Gospel Story Finder

At about that same time, I was invited to a lunch for all of the Relief Society sisters in my ward who had read either the Book of Mormon or a short Church history book. I had become casual in my scripture reading, so I qualified to attend the luncheon by reading the short book because it was easier and took less time. As I was eating my lunch, I had a powerful feeling that though the history book was a good one, I should have read the Book of Mormon. The Holy Ghost was prompting me to change my scripture reading habits. That very day I began to read the Book of Mormon, and I have never stopped reading it. Though I do not consider myself to be an expert, I truly love reading all the scriptures, and I am grateful I started the lifetime habit of reading them. It would be impossible to learn the lessons the scriptures contain by reading them only one time through or studying selected verses in a class.

When fall came, Nese left to attend Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. I returned to Berkeley, California. Loneliness encompassed me again. Nese’s letters arrived regularly, two or three times weekly. I asked her why she was Mormon. The next letter bulged the envelope. It was a detailed explanation of her struggle to remain active and maintain a firm testimony while living with her inactive family.
I decided I had to go to church. That was a difficult decision because no one pushed me to attend. I had been allowed to come to the conclusion by myself.
I nearly changed my mind when I opened the door. I entered the chapel by myself, spotted an empty seat on the back row, and quickly sat down. Was I going to be all alone here, too? I wondered inside.
Then suddenly Karen, who had appeared from nowhere, was shaking my hand. “Good morning, David,” she said, grinning. I wasn’t alone anymore. She introduced me to people, showed me which class to go to, and sat beside me the entire time.
I was impressed to find a class I could bring my questions to and get answers. Furthermore, the teacher, Sister Booras, took time afterwards to thank me for coming. “You added a great deal to our class,” she said. I had never felt so at home before.
But I still didn’t have that spiritual testimony of the Church; I could believe in many of its teachings, but I didn’t know it was true. I kept attending the meetings anyway.
One month later, Nese urged me to come to Brigham Young University. I jumped at the chance and rushed to Provo for a whirlwind visit. She described her school as if it were part of her. As we walked around campus, all we talked about was religion. My mind was overflowing with questions again, as it had been in the high school library. I still didn’t see how everything fit together.
The thing that held me back was the principle of eternal progression. “It just can’t be right.” I said, “How can man, who was created by God, ever hope to be a god?”
We were standing in front of the Joseph Smith Building. Nese paused for a moment.
“Dave,” she said, “before we were ever created physically, we were created spiritually as God’s sons and daughters. A part of us, our spirit, comes directly from him as our Father.”
I finally understood! It all fell into place. My grin spread to a smile and erupted as a laugh. I couldn’t stop grinning. My mind jumped from doctrine to doctrine. “Yes, yes, it all fits!” I wanted to dance or sing or run.
There, on the steps of the Joseph Smith Building, the Spirit bore witness to me of the gospel plan. I knew in my heart I would join the Church.
I still had to read the Book of Mormon, learn to pray, and take the missionary discussions. But my life was changed from that moment on. I had found truth, purpose, and a life to fulfill. Five weeks later I was baptized.
Eighteen months later, my impression that I would one day enter the Oakland Temple came true, as I received my endowments one week before leaving on a mission. When I returned, Nese and I decided to continue the eternal journey we had begun with conversations at a table in a library. We were married in the Provo Temple.
Every time I look at my wife, I thank the Lord that there was a girl in my high school with enough faith to “just want to share her beliefs with someone who wouldn’t laugh at her.” She touched my heart and changed my life.

In 2019, when my wife and I went to buy some plastic containers for the house, we decided to buy a small one that at first, we thought would be used for garbage. However, when we got home, I had the feeling that I should use it to store the rice, since at that time we were using a smaller container. When we added the rice that we had, it was half full. At that time, I had a job, and the little container remained half full.
I lost my job in November 2019, and my wife was the only one working in our family. A few months later, in March 2020, the country closed with the arrival of the pandemic, and I was not able to find a job, but we witnessed a miracle. During the months from March to June the little container that we used to store the rice was filled, and not only that, but it also stayed full all that time. We had so much rice that I was able to give some to the people who asked at my door.
As I reflected on it, I realized that the same thing that Elijah the prophet promised to the widow of Zarephath was done to me (see 1 Kings 17:10–16). I am very grateful to my Heavenly Father for providing food for my family in these difficult times that we went through.

“Is something bothering you?” Mom asked Isa as they rode the tram home from church.
Isa stared out at the canals that crisscrossed Amsterdam’s streets. “My Primary teacher said that having the priesthood in your home is a blessing,” Isa said. “But Dad doesn’t have the priesthood.”
“We can still have the priesthood in our home, even if your dad isn’t a member of the Church,” Mom said. “There are lots of worthy priesthood holders in the ward who can help you. What about Brother Van Leeuwen, our home teacher?”
Isa liked Brother Van Leeuwen. He always brought stroopwafels, Isa’s favorite cookie, and talked with her about science, her best subject. But at church, other children told about their dads giving them priesthood blessings when they were sick or upset. Isa couldn’t ask her dad for a blessing.
“I love Dad,” Isa said. “I just wish he had the priesthood.”
When they got home, Dad was in the kitchen cooking dinner. “How was church?” he called to them.
Isa didn’t reply. Instead she went into her bedroom and flopped down on the bed. She wished things were a little different.
The next week Isa had to take a big test at school. Every child in the Netherlands has to take a test when they are 12 years old to determine where they go to school next year. Even though Isa had been studying hard and was prepared, she was very nervous. The night before, her stomach felt like it was tied in knots. She couldn’t sleep. As she tossed and turned in bed, she remembered the lesson from Primary about asking for a priesthood blessing if you were afraid. Even though her dad couldn’t give her a blessing, she knew Heavenly Father would help her if she asked.
Isa got out of bed and walked into the living room. Mom was at work, but Dad was on the couch watching TV.
“Is everything OK?” Dad asked.
“I’m really nervous about the test tomorrow,” Isa said. “Do you think we could call Brother Van Leeuwen and ask him to give me a blessing?”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Dad said. “Let me give him a call.”
Soon Brother Van Leeuwen and his son Jaan came over and gave Isa a blessing. Brother Van Leeuwen asked Heavenly Father to help Isa not be nervous for the test and to help her do well. While Brother Van Leeuwen gave Isa the blessing, Dad sat on the couch and folded his arms and closed his eyes.
After the blessing Isa felt much better. Her stomach wasn’t so tight anymore, and she was even a little sleepy. “Good luck tomorrow,” Brother Van Leeuwen said as they left. “You’ve worked very hard, and I know Heavenly Father will help you do well.”
“I’m proud of you for having faith,” Dad said to Isa as he tucked her back into bed. “Even if I’m not a member of the Church, I’m glad that you believe in God, and I hope you know that I do too.”
“Thank you, Dad,” Isa said, and he kissed her on the cheek.
As she snuggled under her covers, Isa felt happy and peaceful. She was grateful to have a dad who loved her. She was glad her dad believed in Heavenly Father and Jesus. And she knew the priesthood could always bless her and her home.

A seminary class of seniors in Clovis, California, know quite a bit about the value of true manhood and womanhood, as exemplified by the gospel. That’s because their teacher, Elaine Soldani, sets aside one week each for the boys to honor the girls, then for the girls to honor the boys.
During the week, they’re given five minutes at the beginning of class to do something for the honorees. The deeds include giving out homemade cookies, reading original poems, sharing scriptures on the importance of women and men and on the value of the priesthood, cooking breakfast, singing, treasure hunts, and other gestures made to help everyone feel appreciated. Class members say the support and love they feel for each other is amazing after these weeks.
“Seminary is a source of strength in many different areas in a young person’s life,” says Sister Soldani. “These special times have brought our youth closer in friendship and respect for themselves.”

I conclude with an example in my own life. Once I had a treasured friend who seemed to experience more of life’s troubles and frustrations than he could bear. Finally he lay in the hospital, terminally ill. I knew not that he was there.
Sister Monson and I had gone to that same hospital to visit another person who was very ill. As we exited the hospital and proceeded to where our car was parked, I felt the distinct impression to return and make inquiry concerning whether Hyrum Adams might be a patient there. Long years before, I had learned never, never, to postpone a prompting from the Lord. It was late, but a check with the desk clerk confirmed that indeed Hyrum was a patient.
We proceeded to his room, knocked on the door, and opened it. We were not prepared for the sight that awaited us. Balloon bouquets were everywhere. Prominently displayed on the wall was a poster with the words “Happy Birthday” written on it. Hyrum was sitting up in his hospital bed, his family members by his side. When he saw us, he said, “Why, Brother Monson, how in the world did you know that this is my birthday?” I smiled but I left the question unanswered.
Those in the room who held the Melchizedek Priesthood surrounded this, their father and my friend, and a priesthood blessing was given.
After tears were shed, smiles of gratitude exchanged, and tender hugs received and given, I leaned over to Hyrum and spoke softly to him: “Hyrum, remember the words of the Lord, for they will sustain you. He promised, ‘I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.’”

I stared at the note on my desk. For a long time I tried to ignore it. But finally I unfolded it and read:
Nicole, I am soooo sorry! Please forgive me.
Your friend 4ever,
Laurie
I crumpled up the note—loudly, so that Laurie would get my point. Then I threw it in the wastebasket and glanced over at her. She looked as though she was going to cry.
When the bell rang, I headed out the door as quickly as possible. I could hear her calling to me, but I just kept walking. When I got to the gate of the school, I finally turned around. “Stop following me,” I told her. “I’m not going to forgive you, Laurie—not ever.”
“But—”
“You told lies about me!” I yelled. “I was nice to you. I was your friend. And what did you do? You told lies about me!”
Laurie’s eyes were full of tears. “Nicole, please, I’m so sorry.”
I just gritted my teeth. “I hope it’s worth it to you—being friends with Sharon and Beth.”
“They’re not my friends.”
“Then you really blew it, didn’t you?” With that said, I stormed away.
When I got home, I was still so angry with Laurie that my stomach was in knots. Around five o’clock, my best friend, Audrey, called. “Laurie just left here,” she said. “She wanted me to talk to you and ask you to forgive her.”
“She walked all the way to your house?”
“Yes, I guess so.” Audrey sighed. “Anyway, she wanted me to tell you why she lied. She went over to Beth’s house after dance class, and Sharon was there, and …”
Audrey continued talking, but I hardly listened. I didn’t care why Laurie lied. All that mattered to me was that she did.
“Anyway,” Audrey said when she’d finished her story, “Laurie feels really bad. She wants you to forgive her.”
“I’m not going to—not ever.”
The next day, Megan talked about uninviting Laurie to her party. “The only reason I even invited her was because you told me to.”
“Or she could come,” Kim put in, a mischievous grin on her face, “and when she’s not looking, we can squirt ketchup down her back, and …” Kim continued, suggesting all sorts of mean things we could do.
Everyone seemed to think it was a great plan. Everyone but Audrey and me. I glanced over at her, and she gave me a grim look. Audrey is really nice. She’s not into doing mean things—that’s one reason she’s my best friend.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I told them.
“What do you mean?” Kim asked. “We’re doing this for you. Laurie told lies about you.”
“I know. And I’m mad at her, but—”
The bell rang and we went back to class.
For the rest of the week, my friends came up with meaner and meaner things to do to Laurie. I felt sick. I couldn’t forgive Laurie, but I couldn’t do horrible things to her, either. I didn’t know what to do.
On Sunday, I didn’t want to go to church. I had to give a talk in Primary on forgiveness. The week before, when Sister Sharp assigned me the talk, forgiveness had seemed like a good topic. People do things wrong sometimes, and it’s important to forgive them. When we do things wrong, we want Heavenly Father to forgive us. We should do the same for others.
Well, all of that seemed great last Sunday when I wrote the talk—but that was before I knew about Laurie’s lies.
Still, no matter how hard I begged, my mom wouldn’t let me stay home. “Sister Sharp is counting on you to give your talk.”
So I went to Primary and gave my talk. But I felt like a big fake. There I was, talking about how Jesus forgave everyone, even the people who nailed Him to the cross. And I couldn’t forgive Laurie. I felt awful.
Sunday night, I finally knew that I had to forgive her. But knowing you should do something and actually doing it are two different things. I didn’t like feeling upset and angry, yet how could I forgive Laurie for betraying me? I couldn’t even pray anymore because of the guilt I was feeling.
I woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. I’d dreamed that Laurie came to Megan’s party and we were all really mean to her. Somehow—I’m not sure how we did it—we knocked out all of her teeth. Laurie was crying and looking at me with no teeth. “Will you forgive me now?” she asked.
I couldn’t go back to sleep. Finally I threw off my covers and knelt at the side of my bed. “Heavenly Father,” I cried, “Please help me forgive Laurie.”
I explained to Him why it was so hard for me to forgive her. “I was nice to Laurie. She was new in our class, and no one else would talk to her. But I went out of my way to be her friend, and I had my friends be friends with her, too. And then she told lies about me.”
I told Heavenly Father what Audrey had told me on the phone the other day, that two of our classmates, Beth and Sharon, had made her feel stupid. Laurie had told them the lies so that they would not be mean to her anymore.
“What she did was wrong,” I told Heavenly Father, “but—”
Suddenly I didn’t feel angry anymore. I mostly felt sorry for Laurie—sorry that she’d felt that she needed to lie. It’s hard to go to a new school and have to make new friends, especially when some are being unfriendly.
So I forgave Laurie. But talking my friends into forgiving her wasn’t easy. After talking with Audrey, I told them, “If you’re still planning on doing mean things to Laurie, then Audrey and I won’t come to your party. We’ll have our own party and invite Laurie.”
“Nicole, calm down,” Kim said with a laugh. “If you think she’s worth another chance, we’ll give her one.”
“She’s worth it,” I told them. “Everyone is worth it.” Jesus Christ taught me that.

Talking things over with Mother was always easy. She was an energetic woman, mother of eight. I was the eldest. We enjoyed an unusual relationship. She was my counselor. I was her confidant. With such a large family it was important to get part-time work as I approached high school. We talked it over. She had a great deal of initiative and management ability. We had engaged in a contest to secure subscriptions for the Deseret News. We didn’t win the prize, but my name received “Honorable Mention,” with mother doing most of the work behind the scenes. When it was time to get a paper route, without my knowledge, she called Ralph Whitney, the circulation manager of the Deseret News, and opened the door. The first thing I knew, my solicitations bore fruit and I received Route 11 in downtown Salt Lake City. I could leave the LDS campus on North Main, go to the Deseret News printing press on Richards Street, get my “sheets” as we called them, then proceed down Main Street to 300 South, back up State Street, crisscrossing 200 and 100 South to deliver papers in the various hotels, cafes, and shops that were subscribers.
Mother and father expected dependability from their sons. This led to an opportunity to get a larger route with more subscribers, Route 69. This extended from 800 South to 1300 South in Salt Lake City between 800 and 900 East. Windsor Street intersected and ran parallel to 900 and 800 East. I had nearly 100 papers. Our earnings were one cent for every paper delivered. Subscriptions were fifteen cents a week, or sixty-five cents a month. We were billed for the number of papers sent to us. I did collecting on Saturday mornings when school was out and always tried to pay the bill to Mr. Knight at the Deseret News office on the southwest corner of Main and South Temple by Monday. The bill amounted to nine cents a week for every paper delivered. With six deliveries a week, that meant six cents on each paper, or the magnificent income of about six dollars a week, provided everybody paid his bill! In collecting I met many older friends, principally the mothers and grandmothers who were home on Saturday mornings. They would respond to my knock at the door, come forward with their fifteen cents for the week’s papers, and we would talk. These friends provided much stability for the social environment of a teenager. I learned early in my teens of the value of communicating, receiving counsel, respecting older people, and responding obediently to my parents. It was a great blessing. It provided me with marvelous lessons at home, such as the injunction in one of my father’s songs: “A friend is a present you give yourself.”

Two years before I was born in 1942, my mother gave birth to my older brother, Gary. Gary is a very special person. When he was born, his brain was damaged by a lack of oxygen. His mind never grew above the level of a six- or seven-year-old.
For more than 60 years, I watched my parents take care of Gary. They helped brush his teeth, comb his hair, and tie his tie on Sunday. Because he loved horses and cowboys, they took him to rodeos and Western movies. They performed countless acts of love and kindness for him.
Unfortunately, people aren’t always so kind to those who are different. I’m sorry to say that some children—even children from active Latter-day Saint families—were unkind to my brother. They shut him out of games, called him ugly names, and teased him unmercifully.
Gary was a childlike person who was always quick to forgive. He loved and accepted everybody. I think that aside from my parents, this special brother did more during my childhood to shape my outlook on life than anyone else. I sometimes think how it will be after the Resurrection, when as Alma describes, “all things shall be restored to their proper and perfect frame” (Alma 40:23). Then we’ll know the real Gary, and I think we’ll be very grateful for all the good things we’ve done for him and very sad about those times when we might have been more loving and understanding of his special circumstances.

In the St. George Utah Green Valley Stake, Troy and Sue Olsen began attending a self-reliance group on emotional resilience, anticipating they were going to help others. Their bishop asked ward council members to participate in a group so they could share what they learned with others.
The Olsens were dealing with some challenging blended-family dynamics with adult children. “We have a family member who was going through some difficult times,” Sister Olsen explains. “I was frustrated that I was not able to help more.” The discussions about “myths” and “realities” from the workbook helped the Olsens see their family situation differently.
Then another group member shared how guilty and hopeless she felt when her brother had taken his own life. Sister Olsen realized that others also had emotional burdens that she was completely unaware of and needed ministering to in a unique way.
She might not be able to lift the burden, but the Savior could. The workbook stressed, “Your role is to love and minister to people, and the Savior will do the healing.” Sister Olsen says, “By casting our burdens on Him, we saw with new eyes, heard old messages in new ways, and had a renewed understanding of the gospel and His healing power.”
Group discussions, workbook examples, and personal empathy all helped greatly improve their situation as well. Sister Olsen still has some anxious moments and many heartfelt prayers. Importantly, she now sees her role differently—to love and minister—not to fix or solve others’ issues.

Following that initial fast and testimony meeting experience, I looked forward to each subsequent fast and testimony meeting. I would fast and take the opportunity to bear my testimony. Since English is my second language, I had difficulties expressing myself during that period of my life. Therefore, I would write my testimony on a piece of paper and read it. After a few months of writing and reading my testimony, my branch president called me into his office and said that a testimony is a spiritual witness given by the Holy Ghost. He admonished me to prepare myself spiritually and to listen to the impressions I received. He asked that I be prepared to share those impressions rather than writing down my testimony as a talk. He reminded me of my first day at church when I stood and shared my testimony. He encouraged me to have faith and bear my testimony from the heart without written notes.
I accepted this challenging invitation. What I did not say to my branch president was how difficult it was for me to compose sentences, let alone express myself in the English language.
At the fast and testimony meeting following the counsel from my branch president, I stood up and walked to the pulpit. I stood at the pulpit without saying anything for what I thought was a full minute. I couldn’t remember the words I had memorized. Since I was told not to read my testimony, I wrote it down and spent the whole week committing it to memory. Finally, when I could speak, I spoke in a haphazard way. The words were meaningless in my own mind. The congregation just looked at me in a very strange way. I felt terrible.
It took me a few months to gain enough confidence to be able to bear my testimony again. After my unfortunate experience, I resolved not to bear my testimony. I did not want to embarrass myself. I would sit and listen to others sharing their testimonies. I watched and listened to each brother and sister carefully. I felt their spiritual witness of the Savior Jesus Christ, the reality of the first vision, and that Heavenly Father and His Son Jesus Christ appeared to the boy Joseph. I was inspired by each affirmation that the Book of Mormon teaches and testifies of Jesus Christ and that it is indeed another testament of Christ.
On each succeeding fast and testimony meeting, my motivation welled up from a new and more compelling source. My soul was hungry for spiritual nourishment. I was like a starving man. I couldn’t get enough. The sincere expression and the words were mellow and soothing to me—more than that, they rang true. Words cannot express my feelings. It was as if I had experienced such a feeling of ecstasy somewhere before in a dim past. I felt the Lord’s love for me and a desire to want to be better.
I fought the urge to share my testimony each fast and testimony meeting. Then one Sunday as the meeting was about to end, I couldn’t hold back. I stood where I was and declared my own witness of the Savior. I declared “the things which [I] have heard, and verily believe, and know to be true” (Doctrine & Covenants 80:4). I knew then as I now know, that bearing a testimony is a blessing not only to me, but to those who are touched by it. A year after the Church was organized in these latter days, the prophet Joseph Smith met several elders returning from Independence on the bank of the Missouri River. Joseph received this revelation regarding the importance of bearing one’s testimony: “Nevertheless, ye are blessed, for the testimony which ye have borne is recorded in heaven for the angels to look upon; and they rejoice over you, and your sins are forgiven you” (Doctrine & Covenants 62:3).
Since that Sunday, whenever I have an opportunity, I bear testimony of the Savior and His Atonement. I bear testimony of how the Book of Mormon has changed my life through its prophecies and teachings. I felt then, just as I do today; peace, comfort and a consistent desire to change for the better. I feel compelled to share my testimony as a service to others.

“I’m so excited for recess!” Ally told Lauren as they put their lunch boxes back on the shelf in their classroom. “Tami just said we’re all going to play tag together on the playground today.”
“Fun!” Lauren said. “I love tag.”
Lauren was happy and surprised that Tami had invited Ally to play. Tami had always been mean to Ally. Lauren was glad she was finally trying to be nice.
“I need to take a book to the library first, so make sure they don’t start without me.” Ally smiled as she ran down the hall to the library.
Lauren raced out to the playground. When she got there, Tami was already gathering the other kids into a circle. Lauren ran over to join them.
“Hurry up, everyone!” Tami called as she motioned everyone into a tight huddle. “I have a fun idea I want to tell everyone before Ally gets out here.”
Lauren didn’t feel very good about this.
All the kids squeezed into the huddle to hear. “Instead of tagging everyone like we usually do,” Tami said, “let’s just tag Ally. But no one better tell her, or else!” Tami giggled. She seemed so proud of herself.
Lauren looked at the other kids in the circle. A lot of these kids hadn’t been nice to Ally since kindergarten. That’s when the kids really started being mean to Ally. They would make fun of her and tease her. Most times Tami started it and the other kids would follow.
Lauren had never liked how they treated Ally. She decided right then that she wouldn’t follow along with them. She knew everyone was a child of God and should be treated with kindness.
She took a deep breath and looked Tami in the eyes. “That doesn’t sound like a fun idea to me. I don’t think we should treat Ally like that. So I don’t want to play.”
Lauren walked out of the circle and started back toward the school alone to find Ally.
At least she thought she was alone.
Then she heard, “Hey, wait up!” Lauren turned around and there were most of the kids from Tami’s circle. She couldn’t believe it!
“Let’s go find Ally and start our own game of tag,” Damon said.
Lauren and Ally live in Canada. They are in high school now and are still great friends.
“I want to play too!” Lea said. The others nodded.
Lauren smiled. That awful feeling in her stomach was gone. “Good idea!” she said. “There’s Ally coming over right now.”
She turned and tapped Damon on the shoulder. “Tag, you’re it!” she yelled, then raced toward Ally. And all the kids came racing after.

What are you doing?
Changing the air filter.
What does it do?
It’s got an important job. It keeps dirt out of the engine.
You know, you have a filter too.
What do you mean?
It’s the Holy Ghost. It helps you know when what you’re watching or reading isn’t good.
Like that movie we turned off last night?
Right! The Holy Ghost helped us keep bad stuff out of our brains—just like a filter!
Yeah, it’s not like you can throw your old brain away and get a new one at the store!

Rene, for example, lived in a nice apartment in Michigan, USA. But when she retired, her Social Security and pension weren’t enough to meet her expenses. Finances became such a worry that her children suggested she look into low-income housing.

She found a retirement residence and moved in. “I’m stress-free now because I have enough money to live on,” she says. “I like my new ward and neighbors, and this apartment is perfect for family parties.”

I also often spent time in the homes of my two uncles as I played with my cousins. I especially liked being there when it was time for family prayer. Uncle Carl was a farmer. When he prayed, he concentrated on really talking to Heavenly Father, thanking Him for his many blessings and humbly pleading for moisture for the crops. Uncle Angus was the father of six lively boys, and he prayed for the guidance and protection of his sons. When these two men prayed, I knew that Heavenly Father was listening. I got the same warm feeling while kneeling in family prayer with them that I did while on my grandpa’s lap listening to scripture stories.

“I have received far too many blessings from just keeping my recommend current to not hold it dear to my heart. Twelve months after my baptism I went to my first and only young single adult convention. I was assigned to a service project at a farm, but at the last minute some spaces opened up on the temple service project. I had my recommend and appropriate clothing with me, so I went and while there I met a friend who introduced me to my future husband by the end of the week. For an assortment of reasons, we couldn’t initially be sealed in the temple, so I didn’t get endowed until later. In following a prompting to go to the temple for my endowment, I was blessed with my first child the very same week. Throughout my pregnancy, I continued to go to the temple every month until my son was born. From that, I was blessed with new friendships in a new ward and a stronger testimony and an understanding of God’s plan. Two months after the birth of my son, the temples closed and I went through some of the greatest trials of my life thus far, but because of what I’ve learned in staying worthy of my recommend and using it often, my faith never failed through my trials. I struggled, I felt weak, but my faith remained steadfast.” —Marie Cranston, Melbourne, Australia

One Church member received this gift—and the joy promised—when reading the Book of Mormon for the second time. The first reading had been quick—simply to finish the book as fast as possible. But the second reading was motivated by a desire to understand what the book taught.
“As I read, new ideas flowed into my mind, and I began to make connections between what I read and experiences I was having. I recognized ways I needed to improve. But rather than feeling chastised, I felt loved. My heart swelled with joy.”

Illustration by Jim Madsen
In October 2011, my bishop heard a talk by Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles about the Spirit of Elijah and the responsibility the youth have to serve through family history. My bishop was inspired by this talk and decided to have the bishopric youth committee watch it in their meeting. He asked the youth what they wanted to do to follow Elder Bednar’s instruction, and they told him they wanted to set up a summer indexing project. Together with the bishop, they set a goal of 50,000 names and invited my whole ward to help with the project.
I was asked by Brother Watts, a member of our bishopric, to serve as an indexing specialist. I accepted, but I had no idea what indexing was or how to do it. I was very confused and just a little bit nervous.
Brother Watts showed me how to use the indexing program on FamilySearch.org. He told me that he was absolutely confident we were going to reach our goal. Even though it was my first official assignment as a young woman, I was determined to learn how to do what I was asked to do by my priesthood leaders, no matter how hard it was.
I soon learned that indexing is part of family history—typing people’s names from records into a database so their family members can find them. I knew this effort was important, and so did my whole ward, especially my bishop.
To serve in this project, I showed many different people how to index and contribute names. By the end of the summer, the youth alone had finished 25,000 names! Before we knew it, we met our goal 100 percent.
I know that every one of my leaders is called of God to serve and direct the Church, and that when I listen to them, I’m not only doing what they ask me to do but also what God asks me to do. When I listen to and follow my leaders, I’m serving too—participating in the work of the priesthood, the work of salvation.

“Sister Hopkins, these are the 10 Sunbeams you will be teaching this year,” the counselor in the Primary presidency announced. I was a new convert, and I admit that this calling terrified me. How could I teach what I did not yet have a firm understanding of? How would I handle so many energetic children? But the bishop and Primary president assured me I would be blessed for tackling this daunting calling.
I knew I’d have to pour myself into learning the gospel in order to teach it, so each week I read the manual—a source of abundant gospel light—and prayed and pondered how the principles applied to my life and to the children’s. As I studied and taught, I gained a testimony of our divine birthright as children of God. I discovered the worth and uniqueness of each soul. Simple Primary lessons not only illuminated the faces of His precious children, but they also blossomed the seed of testimony I had had when I entered the waters of baptism.
That precious year with the Sunbeams has made me forever grateful for a calling that changed my life. I was changed, as were the children, by the teachings of Jesus Christ.

A few months later, Martin came to Harmony. He said he felt called by the Lord to travel as far as New York City to consult experts in ancient languages. He hoped they could translate the characters.12
Joseph copied several more characters from the plates, wrote down his translation, and handed the paper to Martin. He and Emma then watched as their friend headed east to consult with distinguished scholars.13
Facsimile of characters from the Book of Mormon plates.
When Martin arrived in New York City, he went to see Charles Anthon, a professor of Latin and Greek at Columbia College. Professor Anthon was a young man—about 15 years younger than Martin—and was best known for publishing a popular encyclopedia on Greek and Roman culture. He had also begun collecting stories about American Indians.14
Anthon was a rigid scholar who resented interruptions, but he welcomed Martin and studied the characters and translation Joseph had provided.15 Although the professor did not know Egyptian, he had read some studies on the language and knew what it looked like. Looking at the characters, he saw some similarities with Egyptian and told Martin the translation was correct.
Martin showed him more characters, and Anthon examined them. He said they contained characters from many ancient languages and gave Martin a certificate verifying their authenticity. He also recommended that he show the characters to another scholar named Samuel Mitchill, who used to teach at Columbia.16
“He is very learned in these ancient languages,” Anthon said, “and I have no doubt he will be able to give you some satisfaction.”17
Martin placed the certificate in his pocket, but just as he was leaving, Anthon called him back. He wanted to know how Joseph found the gold plates.
“An angel of God,” Martin said, “revealed it unto him.” He testified that the translation of the plates would change the world and save it from destruction. And now that he had proof of their authenticity, he intended to sell his farm and donate money to get the translation published.
“Let me see that certificate,” Anthon said.
Martin reached into his pocket and gave it to him. Anthon tore it to pieces and said there was no such thing as ministering angels. If Joseph wanted the plates translated, he could bring them to Columbia and let a scholar translate them.
Martin explained that part of the plates were sealed and that Joseph was not allowed to show them to anyone.
“I cannot read a sealed book,” said Anthon. He warned Martin that Joseph was probably cheating him. “Beware of rogues,” he said.18
Martin left Professor Anthon and called on Samuel Mitchill. He received Martin politely, listened to his story, and looked at the characters and translation. He could not make sense of them, but he said they reminded him of Egyptian hieroglyphics and were the writings of an extinct nation.19
Martin left the city a short time later and returned to Harmony, more convinced than ever that Joseph had ancient gold plates and the power to translate them. He told Joseph about his interviews with the professors and reasoned that if some of the most educated men in America could not translate the book, Joseph had to do it.
“I cannot,” Joseph said, overwhelmed by the task, “for I am not learned.” But he knew the Lord had prepared the interpreters so he could translate the plates.20
Martin agreed. He planned to go back to Palmyra, set his business in order, and return as soon as possible to serve as Joseph’s scribe.21