Gospel Story Finder

One morning at school, my class was on its way to music class. Some kids from another class were sitting against the wall waiting for their teacher. These kids were in an important class. It was a class for students with disabilities.
As I got closer to them, I noticed that they were trying to give the kids in my class high fives. But no one in my class would high-five them because they looked a little different.
But as I passed them, I gave them all high fives. When I looked behind me, I noticed that other kids in my class were high-fiving them too. That made me feel good.

As a young bishop, I learned of forgiveness when my stake president, Bruce M. Cook, shared the following story. He explained:
“During the late 1970s, some associates and I started a business. Although we did nothing illegal, some poor decisions, combined with the challenging economic times, resulted in our failure.
“Some investors filed a lawsuit to recover their losses. Their attorney happened to be a counselor in my family’s bishopric. It was very difficult to sustain the man who seemed to be seeking to destroy me. I developed some real animosity toward him and considered him my enemy. After five years of legal battles, we lost everything we owned, including our home.
“In 2002, my wife and I learned that the stake presidency in which I served as a counselor was being reorganized. As we traveled on a short vacation prior to the release, she asked me whom I would choose as my counselors if I were called as the new stake president. I did not want to speak about it, but she persisted. Eventually, one name came to my mind. She then mentioned the name of the attorney we considered to have been at the center of our difficulties 20 years earlier. As she spoke, the Spirit confirmed that he should be the other counselor. Could I forgive the man?
“When Elder David E. Sorensen extended to me the call to serve as stake president, he gave me an hour to select counselors. Through tears, I indicated that the Lord had already provided that revelation. As I spoke the name of the man I had considered my enemy, the anger, animosity, and hate I had harbored disappeared. In that moment, I learned of the peace that comes with forgiveness through the Atonement of Christ.”
In other words, my stake president did “frankly forgive” him, like Nephi of old. I knew President Cook and his counselor as two righteous priesthood leaders who loved one another. I determined to be like them.

Spring was on its way. Flowers pushed their way through the thin layer of snow on the ground. Lyndsey’s mom hung a yellow berry wreath on the front door.
One day, Lyndsey came into the kitchen where Mom was cleaning. “Mom, what are those scratching sounds?” Lyndsey asked.
“I don’t hear anything,” Mom said. “Where do you hear them?”
“They’re coming from the front door,” Lyndsey said.
“It’s probably just the wind blowing our wreath against the door,” Mom said.
Over the next few days, mysterious noises kept coming from the front door. Lyndsey’s sister, Sarah, noticed a couple of robins flying back and forth from the front porch carrying twigs and bits of paper. Lyndsey’s brother, Westley, noticed the birds chirping loudly at him whenever he played basketball in the driveway.
A couple of weeks later, the weather outside grew warmer. Daffodils nodded their golden heads. The strange noises stopped. Everyone forgot about the mystery.
Mom wanted to replace the berry wreath on the front door with an Easter decoration. She lifted the wreath off the door and carried it inside. Lyndsey was coloring at the table. Mom started to lay the wreath on the table when she suddenly stopped moving.
“What’s the matter?” Lyndsey asked.
Mom gently put the wreath on the floor and leaned it against the wall. “Lyndsey, there is a bird nest on top of the wreath,” she said.
Lyndsey hopped out of her chair to look. As she stepped toward the wreath, she saw something at her feet. On the floor lay three tiny blue eggs. But there was still one egg that hadn’t fallen out of the nest. Mom put on her cleaning gloves. She carefully picked up the three eggs and put them back into the nest with the fourth. Then she hung the wreath back on the front door.
Over the next few days, Lyndsey, Sarah, and Westley peeked into the nest. They noticed that there were only three eggs. When they asked what had happened to the fourth egg, Mom said she would explain during family home evening that night.
After dinner, the family gathered in the living room. They were going to have a lesson about Easter. Dad explained that Jesus Christ died so we might live again with Him and Heavenly Father someday. Heavenly Father loves all of us, including all of the creatures on the earth. He even notices when a little bird falls from its nest.
Dad asked Sarah to read Matthew 10:29–31: “Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.”
Mom explained that when the eggs fell out of the nest, one of them had broken and the bird was not able to survive. But the other three eggs were fine.
“If Heavenly Father loves that little bird that died, imagine how much He must have loved us to send His Only Begotten Son, Jesus Christ,” Mom said. “He sacrificed His perfect Son so we could live with Him again someday.”
Lyndsey, Sarah, and Westley watched the birds hatch and grow strong. The mother and father robins helped their babies learn to fly. Finally, they left the nest. But the little robin family stayed in their yard all summer, singing happily to Lyndsey’s family.

When I was serving in a stake presidency, a man bragged to me about the way he had managed to preserve his goal of perfect attendance at our stake leadership meetings. He was required to report for his shift work at the time of one of our stake meetings. When the employer denied his request for permission to attend this church meeting, he told me with pride that he “called in sick” so he could come anyway. I kept an eye on that man after that. I wondered if he would steal money in order to pay his tithing. You may think that an extreme example, but it illustrates the point I wish to make. We cannot be so concerned about our goals that we overlook the necessity of using righteous methods to attain them.

This story struck me because it was in stark contrast to what I gained from my experience as a young college student. As I listened to Elder Gong tell this story, I reflected on my college years, with some regret.
I was an excellent high school student—straight A’s, valedictorian, with great test scores. I was involved in leadership and service, and I really had that high school thing figured out. Despite that success, my first semesters at BYU were a struggle. I was focused just on getting good grades, but that didn’t seem to be enough, and things did not turn out the way I had hoped.
I didn’t have the right skills, habits, or motivation to do well. When I did poorly on an exam or assignment, I felt discouraged. I felt like all was lost, and my chance of getting an “A” was gone. Once that happened, I wouldn’t do too much more work in the course because it was a lost cause.
At one point, I did poorly on the first exam in my organic chemistry class and then gave up. I received a “D” grade for the semester. Sadly, I also felt motivated at times to do my work in ways that fulfilled the requirements but didn’t result in any learning whatsoever. Unsurprisingly, the result was that I learned and remembered very little from my schooling even when I did ok in a course.
Unlike Elder Gong, who felt blessed and grateful for the knowledge he obtained in his undergraduate courses, I felt regret when my future experiences took me to the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam, the Louvre in Paris, and other important cultural and historical sites around the world. Due to my own shortcomings and lack of effort, I was not equipped with the knowledge to appreciate them.
Later, in my time as an undergraduate and as a young graduate student, I began to realize that I had to master the content so I could use it for my career. I realized I didn’t need grades, I needed knowledge. Slowly I progressed to the point that I began to understand that the principle of obtaining knowledge was far more important than the “rules” associated with getting good grades.
Learning and practicing the principle of obtaining knowledge changed my life.
When I learned with the principle of obtaining knowledge as my motivation, my approach was different. I understood the value of every course. I wasn’t as discouraged when I performed subpar on something. I just kept trying to master the content and obtain knowledge. I enjoyed school immensely, and I felt an increase in my capacity and confidence with each passing semester. And it turns out when you master the content for a class and make it your own knowledge, exams go a lot better. I quickly became a straight “A” student!

Likewise, trusted family members, leaders, and friends can be helpful in our efforts to change. When I was eight years old, my older brother, Lee, and I would spend time with our friends playing in the branches of a neighborhood tree. We loved being together in the fellowship of our friends in the shade of that tree. One day, Lee fell out of the tree and broke his arm. Having a broken arm made it hard for him to climb the tree by himself. But life in the tree just wasn’t the same without him there. So some of us steadied him from behind while others pulled on his good arm, and without too much effort, Lee was back in the tree. His arm was still broken, but he was with us again enjoying our friendship as he healed.

Elder Mark Macklind watched his new companion jog ahead and shook his own head in awe. He pedaled his bike to parallel Elder Hilversum and asked, “Do you run like this every day?”
“Yup,” Elder Hilversum replied, puffing between words. “Every day, same time, same route. You can join me tomorrow if you’d like.”
“Yeah, you already said that.” Mark shifted gears to accommodate the slower pace. “But I’d rather hang by my toes overnight. Just give me a cookie, and I’ll wear the sofa out.”
“Oh, come on, elder,” the runner pleaded, jumping off the curb to cross the street. “You’ve got to admit that it’s good for you.”
“So is prune juice. I can hardly stand to watch you, let alone join you.” He pedaled ahead a few yards, scanning the road.
“Where are we going?” Mark asked flatly, uncomfortably perplexed. Transfers had just occurred that day, bringing the reluctant Elder Macklind to a new area with which he was wholly unfamiliar, and pairing his antiathletic body with jog-happy Elder Hilversum. Mark felt very unsettled, and yet Elder Hilversum didn’t seem to notice. He just serenely breezed through the day as if nothing was new, which Mark found somewhat depressing; it’s tough to be gloomy without company, and this cheerful Hilversum guy just wasn’t cooperating. Mark frowned at the ground. His mind was still in Cedar Court, on the Caufields.
Elder Hilversum wiped a stream of perspiration from going into his eye. “Why don’t you ride behind me, if you don’t know where you are?”
“Thanks for the advice, but I prefer being upwind. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but joggers carry a peculiar scent about them.” Elder Macklind rode a large figure eight.
“You’re just afraid to sweat,” the runner accused, smirking.
Mark grimaced. “Do not mistake fright for what is actually disgust, elder.” He allowed his companion to plod past him and followed around the corner. “I just have a strong aversion to shin splints.”
Elder Hilversum laughed. As he silently watched the hiking figure in front of his bike, Mark had to admit a grudging respect for his companion’s tenacity, though he also thought it was insane to willingly submit oneself to such inevitable pain. Mark wondered why there wasn’t an easier way to get fit. Why isn’t there ever an easier way?
His thoughts wandered again to yesterday’s area, to the Caufields. What didn’t they understand? Maybe he should have said something else, done something more. But what? It was so frustrating. Honestly, he thought he had done all that he could. It was someone else’s responsibility now. But still, it was an awfully hard thing to understand why their enthusiasm died.
“Oh, boy,” Elder Hilversum sighed, waking Mark from his abstraction and finishing the run by slowing to a walk. “That was a lot of fun.”
Mark made a face. “It looked like torture,” he hissed.
“Oh, but, Elder Macklind, it feels so great!” Elder Hilversum exclaimed, wiping his face with his shirt.
“Only when you stop,” Mark said, hopping off his bike and pushing it up the driveway. “Nothing could get me to do that to myself.”
But the next day the tire on his bike popped, and when the time for the daily exercise ritual rolled around, Mark found himself jogging beside his persistent companion. “Glad to have you with me,” Elder Hilversum puffed, grinning widely. Elder Macklind only growled in return. He wasn’t sure that he clearly understood how this had happened.
Mr. Caufield had grinned so widely, too, after accepting the baptismal challenge. His wife had cried and hugged Mark tightly as he left; he told her she would look so pretty in white. And she would have, too, if they had only tried harder. Mark winced at the memory. All the plans, filling the font, so much excitement, smiling all day, and then finding their note instead of them: “We just do not want to be baptized after all.” Mark shut his eyes tight.
“Hey, Elder Macklind! You’re beginning to sweat!” Elder Hilversum laughed, enjoying the sight. Mark could feel it too.
“Ssh!” he motioned. “Don’t broadcast it!” His hairline was beginning to glue to his skin, bringing a strange sensation over his body. How could he do this every day? Elder Hilversum hopped ahead a few steps. Mark trudged on.
Sometimes Mark wondered why he had come on a mission at all. Just like this stupid run, it often seemed like a lot of effort for no good purpose. He just got sore legs and an aching heart that beat too hard as if it were going to explode out of his chest. And he went back three times, but he never saw the Caufields again before the transfer. Maybe never again, period. Mark contorted his eyebrows into a knot, and tiny trickles of water fell down his face. He gritted his teeth. Why does he keep running?
The jog had become rudely taxing. Mark began to punctuate each plop of his heels with a gutterul groan, partly out of exhaustion and partly in an effort to complain: “Ugh!”—step—“Ugh!”—step—“Ugh!” His seeping energy was beginning to upset him. He could feel anger well up deep inside and churn up toward his head, as if his feet were pumping it farther with every plod. What’s the point in trying anyway? There was so much to be angry about. Mark wanted to give in to it.
They came to a crosswalk, and Elder Hilversum was jogging in place waiting for the light to change when Mark caught up to him. “Is anyone watching us?” Mark huffed to his companion, the pogo stick.
Elder Hilversum grinned again, glancing from side to side, “Nope.”
“Good!” Mark blurted, and promptly fell to the ground in a lifeless sprawl, moaning, “All over. All over. Any time now.”
Anxiously, Elder Hilversum reached for his land-grabbing companion. “Get up, Elder Macklind, get up! Are you all right?”
“Dying. Dying,” Mark lamented from among the grass blades and dirt.
“No, you’re not dying,” Elder Hilversum retorted impatiently, pulling at Mark’s arm. “But you’ll cramp up if you lie there much longer.”
Mark slowly stood again, leaning on Elder Hilversum with dedicated weariness. “Aren’t we done yet?” he wailed.
“Press forward, Elder Macklind,” Elder Hilversum advised, his patience returning with his place-running. “Have a perfect brightness of hope.”
“I’m beyond hope,” Mark murmured. “I’m well into despair.”
The pair jaunted on, Elder Hilversum slowing his pace to stay beside Elder Macklind. Mark wanted to cry. So hard. Thud, lift, thud, lift, thud.
Elder Hilversum began to gasp out a hymn, managing five words at a breath: “Let us all press on … in the work of the … Lord that when life is … o’er we may gain a …”
Mark couldn’t join in, because he wanted to scream. How could he act happy under these conditions? Another thud, lift, thud, lift, thud, lift … every day like this? And Elder Hilversum plowing ahead in breathy song with his permanent smile, like a marathon minstrel harboring a secret pleasure. Mark stared at him with aching eyes, torn between sincere anguish and raging rebellion.
“Elder Hilversum,” Mark called, turning the warbler’s sweaty head in mid-chorus, seeing the grin melt to concern, “how can you go like this every day, running on?”
Two hard plods. “This is silly,” Mark panted, unfinished. “I’m killing myself on this road; I really am. But you just keep going. Why, elder? Why?” And then, after a thud, “How?”
Elder Hilversum furrowed his wet, hot brow. “I don’t know, Elder Macklind,” he said, still tramping on. “I just keep reminding myself that the feeling of accomplishment will always be worth the temporary pain of effort.”
They stepped up to a curb, in lock-jog.
“You make it sound like spiritual persecution,” Mark muttered.
The senior companion grinned. “Do I?” he asked and laughed. Then he stretched the stride.
That grin was ingratiating. But the memory of the Caufields demanded his depression, and so Mark moaned. “I can’t imagine anything being worth this pain!”
“Don’t dwell on how much it hurts, Elder Macklind.”
“Everything hurts.”
“Just keep moving. Don’t worry about how fast you’re going, just keep going, and give it all you’ve got. I’ll run with you.”
Mark nodded, swallowing. “I know.”
“Elder Macklind, do your best. Push yourself, and don’t stop at less. You’ve been doing your best. Don’t quit now because it’s getting more difficult. Give it all you’ve got, and that’s all you need to give. Elder Macklind, all you can do is all you can do.”
Mark watched the sidewalk disappear under his feet. “Yeah, okay,” he said, but wanted to say something better. Elder Hilversum ran beside him, and so Mark pushed a little harder. Elder Hilversum grinned. He was always doing that. And the house wasn’t too far now, anyway.
Mark wiped his face with his hand and threw the sweat behind him. He was beginning to understand a little better, and the day didn’t look so bad now. Running on, he reflected, “All we can do is all we can do,” and smiled a little. That made sense, he decided, and brought his head up to see the sun, thinking, “Maybe I’ll run again tomorrow.”

Francisco is sometimes tormented at school because he is a member of the Church. One day two boys he was playing with started to hit him. One of them hit him very hard in the head. “I didn’t fight with them,” he said, “because I don’t like to fight and I know that it is bad. Also something told me not to fight with them. It was the Holy Ghost.”
The director of the school called in the parents of all three boys to help solve the problem. After the meeting, the director told Francisco’s parents how impressed she was with him for not fighting, for telling the truth, and for his good example for the other children. “My friends were punished for what they had done—they couldn’t go out at recess for one or two weeks.” Francisco is grateful that the Holy Ghost prompted him to do what was right.

Mia was sad. It was time for bed, and she couldn’t find her stuffed cat, Tinkerbell. Everybody helped her look—Grandma, Grandpa, Mom, and Dad. No Tinkerbell.
They searched all over. They looked under the bed. They looked behind the couch. They even looked under the sink. Still no Tinkerbell.
“We’re not having much luck, are we?” Mom said.
“No,” Mia said with a frown.
“I don’t know where Tinkerbell is,” Mom said. “But there’s someone who does know.”
Mia’s eyes lit up. “Who?”
“Heavenly Father knows. Should we say a prayer and ask Him for help?”
Mia nodded and knelt down. Everyone stopped searching and knelt down too.
“Heavenly Father, I miss Tinkerbell. Please help us find her. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen,” Mia prayed.
“Now we need to listen and think so the Holy Ghost can help us find Tinkerbell,” Dad said. They were all quiet for a little while.
Mom looked at Mia. “Where do you think Tinkerbell is?”
“In the closet,” Mia said.
Everybody checked a closet. But there was still no Tinkerbell. Suddenly Mom had an idea. “This morning I put your backpack in the upstairs closet. We didn’t check there yet. Maybe Tinkerbell is there.”
Mia and Mom ran upstairs to check. They opened the closet. Tinkerbell was in the backpack!
Mia gave Tinkerbell a great big hug. Mia and Mom knelt down right there and thanked Heavenly Father.

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!”

Illustrated by Mike Eagle
Even though Elder David O. McKay’s daughter Lou Jean was very ill, he had to travel out of state for a stake conference.
Elder McKay: I’ll be back as soon as I can.
Not long after he left, Elder McKay received a telegram saying that he needed to come home right away. When he stepped off the train at home, his father was there to greet him.
Elder McKay: Is Lou Jean still alive?
Father: Yes, but she’s worse than when you left.
A doctor and a nurse stayed at Elder McKay’s house all night. Other family members came to help for several days, but Lou Jean grew only worse.
On Sunday, Elder McKay sent his sons Lawrence and Llewelyn to church while he and his wife, Emma Ray, stayed home to care for Lou Jean.
Elder McKay: Son, will you ask the Sunday School president to have the Sunday School classes pray for Lou Jean today?
Son: Yes, Father.
Elder McKay’s son obeyed. He noticed that at 11:00 the requested prayer was given.
When Elder McKay’s sons returned home, they received good news.
Elder McKay: Well, boys, Lou Jean is going to be all right! At 11:00 this morning she finally relaxed and fell into a calm sleep.
Son: Father, that’s when the Sunday School prayed for her!
Elder McKay: Heavenly Father has rewarded the faithful prayers of many people who love us. We must show Him our gratitude.

The patriarchal order runs from Abraham to Isaac and to Jacob. Through the line of the priesthood, it continues in our own day and time. Through the ages, blessings and promises were given from the fathers to their faithful sons. A modern example of this is taken from the life of Elder John B. Dickson of the Seventy. He recalls:
“When it was time for me to go on a mission, I was very excited to serve the Lord. Just before I was to leave, however, I found out that I had bone cancer. The chance of living long enough to serve a mission wasn’t very high. I had faith that the Lord would provide a way if He wanted me to go. My father gave me a blessing in which I was told that I would serve my mission in Mexico, serve in the Church all my life, and have a family. My right arm had to be amputated above the elbow, but my life was spared, and the promises I was given have all been fulfilled.
“Some would think that losing an arm would be a terrible burden, but it has been one of the greatest blessings in my life. I learned that it is very important to have challenges and to face up to them.”
Elder Dickson had always been right-handed, and now he had to learn to do everything left-handed. One struggle was learning how to tie his ties. He said: “One Sunday morning when I was in my bedroom with my tie in my hand, I thought, How am I going to tie this? I thought about getting a clip-on tie. I thought about asking Mom to help me. But I couldn’t take her with me on my mission just to tie my ties. So I decided I had to learn how to do it myself. I finally figured it out by using my teeth. I still do it that way, even after having tied it thousands of times.”

Since my early school days, I have had a strong interest in various religions. I attended many church services and listened to many sermons. When I was in junior high school, I began searching for a true church, just as Joseph Smith did, and prayed earnestly that I might be led to one.
One afternoon, a friend I had not seen for some time came into my classroom. In my friend’s hand, I saw my first copy of the Book of Mormon. I was curious about the front cover design showing someone blowing a horn, and asked him, “What is that?” That was how I began to learn about the Church.
The Book of Mormon became priceless to me, just as it is to many others throughout the world. It is not just an ordinary book. I found it gave me great strength. I always carried it with me so I could read it whenever I wanted to. After a while, I discovered that I could do more than just read it. I realized that there are many people around me who may be in need of the Lord’s words, just as I was.
Sometimes the Spirit prompts me to talk to a particular person. When that happens, I pray to know what to say, and then I say it. This happens quite frequently.
Because I have a personal attachment to my copy of the Book of Mormon, and I would rather not give it away, I decided to carry an extra copy with me. However, I realized that sometimes one copy is not enough, so I started to carry two copies instead.
Frustrating my mother’s wish to see me grow up a charming little lady carrying a petite purse on my arm, I began to carry copies of the Book of Mormon in a heavy shoulder bag instead. The weight of the bag reminds me that I am a Latter-day Saint with something important to share. When I am tired, I try to do my missionary work more quickly, sharing my load.
Whenever I tell someone how important the Book of Mormon is to me and how great a joy it is for me to share it, they usually accept it. They may not read it right away, but you never know when that person may stop to ponder who he is, what the purpose of this life is, and where he is going. He may then remember what I testified to him, and open the book.
Whenever I give someone a copy of the Book of Mormon, I always try to imagine their expression when they discover that the book is a second witness of Jesus Christ, which contains his teachings, including the plan of salvation and our Heavenly Father’s love for us. That discovery may change the rest of their life.
Once in a while I go to the local Church Distribution Center to buy ten copies of the Book of Mormon. As I travel home, there is always someone on the train who says to me, “Your package seems heavy. I’ll hold it on my lap for you.” Whenever that happens, I always present a copy of the Book of Mormon to that person as a token of my appreciation. At the same time, I bear my testimony that the book comes from God and I tell them how important it is to me. On one occasion, another passenger sitting next to the person holding my package watched what went on. He also offered to help me.
For me, even holding a copy of the Book of Mormon brings blessings. I always like to hold my copy when I go to sleep, and if I ever feel insecure, I can go to sleep peacefully. You can imagine how blessed I feel when I read it.
When I feel inner turmoil because of personal pride, King Benjamin (Mosiah 2:20–22, 24–26) speaks to me. When I suffer from my weaknesses, I am taught by Moroni and Nephi (Ether 12:27, and 2 Ne. 4:17–35). When I am feeling hesitant, I read about Nephi (1 Ne. 3:7). When I am afraid to bear my testimony, Abinadi, who bore his testimony at the risk of his own life, speaks to me.
I think of Amulek (Alma 15:16), rejected by those who were once his friends; the courage demonstrated by the two thousand valiant warriors (Alma 57:19–21); the Anti-Nephi-Lehis, who showed their deep repentance and strong love for their fellowmen (Alma 24); marvelous missionaries, like Alma, Ammon, Aaron, and Muleki; the humility and strong faith demonstrated by the Brother of Jared; King Lamoni, whose heart was as pure as that of a child; Moroni, and Samuel, the Lamanite prophet, who had firm convictions of their faith and courage. I wonder what Moroni thought when he was left all alone after the great battle at the Hill Cumorah, and then as he buried the golden plates.
I appreciate Joseph Smith desperately protecting those same sacred plates, and being worthy to translate them so that we may have the Book of Mormon in our day. I feel the joy and privilege of having the Book of Mormon as my companion, and I pray that I may be worthy to meet its authors someday.

I recently received an email from a young man I know and love who has humbled himself before the Lord and exercised his faith to be obedient to His will. With his permission, I share a portion of his letter. As I read this, see if you can detect the very principles I have mentioned today:
Years and years of trying to overcome my challenges, only to be beaten down again had taken its toll on me, mentally, spiritually and even physically...I had tried everything to get over my problems. It wasn't as simple as repenting anymore, it was an addiction...I knew I needed God's help, but sometimes felt forsaken in my depressed state...I heeded as best I could your counsels and inspired words...It took more faith [and humility] than I have ever mustered before in my life. Faith in God and the Atonement and earnest prayer...And so I tried, I took it a half a day at a time. Then a day at a time, and so on - And now I am here in the MTC about to serve a mission for the Lord.[29]
While I wish he had never touched the unclean thing,[30] I am profoundly grateful for our Savior who has all power in heaven and earth to miraculously cleanse, strengthen, heal, and make my friend--and you and me--whole.[31]

When my father passed away suddenly, I had a very difficult time dealing with my grief. I had been a member of the Church for 16 years and thought I was prepared for this experience, but I struggled greatly.
One evening about a month after my father’s death, I picked up the September 2004 Liahona and began to read. The article in Latter-day Saint Voices entitled “Death Is a New Beginning,” by Claudia Yolanda Ortíz Herrera, caught my attention immediately. The author’s experience was very much like my own, and after reading the article three times, I began to have a better understanding about many things and I felt greater peace. My testimony that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ live was strengthened, and I realized that, indeed, death is just a beginning. I am so grateful for the Liahona and for that wonderful article.Zullymar Rodríguez Castro, Costa Hermosa Ward, Barranquilla Colombia Hipodromo Stake

I should like to be for a few minutes a witness in support of the proposition that the gospel of Jesus Christ has been restored in our day and that this is His Church, which was organized under His direction through the Prophet Joseph Smith. I should like to give some reasons for the faith I have and for my allegiance to the Church. Perhaps I can do this more quickly by referring to an interview I had in London, England, in 1939, just before the outbreak of [World War II]. I had met a very prominent English gentleman, a member of the House of Commons, formerly one of the justices of the Supreme Court of England. In my conversations with this gentleman on various subjects, “vexations of the soul” he called them, we talked about business and law, about politics, international relations and war, and we frequently discussed religion. He called me on the phone one day and asked if I would meet him at his office and explain some phases of the gospel. He said: “I think there is going to be a war. If there is, you will have to return to America, and we may not meet again.” His statement regarding the imminence of war and the possibility that we would not meet again proved to be prophetic. When I went to his office, he said he was intrigued by some things I had told him. He asked me to prepare a brief on Mormonism … and discuss it with him as I would discuss a legal problem.
He said: “You have told me that you believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet. You have said to me that you believe that God the Father and Jesus of Nazareth appeared to Joseph Smith. I cannot understand how a barrister and solicitor from Canada, a man trained in logic and evidence, could accept such absurd statements. What you tell me about Joseph Smith seems fantastic, but I think you should take three days at least to prepare a brief and permit me to examine it and question you on it.”
I suggested that we proceed at once and have an examination for discovery, which is briefly a meeting of opposing sides in a lawsuit where the plaintiff and defendant, with their attorneys, meet to examine each other’s claims and see if they can find some area of agreement, thus saving the time of the court later on. I said perhaps we could see whether we had some common ground from which we could discuss my “fantastic” ideas. He agreed to that quite readily.
I can only give you, in the few minutes at my disposal, a condensed and abbreviated synopsis of the three-hour conversation which followed. In the interest of time I shall resort to the question-and-answer method rather than narration. I began by asking, “May I proceed, sir, on the assumption that you are a Christian?”
“I am.”
“I assume you believe in the Bible—the Old and New Testament?”
“I do!”
“Do you believe in prayer?”
“I do!”
“You say that my belief that God spoke to a man in this age is fantastic and absurd?”
“To me, it is.”
“Do you believe that God ever did speak to anyone?”
“Certainly. All through the Bible we have evidence of that.”
“Did He speak to Adam?”
“Yes.”
“To Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jacob, Joseph, and on through the prophets?”
“I believe He spoke to each of them.”
“Do you believe that contact between God and man ceased when Jesus appeared on the earth?”
“No, such communication reached its climax, its apex at that time.”
“Do you believe that Jesus was the Son of God?”
“He was.”
“Do you believe, sir, that after Jesus was resurrected a certain lawyer, who was also a tent maker by the name of Saul of Tarsus, when on his way to Damascus, talked with Jesus of Nazareth, who had been crucified, resurrected, and had ascended into heaven?”
“I do.”
“Whose voice did Saul hear?”
“It was the voice of Jesus Christ, for He so introduced Himself.”
“Then, … I am submitting to you in all seriousness that it was standard procedure in Bible times for God to talk to man.”
“I think I will admit that, but it stopped shortly after the first century of the Christian era.”
“Why do you think it stopped?”
“I can’t say.”
“You think that God hasn’t spoken since then?”
“I am sure He hasn’t.”
“There must be a reason; can you give me a reason?”
“I do not know.”
“May I suggest some possible reasons: perhaps God does not speak to man anymore because He cannot. He has lost the power.”
He said, “Of course that would be blasphemous.”
“Well, then, if you don’t accept that, perhaps He doesn’t speak to men because He doesn’t love us anymore. He is no longer interested in the affairs of men.”
“No,” he said, “God loves all men, and He is no respecter of persons.”
“Well, then, if He could speak and if He loves us, then the only other possible answer, as I see it, is that we don’t need Him. We have made such rapid strides in science, we are so well educated, that we don’t need God anymore.”
And then he said, and his voice trembled as he thought of impending war: “Mr. Brown, there never was a time in the history of the world when the voice of God was needed as it is needed now. Perhaps you can tell me why He doesn’t speak.”
My answer was: “He does speak. He has spoken, but men need faith to hear Him.”
Then we proceeded to prepare what I may call a “profile of a prophet.” … We agreed, between us, that the following characteristics should distinguish a man who claims to be a prophet.
A. He will boldly claim that God [has] spoken to him.
B. Any man so claiming would be a dignified man with a dignified message; no table-jumping, no whisperings from the dead, no clairvoyance, but an intelligent statement of truth.
C. Any man claiming to be a prophet of God would declare his message without any fear and without making any weak concessions to public opinion.
D. If he were speaking for God, he could not make concessions although what he taught would be new and contrary to the accepted teachings of the day. A prophet bears witness to what he has seen and heard and seldom tries to make a case by argument. His message and not himself is important.
E. Such a man would speak in the name of the Lord, saying, “Thus saith the Lord,” as did Moses, Joshua, and others.
F. Such a man would predict future events in the name of the Lord, and they would come to pass, as did Isaiah and Ezekiel.
G. He would have not only an important message for his time but often a message for all future time, such as Daniel, Jeremiah, and others had.
H. He would have courage and faith enough to endure persecution and to give his life, if need be, for the cause he espoused, such as Peter, Paul, and others did.
I. Such a man would denounce wickedness fearlessly. He would generally be rejected or persecuted by the people of his time, but later generations, the descendants of his persecutors, would build monuments in his honor.
J. He would be able to do superhuman things, things that no man could do without God’s help. The consequence or result of his message and work would be convincing evidence of his prophetic calling. “By their fruits ye shall know them” [Matt. 7:20].
K. His teachings would be in strict conformity with scripture, and his words and his writings would become scripture. “For the prophecy came not in old time by the will of man: but holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost” (2 Pet. 1:21).
Now, I have given but an outline which you can fill in and amplify and then measure and judge the Prophet Joseph Smith by the work and stature of other prophets.
As a student of the life of the Prophet Joseph Smith for more than 50 years, I say to you … , by these standards Joseph Smith qualifies as a prophet of God.
I believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God because he talked like a prophet. He was the first man since the Apostles of Jesus Christ were slain to make the claim which prophets have always made, [namely,] that God had spoken to him. He lived and died like a prophet. I believe he was a prophet of God because he gave to this world some of the greatest of all revelations. I believe that he was a prophet of God because he predicted many things which have come to pass, things which only God could bring to pass.
John, the beloved disciple of Jesus, declared, “The testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy” [Rev. 19:10]. If Joseph Smith had the testimony of Jesus, he had the spirit of prophecy, and if he had the spirit of prophecy, he was a prophet. I submit to you, and I submitted to my friend, that as much as any man who ever lived he had a testimony of Jesus, for, like the Apostles of old, he saw Him and heard Him speak. He gave his life for that testimony. I challenge any man to name one who has given more evidence of the divine calling of Jesus Christ than did the Prophet Joseph Smith.
I believe the Prophet Joseph Smith was a prophet because he did many superhuman things. One was translating the Book of Mormon. Some people will not agree, but I submit to you that the Prophet Joseph Smith in translating the Book of Mormon did a superhuman work. I ask you … to undertake to write a story on the ancient inhabitants of America. Write as he did without any source of material. Include in your story 54 chapters dealing with wars, 21 historical chapters, 55 chapters on visions and prophecies, and, remember, when you begin to write on visions and prophecies you must have your record agree meticulously with the Bible. You write 71 chapters on doctrine and exhortation, and, here too, you must check every statement with the scriptures or you will be proven to be a fraud. You must write 21 chapters on the ministry of Christ, and everything you claim He said and did and every testimony you write in your book about Him must agree absolutely with the New Testament.
I ask you, would you like to undertake such a task? I would suggest to you too that you must employ figures of speech, similes, metaphors, narrations, exposition, description, oratory, epic, lyric, logic, and parables. Undertake that, will you? I ask you to remember that the man that translated the Book of Mormon was a young man who hadn’t had the opportunity of schooling that you have had, and yet he dictated that book in just over two months and made very few, if any, corrections. For over 100 years, some of the best students and scholars of the world have been trying to prove from the Bible that the Book of Mormon is false, but not one of them has been able to prove that anything he wrote was not in strict harmony with the scriptures. …
Joseph Smith undertook and accomplished other superhuman tasks; among them I list the following: He organized the Church. (I call attention to the fact that no constitution effected by human agency has survived 100 years without modification or amendment, even the Constitution of the United States. The basic law or constitution of the Church has never been altered.) He undertook to carry the gospel message to all nations, which is a superhuman task still in progress. He undertook, by divine command, to gather thousands of people to Zion. He instituted vicarious work for the dead and built temples for that purpose. He promised that certain signs should follow the believers, and there are thousands of witnesses who certify that this promise has been fulfilled.
I said to my friend, “… I cannot understand your saying to me that my claims are fantastic. Nor can I understand why Christians who claim to believe in Christ would persecute and put to death a man whose whole purpose was to prove the truth of the things they themselves were declaring, namely, that Jesus was the Christ. I could understand them for persecuting Joseph if he had said, ‘I am Christ,’ or if he had said, ‘There is no Christ,’ or if he had said someone else is Christ. Then Christians believing in Christ would be justified in opposing him. But what he said was, ‘He whom ye claim to serve, declare I unto you. … I testify that I saw Him and talked with Him. He is the Son of God. Why persecute me for that?’” …
Perhaps some of you are wondering how the judge reacted to our discussion. He sat and listened intently; he then asked some very pointed and searching questions, and at the end of the period he said: “Mr. Brown, I wonder if your people appreciate the import of your message. Do you?” He said, “If what you have told me is true, it is the greatest message that has come to this earth since the angels announced the birth of Christ.”
This was a judge speaking, a great statesman, an intelligent man. He threw out the challenge: “Do you appreciate the import of what you say?” He added: “I wish it were true. I hope it may be true. God knows it ought to be true. I would to God,” he said, and he wept as he said it, “that some man could appear on earth and authoritatively say, ‘Thus saith the Lord.’”
As I intimated, we did not meet again. I have brought to you very briefly some of the reasons why I believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. But undergirding and overarching all that, I say to you from the very center of my heart that by the revelations of the Holy Ghost I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. While these evidences and many others that could be cited may have the effect of giving one an intellectual conviction, only by the whisperings of the Holy Spirit can one come to know the things of God. By those whisperings I say I know that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God. I thank God for that knowledge.

When Ezequiel Agustín Frau lost his job in early 2006, he’d been home from his mission to Colombia for nearly two years. He was still single but felt that his future wife was not in Ushuaia. He decided to go to the temple to seek direction.
“I wanted to be more in contact with the Holy Ghost, learn the Lord’s will for me, and seek inspiration,” he says. “The temple helped me find it.”
When he reached Buenos Aires following a three-day, 2,000-mile (3,200 km) bus ride, he stayed with friends and then a relative while frequenting the temple. Several weeks later Ezequiel was running out of money and considering a return to Ushuaia. A local bishop found him a job, however, so he decided to stay.
At a Church activity a short while later, Ezequiel met a young woman named Marina Mas. They found it easy to talk, and he quickly felt comfortable around her. When he saw Marina again at a young single adult gathering, she said something that impressed him.
“We should be living at the level of the kind of person we are looking to marry,” Ezequiel recalls Marina saying during a discussion about goals.
For her part, Marina had been praying to find a worthy companion. She knew a lot of young men but was immediately impressed with Ezequiel’s spirituality.
A mutual friend helped Ezequiel find a place to live that was closer to his work, then three hours by bus from where he was staying. It turned out that his new apartment—in a city of 13 million people—was only two blocks from Marina’s home.
“I didn’t plan to live two blocks from her home,” he recalls. “I didn’t even know where she lived.”
Living in close proximity gave Ezequiel ample opportunity to see Marina, whose family gave him a warm welcome. The confluence of events was an answer to his prayers.
The couple dated and soon began planning their future together. After marrying in the temple in the fall of 2006, they moved to Ushuaia.
“We can’t always understand the vision our Father in Heaven has, and we can’t plan everything,” Ezequiel says in retrospect. “But we can be obedient and give Him a chance to bless us.”

I grew up with the same friends for the first 12 years of my life. We were neighbors. We went to the same schools and attended each other’s birthday parties. I sometimes ate at their homes, they came to mine, and we had fun together. But when we became teenagers, things began to change. They were not members of the Church, and they swore, they smoked, and they drank alcohol. They had a completely different view of the law of chastity than I did.
I thought about the problem carefully, and then I talked to my father about what to do. He said, “You have to decide. These good friends are different from you. Before you couldn’t tell, but now there’s a very big difference.”
I trusted my father’s counsel. My friends knew I was a member of the Church, so when I decided not to always go everywhere they went, they understood. Eventually, we spent less and less time together even though we were still friendly.
It was a trial for me to leave my friends, but I knew that it was important to maintain the principles of the gospel in my life. I thought about Alma’s counsel to his sons when he taught them to have faith in God. He said, “Whosoever shall put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials” (Alma 36:3).
One of the things that helped me get through this hard time was going every week to Church activities, including Mutual. I also kept myself busy with dancing, sports, and youth conferences.
I made a new friend who was not a member of the Church, and he sometimes invited me to go to parties. These parties were the same day as Mutual, so I told him, “I’m sorry. I would like to go, but I have other plans.”
He asked what I was doing. I told him, “I’m going to Mutual.”
“What’s Mutual?” he asked.
I explained that we had a lot of fun activities at Mutual and that I was serving as a counselor in the presidency. After I turned down three invitations to his parties, he said, “Invite me to Mutual.”
So he came with me, the missionaries taught him, and he was eventually baptized.
I invite you to make decisions now so that you can be a light to your friends. One thing you can do is attend seminary. Your seminary teachers do their part; they put forth a lot of effort in preparing lessons for you. Seminary will be even more of a blessing to you when you do your part: read the assignments, pray and fast, receive and accept the teachings. Learning takes place when both parties do what they need to do.
When I was in high school, one of my friends invited me to a party and said, “Let’s go ask my father if we can borrow his car.” His father did not want to let him borrow the car. Then, when his father saw me, he said, “OK, I’ll let you borrow the car, but only if Benjamín will drive.”
This man knew that my family and I were members of the Church, that we didn’t drink alcohol, and that I would be a safe driver.
The reaction of my friend’s father helped me appreciate my parents’ teachings and the example they set. At home we had family home evening and family prayer. Sunday was a day of rest for us. These types of things were the gospel in action for us, and we enjoyed it a lot. My father often invited other members of the Church to come to our house to talk about the gospel on Sunday afternoons. We ate together, we talked about the gospel, and we shared a close friendship.
Prepare now to build your own strong future families. You do that when you are active in learning about the gospel. Remember that if you will put your trust in God; have daily, fervent prayer; read the scriptures; keep yourselves clean; and work on your Duty to God or Personal Progress, you will be protected from harm, will be a light to your friends, and will find joy in your life.

About a year after the death of our baby, we moved and I was assigned to minister to a young couple with two children. The older daughter had contracted an infection while in the womb and was born with a severe mental disability. Although she was nine years old at the time, she was like an infant developmentally. It was a struggle for the young family, who had limited means.
One day I received a phone call telling me she had died during the night. No member of the bishopric was available to visit just then, so I was asked to visit until they could get there. I arrived as her body was being removed, and I had a chance to talk with the father. The wife’s ministering sister arrived and did an amazing job comforting the family and taking care of the home.
I went with the father to the funeral home to make the arrangements. I suppose I was able to render some service because of my prior experiences. I don’t consider myself a great ministering brother, but I was glad I wasn’t a stranger in that home.

On another day when Mehitabel and Grandpa arrived at the park, everyone was eating doughnuts that Mrs. Gray had brought. “I saved some for you two!” she told Mehitabel and Grandpa, passing the doughnuts to them.
Mehitabel was just about to take a bite when Mr. Loomis challenged her. “Hitty, I have a riddle song for you. Listen and riddle me this.”
He took a mouth organ from his pocket and played a short, sweet tune. Then he began to sing:
“I gave my love a cherry
That had no stone.
I gave my love a chicken
That had no bone.
I gave my love a story
That had no end.
I gave my love a garden
That no one needs to tend.”
Mehitabel really didn’t need to ponder this one. She had learned the old folk song in school. But she didn’t want Mr. Loomis to feel cheated, so she pretended to consider the problem. She wrinkled her brow. She scratched her head. She bit her lip. Then she looked up, smiled, and began to sing:
“A cherry in the blossom,
That has no stone.
A chicken in the egg still,
That has no bone.
The story that ‘I love you,’
That had no end.
A garden in a seed pack,
That no one needs to tend.”
The listeners nodded and smiled. They would have liked to stump Mehitabel and get those ice-cream cones, but they were proud that she could riddle the riddle song. Grandpa, of course, was delighted.