Gospel Story Finder

Developing new friendships. As a newly single sister, I became aware of two widowed sisters in my ward and three others recently divorced, and we became fast friends. We get together often, usually on Friday nights. Our times together have helped us grow close. We support and encourage each other. We have fun together. One sister in the ward, who is a therapist, occasionally meets with us and helps us understand our feelings and deal with our challenges. We look for the positive side of each sister’s trying circumstances. And each of us, at one time or another, has expressed the thought that our difficulties have brought us to a new level of spiritual closeness to our Heavenly Father. Although we would not choose our trying circumstances, we acknowledge the blessings that have flowed into our lives as a result.

It seemed perfectly normal when Karen Monahan grabbed the hero’s arm. Then, right on cue, he began his solo performance. But instead of singing the words, he was signing them, telling his part of the story through deaf sign language. No one in the audience knew that Karen had squeezed firmly on Scott’s arm to let him know when to begin. No one needed to know. He performed his actions smoothly, as the other actors had throughout the show, without saying a word.
Then the curtains rushed together, but no one on stage spoke. When the curtains opened again, the cast bowed politely. Although the audience thundered its applause, 30 of the 45 performers couldn’t hear it because they are deaf. But they had communicated so effectively with the audience that nearly everyone watching cheered when the awards were announced. The Los Angeles Ward for the Deaf had won the Los Angeles California Stake roadshow competition, with awards for best acting, best costumes and set, best script, and of course, outstanding roadshow of the year.

After my family and I moved to a new state, I prayed constantly to find friends with whom I could talk about the gospel. As I prayed, I felt comforted, and a few months later I made some incredible friends. I can count on their support, and they have helped me to develop an even greater love for the gospel. I know that friends are important and they can make it easier for us to live the gospel.
Sarah P., age 16, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

After it snowed all day, my neighborhood was covered with over a foot of slushy snow. I wanted to be alone and have some time to think, so I decided to go out and shovel driveways. I knew of several elderly widows who could use the help.
I went out and walked from house to house, shoveling driveways. Suddenly, I felt the love of our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. It filled me with hope and the understanding that even though times were tough, everything would be OK. I have found that if we need help to overcome trials, one of the best ways is to help others. I also learned that if you are doing good things, you will be more receptive to the Spirit.
Jared L., Washington, USA

Sometimes it’s a well-meaning person who doesn’t understand. Do you remember the story of little Timmy, the slow learner who was taken to an ungraded school? The teacher asked why he was sent to her. He said, “I was sent because I am a moron. Teacher, what is a moron?”

The teacher said, “A moron is one who does not know all the answers.”

“I guess I’m a moron because there are a lot of things I don’t know. My father must be one, too. Just this morning at breakfast my mother told Dad that he would never learn to eat like he ought to. I like my father, though, because he always says, ‘Timmy, what do you think?’”

The teacher inquired, “What do you think, Tim?”

“Just let a bird sing two notes, and I can tell you what kind of a bird it is. I can tell you its color, what the papa looks like, how many eggs the mother lays, the color of the eggs, and how long it will take for them to hatch. I know all the birds that stay here and when and where they go. I even know when the birds are here and when they are going somewhere else.”

The teacher said, “Timmy, you’re a genius.”

Timmy said, “Teacher, you know more about me already than my teacher did last year. She never asked me what I thought; she always told me what I didn’t know. She must be a moron.”

That August, Apostle Luke S. Johnson ordained 16-year-old Erastus to be an elder. The new elder then became junior companion to Apostle William E. McLellin during a trip into New Hampshire. At Littleton they parted, and Erastus headed West, preaching on the way and performing his first baptism—Zadock Parker. That fall he “baptized many people and organized a branch of the Church in the towns of Lyman and Littleton, in New Hampshire.”

When in 1832 Joseph Smith first narrated his vision of the Father and the Son in the woods of western, New York, he told it as a story of personal repentance and forgiveness. It is a great story, a heartening story. It begins with Joseph telling us that at about age twelve he began thinking seriously about the welfare of his soul. He says that his mind became exceedingly distressed for I become convicted of my sins . . . and I felt to mourn for my own sins and for the sins of the world. Joseph tells us that he cried unto the Lord for mercy, and that the Lord heard his cry in the wilderness. Joseph's story hinges on the Savior saying to him, Joseph my son thy sins are forgiven thee, and ends with Joseph remembering that my soul was filled with love and for many days I could rejoice with great Joy and the Lord was with me.

I have five older sisters who all got married in their early twenties. Growing up, I expected my life to look just like theirs—but it didn’t. I graduated college with no fiancé or serious relationship prospects, started a career, moved back in with my parents for a while, traveled, bought a house, had amazing roommates, and charted my own course. I never felt at all excluded in my family, but there were times that I felt very single and wanted a husband and children like my sisters had.
And wasn’t that what God wanted for me too?
I wasn’t always lonely, of course. And I certainly knew that God hadn’t abandoned me—I had many amazing blessings in my life. I was able to focus on my spiritual and mental health, I volunteered and met incredible people, and I had the time and energy to serve in unique ways. When I felt discouraged, I kept telling myself that I was learning and growing and that God was aware of me.
Eventually I did get married, and it was absolutely worth the wait. A few days after our wedding, I had this very clear thought: “I am so grateful for the wait. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
I was honestly a bit surprised by this moment of revelation. Wouldn’t I have wanted to meet my husband much sooner? But for me, I was a better person and spouse because of all I had learned and experienced while waiting for this eternal blessing. I would have missed out on so much growth without that time.
Of course, one person’s timing isn’t better or worse than another’s. The timing of marriage is up to you and God, and growth can happen at any stage of life—married or unmarried, with or without children, etc. And I would continue to keep learning and growing; obviously marriage isn’t a final destination in our growth and spiritual development. But for me, there were crucial experiences that would likely not have happened under other circumstances, and I am grateful for how they have shaped who I am.

I have a sweet feeling in my heart about President Spencer W. Kimball, who was the prophet when I was baptized. He was a great influence in my life. When I was a new member, he shook my hand in São Paulo, and I have never forgotten it. At one general conference he asked the members to stay out of debt, and I decided that I would. In Brazil we have inflation and a lot of financial troubles, but I have never had debts. I am not a rich man, and my family has had many challenges. But we have always overcome them because we followed this wise advice.

Years ago, I served as a local Church leader. One of our young men, Danny, was outstanding in every way. He was obedient, kind, good, and had a great heart. However, when he graduated from high school, he started to associate with a rough crowd. He got involved in drugs, specifically methamphetamine, and traveled down the slippery slope of addiction and destruction. Before long, his appearance completely changed. He was hardly recognizable. The most significant change was in his eyes—the light in his eyes had dimmed. Several times I reached out to him, but to no avail. He wasn’t interested.
It was difficult to see this incredible young man suffer and live a life that was not him! He was capable of so much more.
Then one day, his miracle began.
He attended a sacrament meeting where his younger brother shared his testimony prior to departing for a mission. During the meeting, Danny felt something he had not felt for a long time. He felt the love of the Lord. He finally had hope.
Although he had a desire to change, it was difficult for Danny. His addictions and the accompanying guilt were almost more than he could bear.
One particular afternoon, when I was out mowing our lawn, Danny pulled up in his car unannounced. He was struggling terribly. I turned off the mower, and we sat down together in the shade of the front porch. It was then that he shared the feelings of his heart. He truly wanted to come back. However, turning away from his addictions and lifestyle was extremely difficult. Adding to this, he felt so guilty, so ashamed for falling so far. He asked, “Can I really be forgiven? Is there really a way back?”
After he poured out his heart with these concerns, we read Alma chapter 36 together:
“Yea, I did remember all my sins and iniquities. …
“Yea, … the very thought of coming into the presence of my God did rack my soul with inexpressible horror” (verses 13–14).
After those verses, Danny said, “This is exactly how I feel!”
We continued:
“While I was harrowed up by the memory of my many sins, behold, I remembered also to have heard my father prophesy unto the people concerning the coming of one Jesus Christ, a Son of God, to atone for the sins of the world. …
“And oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold” (verses 17, 20).
As we read these passages, tears began to flow. Alma’s joy was the joy he had been searching for!
We discussed that Alma had been exceptionally wicked. However, once he repented, he never looked back. He became a devoted disciple of Jesus Christ. He became a prophet! Danny’s eyes widened. “A prophet?” he said.
I simply responded, “Yes, a prophet. No pressure on you!”
We discussed that while his sins did not rise to the level of Alma’s, the same promise of complete and perfect forgiveness is made to everyone—in and through the infinite Atonement of Jesus Christ.
Danny now understood. He knew what he needed to do: he needed to begin his journey by trusting in the Lord and forgiving himself!
Danny’s mighty change of heart was nothing short of a miracle. Over time, his countenance changed, and the brightness in his eyes returned. He became temple worthy! He was finally back!
After several months, I asked Danny if he would like to submit an application to serve a full-time mission. His response was one of shock and awe.
He said, “I would love to serve a mission, but you know where I have been and the things I have done! I thought I was disqualified.”
I responded, “You may be right. However, there is nothing precluding us from making a request. If you are excused, at least you will know that you expressed a sincere desire to serve the Lord.” His eyes lit up. He was thrilled with this idea. To him this was a long shot, but it was a chance he was willing to take.
A few weeks later, and to his amazement, another miracle occurred. Danny received a call to serve a full-time mission.
A few months after Danny arrived in the mission field, I received a telephone call. His president simply said, “What is it with this young man? He is the most incredible missionary I have ever seen!” You see, this president had received a modern-day Alma the Younger.
Two years later, Danny returned home with honor, having served the Lord with all his heart, might, mind, and strength.
Following his missionary report in sacrament meeting, I returned home, only to hear a knock at the front door. There stood Danny with tears welling in his eyes. He said, “Can we talk for a minute?” We went outside to the same porch step.
He said, “President, do you think I have truly been forgiven?”
Now my tears accompanied his. Before me stood a devoted disciple of Jesus Christ who had given his all to teaching and testifying about the Savior. He was the embodiment of the healing and strengthening power of the Savior’s Atonement.
I said, “Danny! Have you looked in the mirror? Have you seen your eyes? They are filled with light, and you are beaming with the Spirit of the Lord. Of course you have been forgiven! You are amazing! Now what you need to do is move forward with your life. Don’t look back! Look forward with faith to the next ordinance.”
Danny’s miracle continues today. He married in the temple and returned to school, where he received a master’s degree. He continues to serve the Lord with honor and dignity in his callings. More important, he has become an incredible husband and a faithful father. He is a devoted disciple of Jesus Christ.
President Russell M. Nelson taught, “Without the [Savior’s] infinite Atonement, all mankind would be irretrievably lost.” Danny wasn’t lost, and neither are we to the Lord. He stands at the door to lift us, to strengthen us, and to forgive us. He always remembers to love us!

Near my home in the north woods of upper Michigan, there once stood an old turn-of-the-century home. For years it had been abandoned, its black, weather-beaten frame cracking with age and crawling with snaky tendrils of ancient vines that wrapped and coiled themselves across the windows and around the doors. Various out-buildings were scattered here and there, but they were barely distinguishable beneath the creeping tangle of brush and brier. The house towered three stories high and cast a forbidding shadow on the bleached and withered ground. This shadow had spread throughout the community and entered the fearful heart of every child around.

When I entered the ninth grade, however, I decided it was time to get over being frightened of the old place. I wondered if perhaps I couldn’t use it for a party. Now, being the only Latter-day Saint in my high school, I had heard and tolerated some pretty cruel things. I figured I could stand up to jokes and criticism for not smoking and drinking, but what I couldn’t take was hearing over and over again about how Mormons just didn’t know how to really have fun at parties. Because of that, my bishop (who was also my dad and a biology professor at the nearby university) came up with an idea to prove my friends wrong. On Halloween night he would temporarily move into the local neighborhood haunted house. But by then—thanks to the efforts of my dad, brother, and missionaries—it would be transformed into a terrifying realm of horror and fright. According to plan I invited about 20 of my closest nonmember friends. Since all of them lived in town, about six miles away, I assumed none of them had ever heard of the old Sutinen home. I assumed correctly.

At 7:00 the party began at my house; and after about an hour of games, pizza, and root beer, I suggested we visit a poor old man named Toivo. I explained he lived alone but always had treats ready for any trick-or-treater who dared venture down the lonely, overgrown trail that led to his home. My suggestion was enthusiastically received until they saw Mr. Sutinen’s home. Even I, who knew my dad waited within, felt a shiver of fear creep along my spine, like a spider on a web of nerves. We approached cautiously toward where the house loomed up, outlined starkly against the moonlit sky. To add to the eerie effect, a single light flickered from behind the drawn curtains. Ghostly wisps of fog clawed at our legs, and branches whipped wickedly against our faces. We were considering bravely marching on, when shrill laughter split the tomblike quiet. Some of the group turned, running wildly for home, while the rest huddled near and bombarded me with questions. “Are you sure this is the right house?” “How long have you known this man?” “Are you positive he’s harmless?” and finally, “If this is a joke, you’re gonna be sorry!”

Reassuring them that everything was fine, I boldly knocked upon the blistered door. Like something out of a horror movie, the door slowly creaked open, and I gazed into the red-rimmed eyes of a madman. With a start I realized this white-haired maniac was my father!

“Trick-or-treat,” my friends whispered as Toivo Sutinen ushered us into his parlor. This room was dimly lit by two flickering candles perched on large polished skulls. Nice touch, Dad, I thought as I gazed at the skulls, the cobwebs, and the coffin set back in a corner.

“Wall now, ain’t dis a surprise. Ten purdy gerls cum ta visit ol’ me,” muttered Mr. Sutinen in a slurred drawl. “Ah was jist gunna eat ma supper. Join me, hey?”

Carol, the Good Samaritan of our group, slapped “old” Toivo on the shoulder and heartily agreed. The rest warily glanced around. And Mary, still hovering near the door, asked the question on everyone’s mind. “Uh, Mr. Sutinen, what were you planning to eat?”

“Why, ma favorite,” happily responded Mr. Sutinen, “barbecued bat wings!”

Too late we noticed the dozens of murky specimen bottles crowding the counters and shelves of the kitchen.

“Unless, of course,” finished Mr. Sutinen, whacking something near him, “you want ta wait until Mabel here thaws out.”

Looking up, we saw a row of frozen cats hanging stiffly from the rafters!

This, of course, made sense when one remembered my dad was a professor of biology and used such things in his labs. But to my friends it was a ghastly spectacle and required a hasty exit by the nearest door—which was locked! Mary promptly began to cry, and several others looked like they wanted to. I begged my friends to stay and humor this crazy old man a little while longer, and they agreed.

“Wall, ah kin see yer not hungry,” cheerfully said the old man, picking up one of the candle skulls. “Why don’t ah take you on a tour of ma home?”

Happily accepting any excuse to leave the kitchen and its occupants, we followed Toivo Sutinen up the rickety, wooden steps and into a narrow hall.

“First room on the left here was ma dear Mildred’s” explained Toivo opening the door wide and allowing us to enter.

Except for a dusty end table on which lay a bloodstained knife, everything in this room was covered with enormous sheets. Avoiding eye contact with the knife, we halfheartedly listened to Mr. Sutinen reminisce about his dear departed wife. Uncomfortably we began to realize he was talking about Mildred as if she were still alive.

“Yep, ma heart was near broke, couldn’t stand it no more. So went out late one night and brought ma Mildred back home.”

With a flourish, Mr. Sutinen pulled back the bed sheet. And there, in all her skeletal beauty, lay the former “Mrs. Sutinen”!

That was too much; my dad had gone too far! Screaming frantically we ran from the bedroom and down the stairs. We must have triggered something because as we ran ghosts in Victorian dress swooped past, bats squeaked, and howls echoed through the empty corridors. The door was now wide open, but as we bounded down the steep steps, something huge and hairy jumped out from behind a nearby tree.

I don’t remember much after that except a lot of screaming and running. Within minutes we were safely back in the security of my home, breathlessly reliving each terrifying moment. My mother insisted I tell my friends the truth, but it took some doing to convince them crazy Toivo was not only my father but the “minister” of my church.

Later, when my dad, brother, and the missionaries returned, everyone wanted to ask them questions. I’m not sure that much gospel doctrine got discussed that night, but all in all the experience had a positive effect on my friends. Two of them later joined the Church and four others seriously considered it. The greatest result, however, was that from then on there wasn’t a single Church activity that wasn’t attended by as many nonmembers as members.

Another example of a true disciple of Jesus Christ is a dear friend of ours in Côte d’Ivoire in West Africa. This wonderful, faithful sister suffered terrible emotional, and even some physical, abuse from her husband over a sustained period of time, and eventually they divorced. She never wavered in her faith and goodness, but because of his cruelty to her, she was deeply hurt for a long time. In her own words, she describes what happened:
“Though I said I forgave him, I always slept with a wound; I spent my days with that wound. It was like a burn in my heart. Many times I prayed to the Lord to take it away from me, but it hurt so bad that I strongly believed I was going to spend the rest of my life with it. It hurt more than when I lost my mom at a young age; it hurt more than when I lost my dad and even my son. It seemed to expand and cover my heart, giving me the impression I was going to even die at any time.
“Some other times I asked myself what the Savior would have done in my situation, and I would rather say, ‘This is too much, Lord.’
“Then one morning I looked for the pain that comes from all this in my heart and went deeper, looking for it in my soul. It was nowhere to be found. My mind quickly passed to review all the reasons I [had] to feel hurt, but I did not feel the pain. I waited the whole day to see if I was going to feel the pain in my heart; I did not feel it. Then I knelt down and thanked God for making the atoning sacrifice of the Lord work for me.”6
This sister is now happily sealed to a wonderful, faithful man who loves her deeply.

When my sister Janalee and I built our cabin, we decided it would be a hunter’s cabin. We found a big rock up on a hill and leaned some branches up against it and covered the two openings with old gunnysacks. We could go in and sit real quiet, and no one would ever know we were there.
We built our cabin because we wanted to catch a cougar. We knew there were cougars in the mountains because our neighbor, Brother Poole, caught one. He keeps its pelt on the floor in his house and says it’s a rug, but he doesn’t ever let anybody walk on it.
Ever since seeing that old cougar skin, though, I wanted to catch my own cougar, and Janalee said she would help. Dad made me the neatest flipper—that’s what most people I know call a slingshot—and I have my own BB gun. I can shoot that BB gun better than anyone. Well, almost anyone. Janalee is probably just a little better, but she keeps quiet about it.
My sister can shoot straighter, play ball better, and run faster than me or any of my friends. Since I don’t have a brother to do things with, it sure is nice to have a sister like Janalee.
Well, one morning Janalee and I took my BB gun and flipper and headed up to our cabin to hunt cougars.
“Do you really think we’ll catch a cougar, Jonathan?” Janalee asked as we puffed up the mountain.
“Brother Poole did,” I said. “If he can, we sure can.”
“It’ll be nice to have a pet cougar to take care of.”
“A pet?” I grunted. “He isn’t going to be any pet. We’re going to make him into a rug like Brother Poole’s.”
“A rug? What good’s an old rug that nobody can walk on? A pet would be lots better.”
“Whoever heard of a pet cougar?” I said, rolling my eyes. “But before we catch any cougars, we need to practice hunting smaller things.”
We crawled into our little cabin and rested for a minute and ate some oatmeal cookies Mom had given to us.
“What are we going to hunt first?” Janalee asked as she picked the raisins out of her oatmeal cookie and dropped them on the ground. She doesn’t like raisins.
“There are some magpies in those maple trees behind us,” I said. “Maybe we should try shooting them.”
Just then my friend Joe poked his head in and grinned. “What’re you doing?”
“We’re going to go hunting,” Janalee told him. “Want to come?”
“Sure. I even have my flipper.”
I handed the BB gun to Janalee, saying, “You take this.”
Joe and I filled our pockets with rocks. We could hear those old magpies talking a mile a minute. We started sneaking through the bushes and trees so that we could take those noisy old birds by surprise.
“There’s one,” Janalee whispered. “Isn’t he pretty? He has such a beautiful long tail and such shiny black feathers.”
“OK, Jonathan,” Joe said, “let’s kill it.”
“Kill it!” Janalee cried out, jumping up and scaring the magpie away. “Why do you want to kill it? It hasn’t done anything to anybody.”
“Now look what you’ve done,” Joe growled.
“What’d you think we were going to do with it?” I asked. “That’s what hunters do—kill birds and cougars and things.”
“Well, that’s dumb,” Janalee said, putting her hands on her hips. “What good’s a dead magpie?”
“What good’s a live magpie?” Joe asked. “My dad says they’re no good at all.”
“Well, I think they’re pretty. That’s a good enough reason not to kill them. Besides, the prophet has asked us not to shoot the little birds.”
“Oh, brother!” Joe muttered. “Why’d you bring her along? Girls don’t know anything about hunting, Jonathan. Maybe she ought to go back to the cabin so she won’t get hurt.”
I looked at Janalee and then at Joe and then down at the ground. “Maybe Janalee’s right,” I said. “We don’t have to kill the magpies. There are other things.”
“You too?” Joe groaned. “I’m not hunting with a girl. Girls can’t shoot.”
There was an old tin can lying on the ground. I picked it up and set it on a fallen tree trunk. “Back up a few steps,” I called to Joe and Janalee. They moved backward. “Now, let’s see which one of you can knock the can off the tree trunk.”
Joe snickered. “She’ll miss it a mile.” He put a rock into his flipper, pulled back hard, chewed on his tongue a little, aimed, and let the rock fly. It came close, but it didn’t hit the can. “Let’s see you come that close,” Joe challenged Janalee.
Janalee didn’t say anything. She got my flipper, looked around until she found a round, smooth rock, then went back to where Joe was standing. She tucked the rock inside the flipper’s leather pouch, pulled back, aimed, and let the rock fly. It hit the can and knocked it off the tree trunk.
“Lucky shot,” Joe muttered, his face all red.
“Do it again, then,” I said. And they did. In fact, they did it three more times. Janalee didn’t miss once. Joe nicked the can on his second shot, but he didn’t knock it off.
“Do you want to try the BB gun?” I asked.
Joe glared at me and shook his head. “I guess she can stay,” he mumbled. “But let’s get to hunting. We’re just wasting time here.”
We started tromping through the trees, and just past a clump of cedar trees we spied a skunk. Right behind it were three baby skunks. I’d seen skunks before, but not a family of them. Joe and I reached for our flippers.
“Which one shall we shoot,” Joe whispered.
“How about the big one?” I whispered back, loading my flipper.
“The big one?” Janalee gasped, grabbing my shoulder. “That’s the mom!”
“Do you want us to kill one of the babies then?” I asked, shaking off her hand.
“I don’t want you to kill any of them.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, brother!” Joe grumped. “I bet she thinks they’re pretty.”
I looked at Janalee; she had her hands on her hips again. I looked at the skunks. A couple of them were sniffing around in some weeds. They really were kind of pretty.
“What’s the use of hunting if you can’t kill something once in a while?” Joe asked.
“We can watch them,” Janalee said. “That’s lots more fun.”
So we sat and watched the skunks for a while. I didn’t tell Janalee, but it really was kind of fun watching those babies follow their mom and play around in the weeds. And when they finally ambled off, I was glad we hadn’t hurt them.
“Let’s go back to the cabin for a while,” I said. “I still have two oatmeal cookies. We can split them and plan our next hunt.”
“If we want to have a real hunt,” Joe grumbled, “we’d better split with your sister.”
Just as we got to the cabin, we saw a squirrel scrambling out the other side. It had been eating the raisins Janalee had picked out of her cookie.
“Let’s get it.” Joe mouthed the words. He looked at Janalee and groaned, “Oh, boy.”
The squirrel scampered over to a pile of rocks, sat up on its hind legs, and watched us.
“Now you scared it away,” Janalee said, shaking her finger at Joe.
“So? You wouldn’t have let us kill it anyway,” he said.
“Of course not. Who’d want to hurt a little squirrel?”
“I could still get it from here,” Joe said to me. “It’s just sitting there.”
I looked at Janalee.
“Give me a cookie,” she said.
I handed her one, and she crumbled it onto a rock a few feet from us. Then she said, “Let’s go back in the bushes and watch.”
Joe grumbled, but he went with us. We’d hardly gotten settled before the squirrel scampered over to the rock and started eating the cookie crumbs.
Just then Zeke, Brother Arnold’s dog, bounded into sight. That squirrel saw the dog, dropped to all fours, and made a mad scramble for the rocks, with Zeke right behind it.
I just sat there staring, but Janalee didn’t. She grabbed my flipper and a rock, took aim, and let the rock fly. It made a beeline for Zeke’s behind. He let out a yelp and tore out of there.
“No old dog is going to hurt our animals!” Janalee yelled.
“Some hunters we are,” Joe moaned. “We can’t shoot at birds or skunks or squirrels, and when a good hunting dog comes around, we chase him off. I’ve never heard of hunters like that.”
“Well, we’re not ordinary hunters,” Janalee said, handing the flipper back to me.
“What kind of hunters are we?” I asked.
Janalee said, “We’ll make this an animal preserve. We’ll protect the animals, like policemen, making sure nobody or nothing hurts them. And we’ll bring food to them. That’s the kind of hunters we’ll be.”
Joe frowned. Finally he said, “If we’re policemen, who’s going to be the captain?”
“Whoever will protect the animals and birds and treat them right,” Janalee told him.
Joe picked up a rock and tossed it at a bushy cedar. “I can do that.”
“Then you can be the captain of our preserve,” Janalee told him, beaming.
“Really?” When Janalee and I nodded, he said, “All right then. You two go home and get some bread crumbs, and I’ll get some lettuce and things from Mom. Meet me back here as soon as you can. We can’t leave this place unprotected very long. Zeke might be back.”
“What about my cougar?” I wanted to know.
Janalee grinned. “Well, if he’ll behave himself, we’ll let him come too. We might even be able to find a piece of meat for him.”
As we headed down the mountain, I was glad I had a sister like Janalee. She’s as good as a brother any day.

For centuries, black powder was the most powerful explosive available. It could launch cannon balls, but it wasn’t effective for most mining and road construction projects. It was just too weak to shatter rock.
In 1846 an Italian chemist named Ascanio Sobrero synthesized a new explosive, nitroglycerin. This oily fluid was at least a thousand times more powerful than black powder. It could easily shatter rock. Unfortunately, nitroglycerin was unstable. If you dropped it from a small height, it’d blow up. If it got too hot, it’d blow up. If it got too cold, it’d blow up. Even placed in a cool, dark room and left alone, it’d eventually blow up. Most countries banned its transportation, and many banned its manufacture.
In 1860 a Swedish scientist named Alfred Nobel began trying to stabilize nitroglycerin. After seven years of experimentation, he achieved his goal by absorbing nitroglycerin into a nearly worthless substance known as diatomaceous earth, or kieselguhr. Kieselguhr is a porous rock that can be crumbled into a fine powder. When mixed with nitroglycerin, kieselguhr absorbs the nitroglycerin, and the resultant paste can be shaped into “sticks.” In this form, nitroglycerin was much more stable. It could be safely stored, transported, and used with undiminished explosive power. Nobel named the combination of nitroglycerin and kieselguhr “dynamite.”
Dynamite changed the world. It also made Nobel wealthy. Without a stabilizer, nitroglycerin was just too hazardous to be commercially valuable, as Ascanio Sobrero found out. By itself, as I mentioned, kieselguhr was of little value. But the combination of the two components made dynamite transformative and precious.
In a similar way, the combination of the gospel of Jesus Christ and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints provides powerful and transformative benefits for us. The gospel is perfect, but a divinely commissioned church is required to preach it, maintain its purity, and administer its sacred ordinances with the Savior’s power and authority.
Consider the combination of the Savior’s gospel and His Church as established by the Book of Mormon prophet Alma. The Church was responsible for preaching “nothing save it were repentance and faith on the Lord, who [would redeem] his people.” Using God’s authority, the Church was responsible for administering the ordinance of baptism “in the name of the Lord, as a witness [of entering] into a covenant with him [to] serve him and keep his commandments.” The people who were baptized took on themselves the name of Jesus Christ, joined His Church, and were promised great power through an outpouring of the Spirit.
People flocked to the Waters of Mormon to hear Alma preach the gospel. Though they revered those waters and the surrounding forests, the Lord’s Church was not a location or a building, nor is it today. The Church is simply ordinary people, disciples of Jesus Christ, gathered and organized into a divinely appointed structure that helps the Lord accomplish His purposes. The Church is the instrument through which we learn the central role of Jesus Christ in Heavenly Father’s plan. The Church offers the authoritative way for individuals to participate in ordinances and make lasting covenants with God. Keeping those covenants draws us closer to God, gives us access to His power, and transforms us into who He intends us to become.
Just as dynamite without nitroglycerin is unremarkable, the Savior’s Church is special only if it is built on His gospel. Without the Savior’s gospel and the authority to administer the ordinances thereof, the Church isn’t exceptional.
Without the stabilizing effect of kieselguhr, nitroglycerin had limited value as an explosive. As history has shown, without the Lord’s Church, humanity’s understanding of His gospel was likewise unstable—prone to doctrinal drift and subject to the influence of different religions, cultures, and philosophies. An amalgamation of those influences has been manifested in every dispensation leading up to this last one. Though the gospel was initially revealed in its purity, the interpretation and application of that gospel gradually took on a form of godliness that lacked power because the divinely authorized framework was absent.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints enables access to God’s power because it is authorized by Him both to teach the doctrine of Christ and to offer the gospel’s saving and exalting ordinances. The Savior yearns to forgive our sins, help us access His power, and transform us. He suffered for our sins and longs to pardon us from the punishment that we otherwise would deserve. He wants us to become holy and be perfected in Him.
Jesus Christ has the power to do this. He didn’t simply sympathize with our imperfections and lament our eternal condemnation in consequence of sin. No, He went beyond that, infinitely beyond that, and restored His Church to enable access to His power.
The core of the gospel that the Church teaches is that Jesus Christ bore “our griefs, and carried our sorrows.” He had “laid on him the iniquity of us all.” He “endured the cross,” broke “the bands of death,” “ascended into heaven, and … sat down on the right hand of God, to claim of the Father his rights of mercy.” The Savior did all this because He loves His Father and He loves us. He has already paid the infinite price so He can “[claim] all those who have faith in him [and advocate]” for them—for us. Jesus Christ wants nothing more than for us to repent and come unto Him so that He can justify and sanctify us. In this desire, He is relentless and unwavering.
The access to God’s covenantal power and His covenantal love is through His Church. The combination of the Savior’s gospel and His Church transforms our lives. It transformed my maternal grandparents. My grandfather Oskar Andersson worked in a shipyard on Högmarsö, an island in the Stockholm archipelago. His wife, Albertina, and their children lived on the Swedish mainland. Once every two weeks, on Saturday, Oskar rowed his boat home for the weekend before returning to Högmarsö on Sunday evening. One day, while on Högmarsö, he heard two American missionaries preach the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. Oskar felt that what he heard was pure truth, and he was filled with unspeakable joy.
The next time he returned home, Oskar excitedly told Albertina all about the missionaries. He explained that he believed what they taught. He asked her to read the pamphlets they had given him, and he told her that he didn’t think that any of their future children should be baptized as infants. Albertina was furious and threw the pamphlets on the rubbish heap. Not much was said between them before Oskar returned to work on Sunday evening.
As soon as he was gone, Albertina retrieved those pamphlets. She carefully compared their doctrine with the teachings in her well-worn Bible. She was astonished to feel that what she read was true. The next time Oskar returned home, he received a warm welcome, as did the copy of the Book of Mormon he brought with him. Albertina eagerly read, again comparing the doctrine to that in her Bible. Like Oskar, she recognized pure truth and was filled with unspeakable joy.
Oskar, Albertina, and their children moved to Högmarsö to be close to the few Church members there. A week after Oskar and Albertina were baptized in 1916, Oskar was called to be the group leader on Högmarsö. Like many converts, Oskar and Albertina faced criticism because of their new faith. Local farmers refused to sell them milk, so Oskar rowed across the fjord every day to purchase milk from a more tolerant farmer.
Yet during the ensuing years, Church membership on Högmarsö increased, in part because of Albertina’s powerful testimony and burning missionary zeal. When the group became a branch, Oskar was called as the branch president.
Members of that Högmarsö branch revered that island. This was their Waters of Mormon. This was where they came to a knowledge of their Redeemer.
Over the years, as they kept their baptismal covenant, Oskar and Albertina were transformed by the power of Jesus Christ. They longed to make more covenants and receive their temple blessings. To obtain those blessings, they permanently emigrated from their home in Sweden to Salt Lake City in 1949. Oskar had served as the leader of the members on Högmarsö for 33 years.
The combination of nitroglycerin and kieselguhr made dynamite valuable; the combination of the gospel of Jesus Christ and His Church is beyond price. Oskar and Albertina heard about the restored gospel because a prophet of God had called, assigned, and sent missionaries to Sweden. By divine commission, missionaries taught the doctrine of Christ and by priesthood authority baptized Oskar and Albertina. As members, Oskar and Albertina continued learning, developing, and serving others. They became Latter-day Saints because they kept the covenants they made.
The Savior refers to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as “my church” because He commissioned it to accomplish His purposes—preaching His gospel, offering His ordinances and covenants, and making it possible for His power to justify and sanctify us. Without His Church, there is no authority, no preaching of revealed truths in His name, no ordinances or covenants, no manifestation of the power of godliness, no transformation into who God wants us to become, and God’s plan for His children is set at naught. The Church in this dispensation is integral to His plan.
I invite you to commit yourself more fully to the Savior, His gospel, and His Church. As you do so, you will find that the combination of the Savior’s gospel and His Church brings power into your life. This power is far greater than dynamite. It’ll shatter the rocks in your way, transform you into an inheritor in God’s kingdom. And you will be “filled with that joy which is unspeakable and full of glory.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

The year I turned eleven, I went on a three-day camp-out with my friend Don, my older brother, and my dad. And Bear. Bear is our black and white Border collie. He loves to run and chase outdoors.
We had a great time on that trip with Bear. We camped on a big cattle ranch among a lot of sagebrush and lava rock, and near a good fishing creek.
My brother, Nick, and I took Bear down to the creek every day. Bear loves to play in the water. He must think he’s fishing, but he sure doesn’t fish like the rest of us. He puts his left paw in the water and splashes all over the place. He also snaps at the water with his mouth. He makes such a commotion in the water that I’m sure that all the fish are soon at least ten miles downstream.
The last morning we were there, my brother and I left Bear at camp so we could do some real fishing at the creek. Don and Dad stayed in camp to clean up after breakfast.
After a little while Don came down to the creek. “Hey, Mike,” he said. “Your dog is dead.”
“He is not!”
“Well, he’s nearly dead. A rattlesnake bit him.”
My brother and I ran for camp as fast as we could. Don ran after us.
Sure enough, by the time we got to camp, Bear was lying real still by Dad’s tent. Dad had killed the rattlesnake, but there didn’t seem to be much he could do for Bear.
Bear had been bitten twice on the nose. It was swollen really bad, and he was barely breathing.
I started to cry. I didn’t know what to do. My brother started to cry, too, but he knew what to do. “Dad, can we say a prayer for Bear?”
My dad nodded. “Bear is a very sick dog,” he said. “You can say a prayer for Bear, but are you willing to accept it if he doesn’t live?”
“Yes,” my brother said. I could only nod.
All four of us gathered in a semicircle around Bear. Dad looked over at my big brother. “Nick,” he said. “I would like you to say the prayer because you have so much faith.”
I don’t remember what my brother said in his prayer, but I remember how I felt kneeling there with my head bowed.
When the prayer was over, Bear got up. He walked around a little, and then he ran. He seemed happy to be alive.
I was happy! I was so happy that I kept hugging Bear over and over. My big brother just stood there and cried some more. I didn’t understand then why he was crying when we were all so happy. I did understand one thing though—I knew that my brother had a lot of faith in prayer. And so did I.

Jackson stayed close to Mom as they walked into their neighbors’ storage room. It was dark in there. Something brushed across his face, and he jumped.
“Just a little cobweb, Jackson,” Mom said. She bent down and picked up a cardboard box. “Here it is.”
Inside were Mrs. Karras’s wreath and a small nativity set. Jackson helped set them out for her every year while Dad and Grandpa put up the Christmas lights outside.
Jackson carried the box upstairs. He saw Mrs. Karras sitting in her wheelchair in front of the window. Careful not to trip on the cords from her oxygen tank, Jackson placed the box at her feet.
Mrs. Karras made a tiny noise in her throat and pointed outside. Carter and Kennedy, Jackson’s little brother and sister, were rolling in the snow and throwing snowballs at their big yellow dog. Madison, Jackson’s older sister, was handing a string of lights to Dad.
“This would be fun,” Jackson thought, “if it didn’t take all day.”
Not sure what he should say to Mrs. Karras, he put on his hat and mittens and went out to help.
“Jackson, grab me that step stool from the truck,” Grandpa called to him.
“Can you bring me the electrical tape off the front seat?” Dad asked.
“And then come hold these lights for Dad,” Madison ordered.
“Next the dog will be bossing me,” Jackson thought. But he got the stool and the tape, and he took the lights from Madison so she could go warm up inside.
Soon Grandpa walked over and handed him another string. “Even more lights this year than last year,” he said. “It’s going to be quite a display.”
“Why does Mr. Karras keep buying more lights?” Jackson asked.
“Well, he knows they make his wife happy,” Grandpa said, nodding in the direction of the window. “Since she is sick, he does all he can for her.”
Jackson looked to the window and saw that Mr. Karras had pulled a chair next to his wife. He seemed to always be sitting by her and talking to her, even though she couldn’t talk back.
When the last light was strung, Jackson carried the empty boxes back to the storage room. Walking back, he heard Mom telling Mrs. Karras about one of their Christmas traditions.
“On Christmas Eve we sit around the tree, with all its pretty lights, and we share stories about how God’s light has touched us, and the ways we feel and share His love.”
Jackson smiled. He was glad to help Mr. and Mrs. Karras.
That evening after dinner, Dad said, “Time to make sure all those lights came on.”
The family got into the car and Dad drove through town to the top of a hill. In the darkness below, the Karrases’ house was easy to spot.
“Wow,” Jackson whispered.
Lights wrapped around the large pine tree, traced the roofline of the house, and twinkled along the fence. Every bush and every window shone.
“I bet Mrs. Karras is looking out right now, just smiling and smiling,” Madison said.
“I think so too,” Mom agreed.
All at once, Jackson knew what he would talk about when they sat around their tree on Christmas Eve. It seemed to him that all those little Christmas lights were glowing in his heart.

Mabuhay! I bring to you love and warm smiles from the wonderful Saints of the Philippines. This year marks 60 years since the first missionaries arrived in the islands of the Philippines. Today there are 23 missions and more than 800,000 members of the Church in 123 stakes. There are now seven temples in operation, under construction, or announced. This is truly a miracle. We are witnessing the fulfillment of the prophecy in 2 Nephi 10:21: “Great are the promises of the Lord unto them who are upon the isles of the sea.”
This miracle is also a fulfillment of the prophecy given in a prayer by then-Elder Gordon B. Hinckley in Manila in 1961. In that prayer, Elder Hinckley stated: “We invoke Thy blessings upon the people of this land, that they shall be friendly and hospitable and kind and gracious to those who shall come here, and that many, yea, Lord, we pray that there shall be [many,] many thousands who shall receive this message and be blessed thereby. Wilt Thou bless them with receptive minds and understanding hearts, and with faith to receive, and with courage to live the principles of the gospel” (dedicatory prayer at American War Memorial Cemetery, Philippines, Apr. 28, 1961).
Beyond the many, many thousands of faithful Latter-day Saints, the miracle of the gospel has brought positive changes to the country and its people. I am a living witness of this. I was six years old when my parents joined the Church in the southern island of Mindanao. At that time, there was only one mission in the entire country and no stakes. I am eternally grateful for my parents’ courage and commitment to follow the Savior. I honor them and all the pioneers of the Church in the Philippines. They paved the way for the succeeding generations to be blessed.
King Benjamin in the Book of Mormon said: “And moreover, I would desire that ye should consider on the blessed and happy state of those that keep the commandments of God. For behold, they are blessed in all things, both temporal and spiritual” (Mosiah 2:41).
As we live and obey the principles and ordinances of the gospel, we are blessed, changed, and converted to becoming more like Jesus Christ. That was how the gospel changed and blessed the Filipino Saints, including my family. The gospel is truly the way to a happy, abundant life.
The first principle of the gospel is faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Many Filipinos have a natural belief in God. It is easy for us to trust Jesus Christ and know that we can receive answers to our prayers.
The Obedoza family is a great example of this. Brother Obedoza was my branch president when I was a young man. Brother and Sister Obedoza’s greatest desire was to be sealed to their family in the Manila Temple. They lived in General Santos City, 1,000 miles (1,600 km) away from Manila. For the family of nine, making the journey to the temple seemed impossible. But like the merchant man who went and sold all he had to buy one pearl of great price (see Matthew 13:45–46), this couple decided to sell their house to pay for the trip. Sister Obedoza was worried because they would have no home to return to. But Brother Obedoza assured her that the Lord would provide.
They were sealed as a family for time and all eternity in the temple in 1985. In the temple they found joy incomparable—their priceless pearl. And true to Brother Obedoza’s words, the Lord did provide. On their return from Manila, kind acquaintances gave them places to stay, and they eventually acquired their own home. The Lord takes care of those who demonstrate their faith in Him.
The second principle of the gospel is repentance. Repentance is turning away from sin and turning to God for forgiveness. It is a change of mind and heart. As President Russell M. Nelson teaches, it is “doing and being a little better each day” (“We Can Do Better and Be Better,” Ensign or Liahona, May 2019, 67).
Repentance is a lot like soap. As a young chemical engineer, I worked in a soap factory in the Philippines. I learned how to make soap and the process of how it works. When you mix oils with an alkali base and add antibacterial agents, it creates a powerful substance that can eliminate bacteria and viruses. Like soap, repentance is a cleaning agent. It allows us the opportunity to get rid of our impurities and our old debris so we are worthy to be with God, as “no unclean thing can inherit the kingdom of [God]” (Alma 11:37).
Through repentance we draw upon the cleansing, sanctifying power of Jesus Christ. It is a key part of the process of conversion. This is what happened to the Anti-Nephi-Lehies in the Book of Mormon. They were Lamanites who were so completely converted that they “never did fall away” (see Alma 23:6–8). They buried their weapons of war and never took them up again. They would rather die than break that covenant. And they proved it. We know that their sacrifice brought miracles; thousands who fought against them threw down their weapons and were converted. Years later their sons, who we know as the mighty stripling warriors, were protected in battle against incredible odds!
My family and many Filipino Saints went through a similar conversion process. When we accepted the gospel of Jesus Christ and joined the Church, we changed our ways and our culture to align to the gospel. We had to let go of wrong traditions. I saw this in my father when he learned of the gospel and repented. He was a heavy smoker, but he threw his cigarettes away and never touched one again. Because of his decision to change, four generations from him have been blessed.
Repentance leads us to make and keep covenants through sacred ordinances. The first ordinance of salvation and exaltation is baptism by immersion for the remission of sins. Baptism allows us to receive the gift of the Holy Ghost and enter into a covenant with the Lord. We can renew this baptismal covenant every week as we take the sacrament. This too is a miracle!
Brothers and sisters, I invite you to bring this miracle into your life. Come unto Jesus Christ and choose to exercise your faith in Him; repent and make and keep the covenants found in the ordinances of salvation and exaltation. This will allow you to be yoked with Christ and receive the power and blessings of godliness (see Doctrine and Covenants 84:20).
I testify of the reality of Jesus Christ and that He lives and loves each one of us. I know that His gospel can bring us hope, peace, and joy, not only now, but it will also bless countless others in future generations. That is the reason for the beautiful and warm smiles of the Filipino Saints. It is the miracle of the gospel and the doctrine of Christ. I testify of this in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

A few days later, we fasted along with our extended family members. For the first time in a while, I felt like fasting in faith made sense. I had faith in the Savior and knew that whatever His will, we could get through it with His help.
We went forward with the treatment, and, amazingly, we soon found out we were pregnant. We were so excited. I felt with my whole heart that God truly is a God of miracles!
A few days later, we learned we were going to lose the baby. All our joy was suddenly replaced with sadness. But because of the experiences I’d had learning about miracles, I felt a sense of peace. I knew that through the Savior’s Atonement we would get through this—I had felt that strongly just a few days before. And the fact that we could get pregnant gave us guidance in the coming months.

As a returned missionary, busy with a young family and my own company, I was called to be the president of a good-sized branch with many faithful and mature members. Did I feel prepared, trained, and educated to start serving? No! I had good counselors with whom I could discuss issues. But was their help enough? No!
Thinking back on that calling and on other callings, I realize that in addition to the Holy Ghost and the scriptures, what really helped me were the Church handbooks! They were a treasure of information—as a guide to my initial learning and as a valuable reference along the way.

Terri is a fluffy pet that resembles a small dust mop. She is very quiet. Although Terri does not bark or meow, she jumps, scoots, and crawls as she follows her owner around the house.
Terri was bought in a pet shop. She is black and has orange circlets on her legs. Quiet and well mannered, she has never been mistreated and has had no reason to bite. Terri’s owner says she thinks that her tarantula would bite if she were tormented. “The needlelike fangs can hurt about like a bee’s stinger, but the bite is not poisonous unless you are allergic to it.”
Terri seems to like attention. She will scrunch down on the floor and wait for her owner to caress her glossy black head.
A tarantula seems to know when there is danger. If a strange dog comes into the room, Terri scoots behind the sofa. When the dog leaves, she jumps happily back into the middle of the room.