Gospel Story Finder

I was driven by the burning desire to serve a full-time mission. My wish was to serve in an English-speaking mission to enable me to improve my English and have a better position in my country.
When I learned that I had to serve in my country and in my stake, I was very dejected. Despite this I decided to accept the Lord’s will and to go on a mission.
After serving for a period of time in Côte d’Ivoire, I was transferred from my country to Senegal where I was able to confer the priesthood upon the first native members of the Church in that country. I then had the opportunity to teach English speakers residing in the country, which forced me to learn English to be up to the task. During my mission, I had many experiences that built my faith.
When my mission ended, I was apprehensive about my return home. I did not know where I would live. My parents had divorced when I was young, and I had lived alone and done several odd jobs to provide for myself. Fortunately, my last mission companion and his parents offered me a place to live. This helped me a lot because his family was very strong in the gospel. They provided me with a roof over my head and this helped me avoid many of the problems experienced by some returned missionaries.
I have found a stable job because of the English language I learned on my mission. I was first recruited as a motorcycle delivery agent. At the end of the first day of work, some of my colleagues refused to pick up some of the goods by hand, arguing that it was not part of their responsibilities. But based on the principles of service I had learned on my mission, I set to work with one of the modestly dressed people who later turned out to be the company’s manager. Immediately after picking up the goods, he gave me a very important financial responsibility in the office.
Although I am younger, less qualified, and less experienced, many of the staff members come to me for advice because they have found that I do not consume alcohol or tobacco at the workplace. They call me the pastor.
I am currently enrolled in BYU–Pathway Worldwide to improve my English and I plan to get married in the temple soon.
I know that many African missionaries want to go on missions to learn new languages and are sometimes disappointed when they do not see their wishes come true when the mission call arrives. That was my case. But today I am thankful for my mission. I often wonder if I would have had this current job and place to live if I had served an anglophone mission? Only God knows. Because of the testimony I am currently experiencing, I would like to remind us all to let God prevail.

When Ian woke up, he heard his mother singing. It was “I Feel My Savior’s Love.” That was Ian’s favorite Primary song! He started singing along with her.
“You’re awake!” she said. She was smiling and had tears in her eyes. Ian saw his dad sitting next to her. He looked happy too.
“I’ve been singing your favorite songs to you every day,” Mom said.
Ian smiled back—but his head hurt. Actually, his whole body hurt, especially his leg.
He carefully looked around. He wasn’t at home. He was lying on a metal bed in a strange room. Then he saw a nurse and lots of other beds nearby. “This must be a hospital,” he thought.
“What happened to me?” he asked.
Mom’s face turned sad. “You were in a bad accident. A metal gate fell on you. You’ve been in the hospital for two weeks, but you are going to be OK.”
Two weeks! “Wow, that’s a long time to be asleep,” Ian thought. The last thing he could remember was being at the church building, practicing for the Primary program …
Oh no! The program!
“Did I miss the Primary program?” Ian asked. He had been looking forward to it for so long! He loved singing with his friends.
Mom smiled and shook her head. “No, you didn’t miss it. The ward decided to postpone it until you woke up so you could be part of it.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Dad said. “All the Primary kids asked the bishop to wait. They wanted you to be there. They knew how excited you were for it this year.”
Ian was happy he could still be in the Primary program. But he had to get better first. And that took a long time. He had to stay in the hospital for a while longer. When he finally got to come home, he still couldn’t walk or play.
But his friends got to come visit him. Ian would ask them about school and church. And they would ask him when he was coming back.
“Not until my leg is better,” he would tell them. “I still can’t walk.”
October turned into November, and Ian slowly got better. One day his friends invited him to come over and watch a movie with them. Ian’s mom and dad helped get him there.
“Does your leg still hurt?” his friend Chaís asked him.
“Yes,” Ian said. “But it’s getting better every day.”
“Can you walk yet?” Chaís asked.
“I don’t know,” Ian said.
“Here, let’s try,” Chaís said. She helped him stand up. Carefully, Ian put his foot down. He moved his body forward. He was still standing! It was his first step in over a month! Everyone clapped.
“This means you can come back to church!” Chaís said.
And she was right. In a few more weeks, Ian’s leg finally stopped hurting. The doctors took the cast off his leg and put on a brace instead. When Sunday came, it was time for the Primary program.
During sacrament meeting, Ian walked to the front of the chapel with his friends. He stood up straight and smiled at his mom and dad. During the songs, he sang as loud as he could. When it was his turn, he stood at the microphone and shared his testimony. He was grateful for his Primary friends. And he was glad he could be part of the Primary program after all.

“What are you doing, Mommy?” Madolyn asked as she sat down in the kitchen.
Mom rummaged through a box and placed a pile of books on the table. “I’m going through all of these books so we can put them on the new bookshelves.”
Madolyn grabbed a book with a bright orange cover. “I remember this story,” she said. She thumbed through the pages of the picture book.
“I need to organize all of these magazines too,” Mom said as she set some magazines next to the books.
“Wow, look at all of these!” Madolyn picked up a pile of some Friend magazines. She held up one with a picture of Jesus and some children on the cover. “Can I read this one?” she asked.
Mom looked at the magazine. “This is from before you were even born.”
“Can I have it?” Madolyn asked.
“Sure!”
A few days later while Mom was making dinner, Madolyn said, “Mommy, I read a great story in this Friend.”* She held up the old magazine. “It’s about an experiment.”
“What kind of experiment?”
Madolyn opened the magazine and pointed to a picture. “This boy decided to try hard to be nice and not get angry easily. I think Logan, Savannah, and I should try something like that.” She tapped her finger on her forehead. “We’ll try hard to be like Jesus this week. We’ll try not to argue when we play together, and we’ll try to be better examples for each other. We won’t tell the older kids or Dad and see if they can guess what we’re doing.” Madolyn’s smile stretched across her face.
Mom gave Madolyn a squeeze, and said, “That’s a great idea!”
The next night at family scripture study, Clayton, the oldest brother, said, “Savannah, I noticed you’re being extra reverent tonight.” Savannah just smiled and looked over at Madolyn.
One evening after family prayer, Angela, the oldest sister, said, “You all listened to the prayer really well tonight.” Logan, Savannah, and Madolyn all grinned.
Saturday at dinner, Dad said to the younger children, “I’m glad that you all shared your toys today, and played together nicely.” The three children giggled.
When family home evening came, their sister, Rachel, asked, “What’s going on with the little ones?”
“What do you mean?” Mom asked.
“They’ve all been extra reverent and nice for the last few days,” Rachel said.
“I’ve noticed that too,” Dad said.
Madolyn covered her mouth but her big smile peeked out from behind her hand.
“Why don’t you tell the rest of the family, Madolyn,” Mom said.
“We decided to try to be like Jesus for a week, like a boy in a story I read in an old Friend magazine,” Madolyn said.
“We tried to not fight too much,” Logan said.
“And tried to be reverent during prayer and scripture study,” Savannah said.
“I think our experiment turned out very well!” declared Madolyn with a great big smile. And everyone agreed.

Some time ago I went through a period in which I was plagued with many personal problems and felt that I had nobody to help me solve them. I was attending church regularly but had not been successful in finding solutions to my difficulties. Fear often overcame me, especially during the night. I was very unhappy.
One day when I was feeling particularly distraught, I tried to get in touch with the mission president. On another day I had a strong desire to reach the President of the Church. I thought if I could just speak with or write to him, he would give me the answers I sought.
While in this troubled state of mind, I attended a session of district conference in Cúcuta, Colombia. I found the answer I needed during a talk by the mission president. When President Canals asked, “When is the last time you had a spiritual experience?” I realized that I had been so preoccupied with trying to find someone to help me solve my problems that I had forgotten the Savior’s call to draw near unto Him (see D&C 88:63). In my rush to find a solution, I had forgotten the Being who had power to give me peace in my afflictions and to answer my prayers.
That very day I started the process of drawing nearer to my Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. I told Heavenly Father of my fear and anguish, and I prayed in the name of Jesus Christ that I might have His Spirit to be with me. I dropped all of my burdens at the Savior’s feet, remembering His promise: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).
I still don’t have all the answers to my personal problems, but I have received strength and comfort. I have also received impressions that if I live a righteous life, keep the commandments, and serve the Lord with all my heart, He will help me solve my problems or give me strength to endure them (see Mosiah 24:14).

Elder Michael Cziesla remembers the struggles of 2017 very well. On a Tuesday in January, he lost his employment with an international law firm when the company declared insolvency. The next day his home was flooded when a water line broke. Burglars ransacked his house the third day trying to take the family’s valuables. In a few days, his life turned upside down.
“I smiled that Sunday as usual as I sat on the stand as stake president,” he said. “No one knew what was going on. But inside I was grieving terribly. I was in a very dark place.”
After the meeting, a quiet, gentle man in the ward asked him what was wrong. “He simply listened, and then he hugged me,” Elder Cziesla said. “I felt the Lord embracing me, that He knew my plight, that all would be right.”

The Savior has given us many ways to focus on Him intentionally, including the daily opportunity to repent. Sometimes we undervalue how great this offered blessing is. When I was eight years old, I was baptized by my father. Afterward, I held his hand as we were going to cross a busy street. I was not paying attention and stepped from the curb just as a big truck came rumbling by. My father jerked me back, out of the street and onto the curb. Had he not done so, I would have been hit by the truck. Knowing my own mischievous nature, I thought, “Maybe it would have been better for me to be killed by the truck because I’ll never be as clean as I am now right after my baptism.”
As an eight-year-old, I had mistakenly presumed that the water of baptism washed away sins. Not so. In the years since my baptism, I have learned that sins are cleansed by the power of Jesus Christ through His atoning sacrifice as we make and keep the baptismal covenant. Then, through the gift of repentance, we can remain clean. I have also learned that the sacrament brings a powerful virtuous cycle into our lives, enabling us to retain a remission of our sins.

Life in the Latter-day Saint community of Safford, Arizona, in the early part of the twentieth century was hard. Water was scarce, money scarcer.
I was eleven years old. It was 1919, and my pa had died the year before of influenza. Taking care of us six children and keeping the farm going took most of Mama’s time. There was no money for extras. What money her milk and egg business brought in was put by to pay the property taxes.
When school let out for the summer, my thirteen-year-old sister, Florence, begged Mama to let her work for a family in town. Mama said no because she needed her at home to help care for the little ones.
Being the oldest boy, it was up to me to bring in the much-needed money for the family. I heard from our ward (home) teachers that Brother Miller needed help.
According to my Aunt Minnie, Brother Miller had not set foot inside church in more than thirty-five years. Aunt Minnie was my great-aunt and knew the history of every family in town. What she didn’t know, she was fond of saying, wasn’t worth knowing.
I found Brother Miller working in his garden. He looked up from his work to scowl at me. “What brings you this way, boy?” “I’m looking for a job. Sir,” I added, remembering my manners.
He wiped his forehead with the bandanna tucked in his pocket. “You’d be Donald McBride’s boy, is that right?”
I nodded. “Hyrum Andrew McBride.”
“Well, Hyrum Andrew, your pa had a reputation for being a hard worker.” He squinted against the glare of the sun as he took my measure. “Do you take after him?”
“I try, sir.”
“You have yourself a job.” He led the way to the back of the barn. “You chop this pile of wood and stack it neatly. You do a good job, and I’ll pay you $2.25.”
It seemed a huge sum of money. I gulped, thinking of what we could buy with it—a bit of sugar, maybe some material for Mama to make herself a new dress.
“Mind you, I don’t pay for a poor job or a job not done.”
I nodded once more.
“I need the wood cut by Sunday evening. If you don’t finish, there’ll be no money.”
Today was Wednesday. I figured I could complete the work by Saturday night.
Mama didn’t believe in working on the Sabbath. Animals had to be fed and the cows milked, but we didn’t work in the garden or the fields. We ate bread left over from Saturday’s baking, dipped in milk and butter and spread with some of Mama’s jam. Sundays belonged to the Lord and were treated with reverence.
The work was backbreaking, and I stumbled home at night too tired to do more than fall into bed. The thought of how much our family needed the money kept me going, even when the temperature climbed above a hundred degrees.
By Friday afternoon, I knew I had underestimated how long it would take to do the job. Even if I worked twelve hours the next day, I wouldn’t finish the work by nightfall.
Of course, Brother Miller had given me until Sunday evening. I could work on Sunday, complete the job, and collect my money, but the idea left a sour taste in my mouth.
On the way home, I reasoned with myself that working just this once on Sunday would be all right. No matter how hard I tried, though, I could not quiet the small voice that reminded me of the baptismal covenant I had made three years before.
When I explained to Mama about the money, how Brother Miller wouldn’t pay me for the job if I didn’t complete it on time, she continued kneading her bread dough. “Do you remember the promises you made at your baptism?”
I nodded and hung my head, shamed that, even for a moment, I had considered breaking the Sabbath.
I recalled the blessing my father had given me when he had confirmed me a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. “Keep the commandments, Son. Use them as a compass to guide you.”
The following morning I told Brother Miller of my decision.
He fell silent. At last, he asked, “You in the habit of breaking a promise, boy?”
“No sir. That’s why I can’t work for you on Sunday.”
“How’s that?”
“I made a promise back when I was baptized that I would obey the commandments. That means I don’t work on Sunday. I can’t go back on that. Even for this.” I gestured to the pile of wood. The money I would have earned didn’t seem as important anymore.
“I told you I don’t pay for an unfinished job.” He paused and gave me a long look. “You still planning on working today, even if I don’t pay you?”
“Yes sir. I aim to keep my promise to you the best I can. But I won’t be working tomorrow.”
Brother Miller scratched his chin. “You do what you have to.” With that, he turned and left.
I was sure that I wouldn’t receive any pay, but I was determined to finish what work I could that day. By late afternoon, Brother Miller returned. After counting out two dollar bills and a pile of coins, he pressed them into my hand.
My fingers started to close around the money. Then, reluctantly, I opened my hand to give the money back to him. “I can’t finish until Monday, sir.”
“That’s fine.”
“But—”
“You made me think of some promises I made a long time ago,” he said, his voice gruffer than normal. “I expect you here first thing Monday morning.”
“Yes sir.”
Sweat and wood dust coated my arms and face when I returned home. My muscles screamed with fatigue, but I scarcely noticed. I handed the money to Mama and explained what had happened.
“The Lord takes care of His own,” she said. Her faith never wavered. I hoped my own faith would be as strong someday.
The next day, we saw Brother Miller in church, sitting right up front. Shyly I smiled at him. He didn’t smile back but nodded shortly. He continued attending church until he died twelve years later.
I never forgot that job. Or the promise I had made and kept.

Sometimes it’s difficult for new members to stay rooted in the gospel when they don’t have a complete assurance of what the future holds. Learning about this aspect of faith for Mei-ling, a homemaker in Taiwan, involved the gospel admonition to bring children into the world, a challenging step because “many in my culture have one child or have a pet instead,” she observes. Each pregnancy has required her to have faith to step into the unknown and ignore sometimes intense criticism from relatives and the culture at large.
Often, moving forward requires stepping into the unknown, which can be intimidating to those new in the faith. It requires developing trust that the Lord will help them along the path. Having unease and uncertainty, Elder Bednar assures, is a normal part of our learning and growing process, but sometimes our steps into the unknown—whether they involve forming a family or returning to participation in the Church—can be particularly daunting because the witness comes after the trial of our faith (see Ether 12:6). Mei-ling and her husband received such a witness after creating a family. “We are happy and so grateful for our children,” she says. “We’ve learned to live frugally, to help and love each other. I’m grateful we brought them into the world.”

In England, when John Taylor was seventeen, he was appointed to be a preacher in his church. He was given assignments to preach in areas outside the city.
John: The Lord has commanded us to pray always in His name.
After John arrived in Canada, he continued to go to church and study the Bible. He and his wife, Leonora, joined with some of their friends to study the Bible.
John: We need to pray that God will send His servant to give us the truth!
Leonora: Yes, and to pray that we will know it when we hear it!
In Kirtland, Ohio, Elder Heber C. Kimball called Elder Parley P. Pratt to serve a mission to Toronto, Canada.
Elder Kimball: Elder Pratt, you will find a people prepared for the gospel, and they shall receive thee.
Elder Pratt: If a servant of the Lord extends such a promise, I will go to Canada.
When Elder Pratt first visited with the Taylor family, John Taylor began to study what Elder Pratt preached.
John: If I find your religion true, I shall accept it, no matter what the consequences may be; and if false, then I shall expose it.
For three weeks, John Taylor followed Elder Pratt wherever he preached. He studied and prayed about what Elder Pratt taught.
Elder Pratt: Joseph Smith translated this book, the Book of Mormon.
On May 9, 1836, John and Leonora Taylor were baptized.
Elder Pratt ordained John Taylor as an elder, and they worked together to spread the gospel. Their first baptisms were President Taylor’s parents, Agnes and James Taylor.
John Taylor remained loyal to the truth of the gospel.

It’s not a real mission, but it is missionary service. And it’s for four weeks instead of two years. But it does bless and change lives.
Every year around Easter, people of all ages are called to serve in the Mesa Arizona Easter Pageant.
Performed on the grounds of the Mesa Arizona Temple, the pageant tells the story of the Savior’s birth, life, death, and Resurrection. The production requires hundreds of volunteers to design and sew colorful period costumes, build stages and props, write original music, and perform for an audience of approximately 150,000 during the month.
While a production as demanding as the Easter pageant might burn out the normal volunteer, the youth who participate tell of a different attitude. These 132 young volunteers say they are changed forever by the strong spirit that fills the temple grounds, and they want to return to the pageant again and again.
Before and after each performance, 425 cast members step out of their biblical characters to become real-life missionaries. Their job is to mingle with the crowd, greeting visitors and answering their questions about the pageant and the Church.
“One night, I was talking to some people in the audience and started talking to a family,” says Preston Merchant, 12. “I had a good discussion with them and really felt the Spirit. I thought, ‘This is what the Easter pageant is all about!’”
Participants promise to obey certain simple rules:
Never miss even one rehearsal or performance;
Attend the evening devotionals;
Pray often;
Read your scriptures every day;
Tell your friends and neighbors about the pageant;
Be a good representative of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in every way.
Full-time missionaries from the Arizona Tempe Mission met with cast members to teach them how to answer questions about the Church and how to give away a Book of Mormon.
“I loved bearing my testimony to the audience,” says 14-year-old Connie Fairbanks. “After our performance, we talked to the people in the audience. It was really neat to see how the Spirit had touched them.”
The youth aren’t the only ones getting into the act. Entire families participate in the pageant, either as members of the cast or part of the crew. One family, the Nielsons, voted to audition for the pageant together. “My family said either everyone’s in or no one is. Majority rules,” says David Nielson, 14. “So we all went as a family and tried out—and we all made it!” David played a beggar and a member of the mob in the pageant.
Telicia, David’s 12-year-old sister, played a child in the multitude, but she’s also a gymnast, so she was worried about the time commitment. “I love gymnastics,” she says. “And I knew if I got a part, I wouldn’t be able to work out [in the gym] for a whole month.” But Telicia says she doesn’t feel bad about her choice to miss gymnastics because she gained a stronger testimony of the Savior and His sacrifice.
“I invited my gymnastics coach and several of my teammates to come to the Easter pageant,” she adds. “They’re not members, but they said they would come. I was so excited!”
Kristin, 17, Telicia’s older sister, played an angel. The angels dance and sing on a platform high above the stage, which is pretty scary for Kristin. But she says she felt peaceful and closer to the Savior when she and the other angels sang about His birth. “Not only have I drawn closer to my Savior, but my family became closer to each other,” she says. “For one month, we dropped all our other activities and spent every night together. It was the neatest experience ever!”
The best part about the pageant is the spirit that surrounds it. Eighteen-year-old Janna Halcomb’s brother encouraged her to try out for the pageant with him just before he left on his mission to Hungary. “That year we were able to be angels together,” she says. “It was such an incredible experience. The Spirit on the temple grounds is so strong, and as we bore witness of the Savior and His life my testimony was strengthened.”
Many of the youth describe the mood of the pageant and on the temple grounds as a sweet feeling that seems to envelop them and anyone else who comes. “The many witnesses of Jesus Christ that I have received have been incredibly worth my time and sacrifice,” says 17-year-old A. J. Wilcox. “This has been great preparation for my mission.”
Dayton Rohner’s mom thought it would be a good idea for her family to volunteer for the pageant. At 17, Dayton wasn’t so sure. But now he’s grateful to his mom. “Being in the pageant helped me feel what others might have felt when the Savior healed the sick and taught through example what we should do in our lives. Through this experience I now have a better understanding of our Lord and His sacrifice.”
These young volunteers say they want to be a part of the pageant again; it’s such a great experience. Sister Nanci Wudel, director of public affairs, has heard similar comments. “The young men and women tell me they do better in their schoolwork, on tests, at sports, and in their lives altogether during the month of the pageant. They believe they really are blessed for participating,” she says.
Two years ago, the Pace family was able to bring a part of the Easter pageant home with them. A pure white baby lamb, needed for a scene where Adam offers a sacrifice, didn’t have a mother, and many worried the lamb might die.
“When my mother noticed the lamb,” Kelsey Pace, 14, remembers, “she told the owner that I had raised lambs on a bottle before. So the lamb became my responsibility. I had to feed her every four hours, even in the middle of the night, with extra-large bottles of powdered goat’s milk and sometimes medicine, too.
“We prayed for her every day. She is now healthy, and she’s even in the pageant again as one of the sheep with the shepherds who hear the angel tell of the birth of Jesus.” The lamb, now a family pet, lives in the Paces’ backyard.
“A few weeks after my family tried out for the pageant, we each got letters telling us that we all made it. My dad was assigned to be Joseph in the scene of 12-year-old Jesus in the temple, my mom got to be Mary, and I played Jesus. When I looked at our letters again, I couldn’t believe it! I know Jesus lives and the Church is true, and I’m glad I got to be a missionary by being in the Easter pageant.”–Tyler Starr, 12
“Being cast as Eve alongside my brother, Trevor, who played Adam, was the best thing that could have happened to me. Every time I watched the scenes of the miracles Jesus performed so long ago, I received such a strong confirmation from the Spirit! I know He suffered and died for us. I know He did that so I could repent of the bad choices I’ve made. That piece of knowledge is priceless to me.”—Casey Gorton, 17
“Last year was my ninth year in the pageant, and I loved the experience. It was a wonderful way to bear testimony of Jesus Christ and His life. Sometimes it was hard for me when I had to act in the betrayal scene and yell, ‘Crucify him!’ I can’t imagine doing that in real life. I am grateful for the opportunity I had to be in the pageant. It helped my testimony to grow.”—David Butler, 14
“I loved setting up for the Last Supper scene. At the beginning of this particular scene, the director asked for silence because it allowed the Spirit to really touch our hearts but also because the subject matter is so sacred. My favorite part is when Jesus tells His disciples to love one another. It was almost as if He were talking to me. It made me want to go out and just love everybody.”—Aubri Erbe, 16

Carol Hyatt will never forget the day her bishop asked her to facilitate a self-reliance class on personal finances. She and her husband, Ted, had only recently returned to activity in the Church after a 42-year absence, and she was naturally shy.
Carol had known her bishop, Todd A. Josi, since he was a boy. Decades earlier, he had attended her Sunday School class.
“Now, Bishop,” she frankly told him after she and Ted had begun attending church again, “I don’t want to give a talk. I don’t want to do a calling. I just want to come to church.”
But two years later, Bishop Josi was sitting in the Hyatt home talking about the Church’s Self-Reliance Services initiative—something Sister Hyatt had never heard of. After introducing it, the bishop asked her to facilitate a 12-week class on principles of successful financial stewardship. Then he gave her a copy of the Personal Finances for Self-Reliance manual.
“I don’t know why I said yes,” Sister Hyatt recalls. “It’s frightening for me to be around people I don’t know—and to think I had to be there one night a week for 12 weeks with Church members who were certainly more ingrained in the gospel than I was. I didn’t know if I’d even be able to help them.”
Bishop Josi wasn’t surprised that Sister Hyatt accepted the assignment despite her hesitation. He says that during a stake self-reliance committee meeting in Forest Grove, Oregon, USA, a short time before, “It came to my mind that Sister Hyatt needed the blessing of facilitating the personal finances group. It just hit me so hard.”
Bishop Josi hoped that by facilitating the class, Sister Hyatt would overcome a major stumbling block to her spiritual progress: paying tithing. “As I drove home that evening,” he says, “I had a strong spiritual impression that as Sister Hyatt went through this class, she would come to understand the importance of paying tithing.”
Feeling nervous and ill-prepared, Sister Hyatt began facilitating her class in October 2017. As she led class discussions on managing finances, creating and sticking to a budget, preparing for hardship, getting out of debt, managing financial crises, and investing in the future, Sister Hyatt became comfortable as a facilitator but uncomfortable with her personal example.
When she read the manual in preparation for her third class, she learned that the “self-reliant approach to financial stewardship” includes paying tithes and offerings.1 She also learned that the foundation principle of that approach is repentance and obedience.2
“During one of the later lessons, I admitted to everybody that I was probably the only one in the whole group who wasn’t paying tithing,” she recalls. That admission prompted support from her 13 class members and discussions and testimonies about the blessings of the law of tithing.
“I don’t know why I was so troubled before about tithing, but I realized that I needed to get serious about getting a testimony of it,” says Sister Hyatt. “As I listened to encouragement from my group and from my husband, the Spirit said, ‘You can do this!’ I gained that little extra faith I needed, and I realized that I would be a better facilitator if I was doing what I was asking my class to do.”
A few days after her 11th class, Sister Hyatt approached Bishop Josi at church, took his hand, and told him she was ready to live the law of tithing. “He was so excited,” she says.
Brother Hyatt, who was attending his wife’s class, was also excited. As he paid his own tithing during the previous year, he often encouraged Sister Hyatt by reminding her of a blessing she longed for. “We won’t get to the temple unless you pay your tithing,” he would say.
On May 26, 2018, the windows of heaven opened and poured out a blessing on Ted and Carol Hyatt that they had not imagined possible months before when Sister Hyatt began facilitating her class. On that day, the day before their 58th anniversary, they made covenants and were sealed in the Portland Oregon Temple.
The Hyatts describe that experience as “a beautiful day and a marvelous blessing” for which they will always be grateful. Sister Hyatt adds that she will also always be grateful for an encouraging husband, an inspired bishop, and a class of students who, she feels, helped her more than she helped them. To show their love and support, nearly every member of her class attended the Hyatts’ sealing.
“People can gain so much from the Church’s self-reliance initiative, especially the spiritual part of it,” says Sister Hyatt. “It’s the spiritual part that makes it so valuable. For my husband and me, it has made an eternal difference.”

The odds seemed against our marriage from the start. My parents divorced when I was four. By the time I left for my mission, my parents had gone through three more marriages. One of those marriages lasted only seven months. My wife’s parents divorced when she was 13. According to statistics, we were three more times likely to divorce than people raised in intact homes.1
Those of us who have experienced this can wonder if marriage is a good idea. After all, we’ve suffered the effects of divorce. We’ve had siblings, grandparents, and other relatives who have entered and exited our lives like waves on a seashore. We’ve seen what divorce can do to everyone involved. Why would we enter this relationship that’s supposed to last for eternity, when we’ve seen the bitter ends of these kinds of relationships in a few short years?
Despite all that, I wasn’t afraid of marriage. I had watched the relationships falling apart as a youth, but I knew that if I could find a better model, I could make marriage work. Since all of them lacked a firm gospel foundation, I thought that might be the missing ingredient.
When Nephi was told to build a ship, the Lord told him, “Thou shalt construct a ship, after the manner which I shall show thee” (1 Nephi 17:8). Nephi did and says it was not built “after the manner of men” but “after the manner which the Lord had shown unto me” (1 Nephi 18:2). By building your future marriage on gospel principles—by building them in the manner the Lord has shown—you can have a successful relationship regardless of your background.
As we moved forward in our relationship, Annie (my wife) and I agreed on a few things. The first was that there was no easy escape clause in our marriage. Divorce wasn’t an option unless infidelity or abuse were involved. We agreed that everything else could be worked out. We also recognized that the behavior patterns we had seen in our homes growing up didn’t work. We needed a better way: that way is the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Because Annie and I had both previously been endowed, temple attendance was an important part of our courtship. We went regularly and enjoyed the Spirit together. We started studying the Book of Mormon together. This formed a good basis for our discussions about what we wanted to create in a marriage.
The same month that my wife and I got engaged, the Church released the proclamation on the family, which counsels, “Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ. Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities.”2
Similarly, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) in speaking of the increase in divorces throughout the world, identified one major reason: “It appears to me that there are some obvious reasons that account for a very high percentage of these problems. I say this out of experience in dealing with such tragedies. I find selfishness to be the root cause of most of it.”3
It’s easy to blame our spouse for problems, especially the small annoyances that bubble up with daily living. If we concentrate on those problems, they can grow into huge divisions that can sink a marriage.4 I’ve often found that selfishness makes those frustrations grow. Knowing this has helped me to think more about Annie and her needs and helps me to ignore minor annoyances.
We have now been married for 22 years. It hasn’t always been easy. Annie and I have had the normal relationship bumps. There have been difficulties over the years. But because of our commitment to the relationship and a willingness to turn to the Lord for answers, we have grown together. As different situations and questions have arisen, we have been able to turn to the scriptures, the teachings of the prophets, and prayer to find solutions.
The average length of a first marriage that ends in divorce is nine years (in the USA).5 Because Annie and I built our marriage after the manner the Lord has shown us, we beat those odds. I’m glad we didn’t let fear of the world we were raised in stop us. There’s always more work to do, but we are both confident that our marriage will continue to improve through the years to come.

The children were excited for sharing time. A returned missionary was visiting to tell about his mission in Japan. When he had arrived in Japan, everything seemed so different. The Japanese people used chopsticks instead of forks, wrote sentences using characters instead of letters, and spoke a language that was hard for him to understand. Children took their lunches to school in “bento boxes” and read books from back to front. The missionary quickly learned to love the Japanese people and the way they lived.

The Lord wants all of us to be missionaries. One way you can do that is by being a friend to those who have moved into your neighborhood or come from another country and to those who look, speak, or dress differently. As you learn to love those who are different from you, you are preparing for the day when you are called to serve a mission. It could be anywhere in the world!

“One day in my early teens a remarkable boy gave me a copy of English poems with pages torn, worn, and soiled, but it changed my life. One verse was marked: ‘Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for?’

“So wrote English poet Robert Browning decades before I read it that day and I took it personally, appropriate to my self-discovery, of hopeful idealism and firming philosophy.

“Worn leather volumes containing William Shakespeare, William Wordsworth, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and Geoffrey Chaucer were passed into my hands by this boy who understood the grasp-and-reach theory. The public library provided me with ugly, stiff, practical new bindings of Charles Dickens and Robert Louis Stevenson and Ralph Waldo Emerson’s essay ‘Friendship.’

“I loved all these books unabashedly.

“This boy and I couldn’t understand everything we read, but it was so exhilarating trying to understand that it was like coming in with the tide. Stretching our minds in the reading and then struggling to say it back in our own words to each other kept our relationship going one swift summer and was the basis for a lifelong friendship.”

Among those who were in dire circumstances on the plains was my wife’s great-grandmother. She was part of the Hunt wagon company.
Today, my wife’s gravesite in the Salt Lake City Cemetery looks down at the gravesite of her great-grandmother, Mary Penfold Goble, who died in the arms of her daughter as she was entering this valley on December 11, 1856. She was buried the next day. She had lost three of her children on that long journey. The feet of a surviving daughter were terribly frozen.

Jamie covered his clothes with his father’s old shirt and started to paint a picture.
He began with a clean white sheet of paper and painted a blue swirl on it.
He added a jagged yellow line.
Then he painted a blob of black, some pink circles that looked like balloons, some orange spots resembling freckles, some red lines similar to jackstraws, and some green smudges just like the green smear on his chin.
He added a lavender patch like the one he had dropped on his dog, Sam. He painted dashes and slashes and twirls and curls.
Then his painting arm got tired. He was finished.
Jamie stood back and looked at it. “It’s beautiful,” he said.
Sam looked at it and growled.
Jamie ran all the way to the art museum where the art contest for the school was being held. He showed his picture to the director, Mr. Lundy, who scratched his head and said, “It might be a good painting and it might be a bad one. I’ll have to let the visitors decide.”
Mr. Lundy hung the painting, and under it he put a writing tablet, a pencil, and a sign. The sign read “If you like this painting, please vote for it.”
Jamie sat on a high stool beside his picture and anxiously waited for the visitors.
The first visitor was a man with a beautiful red beard. He looked at the painting and smiled.
“Do you like it?” Jamie asked, then held his breath.
The man nodded. “I’m a mountain climber and I see that this painter has painted the very mountain that I once climbed in far-off Switzerland.”
Jamie looked at his picture in surprise.
“It’s a mountain?” he asked.
“Yes, Mount Skyhook.” The man reached for the tablet. “I’ll be glad to vote for this picture.”
The next visitor was a teacher from Jamie’s school. She looked at the picture for a long time, then wiped her eyes with a lace hankie.
“Does the picture make you sad?” Jamie asked, forgetting he was always a little shy around teachers.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there.” She quickly hid her hankie in her purse. “I haven’t seen my father for a long time, and this artist has painted a picture of my father’s spectacles.”
“Your father’s spectacles!” Jamie blinked in astonishment.
The teacher nodded. “This artist must have known and loved my father. Now that summer vacation is nearly here, I’m going to take the next train home to see him.” She wrote her name on the tablet. “And I’m going to vote for this painting.”
Jamie had scarcely recovered from the reaction of the second visitor when a third appeared. The man was dressed in the clothes of a sea captain. He stared at the picture as he whispered softly to himself. Jamie couldn’t quite hear what he said.
Finally Jamie asked, “Do you have a boat?” Before Jamie had decided to become an artist, he had planned to be a sea captain.
“Ho there, boy. Didn’t see you.” The captain shook his head sadly. “Once I had a ship, the Dory-D—the sweetest little three-masted schooner afloat. We sailed the seven seas together, me and my Dory-D.” He wiped a blue sleeve across his eyes.
“Did you lose her?” Jamie asked, wanting to cry too.
“Aye, in the wickedest storm that ever lashed the African coast. So broken up I was that I settled on land and vowed never to set foot on a deck again. But after seeing my Dory-D …”
“Your Dory-D?” And Jamie stared again at his picture.
“Aye, lad, someone has painted my Dory-D to her very last jib. The picture has given me heart again. It’s off to sea I am with a deck under my feet and a sky over my head and oh, laddie, won’t that feel great!”
After that twenty-two people came to see Jamie’s picture and twenty-two people voted for it—each one for his own special reason.
When Jamie told the director about the visitors, Mr. Lundy nodded. “In your picture people could see what they wanted to see and it made them happy. Therefore, it is a good painting.” Then he added, “Of course, you and I know that it’s really a painting of the prize rosebush in my backyard.”
“No,” Jamie said, “it’s a picture of my dog, Sam. And Sam was the only one who didn’t like it!”

When I reached my teenage years, people started calling me “ugly” and “fat” at school. My confidence and feelings of self-worth were very low. I doubted the Church, Heavenly Father, and the whole plan of salvation. I didn’t want to go to church, Mutual, or firesides. I felt depressed and unworthy.
My mom, wanting me to try and make friends, helped me attend a youth camp when I turned 14. During the first session of scripture study there, I had a prompting to start reading the Book of Mormon. As soon as I read the first few words, I felt peace. The Holy Ghost was with me once again.

It was a beautiful Sunday morning. Sister Andrus opened the classroom window to let in the fresh spring air. On a soft breeze came the smell of lilacs and the song of robins.
After Sarah gave the opening prayer, Sister Andrus announced, “Today we are going on a treasure hunt.”
There were gasps of joy from everyone. “Please can we go outside?” Ashley asked, looking longingly at the blue sky through the window.
“Yes, indeed,” Sister Andrus said with a smile. “How could we stay indoors on a day like today!”
“What is the treasure?” Tony wanted to know.
“Actually, there are many treasures—treasures from Heavenly Father,” Sister Andrus told the class. “They will be somewhere outside. I want each of you to search carefully until you think you’ve found one. Then we’ll come back inside and share our discoveries. But remember,” she cautioned, “this is not a time to run and be noisy. You will need to look quickly and quietly. You have only five to ten minutes to find a treasure. Let’s go.”
With shining eyes, the children hushed each other as they tiptoed after the teacher down the hallway, through the heavy glass door, and into the bright sunshine.
Once outside, all the children scattered and began to search under rocks and behind bushes for treasures. All, that is, except Joey, who stretched out on the grass, put one hand behind his head, and smiled as he watched the clouds floating by.
Soon Sister Andrus called the children to line up. Back they went through the glass door, down the hallway, and into their classroom.
As soon as they entered the classroom, everyone wanted to talk at once. Sister Andrus had to quiet the excited children. “I’m sure you’re all eager to share your discoveries with us, but we must take turns so that everyone can be heard. Aaron, why don’t you go first? What treasure did you find?”
Aaron dug deep into his pocket and pulled out a large rock, which he put on the table with a thump. “I found it by the parking lot,” he said. “It has glitter in it.”
The teacher held it up in the light. “It’s beautiful, Aaron. It sparkles like a jewel. You have good eyes to have found this treasure.”
Aaron smiled shyly.
Next was Jenny’s turn. She opened her hand to reveal a clump of grass. “Smell it,” she urged everyone as she held it under each one’s nose.
“Oh, I just love the smell of fresh-cut grass,” said Sister Andrus, sniffing. Jenny nodded. “I like to walk on it barefoot.”
“Soft, green grass is a treasure,” their teacher said.
“Sister Andrus, I found something that smells good, too,” said Ashley, “but I didn’t think I should pick them—the pretty purple flowers on the tree in the corner.”
“Lilacs!” Sister Andrus clapped her hands together. “You were right not to pick them, Ashley. But they and all flowers truly are a treasure.”
Tony raised his hand. “But flowers can’t walk,” he pointed out. “I found a bug outside. It landed on my nose. I just watched it till it flew away.”
“I’m glad you were careful not to hurt it, Tony,” the teacher praised him.
“But, Teacher, isn’t a bug a greater treasure than a rock or grass or a flower?” Tony asked.
“And isn’t a bird a greater treasure than a bug?” Chad piped up. “That’s the treasure I found. A bird can fly and sing, and it eats bugs.”
“Teacher! Teacher!” Sarah was jumping up and down waving her hand. “I think Heavenly Father’s greatest treasure is the sun. Without sunlight there wouldn’t be any plants or animals.”
“That’s true, Sarah. The sun is a necessary treasure,” Sister Andrus said. “Who would’ve guessed there were so many treasures right outside our classroom?” She turned to Joey. “You’ve been very quiet, Joey. Did you find a treasure when you went outside today?”
He shrugged. “I guess I was too busy enjoying everything outside to look for just one treasure.”
Sister Andrus patted him on the knee. “That’s fine, Joey. Class,” she announced, “I think that in a way, Joey not only found many treasures, but he also knew what to do with them.”
“He did?” the other children said.
“Yes, he did,” Sister Andrus repeated. “Who created all these miracles we’ve talked about today?”
“I know.” Jenny raised her hand. “Jesus did.”
“That’s right—Jesus did under Heavenly Father’s direction. And why did he create all these wonderful things?”
“For us?” Tony guessed.
“For you, Tony, and for me, and for all of us to take care of—and appreciate. That’s what Joey was doing—appreciating them.
“And,” she went on, “while it’s important to appreciate these—and all the treasures Jesus has given us—it’s even more important to know that as his children, if we learn about the treasures he gives to us, and about him, and obey his commandments, we can become like him. We can someday become Creators, too, and have eternal life, which is the greatest of all his treasures to us.”

When the Civil War erupted, Louisa felt a need to do her part. In 1862, she moved to Washington, D.C., and served as a nurse in the Union Army. She worked hard and got very little sleep because of her concern for the wounded soldiers. She became a trusted friend of many of the young patients. However, after only a few weeks at the hospital, Louisa became very ill with typhoid fever. Her father arrived in time to take her back home, where fresh air, rest, and her mother’s care helped her to recover. Later Louisa compiled the letters that she had written to her family from Washington about the suffering soldiers into a book called Hospital Sketches.

Although I always strove to keep the commandments and live worthily, I truly started preparing to receive my own endowment before going on my mission.
I took a temple preparation class that was very helpful to me. Two ministering sisters offered to answer questions and help me know what to expect. And as I listened to their experiences and their testimonies, my anticipation to enter the temple intensified.
But much to my surprise, after I finished taking my temple prep class and as the day of my endowment drew closer, I started facing a lot of temptations.
Likewise, I saw a lot of opposition in preparing to serve a full-time mission. I experienced a lot of anxiety. My mental health started to dwindle, and I had to take necessary steps to face my feelings and move forward with faith.
As this was happening, I realized that the adversary did not want me to take these great spiritual steps.
To combat this opposition, I prayed every day for help to overcome temptations and my anxious feelings. I relied on Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ more than I ever had before. I fasted, studied the scriptures, and sought revelation. I prayed for strength to make the right decisions, to overcome my weaknesses, and to simply feel peace in my heart and keep an eternal perspective.
Those small spiritual practices helped me better recognize and follow the promptings of the Spirit. I also felt my anxiety lessen. I gained a greater understanding of the healing power of Jesus Christ and was often enveloped in peace when I turned to Him.
Ironically, it was through facing temptations and fear that I was able to come closer to Christ and prepare myself to receive my endowment.
And when I entered the Sapporo Japan Temple, the familiar Spirit I had felt as a child in the Tokyo Temple lobby was there, but this time it was so much stronger, just as I had always imagined it would be.
After receiving my endowment, I sat quietly in the celestial room and said a prayer, asking Heavenly Father what He wanted me to know.
The Spirit revealed to me that Heavenly Father knew me and my circumstances (see Doctrine and Covenants 38:2). I knew that He was pleased with me for making covenants and that He wants us to come to His house—a house that can truly distance us from the hectic world while strengthening us and bringing us closer to Him and Jesus Christ.
I felt the most powerful feeling of peace in my heart. And I was also able to receive the revelation I needed to feel confident in my decision to serve a mission.