Gospel Story Finder

Prior to the handover ceremony, 132 members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints congregations joined with other members of the community to clean the health center and prepare the building for new medical equipment.

The building had been abandoned many years ago. During the four-month renovation project, skilled laborers volunteered their time to the project. Electricians, carpenters, bricklayers, aluminum fabricators, painters, plumbers, and masons all served to ensure the completion of the project. The community youth participated by clearing debris and cutting the grass.

The coordinator of the project, Clement Okoye, was excited that months of hard work and sacrifice had come to fruition. “The community has been needing a functional health Center for a very long time,” said Okoye. “This is a dream come true. The mortality rate here is very high due to lack of medical amenities. Daily life is a risk where we live. We are grateful that LDS Charities came to our rescue.”

Ezeigwe Peter, president of the Onitsha Nigeria Stake, stated that he was overwhelmed by the support and appreciation shown by the community and was impressed by the commitment of individuals. He charged them to maintain the facility and ensure they use the donated equipment judiciously.

“At the beginning of middle school, I met another member of the Church who was very spiritually strong. He was an Aaronic Priesthood holder and seemed like a good example of someone who lived the gospel. We became good friends and talked a lot about the Church. As we got older, his self-worth and ability to uphold his standards started to deteriorate. Though we were still somewhat friends, he associated with others who were not very good influences. I would hear him curse frequently and joke about immorality and other inappropriate things. Several of his friends were atheists and would talk rudely about ‘Mormonism.’ Later, he became addicted to tea and, at age 13, got a girlfriend.

“I didn’t know what to do. I tried telling him in a friendly way of my concern for him several times, but he brushed me aside. Still I didn’t give up. I upheld my standards and tried to be an example for him. I didn’t want to stop being his friend, but as things got really bad, that path started looking better and better. Eventually, I got on my knees several times in prayer for his safety.

“Then his father got a job in another state. This upcoming move caused my friend’s eyes to be opened to all he had done. All I had tried to tell him for three years, he suddenly understood. During the next few weeks, he worked hard to undo his past as much as he could. When I spoke to him, he thanked me for my example and willingness to not give up on him. He was the happiest he had been in years and truly understood what it means to be a Latter-day Saint.

“For any friend who falters, I think it’s best to alert him of his actions. But if, like my friend, he won’t listen, don’t give up. This is probably when he’ll need a real friend the most. Keep your standards, even if he tempts you to do otherwise. Pray for him. I know that you can gain strength through this, and I know that you won’t be alone in your efforts. It’s easy to feel weak and out of place when we stand for good. But through the weak, the Lord will do a mighty work.”

Collin Z., 16, Wyoming, USA

When I was 11 years old, my bishop invited me and a few other young men my age to meet with him to discuss our responsibilities once we received the priesthood. He also shared with us his testimony of the Book of Mormon and made a request. I had no idea how much of an influence his words would have on my life.
Our bishop invited us to read the entire Book of Mormon five times before we served our missions. We would have about eight years to complete the task. It seemed daunting, given that I didn’t really enjoy reading, especially not text as difficult as scripture. Yet, for reasons I cannot remember or fully explain, my 11-year-old mind decided to take this challenge seriously. I started that night by reading chapter 1 of 1 Nephi.
I didn’t understand much of the chapter, but I had a feeling that I was doing the right thing. The next day I read another chapter, and although I still didn’t understand all of Nephi’s words, I had that same feeling.
As time went on, I read a little bit of the Book of Mormon every day. Later that year, I closed the book after reading Moroni 10 and beamed with a sense of accomplishment. The next time I saw my bishop, I told him with excitement that I had finished reading the entire Book of Mormon. He smiled and commended my efforts but then said, “Don’t forget—you still need to read it four more times before you leave on your mission!”
Later that night, I picked up the Book of Mormon again and flipped through the pages. It had taken me a long time to read it. Would it take me as long the second time? Was it worth it? As I pondered, I turned to 1 Nephi chapter 1. I started reading the first few verses, and the Spirit again confirmed to me that this was the right thing to do. So, I read on. This was the turning point for me where scripture study became a habit rather than a one-time goal.
Over the next several months, the stories seemed more familiar and made more sense. I recognized several meaningful verses from the first time I read it, and I highlighted them. When someone taught from the Book of Mormon at church, I started to recognize some stories and teachings.
As I read, the book slowly changed me. Line upon line, precept upon precept, I started to understand and draw closer to the Savior. The teachings from the Book of Mormon became a part of who I was and what I believed. I continued reading the Book of Mormon over the next several years, and each time I finished reading Moroni 10, I put a tally mark on the inside cover of my book.
Eventually, the time came when I received my mission call. After celebrating with family and friends, I found some time alone and opened the inside cover of my Book of Mormon. I had accomplished my goal. More importantly, however, I had come to know my Savior.

“My father had a truck dealership in Winslow. When World War II came along, Dad couldn’t get any vehicles to sell, so he decided to leave his business and find new work. He found a welding job in Monrovia, California, and we moved there. When he was offered a job as master-mechanic for the harbor that the government was building in Moro Bay, California, we moved there for a year. Later we moved up to the San Francisco Bay Area to a walnut ranch until the war was over. Dad worked for a machine shop in Oakland.
“After the war, Dad decided that he wanted to move to a small community and open a machine shop. We moved to San Luis Obispo, California, where I went to high school. Later we moved to Santa Barbara. Living in so many different locations in California helps give me a love for my new assignment in the Church as second counselor in the North America West area presidency. It doesn’t make any difference where I go in California—I have some connection there!”

We can set objectives, if we will, to help guide us and to help us achieve something worthwhile in life. I would like to tell you about another letter I received during the hottest fighting in the Pacific. A young man in California wrote: “Brother Richards, there have been so many Mormon boys here in uniform and they have been such outstanding young fellows that it has literally changed the attitude of the people of this town toward the Mormon Church.” Then he told this specific story. He said that one of the women’s clubs in that town had sponsored a luncheon at a hotel. The lady in charge had had an extra plate placed at the table. She said, “We’ll invite the first soldier who comes along to occupy this place.” The first soldier happened to be a Mormon, and he did not hide his light under a bushel. When they tried to serve him coffee, he did not accept it. They offered to get him tea, and he did not want that.
This experience opened the door for that soldier to do missionary work. The women in the club wanted to know why he did not drink coffee or tea. This gave him a chance to tell them how he was raised. One woman at that table said right there that if the Mormon elders ever knocked at her door, she would let them in. She wanted to know more about a people who could raise a boy like that young man.
I told that story in the Assembly Hall one day at a conference. At the close of the meeting, a young man came up and he said, “Bishop (I was Presiding Bishop then), I am that young man.” I said, “No kidding.” He said, “No, sir.” And I asked, “Did I tell the story correctly?” He said, “Just exactly.” Then I asked, “What are you doing in the Church today?” Oh,” he answered, “I am bishop of such and such ward.” You see, the Lord knows who can be trusted. As President McKay has said, “It is better to be trusted than to be loved.”

Spiritual healing is illustrated in the story of Warren M. Johnson, pioneer ferryman at Lee’s Ferry, Arizona. As a young man, Warren Johnson came west seeking his fortune in gold in the summer of 1866. He became very ill, and his companions left him under a tree in the yard of a family in Bountiful. One of the daughters found him and reported there was a dead man out in the yard. Although he was a complete stranger, this kind family took him in and nursed him back to health. They taught him the gospel, and he was baptized. He eventually ended up as the ferryman at Lee’s Ferry.
In 1891 the Warren Johnson family suffered a great tragedy. Within a period of a short time, they lost four children to diphtheria. All four were buried in a row next to each other. In a letter to President Wilford Woodruff, dated July 29, 1891, Warren told the story:
“Dear Brother …
“In May 1891 a family residing in Tuba City, came here from Richfield Utah, where they … spent the winter visiting friends. At Panguitch they buried a child, … without disinfecting the wagon or themselves, [and] not even stopping to wash the dead child’s clothes, they came to our house, and remained overnight, mingling with my little children. …
“We knew nothing of the nature of the disease, but had faith in God, as we were here on a very hard mission, and had tried as hard as we knew how to obey the word of Wisdom, [to] attend to the other duties of our religion, such as paying [our] tithing, family prayers, etc. etc., that our children would be spared. But alas, in four and a half days [the oldest boy] choked to death in my arms. Two more were taken down with the disease and we fasted and prayed as much as we thought it wisdom as we had many duties to perform here. We fasted [for] twenty-four hours and once I fasted [for] forty hours, but [to] no avail for both my little girls died also. About a week after their death my fifteen year old daughter Melinda was [also] stricken down and we did all we could for her but she [soon] followed the others. … Three of my dear girls and one boy [have] been taken from us, and the end is not yet. My oldest girl nineteen years old is now prostrate [from] the disease, and we are fasting and praying in her behalf today. … I would ask for your faith and prayers in our behalf however. What have we done that the Lord has left us, and what can we do to gain his favor again[?]
“Yours in the gospel
“Warren M. Johnson” (in P. T. Riely, “Warren Marshall Johnson, Forgotten Saint,” Utah Historical Quarterly, Winter 1971, p. 19; spelling modernized).
In a subsequent letter dated August 16, 1891, to his friend Warren Foote, Brother Johnson testified that he had found a spiritual peace:
“I can assure you, however, that it is the hardest trial of my life, but I set out for salvation and am determined that … through the help of Heavenly Father that I [would] hold fast to the iron rod no matter what troubles [came] upon me. I have not slackened in the performance of my duties, and hope and trust that I shall have the faith and prayers of my brethren, that I can live so as to receive the blessings you having authority … placed on my head” (“Autobiography of Warren Foote of Glendale, Kane County, Utah,” vol. 2, 16 Aug. 1891; in LDS Church archives).

Perhaps one of the most moving incidents related at June Conference involved a teacher named Rod, who upon moving to a new city faced problems at home and school. (“I don’t have any friends. I haven’t had a date since we moved here.”)
Rod took off—California, Washington, Montana, Wyoming. He ended up in a detention home. Upon his release he became progressively more cynical. An arrest for shoplifting put Rod back in the detention home; he was now regarded as a juvenile delinquent.
About this time a new teachers quorum adviser was called for Rod’s quorum. The quorum members began to make frequent and regular visits to Rod at the home.
At first his reaction was skeptical (“Your percentages are low, huh?”), but the bishopric joined in and convinced the judge to release Rod under the condition that the quorum look out for him “all the time, at school, after school, at the movies, on the ball court.” The judge placed Rod under the legal custody of his parents, while at the same time putting “principal control and responsibility for his actions in the hands of Rodney Gailbreth’s teachers quorum.”

Here’s a second story, closer to home: As a young boy, I often saw my mom as the rule maker. She decided when I could play and when I had to go to bed or, worse, pull weeds in the yard.
She obviously loved me. But too often and to my shame, I saw her only as “She Who Must Be Obeyed.”
Only years later did I come to see her as a real person. I am embarrassed that I never really noticed her sacrifice or wondered why for years she only ever wore the same two old skirts (while I got new school clothes) or why, at the end of the day, she was so tired and eager for me to go to bed early.
Perhaps you’ve noticed that these two stories are really one story—for too many years, I was, in effect, face-blind. I failed to see my mom as a real person. I saw her rules but didn’t see in them her love.
I tell you these two stories to make one point: I suspect you know someone (perhaps you are someone) who suffers from a kind of spiritual face blindness.
You may struggle to see God as a loving Father. You may look heavenward and see not the face of love and mercy but a thicket of rules through which you must wend your way. Perhaps you believe God rules in His heavens, speaks through His prophets, and loves your sister, but you secretly wonder whether He loves you. Perhaps you have felt the iron rod in your hand but not yet felt your Savior’s love to which it leads.
I suspect you know people like this because for a long time, I was someone like this—I was spiritually face-blind.
I thought my life was about following rules and measuring up to abstract standards. I knew God loved you perfectly but didn’t feel it myself. I’m afraid I thought more about getting into heaven than being with my Heavenly Father.
If you, like me, can sometimes only lip-synch but not “sing the song of redeeming love,” what can we do?
The answer, as President Russell M. Nelson reminds us, is always Jesus. And that is very good news.
There’s a short verse in John that I love. It tells of a group of outsiders who make their way to a disciple with an important request. “Sir,” they say, “we would [like to] see Jesus.”
That is what we all want—we want to see Jesus for who He is and to feel His love. This should be the reason for most of what we do in the Church—and certainly of every sacrament meeting. If you’re ever wondering what kind of lesson to teach, what kind of meeting to plan, and whether to just give up on the deacons and play dodgeball, you might take this verse as your guide: will this help people see and love Jesus Christ? If not, maybe try something else.
When I realized that I was spiritually face-blind, that I saw rules but not the face of the Father’s mercy, I knew it wasn’t the Church’s fault. It wasn’t God’s, and it didn’t mean everything was lost; it’s something we all have to learn. Even the early witnesses to the Resurrection often came face-to-face with the resurrected Lord but did not recognize Him; from the Garden Tomb to the shores of Galilee, His first followers “saw Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus.” They had to learn to recognize Him, and so do we.
When I realized I was spiritually face-blind, I started to follow Mormon’s counsel to pray “with all the energy of heart” to be filled with the love promised His disciples—my love for Him and His love for me—and to “see him as he is … and have this hope.” I prayed for years to be able to follow the first great commandment to love God and to feel that “first great truth … that God loves us with all of His heart, might, mind, and strength.”
I also read and reread and reread the four Gospels—this time reading not to extract rules but to see who He is and what He loves. And, in time, I was swept away by the river of love that flowed from Him.
Jesus announced at the outset that He had come “to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind.”
This wasn’t just a to-do list or good PR; it is the shape of His love.
Open the Gospels at random; on almost every page we see Him caring for people who suffer—socially, spiritually, and physically. He touches people considered polluted and unclean and feeds the hungry.
What is your favorite story of Jesus? I suspect it shows the Son of God reaching out to embrace or offer hope to someone on the margins—the leper, the hated Samaritan, the accused and scandalous sinner, or the national enemy. That kind of grace is amazing.
Try writing down every time He praises or heals or eats with an outsider, and you will run low on ink before you leave Luke.
As I saw this, my heart leapt in loving recognition, and I began to feel that He might love me. As President Nelson taught, “The more you learn about the Savior, the easier it will be to trust in His mercy, His infinite love.” And the more you will trust and love your Heavenly Father.
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland has taught us that Jesus came to show “us who and what God our Eternal Father is like, how completely devoted He is to His children in every age and nation.”
Paul says God is “the Father of [all] mercies, and the God of all comfort.”
If you see Him differently, please keep trying.
Prophets invite us to seek His face. I take this as a reminder that we worship our Father, not a formula, and that we’re not finished until we see Jesus as the face of our Father’s love and follow Him, not just His rules.
When prophets and apostles talk of covenants, they aren’t like coaches yelling out from (red velvet) bleachers, telling us to “try harder!” They want us to see our covenants are fundamentally about relationships and can be a cure for spiritual face blindness. They are not rules to earn His love; He already loves you perfectly. Our challenge is to understand and shape our life to that love.
We try to see through our covenants, as if through a window, to the face of the Father’s mercy behind.
Covenants are the shape of God’s embrace.
Finally, we can learn to see Him by serving Him. “For how knoweth a man the master whom he has not served?”
A few years ago, I got a calling I didn’t feel up to. I awoke early, nervous—but with a phrase in mind I had not heard before: that to serve in this Church is to stand in the river of God’s love for His children. This Church is a work party of people with picks and shovels trying to help clear the channel for the river of God’s love to reach His children at the end of the row.
Whoever you are, whatever your past, there is room for you in this Church.
Grab a pick and shovel and join the team. Help carry His love to His children, and some of it will splash on you.
Let us seek His loving face, His covenant embrace, and then join arm in arm with His children, and together we will sing “Redeemer of Israel”:
Restore, my dear Savior,
The light of thy face;
Thy soul-cheering comfort impart;
And let the sweet longing
For thy holy place
Bring hope to my desolate heart.
May we seek His loving face and then be vessels of His mercy to His children. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Governor Ford wanted Joseph to be tried again at Carthage, Illinois, Joseph felt that if he went there, he would probably be killed, so on June 23, 1844, he rowed across the Mississippi River to avoid arrest. In a letter, Emma pleaded with him to return and surrender. Joseph also learned that some of the Saints were calling him a coward for leaving. “If my life is of no value to my friends,” he said, “it is of none to myself.” He returned to Nauvoo, and on Monday, June 24, he and the others charged in the case went to Carthage to surrender.
When they got to Carthage, they were released on bail until a circuit court judge could hear the case. Joseph and Hyrum went to talk to Governor Ford. While there, they were rearrested on charges of treason.
Joseph and Hyrum were again jailed; John Taylor and Willard Richards went with them.
On June 27, 1844, shortly after 5:00 P.M., a mob rushed up the jail stairs to the room where the prisoners were being held. The culprits tried to break through the door, but were unable to. Shooting through the door, they hit Hyrum, who fell, saying, “I am a dead man.”
Joseph went to the window where he was shot twice from inside the building and twice more from outside. He fell out of the window to the ground and died. John Taylor was shot four times and lay under a bed, severely wounded. Willard Richards was not injured during the shooting.

Earlier this year I attended the funeral of an extraordinary ordinary man—my husband’s uncle Don. One of Uncle Don’s sons shared an experience he had as a small child, shortly after his parents had purchased their first home. Because there were five small children to feed and clothe, there was not enough money to fence the yard. Taking seriously one of his divine roles as the protector of his family, Uncle Don drove a few small wooden stakes into the ground, took some string, and tied the string from stake to stake all around the yard. He then called his children to him. He showed them the stakes and string and explained to them that if they would stay on the inside of that makeshift fence, they would be safe.
One day the visiting teachers watched in disbelief as they approached the house and saw five little children standing obediently at the edge of the string, looking longingly at a ball that had bounced beyond their boundaries and out into the street. One little child ran to get their daddy, who, in response, ran and retrieved the ball.
Later in the funeral, the oldest son tearfully expressed that all he had ever hoped in this life was to be like his beloved father.

Trials of faith began for Samuel Hoglund of Sweden when family members raised questions. He went through a phase of “getting one question answered only to come across yet another one,” he explains. “My faith vacillated from one half hour to the next, until I realized this process and my need for certainty were unsustainable.” Instead of trying to resolve every relatively minor question, Samuel decided to study important questions—those critical to a solid foundation in Jesus Christ. Accompanied by prayer and scripture study, Samuel’s search, like Alba’s, taught him how much he still had to learn and brought him to more mature beliefs. “The experience strengthened my faith immensely,” he says, “and also taught me that what you truly seek you will find.”

When I was young I loved playing sports, and I have many fond memories of those days. But not all of them are pleasant. I remember one day after my football team lost a tough game, I came home feeling discouraged. My mother was there. She listened to my sad story. She taught her children to trust in themselves and each other, not blame others for their misfortunes, and give their best effort in everything they attempted.
When we fell down, she expected us to pick ourselves up and get going again. So the advice my mother gave to me then wasn’t altogether unexpected. It has stayed with me all my life.
“Joseph,” she said, “come what may, and love it.”

When Elder Gerrit W. Gong was a young man, he really wanted to play school basketball. “I practiced and practiced,” he said. “One day the coach pointed to our 6-foot-4-inch (1.93 m) all-state center and our 6-foot-2-inch (1.88 m) all-star forward and said to me, ‘I can put you on the team, but you’ll likely never play.’ I remember how kindly he then encouraged, ‘Why not try out for soccer? You’d be good.’ My family cheered when I scored my first goal.”1
Elder Gong learned that remembering the assistance of others helps us acknowledge the Savior’s hand in our lives and helps us remember that we are never alone.

Illustrations by Jess Golden
Matthew climbed into bed. He pulled a fluffy blanket up to his chin. “Is Adam coming home from the hospital tomorrow?” he asked. Matthew hadn’t seen his younger brother since Adam broke his leg and went to the hospital to get a special cast.
“Yes!” Mom said. She tucked the blanket around Matthew. “He’ll need our help. He won’t be able to move around too much because of his cast.”
“How big is it?” asked Matthew.
“It goes all the way around his waist. And it covers all of his broken leg and half of his other leg.”
“Whoa,” Matthew said. “That sounds bad.”
“It will be pretty hard for him.” Mom turned off the light. “But if we look for small and simple ways to serve him, we can help him be happy.”
Matthew was tired, but he couldn’t go to sleep. He kept thinking about all the things Adam couldn’t do in his cast. He won’t be able to play tag or hide-and-seek. Someone will have to carry him to his bed and the couch. He finally fell asleep thinking of ways he could try to help.
After school the next day, Matthew ran home from the bus stop. “Welcome home, little buddy!” Matthew yelled as he ran inside.
Adam was sitting on the couch in the family room. Matthew gave him a big hug. Adam’s cast was bright green, and it rubbed against Matthew’s arms. It was hard and scratchy.
Matthew felt sad for his brother. The cast was so big!
“So … do you want to play with me?” Matthew asked.
Adam frowned and looked down at his cast. “I can’t.”
“Sure you can! I’ll be right back.” Matthew gathered up Adam’s favorite games and toys and took them to the family room. He sat on the couch next to Adam. “We can play cars or a board game. Then maybe Dad can get your wheelchair and we can all go for a walk before dinner.”
“OK!” Adam smiled wide. “And we can play with this!” He pulled a brown teddy bear from underneath his blanket. “His name is Ruff. I got him at the hospital.”
“Awesome!” Matthew grabbed a bucket of cars. Together they turned the couch into a racetrack with giant pillow mountains and a bear cave for Ruff. They had lots of fun!
Matthew did lots of little things to help his brother. When the cast was making Adam uncomfortable, Matthew helped him move around. When Adam asked for a snack, he brought graham crackers and milk to share. They were playing a board game when Mom walked in the room.
“It looks like you’re having fun,” she said.
“Yeah!” Adam smiled. “This is the best game day ever!”
Mom hugged Matthew. “Thanks,” she whispered.
“I thought about what you said last night, about the small and simple things,” Matthew said. Then he laughed. “But there’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?” asked Mom.
“My little buddy has turned into a turtle!”
They all looked at Adam’s big green cast. Adam laughed. “I am a big green turtle!” he said.
Mom hugged Adam. “You’re the cutest turtle I’ve ever seen.”

Two weeks later I had another experience where the Spirit prepared me to help someone else. This time I was on the way home from work, driving behind a neon-green motorcycle. Suddenly I saw a large vehicle swerve across several lanes of traffic, going way too fast. The vehicle clipped the back tire of the motorcycle driving in front of me. While the vehicle swerved left and sped away, the man on the motorcycle went flying. He and his motorcycle rolled down the freeway, finally landing on the side of the road. I immediately pulled over to help. Three other cars also pulled over, but none of the adults seemed certain as to what to do. My training as both a lifeguard and an Eagle Scout kicked in, and, feeling guided by the Holy Ghost to be there at the right time, I took control of the situation. I told the other people to call 911 and assist me with the motorcycle rider.
The victim’s upper left arm had been impaled by a piece of metal tubing. He was bleeding profusely from this injury, and it was very gruesome. I had to get the bleeding stopped before he bled to death, but I didn’t have any bandages or gauze. Earlier in the day, before I had left for work, I had felt impressed to put a pocketknife in my truck. Because of this I was able to get my knife and use it to cut up my lifeguarding shirt to use as a bandage to stop the bleeding.
After the bleeding was controlled, I checked the victim’s breathing for 10 seconds. He was not breathing and did not have a pulse, so I started CPR. I did two rounds of CPR. Finally he started to cough. I tried to communicate with him, but he lost consciousness and stopped breathing. I completed two more rounds of rescue breathing and was on the third round when the paramedics arrived. The paramedics prepared him for transport. When the paramedics put the victim in the ambulance they said he was alive and stable.
It would be a cool ending to the story if I could say that I know that the man lived, but confidentiality laws prohibited me from finding out what happened to him. However, I once again went home with the knowledge that the Holy Ghost had guided me to be prepared to do my best to help someone in need.

In August 1977 my husband and I moved to Rehovot, Israel, with our three children, all less than six years old. The language was unfamiliar, few people spoke English, the food was different from what we were used to, and shopping was a challenge. We learned much during the two years we lived there.
Time moved quickly, and soon it was December. For most people in the country, December 25 was going to be just like any other day. But for our family and the small number of other Christians living in Israel, it would be Christmas.
We came to know a beautiful Jewish couple, Israel and Millie Jachobson. He had come to Israel as a refugee from his native Lithuania, and she was from South Africa. They were in their late 60s and lived in a small apartment about a mile from us. Israel worked at the Weizmann Institute of Science, where my husband also worked. They had been kind to us, inviting us to their apartment several times to celebrate various Jewish holidays.
As we prepared for Christmas that year, we wanted our children to feel the importance of celebrating the Savior’s birth. I found some brown wrapping paper and cut it into the shape of a Christmas tree. Our children colored it with green crayons. Then we glued candy to our paper tree as ornaments and taped it on the wall. We were not expecting many gifts under our tree that year. We felt alone and far away from everyone and everything we knew.
One evening just a few days before Christmas, someone knocked on our door. When we opened the door, we found Israel Jachobson standing there, holding a cake. He and his wife knew we were Christians and that the birth of Jesus Christ was important to us. They did what they thought was best and made a cake to help us celebrate the Savior’s birthday. That was a tender experience for our whole family.
That Christmas we enjoyed visiting Bethlehem and the fields around it. But nothing touched us more than the thoughtful gift of a wise man named Israel Jachobson and his kind, loving wife, Millie.

San Francisco Earthquake
Steve Gudmundson, 15, Rockwood Ward
I was trying to watch baseball, the World Series. I saw the cameras moving, and then it went black. When the television came back on the air, I remember the sportscasters were trying to announce what was happening. They started talking about the earthquake. I thought they would be able to play the rest of the game, but it was postponed. During the next day, we found out how bad it was.

Sometimes it is hard to feel this love. A young woman I know looked like she had everything going for her. She had just won a student-body election, she had auditioned for the madrigal choir and made it, and she had been chosen as the junior prom queen. She went home from school one day and threw herself on her bed in tears. Her mother asked what was wrong, and the daughter blurted out, “I feel like a failure; nobody likes me; I don’t have any talents; I can’t keep up in my classes; and besides that, I’m ugly.” No one would suspect that she was feeling insecure, lonely, and inadequate; but most teens feel this way at one time or another.

When Katy Ballenger started volunteering at Primary Children’s Medical Center in Salt Lake City, Utah, she had no idea her life would be changed forever. On her last day volunteering at the hospital, the nurses asked her to spend the day with a terminally ill boy who spoke little and who smiled even less. She read stories to him and played with him all day, and, after all her efforts, the boy laughed. He was sad to see her go at the end of the day. “I realized I had made a difference in this child’s life,” Katy says.
After experiencing the good feelings that resulted from her service, Katy decided to make a difference and continue to use the gifts her Heavenly Father had given her to serve others.

Photo illustration by Cody Bell
I entered the Provo Missionary Training Center on July 20. When I said good-bye to my family, I was confident, happy, and so excited to leave! I had heard that some people struggle in the MTC, and I was determined to not be one of those people.
However, only 10 minutes after entering the MTC, a wave of panic hit me. No matter how hard I tried to shake it off, I couldn’t change the way I felt. The reality of being away from family and friends for 18 months struck me. Could I make it that long?
For three weeks I pleaded with the Lord for help, peace, and understanding. I talked to my leaders, received blessings, and tried to have faith and wait patiently for answers. I studied diligently and tried to be obedient. I was determined to stay.
One night at the end of my third week, I was praying—pleading still—for help. The words of Isaiah, which I knew from a song, came into my mind:
“For a small moment have I forsaken thee; but with great mercies will I gather thee.
“In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment; but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy Redeemer. …
“For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee” (Isaiah 54:7–8, 10).
At that moment, I felt Heavenly Father answer my prayer by lifting this huge burden I had carried for three weeks.
During my last week at the MTC, I was perfectly and completely at peace. I felt gratitude for my Heavenly Father and for the Savior and His Atonement. I was grateful for His love, His tender mercies, and all the faithful people I served with.
The Atonement of Jesus Christ is real and powerful to save. In Preach My Gospel it says, “As your understanding of the Atonement of Jesus Christ grows, your desire to share the gospel will increase” ([2004], 2). Although I still had to face challenges out in the field, I had a witness that the Savior’s Atonement was real and that the Lord was mindful of me. I learned that God will strengthen and guide all those who humble themselves, have faith, and ask for the things they need—even, and especially, His missionaries.