Gospel Story Finder

Let me illustrate what all of this means. A few years ago I was asked to speak to a group of young men. I don’t remember now exactly what was said, except that near the end I made the statement that no one, but no one, present had done anything for which he could not be forgiven.
After the meeting was over one of them came up to me and said, “I just have to talk to you.” Inasmuch as I soon had another appointment, I asked if it could wait or if someone else could answer his question. He replied that he had already waited many years and that it was very important to him.
So taking advantage of the few minutes available, we found a little unused classroom, went in, and closed the door. “Did you really mean it? Did you?” he asked.
“Mean what?” I said.
“The part about how none of us had done anything that could not be forgiven,” he replied.
“Of course I did,” I said.
Through his tears his story came. He was of goodly parents. All of his life his mother had told him that he was going on a mission. Before he turned nineteen he was involved in serious transgression. He didn’t know how to tell his parents. He knew it would break their hearts. He knew that he wasn’t worthy to serve a mission. In desperation, he began to look for an excuse not to go. He decided to take up smoking. He felt that his father could understand that better and would not probe for the real reason. Smoking would hurt his parents, he rationalized, but not as deeply as the truth.
He soon found, however, that the bishop wasn’t put off by his use of tobacco. The bishop told him to just stop it and go on a mission anyway. So to get away from the bishop, he entered the military service. There he fell under the influence of some good Latter-day Saints. He stopped smoking. He was able to avoid major temptations. He served his time, received an honorable discharge, and returned home.
There was only one problem. He felt guilty. He had run away from a mission. He had run from the Lord and sensed somehow that gnawing discontent which comes when men do not live up to the purpose of their creation.
“So there you have it,” he said. “I have not sinned again. I have attended my meetings. I keep the Word of Wisdom. Why is it that life seems empty? Why do I feel somehow that the Lord is displeased with me? How can I know for sure I have been forgiven?”
“Tell me what you know about repentance,” I said.
He had obviously done some reading on the subject. He spoke of recognition, remorse, and restitution. He had resolved never to sin again.
“Let’s see just how those principles apply to you,” I said. “Let’s begin with recognition. What is the best indicator that someone recognizes he has done wrong?”
“He will admit it,” was his reply.
“To whom?” I asked.
He was thoughtful. “To himself, I guess.”
“Men sometimes view themselves in a most favorable light,” I said. “Wouldn’t better evidence of awareness of wrongdoing be to tell someone else?”
“Yes, of course,” he answered.
“Who else?” I insisted.
“Why, the person wronged,” he said, “and … and maybe the bishop.”
“Have you done this?” I asked.
“Not until now,” he replied. “I’ve never told it all to anyone but you.”
“Maybe that is why you have not ever felt completely forgiven,” I responded.
He didn’t say much.
“Let’s look at the next step,” I said. “What does it mean to feel remorse?”
“It means to be sorry,” he answered.
“Are you sorry?” I asked.
“Oh yes,” he said. “I feel as if I had wasted half my life.” And his eyes filled again with tears.
“How sorry should you be?”
He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
I said, “Well, in order to be forgiven, a transgressor must experience godly sorrow. (See 2 Cor. 7:10.) He must have anguish of soul and genuine regret. This sorrow must be strong enough and long enough to motivate the additional processes of repentance, or it is not deep enough. Regret must be great enough so as to bring forth a changed person. That person must demonstrate that he is different than before by doing different and better things. Have you been sorry enough?” I asked again.
He hesitated. “I’ve changed,” he said. “I’m not the same as I was before. I keep all the commandments now. I would like somehow to make it up to my parents. I have prayed for forgiveness. I apologized to the person I wronged. I realize the seriousness of what I have done. I would give anything if it hadn’t happened. Maybe I haven’t been as good as I could be, but I don’t know what else to do. But I didn’t ever confess to anyone.”
I said, “I think after this meeting we can say you have even done that.”
Then he said, “But after all of that, how can I ever know the Lord has really forgiven me?”
“That is the easy part,” I replied. “When you have fully repented, you feel an inner peace. You know somehow you are forgiven because the burden you have carried for so long, all of a sudden isn’t there anymore. It is gone and you know it is gone.”
He seemed doubtful still.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I said, “if when you leave this room, you discover that you have left much of your concern in here. If you have fully repented, the relief and the peace you feel will be so noticeable that it will be a witness to you that the Lord has forgiven you. If not today, I think it will happen soon.”
I was late for my meeting. I opened the door and we went out together. I didn’t know if we would ever meet again. The following Sunday evening, I received a telephone call at my home. It was from the young man.
“Brother Howard, how did you know?”
“How did I know what?” I asked.
“How did you know I would feel good about myself for the first time in five years?”
“Because the Lord promised he would remember no more,” I said. (See Heb. 8:12.)
Then came the question: “Do you think the Church could use a twenty-four-year-old missionary? If they could, I would sure like to go.”
Well, that young man was like one of the glasses we spoke about. He had been out in the world and was partially filled with the wrong things. He was not content. Sin had clouded his vision and interfered with his potential. Until he could find a way to repent, he could never become what he knew he should be. It took time to change. It took prayer. It took effort, and it took help.
My young friend discovered that repentance is often a lonely, silent struggle. It is not a once-in-a-lifetime thing; rather, it lasts a lifetime. As President Stephen L Richards once said, it is an “ever-recurring acknowledgement of weakness and error and [a] seeking and living for the higher and better.” (In Conference Report, Apr. 1956, p. 91.)
This young man came to know that repentance is not a free gift. Just as faith without works is dead (see James 2:17)—so repentance, too, demands much. It is not for the fainthearted or the lazy. It requires a complete turning away from wrongdoing and a set of new works or doings which produce a new heart and a different man. Repentance means work. It is not just stopping doing something. It is not just recognizing the wrong or knowing what should be done. It is not “a cycle of sinning and repenting and sinning again.” (Hugh B. Brown, Eternal Quest, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1956, p. 102.)
It is not only remorse; rather, it is an eternal principle which, when properly applied over sufficient time, always results in renewal, cleansing, and change.
The young man we have spoken about discovered that where sin is so serious as to jeopardize one’s fellowship in the Church, the sinner must be willing to submit to the jurisdiction and judgment of the person who holds the custody of his Church membership and request forgiveness of him as well.
Most important of all, he learned that repentance is an indispensable counterpart to free agency. Free agency in the plan of salvation contemplates that men and women are free to choose the direction of their lives for themselves. Repentance means that as imperfect beings sometimes make imperfect decisions, they may correct their course. By following the rules of repentance, and through the atonement of Jesus Christ, mistakes don’t count. The Lord agrees to “remember no more.” (Heb. 8:12.) Because of the miraculous gift of forgiveness, transgressions are forgiven—and forgotten. Men can be cleansed and return to the path of purpose and progress and peace.
By repenting, my young friend became a new person. He was born again of the Spirit. He came to understand for himself, and that is the important thing, the meaning of the Savior’s words: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matt. 11:28.) I so testify, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

During April 1993 my father was buying groceries at a local store in the little town of Realicó, Argentina. Two young men approached him and asked if they could visit his family. My father agreed, and they soon came to our home.
I can still hear my little brother, Sebastián, running to my bedroom and whispering excitedly, “Come look! The missionaries are here!” We had seen them on the streets before, and I must confess we had made fun of them.
That day they shared the Book of Mormon with my parents. They stopped by two days later, and to their amazement my mother had read the whole book and had a list of questions. The missionaries were very excited, but my parents were not looking for a change of religion as much as they were interested in developing a friendship with the elders. “Talk all you want, but you will not get a convert out of this family” was my parents’ first reaction to the discussions. Still the missionaries continued to teach us with a lot of faith and patience.
On a cold night we offered to take the elders home after a discussion. On the way back to our house I asked my mother if she was really thinking of being baptized into this new religion. Her reply stunned me: “If I find it to be the truth, then I will get baptized.” I realized I should also know for myself if it was true.
When the commitment to obey the Word of Wisdom came up in the discussions, I thought it was the end. My mother had tried to stop smoking for 16 years without positive results, and my father sometimes drank alcohol at social events. I didn’t think we needed to change our lifestyle to please some strange religion. Still the missionaries asked us to pray to find out if the gospel had been restored and if Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. A miracle occurred because my mother was able to stop smoking. She knew God was trying to let her know the Church was true, and she was baptized.
I kept reading and praying, and once I had a testimony of the Book of Mormon, I entered the waters of baptism. A few weeks later my father made the same decision, and two years later so did my brother. Although I was only 13 years old when I joined the Church, I knew I had found the greatest treasure ever.
We were sealed as an eternal family in the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple, and we have discovered the joy the gospel brings to our lives. As I look back, I can see the Spirit of God working in our hearts and helping us come out of the darkness into the light.
I love my family. I love the gospel. I love being a missionary. And now when I knock on a door and people say, “Talk all you want, but you will not get a convert out of this family,” I smile and pray that the Spirit will touch them the way it touched my family 10 years ago.

When Tyler was four, he loved listening to the piano and wanted to start taking lessons. As soon as he grew tall enough for his feet to reach the pedals, he started playing the organ. He loves it!
Tyler wakes up at 5:30 every morning so he can play the organ at the Church building before school. Once Tyler got to play “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet” on the Tabernacle organ on Temple Square.
Tyler also plays the prelude music for sacrament meeting. He says, “Playing music makes me happy because when I go on my mission, I’ll be able to play.”

It is related of Spinola and Richardet, the ambassadors sent by the king of Spain to negotiate a treaty at the Hague in Holland in 1608, that one day they saw about eight or ten persons land from a little boat and, sitting down upon the grass, proceed to eat a meal of bread, cheese, and drink.
“Who are those travelers?” asked the ambassadors of a peasant.
“These are our worshipped masters, the deputies from the state,” was his reply.
Spinola at once whispered, “These are not men to be conquered.” (From Happy Homes and the Hearts That Make Them by Samuel Smiles.)

When Mom looked up from peeling the potatoes for supper, she saw Lucas standing in the kitchen doorway with a furrowed brow and a book in his hand. “What are you reading that makes you look so serious?” Mom questioned, wiping her hands on a towel.
“This.” Lucas held up his book so that Mom could see the cover.
Mom sat in a kitchen chair and lifted Lucas onto her lap. “I thought that The Night Before Christmas was one of your happy books,” she said.
“It is, Mom, but why is Santa smoking a pipe?” Lucas asked. “Isn’t he a Latter-day Saint like us?”
Mom was quiet for a bit as they looked at the picture of Santa with his pipe making a circle of smoke around his head. “I guess,” she said slowly, “that maybe the missionaries haven’t been to the North Pole yet to teach him about the restored gospel and about why it’s so important not to smoke.”
“But, Mom, everybody knows Santa Claus. Why hasn’t someone told him?”
“I don’t know,” Mom answered, stroking Lucas’s hair gently. “I guess someone really should.” Then she gave Lucas a squeeze and asked, “Do you want to help me peel the potatoes?”
“No thanks, Mom,” he replied. “I need some ‘time out to think’ time.”
“OK, Champ, but don’t be late for supper,” she said as he slid off her lap and headed for his bedroom.
Lucas climbed onto his bed, lay on his stomach, and opened his book again to the page with Santa smoking. All that year they had been learning in Primary about being missionaries. Sister Franklin had said that even a Sunbeam could be a missionary. Santa must have held a lot of Sunbeams on his lap. Hadn’t even one of them told Santa about being a Mormon? Suddenly Lucas scrambled off the bed, ran over to his bookshelves, put away his storybook, and took his favorite book from the shelf. He had a happy smile on his face when he went into the living room. He had a plan.
That night after supper Lucas asked Mom and Dad to come to his bedroom for a meeting. Mom didn’t even wash the dishes first, because she could tell that this was an important meeting to Lucas. When his parents were seated on the bed, Lucas showed them a package wrapped in newspaper comics. “Billy Anderson said that Santa is going to be at the mall this Saturday. I want give this to him.”
“You want to give Santa a present?” Dad asked. “That’s wonderful. Do you mind if we ask what it is, Son?”
Lucas showed Dad the page in his storybook with Santa and the pipe. “You see, Dad, I don’t think that Santa is a member of the Church. Mom said that maybe no one has told him about Heavenly Father’s plan and about not smoking. So I want to give him the Book of Mormon that you gave me when we started to read it as a family. I thought that you and Mom could give me another one for Christmas. That way Santa will know about what’s important, and maybe he’ll stop smoking that pipe.”
Dad reached out and pulled Lucas onto his lap. Mom reached over and patted his hand. Her eyes were watery, and Dad’s were too. That surprised Lucas a little. “It’s all right to give my Book of Mormon to Santa, isn’t it, Dad?”
“Yes, Son. It’s more than all right—it’s terrific! I’m very proud of you, Lucas. I’m proud that you want to be a missionary and share the gospel with others.”
Mom said, “Lucas, why don’t you let me help you write your testimony in the front of the book. You can put your name and address inside so that Santa will know who cares so much about him. Then you can wrap it again in Christmas paper, and I bet I can even find a bow for you to put on top. Would you like that?”
“Yea! All right!” Lucas yelled, ripping off the wrapping as fast as he could.
Dad took a pen out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Mom.
“Dear Santa,” Lucas began, “I am worried about you because I saw in a picture that you smoke. Smoking is bad for you. Heavenly Father loves us and wants us to be good to our bodies. This book is all about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I read it with my family every day. It makes me happy. You are so nice to all the children that I want you to be happy too.”
“That sounds great, Son,” Dad said. “I’m glad to hear that reading the Book of Mormon as a family makes you happy.”
“I want to write my name,” Lucas told Mom. “You can write our phone number under it.”
Afterward Dad did the dishes while Mom helped Lucas cut, fold, and tape the Christmas wrapping paper. Lucas put a big gold bow on last, and the gift looked super. Then Mom put it on top of the refrigerator so that nothing would happen to it before Saturday.
On Saturday morning there was a long line of children waiting at the mall to sit on Santa’s lap. It was hard for Lucas to wait, but finally his turn came. He was so excited that he jumped onto Santa’s lap.
“Well,” Santa exclaimed, “aren’t you happy today! And what do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?”
“Nothing,” Lucas said. “I just want to give you this.” He handed the gift to Santa, give him a hug, and ran back to his mom and dad. When he looked over his shoulder, Santa was just sitting there, looking a little surprised.
That night Lucas was brushing his teeth when the phone rang. Dad answered it and talked for a few minutes, then called Lucas. “The phone call’s for you, Lucas. It’s Santa Claus.”
“Wow! Really?” he shouted as he ran to the phone.
“Hello, Lucas. Remember me? You sat on my lap and gave me a present this morning.”
“Sure I remember. Did you read the Book of Mormon?”
“Well, I haven’t had time to read the whole thing,” the voice on the phone said with a chuckle. “I had to work all day. But I did read what you wrote in it and the first few pages. I was wondering if I could come over tonight and meet your mom and dad.”
“Great!” Lucas exclaimed. “I’ll ask them. Dad, Mom, Santa wants to know if he can come over to our house tonight. He can, can’t he?”
“Sure he can,” Dad answered. “Why don’t you let me talk to him for a few minutes after you finish so I can make sure that he knows how to find our house.”
“Dad, he’s Santa Claus. He knows where everyone lives.”
“You’re probably right, but I’d still like to talk to him. It’s not every day that Santa Claus calls on the phone.”
Lucas grinned. “It’s OK with my dad,” he said, “and anything OK with him is OK with Mom.” He handed Dad the phone and ran into the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth.
When Lucas went back to the living room, he asked, “Do you think he’ll come in his sleigh?”
“No,” Dad answered. “He’ll be driving a dark blue car. We need to talk about that for a few minutes, OK?”
Lucas said, “If you mean that he’s not really Santa, but just one of Santa’s helpers, I already know that. His beard didn’t fit him very good, and he was a lot skinnier than Santa is.”
“Then you won’t be surprised when this Santa comes to the door as a young college man?”
“No, I could tell by his voice that he wasn’t an old man. And the real Santa would have to be pretty old if he were flying around when your were little.”
“Well, then, you know, Lucas,” Dad said, “that the most important thing is that you tried to share the Book of Mormon with someone, whether or not he was the real Santa.”
“I know. Missionaries teach everyone they can.”
Just then a car pulled into the driveway. Lucas jumped up and ran out the door before the young man even had time to get out of his car.
“Come in, Santa Claus,” he shouted. “We’re going to tell you all about the Book of Mormon and Jesus Christ and everything!”
Valentine Day was on Saturday that year, and Lucas got dressed in his Sunday clothes. He took an extra long time washing his face and brushing his hair so that he’d look just right.
“Are you ready, Lucas?” Mom called from the living room. “John is here.”
John was the Santa Claus helper, and today he was going to be baptized. Lucas shook John’s hand, and then John reached down and picked him up. “How about a hug, too?” he asked.
“Sure,” Lucas said, squeezing with all his might. “You may be only Santa’s helper, John,” he whispered, “but you’re the best Santa in the world to me.”
“And you’re the best missionary in the world to me,” John whispered back.

Will loved the warm desert of southern Utah. He was 10 years old—old enough to go to school and climb on the nearby red rocks and help care for the trees and vegetables his family grew. Or tried to grow, anyway. It was 1899, the driest year anyone in St. George could remember.
“We need rain!” Will thought as he walked home from school one day. No rain had fallen for months, and the alfalfa fields looked brown and thirsty.
As usual, Will felt the hot sun pound down on him, and gritty sweat started to trickle down the sides of his face. But then Will noticed something that was not usual. All the grown-ups were huddled together in small groups talking. Something exciting was happening!
“The prophet, President Lorenzo Snow, is traveling all the way to St. George,” Will’s mother explained when he got home. “He’s going to hold a special conference for us.”
When President Snow came, Will went to the tabernacle to hear him speak. The prophet said he wasn’t sure why the Lord had wanted him to come to St. George. It was a hard time for everyone. The Church didn’t have enough money to pay for the meetinghouses and temples.
On the second day of the conference, President Snow asked all the children to line up in their Primary classes.
“I shall shake hands with each child present so that they may be able to say that they have shaken hands with a man who has shaken hands with a man who saw God face to face while in the flesh—Joseph Smith,” President Snow said.
Will stretched to peer over the other children as President Snow shook their hands one by one. When it was his turn, Will looked into the face of the prophet and felt warm and light inside.
Later, Will got the same feeling again when President Snow gave another talk. He said he knew what message the Lord wanted him to share with the people of the Church: They needed to pay tithing!
“The time has now come for every Latter-day Saint … to pay his tithing in full,” President Snow said. “If you do, the Lord will open up the way before you in a manner that will astonish you.”
Will knew that what the prophet had said was true. From then on, when he gathered eggs from the chicken coop, he set aside the first of every 10 eggs to take to the bishop. When his father earned a dollar fixing a wagon, he gave 10 cents to the Lord. After his mother milked the cow, she gave one jar of the milk for tithing.
For the next three months, Will’s family and friends kept paying their tithing and taking care of their crops.
But there was still no rain. They used what little water they had to try to keep their plants alive. They knew the Lord would bless them in His own time.
Several months later, tiny dark dots began to appear on the dusty dirt roads around town. It was raining in St. George! Everyone shouted for joy as the thirsty ground drank up the water falling from the sky.
“Quick, go get a barrel to catch the water that’s running off the roof!” Will’s mother said. As he ran, Will smiled up at the sky and let the raindrops splash down on his face.
That evening, he knelt in prayer with his family, thanking God for the blessing of rain.
Will watched his family’s crops grow strong and healthy that summer. He knew that something else had grown that summer as well: his testimony of prophets and tithing.

Let me tell you of a young man I knew some years ago. He began dating long before he was 16. He took young ladies out alone, to places where he and a girlfriend ought not to have gone. He began going steady. Hand-holding led to kissing, kissing to more passionate kissing, then petting, and finally fornication a number of times in his later teen years.

From the earliest parts of that downhill road, his parents and priesthood leaders fervently counseled him to turn away from bad practices. He always dismissed the counsel.

“I never planned on going all the way,” he said once, “I thought a little involvement with the world would give me experience.”

When it was time for his missionary interviews, he made matters worse by lying to his bishop and stake president. I was amazed to learn later that he’d even transgressed morally after he had received his call and been to the temple. How disappointed the Lord must have been to see one of his servants take a call so lightly. How much more disappointed the Lord must have been to see him set aside his temple covenants.

In the Missionary Training Center, this young man felt great agony. He couldn’t sleep most nights. The Spirit of the Lord came strongly upon other missionaries, but he felt miserable. His leaders asked if there were transgressions that had not come to light. He kept on lying.

In the mission field, the intensity of the Spirit increased. The other missionaries began to have spiritual experiences, to teach the missionary discussions with power and authority, to baptize, and to experience solid growth as they served the Lord.

Finally, this young man could go no further in deceiving his companions, his parents, his local leaders, and his mission president. Several weeks into his mission, in total agony for his sins, he confessed them to his mission president.

What a sad experience! He felt greatly relieved that he’d finally confessed, but with all his heart wished he had done so four or five years earlier. With great sadness for all, the young man was sent home. One can only imagine the pain, humiliation, and regret. How his parents and family wept! How the heavens must have wept!

He told me that in the beginning it was hard to lie, but it became easier as he went along. The Lord told us that in the telestial kingdom, the lowest of the three kingdoms of glory, will be found the murderers, the adulterers, and the liars. Lying is that serious! We may temporarily deceive our fellowman, but we will never deceive the Lord. We will suffer agony and misery until the truth is finally known. However smart, educated, or talented you may be, you cannot fool the Lord.

As the years have gone by, this young man has faced serious trials as a result of his sins and lies of his youth. He was finally married and had children, but later separated from his wife. Because of additional transgressions he was excommunicated.

Now this man is at last back in the Church, reunited with his wife, and trying his best to raise up his family to the Lord. But it has been a long, difficult road. As a young man, he never would have believed how serious the consequences would be for having transgressed and then not corrected the situation when he was young. He has learned through bitter experience that those transgressions tend to follow one through the years and affect parents, spouses, and children.

I was not a member of the Church as a child. It wasn’t until I was an adult and a businessman that I was baptized.
My father was also a businessman. He was very worried when I joined the Church. He said, “You don’t drink alcohol anymore. That will be hard in meetings where everyone is drinking together.”
But I wasn’t worried. I decided that when someone offered me alcohol, I would say, “No, thank you.” Then I would order something else.
Years went by, and I did this many times. After a while, my coworkers noticed. If I was offered alcohol, they said, “Mathias doesn’t drink. Bring him something else.” More and more of them stopped ordering alcohol too. “I don’t want any either,” they said.
Once, some visitors came to a meeting. They were the only ones drinking alcohol.
They asked me, “Why isn’t anyone drinking alcohol? Are they all members of your church?”
“No,” I said.
I didn’t preach to my coworkers about the Word of Wisdom. I was just firm in my beliefs, and they noticed my example.

As leaders, what are our attitudes toward percentages as they relate to active versus inactive? You have probably heard the story of the father who had four daughters. As each of them left on a date one evening, he cautioned them to be home by midnight. The first returned at 11:45; the next, at 11:50; and a third came in at midnight, whereupon he locked the doors, turned out the lights, and went to bed. When his wife reminded him that Mary had not come in yet, he said with great satisfaction, “Seventy-five percent of them are home—isn’t that a pretty good percentage?” It is so easy to love those who are active and responsive and sometimes so difficult to do the same for those who are inactive and rebellious.

Should you become discouraged in your efforts, remember that sometimes the Lord’s timetable does not coincide with ours. When I was a bishop many years ago, one of the leaders of the young women, Jessie Cox, came to me and said, “Bishop, I am a failure!” When I asked why she felt this way, she said, “I haven’t been able to get any of my Mutual girls married in the temple, as a good teacher would have. I’ve tried my very best, but my best apparently wasn’t good enough.”

I tried to console Jessie by telling her that I, as her bishop, knew that she had done all she could. And as I followed those girls through the years, I found that each one was eventually sealed in the temple. If the lesson is engraved on the heart, it is not lost.

I had just started college when I decided to learn to snowboard. There wasn’t snow on the ground yet, and I had no idea how I would learn, but I had recently acquired the gear and had the desire. What I didn’t realize then was how learning to snowboard would become an important metaphor for later lessons.
When my friends found out about my recently acquired equipment, they promised to help me learn how to ride my board. We began planning a boarding trip as soon as the local resort opened. I was already envisioning the speed with which I would race down the slopes and the heights I would reach from launching off the jumps.
Finally, the slopes opened, and we loaded up our gear in the back of my Jeep and drove along the slushy roads to the resort. When we arrived, I was immediately impressed by how large everything was. Looking at a map of the runs and being aware of my lack of experience, I determined to learn quickly.
My friends didn’t want me to learn on the “bunny hill”—the green run. They reasoned that there wasn’t enough of a slope to get any speed, and without speed I wouldn’t learn to board. I went along with their plan and rode the ski lift to a blue run. I listened to the advice of my two buddies and then started down the hill, squatting in a tuck to get more speed.
Speed was one thing I understood. It was simple to go fast down that slope. Unfortunately that was all I could do. I soon caught an edge and face-planted in the snow. There was at least a foot of fresh snow everywhere on the hill, so there wasn’t much of a consequence to crashing. That was how I spent the day: racing down the hill as fast as I could go, trying to achieve that flying feeling I had imagined, crashing because I didn’t know how to stop, and then jumping back up and starting again. Pretty soon my friends left me and went to tackle the advanced runs—the black diamonds. I had more fun than I expected that day. I didn’t mind eating snow frequently if it meant I could zip down the mountain full-tilt.
The next week my family took a weeklong vacation at a different resort with very different snow conditions. The area hadn’t received fresh snow in a week, and the entire mountain was covered in a thick layer of icy man-made snow. There were even areas where the snow was so compacted it would have been possible to glide across on skates.
I continued my method of boarding, but it didn’t take long before an ice patch surprised me, causing me to lose control of the board and to land so hard on my tailbone that I couldn’t walk normally for two weeks. I limped and slid my way down the hill and went to our room. I thought I would be stuck inside for the rest of the vacation, lying on my side because it hurt too much to sit.
Eventually my stubborn nature got the better of me, and I went back out to the hill before it grew dark—this time with a different attitude. I rode up to the top, slid partway down the hill, knelt down, and watched every boarder who passed by, analyzing their every move and technique. The pointers my friends had originally given me became clear as I watched other boarders implement them. When I felt like I understood a particular technique, I would try it out myself, taking particular care not to crash. I spent hours watching and practicing. It was very slow work, and I definitely didn’t have the feeling of flying, but I followed this pattern that entire week.
After that week I had learned the necessary skills to ride a snowboard effectively. My friends couldn’t believe the difference when I rode with them again.
It has been several years since that first season. Now I am a very competent snowboarder. I traverse double black diamonds without batting an eye, hit jumps, and zoom down the mountain at incredible speeds, and I finally feel like I can fly. All of this is because I learned to use restraint and realized the need to learn from those who had come before me.
Sometimes in life it seems easier to do things on our own, heedless of the consequences. That doesn’t mean that the consequences don’t exist or that they won’t catch up to us. If we exercise restraint and take the time to learn from those with more experience in life, like our parents and Church leaders, then we can eventually be ready to venture out on our own and take on life’s challenges. We can learn to fly.

Grisell was very excited to join the Church and loved learning about the gospel, but as we continued teaching Grisell, many challenges came up, as they usually do when someone commits to baptism. Her family opposed her attending church, and she was becoming distressed. I decided to share the same scripture with her that I had shared with Hugo many months prior. Grisell’s downcast face changed to the expression of joy and excitement she had shown when we first met as I read her the promise that she would be able to do anything that was the Lord’s will.

Suddenly I realized that this scripture was not only true for Hugo and Grisell. Just weeks before I had doubted my own ability to do what God had commanded me. As I reflected back on my recent discouragement and my mission up to that point, I knew that the Lord’s promise was true for me as well.

We stopped at a pizza parlor on the way home from the priesthood session of general conference when I was 15 years old, and as a result I learned a lesson about tithing that I will never forget.
My father, my two brothers, and I were hungry. As we waited for our order, I saw one of my friends working as a busboy. I asked him how he got the job, and he told me they still needed extra help. A few minutes later he came back and told me that the manager would interview me immediately. Perhaps it was because I was wearing a dress shirt and a tie, but the employer seemed impressed. The interview went well. I expressed my wish not to work on Sundays, and he said there would be no problem—plenty of people would cover for me. I was hired to begin work as soon as I could.
During the next two years, I gradually worked my way up to the position of pizza cook. Then one evening as I began my shift, I noticed one of my scheduled days had been taken off the calendar. My boss told me that if I wanted to work the regular number of hours, Sunday was open. I worked one Sunday and felt rotten about it, so I declined to work on the Sabbath from then on. My relations with my employer started to deteriorate, and I began to look for another job.
It was interesting that although I was fairly adamant about keeping the Sabbath day holy, I was lax in obeying another commandment—the law of tithing. I didn’t pay tithing at all, unless my parents prompted me. Then I’d say, “Sure, sure,” and put something in the envelope the next week. I just couldn’t see the sense in giving away one-tenth of my hard-earned money.
I kept searching for a job but with no results. I prayed to my Father in Heaven sincerely, confident that he would help me find employment. One evening while praying, a thought came to me. Why should the Lord help me find another job if I wasn’t paying tithing on the income from my current job?
I studied a couple of scriptures:
“And prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it” (Mal. 3:10).
“I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise” (D&C 82:10).
I decided to obey the commandment. I went to the bank and secured a large sum of money from my savings account to catch up on the tithing I had missed. I took it over to the bishop’s house that very evening.
In my pursuit of better employment, I had applied for work in a muffler shop. This was in January, and they said they wouldn’t need any additional help until the following December. Two days after I paid my tithing, someone from the shop telephoned with an offer for me to start work the next day. By the time I left on my mission, I was making three times as much money as I had made cooking pizza, plus a handsome commission. I was able to finance half of the expense of my mission by myself. Furthermore, after I had been in the mission field about a year, my employer from the muffler shop called my parents and asked if he could help pay the rest of my mission expenses.
Some might say that all these things happened coincidentally. I would be inclined to say that I was blessed because I finally started living a gospel principle. Tithing opens a door to blessings from the Lord.

All those Scouting activities really paid off for 14-year-old Jared Stokes of the Peachtree City Ward, Jonesboro Georgia Stake. The obstacle courses and athletic competitions gave him the experience it took to win the “Radical Outdoor Challenge,” Entertainment and Sports Programming Network’s (ESPN) outdoor game show. Jared reigns as grand champion.
Several times Jared wore his BYU hat on national television, so everyone would know what school and religion he supported. He had to participate in activities like scaling a rock wall, walking across a tight wire over swampy cold water with swamp water being sprayed on him, BMX bike racing, swimming, canoeing, and marksmanship, to name just a few of the events.
But Jared hasn’t let all this attention go to his head. He’s still an active seminary student, teacher, and Eagle Scout candidate. He hopes his athletic feats will set a positive example of what good, clean living can do for you.

When I was baptized in 2001, I began paying tithing every month. Then just eight months later, my husband passed away. I became a widow with two small children at home and one son on a mission. Although my financial problems were serious, I never stopped paying tithing. I have been blessed with more and more work, which has enabled me to earn more money. But even more important, because I pay my tithing I always feel at peace with the Lord.
Today my small house seems big and comfortable. I feel calm with my two little children. I will never stop paying tithing because I know the Lord has blessed me not only with physical and spiritual health but also with wisdom and peace.
Josefa Margarida dos Santos Fontes, Rio Grande da Serra Ward, Ribeirão Pires Brazil Stake

In December 2004, I was serving as a full-time missionary in Lins, São Paulo, Brazil. The local ward and branch decided to participate in Brazil’s annual “Natal sem Fome” (Christmas without Hunger) program. Teaming up with several other entities—including soldiers from the Brazilian army, mail carriers, and members of other faiths—we passed through several neighborhoods collecting food that would later be given to the needy of the city. We also used this as a great opportunity to give out pass-along cards, or “friendship cards” as we called them. About 2,000 cards were given out.
Many of the members commented on the great feelings they had felt as they served and shared the spirit of Christmas under the hot Brazilian sun. It was an impressive sight to see the soldiers handing out pass-along cards from a church they didn’t even belong to.
One week later we received 127 requests for the Joy to the World Christmas DVD featuring the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. The next week we received 22 more. My companion and I started teaching these people and were able to enter into many homes as a result of this project.
I will never forget the joy and love of that special project, when we helped spread the gospel and bring relief to many families’ hunger. Both spiritual and physical hunger were lessened.
I know that through small and simple things (such as a pass-along card) many great and wonderful things (such as the salvation of the souls of men) come to pass. This experience was evidence that many opportunities surround us during Christmas and other seasons to bring forth this marvelous work and a wonder.

—During nine months of pre-encampment training, the troop from the Greensboro North Carolina Stake always encouraged sportsmanship during patrol competition. One patrol consistently came in last but was awarded a fourth-place trophy just the same. “We told the other patrols they had just beat the best patrol in the camp,” explained Scott Oakley, 16, of Caswell Ward. “And when we got to the encampment, that patrol placed first in two events over the entire encampment!”

Nodoka T.

“I was nervous when the counselor asked me to go to stake Young Women camp for the first time,” says Nodoka T. of Okinawa, Japan. “I decided to pray. After my prayer I felt comfortable, so I decided to go.
“From the very first day, I was able to make new friends. The young women were so nice and kind to me; my fear soon disappeared. And I learned to purify water, tie knots, make bandages, perform rescue breathing, and find edible plants!”

In the spirit of the wonderful comments you’ve made and the insights you’ve given me—new insights about the power of the word and the healing, the help, and the light that comes from it—I am reminded of a story President Packer told the Quorum of the Twelve some years ago. He talked about a severe winter in Utah when the snow was excessive and had driven the deer herds down very low into some of the valleys. Some of them were trapped by fences and circumstances as they were taken out of their natural habitat, and well-meaning, perfectly responsive, capable agencies tried to respond by feeding those deer to get them through the crisis of the winter. They brought in hay and dumped it everywhere; it was about as good as they could do under the circumstances. Later an immense number of those deer were found dead. The people who handled those animals afterward said that their stomachs were full of hay, but they had starved to death. They had been fed, but they had not been nourished.

I confess that when I left on my mission, my testimony was limited to knowledge about the plan of salvation and the Book of Mormon. I recognized that my testimony lacked the depth I wanted it to have, and as a result, I felt inadequate as a missionary.
Like most French members of the Church at the time, I had never attended a broadcast of general conference. We had always attended rebroadcasts, where we listened to conference in French through an interpreter. Now, as a missionary serving in Wales and speaking English, I was going to hear the voice of the prophet, President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994), firsthand.
When the session started, the local congregation sang with the members present in the Tabernacle in Salt Lake City. I also sang and was quickly taken aback by an overwhelming feeling of joy and belonging. These feelings testified that I was a member of Jesus Christ’s Church.
While I was sitting there, an idea came to mind: “What if I asked the Lord to confirm to me that President Benson is His prophet?”
I knew that I could “ask God” (Moroni 10:4), but I was afraid that somehow I would offend Him with my questions. After a minute of reflection, I decided to try anyway. I bowed my head and asked the Lord to testify to me that the man who was going to speak was His prophet, seer, and revelator. Before long an intense feeling of peace and happiness entered my heart. I raised my head, opened my eyes, and listened to President Benson testify of the Book of Mormon.
From that moment on, I knew for myself that the Lord leads the Church through a chosen prophet. As a result of that testimony, I left conference with new goals, and I knew that it was up to me to reach them. I changed the focus of my mission and looked forward to attending future general conferences. I also eagerly awaited the arrival of the Church magazines so that I could read the sacred words of the Lord’s servants.
Thierry Hotz, France