Gospel Story Finder

“I witness the complete and absolute truth of the Savior’s incomparable atoning sacrifice and of His glorious Resurrection. As we focus our lives on this thought, I promise we will feel His hope, His peace, and His love.
“When we unexpectedly lose someone we love, the sadness and grief can be overwhelming.
“Late last year, the life of radiant Brigham Young University freshman Anna Peterson ended suddenly following a tragic sledding accident. Anna was a humble, loving, and kind disciple of Jesus Christ. She sought ways to help others feel God’s love. In fact, she had just finished her application to become a full-time missionary.
“Though many lost a friend when Anna passed, her parents, John and Julie, lost a beautiful light, who they had cared for, prayed over, and loved for 18 years. The death of a daughter is enough to engulf anyone in grief. However, despite the deep sorrow they feel, John and Julie have chosen to lean on the Lord Jesus Christ.
“I asked John—who served as a missionary with me when I presided over the France Bordeaux Mission—and Julie to share with me their thoughts as they continue to practice faith in Jesus Christ in the face of this tragedy. This is what they shared with me:
“John: ‘Anna’s sudden and tragic death tore what feels like a massive wound in my chest. But there is a balm in Gilead, and as we have leaned into gratitude for both the Savior’s Atonement and the wonderful, amazing times we had in Anna’s 18 years, the tender mercies fill us to overflowing. We have strength to press on.’
“Julie: ‘Shortly after Anna’s accident, I was prompted to make the theme of our efforts ‘Turn to the Light, Our Savior.’ As we share with each other these opportunities to choose light rather than choosing darkness to cope, we strengthen each other, and the Lord carries us in our grief. I/We choose to trust the Lord.’
“I sincerely admire John and Julie’s faith in Jesus Christ. They are a wonderful example to me. During this Easter season, I testify that Jesus Christ broke the bands of death, allowing all to live beyond the grave, and, most importantly, He promises each of us that as we believe in and follow Him, we can live with Him forever—yes, forever!”

Sometimes a prayer may not be answered because we do not truly want it to be. When my husband was in his late teens, he read the Book of Mormon and became confident that it would be possible to communicate with the Lord. He says that he put off making that awesome move, not from thinking it impossible as much as from not being ready for so great a step. One day he rode his horse out into the mountains, dismounted and knelt down to pray. As he contemplated the possibilities of personal change and responsibility that would come if the Lord communicated with him, be began to realize that he was not as ready to give up his comfortable style of life as he was eager for the Lord’s approval. He felt so certain the Lord would answer him if he asked that he became acutely aware for the first time that he did not really want to experience a change as great as that communication might lead to. He got up and rode away.
It was a few months later that he approached the Lord again, this time readier to accept the communication and the responsibility. And on that occasion, the Lord did answer.
It had not been the Lord who was unwilling the first time, but rather Bob. He had wanted to please the Lord, and had wanted the Lord to think well of him, but did not fully want to give up the easiness of the world—not really knowing that the gospel is true, and not really wanting to grow up quite yet. The Lord knew his heart better than he did himself, and allowed him his truest desire on both occasions.

One day, Wilford was feeding pumpkins to his father’s cattle in a pasture.
He noticed that one large bull was eating more than his fair share, so Wilford decided to take one of his pumpkins away.
Wilford: He ate one of that cow’s pumpkins! I’ll show him who’s boss.
The bull was so mad at Wilford that he started chasing him down the pasture hill.
Luckily, Wilford tripped and fell to the ground, and the pumpkin went flying out of his hands. The bull jumped right over Wilford and tore the pumpkin to pieces with his horns.
Wilford: If I hadn’t tripped, that would’ve been me getting torn to pieces!
Years later Wilford became the fourth President of the Church. He said he believed Heavenly Father had protected him during those childhood adventures.
President Woodruff: I ascribe my preservation on earth to the watch-care of a merciful Providence, whose hand has been stretched out to rescue me from death when I was in the presence of the most threatening dangers.

Rebecca opened the book, and on page 133 she found the name of Gideon Burdick and began to read:
“Gideon Burdick possessed qualities which endeared him to his family and friends. It is told of him that one day he went into the fields to labor and hung his coat upon a fence post. By night he found a little bird had built its nest in the sleeve. Rather than disturb the nest he left the coat there until the young were hatched and able to leave.”

Sometimes sitting in Valiant B class is about as interesting as washing woodwork for Mom. But last Sunday was a real surprise. In a way, I guess I was responsible. It all began before class started, when I put my gum on a piece of paper on my chair and went out into the hall to get a drink.

While I was still out in the hall, I heard this awful howl coming from the classroom. I raced back just in time to see Eileen Cameron pulling strings of gum off her dress.

“Who put that gum there?” demanded Sister Higgins.

The guys looked at me as I started backing out into the hall.

“Mark!” Her voice carried a warning.

Reluctantly I turned around. “It was an accident, Sister Higgins. Honest. I just put it there a minute while I went for a drink.”

“I see,” she said, unconvinced. “We’ll talk about it after class. Eileen, you may go to the rest room to see what you can do about removing that gum. The rest of you settle down so we can start.”

We tried to settle down, but it was difficult. Sister Higgins had her eye on me and the other boys. Finally she made us sit boy-girl-boy-girl so we wouldn’t giggle anymore.

“Mark,” Sister Higgins began again when the class had quieted down, “I want you to offer the opening prayer. And please ask Heavenly Father to help all of us to be reverent today.”

The prayer was going OK until I tried to say reverent. I just couldn’t seem to say it right. Someone giggled, and I ended with a quick amen and sat down fast.

I could tell that Sister Higgins wasn’t pleased with me. She pulled out some pictures and told us several stories about faith and about how you need to have faith when you pray. She had us write “Faith without works is dead” on a piece of paper, then split us into groups to make up skits showing how faith helps prayers to be answered.

Those skits were really fun! I guess we laughed every other minute. And even though Sister Higgins gave me a lecture after class, the lesson on faith was one we all enjoyed.

“Let’s go,” the voice of our group counselor rang out. My week at a college program in Idaho had barely begun, and it was already the end of the first day. We walked a short distance from our campsite with the bright blue of the sun’s disappearance just fading below the horizon. Our counselor stopped us all on the dirt road in the center of a field and told us we could go off alone to try to get in touch with the Spirit. I had already chosen my spot—behind us and down a hill, in a stand of trees.
As I slipped away from the rest of my group, I sat down in the grass and began to think. I began to hear the noises of small insects in the grass around me. I then picked up a small pink flower, noticing the details and intricacies that made it. As the sky grew darker, I looked up, noticing the perfectly clear field of millions of stars hovering above me. As I sat thinking, the scriptures about God’s creations popped into my mind. God had created worlds more numerous than the sands of the sea, and yet I looked down at the flower in my hand, at how intricately formed it was. The rest of the week I felt grateful for God’s creations and His care for even the smallest of them.

In 2017, Sister Anne Papworth told this story in a BYU-Idaho devotional:

I'd like to share an experience I had with a Foundations English 101 class and their research paper. Because we were working on a long assignment, I'd broken the essay into several smaller (and hopefully easier) sections. The introduction was no problem for the students, and they felt comfortable with the summary that followed. But then we got to the hard part: the synthesis section. This wasn't something they had done before, and I knew that many students would struggle with this part of the assignment. But I wasn't too worried, because I had planned for this. First, we studied the concepts of synthesis. Then we looked at and analyzed writing samples, studying how others had completed this assignment. But eventually it was time for the students to try it themselves.

That day's homework was to come to class with a draft of the synthesis section so we could workshop their essays and identify where they were still struggling. However, the morning this draft was due, a massive outbreak struck campus. At least, that was my thought as I walked into a room with about half of my students missing. It wasn't a flu epidemic that had kept students out of class that day, but an epidemic of a different type. Throughout the day I received emails from absent students who explained that they'd tried to write this section, couldn't figure it out, quit trying, and, because their homework wasn't done, decided to skip class.

Now, the students who did come to class hadn't completed the assignment perfectly, but they came, having done what they could on their own. And because they did, they had a foundation to work from as we looked at their questions and addressed their confusion. As they walked out of class, these students were laughing and joking with each other, very different emotions from the frustration they'd expressed at the beginning of class. Many sighed with relief and expressed appreciation: "Thanks. Today's class answered so many of my questions."

The students who skipped class that day because "the assignment was just so hard" were now even more behind. They still didn't have a draft, and now they didn't have the additional information and feedback to help them work through this difficult section.12

It's ironic! But avoiding the problem often increases the problem. In the long run, it’s easier to just show up.

When I was seven, I learned one of the greatest lessons of my life. We were studying the environment in school. We discussed pollution and ways we could help decrease its terrible effects on the world. We talked about the oceans and how, even in little ways, we could change some of the things we do at home to make the world safer for all creatures.
I was still pretty young then, but I really took what we had been learning to heart. To me, the environment is a very important thing. The more I learned about why we should conserve our natural resources, the more I wanted everyone else to know the same things and think they were just as important as I did. I became a seven-year-old warrior fighting in the everyday battle to save Mother Nature.
One day, I came home from school having just finished drinking a soda. We had a recycling bin, which we used regularly, and with my newfound enthusiasm for caring about the environment, I went straight to toss my empty bottle in.
“Stop,” my mom said over her shoulder. “Our recycling company doesn’t allow us to recycle green plastic.”
I was shocked. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The recycling companies were supposed to be the heroes; why would they say we could recycle some things and not others? It didn’t make any sense to me. Disappointed, I dropped my bottle in the trash and headed back toward my room.
At that moment, I had an impression I’d never had before. Coming from a family that was not very religious, we had never had family prayer or even knew what prayer was, other than what we had seen on TV. But right then that was exactly what I felt I needed to do: get on my knees by my bed and pray about it. So I slipped into my room and, not really knowing how to begin, gave it a simple try.
“God,” I started quietly, “this is Ace. Thank you for the environment. Please let us recycle green plastic bottles in this area. It’s really important.” I closed with an “amen” and waited. I didn’t know what to expect. Although I wasn’t visited by angels or struck by lightning, I did feel something I had never felt before. As I sat there, I felt good. I felt like I wasn’t alone in the room anymore, although there clearly wasn’t any other person I could see. Something told me that what I had just done was right.
Life continued the same as it always had. In fact, by the next afternoon I had been so involved in usual things at school that I had mostly forgotten about the green bottle episode and the prayer.
When I got home, I went back to my room, but before long my mom called my name and asked me to come to the kitchen. When I did, I saw that she had a letter in her hand. She explained that it was from the recycling company stating that now we could recycle green plastics in addition to other things.
She handed me the letter. I looked it over, but I couldn’t believe it. The same feeling I had had the day before came rushing back to me. It was an answer.
That was an experience that has never left me. Every time I think about it, I’m still amazed that it could have happened at all. And it was this experience that, three years later, helped me to feel the truth of the gospel when the missionaries came knocking at our family’s door. It was the same feeling.

Kim listened as her grandmother told the family about her mission call. “I’m going to work in the Denver Temple. I’ll be an ordinance worker there.”
Denver! It was over fifteen hundred miles away. Kim had learned that in her fourth grade geography class. “Why do you have to go there?” she asked.
Grandma turned to her. “I don’t have to go there, Kimmy. I want to. That’s where the Lord needs me.”
“But we need you here.”
Grandma smiled. “I’m glad that you want me to stay. But it’s time I started getting on with my life again. Ever since your grandpa died, …” She didn’t finish, and Kim watched as tears rolled down Grandma’s cheeks.
Kim’s grandfather had died the year before. Since then, her grandmother didn’t smile as much as she used to. And when she did smile, the smile didn’t reach her eyes. It stayed right on her lips as if it was too tired to stretch any farther. Kim remembered when her grandmother was always smiling. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, sending little lines to turn up at the edges.
“Laugh lines,” Grandpa had called them. He had liked to tease Grandma, and he’d laughed when her cheeks turned rosy with embarrassment. Grandma pretended she was mad at him, but Kim knew she wasn’t.
When Grandpa died, things changed. Grandma came to live with Kim’s family, but she didn’t bustle around as she had before. Mostly she sat by the window, staring out. Once when Kim asked her what she was looking at, Grandma smiled one of her half-smiles and said, “I’m remembering, child,” and Kim understood that Grandma was remembering Grandpa.
But now Grandma was going away. “Why does it have to be the Denver Temple? Can’t you serve right here in the Washington Temple?”
“The Lord has called me to Denver,” Grandma said simply.
Grandma spent the next two weeks saying good-bye to old friends. The Saturday she was due to leave, Kim stayed in her bedroom, refusing to go to the airport with the rest of her family. “I can’t,” she told Mother. “I don’t want to see Grandma leave. I’ll miss her.”
“I’ll miss her, too,” her mother said, “but I’m glad that she’s going to serve a mission. Do you remember how happy Grandma was when she cooked Christmas dinner for us?”
Kim nodded, puzzled. What did Christmas dinner have to do with Grandma serving a mission?
“Grandma was happy then because she was serving others. Do you remember how much she enjoyed baby-sitting your cousin Elizabeth when Aunt Carol had to go to the hospital?”
Again Kim nodded. She was beginning to understand. Grandma was happy when she was serving others. “When Grandpa died, did Grandma stop being happy because she couldn’t take care of him anymore?”
“That’s part of it,” Mother said. “She loved Grandpa very much. When he died, I think she felt empty inside. Grandma is happier now because she has a chance to serve someone else. Someone very special.”
Kim knew who that someone was. “Jesus Christ.”
“That’s right. Can’t you be happy for her too?”
Kim thought about that. Of course she wanted Grandma to be happy. Hadn’t Kim been the one to spend hours with Grandma right after Grandpa died so that she wouldn’t be lonely? But Kim also remembered all the times Grandma had sat in her rocking chair, just rocking back and forth, her eyes sad. “Wait, Mom. I have to change my clothes. I want to go to the airport too.”
People scurried through the airport to catch their planes. Kim kept a tight hold on Grandma’s hand. At the gate where Grandma’s plane waited, Kim squeezed her hand even more tightly. “I’m going to miss you, Grandma,” she said, trying hard not to cry.
Grandma bent down to kiss Kim’s cheek. “I’m going to miss you too.”
“I’ll write every week,” Kim promised.
“Me too,” Grandma said, brushing away a tear.
Kim reached up to hug Grandma. “I’m happy you’re going to serve a mission.”
“Thank you, my little Kimmy.”
Kim’s mother, then her father and little brother hugged Grandma.
Kim watched as her grandmother boarded the plane. That night, Kim started a letter:
“Dear Grandma,
“I’m going to tell all my friends that you’re serving a mission in the Denver Temple. I’m very proud of you. …”

The landscape was dry, barren, and ugly. Beauty, admittedly, is in the eye of the beholder. That holds true for scenery as well as works of art. Yet the expanse of desert in front of me did so little to inspire my imagination that I felt sure plenty of other people might share my sentiment. The only thing growing out there was sage brush and weeds, and even those were spread thin.
I’d spent six hours in a car to reach this?
With my backpacking pack loaded with three days of food, water, and supplies, I trudged across the hot sand and hoped things would get better. Soon the dry sand deepened, which made every step feel like two or three. Things went on like that for several miles: hot, dry, dusty, and nothing at all like I’d hoped this adventure would be.
And then Coyote Gulch, one of the great slot canyons of the western United States, swallowed me whole.
It’s hard to describe the drastic change in scenery that engulfs you as you drop into this desert canyon. Hot, dry sand gives way to cool, packed earth. Sage brush is replaced with an oasis of towering trees, ferns, and other vibrant plants.
Barren flatland becomes a deep, shadowed canyon with towering walls on either side. A cool and refreshing stream courses through the bottom, whereas you can’t see water anywhere from above.
I was blown away at every step. I took pictures by the hundred. Yet for those first few dusty miles, literally none of this staggering beauty was visible, even if you looked for it.
Life is often like that.
The respective worlds of junior high and high school can loom larger than life while traveling through them. If your group of friends turns on you suddenly, for example, it can honestly feel like you’ll be friendless and lonely forever.
Getting a C+ on your report card when you’ve worked hard all year can seem like something that will derail your academic train forever. Not making the team, not getting a part in the school play, or not being invited to prom can feel in all honesty like life-altering events that forever taint your future.
The adversary tries to make us think that way, at least. But it’s simply not true. Life continues on. Life can improve beyond whatever challenges you’re grappling with at the moment.
Most likely you have no idea what wonders lie ahead, nor how Heavenly Father might be using your experiences now to prepare you for them (see D&C 58:3–4).
President Dieter F. Uchtdorf shared a story in general conference about a challenge from his own life that became a massive blessing for him. During the challenge, however, it was hard for President Uchtdorf to see much value in the struggle. He was 11 years old at the time and had to pedal a heavy bicycle and cart to deliver laundry for his family’s laundry business.
“Most of the time, I was not overly excited about the bike, the cart, or my job,” he said. “Sometimes the cart seemed so heavy and the work so tiring that I thought my lungs would burst, and I often had to stop to catch my breath.”
There was a reason the work was so hard for him. He was battling a lung disease he didn’t even know he had. But here’s the miracle: all that strenuous exercise proved to be exactly what he needed to heal his lungs. Not until many years later, when he took a physical exam to enter the military, did President Uchtdorf learn there had ever been anything wrong.
“It became clear to me that my regular exercise in fresh air as a laundry boy had been a key factor in my healing from this illness,” he said. “Without the extra effort of pedaling that heavy bicycle day in and day out, pulling the laundry cart up and down the streets of our town, I might never have become a jet fighter pilot and later a 747 airline captain.”1
Life takes time to unfold. We can’t hit the gym one time only and expect to get in shape. We don’t plant an apple seed a few months before we want to pluck fruit for an apple pie. Some of the most stunning vistas in your own life may not even be visible on the horizon yet. But they’re coming! Keep your eyes set for them even if they’re some distance away.
Elder Richard G. Scott (1928–2015) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “Think of the long view of life, not just what’s going to happen today or tomorrow. Don’t give up what you most want in life for something you think you want now.”2
Part of thinking of the long view of life includes recognizing that there’s life beyond high school! That sounds obvious enough. But sometimes, in practice, it’s not easy to convince your own brain to recognize that truth. If your life falls to pieces here and now, the adversary always heaps on discouragement. And one of the most tried and true forms of discouragement seems to be this: the idea that things are never going to be any different. But, of course, they will. You will change and grow too. With God’s help, you can learn to see that brighter future even when things are dark in your life.
President Uchtdorf has taught: “If you trust the Lord and obey Him, His hand shall be over you, He will help you achieve the great potential He sees in you, and He will help you to see the end from the beginning.”3
I’ve been able to look back over my own life and see many parallels to my hike into Coyote Gulch. For instance, I was a lousy student in high school. But with a mission and a few more years’ experience behind me, I sailed through college.
Various challenges that felt permanent then proved to be fleeting at best. And don’t even get me started on all the high school drama at every turn (which seemed like such a big deal at the time) that I haven’t thought about since graduation.
So don’t worry if life feels rough-and-tumble right now. Hang in there. As Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, “Stay the course and see the beauty of life unfold for you.”4
And what a beautiful life it will be.

Tiger Brown was the meanest man I’d ever met. During the first summer after my mission I worked a highway construction job. Tiger was the foreman. He was about 60, short and stocky, with a bulldog neck and face. His eyes were small and angry, like a bear’s eyes.
My job was to follow a machine that laid down asphalt mix and to make sure the surface was clean and level. Large rocks would make their way through the machine, ending up buried in the asphalt. I would have to pick them out with a shovel and fill in the hole with hot mix from the front of the machine. Then I’d rake it smooth so it matched the rest of the road surface. We were laying a new surface on a highway in the west desert of Utah that summer. In the middle of the day the temperatures would be a hundred plus in the shade, and with the steaming hot asphalt it was nearly unbearable. The machine would often drop several big rocks at once, and I’d have to run just to keep up.
About four times a day Tiger would come by.
"Hey!" he’d growl at me above the roar of the machine. He would walk up to me with quick steps, his head down, pawing the air with his arms moving like an attacking grizzly. He always wore the same clothes—a ragged blue denim jacket, old khaki pants, a worn-out flannel shirt, and a dirty baseball hat. If you didn’t know him and saw him in downtown Salt Lake, you’d probably feel sorry for him and offer him a dollar. On the job no one ever made that mistake or even had to ask how he got his nickname.
"That’s not the way you do it," he would mumble, grabbing the shovel out of my hand. For ten minutes he would do my work. He would attack it with a vengeance terrifying to watch. No matter how far behind I was he would catch up to the machine in a quarter of the time it would have taken me. There was nothing I could do then but stand, humiliated, watching until finally he’d hand the shovel back to me.
"I should have hired your grandma," he’d snarl, and then after a disgusted glance he would stalk off.
He watched his crew like a red-tailed hawk watches a covey of mountain quail. If there was ever any indication of something out of order, the work moving just a little slow, or if the new road surface wasn’t perfectly level, or if the asphalt mix wasn’t just right, he would swoop down with that eagle nose and those fierce eyes, yelling, "Hey!"
I’m ashamed to admit it now, but I had bad feelings for the man, feelings that almost bordered on hate. I felt that way until about the second month of work.
We’d finished a stretch of road and were getting the equipment ready to move to a new location. The place looked like an ant bed that had been kicked. The work was moving fast, and the crew was on the run getting their equipment onto the back of trucks and large trailers. Tiger came suddenly into the middle of this scene waving his arms and yelling.
"Hey! Hey!"
He stopped all the work and grabbed the driver of a large crane by the arm and directed him toward the hot mix machine. The hot mix machine was a 50-foot long cylinder used to mix gravel and hot tar. When the crane reached the hot mix machine Tiger had the operator lower a hook that hung by cable from the crane’s arm. With the entire crew watching and wondering if he’d finally slipped his gears, Tiger put his foot in the hook and jerked his thumb upward. He rose up to about 40 feet, level with the top of the hot mix machine.
After reaching the cylinder, he carefully bent down and picked up a small bird’s nest full of bald-headed baby birds. The proud and very worried parents, two kingbirds, were hovering over the nest. Tiger jerked his thumb downward. When he reached the ground, he walked over to a small cottonwood tree and gently placed the nest in its branches. He had several of us put barricades around the tree.
"Hey! Hey!" he yelled when he turned around. "Get back at it. You think this is a spectator sport? I should have hired your grandmothers."
Tiger still barely nodded when I said good morning to him, and he yelled at me and took my shovel when my work wasn’t up to his standards; but after the incident with the birds I saw him in a different way.
We broke the Utah record a few weeks later for the amount of asphalt laid in a day. The inspectors said it was as smooth and as good a surface as they’d ever seen. Whenever I drive over that highway I feel a sense of pride. Tiger believed in giving a good value of work for his dollar and he expected the same from his crew. I started looking past his faults to the good in the man. By the end of the summer I not only learned to respect Tiger, but I also learned to like him.
Since then I’ve found there are many people like Tiger, and I’ve had to look past their faults to see the good. Some have become very good and valued friends.

I was raised in a place where the Church was not well known—a town now called Berkh, in northern Mongolia. I am the middle child of three boys, and growing up, we were together all the time. When my older brother went to the city to go to school, I missed him a lot. Two years later he came home for his summer vacation. That summer our family went hunting for three months in the rocky hills. It was one of the best summer vacations of my life.
My brother started telling me about a church he had joined called The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. At that time I didn’t like Christian churches, so I didn’t pay much attention to what he was telling me.
One autumn day we arrived home from hunting to discover some visitors from the city. They were from the Church that my brother had been talking about. He returned to the city with them that night. Later we heard why he had left: he had received a mission call. He hadn’t even told us he had sent in his application! My older brother left for his mission to the United States of America soon after.
The next year, when I finished high school, I went to the city to attend a university. The family I stayed with turned out to be members of the Church. On Sunday morning they invited me to come to church with them. Since I’d heard a lot about this Church, I decided that I would try going once.
I ended up attending church many times. I couldn’t help but feel peaceful every time I was there. People there were nice, always shaking hands with me. The Church was different from what I had thought. Soon I started taking discussions from the missionaries. I met with the missionaries for almost two years.
I knew I wanted to be baptized, but my baptism had to be postponed because of my struggles with the Word of Wisdom. It was difficult for me, but eventually I was ready for baptism. I was fortunate to be baptized by my older brother, who had returned from his mission only months earlier. When I remember that moment now, I cry sometimes. It was the happiest moment of my life.
After I joined the Church, my brother talked about missionary work almost every day. He always encouraged me to go on a mission. With his help, I filled out my mission application. I will never forget how happy my older brother and I were then.
One evening my brother called me to come and meet with him after work. He wanted to talk with me about some things relating to my mission. We set a time to meet at the central square.
Around this time parliamentary elections were happening in Mongolia. When we met at the central square, citizens were holding a demonstration because of the election. Police were there, but the demonstration was getting violent and scary, escalating into a riot. A big building and several cars were on fire, and people were screaming. It was frightening.
My brother and I had met far away from the demonstration, but he was worried. He gave me money for a taxi and told me to go straight home. He told me that I would see him the next day. He planned to go back to his home, which was close to where he worked. The taxi arrived, and we said a quick good-bye before I drove away.
I soon found out that the government had closed all the roads because of the rioting. Unable to get to my home, which was in the outskirts of the city, I spent the night at work instead. Armored cars and armed soldiers were everywhere. The fighting worsened, and that night a state of emergency was called. It lasted for four days.
When the state of emergency ended, my brother-in-law came to pick me up. We got to his home to find all our relatives waiting there. They were all crying. I learned that my older brother had been shot as he was walking home.
My heart felt like it was going to burst. My brother died when he was 24 because of that demonstration. The days following my brother’s death were among the most horrible of my life.
It was during this difficult time that I received my mission call. After having been through my conversion, baptism, and mission paper preparation with my brother, I was left to open my mission call alone. To my surprise, I was called to serve in my own country.
Since I was alone, I knelt down right there and thanked my Heavenly Father in prayer. And I prayed for my brother. I cried and cried while I prayed. At this time, when there was so much hurt and loneliness in my heart, I felt the Spirit witness of the plan of salvation more deeply to me, and my faith was strengthened.
Left to right: Amarsanaa and his brothers, Dorjsuren and Amarsaikhan
Even though my brother was not there to open my mission call with me, I will always be grateful to him. I am also very grateful that God has given us the plan of salvation through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. It is the most amazing plan. If we follow this plan, we will feel peace in our hearts.
The scriptures tell us: “O how great the plan of our God! For … the paradise of God must deliver up the spirits of the righteous, and the grave deliver up the body of the righteous; and the spirit and the body is restored to itself again, and all men become incorruptible, and immortal, and they are living souls” (2 Nephi 9:13).
I know that my brother is alive in the spirit world. This knowledge gives me the confidence I need to do well on my mission. I know he will be with me during the difficult times—and so will the Lord.

Last year, I experienced an increase in anxiety and depression. Although I’ve always struggled with mental health, this time was much worse. I eventually sought medical help, but an essential part of my healing also centered on reaching out to my Savior.
As I prayed for relief, I was prompted to look for light in the world around me. I tried my best. There were times when it felt like the light I found was a flicker that quickly burned out. Many times, I imagined I stood in darkness waiting for the next sunrise, knowing it would only fade again at night. Light felt fleeting and temporary.
After months of this, I experienced a profound thought: “There is light inside me.” Doctrine and Covenants 88:13 teaches that the light of Christ is “in all things” (see also verse 7). I don’t have to chase down vanishing rays of light each day. I can carry light with me all the time.
I began to see myself as sharing a part of the divine light of my Heavenly Father and of Jesus Christ, and I realized that I had access to a light that never burned out. As I reached out to my Savior, I discovered for myself that “because the universe is filled with the Light of Christ, we can spiritually learn, progress, and grow.”1

Why are the youth of the Denton Texas Fourth Ward smiling?
Maybe it’s because they’re on an excursion to the Dallas Temple, a place they all enjoy visiting. Or maybe it’s because some of them are doing baptisms for their own ancestors. But, more than likely, it’s because they met their bishop’s challenge to gather 100 names for baptism—and then some.
A few weeks before the temple trip, the bishop issued the challenge, and the whole ward went to work. By the time the youth arrived at the temple, they had enough names to baptize the equivalent of their entire ward.
Elder L. Lionel Kendrick of the Seventy, who was then the president of the Dallas Temple, said the youth had done something unique in the history of the Dallas Temple. He gave the youth a special blessing.
“It was pretty powerful,” says Merrin McWilliams, 14. “The people who work in the temple have a great privilege. It’s the Lord’s house.”
Many of the youth say they had special feelings and witnesses of the spirit while doing baptisms, especially for members of their own families.
Fifteen-year-old John Searcy was baptized for his great-grandfather.
“I know he was special to my dad since he named me after him,” says John. “I’m glad we did it.”

Few are aware of the pure Christian service being administered at refugee camps in Thailand and in the Philippines by our missionary sisters. Basically, these sisters are restricted to teaching the English language and Western culture, but there is a deeper teaching that takes place through their pure love and sweet attitude toward these displaced people.
The story is told of a young camp refugee from Cambodia who was relocated in California. He found his way into one of our Church meetinghouses because the name of the Church on the sign out front corresponded with the one he used to look at each day on the name tag of the wonderful missionary sister who taught him at the camp. People don’t soon forget acts of simple kindness. Pure love can transcend all differences.

When I was 11 years old, my bishop called me in for an interview in his office. He said, “Ulisses, it’s time to start your preparation to go on a mission.” I was astonished because I was only 11 years old! But he said, “We have to start that process now.”
My bishop said, “I’ll interview you once in a while to see how your progress is.” Then he gave me some direction. He taught me about the commandments, the priesthood, worthiness, and honesty. I was so impressed because he looked in my eyes and said, “You will serve a mission if you follow the directions I am giving you.”
I always remembered his words, especially when I faced a challenge. For example, one time my mother gave me money to go to a store to buy some fruit. For some reason the cashier gave me back more money than I gave her to pay for the fruit. I started walking home, and when I opened my hand, I saw that I had more money than I had started with.
Satan tried to convince me that I could keep the money for myself. I thought, “I have some money to do whatever I want, and then I will give back the correct change to my mother.” But then I thought, “No, that’s not what the bishop told me. To be a missionary I have to be honest.” I felt the Spirit at that time and went back to the store to give back the money. I felt good in my heart. I thought, “I was honest, I obeyed the commandments, and I am preparing for my mission. I will be a missionary, and I need to be honest.”

It was a beautiful Sunday morning. Augusto sat on his porch to enjoy the sunshine. His daughter, Mylene, climbed onto his lap.
“Tatay (Dad),” she said, “why don’t we go to church like my friends?”
Augusto wasn’t sure what to say.
“Well,” he said finally, “your mom and I went to different churches before we got married. But afterwards we stopped. We still believe in God and study the Bible, though.”
Mylene nodded. But Augusto kept thinking about her question. Maybe he did need to take his family to church.
Augusto decided to pray. “If you want me to serve in a church or do anything for you, just let me know,” he told Heavenly Father.
A few days later, there was a knock at the door. It was two young men in white shirts and black nametags. They said they were from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Augusto had many questions for them. For nine months, he listened to them teach. Finally, he decided to be baptized. He promised God that he would always do his best to obey and help others. His wife, Myrna, was baptized one month later. And little Mylene was happy to go to church!
Augusto and his family helped the Church to grow. They helped build the Church’s first chapel in the Philippines. Augusto also served as a branch president several times. Even though it was hard, Augusto remembered the promise he made at his baptism to do his best.
Years passed. Augusto’s family grew, and so did the Church. When the first stake in the Philippines was organized, Augusto was the stake president. Mylene grew up and got married in the temple. So did Augusto’s other children. Some served missions too.
Eventually, Augusto was called to be a mission president in the Philippines. He helped the missionaries have faith and share the gospel, just like the missionaries who taught him.
One day, Augusto got a phone call from the prophet. He asked Augusto to serve as a General Authority. That meant Augusto would teach other leaders in the Church. It also meant he would give a talk in general conference!
When it was his turn to speak, Augusto stepped up to the pulpit. He took a deep breath. He talked about the faithful members in the Philippines. He talked about the missionaries there who worked so hard. And he shared his testimony of God’s love.
As he sat back down, Augusto felt happy. He knew Heavenly Father had helped him keep the promise he made at baptism. And no matter what happened, Augusto knew he would keep that promise for the rest of his life.

First, let us demonstrate what we say we already know so that our preparation to learn even more is evident to our earthly parents, to our Heavenly Father, and to others around us in the congregation.
Why are we constantly reminded of things? Why are the basic principles repeated so frequently? Perhaps we have not demonstrated in our daily behavior our ability to do those things. Long ago, King Benjamin advised his congregation, “If you believe all these things see that ye do them.”5
If we are demonstrating what we have learned, even a reminder will be heard without offense. When I was sixteen, I backed out of our steep driveway directly into the only car parked on the other side of the street. I think that over the decades I’ve now proven I can navigate my parents’ driveway, and because of that, their reminders are not heard the same way they were the first few times after the accident when I had not yet “proved myself.”6

“At the monthly Super Saturdays, the youth participate in various activities,” said Iclea Couto Megre, seminary teacher for the Niteroi ward. “Every month, the youth are given new goals to meet for the competition and, with each accomplished goal, points are given toward the year-end total,” she said. At the May activity the youth learned how to use the family history library. Each team was challenged to bring one hundred names for temple work to the next activity. The tribe of Judah accepted the challenge and doubled it, bringing two hundred names to the activity, earning enough points to put them in first place and take home the trophy for the month.

As a Brazilian, I was surprised when I received my mission call to serve not in Brazil or even in South America but in the Texas Houston South Mission in the United States. My surprise soon turned to deep gratitude.
Four days after I arrived in my first area, the bishop of the local ward invited my companion and me to go with him to the hospital to visit Brother Noel Stevenson, an older member who was ill with leukemia. When I met Brother Stevenson, I was amazed that he started speaking Portuguese. He told me he had served a mission to Brazil in the 1950s. He mentioned several cities where he had served, including Ponta Grossa in the state of Paraná.
“When you were in Ponta Grossa did you know Raul Pimentel?” I asked hesitantly.
With an expression of joy, he replied, “Yes, I knew Raul. I baptized him.”
I told Brother Stevenson that Raul Pimentel was my grandfather, the first member of the Church in our family. We embraced, and tears rolled down our faces.
Then I told him that my grandfather was 84 and still active in the Church. His 8 children were also active, all who are married having married in the temple and 5 having served full-time missions. And his 30 grandchildren were active in the Church as well. As we talked, the Spirit of the Lord filled my heart with joy and gratitude.
My grandfather was baptized in 1958 by two American missionaries. He had heard that the other elder had now passed away, but he had never had any news about Elder Stevenson. When my grandfather learned that I had met the missionary who baptized him, he was overwhelmed with joy.
He and Brother Stevenson began exchanging e-mail messages almost every week. Then the e-mails stopped abruptly. I received a telephone call telling me that Brother Noel Stevenson had passed away.
Although I felt sad, I felt even more grateful that the Lord had allowed me to meet the man who brought the blessings of the gospel to my family. This experience helped me be a better missionary and strengthened my testimony that mission calls are inspired.