Gospel Story Finder

Yves also found a way to help several of his friends who wanted to share with each other what they were learning in the scriptures. They were attending church and seminary or institute, speaking when assigned and participating in lessons. But they wanted to talk with each other, youth to youth. So once a week they started reading the Book of Mormon together for about half an hour, and they started inviting others, especially some youth who were less active, to join them. Now they’ve been reading together for months, sometimes at one person’s house, sometimes at another’s.
“It started with my friends Larry Roseval, who’s in the Wanica Branch, and Saffira Zeegelaar from my branch. But now there are eight of us,” Yves says. “We read a chapter, talk about it, bear our testimony about it, and share something we learned during the week.”
These scripture readers have also encouraged each other in additional ways. For example, they challenged themselves to make fast Sundays more meaningful by fasting with a purpose. “Last fast Sunday we thought about specific people who are less active and fasted and prayed that they might return to full activity in the Church,” Yves explains.

The Stevenson family lived in Japan for several years. In 2004 Elder Stevenson was called as president of the Japan Nagoya Mission. Following his call to the Seventy in 2008, he served as a counselor and president in the Asia North Area. He was serving as Area President in 2011 when a major earthquake struck off the coast of northern Japan, triggering a massive tsunami that killed thousands. That experience proved to be a defining moment in his life.
Elder Stevenson helped shape the response of the Church, which provided food, supplies, support, and longer-term assistance.
“That was a manifestation of the Church of Jesus Christ filling one of its divinely appointed responsibilities of caring for the poor and needy,” he recalls. He said it was a sacred privilege to “minister, and bless, and organize assistance.”

It all started with a stutter. My mom would tell you it’s cute, but I would beg to differ. The first day of first grade, the teacher told us to stand up one by one and introduce ourselves. When it was my turn, I stood and immediately got nervous in front of the sea of people.
“H-h-h-hi, m-m-m-m-m-my name’s Smith.”
I was embarrassed that I had messed up in front of my new class. I sat down, and a girl looked me in my eyes (it felt like she looked into my soul) and said, “Why can’t you talk right?”
That day I decided I was different and that, because I was different, I was less important than everyone else.
Over time, my self-esteem got worse. I didn’t believe I could have friends who truly cared about me. I didn’t believe I was enough to make my parents proud. And ultimately, I didn’t believe there was a God who had sent His Son to die for me.
At the age of nine I was exposed to pornography online. I hadn’t gone looking for what I saw. But because I believed I wasn’t important, I thought that if I told my parents, they would be ashamed of me. This slowly led me down a path of addiction.
When I was 10 years old, I got onto social media, which gave me more ways to find pornography. At the same time, I started to compare my life with the “perfect” lives I saw on social media. I saw posts of people on vacation or hanging out with friends when I wasn’t invited. I saw people with these “perfect” bodies, and I didn’t think mine was good enough. With this cycle of self-loathing and addiction, my life spiraled quickly. At 14 years old, I planned to take my own life.
On a day I felt like my life was falling apart, my parents found out about my trials and guided me toward the Savior and His Atonement. It was a turning point in my life. I met with my bishop, and he and my dad gave me a blessing. It was the first time in six years I had felt the Spirit. It felt tangible.
Focus on Joy, by Michael Malm
It’s taken time and effort, but because of my Savior, Jesus Christ, I’ve been able to repent and grow stronger as a person. I’ve seen beautiful miracles in my life that are a direct result of the saving power of Christ’s Atonement.
I now spend my time as a public speaker, traveling the country and speaking to youth groups, schools, and communities about the harmful effects of social media and pornography. I teach about the importance of mental health and the need for suicide prevention. I’ve built a platform on social media that I can use for good. I just graduated high school. I’ve built two businesses and strong relationships with those I love. Most importantly, I’ve found God again. I have a sure testimony of God the Father, His Son, Jesus Christ, and Their power and influence.
None of this has happened because I have extra special talents or unusual abilities. Through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, I’ve been able to repent, overcome challenges, and find peace and healing. If you think you’re too far gone, my answer to you is that you’re wrong. I was willing to surrender to the redeeming power of Jesus Christ. You can too.

Two years into my actuarial and financial mathematics degree, I had a strong prompting to go on a mission. I chose to serve, even though I would potentially forfeit certain college credits that had to be taken consecutively.
A short while later, as I read my mission call to the Utah Salt Lake City Central Mission, the moment felt surreal. I didn’t know anybody who had served in Salt Lake City. I thought maybe I had opened the wrong mission call. When I arrived in Salt Lake City, I felt that everything I knew had been taken away. I found myself on a bicycle in the snow without any idea of how to be a missionary. With its different culture and climate, Salt Lake City felt as far away from South Africa as I could have traveled.
In my first area, my companion and I visited a member named Chris Ruppel for dinner. He asked if either of us knew music. My companion mentioned that I played piano and sang, so I sang a song for the family. Then something special happened. Brother Ruppel looked at me and said, “Elder Vizzini, if you keep singing like that, you will be a successful missionary.” I thought that was sweet of him but didn’t think much of it.
A few months later, with Brother Ruppel, I helped organize a musical missionary fireside. In every area I served thereafter, we used this same fireside structure. Many people participated with us, from stake members to well-known local musicians and members of other faiths. We taught about the Savior through music to people who otherwise would not have wanted to sit through a lesson. I learned that music could touch both the poor and the wealthy, the educated and the uneducated.
My mission taught me that I can do hard things. As I served in an area so far away and so different from my home, I learned that everybody is a child of God. I have seen miracles in people’s lives on the other side of the world in Utah, and I have seen them here in South Africa. I know that if we just have faith, miracles can happen in each of our lives (see Mormon 9:15–21).

A few years ago, I was in line to make a purchase at my local grocery store. Ahead of me stood a young woman, about 15 years old. She appeared confident and happy. I noticed her T-shirt and couldn’t resist talking to her. I began, “You’re from out of state, aren’t you?”
She was surprised by my question and replied, “Yes, I am. I’m from Colorado. How did you know?”
I explained, “Because of your T-shirt.” I made my accurate supposition after reading the words on her shirt, “I’m a Mormon. Are you?”
I continued, “I must tell you that I’m impressed by your confidence to stand out and wear such a bold declaration. I see a difference in you, and I wish every young woman and every member of the Church could have your same conviction and confidence.” Our purchases completed, we said good-bye and parted.
Yet for days and weeks after this random everyday moment, I found myself seriously reflecting upon this encounter. I wondered how this young girl from Colorado came to possess such confidence in her identity as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I couldn’t help but wonder what meaningful phrase I would figuratively choose to have printed on my T-shirt reflecting my belief and testimony. In my mind, I considered many possible sayings. Eventually, I came upon an ideal statement I would proudly wear: “I’m a Mormon. I know it. I live it. I love it.”
Today I’d like to focus my remarks around this bold, hopeful statement.

For some, there will come the temptation to dishonor a personal standard of honesty. In a business law class at the university I attended, I remember that one particular classmate never prepared for the class discussions. I thought to myself, How is he going to pass the final examination?

I discovered the answer when he came to the classroom for the final examination, on a winter’s day, wearing on his bare feet only a pair of sandals. I was surprised and watched him as the class began. All of his books had been placed upon the floor. He slipped the sandals from his feet; and then, with toes that he had trained and had prepared with glycerine, he skillfully turned the pages of one of the books which he had placed on the floor, thereby viewing the answers to the examination questions.

He received one of the highest grades in that course on business law. But the day of reckoning came. Later, as he prepared to take his comprehensive examination, for the first time the dean of his particular discipline said, “This year I shall depart from tradition and shall conduct an oral, rather than a written, test.” Our favorite, trained-toe expert found that he had his foot in his mouth on that occasion and failed the examination.

Jason was sad. It had snowed, and all the children were outside playing in the snow. All except Jason.
“You can’t go outside today because you have the flu,” Mom said. “I’ll open the drapes in the living room window, and you can watch the other kids.”
“But that’s not the same as being outside,” Jason whined. “I’ve been waiting for months for it to snow so I could make a huge snowman. If I bundle up good, may I please go out for just a little while?”
Mom hugged Jason. “No, honey. I’m sorry.”
Jason ran into his room. “I’ll never get to make a snowman,” he sobbed.
His big sister, Heather, came in and sat on the bed. “Jason, Mom wants you to take a nap now, but I promise that when you wake up, you’ll be happy.”
Jason was tired and slept for more than an hour. When he woke up, Heather came in smiling. “Ready to have some fun?” she asked. “I have a game called ‘Surprise Hunt.’”
Jason felt grumpy. “I don’t want to play a game. I want a snowman.”
“This game will make you happy,” Heather said. “You’ll have six clues that will lead you to a surprise. Come on, Jason, give it a try.”
Jason felt even more curious than grumpy. “OK,” he said. Heather handed him a piece of paper with the first clue.
CLUE #1I’m in a room with a fireplace, and I turn dark into light.
“The fireplace is in the living room, so the next clue must be there,” Jason said. He went into the living room and looked around. “‘Turn dark into light,’” he said. “The lamps!” He checked all the lamps, and under Dad’s reading lamp, he found the second clue.
CLUE #2People live on my planet and can spin me to take a pretend trip.
“We live on the Earth,” Jason said. “But what can I spin to take a pretend trip?” He thought a moment. “My world globe!” he shrieked. He ran to his room and found the next clue taped to his globe.
CLUE #3I taste good and am good for your teeth.
Jason thought deeply. “Hmmmm. What could it be?” He smiled. “I bet it’s the toothpaste.” He went into the bathroom and looked at the toothpaste, but no clue was there.
“What else could it be, Heather?” Jason asked.
“Think, Jason. You’re doing fine so far.”
“Oh, I get it!” Jason exclaimed. “It’s the food!” He went to the kitchen and opened the pantry door but found no clue. Then he looked in the refrigerator. On the top shelf, taped to a bottle of milk, was the clue.
CLUE #4I have 12 months, 52 weeks, and 365 days.
“Mom’s calendar,” Jason laughed. He went into the hall and looked behind Mom’s calendar. There he found the next clue.
CLUE #5When you’re thirsty, you want me.
Jason smiled. “Back to the kitchen.”
“Keep up the good work,” Mom said. “You’re doing great.”
Jason looked in all the cups and glasses in the cupboard and in the water and juice bottles in the refrigerator. No clues. Then he spotted a small cup on the counter. Inside was the clue.
CLUE #6—YOUR LAST CLUESometimes I’m open;Sometimes I’m shut.My wood isThe same color as a nut.I’m always readyTo do as you wish.You and dad go through meWhen you go to fish.
“This is a tough one,” Jason said.
“Keep trying, Jason,” Dad encouraged.
“Let’s see. My closet door does as I wish. It’s sometimes open and sometimes shut, and it’s tan like a nut. But Dad and I don’t go through it. It can’t be a window or a cabinet door. What is it?” Jason frowned. He was about to give up when he turned and saw the back door. “That’s it!” he yelled.
Jason ran to the door, opened it, and looked out. In the backyard was his surprise—a giant snowman holding a sign:
Get better soon, Jason. We love you.From Mom, Dad, and Heather

It’s Tuesday night in Nashua. Sixty teachers and their spouses begin arriving at the appreciation night. They’re talking with their students, and the youth are relaxing.
I stop 14-year-old Cyndie Munk and ask her how it’s going. Three or four of her teachers are already here. “The teachers are just so impressed that we want to honor them,” she says, grinning. She sees her vice principal walk in and waves in his direction. “He never gets to do anything,” she tells me. “I gave him his invitation and told him what it was for and he absolutely beamed. Every time I saw him around school he just started smiling, asking if he was still supposed to come.”
The teachers are filing out and Cyndie sums up the Nashua evening for me. “My teachers said they’ve never had anyone do anything like this for them,” she says. “But I think they work hard. They give up a lot of their own time for us. I think they deserved this.”

When my wife, Blanca, and I were married, the laws of Guatemala required that we be married civilly first. I didn’t like that ceremony—it said that we were married only until death. The next day we left for Arizona, though we had to sell some of our possessions to afford the trip. Being sealed to my wife in the temple for eternity was one of the most joyful experiences of my life.
But we soon discovered that we didn’t have enough money to return to Guatemala. When we went to church, a man shook my hand and left a U.S. $20 bill in it. Another man did the same. I had said nothing of our problems. But we had told Heavenly Father.
I was a stake president when the temple in Guatemala was announced. It was my privilege to help raise funds for the temple and prepare the people to be worthy to enter it. We were asked to raise U.S. $10,000. Children, young people, and adults all participated. The people of the stake were so enthusiastic that we raised about $27,000—almost three times as much as our goal.
When our youngest child, Daniel, was 11 years old, he told us he wanted a special gift when he turned 12. He wanted to go to the temple and be baptized for some of his ancestors. The whole family got involved in family history. We grew closer to our living relatives and found several ancestors whose temple work had not been done. On my son’s 12th birthday, he was baptized for these people. I performed the ordinances. Daniel gained a greater testimony of temple work.
As you can see, many of the best moments of my life have been spent in the house of the Lord. It can be the same for each of you.
Always remember that our Lord Jesus Christ loves children. When we read about His visit to the Americas after His Resurrection, we learn that He called the children to Him and blessed each of them. There are not many times in the scriptures when the writer couldn’t record the things that were said, but this was one of them. The words and the blessings were so sacred they could not be written. (See 3 Ne. 17:12–23.) Jesus loves you just as He loved those children.
I believe that my testimony was just as firm when I was 12 years old as it is today. You do not have to be a grown-up to have a testimony of Jesus Christ or to make a difference. Perhaps sometimes you don’t realize how much good you are doing for your parents, for your relatives, and for the world.

One autumn I was assigned to a stake conference in a rural area of the Western United States. I arrived on Saturday evening and remained with the stake president and his family overnight. In the morning we started our journey of five or six miles to the meetinghouse, and on our way we passed several farms. It was apparent that the Sabbath day was being observed by the people.
We saw beautiful fields of ripened wheat with machinery standing in the fields just as it had been left the evening before. We saw haystacks partly built, with more hay resting in the fields waiting to be brought in. Some of the grain was harvested and some was yet in the field. The very land seemed to be at rest.
We entered the village, and there too we found a scene of peace and serenity. There was no sound of hammer, machinery, or work of any kind. Instead, we saw people gathering to the chapel from all directions in the valley.
I remarked to the stake president about this unusual sight and inquired whether the home teachers had canvassed the stake and warned the people that a visitor was coming from Salt Lake. “No,” he said, “we’re very pleased with the way our people observe the Sabbath day to keep it holy. Nearly every family in the stake is represented at our meetings every Sunday.” The records upheld his word.
It was a beautiful day—quiet, a soft breeze blowing, warm and pleasant. The hills in the distance were turning to their autumn colors. There were beautiful farms and fields, lovely homes, and a sweet spirit of contentment. The meetings and councils of that day were remarkably peaceful, productive, and satisfying.

When I was young, I was overly dependent on my older sister. For example, I was a fussy eater, and when we went to visit our grandparents, I was constantly faced with being offered food I didn’t like. When the plate was passed to me, I would turn to my sister and ask, “Collene, do I like this?”
If it was familiar and she knew that I didn’t like it, she would say, “No, you don’t like that.”
If it was something we hadn’t eaten before, she would say, “Just a minute,” and taste it, and then tell me if I liked it or not. If she said that I didn’t like it, no amount of coaxing could get me to eat it.
Just as I needed to rely on my own taste buds and stop denying myself good food just because my sister told me that I didn’t like it, we must all feast on the fruit of our own testimony and not the testimony of another person. We also need to increase our ability to receive personal revelation.
We do this when we place our faith in our Lord and Savior, repent of our sins, read and really think about the scriptures, pray, look for ways to help others, and share the gospel with others. During general conferences and at many other times, we will be taught by the Lord’s prophets, seers, and revelators. When we follow the counsel of the Brethren, we prepare ourselves to go to the temple, where we receive more power to overcome the sins of the world and to “stand in holy places” (D&C 45:32).

My siblings and I, as kids, grew up not knowing and feeling what it means to enjoy the real spirit of Christmas centred on the life and mission of the Saviour, Jesus Christ. We celebrated Christmas as just one special day. In many ways my Christmas experience was mixed with childish wishful thinking. To me, Christmas day meant one thing: a Christmas gift. No gift, no Christmas.
Despite our childhood hearts focusing only on our Christmas gift, we knew this period between when school let out and Christmas day wasn’t going to be an easy ride. It would be a tough time which I will call “time to behave”. Our loving parents didn’t accept any excuse and made sure everyone had something to do. Each evening after dinner, the work plan for the next day was briefly discussed and individual or group assignments appropriate to our age were given. It was during this time to behave that we were taught the value of work, family unity, bearing one another’s burdens, teamwork and other valuable life skills. Just before Christmas, our parents would judge how well we conducted ourselves on all these household chores and farming activities, and they would decide whether we were to receive or miss out the Christmas gift. I am profoundly humbled and thankful for such a self-disciplining time to behave childhood experience which molded my life with everlasting character.
Many years have gone by. We have grown from childish to adult pursuits, being caught up in the business of busy life. I vividly remember some of these wonderful, happy moments when I got my Christmas gift. On the other hand, it is hard to forget a few unpleasant Christmas days when I missed out on my Christmas gift after failing to live up to my loving parents’ expectations during the time to behave period. It was through these childhood experiences that I came to love and treasure the Saviour’s birth and the Christmas season.

I had a similar experience in Idaho some years later. I was attending a stake conference. After the Sunday morning session one of the bishops brought his aged mother up to see me. I had been referring to the Book of Mormon during my sermon and was still holding it in my hand.
She took the book from me, opened it, read a paragraph at random, and then returned the book. I wondered why. Then she said that at the previous stake conference the visitor had been Elder Thomas E. McKay, one of the Assistants to the Council of the Twelve.
She asked me if I knew Elder McKay, and of course, I responded that I did. Then she said, “Will you please tell him that I read a paragraph in your book? When he was here at our last conference, my son brought him to my home and had him administer to me. I was blind. Please tell him that I read from your book.”

In February while cleaning out my garage, I decided to donate a trunk load of Christmas decorations, since all my children are now grown. About two weeks after dropping them off at a thrift store, I mentioned the donations to my daughter, Kim. She exclaimed, “Mom, you still have my green Christmas stocking, I hope?” Sadly, I had to tell her I had just given it away!
I’d made the stockings for our six young children out of felt. Their names were penned in silver glitter across the top. Kim had insisted she wanted a green Christmas stocking even though everyone else had red. I didn’t realize after all these years that it still meant so much to her. I felt bad that I had given her stocking away, so I decided to call the thrift store to see if I could get it back somehow.
Tara, the manager, asked if it was put in a silver cart or a blue cart. I didn’t know because a worker took the boxes and bags out of my trunk, and I wasn’t paying attention to what carts they were put in. She told me there were about a hundred silver carts and 68 blue carts filled to the top and not stored in any particular order! Tara said that in all the years she has worked there, she has never known anyone to find something after they donated it by mistake. But she would be happy to go with me to look in the sorting room.
I drove to the store with a constant prayer in my heart that Heavenly Father would help me to find the green Christmas stocking, acknowledging that it would mean so much to my daughter. We have been commanded, after all, to “cry unto him in your houses, yea, over all your household. … Let your hearts be full, drawn out in prayer unto him continually for your welfare, and also for the welfare of those who are around you” (Alma 34:21, 27).
As Elder Juan A. Uceda of the Seventy taught: “At the very moment we say, ‘Father in Heaven,’ He hears our prayers and is sensitive to us and our needs. And so His eyes and His ears are now connected to you. … He will see you with eyes of love and mercy—love and mercy that we cannot fully understand. But love and mercy are with Him the very moment you say, ‘Father in Heaven.’”1
I started looking through the Christmas items on the shelves in the main part of the store, but the stocking wasn’t there. I met Tara, and she walked with me into the sorting room.
Where to begin! As we walked past row after row of silver carts towering over us, I tried to quickly scan the contents of each one. Tara grabbed a random cart and rolled it forward so I could see the side of the cart next to it. I looked up and immediately recognized a cardboard box with my handwriting on the side (“electric lights and adapter”). The security guard took it down for me, but inside was just the Dutch oven I’d donated.
I walked around the cart to the other side. On top of another box, I saw the green felt Christmas stocking sticking out of a white plastic bag. To everyone’s amazement, we had found what I was looking for!
Tara said, “You have to take a picture from upstairs so Kim can see the magnitude of what just happened!”
Of all the places we could have looked, we went right to where we needed to be. “Luck,” some might say. No. “Coincidence?” No. Evidence that we have a kind and loving Heavenly Father who answers even the most trivial but heartfelt prayers according to His wisdom and will? Definitely! Although not all prayers are answered so immediately or in the way we hoped, this was a miracle for us that day!
Now, each year as we celebrate the birth of our Savior, hanging on Kim’s fireplace will be a gentle reminder of the miracle of the green Christmas stocking—evidence of Heavenly Father’s love for His children.

“Gracie,” Mom whispered. “Wake up. It’s time for family prayer.”
Grace groaned and pulled the covers over her head. She was so warm and cozy in her bed. She heard her sister Charlotte get up and go into the living room. Grace stayed in bed, hoping her family would forget about her and just say the prayer. Dad had to leave for work early every morning, so everyone got up then to say good-bye and have a prayer.
“Grace, time to get up,” Mom called. Grace sighed and dragged herself out of bed. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she mumbled to herself, “What’s the point? We pray for the same things every day.”
“Hello, sleepyhead,” Dad said with a smile. Grace scowled at him. She knelt on the floor next to Charlotte and bowed her head.
“Help us to be like Jesus and to love one another. Please help us have a good day and bless us with health and safety. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen,” Charlotte said. “Amen,” chorused the family.
“Good-bye, everyone,” Dad said, “I love you.” Dad spied Grace, who was still scowling, and asked, “Where’s my good-bye smile?” Grace couldn’t help but smile as Dad reached out to tickle her, but she still felt grumpy.
Grace felt tired all morning at school. She was sure it was because she had to get up so early for family prayer. “If only I could sleep half an hour longer, I’m sure I wouldn’t feel so sleepy,” she thought.
Later that afternoon at home, Grace was eating a snack while Charlotte watched cartoons. Suddenly they heard pounding on the front door. Grace stood up and walked toward the door, but before she could open it, a man burst through it, yelling, “Fire! Fire! Hurry and get out! Your house is on fire!” Hearing the noise, Mom came rushing from the kitchen, a frightened look on her face. She grabbed the girls and rushed them out the front door. The man pointed to the flames coming from their roof. Smoke billowed into the sky as the flames climbed higher and higher. Mom led the girls to the neighbors’ porch across the street. “Stay here while I go call 911,” she said before running into the neighbors’ house. After Mom disappeared, Charlotte began to cry. “I want my mommy.” Grace hugged her, saying, “It’s OK, Mommy just went inside to call the fire department.”
By the time Mom came back, they could already hear sirens blaring. A big red fire truck roared up the street, screeching to a halt in front of their house. The firefighters leaped from the fire engine and began spraying Grace’s house with a big hose. Once the blaze died down, they went inside to check the house for any lingering flames. Mom hugged the girls as they watched the firefighters work.
Dad’s car pulled into the neighbors’ driveway. He jumped out.
“What happened?” Dad cried.
Shaking her head, Mom said, “I was starting dinner in the kitchen when a man came in and shouted that our house was on fire. He was working on the electrical lines and saw the smoke. I had no idea what was going on. …” She paused. “He saved our lives.”
Grace said in a trembling voice, “It was lucky that he was working up on the power poles and saw the smoke, or we might have been inside when the fire got worse.” Grace didn’t want to think of what might have happened.
Dad hugged everyone and said with tears in his eyes, “Let’s kneel right now and thank Heavenly Father for His protection.”
“What about the house, Dad?” Grace cried.
Dad said quietly, “I don’t care about the house. I’m just grateful you are all safe.”
Grace had never felt so much love and happiness as she knelt with her family. Then she remembered their family prayer that morning for health and safety. Shame washed over her as she recalled how she had acted.
“I’m sorry, Heavenly Father,” she prayed silently. The warm feeling returned to her heart. She knew that Heavenly Father had protected her and her family, and she was grateful that He had heard and answered her family’s prayer.

Words fail to express the deep feelings of gratitude for the Lord and the missionaries He sent to our home. The Lord blessed me with the knowledge of the restored gospel, and I felt an urgency to share this knowledge with others. I wanted to be a missionary.
Within months, my sister Dina and I were called as local missionaries in San Salvador. This calling gave us the opportunity to go door to door to share the glad news of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and bring many people to the waters of baptism. In due time, we both served full-time missions in the Central America Mission.
My mission had a great impact on my life. I learned to rely more on the Lord, to seek the guidance of the Spirit, and to feel an overwhelming love for God’s children. My knowledge of the scriptures and my understanding of the doctrines increased. So did my desire to be obedient and to keep the commandments with exactness. My testimony of the Savior and His infinite Atonement was strengthened. My missionary experiences became part of who and what I am. Missionary work became my passion. It has impacted my life and that of my family more than anything else.

A registry wedding was arranged. I had only once briefly met my wife before the registry wedding. A date was set for the Sikh wedding a year later. There was no contact with my wife until a few months after the registry wedding; we met secretly and I explained to her I was Christian and gave her a Book of Mormon. However, this did not go down well as she told her parents and then both families engaged in persuading me to leave the Church. I made promises to do this. It tore me apart and I cried bitterly, as though I had denied Jesus Christ.
The Sikh marriage took place, and I kept my promise to not to go to Church for six months. Every Sunday I would get the yearning to go to Church. I went secretly to a member’s home to take the sacrament and always paid my tithing, read the scriptures, and prayed daily. I desperately needed a solution to this problem.
One day, my best friend from the Church provided it. I was to leave my parent’s house and establish a home elsewhere. I managed to get employment in Burntwood (Staffordshire) and bought a home there. After some time, my wife, Rajinder, let me go to a one-hour meeting one Sunday and I was called as the Sunday School president. But Rajinder refused to let the children go with me and at one time ripped up the Book of Mormon in front of me. She had been brought up as a strict Sikh and did not want to dishonour her family.
In 1982, we moved to Hemel Hempstead (Hertfordshire). The meetings were now consolidated, and I stayed for the whole three hours. I was called as the elders quorum president. An elderly missionary couple were assigned to visit my home, and for the first time Rajinder said a prayer and felt the Spirit. I subsequently baptised her. We were later sealed in the London England Temple with our children.
In 1986, I was called to be the branch president. I served in that capacity for three and half years and was released when our branch was merged into the Watford Ward.
My testimony has grown from strength to strength. I love the Lord and His restored gospel. I am in His hands and will always give thanks to Him for saving me and sending those missionaries. The evidence that this is the true church, is too great; I cannot deny it. Regardless of what happens to me or my family I will bless the Lord my God. I believe in His goodness, and that He will uphold me if I do as He asks. I give daily thanks for all the blessings He has given me and the tender mercies He has shown me.
I have recently published a book called LDS Christians and Sikhs. This book was the result of an inspiration I received to invite Sikhs to come to Christ. I have included many testimonies from Sikhs who have converted to the Church. I hope that it will do some good in persuading and inviting Sikhs to examine their religion and to offer them further blessings through the gospel.

I spoke recently to a young father who has lost his job in the recent economic crisis. He knows that hundreds of thousands of people with exactly his skills are looking desperately for work to feed their families. His quiet confidence led me to ask him what he had done to become so confident that he would find a way to support his family. He said he had examined his life to be sure that he had done all he could to be worthy of the Lord’s help. It was clear that his need and his faith in Jesus Christ were leading him to be obedient to God’s commandments when it is hard to do. He said that he saw that opportunity as he and his wife were reading in Alma where the Lord had prepared a people to find the gospel through adversity.
You remember the moment when Alma turned to the man who led the people in distress. The man told him that they had been persecuted and rejected for their poverty. And the record goes:
“And now when Alma heard this, he turned him about, his face immediately towards him, and he beheld with great joy; for he beheld that their afflictions had truly humbled them, and that they were in a preparation to hear the word.
“Therefore he did say no more to the other multitude; but he stretched forth his hand, and cried unto those whom he beheld, who were truly penitent, and said unto them:
“I behold that ye are lowly in heart; and if so, blessed are ye.”4
The scripture goes on to praise those of us who prepared for adversity in the more prosperous times. Many of you had the faith to try to qualify for the help you now need, before the crisis came.
Alma continued, “Yea, he that truly humbleth himself, and repenteth of his sins, and endureth to the end, the same shall be blessed—yea, much more blessed than they who are compelled to be humble because of their exceeding poverty.”5
That young man with whom I spoke recently was one who had done more than put away food and a little savings for the misfortune which living prophets had warned would come. He had begun to prepare his heart to be worthy of the Lord’s help which he knew he would in the near future need. When I asked his wife on the day he lost his job if she was worried, she said with cheerfulness in her voice, “No, we’ve just come from the bishop’s office. We are full-tithe payers.” Now, it is still too early to tell, but I felt assured as they seemed to be assured: “Things will work out.” Tragedy did not erode their faith; it tested it and strengthened it. And the feeling of peace the Lord has promised has already been delivered in the midst of the storm. Other miracles are sure to follow.

In the rain forest of southeastern Nigeria, young women and Relief Society sisters dressed in brightly colored clothing and head ties gather outside the simple Church meetinghouse to learn how to make patterns for blouses and dresses. Using empty cement bags as drafting paper, the Relief Society sisters gather around the table, listening attentively to the young women who are teaching this new skill. After drafting their patterns, then cutting the material, they take turns using a treadle sewing machine to complete their outfits.

Lucas was bored. He wandered around the house to find someone to play with him. His brother, Ben, was playing on the computer. His sister, Sophie, was texting her friend. Mom was looking through the mail, and Dad was reading.
“It’s boring around here,” Lucas said.
Dad looked up from his book. “What do you mean?”
“We don’t do anything together,” Lucas said. “We’re all doing our own thing.”
Dad closed his book. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ll gather the family together, and we’ll do something fun.”
Lucas grinned. “Great!”
A few minutes later Lucas’s family sat together, wondering what to do. Sophie wanted to text her friend. Ben wanted to keep playing his computer game.
“My friend Paul likes to go on walks with his family,” Lucas said. “And Alexander’s family likes to play sports.”
But Sophie didn’t want to go outside in the hot weather, and Ben couldn’t play sports because he had hurt his ankle.
“Those are fun things for your friends to do, Lucas,” Mom said, “but what does our family like to do?”
Ben said he liked to play board games. Sophie said she liked to read. Lucas said he liked racing cars.
“Let’s pick one of those things to do right now,” Dad said. “Why don’t we play a board game first?”
Soon they had all gathered around a game and started to play. After a while Sophie put away her phone. Ben stopped looking toward the computer. By the end of the game, everyone was smiling, but Lucas’s smile was the biggest.