Gospel Story Finder

Allow me to share some of these miraculous blessings from letters and accounts I have received over the past four years. A humble couple from Idaho met fear with faith when the Lord called them to Russia. They wrote the following acceptance letter: “No one would have imagined we would be called to this assignment. We have no idea how we will learn the language or manage to be of service, and although we accept with much trepidation, going completely on faith, we know that the Lord and His prophet know more than we do where we should serve.” Ten months later the Stockholm Sweden Temple welcomed 30 Saints from a small branch in Russia led by this couple from Idaho who had barely begun to learn the Russian language. The scriptures tell us, “God has provided a means that man, through faith, might work mighty miracles.” Thus, God’s work is carried out by His children: “That faith also might increase in the earth. … That the fulness of my gospel might be proclaimed by the weak and the simple unto the ends of the world.”

Brother Michael Kagle took a convoy of trucks loaded with equipment from his own company to Mississippi. Many employees, who are not of our faith, volunteered to go with him every weekend to give assistance in the storm-stricken areas. Walkie-talkies were used for communication along the way. Mike’s high priests group leader, while driving along with them in his pickup truck, said he had white knuckles from driving so fast. Trying to slow the convoy down, he got on the walkie-talkie and said, “Gentlemen, do you realize we are going 80 miles per hour?” One of the truck drivers came on and said, “Well, you have to understand that’s all these big trucks will do. We can’t go any faster.” Hundreds of letters of gratitude have been received. One woman, a nurse from Mississippi, wrote: “I was speechless. Had God answered my prayers so quickly? Tears immediately began to roll down my cheeks as men in hard hats and boots, with chain saws of all shapes and sizes, appeared out of the debris. It was absolutely, unequivocally, one of the most supreme sacrifices that has ever happened to me personally.”

“Talking about suicide in appropriate ways actually helps to prevent it rather than encourage it,” taught Sister Aburto. Her father died by suicide. For many years, she avoided talking about his death with her family. However, she has since learned the value in speaking about it honestly and plainly. “I have now openly discussed my father’s death with my children and witnessed the healing that the Savior can give on both sides of the veil.”

Perseverance is demonstrated by those who keep going when the going gets tough, who don’t give up even when others say, “It can’t be done.” In 1864 the First Presidency assigned Apostles Ezra T. Benson and Lorenzo Snow, along with Elders Alma Smith and William W. Cluff, on a mission to the Hawaiian Islands. From Honolulu they took passage on a small boat to the little harbor of Lahaina. As they approached the reef, the surf was running high and a heavy swell struck the boat, carrying it about 50 yards and leaving it in a trough between two huge waves. When the second swell struck, the boat capsized into the foaming sea.

The people on the shore manned a lifeboat and picked up three of the brethren, who were swimming near the submerged boat. But there was no sign of Brother Snow. Hawaiians accustomed to the surf swam in every direction to search for him. Eventually one of them felt something in the water, and they pulled Brother Snow to the surface. His body was stiff, and he looked like he was dead as they hauled him into the boat.

Elder Smith and Elder Cluff laid Brother Snow’s body across their laps and quietly administered to him, asking the Lord to spare his life that he might return to his family and home. When they reached the shore, they carried Brother Snow to some large empty barrels lying on the beach. Laying him face downwards on one of them, they rolled him back and forth to expel the water he had swallowed.

After the elders worked over him for some time, without any indication of life, the bystanders said that nothing more could be done for him. But the determined elders would not give up. So they prayed again, with the quiet assurance that the Lord would hear and answer their prayers.

They were impressed to do something rather unusual for that day and time. One of them placed his mouth over Brother Snow’s in an effort to inflate his lungs, alternately blowing in and drawing out air, imitating the natural process of breathing. Taking turns, they persevered until they succeeded in inflating his lungs. A little while later they perceived faint indications of returning life. “A slight wink of the eye, which, until then, had been open and death-like, and a very faint rattle in the throat, were the first symptoms of returning vitality. These grew more and more distinct, until consciousness was fully restored.” With their perseverance and the smile of merciful Providence, all four of the Lord’s servants survived and were able to complete their missions.

Elder Snow went on to become the President of the Church. While serving in that office, he stabilized the Church’s funds by urging the members to pay their tithes and offerings.

Rose bounced on her toes as she peeked out the window. Their friends would be here any minute!
Every year at Christmastime, Rose and her family acted out the Nativity. They always invited people to come over and join them. This time they had invited their neighbors and the missionaries! Rose was excited because their neighbors had a baby to be baby Jesus.
Everything was almost ready. Mom was taking the treats out of the oven. Rose’s little brothers had picked up all their toys. Ellen was getting the costumes. And Rose had even taped a big, yellow star to the wall for decoration.
“Rose,” Mom called from the kitchen. “Can you help Ellen get the costumes ready?”
“OK, Mom!” Rose turned to help her sister, who was carrying an armful of blankets.
“We have blankets, towels, and dress-up clothes from the closet,” Ellen said. “We can even use this basket as a pretend manger.” She handed Rose a big basket. Rose put a soft blanket inside it for the baby.
“Perfect,” said Rose.
Rose’s little brother Jack pulled a gray blanket over his head and made a funny face. “Can I be the donkey?”
Rose laughed. “No, silly! You wanted to be a Wise Man, remember?”
“Oh yeah!” said Jack. He grabbed the toy crown and put it on his head.
Then there was a knock at the door.
“They’re here!” Rose said. “I’ll get it.”
Soon the house was full of happy people. Rose helped everyone get their costumes on. The sister missionaries were the shepherds. Her brothers and sister were the Wise Men. The cute baby was baby Jesus, and his parents were Mary and Joseph.
Rose put on a soft, white hat. She was a sheep.
Finally everyone was dressed and ready to go. Elder and Sister Yancey, a missionary couple from their ward, opened the New Testament to the Nativity story. They read the verses out loud. Everyone acted out their part.
At the end of the story, everyone sang “Silent Night.” Rose felt warm and happy. She knew she was feeling the Holy Ghost. It felt like Jesus was close to her heart.
After the song, Mom played the video “Samuel and the Star.” Ellen said a prayer. Then they brought out the treats. Everyone had fun visiting.
“So, what was your favorite part?” Sister Yancey asked.
“I liked singing the song,” Ellen said. “And playing with baby Jesus.” Ellen bounced the baby on her lap. She had been playing with him ever since the song ended.
“I liked bringing Jesus gifts,” Jack said. He was still wearing the pretend crown.
“What about you, Rose?”
Rose spread her arms out wide. “I liked everything!” she said in a loud voice. “But most of all, I liked having everyone here to celebrate Jesus. Because that’s what Christmas is all about.”

This ward is composed of members of many ages, from a variety of countries, all with varying economic circumstances and Church experience. A number of those with the most Church experience are busy graduate-student couples with demanding schedules and young families.
What I saw was a young mother serving as a visiting teaching mentor to newer converts in the ward. While her husband cared for their baby, she enthusiastically modeled loving watchcare to two African sisters. This watchcare involved teaching these sisters not only how to function in a new country but also how to adapt to their new religion.
Through her example she taught these African sisters how the Lord would have us serve each other. The words of the Apostle Paul tenderly describe what I saw in this visiting teaching mentor’s actions toward these new converts: “We were gentle among you, … being affectionately desirous of you, … willing to have imparted unto you, not the gospel of God only, but also our own souls, because ye were dear unto us.” With each visit, the young mentor brought good cheer, a gentle helping hand, and the visiting teaching message.
In time, together the sisters prepared the visiting teaching message to share in other sisters’ homes. Assessing needs, giving on-the-spot service as they went, they became true Relief Society sisters committed to lifting, comforting, and encouraging one another. I doubt I will ever hear the phrase “hearts knit together in unity and in love” that I won’t think of those three happy, loving women demonstrating through their determined service to others what it means “to grow up unto the Lord.”

Let’s take an imaginary example: You’ve been shooting the school’s most important football game, hoping to get a shot that could lead off the sports section of your yearbook. You want something dramatic, not just the usual running and passing pictures. Long shadows from the bleachers cover the field in patterns of dark, and the team huddles for the final play of the game. The score is tied. The players shift slightly, and suddenly their yellow helmets come ablaze with color from a small patch of sunlight. Everything else is in deep shadow. You center the exposure needle carefully and manage to squeeze off a shot just before the team moves into its scrimmage position. What a shot—the bright yellow helmets set off by the contrast of dark shadows.
You send the film to be processed and cross your fingers. A few days later the slides come back, and you nervously look for that one great shot. There it is! But something’s wrong. The yellow helmets are almost colorless. That great photo just isn’t.

Nick tried to listen to his teacher as she wrote numbers on the whiteboard. But the two boys whispering in front of him kept distracting him.
“Did you see Nick?” a boy whispered. “He’s got big bald spots all over his head!”
“Yeah,” another said. “He looks like my grandpa.”
The boys laughed quietly.
Nick touched his head and rubbed one of his many bald spots. His face got hot from embarrassment. He sank lower in his seat, trying to hide. He wanted to disappear. He hated when classmates talked about his bald spots.
Nick was losing his hair because he had alopecia. That’s a condition that makes people’s hair fall out.
Most days Nick liked school. But on days like today, he couldn’t help feeling sad and embarrassed. After class, he put on his baseball cap and quietly walked through the hallway.
He wished he could call Mom to take him home. But first he’d have to go see the school nurse and tell her he couldn’t stay at school. And telling her that his feelings had been hurt probably wasn’t a good enough reason. Even if she did say he could go home, he knew his mom wouldn’t let him. Alopecia made his hair fall out, but it didn’t make him sick, and it wasn’t contagious.
It did make him sad, though. After dinner that night, Nick felt tears stinging his eyes when he told Mom and Dad what the kids in math class had said.
“I know I shouldn’t listen when they make fun of me,” he said. “But sometimes it really hurts.”
Mom put her arm around his shoulder. “I hope you know we love you no matter what. And so do your Heavenly Parents. Why don’t we say a prayer and ask Heavenly Father what to do?”
“And we can fast about it on Sunday,” Dad added.
The next day, Nick met up with his friend Seth when he got to school. Seth was frowning.
“I heard what those guys said about you yesterday,” Seth told him. “Don’t listen to them. I think you’re cool, with or without hair!”
Nick grinned. “Thanks!”
Seth was Nick’s best friend. They went to church together too. When Nick first found out he had alopecia, he had told Seth. And Seth didn’t treat him any differently.
“My family is going to fast on Sunday to figure out what I should do about my hair,” Nick said. “You can too if you want.”
Seth nodded. “Sure!”
On Sunday, Nick and his family fasted about what Nick should do. After they said a prayer together, Nick got a warm, peaceful feeling.
He had his answer.
“My hair is falling out more than ever,” Nick told his parents. “And I’m tired of trying to hide it with my baseball cap.” He took a deep breath. ”I want to shave my head.”
Mom and Dad smiled at him.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Dad said.
With Dad’s help, Nick shaved his head the next morning. When he saw his bald head in the mirror, his eyes widened. He looked so different! He ran his fingers over his bald head and laughed at how funny it felt.
When he got to school, a few kids gave him funny looks, but most of them liked his new look.
Seth thought it looked awesome. “Your head’s so shiny!”
From that day on, Nick focused on doing his best in school, playing football, and serving as a deacon. Sometimes he still heard some kids talk about his bald head, but he didn’t let it bother him. It didn’t matter what other people said about him. He knew that Heavenly Father, his family, and his friends loved him, bald head and all. And that’s all that truly mattered.

If you’ve ever felt that way, you’d like to meet Anna Ruth Aaron, 15, of the Lubbock, Texas First Ward. She was afraid, too, until she tried missionary work.
“I was afraid to talk to my friends about the Church,” said Anna Ruth. “But I’ve always been very open with the fact that I’m a Mormon. My friends know my views on drinking and smoking. At parties, if a newcomer tried to pressure me into something against my standards, my friends would tell him to stop.
“I always dreamed I could be a missionary and bring one of my friends, or the whole group of them, into the Church.”
Dreams have a way of making fears disappear. At least that’s what Anna Ruth discovered when she found herself talking to a good friend about the Church.
“I’d known Diane Swann a little, but from the first day of the new school year, we became very close friends. We started walking home from school together and spending time together. One day as we were walking home, something told me ‘Ask her … ask her … ask.’
“So I said, ‘Diane, can I ask you something? I’ve never done this before, and I’ll admit I’m scared, but I would like you to meet the missionaries for my church. You could listen to one of the lessons they have, which will explain what my church is like. If you don’t want to I’ll understand, and it won’t affect our friendship at all.’
“Diane replied, ‘Yes, I’ll listen to one lesson, but I want you to know right now, I’m not going to join your church.’”
Anna Ruth arranged for the first lesson, Diane came, and there was a good spirit there. Diane asked her mother if she might continue the lessons and her mother said yes, but she said that Diane would not want to join the Church. Diane continued the lessons, the missionaries challenged her to be baptized, her mother gave permission—and Diane joined the Church.
How did Diane feel about Anna Ruth talking to her about the Church?
“I didn’t feel offended, but I was surprised,” said Diane. “My mother was surprised when I told her I was interested in the Church, because religion wasn’t discussed much in our home. My brother teased me about it, but my mother was very supportive, and came to the baptism. I think it’s a very good idea to talk to friends about the Church, because if Anna Ruth hadn’t done that for me, I wouldn’t be in the Church. Don’t be afraid to ask.”

One day his aunt, a newly baptized Latter-day Saint, introduced his family to the missionaries. Soon the Liaos joined the Church. “We were active for about a year,” Domingos says. “Then my parents stopped going. I kept on for a while; then I started to play cricket on Sundays. But my conscience kept nagging me that I should be in church.”
It was at this time that Domingos’s grandfather, who lived in Melbourne, suffered a stroke. He wasn’t expected to live. Domingos, 16, felt compelled to pray. “I told Heavenly Father if he would give Grandfather a chance, I would devote my life to the Church. But I didn’t just wait for him to recover. When we returned home, I returned to church. I’ve been taught that if you say something, you should do it.”
Grandpa did get better. And by the time he did, Domingos was going to church, not just to keep a promise, but because he truly believed it was the right thing to do.

My brother and I have always been best friends. One day when I was four and Ammon was three, we were at the playland of a restaurant close to our house. I skinned my knees pretty badly. They were still hurting a lot when our family came home, and I started to cry.
Ammon held my hand and prayed, “Dear Heavenly Father, please bless Kyli that her knees won’t hurt. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” I stopped crying right away. Within an hour, my knees had scabbed over. By the next day, they were almost completely healed, and they never bothered me again.
Kylian and Ammon Saylor, ages 5 and 4Warsaw, Indiana

Illustration by Greg Newbold
A couple of months ago, I was talking to a friend about some struggles in my life. She was kind and listened to me, but after I told her everything, she asked me three questions: “Are you reading your scriptures daily?” I said no. “Are you praying daily?” I said no. She told me this was part of my problem and challenged me to read the Book of Mormon with an open heart and to pray about my questions before I read. I accepted her invitation to read and pray every day. Then she asked her third question.
“What do you see when you look in the mirror?”
I didn’t know how to respond. I finally said, “I see a naïve, lost boy.” That’s what I thought I saw, but she said I was wrong.
Every day for the next few weeks, I thought about that question. It bothered me that she said I was wrong. About what? I realized that I could figure it out if I had regular scripture study with meaningful prayer. It took me a while to establish a schedule where I was reading and praying on most days of the week, but I did.
A few weeks later, some thoughts came to me while I was mowing the lawn. They taught me about the real person I see in the mirror:
I see a young man who decided to come to this earth to face the fiercest evils and the darkest nights. I see a son of God, a child of Heavenly Father. I see a disciple of Jesus Christ, who will always help His followers. I see a young man with family and friends who will stand beside him.
I may feel lost and confused sometimes, but I don’t have to live life alone. Satan may try his hardest to succeed, but in the end he will fail. And in the end, I can see myself walking up to Heavenly Father and hearing Him say, “You have served me well, my son. Welcome home.”
When I had these thoughts, I immediately pulled out my phone and recorded what I’d felt, because I thought I’d forget by the time I found a pencil and paper. For the rest of the day, I couldn’t help but smile.
I told my friend what I had found out, and she was happy I had found the answer. I now understand my relationship with Heavenly Father and know that I never have to be alone.

Illustrations by Ben Simonsen
Wally wanted to sit still in sacrament meeting. He did. Really. But it was hard.
He wiggled.
He squirmed.
He bounced.
Mommy put her hand on Wally’s shoulder. “This is Heavenly Father’s house,” she whispered. “We need to be reverent.”
Wally sat still. For a minute. Then he wiggled again. How could he beat the wiggles?
Wally looked at Robby. Robby was his little brother. Robby was two years old.
Robby had the wiggles too. When you are two, the wiggles are even worse.
Wally whispered, “Robby, let’s look at your book.” It was a picture book. It was about Jesus.
Wally opened the book. Robby saw a picture of Jesus. Robby smiled.
“Jesus,” Robby said.
Wally nodded. “Let’s think about Jesus,” he whispered.
Robby was quiet. And Wally’s wiggles went away.

Tim’s foot hurt. His cast felt hot and itchy, and he was tired of just lying on the couch.
“Mom,” Tim called and waited.
“Mom,” he called again, a little louder. She must be upstairs with the baby, he decided. He looked over the stack of movies she had borrowed from the library. He’d already watched them all—twice. He looked out the window. In the backyard, little Heidi climbed up on her plastic slide while David slid down. Sun lit their hair, and he could hear them laughing. “It’s not fair,” Tim grumbled to no one in particular. He wished his foot wouldn’t ache anymore.
He heard a rumble approaching the house, followed by a loud squeal. The school bus. Soon the front door creaked open, and he heard the thud of backpacks and instrument cases hitting the floor. Brian and Eric are home, he told himself. He listened to their footsteps heading toward the kitchen.
“Hey, Tim,” Brian’s voice said.
Tim couldn’t see him over the back of the couch. “Hi,” he answered quietly.
“Feeling any better?” Brian’s head popped into view.
Tim frowned up at him. “No. And I’m bored.”
“Do you want a snack?” Eric called from the kitchen. “There are lots of frozen treats in here.”
“No thanks.”
“I’ll have a grape one,” Brian said.
Tim heard a box snap open and wrappers crunch as Eric fished one out.
“Catch.”
Tim flinched when the frozen treat hurtled over the couch and bashed against his cast. “Ouch!” he yelled.
Brian grabbed the treat.
“Oops, sorry,” Eric called, taking his treat outside.
“So, have you worked on your castle yet?” Brian asked.
Tim shook his head.
“Why not?”
“It’s downstairs.” Tim had crutches, but he wasn’t supposed to use them yet. His bedroom—and everything else downstairs—had been pretty much off-limits since his foot surgery last week.
“Do you want me to get the stuff for you?”
Tim shrugged. The castle was to be made out of tiny plastic blocks of many shapes and colors. Even though the set was brand-new, it would take him hours to find all the pieces he’d need—especially because he wasn’t supposed to even sit up for very long.
“I can help you put it together,” Brian offered. “I don’t have that much homework to do.”
Tim smiled. “Really?”
“Sure. We can build it on this table right by the couch. I’ll hand you the pieces, and you figure out how they fit.”
“OK.”
Brian threw his empty stick into the trash and tromped down the stairs. Tim listened to hear his steps coming back up.
“Here it is.” Brian handed the box to Tim.
“Thanks.” Tim slid his finger between layers of cardboard and opened the box. Inside, the pieces glittered in plastic bags. He handed Brian some colorful pages with pictures and directions.
“Awesome,” Brian said. He moved the box to the table and began sorting blocks. “Here’s one you’ll need for the foundation,” he said, holding it out for Tim.
By the time Dad got home, the castle was almost finished.
“Tim, this looks great!” Dad exclaimed.
“Brian helped a lot,” Tim said.
“Wow, Brian, that was nice of you!” Dad looked at Tim again. “And how’s your foot?”
“Lots better,” Tim said. “I even forgot it hurt.”
Dad patted Brian on the back. “You should be a doctor, Son.”
Brian grinned down at the last few blocks. “We’ll call it the castle cure,” he said.

Christmas for young people today is quite different than Christmas was for me more than sixty years ago. For example, there is a great difference in the way we get Christmas trees. When I was a boy we used to go out onto the sidehills and cut the trees. I remember once my brother and I dragged a Christmas tree off the hill and when we got home there was only one side of it left. We had to stand it up in the corner so the bare side wouldn’t show.
We used to make all of our own decorations. We’d take tissue paper and cut it into strips and paste it together to make chains. And we’d pop corn and then string it to make garlands with which to decorate the tree.
We’d always have a special dinner on Christmas.
My uncle, Gaskill Romney, operated a planing mill and a sash and door factory. He had a lathe on which he would turn out baseball bats for Christmas presents for the boys, and we used to make our own little cabinets for the girls. Our toys were not as sophisticated as they are now.
But Christmas was always a happy time. To us it was the day the Savior was born.

Another member, Miguel Samudio, joined the Church while studying in Buenos Aires. He made the difficult decision to leave his girlfriend behind and serve a mission. “Her parents wouldn’t let her get baptized, and she didn’t want me to go,” he explains. “But I had to. I had found a great treasure.” Six months later he received a photograph of her dressed in white and standing with two missionaries; he realized she had been baptized. When he returned, they were married in the temple. He was called as second counselor in the Jujuy stake presidency less than five years after his mission.

A few weeks ago our youngest son and his wife and family stopped to see us. The first one out of the car was our two-year-old grandson. He came running to me with his arms outstretched, shouting, “Gwampa! Gwampa! Gwampa!”
He hugged my legs, and I looked down at that smiling face and those big, innocent eyes and thought, “What kind of a world awaits him?”
For a moment I had that feeling of anxiety, that fear of the future that so many parents express to us. Everywhere we go fathers and mothers worry about the future of their children in this very troubled world.
But then a feeling of assurance came over me. My fear of the future faded.
That guiding, comforting Spirit, with which we in the Church are so familiar, brought to my remembrance what I already knew. The fear of the future was gone. That bright-eyed, little two-year-old can have a good life—a very good life—and so can his children and his grandchildren, even though they will live in a world where there is much of wickedness.

Early in my service as a member of the Council of the Twelve, I was attending the conference of the Monument Park West Stake in Salt Lake City. My companion for the conference was a member of the General Church Welfare Committee, Paul C. Child. President Child was a student of the scriptures. He had been my stake president during my Aaronic Priesthood years. Now we were together as conference visitors.
When it was his opportunity to participate, President Child took the Doctrine and Covenants and left the pulpit to stand among the priesthood to whom he was directing his message. He turned to section 18 and began to read:
“Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God. …
“And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father” (vs. 10, 15).
President Child then raised his eyes from the scriptures and asked the question of the priesthood brethren: “What is the worth of a human soul?” He avoided calling on a bishop, stake president, or high councilor for a response. Instead, he selected the president of an elders quorum—a brother who had been a bit drowsy and had missed the significance of the question.
The startled man responded: “Brother Child, could you please repeat the question?” The question was repeated: “What is the worth of a human soul?”
I knew President Child’s style. I prayed fervently for that quorum president. He remained silent for what seemed like an eternity and then declared: “Brother Child, the worth of a human soul is its capacity to become as God.”
All present pondered that reply. Brother Child returned to the stand, leaned over to me, and said: “A profound reply; a profound reply!” He proceeded with his message, but I continued to reflect on that inspired response.

A lovely lady who has since passed away visited with me one day and unexpectedly recounted some regrets. She spoke of an incident which had taken place many years earlier and involved a neighboring farmer, once a good friend but with whom she and her husband had disagreed on multiple occasions. One day the farmer asked if he could take a shortcut across her property to reach his own acreage. At this point she paused in her narrative to me and, with a tremor in her voice, said, “Brother Monson, I didn’t let him cross our property then or ever but required him to take the long way around on foot to reach his property. I was wrong, and I regret it. He’s gone now, but oh, I wish I could say to him, ‘I’m so sorry.’ How I wish I had a second chance to be kind.”

As I listened to her, there came to my mind the doleful observation of John Greenleaf Whittier: “Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: ‘It might have been!’” Brothers and sisters, as we treat others with love and kind consideration, we will avoid such regrets.

Imagine being offered an appearance on the hottest prime-time television show in the country. Millions of people will see your face and hear your name. This appearance could catapult you to worldwide fame.
Now imagine turning it down.
For pianist William Joseph, this wasn’t an imaginary test. The show would have given him the opportunity to play his music for his biggest audience yet. Unfortunately, this show also promoted immorality, deceit, and other things William didn’t want his name associated with. What would you do?
“I was totally torn,” says William. “I knew what the right thing to do was, but it was literally a choice in front of me of riches and fame or choosing the right.”
With so much fame coming so quickly, William has had to keep his focus firmly on the gospel to guide his choices. But even in Hollywood, his commitment to choosing the right has gained him respect.
When William decided to turn down the television appearance, he explained his decision to his producer by saying, “‘The things that are on this show make a mockery of everything that I believe.’ That’s all I had to say, and he just said, ‘Then don’t do it.’ And he said, ‘Your morals will serve you well.’”