Gospel Story Finder

It was past her bedtime, but Mia wasn’t in bed. She was sitting on the floor of her room, thinking about something Sister Duval had read in Primary: “The time will come when no man or woman will be able to stand on borrowed light.”*
“A testimony is like a light inside of us,” Sister Duval had explained. “And we each need our own. Then we can be strong when life is hard and Satan tempts us.”
Mia leaned her head against her bed. I want a testimony that the gospel is true, she thought. But how exactly did you get a testimony? She knew that praying was part of it.
“I’ll pray,” she decided. She would pray and wouldn’t stop until something happened to let her know the Church was true. She was ready to pray all night if she had to!
She got on her knees. “Dear Heavenly Father,” she whispered, “I want to know if the Church is true. I want to feel it in my heart and just know.”
Mia waited. She didn’t feel anything except for the soft feeling she usually felt when she prayed. What was she doing wrong? Where was her testimony?
She had been on her knees for what seemed like a long time when the door to her room opened a little and her dad peeked in.
“I saw the light under the door,” he said. “Are you up reading again?” Then he saw tears on Mia’s cheeks. He knelt down and put his arm around her. “What’s wrong?”
She was quiet for a minute. Then she asked, “Daddy, how do you get a testimony?”
Daddy hugged her tight. “That’s a good question. Wanting a testimony is one of the first steps.”
Mia felt the lump in her throat start to go away. She had taken the first step already.
“Getting a testimony doesn’t usually happen with one prayer. And even when you have a testimony, you need to keep working on it.”
“But where does a testimony come from?” Mia asked.
“A testimony comes from the Holy Ghost,” Daddy said. “Have you ever felt warm and good during family home evening or at church?”
Mia thought about that. “When you gave me a special blessing before school started, I felt good.” She thought some more. “And I always feel warm inside when I hear President Monson talk in general conference. And when I’m nice to my friends or when I’m reading my scriptures, I feel good then too.”
Daddy smiled. “Those feelings are the Holy Ghost speaking to you. He gives you those feelings when you do something that’s right or when you hear something that’s true.”
“I feel warm and happy now,” Mia said. “Is that the Holy Ghost?”
Daddy hugged her again. “Yes. He’s telling you that the things we’re talking about are true. And that’s how you get a testimony.”
When Mia went to bed later, she didn’t think she had a whole testimony yet, but she still had that good, warm feeling that what Daddy told her was true. She knew this feeling was just the beginning.
Mia snuggled into her warm blanket and closed her eyes. Just before she drifted off to sleep, she whispered, “Thank Thee, Heavenly Father, for helping me have a testimony. And thank Thee for my daddy.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Do. Not. Cry.
This was the pep talk I recently gave myself the day before my 30th birthday. (It was a melodramatic day, to say the least.) But crying about my birthday is not out of the ordinary for me. I’ve never been a fan of growing up.
(And, in case you’re wondering, my pep talk didn’t work.)
Shocking, really.
I would turn 30, and the world would keep spinning.
So why did I feel like it was about to end?
Well for one, I struggle with anxiety. So there’s that. But I always felt like turning 30 would seal the door to my youth forever. I felt like I hadn’t accomplished enough during my 20s. And after facing challenges during that decade, I was scared of the new responsibilities and trials heading my way (possibly motherhood, a worsening chronic illness, and who knows what else).
As my anxious thoughts spiraled, I said a prayer asking God for comfort, and I started to ponder my past decade of life as a young adult.
What had I accomplished? What had I learned? How had I changed?
And that’s when I focused in on the most important thought that came to mind:
“How did I deepen my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ during this time?”
This changed my perspective.
Being a 20-something-year-old can be a very confusing, heartbreaking, and just plain hard time. Many seem to be thinking the same thing: “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
My early 20s consisted of an ebb and flow of feelings of aimlessness, fear, loneliness, and sometimes even a sense of abandonment from Heavenly Father when my life wasn’t going the way I thought it would.
When I was 24, I felt like I was in the darkest season of my life. But words from Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf struck my soul and triggered the start of a deep change in me.
At a worldwide devotional for young adults, he said:
“When I was your age, I had no idea where my life would take me. I definitely didn’t see any dots connecting in front of me.
“But I did trust God. I listened to the advice of loving family and wise friends, and I took small steps of faith, believing that if I did the best I could in the moment, God would take care of the big picture.
“He did. …
“In Proverbs, we find this great promise: ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths’ [Proverbs 3:5–6].
“I don’t believe there is a question mark at the end of that verse. No, I think there should be an exclamation point!”1
After hearing Elder Uchtdorf’s words at 24, I committed to using this time of life to trust in the Lord.
And, six years later, on the day before I turned 30, I was hit with the profound truth that, despite the melodrama (and the actual, difficult drama) this is what young adulthood has been for me:
Sacred.
We can make young adulthood one of the most sacred seasons of our journey in mortality. It’s a time for discovery, deepening faith, true conversion, and realizing our divine identity and potential.
I can see that as I made choices to seek Jesus Christ and to keep choosing faith (especially when it was difficult), this season helped me start to understand what He has done for me—and continues to do for me.
It’s the season where I’ve had to take responsibility for my testimony.
It’s the season where I received my endowment, cherished my temple covenants, and witnessed the power that comes from attending the temple.
It’s been a season of facing questions and wrestling with Heavenly Father to find answers (even if that answer is to trust Him).
It’s a season where I may not have always recognized the Savior and Heavenly Father in my life but later saw that They were always with me.
It’s been a season of learning that the grace of Jesus Christ can always make up for my sins and imperfections as I turn to Him in humility and sincere repentance (see Ether 12:27).
It’s a season of unknowns and learning to “press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope” (2 Nephi 31:20).
Yes, young adulthood is filled with hardships. I faced stressful college courses, struggles in my career path, the heart-wrenching pains of dating, family difficulties, and other challenges that could have filled up an “end-of-the-world”–themed bingo card.
But I’ve learned that it was these hard moments that gave me an opportunity to cling to truth, choose faith, and seek the healing and enabling power of Jesus Christ—all things that ultimately made this a beautifully sacred time of life. This season is about allowing Him and Heavenly Father to refine us and help us start building the masterpiece of a life we desire.
That doesn’t sound so bad.
With our focus on Jesus Christ, we can make young adulthood—and every year beyond—a sacred space full of hope, triumph, and true joy.
That is what it’s been for me.

During this time, Richard became active in the Relief Presbyterian Church. When he was twenty-one, he was ordained an officer in that church. Concerned about the religious instruction of children, Richard organized a Sunday School. However, questions about the Bible and Presbyterian doctrine plagued him. He spent long hours walking, meditating, and praying. The answer to his questions came when two young elders from a newly organized church across the ocean taught him the fulness of the gospel. In December 1842 Richard Ballantyne was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints by Elder Henry McCune in the Firth of Forth near Leith.

WHAPP! The head of a sunflower toppled to the ground. “All’s well now, my lady. The Duke of Mogar’s cruelty to others is at an end.”
Jason and his older sister Emily were playing knights and ladies, a pastime of great imagination they both enjoyed whenever the weather and chores allowed.
“Gruuuk! Gruuuk!” crowed Marcus, seeming to approve of the good knight’s brave deed. Then with a single jump and flutter of wings, the rooster alighted on Emily’s shoulder.
“What do you think, Marcus?” Emily asked as she smoothed the bird’s feathers. “Didn’t my knight slay the duke handily?”
Jason beamed under his sister’s praise, and tucked the nicked and battered boomerang he used for a sword into his belt.
“Let’s have our lunch now, Jason,” Emily suggested, and she stopped under the shade of a large sycamore tree to spread the contents of a bundle she had been carrying. There were wedges of cheese the color of the Montana summer sun, hefty slices of oatmeal bread, some molasses cookies, and two McIntosh apples. While they ate their lunch, Marcus scratched up some grubs and other delicacies he fancied. Then when he left off scratching, he strutted about in his imperial manner, convinced of his elegance.
Emily tossed Marcus a piece of bread that was quickly eaten. She remembered when the rooster was still a feisty Rhode Island Red chick. Even then there was something extraordinary about his appearance and behavior. He was larger by half than any of the others of the same hatch and more assertive. And there was a certain nobility in his bearing that reminded Emily of the character of Marcus in a book about Roman gladiators she had once read. So Marcus he became and the name suited him perfectly!
Marcus followed Emily around from the start, accepting tidbits whenever she offered any. Mama and Papa were amused at first by the bird’s attachment, but when his loyalty persisted it was obvious that he was Emily’s protector as much as any watchdog could have been and just as faithful. And whenever the children played knights and ladies, Marcus included himself in the adventure.
On the way back to the house to do their chores that afternoon, the children heard old Bully snorting before they saw Papa, guiding his team up over a rise. They were heading for the barn, and Jason wanted Emily to race with him, to see if they could beat Papa home. But Emily had started coughing again. “We’ll race him tomorrow,” he said good-naturedly.
After supper that night Emily went to bed early. The next morning she was burning up with fever. When Papa called the doctor, Jason knew his sister was very sick.
“It’s pneumonia,” Dr. Delaney announced with a furrowed brow after his examination. “As bad a case as I’ve ever seen.”
For several days afterward an unnatural quiet settled over the house as Mama and Papa took turns caring for Emily. They spoke in soft whispers. Doors were eased shut lest the noise disturb the little patient. Marcus, too, sensed the change. He missed his mistress and hovered about the back steps, pecking and scratching disinterestedly in the gravel.
Although Jason might have had trouble expressing his feelings for his sister, he loved Emily and missed her dearly. Then one morning after Jason had been outside rolling a barrel hoop with a stick, he came running into the kitchen. “Mama! Mama! Come quick!” he shouted. “Something’s the matter with Marcus. He’s stretched out under the steps—funny-like. And he’s not moving.”
Papa came, too, when he heard the alarm, only half shaved and with his suspenders dangling. As soon as he stooped down and pulled Emily’s pet out into the light he knew what had happened. “A weasel,” he said through tight lips. The marks under the ruffled neck feathers clearly showed where the rooster’s lifeblood had been drawn off.
“Ever since Emily’s been down,” Mama said, “Marcus has hardly left the back steps. I guess he relaxed his vigil last night and the weasel took him.”
“How will we tell Emily,” Jason agonized, “feeling poorly like she is? I’d just like to lay hold of that old varmint!”
“No you wouldn’t, son,” said Papa firmly. “They’re quick as lightning and about as vicious as an animal can be. It was just an unequal contest, that’s all.”
The three of them sat on the steps with their own thoughts for a while. Finally, Papa sighed and said, “I’ll get a shovel.” Jason went with him and then they went around to the shady side of the barn.
After the soft earth had been smoothed over, Jason asked, “Can we say some words, Papa?”
“All right, son.”
Upstairs, Mama hesitated a moment before going into the bedroom. “Emily,” she asked, “are you awake?”
“Come in, Mama,” a husky voice answered.
“How do you feel, dear?”
“Better, thanks, Mama.”
“Want me to plump up your pillows and raise the shade a little?” Emily nodded.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Mama wondered how to begin. She fussed with a thread on the coverlet a moment, then she started. “Emily, you remember last fall when your papa’s saddle horse Jake turned up missing?”
“Yes, Mama, and I remember how bad Papa felt when he found him dead and the mountain lion tracks all around where they had struggled. It was awful.”
“That’s right, honey, it was awful and we all felt bad, knowing how much your papa loved that old horse. But somehow we get over those hurts. Memories are softened in time, and we can more clearly see why things happen the way they do. Our hatred for the big cat gradually changed to an understanding that he was only acting out of instinct and that he must have been very hungry to attack an animal as large as a horse.
“Emily, I’m telling you this to help you bear some more hurt. And I’m sorry to have to tell you when you’ve been so sick, but there’s never a good time to hear some things.”
After Mama had explained about Marcus and the weasel, Emily sobbed out her unhappiness while Mama held her close.
When Jason came to see his sister later that afternoon, any mention of Marcus was avoided. He tried to cheer her up and talked of a new place he had found by the creek for their play. “It would make a perfect place for a castle moat!” he said excitedly. Emily managed a wan smile, but Jason knew where her thoughts were. When he couldn’t bear to feel Emily’s sadness anymore Jason fidgeted, then hugged his sister tightly and left the room.
After doing his and Emily’s chores, Jason wandered into the barn where he could hear Papa hammering on the anvil. He liked to watch the sparks scatter when Papa’s powerful arm brought his hammer down with a ringing blow to shape a horseshoe.
Nero, one of their Percheron draft (work) horses waited patiently while Papa fitted him with new shoes. A gust of wind fluttered the horse’s wispy leg feathers as it turned his head to watch Papa. Nero and his harness mate Bully together weighed well over four thousand pounds. Bully was seventeen hands tall, half a hand taller than Nero. But in the pulling contests at the fair they were both champions. There wasn’t a team in either Gallatin or Jefferson County that could outpull them. Maybe even in all of Montana, Jason speculated.
When Papa plunged the red-hot shoe he held with tongs, sizzling into the water tub, an idea came to Jason as he watched the last of the water bubbles burst. “Papa, when you’re through with old Nero, can I talk to you about something—something to make Emily happy again?”
“Sure, son, just give me a few minutes,” Papa replied.
Jason was always amazed at how expertly Papa maneuvered the big horses into position with the slightest urging. They seemed to know by his touch and the sound of his voice how fond he was of them. And they returned their master’s good feelings. It didn’t take Papa long to finish, and then Jason told him his plan.
For several days Mama was curious about all the hammering that came from Papa’s forge behind closed doors. But whenever she asked Jason or Papa about the racket, they always managed to skirt around a direct answer. When she took Emily’s lunch to the upstairs bedroom and her daughter asked, “What’s Papa making?” Mama answered, “I honestly don’t know, dear. And I don’t know how much longer I can school my curiosity.”
At the supper table that evening, Mama noticed Papa wink at Jason as he excused himself and said expansively, “Nobody ever made dumplings like that before, Mama.” Then he lifted her lightly and together they twirled twice around. “Now, Jason and I have to finish something,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “And never you mind what it is. You’ll know soon enough.”
Out in the twilight gloom of the barn, Papa said in a loud whisper, “Fetch a couple of feed sacks, Jason. We’ll put the parts in one and the tools in the other. I’ll get a length of rope and a lantern.”
When they had climbed up the ladder pole to the loft, they lugged their gear down to the door at the end of the barn where they could barely see the hay hoist silhouetted against the starry sky. Papa went up first. Next, he pulled up Jason and the sacks. Then the two forms hunkered down on top of the barn ridge and, by the soft lantern light, opened the sacks.
There was an air of expectancy in the kitchen the next morning. And in spite of the fact that Mama served Jason’s favorite meal—flapjacks and chokecherry jelly—he didn’t seem to be giving it his full attention. Papa wasn’t doing justice to his breakfast either. When Mama said she was going to take Emily’s tray up to her, they both offered their help, so they all trooped up the stairs together.
Emily was much improved, but she still felt sad and listless. Next to the family, she had loved the old rooster best of all.
Before Emily could get to her tray, Papa suggested they move her bed closer to the window, and Jason was already tugging at the blind. “Let’s let in more light,” he said. When the bed was shifted, Jason let the blind go with a FLAP, FLAP, FLAP.
Mama stopped talking in mid-sentence, and when she had caught her breath all she could say was, “Well, I declare!”
There high on the peak of the barn and facing into the first rays of the morning sun was a near-perfect likeness of Marcus, only it was fashioned out of scrap iron and brass. “It’s a weather vane, Emily,” Papa explained, “and pretty near indestructible unless a tornado snatches it away.”
“Do you like it, Em?” Jason asked excitedly. “See how he cocks his head just like Marcus always did.”
Emily thought at first she was going to cry, but then a smile made in heaven settled on her face and bathed them all with its warmth.
When she could find her voice again, Emily threw her arms around her father’s neck and cried, “Oh, Papa! Papa!” And then with wet cheeks she turned to Jason and said, “Thank you, my good knight. Well done! Now, whenever I look up outside I can see my faithful sky watcher riding on the wind.”

Abdul smiled happily and wiped his brow as he strode between the tents that formed a cloth city in the desert oasis.
“Let me in on the joke,” called his friend, Hadji, from the front of a beautiful striped tent.
“No joke, to be sure, Friend Hadji. A boon. A blessing from Allah. I have just completed the harvest of my dates. It surpasses last year’s crop which was superb and the crops from all prior years that were nothing to sniff at.”
“I’m glad to hear of your good fortune, Friend Abdul,” said Hadji. “Let me show my happiness to you by loaning you my camel. He can carry more than your small donkey. You will be able to take a larger share of your date crop to the city in one trip.”
“You are a good friend, indeed,” said Abdul. “I accept your generous offer. Why not travel with me? When my dates are sold, we shall celebrate together.”
“I will prepare to leave at once,” replied Hadji, and he withdrew into his tent.
Abdul hurried away to sort his dates.
Together Abdul and Hadji loaded the camel with sacks of dates. Then they began the long journey across the desert toward the city. The morning had been warm, but the afternoon was hot. The two friends trudged along next to the heavily laden camel, saying little.
Abdul on one side of the camel walked comfortably, for he was in the shadow cast by the beast. Hadji on the other side struggled in the heat. Now and then he glanced at his friend striding along in the shadow.
Finally, Hadji could stand it no longer. “Friend Abdul,” he suggested, “I shall join you in the shadow. It is truly a warm day.”
“Friend Hadji,” replied Abdul, “I regret that it is impossible. Obviously there is only enough shade for one and I am already here.”
“Friend Abdul,” insisted Hadji, “if there is only enough shade for one, it should be my shade as it is the shadow of my camel.”
“Ah, but you loaned the camel to me,” resisted Abdul, “therefore, you loaned the shadow also.”
“Not so,” said Hadji. “I did not loan the shadow, only the camel.”
“They are one and the same,” cried Abdul.
“Not at all,” shouted Hadji.
The two friends continued to shout and wave their arms there in the middle of the desert. All the noise and commotion startled the camel, which was the cause of the argument, and he raced away from the two men, taking the load of dates with him.
“What fools we are,” complained Abdul as the two men trudged back toward the oasis in the heat of the afternoon. “If we had shared and taken turns walking in the shadow, we would have arrived in the city, sold the dates, and celebrated.”
“I agree, Friend Abdul,” said Hadji. “Because of our foolishness, we now both walk in the sun and must search for the dates and the camel. Certainly we have learned a lesson.”

Dean has had encouragement along the way. “You know, I had a favorite teacher in high school who was also my bishop. He said to me, ‘Listen, Dean. Now is the time for you to paint. I know you’d like to go out and play basketball or baseball and you’d like to be with the rest of your friends; but I’ll promise you that if you will do the art that you feel strongly about now, someday you’ll be able to play while your friends work.’ And you know, this has really come true. Now when I want to go somewhere I go—Alaska, New York, or down south. I’ll never have to worry about a job, I guess. My paintings are selling and I can say in them what I have to say. This is my form of communication. This is me, and if people like my art, they like me. I guess I have the best life in this world, because my fun is my work and my work is fun.”

There is another story about a little boy named Josh who was having terrible nightmares that were frightening him. He asked his father to kneel down and have a prayer with him to ask Heavenly Father to stop the dreams and nightmares.

Josh opened his prayer by thanking Heavenly Father for the blessings that were his. He then asked his Heavenly Father to have the nightmares stop and send him a confirmation through his feelings during the prayer. He said no more. He waited about a minute, said “thank you,” and closed the prayer. He had had his confirmation and comfort that his prayers were answered—that he would not have any more nightmares. What an important lesson for a young man to learn!

With covenants, obedience to gospel principles becomes rooted in our very soul. I am familiar with a couple where, at the time of their marriage, the wife was not active in the Church and the husband had never been a member of the Church. I will refer to them as Mary and John, not their real names. As children began to enter the picture, Mary felt keenly the need to raise them, as the scripture says, “in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.” John was supportive. Mary made some important sacrifices to be at home to teach the gospel on a consistent basis. She ensured that the family took full advantage of Church worship and activity. Mary and John became exemplary parents, and their children (all energetic boys) grew in faith and devotion to gospel principles and standards.

John’s parents, the boys’ grandparents, were pleased with the wholesome lives and achievements of their grandsons, but because of some antagonism toward the Church, they wanted to attribute this success exclusively to the parenting skills of John and Mary. John, although not a member of the Church, did not let that assessment go unchallenged. He insisted that they were witnessing the fruits of gospel teachings—what his sons were experiencing in church as well as what was happening at home.

John himself was being influenced by the Spirit, by the love and example of his wife, and by the urgings of his sons. In due course, he was baptized, much to the joy of ward members and friends.

While life has not been without challenges for them and their sons, Mary and John wholeheartedly affirm that it is in fact the gospel covenant that is at the root of their blessings. They have seen the Lord’s words to Jeremiah fulfilled in the lives of their children as well as their own: “I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts; and will be their God, and they shall be my people.”

Joseph F. and his wife Julina welcomed their first child, Mercy Josephine, into the family.7 She was only two and a half years old when she passed away. Shortly after, Joseph F. recorded: “It is one month yesterday since my … darling Josephine died. O! that I could have saved her to grow up to womanhood. I miss her every day and I am lonely. … God forgive my weakness if it is wrong to love my little ones as I love them.”8

When the Freiberg Germany Temple was dedicated in June 1985, the Area Presidency invited Jirí and Olga to attend. During one of the dedicatory sessions, President Gordon B. Hinckley asked Brother Snederfler to speak extemporaneously. Nervously, Jirí accepted the invitation. He spoke in Czech, and his words were translated into German and English. “I remember saying that the Freiberg temple had been built because of the great faith of the brothers and sisters in the DDR—and that it would also serve many members from Eastern Europe. I did not know then that the Freiberg temple and the prayers of its patrons would contribute to the fall of the Iron Curtain and would make it possible for Saints to come from many nations of Eastern Europe.” Nor did he know he and his wife would later serve as president and matron of that temple and would welcome those Saints to the house of the Lord!

I know a little girl who was born with very serious cleft lips and a cleft palate. She had to have the first of a series of many surgeries on the second day of her life. Moved by a genuine compassion for those who experience this same challenge, this girl and her parents seek to give support, understanding, and emotional assistance to others who face this difficult reality. They wrote to me recently and shared: “Through our daughter’s challenge, we had the opportunity to meet wonderful people who needed comfort, support, and encouragement. Some time ago, our daughter, who is 11 years old now, talked with the parents of a baby with the same challenge. During this conversation, our daughter momentarily took off the mask she was wearing due to the pandemic so the parents could see that there is hope, even though that baby still has a long way to go in the next few years to fix the problem. We feel very grateful for the opportunity to extend our empathy to those who suffer, as the Savior does for us. We feel we ease our pain every time we relieve someone else’s pain.”

Last summer I saw an interesting picture as I followed a car on the freeway. It was a large station wagon that had obviously endured many road skirmishes. The top rack was loaded with luggage; the seats were loaded with people. Four bare feet hung out the rear window, and elbows and arms hung out the side windows. In the front seat, the mother was wrestling with a feisty child while simultaneously trying to calm an upset infant. The father was desperately trying to negotiate the heavy traffic. It was obviously vacation time for this family. As I surveyed the situation with some degree of empathy, I noticed a bumper sticker which read, “Are we having fun yet?”
I laugh about this scene whenever I recall it. I believe it is amusing because it exhibits a wry insight into human nature. It reveals a very real aspect of the human condition: the largely unfulfilled pursuit of happiness. The implications of the question “Are we having fun yet?” are profound. How many people in this world pursue happiness but find that it eludes them? They contrive pleasures, invent amusements, and invest heavily in recreation. They go abroad in search of this rare gift but fail to see that evidence of it is all around them; the source is within them.
As I have occasion to be with wonderful people throughout the world, I am often moved by the many individuals I meet who are looking for happiness, but not quite finding it. They yearn and strive and endure, but seem to be asking, “Am I happy yet?” I desire to assure you that happiness is real. It can be experienced here, and we can know a fulness of joy in the hereafter. May I share with you some insights about the kind of happiness promised by the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Lehi’s words to his son Jacob include a profound truth: “All things have been done in the wisdom of him who knoweth all things.
“Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.” (2 Ne. 2:24–25.)
Our wise and loving Father in Heaven is concerned for the welfare of his children. He desires to see us happy. The very purpose of our lives can be defined in terms of happiness. The Prophet Joseph Smith said, “Happiness is the object and design of our existence; and will be the end thereof, if we pursue the path that leads to it.” (History of the Church, 5:134.)
Our yearnings for happiness were implanted in our hearts by Deity. They represent a kind of homesickness, for we have a residual memory of our premortal existence. They are also a foretaste of the fulness of joy that is promised to the faithful. We can expect with perfect faith that our Father will fulfill our innermost longings for joy. In fact, the plan he has given to guide us is called “the plan of happiness.” (Alma 42:16.) In the meridian of time, it was heralded by angelic messengers as “good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.” (Luke 2:10.)
The Book of Mormon makes it clear that happiness is our destiny. It speaks of dwelling “with God in a state of never-ending happiness.” (Mosiah 2:41.) It is also made clear that “all things shall be restored to their proper order, every thing to its natural frame, … raised to endless happiness to inherit the kingdom of God, or to endless misery to inherit the kingdom of the devil.” We also learn that we are “raised to happiness according to [our] desires of happiness.” (Alma 41:4–5.)
Words such as reap, restored, and desire imply that happiness is a consequence, not a reward. We are restored to a state of happiness when we have chosen to live according to the plan of happiness. Our joy in God’s kingdom will be a natural extension of the happiness we cultivate in this life.
Our happiness is diminished by at least two things: sin and adversity. Of the two, sin is the most tragic. Sin is the most persistent cause of human suffering and of the two brings the deepest remorse. Sin and the temptation to do evil are part of our mortal test. We are being tried to see if we will choose good or evil. It is a hard test, and only those who have resisted temptation can know and gain the strength thereof. Sin is sin because it destroys instead of saves; it tears down instead of builds, it causes despair instead of hope.
The Book of Mormon speaks of men that are in a “carnal state … and in the bonds of iniquity; they are without God in the world, and they have gone contrary to the nature of God; therefore, they are in a state contrary to the nature of happiness.” (Alma 41:11.) It also records Samuel the Lamanite’s warning to the Nephites: “Ye have sought all the days of your lives for that which ye could not obtain; and ye have sought for happiness in doing iniquity, which thing is contrary to the nature of that righteousness which is in our great and Eternal Head.” (Hel. 13:38.)
The doctrine is concisely summarized by Alma: “Behold, I say unto you, wickedness never was happiness.” (Alma 41:10; italics added.) If we are not pure, we would be miserable in the presence of God and Christ, who are by their very nature happy and joyful and cannot look upon sin with any allowance.
The suffering that results from sin is most tragic because through our own choices we can choose to avoid it. We have that power. We also have the capacity to repent of our sins and to experience the sweet joy of forgiveness. If we are unhappy, let us examine ourselves to see where we need to repent. If we have questions about what we need to do, or not do, we need only listen to our conscience and follow the promptings of the Spirit.
I am acquainted with a man who rebelled from the Church when he was a youth. He made some mistakes during this time and developed some habits. Eventually, however, he came to himself; he served a mission and returned home to hold many responsible positions in the Church. But he was never quite happy. He could have said as did Nephi:
“I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me.
“And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins.” (2 Ne. 4:18–19.)
Finally, in a night of spiritual turmoil, the man confessed to himself that he had never fully forsaken his sins. Although he had not committed sins worthy of Church court action, he still harbored attitudes and thoughts that robbed him of spirituality, and he went through cycles of guilt and despair that dampened his happiness. He made up his mind to change, and he kept his resolve. He broke the chain of sin and despair and, for the first time in memory, began to experience a real, true happiness. If someone had asked him, “Are we having fun, experiencing happiness, yet?” he could have answered, “Yes, more happiness, or joy, than I could have imagined.”
Striving for happiness is a long, hard journey with many challenges. It requires eternal vigilance to win the victory. You cannot succeed with sporadic little flashes of effort. Constant and valiant living is necessary. That is why patience and faith are so often associated in the scriptures. You must “withstand every temptation of the devil, with [your] faith on the Lord Jesus Christ.” (Alma 37:33.) But remember, faith is not a magical formula. It requires that you make a deliberate decision to do good and then carry out your decision. Do it. Simply do it, and do it long enough that you experience success, no matter how hard it may seem. Your victory over self brings communion with God and results in happiness—lasting and eternal happiness.
The other thing that may diminish our happiness is adversity. Adversity is also part of our mortal probation, experienced by everyone. It is different, however, from sin. While we can choose to avoid sin, we usually cannot choose whether we experience adversity. I am convinced if we are to have happiness in our hearts, we must learn how to preserve it, in our hearts, in the midst of trouble and trial. We can control our attitude toward adversity. Some people are defeated and embittered by it, while others triumph over it and cultivate godlike attributes in the midst of it.
I recall a true story from our pioneer heritage that illustrates how we can choose our response to adversity. Over one hundred years ago a Swedish family who had joined the Church faced a long ocean voyage to America, a train trip from New York to Omaha, and then a trek by wagon train to Salt Lake City. During their train trip they rode in stock cars used to haul hogs. The cars were filthy and filled with hog lice. On their wagon trip across the plains, a healthy baby was born, but their three-year-old contracted cholera. During the night, the father went to a neighboring wagon to borrow a candle, but was told they couldn’t spare one. This angered him, and he fumed as he sat in the dark with his son’s limp, feverish body in his arms. The boy died that night.
The next morning the wagon master said they would hold a short funeral and bury the boy in a shallow grave. They were in Indian country and didn’t have time to do more. The father insisted on staying behind and digging a grave deep enough so the animals would not disturb the body. They experienced other hardships before they reached Salt Lake City.
Now, both the mother and the father experienced the same trials, but the father became withdrawn, cantankerous, and bitter. He stopped going to church, found fault with Church leaders. He became caught up in his own miseries, and the light of Christ grew dimmer and dimmer in his life.
On the other hand, the mother’s faith increased. Each new problem seemed to make her stronger. She became an angel of mercy—filled with empathy, compassion, and charity. She was a light to those around her. Her family gravitated toward her and looked to her as their leader. She was happy; he was miserable. (See Steve Dunn Hanson, Ensign, Feb. 1981, pp. 54–55.)
I would offer one key to maintaining your happiness in spite of adversity. Christ said, “For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: but whosoever will lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it.” (Luke 9:24.) If you would find happiness and joy, lose your life in some noble cause. A worthy purpose must be at the center of every worthy life. President Stephen L. Richards noted that life is a mission, not a career. (See Where Is Wisdom, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1955, p. 74.) As Church members, our mission should be the greatest, noblest mission in the universe—the salvation of souls. President David O. McKay was fond of quoting the poet Robert Browning, who said, “There is an answer to the passionate longings of the heart for fullness, and I knew it, and the answer is this: Live in all things outside yourself by love, and you will have joy. That is the life of God; it ought to be our life. In him it is accomplished and perfect; but in all created things it is a lesson learned slowly and through difficulty.” (Quoted in Stepping Stones to an Abundant Life, comp. Llewelyn R. McKay, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1971, p. 119.)
Service helps us forget our own travails; it enlarges our souls and gives us greater capacity to endure our own trials.
Now, I have spoken of our Father’s plan of happiness by which he guides us into eternal joy. I have talked about overcoming sin through repentance and self-mastery, and I have spoken of taking the edge off adversity through selfless service. Self-mastery and service are keys to our Father’s plan. Christ told his disciples:
“If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love. …
“These things I have spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full.” (John 15:10–11.)
The commandments are guides to happiness. I implore you to follow them.
“Are we having fun yet, experiencing true happiness?” I certainly am. I find great joy in life in obeying and serving. I pray that you may also discover the elusive treasure of true happiness through the means that were ordained by our Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

When Amy R. decided to read the Bible all the way through, her first thought was, “Wow, this is going to take so long.”
It was 2006, and Amy had just finished President Gordon B. Hinckley’s (1910–2008) challenge to read the Book of Mormon. Because she felt so good when she accomplished her goal, she decided to read the Bible next.
“When I first opened the Bible, I thought maybe it was too much,” Amy says. “But I also knew that if I never started the Bible, I would never finish the Bible.”
Amy began reading a little bit every night, just as she had done with the Book of Mormon. She did that for the next two years.
Sometimes Amy’s schedule was busier than usual. Sometimes at night she was tired and just wanted to go to sleep. But even when these things happened, she kept going.
There were times when Amy didn’t understand what she was reading. She would pray to Heavenly Father and ask Him to help her understand. Amy says those prayers were always answered. She also says reading the scriptures helped her know how to use words such as Thee and Thy when she prays.
In December 2008, when she was 10 years old, Amy finished the Bible. As a special Christmas gift, she wrote a letter to her dad about her experience. When her dad read the letter, his eyes filled with tears. “I almost felt like crying too because I was so happy,” Amy says. “I knew I had done a good thing.”
Does Amy have a favorite verse from her reading? No, but she says she often thinks about the people in the scriptures.“Knowing stories from the scriptures has helped me with my problems,” Amy says. “When I start feeling bad for myself, I compare my problem to the problems of the people in the scriptures. That helps me to have a better attitude and be more thankful about my situation. The scriptures have changed my life and helped me be happier.”

At the end of January 1831, Joseph and Emma Smith traveled to Ohio from New York in a horse-drawn sleigh. It was very cold, and Emma was expecting a baby. They arrived safely in front of Newel K. Whitney’s store in Kirtland during the first part of February. As they stopped, the prophet sprang from the sleigh, entered the store, and approached Brother Whitney, whom he had never met before. “Newel K. Whitney!” he declared, extending his hand to shake. “Thou art the man.” “You have the advantage of me,” replied Brother Whitney. “I could not call you by name as you have me.” “I am Joseph the Prophet. You prayed me here, now what do you want of me?” Joseph then explained that while he was still in New York he had seen Brother Whitney in a vision, praying for him to come to Kirtland. With great joy, the Whitneys made room in their home for the Smiths until they could find another place to live.

Several years ago I met one of our sons in the mission field in a distant part of the world. He had been there for a year. His first question was this: “Dad, what can I do to grow spiritually? I have tried so hard to grow spiritually, and I just haven’t made any progress.”
That was his perception: to me it was otherwise. I could hardly believe the maturity, the spiritual growth that he had gained in just one year. He “knew it not,” for it had come as growth, not as a startling spiritual experience.

One of the challenges I have been blessed with (ah, perspective) are chronic migraines. One morning I woke up with one and I knew that day I had to go to work, because I had signed up for a workshop in which tithing funds had been used for me to attend. So I took some medicine, said a prayer, and went. That day we learned about strengths and how we all have been anointed with strengths by our Heavenly Father. We learned that those strengths we have are unique to us. When we use our strengths for good, we can be better used as a tool by which we were designed.

Perceptions of others in my eyes were also changed. One of the things that had the biggest impact on me that day was when she talked to us about toxic conversations. She taught us that when we are frustrated with someone it's because they have strengths that are not connecting with our strength. When this happens we need to stop and look out (see it through their lens), and then look up. Turn to your Heavenly Father realizing that those same strengths that seem to be frustrating us are the same strengths that our Heavenly Father possesses. Perspective.

Now, can we see them and the conversation in a different way? When we look at those experiences in that way can we put our own perceptions away and listen, observe, and learn from them? Can we just try to see them through our Heavenly Fathers eyes?

When I think of what I could have missed that day if I would have let my challenge get in my way. I would be different, even this talk written today would be different. That day I gained knowledge, understanding, and learning through my observations and being actively engaged. I have been able to use those things I learned in just that one day in all areas of my life.

Heavenly Father has sent us all here to be His tools and His hands. It is up to us to do our part to be allowed to be molded to become and reach our full potential. Sometimes our part is just having the courage to say or do something when moved upon by the Spirit without knowing why. By having trust in the Lord and the Holy Ghost, knowing there is a greater plan (and that His plan is a better one) we can help others succeed and get closer to our Heavenly Father's eternal perspective and our potential. That day my life was molded in a way I was not expecting and with that touch in my life I have been able to take what I learned to help others see maybe what they had not seen before.

Regina's love and testimony of Jesus Christ is reminiscent of that of a remarkable Tongan Relief society sister, Vaikato TÄ‚¤vutu, I learned about in Tonga. In 1958, withered and frail, Vaikato was over 100 years old when the building missionaries arrived in her island of 'Uiha to build the chapel. Vaikato was eager to assist. Brother LaVell Manwaring, foreman of the 'Uiha, project gives this account of Vaikato:

"She was on the work site the next morning helping to fill the barrels with water with which to mix the mortar; she was also carrying the coral bricks to the builders. I spoke to her through an interpreter and told her not to carry the water. The buckets were too heavy for her and the men could do it. I also asked her to please only carry one brick at a time, as they were about the size of our cinder blocks. However, as soon as I was out of sight, she started carrying two bricks at a time again. One of the Tongan builders came to me and asked for some gloves for Vaikato because her hands were bleeding from the rough blocks. I got down from the scaffold and went to the lady, admonishing her again through the interpreter to only carry one brick at a time. I took off my gloves and gave them to her."

"The tears started running down Vaikato's cheeks, and I thought I had wounded her feelings. Then I noticed the tears rolling down the interpreter's face. He told me, "The little lady says that the Savior's hands had bled for her and that she was not ashamed to have her hands bleed for the Savior's work."

"I saw Vaikato raise her hands in prayer many times to thank Heavenly Father for letting her live to see the chapel being built. Tears of gratitude ran down her face. I have never known anyone who could put the working spirit into a group of young men like Vaikato. She was the first one on the job in the morning, getting things ready for work. When it got hot during the day and the labor missionaries started to slow down, she would call out to them in Tongan, and they would take new heart."

"The day the builders left the island, Vaikato waded out in the ocean as far as she could to tell us goodbye and to thank us for coming to her island to build such a beautiful building. I could see her waving a white handkerchief for a long ways as went out to sea."

I was powerfully taught this lesson on a spring Monday eight years ago. The wife of my boyhood home teacher Craig Moore, Lila, was passing away. She was 92 and had been widowed for 16 years. Lila’s children, Kathy and Merrill, were on their way to Idaho but hadn’t arrived.

Lila was struggling for air with such strength that her legs rose off the bed with each breath. I had given her a blessing that mentioned the First Resurrection and reuniting with Craig. Yet, she was determined to remain on Earth. In what seemed to be delirium, she declared repeatedly, “I have too much to do.”

Into her final hour, Lila repeatedly asserted that she would get better. But the labored breathing began to slow. She held my hand to the end.

How blessed we are to have the capacity to honor and prolong the lives of our forebears. They can teach us things—from both sides of the veil—that we cannot otherwise learn before it is too late to make good use of them on Earth.

One night our ward held an activity that we had spent hours preparing for. After the activity a young investigator said goodbye to me but a few minutes later returned and asked, “Bishop, when do I need to come back?” I told him Sunday, and the boy quickly said, “No, isn’t there another activity?” He had had such a good time with the youth of our ward that he wanted to come back.
I also conversed with a visiting couple who had attended the activity and asked them what they had thought. The husband said, “Since we got here, we have felt peace and tranquility,” which his wife affirmed with a nod of her head. I was surprised by this because when they first arrived, there had been a lot of people talking and making a racket. But he continued and looked at me and asked, “That’s the Holy Ghost, right?” Surprised, I could only say yes.
There had been a lot to do to get ready for this activity, so that night when everything ended, the only thing I had wanted to do was go home and go to bed. Because of how tired I was, I had not been able to think over my conversations with the investigators. When I got home, I said my prayers and got into bed, but I couldn’t sleep; in my mind I pictured the Lord smiling. It was a smile of acceptance. At that moment I began to remember the wonderful things that had happened at the activity.
I understood that the diligence and love of the ward members had made it possible for the hearts of those three investigators to be touched. I understood that the smile of acceptance was for what we were doing. I couldn’t avoid crying, and I felt so grateful for the gift that the Lord gave us. He had given us a smile of acceptance. I testify that the Lord’s words are true; that when we bring but one soul to Him, great will be our joy in the kingdom of the Father (see D&C 18:15).

Lydia watched Mommy get ready for work. Mommy put on pretty pink lipstick. She looked beautiful.
Lydia looked in the mirror. She felt sad. “I don’t have any lipstick,” Lydia said. “So I’m not beautiful.”
Mommy hugged her tight. “Wearing lipstick isn’t what makes people beautiful. Being strong and kind makes people beautiful.”
“Strong like having lots of muscles?” Lydia asked.
Mommy smiled. “No. This kind of strong means choosing the right.”
“How?” asked Lydia.
“Well, you are strong and kind when your hands help others,” Mommy said.
“You are strong and kind when your heart loves everyone.
“And you are strong and kind when you smile. That makes everyone happy too.
“Being strong and kind makes you beautiful inside, not just outside.”
Lydia wanted to be strong and kind!
She used her hands to carry the mail in for Grandpa. She gave her last cookie to her cousin.
She felt love in her heart when she played with a new neighbor. And she felt love when she gave coins to a girl collecting money for people who didn’t have homes.
She smiled at people she saw. They all smiled back.
That night Lydia told Mommy, “You are right! I feel strong and kind. I used my hands and my heart and my smile today.”
Mommy smiled. “You are strong and kind, just like Jesus wants you to be!”