Gospel Story Finder

When Kevin Brown was 12 years old, a sister missionary challenged him to read the Book of Mormon. So, every morning he would pray, read, and pray again. With each prayer, he asked Heavenly Father if the Book of Mormon was true.
He recalls that one morning while praying, he “didn’t even have to ask the question. The Lord’s answer came in such a profound way.” He felt the Lord tell him: “I know you, and I love you. You are my son.”
Immediately, the Holy Ghost confirmed to him: “This is God’s truth. The Book of Mormon is true. Joseph Smith is a prophet.” This experience changed his life.

In April 1990, Jakub and I hitchhiked to Austria. In Vienna we met two nice women standing on the sidewalk of a busy street. One of them was holding the Book of Mormon in Polish. She told us about Jesus’s visit to the people of ancient America and promised to mail the book to our homes if we gave her our addresses. We also opened our address books and copied addresses of many of our friends. We thought it would be a nice surprise for them to receive a gift.
A few months later the Poland Warsaw Mission was established, and four missionaries arrived in our city. Later, I learned that the large number of “referrals”—our friends’ addresses—played a key role in the decision to open our city for the missionaries. To my surprise a few months later, Jakub told me that two “Mormon” missionaries had visited him and that he had decided to join their church.

One day in fourth grade I took a spelling test. I had studied and felt I knew the words well. When I got my paper back, it was marked 100 percent. But as I read over the words, I found that I had misspelled one. I thought about keeping the good grade, but decided that it wouldn’t be honest. So I told my teacher about my mistake. She looked at me and said, “Well, I’ll give you 100 percent anyway since you’re so honest.” It makes me feel good to know that I can follow the Savior and have eternal life.

Last summer I received a letter from a woman who has emerged from a long period of Church inactivity. She is ever so anxious for her husband, who as yet is not a member of the Church, to share the joy she now feels.
She wrote of a trip which she, her husband, and their three sons made from the family home to Grandmother’s home in Idaho. While driving through Salt Lake City, they were attracted by the message which appeared on a billboard. The message invited them to visit Temple Square. Bob, the nonmember husband, made the suggestion that a visit would be pleasant. The family entered the visitors’ center, and Father took two sons up a ramp that one called “the ramp to heaven.” Mother and three-year-old Tyler were a bit behind the others, they having paused to appreciate the beautiful paintings which adorned the walls. As they walked toward the magnificent sculpture of Thorvaldsen’s Christus, tiny Tyler bolted from his mother and ran to the base of the Christus, while exclaiming, “It’s Jesus! It’s Jesus!” As Mother attempted to restrain her son, Tyler looked back toward her and his father and said, “Don’t worry. He likes children.”
After departing the center and again making their way along the freeway toward Grandmother’s, Tyler moved to the front seat next to his father. Dad asked him what he liked best about their adventure on Temple Square. Tyler smiled up at him and said, “Jesus.”
“How do you know that Jesus likes you, Tyler?”
Tyler, with a most serious expression on his face, looked up at his father’s eyes and answered, “Dad, didn’t you see his face?” Nothing else needed to be said.
As I read this account, I thought of the statement from the book of Isaiah: “And a little child shall lead them” (Isa. 11:6).

After listening to the missionaries, Mother and I were soon baptized. But the gospel was still very puzzling to my father, and he was not baptized. However, in the months to come, Father began to notice a change in Mother. One day he said to her, “How come you’re so kind and happy and so good to me lately?”
Mother answered, “Because I have the gospel. If you want that feeling you can have it too.” And several months after that my father was also baptized.

Another new member is Rocío Flores Rojas, 15. “Elder and Sister de la Cruz taught and baptized my mother,” she says. “At first I didn’t want to be baptized. But they kept coming and talking to me about the word of God. And they treated me so well—like they do all the people. I came to know that their message was true and was baptized last Sunday. More than anything, we would like them to stay with us forever. But when they have completed their mission, they have a right to return to their family.”

But there were times when she really didn’t feel that self-worth. In fact, “I’ll tell you of a real heartbreak I had,” she said, reflecting on her youth. During her first year at college two of her good friends belonged to a social unit. Sister Asay felt like “just a little kid from a little country town,” but her friends assured her that she would be included in their group. She was invited to all the preliminary parties prior to the evening of the final selection for membership in the social unit. That night her friends confidently told her, “Wait for us, and we’ll come for you.”
“That experience is one I’ll never forget,” she said. She waited and waited and waited, and no one came. “I was heartbroken. It seemed as though I was the only one who didn’t make it. My sister, my sister-in-law, and everyone except me, it seemed, was in the social unit.”
How did she handle that situation? “All I can remember,” she said, “was that I went to the Lord and he took away the hurt, and then it didn’t matter so much anymore. I turned to my music and service in the Church. I needed to do the Lord’s work first. I decided that maybe being a big wheel on campus wasn’t that important after all. Looking back, it doesn’t seem so important to me now, but the tests in life come at the times when these things are important to us.”

Need an idea for a Super Saturday activity? How about trying what the seminary students in the Thatcher Arizona Stake did? They had notified stake members that they would be coming. Then they spent the morning collecting donations of food and clothing for the homeless and needy.
All in all, the 300 young people who participated collected, sorted, and delivered several tons of usable clothing and bedding, and a ton and a half of food—enough to provide 4,000 meals.
“It made us feel so good inside to know we were doing something to help so many people!” said one of the participants. “It was really neat to see such well-organized chaos,” added another.

The earliest instance of which I have recollection of spiritual feelings was when I was about five years of age, a very small boy. I was crying from the pain of an earache. There were no wonder drugs at the time. That was 85 years ago. My mother prepared a bag of table salt and put it on the stove to warm. My father softly put his hands upon my head and gave me a blessing, rebuking the pain and the illness by authority of the holy priesthood and in the name of Jesus Christ. He then took me tenderly in his arms and placed the bag of warm salt at my ear. The pain subsided and left. I fell asleep in my father’s secure embrace. As I was falling asleep, the words of his administration floated through my mind. That is the earliest remembrance I have of the exercise of the authority of the priesthood in the name of the Lord.

I spoke in a meeting down in Quitman, Georgia, when I was president of the mission down there, and I quoted the statement that I have referred to from the chart prepared in this book, and at the close of the meeting I stood at the door to greet the people as they left. A man came up and introduced himself to me as a Baptist minister, and I said: “Did I misquote you here tonight?”

“No, Mr. Richards,” he said. “It is just like you say. We don’t all believe all the things our churches teach.”

I said, “You don’t believe them either. Why don’t you go back and teach your people the truth? They will take it from you, and they are not ready to take it from the Mormon elders yet.”

He said, “I will see you again.”

The next time I went there, about four months later, as I walked up to that little church, there stood that Baptist minister. As we shook hands I said, “I would certainly be interested to know what you thought of my last sermon here.” He said, “Mr. Richards, I have been thinking about it ever since. I believe every word you said, only I would like to have heard the rest of it.” You know we never get talked out when we start talking about these beautiful principles that the Lord has given us through the restoration of the gospel, through the bringing forth of this marvelous work and a wonder.

At the end of a term at my school in Lagos, Nigeria, I was confident that I would receive good marks because I had been a good student. But my economics teacher called me into the staff room and told me I had scored below average. I couldn’t believe it. My answer to him was, “That’s not true.”
He showed me where he had recorded my marks. I saw he had written a wrong mark for me, and I explained that it was not correct. He told me the only thing that could prove him wrong would be for me to bring in my test sheet by 9:00 the next morning.
After finishing my chores the following morning, I started looking for the test sheet. First I searched for the book I knew I had put it in, but I couldn’t find it. Then I started searching for the sheet in all my other books. I still couldn’t locate it. Next I searched my wardrobe where I kept my schoolbooks and clothes—but it wasn’t there. I went back to the bookshelf and searched again. At 8:00 a.m. I knew that if I didn’t show the missing test sheet to my teacher in one hour, he would not listen to me anymore. Tears filled my eyes as I wondered where the test sheet could be. For a moment I gave up hope of ever finding it.
Then the thought struck me that I should pray. Immediately I closed my eyes and knelt in front of the bookshelf. As I prayed I had a calm assurance the test sheet wasn’t lost at all. When I opened my eyes, to my amazement I saw the book in which I kept the sheet right on top of the bookshelf. Inside was the sheet I had been searching for. At that moment, my sorrow vanished and my eyes filled with joyful tears.
At school I thought about how much Heavenly Father loves me and how grateful I was that He had answered my prayer so quickly. The thing I could not find in an hour-long search took me only a second to find when I called on the Lord.
That day, a simple prayer helped me recognize that Heavenly Father loves me and hears my voice when I call on Him. I learned that with God all things are possible (see Luke 2:37). He wants us, His children, to call on His name whenever we are in need, and He will give answers to our prayers.

Every day that Cheya Wheeler’s friend picks her up for school, the same thing happens. They drive by a stately red brick building, one tower topped by a golden figure, and Cheya’s friend starts singing, “I Love to See the Temple.” Cheya usually joins her. “It brings a good spirit,” she says.
Cheya and her friend live in Vernal, Utah. The temple, created from the old tabernacle, has brought a whole new spirit into their valley. The Vernal Temple has stood as a building for more than 90 years, but during its first 90 years, it served as a tabernacle, a meetinghouse for a local ward and stake, a lecture hall, a place for musical recitals, a gathering place for the community. This great old building eventually fell into disuse and was closed. Most teenagers in Vernal had never actually been inside the tabernacle.
“When they first announced that we were going to have a temple at stake conference,” says Jeff Ross, 15, “I was there. It took forever for the meeting to go on. Everyone was turning and talking to each other. It was great.”
The Vernal Tabernacle had always been a prominent landmark and favorite spot in the town. Growing up, most young people in the area have ridden their bikes around the block containing the building and had picnics on the tabernacle lawn. It was a great old building, but it was no longer feasible to hold church functions there any more. What would become of it?
In 1907, after seven and a half years of work, the Vernal Tabernacle was completed and ready for dedication. A little seven-year-old named Porter Merrell was there, ready to attend the dedication with his parents. His father had worked as a carpenter on the tabernacle.
Approaching his 98th birthday, Brother Merrell remembers that day. “When it came time for the dedication, there were too many people to fit inside. They rounded up all of us kids about the ages from seven to ten and took us down to the east of the tabernacle. Before I left, I looked down from the balcony. All the ladies wore hats. They decorated their hats, and looking down it looked just like a flower garden.”
President Joseph F. Smith had made the long journey from Salt Lake City to dedicate the tabernacle. Brother Merrell was in the group of children chosen to greet the prophet as he arrived in their city. President Smith also visited every ward in the Uintah Stake. Porter was seated with the other children on the little chairs in front of the prophet. He still remembers what the prophet with the flowing snow-white beard said.
“He told us,” says Brother Merrell, “that he wanted us all to remember. The Spirit of the Lord was going to be poured out upon the world. There would be more development and more progress in the world during the next 30 to 40 years than there had been in the history of the world. He looked at us and said, ‘I want you little fellers to remember that and see if there won’t start to be progress.’”
Once again, 90 years later, Brother Merrell attended a dedication in the Vernal Tabernacle, only this time it was a temple, the house of the Lord.
It has always been difficult traveling in the area that is now the temple district of the Vernal Utah Temple. It includes parts of Utah, Wyoming, and Colorado. It is a country where the weather is unpredictable and the winters can be downright dangerous. Several youth choirs that were planning to sing for the Vernal Temple open house had to cancel at the last minute because winter storms had closed roads, preventing them from traveling.
One group, the Smart family choir, was asked to sing an additional hour in the cold morning hours of the temple open house because another choir had been prevented by the weather from making the trip.
The Smart family chose to hold a family reunion and form a family choir to coincide with the open house of the Vernal Temple. They have a particularly warm feeling about the tabernacle building itself. Their relative William H. Smart was the stake president of the Uintah Stake when the tabernacle was dedicated. For the teenagers attending the reunion, the trip to Vernal meant learning a little more about their heritage and about temples.
“There’s always a special feeling in the temple,” says Michelle Maddocks, 20, from the Salt Lake Grant 12th Ward, and a member of the Smart family choir. “You feel the Spirit there.”
Another Smart descendant, Hales Swift, 15, from the Academy Ward of the Colorado Springs North Stake, was looking forward to going through the Vernal Temple after the family choir’s performance. For Hales, his knowledge about the truthfulness of the Church came from his family. “Prayer is a peaceful time for me. I have always accepted the gospel as being true, partially because I was brought up in it, and also because it makes sense.” In a serious moment, Hales tries to explain what the Spirit of the Lord feels like. “It’s something hard to put your finger on. It’s overpowering. It testifies of the truthfulness of the gospel. It’s sort of like when you hear something that is really truly good. It’s the same sort of feeling.”
Also singing in the family choir, JoAnnie Everett, 14, from the Grove Creek Fifth Ward in Pleasant Grove, Utah, was looking forward to going inside the Vernal Temple. She has been to several temples, including the Mount Timpanogos Temple near her home. She had the opportunity to go when her brothers and sisters were sealed to their family after their adoption. “The temple is special before it is dedicated, but it has an even better feeling after.”
The Young Men and Young Women of the Vernal Third Ward have a unique outlook on the new temple. In Sunday School class, they just have to glance out the window to see the temple. They can’t be rowdy in the parking lot after Mutual, because it somehow doesn’t feel appropriate when it’s right next to the temple.
“I live right across the street. The angel Moroni looks down on my house,” says Curtis Ogden, 17. “It’s just a reminder every day when I walk outside and I see the temple. It makes my day a lot better.”
Emily Malouf, 15, says, “I think with the temple being next door to our church house, it’s brought a level of reverence to our ward. When you drive past it every day, you have to strive for the goals you know are right so that one day you can get married there.”
“When I went through the open house of the temple, something occurred to me,” says Jeff Ross, 15. “It’s perfect. It sets the standard. It’s kind of a wake-up call to me that we need to strive to make our bodies, our minds, and our homes like the temple, perfect like that. It sets the standard for everything else in our lives.”
These young people watched the transformation take place. An old, dilapidated tabernacle was turned into something heavenly—a temple. They heard the stories of the miracles that took place during the construction. They saw the dedication of those who worked on the project. They noticed as their friends and neighbors started reconstructing their lives to be worthy to enter the temple.
“The building was in bad shape,” says Leslie Richards, 16. “It’s the same kind of thing with our lives. If you get off track and wicked, it takes a lot of work and time. No matter how long it takes, you can still come back to the temple.”
The Vernal Temple brought a spirit of change. “A lot of that is taking place in this valley,” says Sam Malouf, 17. “There are a lot of people who have changed so they can attend the temple. I’ve seen a lot of kids our age quit drinking, quit doing a lot of things so they can be worthy to attend the temple.”
For most of the young people in this ward, the most impressive and memorable moment of the temple open house was when they entered the celestial room and saw the welcoming portrait of Christ. “It took my breath away,” says Cory Hunter, 17. “It was just like, this is where it is. This is where it happens. He’s here. It was amazing.”
The Vernal Temple is the 51st temple in operation. It is also the first temple ever made from a building originally built for a different purpose. But somehow it seems appropriate that it should be put to use serving the Lord again. The Vernal Temple quite literally stands as a monument to change. Just as a decaying building can be rebuilt, we each can rid ourselves of the rubble of sin in our lives and change, change into something worthy of heaven.
Restoration of the Vernal Temple went carefully, brick by brick. However, some of the native brick was damaged and needed to be replaced. What’s more, additions to the building itself needed to match. A long-time Vernal resident had a pioneer home built of the same brick as the tabernacle. Though not a member of the Church himself, he graciously agreed to donate it to the temple. So two years before the temple was completed, youth groups from all the wards in the four stakes surrounding Vernal spent service time dismantling the house and cleaning the brick. Each small effort toward the restoration gave joy and satisfaction to those who helped.

What would you do in the following situations?
It’s Christmas eve, but instead of singing carols and reading the Christmas story from the Bible, you’re huddled in an upstairs room while armed men search the lower portion of the house for goods they need. As the men leave, one of them shoots his gun toward the upstairs room where you are hiding.
A rebel group is on its way to the town where you live. It quickly becomes clear that your life and the lives of all your friends and family are in danger. Quickly you dress in warm clothes and shoes. With a small blanket strapped to your back, you and your family wait breathlessly for instructions on what to do next.
A nonmember friend reads some literature she was given at her church. At school she confronts you by saying, “I’m afraid that if you keep going to your church, you’re going to go to hell.” She says some other things that make you feel uneasy about your beliefs and about your friendship with her. What she thinks about the Church will depend a great deal on what you say to answer her questions.
Obviously the first two situations are somewhat different from the last. But is the last scenario any less perilous?
“I think that today our challenges are more spiritual than physical,” says Candace Wagner, a Laurel from Dublan, Mexico. “We have to face difficult temptations and problems our ancestors never dreamed of.”
Candace’s ancestors were among the first to join the Church. Her forebearers crossed the plains to Utah and then immigrated to Mexico. Many of them faced persecution for their beliefs. She also knows something about what it feels like to be on the defensive about the Church. She was the one being confronted by a nonmember friend at her school in McAllen, Texas, where her family lived until recently.
“A friend of mine had read some things about Joseph Smith that weren’t very favorable,” says Candace. “She came to me and asked me about them. My mom and I looked up the scriptures they had quoted in the article to see what they really said.”
After much study and prayer, Candace had her answer. She knew for herself that the Church was true. She was ready to speak calmly to her friend about the gospel.
“Opposition can make you stronger,” she says. “But so can this environment.”
When Candace refers to “this environment,” she is referring to the “Mormon Colonies” in Mexico where she now lives with her family. The colonies were established in the late 1800s by Latter-day Saint settlers from Utah, and they have been home to Candace’s friends and various family members almost continuously since that time.
The LDS community is well known in the area, and the youth are busy from morning to night with school, seminary, and Church programs. Both colony towns, Juarez and Dublan, are quiet and peaceful most of the time. Many of the temptations and challenges youth face in other places simply don’t exist here.
“It’s fun not to have to worry about things like peer pressure, since there’s not as much of that here,” says Brandon Hatch, a priest from Dublan. “It’s a lot easier to do what’s right because most of your friends are doing it too.”
And even though living in a small community can sometimes make you feel that you don’t have enough privacy, most of the youth agree that it’s nice to live in a place where everyone is concerned enough about you to want you to do the right things. It really is an ideal place to live the gospel.
But it hasn’t always been that way.
During the Mexican Revolution, it was Candace’s great-great-uncle, Anson Bowen Call, who hid in that upstairs room while Mexican revolutionaries searched the house. When they didn’t find all they wanted, one shot his gun in the direction of the room in anger and frustration.
“One of the guards shot into the room where we were,” wrote Anson, who was 15 years old at the time, in his journal. “A piece of flying glass cut my head over my right eyebrow. When I saw the blood running down over my eye, I thought I had been shot and felt the back of my head to feel the hole where the bullet had come out. But there was none, much to my relief. … It is a Christmas Eve I won’t ever forget.”

One of the things he had done to help pay his way through university was tutor younger students. Among them was Maria Victoria Chiapparino, who came under his tutelage as a fourteen-year-old. Elder Abrea’s mother was instrumental in teaching Maria the gospel, and Angel, as an eighteen-year-old priest, baptized her.

But that was not the end of the story. He was attracted by her beauty and maturity. Their acquaintance blossomed into romance, and they were married in 1957. Elder Abrea was then twenty-three, and his bride was eighteen. (Their marriage was solemnized in the Salt Lake Temple in 1966.)

“She has been a tremendous help,” Elder Abrea says of his wife. “More than that, she has been an inspiration.”

I grew up in an active, supportive family but never really believed in the things I was taught. It all just felt like something I had to check off my to-do list, like school or work.
I tried reading the scriptures and praying, but I never really
had a personal witness.
Early in my teenage years I made some bad choices and started to feel frustrated with the way my life was going. When I turned to God, I felt like He was silent. I figured if there really were a God in heaven, He probably had more important things to do than worry about me.
One evening, I went to pick up my little sister from her friend’s house. I texted her, but she didn’t come out right away. Slightly annoyed, I entertained myself by looking around outside while I was waiting. Suddenly, a duck acting strangely caught my attention. It was making weird noises and pacing all around, so I went to investigate. The duck was flapping its wings over a large metal grate in the road, and when I looked through the grate, I saw 13 ducklings stuck in the mucky water. I promptly lifted the grate out of the way and began scooping baby ducks out of the smelly drain one by one.
With 12 out of 13 ducklings out of the sewer, I reached down for the last one, but when I went to pick him up, he bit me! I pulled my hand back and dropped him back into the water—this little guy was not having it. He had seen me grab his brothers and sisters and was determined to avoid me.
I watched as this last little duck swam into a small tunnel, far enough away that I couldn’t reach him. Exasperated, I turned to leave, but glanced back at the mother duck and all the ducklings, waiting patiently for their little brother under a small tree. Concern hit me; I didn’t want him to be separated from his family.
It was at that moment I noticed a manhole about 10 feet away in the middle of the street. “There’s no way he could have swum that far,” I thought. Expecting nothing, I lifted the grate out of the way and, to my surprise, saw the duckling directly beneath me. But it was much deeper than I could reach. Even when I tried using a tree branch, it was just too far away.
A young man happened to be driving by right at that moment, and he noticed me rummaging around the sewers. He looked concerned and asked if I was OK. I explained the situation, and he agreed to hold my feet as I went headfirst into the manhole.
Reaching for the last duckling, I thought to myself how ridiculous this whole situation was. Here I am going out of my way to save this baby duck, and he stubbornly and ignorantly bites me and swims away. How could this creature be so blind to the literal saving hand that was reaching out to him?
Then, headfirst in a stinky manhole, it all hit me. I was just like that baby duck, and Heavenly Father, through His Son, Jesus Christ, was doing everything He could to save me! Finally, the duckling let me pick him up, and we managed to get both me and the duck safely out of the manhole.
My emotions whirred as I thought about all of the things Heavenly Father had done for me. He had blessed my life and my family; He had sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to perform an infinite Atonement so that I could return to Him; and He had arranged this little experience to help me understand His love and plan for me, in just the way I needed it. Heavenly Father had answered my prayers in a personal way, and at a time when I was ready for the answer. And in that moment, I knew He loved me.

My wife’s grandfather James B. Keysor has always impressed me with his own mighty change of heart. Born of faithful Latter-day Saint pioneer ancestors in the Salt Lake Valley in 1906, he lost his mother at a young age and struggled throughout his youth. His teenage and young adult years were spent away from the Church, during which time he acquired a number of bad habits. Nevertheless, he met and married a faithful woman, and together they raised five children.

In 1943, following the difficult years of the Great Depression and during World War II, Bud, as he was called by friends and family, left Utah and moved to Los Angeles, California, to look for employment. During this time away from home, he lived with his sister and her husband, who was serving as the bishop of their ward.

With the love and influence of his sister and brother-in-law, he started to revive his interest in the Church and began to read the Book of Mormon each night before going to sleep.

One night, while he was reading in Alma chapter 34, his heart was touched as he read the following words:
“Yea, I would that ye would come forth and harden not your hearts any longer. …
“For behold, this life is the time for men to prepare to meet God; yea, behold the day of this life is the day for men to perform their labors.”

While he was reading these verses, a powerful feeling came over him and he knew that he had to change, to repent, and he knew what he must do. He got up from his bed and knelt down and began to pray, pleading with the Lord to forgive him and to give him the strength he needed to make changes in his life. His prayer was answered, and from that time forward, he never looked back. Bud went on to serve in the Church and remained a faithful, committed Latter-day Saint to the end of his life. He was changed in every way. His mind, his heart, his actions, his very being were changed.

The first time I heard about the restriction on black men holding the priesthood, I was on my mission. I was baptized in 1984, after the restriction had already ended. Two years later I was called to serve in the South Africa Johannesburg Mission.
While assigned to Bulawayo, Zimbabwe, my companion, Elder Francis Jack, and I visited a less-active sister. Her husband was a theological professor from another church. He asked us why the priesthood had been withheld from men of black African descent. He said many things that bothered me—things I had never heard before. When I walked out of that room, I felt very low and very discouraged.
Elder Jack and I rode our bikes back to our apartment without speaking. When we got there, he looked at me and said, “Elder Dube, what is wrong with you? You seem very disturbed.”
“Didn’t you hear what he said?” I responded. “How could this happen?”
“Elder, do you believe that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appeared to the boy Joseph?”
“Yes,” I said. “But what does that have to do with this?”
“It has everything to do with it,” Elder Jack replied. “We believe in revelation, don’t we?”
I thought about his words and what the professor had said. That night I woke up in the middle of the night. I felt happy and at peace.
The answer to every gospel question ties back to what happened in 1820. Knowing that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appeared to Joseph Smith means that he was a prophet and that this is the Lord’s Church. If Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appeared to the boy Joseph, then all gospel principles and questions fall into place. This is a church of revelation, and the Lord reveals certain processes at certain times to His servants, the prophets, and that is what brought peace to me.
I started jumping up and down and woke my companion shouting, “Yes, yes! You are right, Elder Jack! Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appeared to the boy Joseph! This is the Lord’s Church!”

One evening, I was walking to my house. It was only a few blocks away from where I had met up with some friends earlier, but now it was completely dark. I could barely see where I was walking.
I noticed that three young men were following me. I began walking faster to distance myself from them, but they kept following me. I felt a heavy feeling inside me. Then a clear thought came to me: run! I began running up the hill. The hill was really steep, but I felt a strength that wasn’t mine. It was beyond my own.
Now the young men were running too and catching up. I wasn’t sure what to do next. Again, a clear thought came to my mind that told me to go down a narrow passageway. When I did, much to my surprise, I saw a police officer. Exhausted from running all those blocks and almost out of breath, I asked him for help. When the young men saw me talking to the police officer, they stopped chasing me and eventually walked away. To make sure I was safe, the police officer walked me home.
That night I kept thinking about the promptings I had received. I felt at peace knowing that Heavenly Father had helped me. I said a prayer thanking Him for His guidance. I know that if we obey the voice of the Spirit, we will be safe.
Martín S., Puerto Madryn, Argentina

Monday had finally arrived and Janet was excited. At last it was time for her first day of school in the city.
Janet sat up in bed and stretched. Then she started to unbutton her pajamas.
“Mother! Come quick!” she called.
Mother came running with the juice pitcher still in her hand.
“What are these red spots all over me?” Janet asked.
“You have the measles,” Mother said softly.
“Measles!” Janet echoed. “But I have to go to school!”
“I’m sorry,” Mother said as she tucked Janet back into bed. “You’ll have to wait at least a week to go to school. Now if you’ll lie still, I’ll bring your breakfast to you on a tray.”
Janet lay back on the pillow trying not to cry. “I wish we’d never moved to this new place,” she said to herself. “I’ll never have any friends now.”
“Are you itchy and uncomfortable?” Mother asked when she returned with Janet’s breakfast tray.
“No, it’s just—” A tear rolled down Janet’s cheek. She tried to brush it away, but another soon took its place. “Oh, Mother,” she cried, “I miss my friends so much! How will I ever make new friends when I can’t even go to school?”
Mother put her arm around Janet. “Remember what I told you a long time ago,” she answered. “The only way to have a friend is to be one.”
Janet looked up and asked, “How can I be a friend when there’s no one around?”
“Just keep your eyes open,” said Mother. “You never know when you’ll have the chance to be a friend.”
Janet spent a long lonely day in bed. The next morning she felt better, but the red spots still covered her chest, face, and arms.
After breakfast Mother told her she could put on her robe and sit by the window for a little change.
It seemed strange to look out and see only the wall of another apartment house instead of a beautiful backyard.
Suddenly there was a movement at the window directly across from her. Janet watched as a girl about her age settled herself in front of the window and began to read.
Janet waved to get her attention, but the girl did not see her. Janet had an idea. She took a large sheet of paper and wrote HI on it in large letters. Then she taped the paper to the window and waited impatiently to see what might happen.
A short time later the girl across the way stopped reading and glanced out the window.
In a few minutes she held up a large piece of paper with HI written on it. Under the paper stood a girl with a big smile on her face.
The girls waved at each other. Quickly Janet made another sign. My name is Janet, she wrote. I have measles. Under the words she drew a funny picture of a girl with red spots all over.
The other girl giggled at Janet’s sign. Then she disappeared for a few minutes. Soon she returned with a sign.
I’m Kelly, Janet read. I have a cold. Below the words she had drawn a face with a funny big red nose.
The girls exchanged several more messages. Then Janet asked Kelly for her phone number.
“Look, Mother, no more measles,” Janet said the next Monday morning. “Today I can start school!”
“You really sound happy about that,” Mother replied.
“I am!” Janet said. “I’ll be in the same class as Kelly. She’s going to introduce me to all her friends.” Then she added, “You were right—the only way to have a friend is to be one, and making friends in a big city isn’t any different than it is anywhere else.”

I am from a tiny town in Georgia. As you might guess, there are very few members of the Church here. In my school, there are five.
I was in seventh grade when my trouble began. All my friends were starting to experiment with alcohol and cigarettes. I was popular back then, so I felt it was my “obligation” to try them. Luckily, I only did it once. I have, however, regretted those spontaneous, thoughtless mistakes every day since. I have also had trials with morality.
This was long ago and my rebellious days are over, but I cannot express the regret I have for those mistakes.
The Atonement has taken on a new meaning in my life. I am now the brunt of many Mormon jokes, but as John 15:19 says, “Ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you.”
I have learned to not settle for instant gratification. Many times these mistakes can scar you forever. If only I had thought about that back then.
I will be eternally indebted to my Savior for His endless mercy and love toward me. I am so grateful to be a member of the Church. It has brought me eternal happiness and joy. I look around the halls at my school at all the nonmembers who don’t know what I know, and I feel my testimony grow when I realize who I am—a daughter of God—and where I am going.