were also impressed by our students. On Presidents’ Day 2002, a holiday for BYU, I got a call at home from David Lamb of the Los Angeles Times. He was at T.G.I. Fridays in Provo and asked if I would mind answering a few questions about BYU. It was his first day away from the hubbub of official Olympic activity, and his editor had given him permission to do two stories on cities outside of Salt Lake. He had chosen Wendover and Provo. He made it clear that his story was not about BYU and that he only wanted a paragraph about the university.

I tried to get him to go to our media hosting center, but he refused. As his questioning continued, I finally convinced him to make a trip to campus. There he could obtain a handy media kit that would answer all of his questions—thus, I pointed out, saving him time.

On duty that day were BYU students Chaliese Wouden and Julie Harris, both returned missionaries who between them spoke five languages. David spent two hours on campus: he took a campus tour, watched BYU’s hosting video, and talked with students everywhere he went, particularly with Chaliese and Julie. In parting he told one of my co-workers, “This has to be one of the most cosmopolitan universities in the nation.”

The story that resulted from that visit ran with three color pictures all featuring BYU students and lauded Provo for its friendliness—“which isn’t by accident, darn it.” In paragraph after paragraph David described BYU with its clean-cut enrollment that comes from all 50 states and 110 countries. He talked about how many students have lived abroad and how many are fluent in a second language. He applauded the large number of students serving as volunteers for the Olympic Games. He wrote of the Honor Code and quoted Julie as saying, “It’s empowering, not restricting.”

Although our office prepares for media visitors, it was not the press kits that made David’s story so positive. It was the preparation of Julie and Chaliese and all the other students David interviewed who changed his thinking—preparation that could not have happened in the few minutes it took David to drive up the hill to BYU. This story reflects, more than anything else, the personal study and experience of our students who live the gospel of Jesus Christ on a daily basis. I have no doubt that David, as a seasoned journalist, quickly recognized that his interviewees were not just parroting answers prepared for them but were speaking from their souls.

My former neighbor Elder Neal A. Maxwell described what feasting on the scriptures ought to entail: "For me," he said, "the Book of Mormon is like a vast mansion with gardens, towers, courtyards, and wings. My tour of it has never been completed. Some rooms I have yet to enter, and there are more flaming fireplaces waiting to warm me. . .There are also sumptuous banquet tables painstakingly prepared. . . which await all of us. Yet, we as Church members sometimes behave like hurried tourists, scarcely venturing beyond the entry hall to the mansion."

In his last General Conference Elder Maxwell shared this humorous true story suggesting that even his young grandchildren knew him for his love of the scriptures. He told about the time he visited his grandchildren late one evening. His grandson Robbie had already gone to bed when he arrived. Robbie's mother called to her son: "Robbie, Grandpa Neal is here!" Elder Maxwell heard a tired little voice coming from the bedroom asking, "Shall I bring my scriptures?"

When I turned 12 years old, I went on my first overnight campout with the Scouts. With eager hands I packed my hand-me-down camping gear and headed to the mountains with the troop. I ended up sleeping in a large tent with several other boys, including my older brother. Being the newest and youngest Scout, I felt somewhat intimidated by it all. It was nice to have my older brother with me. He was big and strong and older than most of the other Scouts.

As we all prepared for bed, I quietly climbed out of my sleeping bag and knelt down to say my nightly prayer. As I was praying, I could hear some of the other boys laughing at what I was doing. I was embarrassed and stopped.

My older brother came to my rescue. Responding to the teasing boys, he said in a loud voice, “If my little brother wants to pray, he’s going to pray. Anybody object?”

Not a word was said, and I went back to my prayer. I have often thought of this experience, and I’m thankful for my brother who taught me not to be ashamed to pray regardless of where we are.

This morning I wish to speak of an even more personal aspect of ministering that isn’t by assignment, does not involve a calendared interview, and has no reporting line except to heaven. Let me share just one homespun example of that kind of ministering.
Grant Morrell Bowen was a hardworking, devoted husband and father who, like many who made their living on the land, had an economic downturn when the local potato crop was poor. He and his wife, Norma, took other employment, eventually moved to another city, and started their climb back to economic stability. However, in a terribly unfortunate incident, Brother Bowen was deeply hurt when, in a temple recommend interview, the bishop was a little skeptical regarding Morrell’s declaration that he was a full-tithe payer.
I don’t know which of these men had the more accurate facts that day, but I do know Sister Bowen walked out of that interview with her temple recommend renewed, while Brother Bowen walked out with an anger that would take him away from the Church for 15 years.
Regardless of who was right about the tithing, evidently both Morrell and the bishop forgot the Savior’s injunction to “agree with thine adversary quickly” and Paul’s counsel to “let not the sun go down upon your wrath.” The fact is they didn’t agree and the sun did go down on Brother Bowen’s wrath for days, then weeks, then years, proving the point made by one of the wisest of the ancient Romans, who said, “Anger, if not restrained, is frequently more [destructive] than the injury that provokes it.” But the miracle of reconciliation is always available to us, and out of love for his family and the Church he knew to be true, Morrell Bowen came back into full Church activity. Let me tell you briefly how that happened.
Brother Bowen’s son Brad is a good friend of ours and a devoted Area Seventy serving in southern Idaho. Brad was 11 years old at the time of this incident, and for 15 years he watched his father’s religious devotion decline, a witness to the terrible harvest being reaped where anger and misunderstanding had been sown. Something needed to be done. So as the Thanksgiving holiday approached in 1977, Brad, a 26-year-old student at Brigham Young University; his wife, Valerie; and new baby son, Mic, loaded into their student version of an automobile and, bad weather notwithstanding, drove to Billings, Montana. Not even a crash into a snowbank near West Yellowstone could keep this threesome from making their ministering contact with Brother Bowen Sr.
Upon arrival, Brad and his sister Pam asked for a private moment with their father. “You have been a wonderful dad,” Brad began with some emotion, “and we have always known how much you loved us. But something is wrong, and it has been for a long time. Because you were hurt once, this whole family has been hurting for years. We are broken, and you are the only one who can fix us. Please, please, after all this time, can you find it in your heart to lay aside that unfortunate incident with that bishop and again lead this family in the gospel as you once did?”
There was dead silence. Then Brother Bowen looked up at these two, his children, bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh, and said very quietly, “Yes. Yes, I will.”
Thrilled but stunned by the unexpected answer, Brad Bowen and his family watched their husband and father go to his current bishop in a spirit of reconciliation to set things right in his life. In a perfect response to this courageous but totally unexpected visit, the bishop, who had extended repeated invitations to Brother Bowen to come back, threw his arms around Morrell and just held him—held him in a long, long, long embrace.
In a matter of only a few weeks—doesn’t take long—Brother Bowen was fully engaged in Church activity and had made himself worthy to return to the temple. Soon enough he accepted the call to preside over a struggling little branch of 25 and grew it into a thriving congregation of well over 100. All of this took place nearly half a century ago, but the consequence of a son and a daughter’s ministering plea to their own father and that father’s willingness to forgive and move forward in spite of the imperfections of others has brought blessings that are still coming—and will come forever—to the Bowen family.

Elder Trent Yeow is following in his grandma’s footsteps. Christina Yeow was a constant example of service and tirelessly served everyone, raising money for the homeless, cancer research and many other charities. Elder Yeow speaks fondly of her. “I just want to serve and make Grandma proud.”

One way he serves is by developing friendships with the residents of Regis Nursing Home, playing chess, conversing with them and just being a listening friend. All he wants to do is to serve people as the Saviour did.

“I wish we didn’t have to take the tree down,” Jeff sighed. “It still looks so pretty.”
“I know it does, honey,” Mom said, “but Christmas was 10 days ago.”
Jeff and his mother carefully wrapped shiny ornaments, bows, lacy stars, and the treetop angel in pieces of tissue paper and put them in boxes so nothing would break.
“Next Christmas we’ll decorate the tree again,” Mom said, “and we can make lots of new ornaments.”
She took the last string of lights off the tree, and Jeff put away the ornaments he’d made in church.
“The empty tree looks lonely. It makes me feel sad,” Jeff said. “I wish we could have Christmas all year.”
“In a way, we can,” Mom said. “Christmas means giving, and we can do that all year.”
“But how?” Jeff asked.
“Well, for one thing, the tree doesn’t have to stay empty.” Mom went into the kitchen and got bread, cranberries, and nuts from the cabinet.
“Let’s take the tree outside and put it near the kitchen window. Then we can put the food on the branches for the birds.”
After Jeff and his mom put on their coats, they lugged the tree into the backyard and trimmed it with the food.
“Now the birds can sing while they eat,” Jeff said with a smile. “What else can we do?”
“Let’s go inside. It’s cold out here,” Mom said.
While Jeff looked out the window at the blue jays and cardinals eating food from the tree, Mom found a notebook. “Let’s make a Christmas All Year calendar,” she said. “We’ll fill it with good things to do that will make others happy. Each month we can do a different project. We did the food tree, so let’s write that on the calendar for January.”
Jeff enjoyed making the calendar. When it was finished, here’s how it looked:
JANUARY—Make a Christmas food tree for the birds.
FEBRUARY—Bake valentine cookies for neighbors.
MARCH—Make snowmen for friends.
APRIL—Plant flowers in our garden.
MAY—Help older neighbors clean their yards.
JUNE—Pick strawberries and give them to someone.
JULY—Have a picnic with our family.
AUGUST—Have a lemonade stand.
SEPTEMBER—Help my teacher keep the classroom neat.
OCTOBER—Have fun raking leaves in our yard.
NOVEMBER—Invite friends for Thanksgiving dinner.
DECEMBER—Decorate the Christmas tree.
“We can celebrate Christmas all year!” Jeff declared as he helped Mom hang the calendar on the kitchen wall. Outside it started to snow, so Jeff put on his hat, coat, and mittens and ran out into the front yard. His neighbors were taking down their outdoor Christmas decorations. They waved. Jeff called to them, “Merry Christmas to you for the whole year!”

But Te Oranoa M., age 17, from New Zealand has a different take on things. “What inspires me about this scripture,” she says, “is that it doesn’t say they are lost forever.”

What an incredible insight! And it’s one that comes from personal experience. “I, myself, fell away from the Church,” she says, “but I have been able to come back.”

Te Oranoa grew up in the Church and talks about gaining her own testimony and even setting spiritual goals. “But that testimony grew cold,” she says.

In some ways, she found common ground with Amulek, particularly in the way he described himself to the people of Ammonihah: “I did harden my heart, for I was called many times and I would not hear; therefore I knew concerning these things, yet I would not know” (Alma 10:6).

For Te Oranoa, that scripture hits close to home. “Just like Amulek, I knew all these spiritual things, and the Spirit was telling me to do certain things, but because I was being a bit stubborn and a bit prideful, I wouldn’t do them. Afterward, my testimony kind of faded away.”

In the end, Amulek’s story would become more than merely familiar to Te Oranoa. It would also become a turning point on the road back.

Even during the time when her faith had grown cold, she could still remember sweet experiences from before. Te Oranoa never forgot how she’d felt when attending the temple with her youth group or going to a youth conference.

“There was a pattern,” she says. “I’d feel really good when I came to church, but I didn’t feel good when I missed church.”

There finally came a day when Te Oranoa decided to see if she could connect with those good feelings again. The first thing she did was to read through recent general conference addresses.

An October 2016 general conference address, “Learn from Alma and Amulek,” by President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, woke something in Te Oranoa’s soul. She recognized a lot of her own life and feelings as President Uchtdorf described how Amulek’s faith had faded. She also remembered more strongly than ever the happiness she had enjoyed when her faith was stronger. Instantly, she wanted to make some changes.

“I was hoping to find something to reignite that fire of my testimony,” she explains, “so I read President Uchtdorf’s talk, and yes, I felt on fire!”

Te Oranoa’s path back to faith hasn’t always been easy, but there is a particular light at the end of the tunnel that keeps her going: the hope of an eternal family.

“Families can be together forever,” she says. “That’s my biggest dream, my biggest hope in life. Whenever I want to learn about something, or I find a doctrine hard to understand, I try and relate it back to eternal families. For example, why is Jesus Christ’s Atonement important to me? For one thing, I need His Atonement in my life so I can be worthy to enter the temple and be sealed to my family for all eternity.”

It’s perhaps worth remembering that the people in Lehi’s vision who fell away after tasting the fruit did, in fact, still taste it. They must have known of its goodness, even if only briefly. And they can discover it again. That’s the hope Te Oranoa clings to, for herself and for others.

“You don’t have to keep going down those forbidden paths for the rest of your life,” she says. “You can turn back to the Lord whenever you want.”

Recently, a friend of mine took his son on a trip down the Colorado River through Cataract Canyon, located in southeastern Utah. The canyon is famous for its 14 miles (23 km) of white-water rapids that can be particularly hazardous.
In preparation for their adventure, they had carefully reviewed the National Park Service website, which contains important information about personal preparedness and common, hidden hazards.
At the beginning of the trip, one of the experienced river guides reviewed important safety instructions, emphasizing three rules that would ensure the group’s safe travel through the rapids. “Rule number one: stay in the boat! Rule number two: always wear a life jacket! Rule number three: always hold on with both hands!” He then said again, with even more emphasis, “Above all, remember rule number one: stay in the boat!”
This adventure reminds me of our mortal journey. Most of us experience periods in our lives where the tranquil waters of life are appreciated. At other times, we encounter white-water rapids that are metaphorically comparable to those found in the 14-mile stretch through Cataract Canyon—challenges that may include physical and mental health issues, the death of a loved one, dashed dreams and hopes, and—for some—even a crisis of faith when faced with life’s problems, questions, and doubts.
The Lord in His goodness has provided help, including a boat, essential supplies such as life jackets, and experienced river guides who give guidance and safety instructions to help us make our way down the river of life to our final destination.
Let’s think about rule number one: stay in the boat!
President Brigham Young commonly employed “the Old Ship Zion” as a metaphor for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
He said on one occasion: “We are in the midst of the ocean. A storm comes on, and, as sailors say, she labors very hard. ‘I am not going to stay here,’ says one; ‘I don’t believe this is the “Ship Zion.”’ ‘But we are in the midst of the ocean.’ ‘I don’t care, I am not going to stay here.’ Off goes the coat, and he jumps overboard. Will he not be drowned? Yes. So with those who leave this Church. It is the ‘Old Ship Zion,’ let us stay in it.”
On another occasion, President Young said that he also worried about people losing their way when they were being blessed—when life was good: “It is in calm weather, when the old ship of Zion is sailing with a gentle breeze, [and] when all is quiet on deck, that some of the brethren want to go out in the whaling boats to have … a swim, and some get drowned, others drifted away, and others again get back to the ship. Let us stick to the old ship and she will carry us [safely] into the harbor; you need not be concerned.”
And finally, President Young reminded the Saints: “We are on the old ship Zion. … [God] is at the helm and will stay there. … All is right, sing Hallelujah, for the Lord is here. He dictates, guides and directs. If the people will have implicit confidence in their God, never forsake their covenants nor their God, He will guide us right.”
Given the challenges we all face today, how do we stay on the Old Ship Zion?
Here is how. We need to experience a continuing conversion by increasing our faith in Jesus Christ and our faithfulness to His gospel throughout our lives—not just once but regularly. Alma asked, “And now behold, I say unto you, my brethren [and sisters], if ye have experienced a change of heart, and if ye have felt to sing the song of redeeming love, I would ask, can ye feel so now?”
The experienced river guides today can be likened to the Church’s apostles and prophets and inspired local priesthood and auxiliary leaders. They help us arrive safely to our final destination.
Recently, I spoke at the new mission presidents’ seminar and counseled these leaders:
“Keep the eyes of the mission on the leaders of the Church. … We will not and … cannot lead [you] astray.
“And as you teach your missionaries to focus their eyes on us, teach them to never follow those who think they know more about how to administer the affairs of the Church than … Heavenly Father and the Lord Jesus Christ do” through the priesthood leaders who have the keys to preside.
“I have discovered in my ministry that those who have become lost [and] confused are typically those who have most often … forgotten that when the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve speak with a united voice, it is the voice of the Lord for that time. The Lord reminds us, ‘Whether by mine own voice or by the voice of my servants, it is the same’ [D&C 1:38].”
In other words, they leave the Old Ship Zion—they fall away; they apostatize. Tragically, they often experience short-term and eventually long-term unintended consequences, not only for themselves but also for their families.
Our local Church leaders, like seasoned river guides, have been tutored by life’s experiences; have been trained and mentored by apostles and prophets and other officers of the Church; and, most important, have been tutored by the Lord Himself.
On another occasion this year, I spoke to the young adults of the Church in the May CES devotional broadcast. I said:
“I have heard that some people think the Church leaders live in a ‘bubble.’ What they forget is that we are men and women of experience, and we have lived our lives in so many places and worked with many people from different backgrounds. Our current assignments literally take us around the globe, where we meet the political, religious, business, and humanitarian leaders of the world. Although we have visited [leaders in] the White House in Washington, D.C., and leaders of nations [and religions] throughout the world, we have also visited the most humble [families and people] on earth. …
“When you thoughtfully consider our lives and ministry, you will most likely agree that we see and experience the world in ways few others do. You will realize that we live less in a ‘bubble’ than most people. …
“… There is something about the individual and combined wisdom of the [Church leaders] that should provide some comfort. We have experienced it all, including the consequences of different public laws and policies, disappointments, tragedies, and deaths in our own families. We are not out of touch with your lives.”
Along with rule number one as I’ve applied it, remember rules two and three: always wear a life jacket, and hold on with both hands. The words of the Lord are found in the scriptures and the teachings of the apostles and prophets. They provide us counsel and direction that, when followed, will act like a spiritual life jacket and will help us know how to hold on with both hands.
We need to become like the sons of Mosiah, who “waxed strong in the knowledge of the truth.” We can become men and women “of a sound understanding.” This can be accomplished only by our “search[ing] the scriptures diligently, that [we] might know the word of God.”
In searching the scriptures and the words of past and current apostles and prophets, we should focus on studying, living, and loving the doctrine of Christ.
In addition to developing the habit of personal scripture reading, we need to be like the sons of Mosiah and give ourselves “to much prayer, and fasting.”
It seems that these things which are not easily measured are of great importance. Stay focused on these simple things, and avoid becoming distracted.
As I have known people who have not stayed in the boat and have not held on with both hands during times of trials and troubles or who have not stayed in the boat during times of relative calm, I have observed that many of them have lost their focus on the central truths of the gospel—the reasons why they joined the Church in the first place; the reasons they remained fully committed and active in living gospel standards and blessing others through dedicated, consecrated service; and the ways in which the Church has been in their lives “a place of spiritual nourishment and growth.”
Joseph Smith taught this central truth: “The fundamental principles of our religion [are] the testimony of the apostles and prophets concerning Jesus Christ, … ‘that he died, was buried, and rose again the third day, and ascended up into heaven;’ and all other things are only appendages to these, which pertain to our religion.”
If we keep our focus on the Lord, we are promised a blessing beyond comparison: “Wherefore, ye must press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men. Wherefore, if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life.”
Sometimes faithful Latter-day Saints and sincere investigators begin to focus on the “appendages” instead of on the fundamental principles. That is, Satan tempts us to become distracted from the simple and clear message of the restored gospel. Those so distracted often give up partaking of the sacrament because they have become focused, even preoccupied, with less important practices or teachings.
Others may focus on the questions and doubts they experience. Of course, having questions and experiencing doubts are not incongruent with dedicated discipleship. Recently, the Council of the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles stated: “We understand that from time to time Church members will have questions about Church doctrine, history, or practice. Members are always free to ask such questions and earnestly seek greater understanding.”
Remember, Joseph Smith himself had questions that began the Restoration. He was a seeker and, like Abraham, found the answers to life’s most important questions.
The important questions focus on what matters most—Heavenly Father’s plan and the Savior’s Atonement. Our search should lead us to become kind, gentle, loving, forgiving, patient, and dedicated disciples. We must be willing, as Paul taught, to “bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.”
To bear another’s burdens includes helping, supporting, and understanding everyone, including the sick, the infirm, the poor in spirit and body, the seeker and the troubled, and also other member-disciples—including Church leaders who have been called by the Lord to serve for a season.
Brothers and sisters, stay in the boat, use your life jackets, and hold on with both hands. Avoid distractions! And if any one of you have fallen out of the boat, we will seek you, find you, minister to you, and pull you safely back onto the Old Ship Zion, where God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ are at the helm and will guide us right, to which I humbly testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I had just turned eight, and it was getting close to my baptism date. I asked my mom if I could invite my second-grade teacher to my baptism. My mom said, “Of course.” I wrote my teacher an invitation and gave it to her. She said she would love to come but had a family commitment on the same day. Even though she wasn’t there for my baptism, I felt happy that I had invited her. Maybe it would make her curious about my beliefs.
Paige G., age 9, Texas, USA

I feel impressed by something that has been said to repeat an experience. There are a number who are listening in tonight, and one particularly who will remember this very vividly—an incident that took place a number of years ago in Japan. I want you to pay particular attention to a part of this, to show how a mistake in your early life can blight the possibilities of your future opportunities for service in the kingdom of God.
It was just after the war; things were tense. We were at one of the upper camps where the planes could take off, and within half an hour they could be over on the Russian side. We were holding a noon meeting with our servicemen. They called on a young man to speak first. He announced his text from the prayer of the Master when he prayed for his disciples: “I pray not that thou shouldest take them [my disciples] out of the world, but that thou shouldest keep them from the evil.” (John 17:15.) Then this lad delivered one of the finest talks on chastity that I have ever heard. He closed by saying, “Rather than lose my virtue, I would die and have my body sent home in a pine box and my dog tags follow after.”
There was a hush over that audience of servicemen, and then he bore his testimony; and as he started to leave the pulpit, he stumbled and fell, draped over the pulpit. We lifted him off the pulpit and worked with him until he was revived, and then took him down in the audience.
As they carried him down, the mission president said to me, “I wonder if he has a bad heart.” And I said, “You know, I have had a feeling that there is something quarreling inside of him against what he has been saying to us.”
When it came my time to speak, I said to him, “Now, my boy, you have made a profound impression upon all of us. You have said you would rather die than lose your virtue. But remember, the devil heard you, as we heard you, and if I don’t miss my guess, he is going to make you prove that you would give your life before you would lose your virtue. You had better be on guard.”
The group leader took me aside when the meeting was over, and he said, “You were hitting close to the mark, because up at the Chitose Airbase there has grown up one of the most filthy, rotten cities filled with prostitutes to try to entrap our men, and we have tried to keep them out of their clutches. But this boy had made a date with one of these hussies, as they called them, patriotic hussies; and we found out before he kept the date and said, ‘Now look, we are not going to let you keep that date. Think of your mother; think of your sweetheart; think of your sisters. Now we will go down with you and help you break that date honorably.’”
This they did, and kept him under their surveillance for two weeks. They assigned him to do ward teaching, or home teaching, as they call it now; that meant, visit all the inactive boys in the camp. And two weeks later they assigned him to talk on the subject of chastity.
So the years passed. We were with President McKay at the dedication of the Los Angeles Temple. Between sessions I walked out to get some fresh air. As I walked up the west side of the building, I saw on the upper elevation a young man who seemed familiar to me, and I got closer to this young man that I had seen in Hokkaido, Japan. As he recognized me, he came running down the steps and threw his arms around my neck, and said, “Guess what! They have called me to be a worker in the Los Angeles Temple.”
There was a lump in my throat because I was there at the crossroads when he almost made a fatal step that probably would have forfeited him the right to be a worker in the Los Angeles Temple.
More years passed, and then I was out at a conference where he lived; and I saw a young couple walking down the aisle, the man holding in his arms a beautiful child, and a beautiful girl holding on to his arm, whom he introduced as his wife. As they uncovered the face of their new baby, I thought there was pride in the face of that young man because he knew as a young father that in the blood of his own child there was clean, pure blood. That is the reward that comes to one who passes the test.

As a teenager, I didn’t like going to church, so I didn’t know much about the Bible or about God, nor did I want to. When I was 17, a friend of mine told me she was a Mormon. I had no idea what a Mormon was. I told my friend, “If I want to know anything about that church, I’ll find out on my own.”
Seeing that I wasn’t too concerned about religion, she gave me a Book of Mormon and asked me to read it and pray about it. She didn’t pressure me. Later that night as I opened the book, I noticed her testimony written in the front. As I read it, I felt that I should learn more about the Book of Mormon. So I started reading 1 Nephi. I could not put the book down. I needed to know more.
In a family home evening, her family taught me about the gospel of Jesus Christ. Everything seemed to make sense. Soon I was taught by the missionaries and baptized and confirmed a member of the Lord’s true Church. The gospel helped me know who I am, where I came from, and where I could go if I am faithful.
As I look back, I can see how the Holy Ghost helped me want to learn more. As I learned more, my attitude about church and God changed. For the first time in my life, I wanted to do what He wanted me to do.
The Book of Mormon changed my life, and I’m thankful for my friend who shared it with me. A true friend shares vital information such as this.
Michael P., Ohio, USA

As Tyler climbed out of Grandpa’s truck, the cold January wind off Boston Harbor whipped at his face. With each breath, a tiny cloud of fog appeared in front of him. “This is Boston, Grandpa?”
Not waiting for an answer, he continued eagerly, “Where is Boston Garden? And Fenway Park—where is Fenway Park, Grandpa?”
Smiling, Grandpa answered, “Put your scarf on, and then I’ll show you where everything is.”
Wrapping his scarf close around his face, he followed his grandfather. As they walked, Tyler saw a man sit down and take a huge army knapsack off his back. Sitting next to the man was a black Labrador retriever wearing a guide-dog harness. Tyler noticed that the dog’s shaggy fur was scruffy as it looked at him in apparent misery on the cold pavement.
He looked from the dog to the man, who had now set up a small keyboard, amplifier, and generator.
It was obvious that the man was blind as he fumbled to find the power switch. His hands were cracked and bleeding as he placed an old, battered cap upside-down on the ground and began to play. The man smiled politely and said thank you whenever he heard coins drop into the hat.
“Why is that man playing outside in such cold weather, Grandpa?”
“He probably doesn’t have a home,” Grandpa answered solemnly.
“Unfortunately, some of the street performers in the shopping district are homeless.”
Tyler pulled his coat tighter about himself and thought of his own warm home.
When Grandpa dropped him off at home that night, Tyler went straight to his room. Taking his piggy bank from his dresser, he opened it and dumped the contents onto his bed. Slowly he counted first his bills, then his coins. Nineteen dollars and fifty-eight cents.
He lifted the bank up to his face and peered into the hole in the bottom. Reaching in with two fingers, he pulled out a folded catalog page. He unfolded it and admired the fishing pole that he had been planning to get for his grandfather. Now, however, even though Grandpa’s birthday was only two days away, Tyler couldn’t forget the blind man’s cracked hands or the dog’s sad eyes.
The next day after school, Tyler emptied the contents of the piggy bank into his coat pocket, borrowed his little sister’s red wagon, and walked to the store. Twenty minutes later he left it, his pockets no longer jingling with change. Instead, one pocket bulged with a new pair of wool gloves, and his wagon creaked under the weight of a large bag of dog food.
After parking the wagon in the garage, Tyler went to his room. Grandpa’s birthday was only a day away, and Tyler still had no gift to give him. Searching his room, he found the ceramic pot he had made in art class. Dumping out the loose baseball cards in it, he took a closer look.
Well, it’s blue, and that’s Grandpa’s favorite color, he thought, trying to convince himself that his grandfather would like it. He cleaned it up, then sat down with a pencil and a sheet of paper and began to write:
Dear Grandpa,
For your birthday, I wanted to get you something you would really like. I know that to really help people, we are to give as much as we can to fast offerings, but this gift is a sort of remembrance of our wonderful day in Boston together. …
When he finished, he stuck the note and the creased picture of the fishing pole inside the ceramic pot and wrapped it.
The next evening, his stomach felt as though he had eaten stone soup instead of the wonderful birthday dinner his grandmother had prepared. Grandpa is going to be awfully disappointed at my present, he thought sadly as Grandma brought out the candle-lit cake.
When it was time for Grandpa to open his gifts, he reached for Tyler’s package first. Tyler held his breath as he watched his grandfather’s face. When Grandpa finished reading the note in the pot, he smiled at Tyler, his blue eyes twinkling.
The following Saturday, Tyler and his grandfather were back in Boston. Grandpa carried the dog food, and he carried the wool gloves. Rounding the corner, Tyler saw a number of street performers. Straining his eyes, he spotted the blind man and his dog at the end of the block. Approaching him, Tyler said, “Excuse me, sir.”
The man continued to play, but turned his head in the direction of the boy’s voice.
“I have something for you. I paid for it with my own money.”
The man stopped playing his keyboard, and Tyler handed him the gloves. As he felt the wool gloves, a huge smile spread across the man’s face.
“Also,” Tyler quickly went on, “I brought a bag of food for your dog.”
Now the man spoke, his voice husky. “Thank you, boy. Thank you.”
As Grandpa set down the heavy bag, Tyler noticed the Lab’s ears perk up. And when he glanced back later, he saw that the man was wearing the new gloves while he gave his dog some of the food.
Tyler looked up to see Grandpa’s eyes twinkling again. “I’ll treasure the pot,” Grandpa said, “but I like this gift even better.”

This past general conference, my wife and I looked at each other and said, “What are we doing for conference? Who are we inviting over?” In our YSA ward, we’d gotten used to gathering with other young adults to listen to the messages from our prophet and other Church leaders. We also both come from larger families, so now that it was just us, it felt odd not to watch conference surrounded by people.
But we decided not to have anyone over for conference. And honestly, breaking from our routine helped us listen more closely to the messages and focus more on how we could develop our relationship with the Savior.

My son, Chris, was in his senior year in high school and was enjoying a fourth year in the choir. He had worked hard, and his voice was very good, yet he had never tried out for the annual high school talent show before. This was the year he decided to try.
Chris said that he had decided to sing “How Great Thou Art.” I knew it was a song very close to his heart. I asked him why he would sing such a spiritual song in that setting. He said that he and his sisters had taken a lot of flack about believing in Jesus Christ. Many people at school and in the choir had accused them of not being real Christians. He felt strongly that this song would help settle the question once and for all that he did believe in and love the Savior.
I was scared for him and said I would support him in whatever he did. After successfully auditioning, Chris was notified that he was to be the last performer out of 18 acts.
On the night of the performance, the crowd went wild over the more extreme acts. Then there came a girl singing a country song. She had a lovely voice, but because the crowd would not calm down, she couldn’t hear her music and got off the beat. The crowd kept whistling and yelling, basically driving her off the stage.
At intermission Chris left the performers’ waiting area and made his way to us at the back of the gym. I wanted to be encouraging, but I also wanted to take him home. He calmly said, “I saw what the crowd did, and went off by myself backstage and prayed. I still feel like I should sing that song. It doesn’t matter whether they like it or not. I will have given my testimony of Christ, and that is why I came.”
I still felt afraid for him. Even though the director of the program had spoken to the crowd about their behavior, there was still a lot of noise. Two acts before Chris was a very popular rap group. They got the crowd going at such a high level we just sat in the middle of the noise and watched. After this group left the stage, about half the kids in the gym got up and left as if the show were over.
The act just before Chris was a blind girl and her friend playing a guitar duet. It changed the feeling and spirit in the gym. It was beautiful and sweet. As Chris moved onto the stage, we all prayed that he would do his best and that somehow it would be a positive experience. As his mother, I felt that I had let my son walk into the lion’s den and only the Lord could save him.
Chris’s music teacher had given him a mouth harp. That was the first sound we heard. Then his voice, sweet and clear, came across the gym to us. I could feel the feelings of love he had for the Savior as he sang all three verses. When he finished, half of the crowd gave him a standing ovation.
We waited around to hear the judges’ results. Chris had told us they usually voted for the group that was most popular with the crowd. Still, we decided to wait and see how things went. Then the judges announced the first-place winner as Christopher Tucker. We were all yelling, jumping up and down, and hugging each other.
What a night! We felt that winning was nice, but the most important thing was seeing the faith that our son had put into action.
Editor’s Note: Christopher is now serving a mission in the North Carolina Charlotte Mission.

I used to not like going to church because I felt I had no friends there. At school, I had friends I could laugh with. But I felt that the young women at church were different from me or might not like my personality. I started pretending to be asleep so I wouldn’t have to attend church.
Then the COVID-19 pandemic came, and we went through a time of losing things. I live with my mom and grandma. My mom lost her job, and we thought we would have to give up our home. I started looking for a cheaper place to live, but I didn’t find any. Instead, I found the Savior.
The Church started broadcasting church services online, and my mother would make me wake up and watch, which helped me to “fake it till I made it.” I felt like the Savior was reaching out to me, even if I wasn’t reaching out to Him. And when I started to reach out to Him, He made His hand more reachable. Losing things helped me find the Savior.
I felt like the Savior was reaching out to me, even if I wasn’t reaching out to Him.
Our bishop gave me a calling, and the other young women became my friends because I opened myself to them. Since I’d felt like I didn’t have friends, I realized others might experience this too. It made me think I should make the first move and reach out.
In the end, the Lord helped my mother find a new job. Thankfully, we still live in our home, and the Savior made it a holier place. I still laugh with my friends at school too. But nothing beats the joy the Savior offers.

During my school’s values-education month, our teacher asked us to write an essay titled “Why am I here?” It had to be a 10-paragraph essay on the topic of our purpose in life. As I read the topic on the board, my heart was filled with comfort and happiness. As a member of the Church, I had known my purpose as a daughter of God for many years. But as I looked at my other classmates’ faces, my heart was filled with sadness. Why? Because they started to murmur regarding the difficulty of the topic. They didn’t have the same knowledge I did.
When I turned in my essay, I realized how blessed I am to be a member of the one true Church. From that day on, my desire to serve a mission and share my testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ was strengthened.
I know that Heavenly Father loves me and wants me to be with Him someday. I also know that it is my purpose to serve others.

Cut down on television time. We found that even though watching television is relaxing, it doesn’t give us quality time as a family. We decided not to watch television between the time Dad comes home from work and when the children go to bed. After we got used to having the television off, we were surprised at how much interaction we had as a family. We began communicating and feel closer to each other than we used to.

About half-way through the Book of Mormon, it became obvious that we need to “quicken our pace and lengthen our stride” if the children were to have the Book of Mormon read before they left home for college, marriage, or missions. We had long since progressed to reading both columns on a page. Now we started reading two pages a night. By October 1986 we set a goal. We would have the book finished by Christmas!
It was a special night when we read the last page. We planned it so that Jill, who was five, could read the last verse. We didn’t say much, but the prayer that night was one of special thanks for our eight-year journey through the Book of Mormon.
We thought of having a celebration, but in the end we realized that this was only the end of the Book of Mormon part of our effort; it was not the end of our daily scripture reading. So we celebrated by going to the store for ice cream. Our real reward was the quiet satisfaction we each felt. We had read the Book of Mormon, and we had done it together.