Gospel Story Finder

It all started with a stutter. My mom would tell you it’s cute, but I would beg to differ. The first day of first grade, the teacher told us to stand up one by one and introduce ourselves. When it was my turn, I stood and immediately got nervous in front of the sea of people.
“H-h-h-hi, m-m-m-m-m-my name’s Smith.”
I was embarrassed that I had messed up in front of my new class. I sat down, and a girl looked me in my eyes (it felt like she looked into my soul) and said, “Why can’t you talk right?”
That day I decided I was different and that, because I was different, I was less important than everyone else.
Over time, my self-esteem got worse. I didn’t believe I could have friends who truly cared about me. I didn’t believe I was enough to make my parents proud. And ultimately, I didn’t believe there was a God who had sent His Son to die for me.
At the age of nine I was exposed to pornography online. I hadn’t gone looking for what I saw. But because I believed I wasn’t important, I thought that if I told my parents, they would be ashamed of me. This slowly led me down a path of addiction.
When I was 10 years old, I got onto social media, which gave me more ways to find pornography. At the same time, I started to compare my life with the “perfect” lives I saw on social media. I saw posts of people on vacation or hanging out with friends when I wasn’t invited. I saw people with these “perfect” bodies, and I didn’t think mine was good enough. With this cycle of self-loathing and addiction, my life spiraled quickly. At 14 years old, I planned to take my own life.
On a day I felt like my life was falling apart, my parents found out about my trials and guided me toward the Savior and His Atonement. It was a turning point in my life. I met with my bishop, and he and my dad gave me a blessing. It was the first time in six years I had felt the Spirit. It felt tangible.
Focus on Joy, by Michael Malm
It’s taken time and effort, but because of my Savior, Jesus Christ, I’ve been able to repent and grow stronger as a person. I’ve seen beautiful miracles in my life that are a direct result of the saving power of Christ’s Atonement.
I now spend my time as a public speaker, traveling the country and speaking to youth groups, schools, and communities about the harmful effects of social media and pornography. I teach about the importance of mental health and the need for suicide prevention. I’ve built a platform on social media that I can use for good. I just graduated high school. I’ve built two businesses and strong relationships with those I love. Most importantly, I’ve found God again. I have a sure testimony of God the Father, His Son, Jesus Christ, and Their power and influence.
None of this has happened because I have extra special talents or unusual abilities. Through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, I’ve been able to repent, overcome challenges, and find peace and healing. If you think you’re too far gone, my answer to you is that you’re wrong. I was willing to surrender to the redeeming power of Jesus Christ. You can too.

Silver Rain paddled her birchbark canoe with swift, sure strokes, dipping the spoon-shaped wooden oar first on one side of the frail shell and then the other. The bow was headed toward a distant point of land.
Her grandmother, Mourning Dove, seated in the front of the canoe facing her, watched with approval. There were no noisy splashes or roiling of the water. The oar blade was inserted cleanly and lifted the same way at the end of each stroke. Bronzed muscles rippled in the arms of the slightly built girl as the boat glided silently across the deep blue water.
Mourning Dove sighed. Where have the years gone? she wondered. It seemed only yesterday that she had been as young and strong as Silver Rain. Now, in the twilight of her life, the older woman would sit by the cooking fire grinding meal or she would tend her numerous small grandchildren while her sons’ wives did all the more strenuous chores. She had begun to eat a little less food each day, feeling that she was no longer useful to the tribe.
“Where now, Grandmother?” Silver Rain asked quietly, letting the canoe drift. They had rounded the long finger of land, but how could this be the secret place of stunning beauty Mourning Dove had yearned to visit once more? They had reached a dead end. This was only a shallow neck in the huge blue lake where dense forest and tangled vines grew to the edge of the water. The girl was deeply disappointed. There was no hidden valley with a lacy waterfall, giant ferns, riotously blooming flowers, or moss-covered boulders here. The tribe had camped at many sites since then. Perhaps the years she carried had robbed Mourning Dove’s memory.
“There! We go through the trees there,” Mourning Dove cried, pointing at what seemed to be a solid wall of trees. Her eyes glowed with anticipation and she turned to face forward.
“Yes, Grandmother,” Silver Rain murmured gently. She paddled slowly, dreading the old one’s humiliation when she realized that her fading memory had tricked her.
Suddenly the girl smiled with relief and quickened her strokes. There was a narrow path of water between the trees! It was like a silver thread. They were soon swallowed up by a cool green tunnel. The canoe raced over still, crystal clear water with little effort.
Silver Rain, awed by the eerie lush beauty of the tunnel of overhanging trees, was not prepared for their abrupt emergence into the hidden valley nor for the cry of pain from Mourning Dove when she saw only a blackened, burned-over valley.
Silver Rain had been named for the lacy waterfall that bounced down the cliff like a silver veil. And only that remained unchanged. The once-beautiful secret place was an ugly desolation. Months ago a forest fire, probably kindled by a lightning strike, had raged through these wooded hills. Black ashes and charred tree stumps littered the area. Not a single green leaf or blade of grass was left. It was a place of death except for a silvery speckled trout that leaped in a pool near the boulders beneath the waterfall.
After her first agonized cry, Mourning Dove sat motionless. She did not speak again on their return to the camp. Then she entered her tepee and turned her face to the wall. She lay unmoving, refusing to even look upon the food and water Silver Rain carried to her.
Silver Rain fled to the forest in misery. How could she rekindle her grandmother’s spirit? She sat quietly, watching a gray squirrel scurrying over a deep carpet of pine needles and cones. Is he hungry and searching for an acorn he buried last autumn? If he fails to remember the spot, a giant oak will stand here someday, she mused.
The thought electrified Silver Rain. Racing to the village, she gathered the older children and whispered instructions. They snatched up baskets and scattered throughout the forest. The children worked together until dark, returning many times with their baskets filled with small trees, shrubs, ferns, and wild flowers. The women joined their efforts, carefully placing wet balls of mud and moss around fragile roots before repacking them in large storage baskets.
Mourning Dove finally appeared at the door of her tepee and grasped Silver Rain’s wrist as the girl rushed by with a load of greenery. “Is something wrong? Why is there so much commotion? Have the men returned from their hunt?” she asked weakly.
“No, the braves have not yet returned, Grandmother, and there is no trouble,” Silver Rain said, smiling. “We are noisy and busy because tomorrow at dawn we will start to restore your lovely green valley! Many baskets of seeds and small saplings have been gathered. We shall spread out over the hills and plant them. In a few years a new forest will rise from the ashes of the one you remember—but only if I can find your secret entrance alone,” she said slyly, watching her grandmother’s startled face.
The girl’s dark eyes twinkled with mischief as she started on and then turned back. “It’s too bad you have no appetite, Grandmother,” she sighed. “Without food you will be too weak to ride in my canoe and guide me.”
Mourning Dove bristled. “Your tricks do not fool me, Silver Rain. However, I do feel a bit hungry now, I think. Fetch my supper and I will eat. Tomorrow I shall lead you back swiftly. Your fumbling search for the secret water path might cause the plants to wilt. And I shall plant seedlings along the banks of the pools and the lower slopes while you young ones cover the high ground.”
At dawn fifteen canoes left the campsite. Each looked like a tiny, green, floating island as they fell in line. Mourning Dove sat proudly in the bow of Silver Rain’s leading craft that was almost hidden by greenery. Her lap was filled with watercress, water hyacinths, and cattail reeds to restock the deep pool at the base of the waterfall where the speckled trout splashed.
The emptied canoes rode high in the water as they glided back in the light of a full moon. The braves had returned from a successful hunt and a feast had been prepared. The chief announced that tomorrow the tribe would leave this site and continue its trek to northern hunting grounds. Silver Rain felt a pang as she thought that it might be a year or more before they camped here again, a year before she could see how the green growth was spreading over the blackened land.
Mourning Dove stood at the water’s edge and gazed off toward her hidden valley. It was not likely that she would ever see it again, but it did not matter. The beauty would return slowly, perhaps in time for Silver Rain’s grandchildren to enjoy it. Nature would have mended the ravaged valley with the help of birds, squirrels and other small creatures, and with seeds wafted on the wind. But she and the children had sped up the process by many years. The thrill of such an accomplishment made her weariness fade away. To think that together they had restored a forest today!

I decided to start my own Web site. But after a few days of making the site, I felt very uncomfortable because I hadn’t asked my parents for permission first. I didn’t want them to know that I had a Web site, but something inside me told me to tell them and show them my site. When I showed Mom and Dad my Web site they were pleased that I had been careful not to use my last name, but told me that I would have to delete it because they couldn’t be sure it would be secure (safe). I’m glad that my parents are helping me understand what dangers are out there and how I can be safe. Most of all, though, I’m thankful to the Holy Ghost for warning me to tell my parents.

I could barely believe it. I was 30 feet under water with an air tank on my back, a regulator in my mouth, a mask and flippers on, and a sudden fear of fainting.
I had been taking practice dives with my scuba diving class for the past four weeks, and everything had gone without a hitch. Of course, those dives had been in a shallow, clear pool.
As I followed my scuba instructor down into our first real dive site—a deep, water-filled crater—I quickly found that the water was much murkier than I had imagined. In a matter of seconds I couldn’t see past my feet. After a minute or two of slowly sinking, I saw a structure of ropes and floating PVC pipes loom out of the dark water, marking the depth at 30 feet.
Our instructor motioned for us to hold on to the pipes and wait while he went around the group, testing our ability to read our water depth and air supply.
I clung to the pipe and stared at my white knuckles. They looked blue-gray in the cold, underwater light. The pressure was pushing uncomfortably on my ears, and all I could hear was the strange, empty whooshing of water around me. I had never felt more trapped. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t hear, I could barely see. And what was worse, as I stared at my hands, I realized that they were tingling. So were my cheeks. It was that strange sensation I always got from breathing too shallowly. I thought I must be hyperventilating.
A panicked question flitted through my mind: what would happen if I fainted? Frightened, I looked to the side at my classmates. But I had no way to tell them what was happening. I looked up, but the surface was just a dim glimmer of light. I didn’t have the courage to try swimming to it. Fear kept me clinging to the pipe. Then, instinctively, I began to pray.
I pled in my heart that I would calm down, that the tingling would subside and I would be able to safely complete the dive. As I finished, it struck me that my Heavenly Father really can hear me, no matter where I am. There at 30 feet under water I could do no more than think the prayer in my mind and feel it in my heart, but that was enough. He heard me and answered.
My body relaxed, and the feelings and fear of fainting slowly dissolved. I completed the dive and swam with my class to the surface.

Not long ago, Jeff Pugh was driving across state to attend a session of Especially for Youth. He never made it. He was involved in a serious car accident and woke
“The first moments I remember of the whole ordeal were about a week and a half after it happened. There were unfamiliar faces in my room. I got to know these faces very well. They were the youth of the Tulsa (Oklahoma) Second Ward. The young women brought me sweets to eat. The young men came and talked to me, and one time helped push me in my wheelchair outside for a conversation.
“I am writing so that the Tulsa Second Ward youth can be recognized for their unselfish love and their Christlike example. They helped a scared and confused young man feel their love. This happening helped build my testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel and helped me realize there really are people out there like the ones you hear about in Sunday School stories. Thanks.”

This story happened in the USA.
Charlotte hated loud noises! She didn’t like the way sounds pounded in her ears or echoed in her head. Even when she knew she was safe, she still felt tense when cars screeched, crowds cheered, or drums boomed.
And Charlotte really did not like fireworks!
Her family tried lots of things to comfort her when there were loud noises. Dad bought her special earmuffs to help block the noise. When there was thunder, Mom snuggled with her under the covers. Charlotte also prayed for help not to be scared.
All of these things helped. But loud noises still made her feel afraid.
“We are going to a special firework show at the park tonight,” Mom told Charlotte. “Do you want to come?”
Charlotte frowned. “But fireworks are so loud.”
“Now that you’re older, fireworks might be more fun to watch,” Mom said. “All of your friends will be there. We can even bring your special earmuffs. Do you think you can give it a try?”
Charlotte sighed. “OK. I guess I’ll try.”
The fireworks show at the park started off perfectly. Charlotte and her friends ran around on the grass, sharing treats and playing games. Soon the sky grew dark. Charlotte sat down and pulled on her earmuffs as she looked nervously at the sky.
BOOM! BOOM! CRACK!
Charlotte’s heart beat faster, and her chest felt tight. She jumped up and tried to get away from the booming all around her.
Mom ran after Charlotte and scooped her up. They sat back down, and Mom hugged her close. Tears fell down Charlotte’s face.
“I’m sorry that scared you,” Mom said. “I’m right here. Let’s focus on the colors so you don’t notice the sound so much. What do you see with your eyes?”
Charlotte took a big breath. “I see gold, and red, and green.”
“Now use your nose,” Mom said. “What do you smell?”
“I can smell the smoke and the grass,” said Charlotte. “And popcorn!”
“What other senses can you use right now?”
Charlotte closed her eyes. “I can feel them. When the fireworks explode, I can feel the shaking in my chest.”
“Can you taste anything?” Mom asked.
Charlotte stuck out her tongue. “l can’t taste the fireworks.” She laughed.
All of this made Charlotte curious. How do people make the different colors? she wondered. Why do fireworks explode? How do they make different shapes? Fireworks didn’t seem so scary now.
“Mom, fireworks are amazing!” Charlotte said.
As Mom tucked Charlotte into bed that night, Charlotte asked, “Why doesn’t Heavenly Father answer my prayers when I ask Him to make the loud noises go away?”
Mom thought for a moment. “Heavenly Father doesn’t always take away scary things,” she said. “But sometimes He helps us see things in a different way or gives us people who help comfort us.”
“Like how He helped me tonight!” said Charlotte.
“That’s right!” Mom smiled. “You went to the firework show even though you were scared. Then Heavenly Father helped you calm your fears. He also helped you see the beauty of the fireworks by using your other senses.”
Charlotte thought of the bright colors in the sky and smiled. She still didn’t like loud noises. They still scared her. But she knew Heavenly Father could always help her to be brave.
“Fear thou not; for I am with thee” (Isaiah 41:10).
Illustration by Adam Howling

My husband, Alvaro, entered his first marathon while he was in high school in Colombia. Much to his surprise, he won!
After that, he decided to start running more seriously. But he needed a pair of running shoes, and they were expensive. His parents were struggling to support their family of eight, and he hesitated to ask them if they would buy the shoes. However, when they realized how determined he was to run, they bought the shoes.
Alvaro joined the high school track team and trained daily. But as his first competition approached, the shoes began to wear out. Two weeks before the race, the soles tore away from the tops of the shoes. Alvaro didn’t want to ask his parents for another pair of shoes, so he found some thread and sewed them back together.
On the day of the race, Alvaro started off strongly and stayed comfortably with the group of runners as they circled the track. With only a few laps to go, he pulled away from the other runners to take the lead. At that same moment, the wire worked loose from the sole of his shoe and began to dig into his foot. Despite the pain he felt as the wire pierced his skin, he thought to himself, “I can’t give up.”
He didn’t. Running with determination, he crossed the finish line in first place—but with his foot cut and bleeding in several places.

“Read the scriptures again? I’ve already done that for two years and made it through each of the standard works four times!”
Thus wrote a returned missionary after I challenged my institute class to read and ponder the scriptures twenty minutes each day for a month.
I suppose I made that assignment partly out of curiosity. I wanted to see if these modern young people could discover for themselves in a month’s time some of the power that ancient prophets found in the scriptures available to them.
Nephi wrote, “For my soul delighteth in the scriptures, and my heart pondereth them, and writeth them for the learning and profit of my children.” (2 Ne. 4:15.) He also said that the words that he had written would be made strong unto his people, “for it persuadeth them to do good … and it speaketh of Jesus, and persuadeth them to believe in him, and to endure to the end, which is life eternal.” (2 Ne. 33:4.) He further said his words are the words of truth, “and they teach all men that they should do good.” (2 Ne. 33:10.)
Following his encounter with Sheram, Jacob described the Nephites in these words: “And it came to pass that peace and the love of God was restored again among the people; and they searched the scriptures, and hearkened no more to the words of this wicked man.” (Jacob 7:23.)
Alma described the effect of his words upon some of the people of Ammonihah by saying, “many of them did believe on his words, and began to repent, and to search the scriptures.” (Alma 14:1.)
The four sons of Mosiah, in the midst of missionary work following their conversion, “waxed strong in the knowledge of the truth; for they were men of a sound understanding and they had searched the scriptures diligently, that they might know the word of God.” (Alma 17:2.)
The Psalmist wrote:
“O how love I thy law! It is my meditation all the day.
“Thou through thy commandments hast made me wiser than mine enemies: for they are ever with me.
“I have more understanding than all my teachers: for thy testimonies are my meditation.
“I understand more than the ancients, because I keep thy precepts.
“I have refrained my feet from every evil way, that I might keep thy word.
“I have not departed from thy judgements: for thou hast taught me.
“How sweet are thy words unto my taste! yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth!
“Through thy precepts I get understanding: therefore I hate every false way. (Ps. 119:97–104.)
I used these scriptures to help my students understand that it was not enough just to read. Prophets have used the words diligently, pondering, meditating, and feasting to explain how we should approach the scriptures. Clearly we should read with careful thought and much pondering. Even when we are not reading we should reflect constantly on God’s word. The prophets have promised that this will lead to new spiritual insights and to greater righteousness.
The scriptures show us that we can ponder in two ways: we can meditate on the scripture itself, or we can relate what we read to our personal lives.
Moroni taught the first kind of pondering when he exhorted Book of Mormon readers to ponder in their hearts what they read. (Moro. 10:3.) Nephi was caught away in the spirit while he sat pondering in his heart the things that his father had seen. (1 Ne. 11:1.)
The eyes of Sidney Rigdon and Joseph Smith were opened following a studious and prayerful consideration of John 5:29. Joseph Smith stated, “… while we meditated upon these things, the Lord touched the eyes of our understandings and they were opened. …” (D&C 76:19. See also D&C 76:11–18.)
The second kind of ponderings led to the Sacred Grove. The Prophet Joseph said of James 1:5:
“Never did any passage of scripture come with more power to the heart of man than this did at this time to mine. It seemed to enter with great force into every feeling of my heart. I reflected on it again and again, knowing that if any person needed wisdom from God, I did. …
At length I came to the conclusion that I must either remain in darkness and confusion, or else I must do as James directs. …” (JS—H 1:12–13.)
This kind of reflection can help all of us make commitments that will decrease darkness and increase light. We must ask questions as we read, questions such as, How does this apply in my life today? or What lesson can I learn from this?
I was confident that if my students would read the scriptures in this way, they would find in them the same inspiration that Nephi and Moroni did. I encouraged them to start with the Book of Mormon, feeling it would probably be the most powerful influence. Elder Marion G. Romney has said, “I am persuaded by my own experience and that of my loved ones, as well as by the statement of the Prophet Joseph Smith, that one can get and keep closer to the Lord by reading the Book of Mormon than by reading other books.”
In order to evaluate the experience, I assigned each student to write a reaction at the end of the month.
Those reactions justified my confidence in the scriptures. The returned missionary who had resented the assignment wrote, “I have rediscovered an exciting adventure. I have once again astonished myself with the wonder of learning and understanding the gospel as it has been presented to us by the prophets. The gospel has become even more relevant in these last few weeks than ever before. I understand more clearly that faith and the strength of one’s testimony are things that vary from day to day and must be kept current.”
The other students’ responses were equally enthusiastic. It was apparent that scripture study affected them just as it affected the ancient prophets. It vitalized their prayers, improved their sensitivity to spiritual things, increased their productivity, strengthened their self-mastery, and changed their attitude toward life.
One student spoke of a more sensitive conscience: “It seemed to have a residual effect on my conscience of not letting me rationalize so easily . … Especially since I had become engaged, I had noticed that I was trying to rationalize a few things, play it close to the line between black and white. I don’t say reading the scriptures was the only influence, but I am glad for their influence.”
Several students spoke of a new spirituality. A law student wrote: “One significant thing distinguishing the past year for me is the matter of scripture as a means of maintaining spiritual sensitivity. The results have been so undeniably stimulating to the spirit that I am now confident that daily scripture study shall be a life-long pursuit.”
A girl active in her sorority found that scripture reading helped her stay spiritual at school: “Well, I decided that if I promised to read the scriptures for thirty days, I would do it for thirty days—which wouldn’t do me too much good. So I promised to do it for the rest of my life. That was about six months ago. I’ve almost read the Book of Mormon three times since then and oh the difference! It has made possible the thing that I have always thought impossible, which is to be spiritual during the school year.”
Some students who had never enjoyed the scriptures discovered what a delight they could be. Wrote one girl, “I have tried to read the Book of Mormon many times, and each time felt that something was lacking. I had to force myself because I didn’t enjoy it and couldn’t figure out what was wrong. This year I’ve loved every minute of reading the scriptures. I now read the Book of Mormon every morning, and I wouldn’t miss it for anything. I thought it would be terribly hard to get in the habit of reading every morning, but it hasn’t been.”
Another wrote: “I am one who often used to ‘tune out’ when scriptures were read, not purposely, just automatically, and also one of those people who has never read the Book of Mormon. I started to read it two or three times but never got past 2 Nephi. … my whole attitude toward the scriptures and even the gospel itself has changed. Not that I didn’t feel a testimony before, but my testimony was built on faith and not scriptural knowledge. Now I feel that I have a much better understanding of the gospel and how it applies to me personally. Every time I read the scriptures at home or when we read them in class, I feel a closeness to God and Jesus Christ and more of a desire to do good. Even my prayers have changed, and I’ve only read through Enos.”
Students discovered that the scriptures brought them closer to God and made their whole lives happier. A boy living in the dorms wrote: “When I read scriptures out of the Book of Mormon, it seemed as though my whole day went more smoothly. I was happier with people. My life became cleaner. I would pray night and morning, which was hard to do before. I can control habits easier and ignore social pressures that are in the dorms. I really can’t explain the feelings I have, but all I know is that I feel closer to God.”
A freshman girl said: “It is amazing how quickly a life can change, especially when it is your own. Six months ago I would have said that any kind of a drastic change could not take place in a short period of time. But since I have been reading the scriptures every day my whole attitude toward life has changed. I once felt that the scriptures were irrelevant to today, that they applied to the days of the prophets of long ago. But as I have read and studied the Book of Mormon, I am amazed at the insight that can be gained by applying the principles within. I find a constant challenge to improve—not just the challenge, but the means by which I can work on that challenge.”
A returned missionary active in campus affairs found his life changed when he read and pondered the scriptures: “My reading in the scriptures was a fantastic experience—so much so that it will be only natural to continue. I can make a valid comparison of the changes it can bring about because I had a break during the quarter when I didn’t read every day (about two to three weeks). Before and since this period my daily reading was a longed-for thing—something that increased in interest each day. During those days my thoughts were clearer, my mind more at ease, my temperament with others more appealing and less offensive. But above all, my thoughts were cleaner and purer than ever before, and thus I was happier because my soul was in much better harmony with the Lord. During the period when I didn’t read daily, I did some regretful things, and my desires in prayer slipped. I believe meaningful prayer and scripture study go hand in hand.
“I thought I knew the Book of Mormon from my study while on my mission and especially after reading it several times in another language. But to ‘ponder in your heart’ is something special—something that can be done over and over. This is what I’m doing each morning now and am enjoying it immensely.”
The scriptures are for people of all ages. Young children can also learn to read, ponder, and appreciate them. A father recently assigned two of his children, ages eight and nine, to read four chapters from the New Testament each Sunday. At first they had to be prodded, but they gradually developed interest and even began to read on other days of the week. Soon they were reading before going to bed each night. When they finished the New Testament, they started the Book of Mormon. Within three months the older child finished the Book of Mormon and started it again.
The lesson to be learned from these experiences is clear. We owe it to ourselves to begin a program of daily scripture study. In that way we can experience the “well of living water” spoken of by the Lord (D&C 63:23) and the “Divine Anchor” described by President McKay. Shortly before his death, President McKay challenged the members of the Church to try harder than ever to be worthy of daily inspiration and influence from the Lord. Daily meditation based on the scriptures will help us feel closer to the Savior, his teachings, and his work. But remember, the more consistently we read, the more natural and delightful the experience becomes. A returned missionary writes, “A year after my return from the mission field I’m still spending at least a half hour daily reading the scriptures. It’s so much a part of me now that I can’t imagine my day going by without it. It seems as normal as eating.”
As the Prophet Joseph Smith stated, “The things of God are of deep import; and time, and experience, and careful and ponderous and solemn thoughts can only find them out.”

It was a calm day at my job as a volunteer firefighter, so I decided to read the Book of Mormon. When one of my co-workers saw me reading, he asked if I knew how we could put on the armor of God in modern times. As we were talking, the alarm sounded. There was a fire in a nearby store.
We quickly put on our firefighting gear and went straight there. The flames were huge, and as we approached the store, something exploded in our direction. The flames engulfed us. The explosion disoriented my co-worker and me for a few seconds. But thanks to our equipment and protective clothing, we suffered no injury.
When we returned to the station after fighting the fire, I asked my co-worker if he remembered his question about the armor of God. He said he did, and I explained that the armor of God is like our protective firefighting gear. We must always wear it so we can withstand the powerful attacks of the adversary. If we keep the commandments, we will be blessed with the protective power of the armor of God, and the Holy Ghost will be our guide.

It was the day after Christmas, 1946, in Santa Clara, Utah. As a young nine-year-old boy, I asked my mother if I could take my Christmas gift, a new bow and arrow set, and go up on the hill behind our home to hunt for rabbits. It was late in the afternoon, and Mother was reluctant, but with my coaxing she agreed to let me go, but only if I was back home before dark.
As I reached the top of the hill, I put an arrow on the bow and started walking quietly through the sage and chaparral bushes, hoping to see a rabbit feeding at the base of the brush where the tender grass was still green.
I was startled by a large jackrabbit that jumped out from a sage bush right in front of me. I pulled back on the bow, taking a quick aim, and let the arrow fly at the fleeing, darting rabbit. The arrow missed, and the rabbit disappeared through the brush ahead.
I went to where I thought the arrow had hit the ground to retrieve it. Only three arrows came with the bow, and I didn’t want to lose this one. I looked where the arrow was supposed to be, but it wasn’t there. I looked all around the area where I was sure it landed, but I couldn’t find it.
The sun was setting in the west; I knew that it would be dark in about 30 minutes, and I didn’t want to be late getting home. I searched again the area where the arrow should have been, looking carefully under every bush, but it was not to be found.
Time was running out, and I needed to start for home to get there before dark. I decided to pray and ask Heavenly Father to help me find the arrow. I dropped to my knees, closed my eyes, and prayed to my Father in Heaven. I told Him I didn’t want to lose my new arrow, and I asked Him to show me where to find it.
While still on my knees, I opened my eyes, and there in the sagebrush immediately in front of me, at eye level, I saw the colored feathers of the arrow partly hidden by the branches. I grabbed the arrow and began to run for home, arriving there just before dark.
I will never forget that special experience. Our Heavenly Father had answered my prayer. That was the first time I had prayed for Him to help me, and He did! That evening I learned to have faith and trust in my Heavenly Father.

I recently had the opportunity to minister to a widowed sister named Franca Calamassi, who is suffering from a debilitating illness. Sister Calamassi was the first member of her family to join the restored Church of Jesus Christ. Although her husband was never baptized, he consented to meet with the missionaries and often attended Church meetings. Despite these circumstances, Sister Calamassi remained faithful and raised her four children in the gospel of Jesus Christ. A year following her husband’s passing, Sister Calamassi took her children to the temple, and they participated in sacred ordinances and were sealed together as a family. The promises associated with these ordinances brought her much hope, joy, and happiness that helped her carry on in life.

When the first symptoms of the disease began to appear, her bishop gave her a blessing. At that time she told her bishop that she was ready to accept the Lord’s will, expressing her faith to be healed as well as her faith to endure her illness to the end.

During my visit, while holding Sister Calamassi’s hand and looking into her eyes, I saw an angelic glow emanating from her countenance—reflecting her confidence in God’s plan and her perfect brightness of hope in the Father’s love and plan for her.25 I felt her firm determination to endure in her faith until the end by taking up her cross, despite the challenges she was facing. This sister’s life is a testimony of Christ, a statement of her faith and devotion to Him.

“Are General Authorities human?” I suppose this is a question that is in many minds and has been from the very beginning. It arises, in the very nature of things, because of the high regard in which we hold the offices that these Brethren are called to fill.
I recall an incident from early Church history, from the days of persecutions and difficulties. Heber C. Kimball, then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, found himself in circumstances where he sought hospitality from a member of the Church, a widow woman. She offered him what she had—bread and milk—and provided a room with a bed for him. He went to retire. She thought: “Here’s my opportunity. I would like to find out [and this is, in effect, the same old question: Are General Authorities human?] I would like to find out what an Apostle says when he prays to the Lord.” So after the door was closed, she crept quietly up to it to listen. She heard Brother Kimball sit down on the bed. She heard each of his shoes fall to the floor. She heard him lean back on the bed and then utter these words: “Oh Lord, bless Heber; he is so tired.”
… This is a subject about which people often have incorrect concepts. Many people had this same question in their minds during the time of Joseph Smith. He said: “I was this morning introduced to a man from the east. After hearing my name, he remarked that I was nothing but a man, indicating by this expression, that he had supposed that a person to whom the Lord should see fit to reveal His will, must be something more than a man. He seemed to have forgotten the saying that fell from the lips of St. James, that [Elijah] was a man subject to like passions as we are, yet he had such power with God, that He, in answer to his prayers, shut the heavens that they gave no rain for the space of three years and six months; and again, in answer to his prayer, the heavens gave forth rain, and the earth gave forth fruit [see James 5:17–18]. Indeed, such is the darkness and ignorance of this generation, that they look upon it as incredible that a man should [speak] with his Maker.”1

One of the projects that the students at Mount Si really had to work hard to complete was the painting of the school halls. It was a huge job, but Sue and other student government officers decided it could be done. They needed more than 200 students to come and help with each step of the project—preparing the walls, applying an undercoat of paint, then the main coat of paint, and finally, the colored trim.

The assistant principal, said, “I walked into the first meeting, and I knew right then that they were going to succeed because Sue was organized and ready to begin. In a notebook she had inspirational sayings and a list of what needed to be done and a schedule for each step. And she had invited all the right people to the meeting. She had invited some students that she saw as leaders. She had invited someone from the school’s maintenance staff. She got me there. She understands organizational skills.”

The big painting project was successful, but not before Sue managed some last-minute crises. The first day of the four-day project was bright and sunny. For that time of year, a sunny day was rare. “Suddenly I panicked,” said Sue. “Who would want to come paint the school on a nice day like that?”

But people did show up—in time for the second crisis. After the walls were prepared for painting, it was time to apply the undercoat of paint. Just as more than one hundred students were ready to start painting, the school custodian rushed up to Sue and showed her the label on one of the cans. The flammable undercoat was supposed to be used only in well ventilated areas. They opened every window and door, turned off the electricity to avoid sparks, and covered all the electrical outlets. In the meantime, Sue had retreated to ask for some additional help. “I found an empty room, and got down on my knees.” Everything went smoothly. The danger was avoided. And the group had a great time. It was hard work but really a lot of fun too.

After giving the school halls a new coat of pale gray paint with maroon trim, the students under Sue’s leadership took new pride in their school. Now, if anyone even thinks about defacing or vandalizing the walls, they are warned by other students, “Don’t do it. I painted this wall, and nobody is going to write on it.”

Renee Huggins was born in Haiti, a country located on a small island in the Caribbean Sea. When she was eight years old, she and her mother moved to Utah to be closer to Renee’s aunts, uncles, and cousins.
After the move, Renee’s family and friends told her and her mother about the gospel. Soon the missionaries started teaching them.
At first, Renee wasn’t sure she wanted to be baptized. Then one day the missionaries read a scripture about baptism from the Book of Mormon. The prophet Nephi said that baptism is like a gate to a path leading to Heavenly Father. He also described the blessings of receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost after baptism. (See 2 Ne. 31:17–18.)
Renee felt a warm, happy feeling in her heart. She knew she wanted to return to Heavenly Father. And she wanted the gift of the Holy Ghost. She thought the Holy Ghost would be a good friend and companion to help her throughout her life. She and her mother were soon baptized.

A few years ago, my dad’s appendix burst, which was a tender mercy.
Most people wouldn’t say that getting appendicitis and having emergency surgery is a miracle, but it was for my dad.
When the doctor removed my dad’s appendix, he found cancer in it.
Luckily, after some testing, doctors found the cancer hadn’t spread. With his appendix removed, he was cancer free.
When we had time to process this situation, my family felt grateful that my dad’s appendix had burst.
The cancer in his appendix was subtle, and without the emergency surgery, it’s likely it wouldn’t have been noticed until it was too late.
Some people may consider my dad’s story a lucky coincidence, but my family and I know it was a miracle from God.
We may not notice God’s involvement in our lives until we reflect on past experiences. In the moment, my family didn’t think appendicitis was a blessing. We didn’t realize the importance of my dad’s emergency surgery until after the doctor found cancer.

Our stake, the San Cristóbal Venezuela Stake, decided to organize a football tournament for the Aaronic Priesthood youth. This activity had more than one purpose, including building friendships and strengthening the various priesthood quorums.
The stake leaders said that only the young men of each ward or branch were allowed to participate and they were to encourage new members and less-active members to join them so they would have full teams for each age group. In our ward, the Táriba Ward, there were only two deacons, one teacher, and a few priests.
My son, José Francisco, whom we lovingly call “Junior,” was part of the deacons quorum, with his good friend Oscar Alejandro. It was obvious that there were not enough boys to participate in the football tournament. So they worked with the missionaries and ward leaders to find all of the less-active youth. They spent time each week seeking out these young men, encouraging them and gaining their trust. Because of the efforts of this pair of 12-year-old boys, they were able to get enough young men for a team. One of the miracles that resulted from their efforts was that our ward gained several more active youth!
During the week they would pick up their new friends and then practice on a community field. It was a lot of work, and they were always tired. They had little coaching or strategy, but the young men didn’t let that stop them. They were happy with what they were doing.
At last, the first day of the competition arrived. Our valiant team of deacons arrived at the stake center. They didn’t have much of a crowd to cheer them on, nor did they have a coach to help them or uniforms like most of the other teams. But they played with enthusiasm, unity, and love.
They lost the first game by a landslide. But they didn’t give up, and the entire stake began to encourage them, saying that the boys from the Táriba Ward were such good examples.
Junior was the goalkeeper. He defended the goal with such fervor that the balls he blocked left marks on his hands. That night at home, he told me that his hands really hurt and that he needed some gloves. We got out our savings so we could buy him a pair of gloves. But the gloves at the store were more than we could afford, so we had to buy some fabric gardening gloves. He took them with much gratitude.
I don’t know where his team got the motivation to continue. They were last in the rankings, but they kept playing.
Finally it was time for the elimination rounds. Due to the lack of deacons in the stake, this valiant group was able to play in the finals, but they played against a practiced team whose coach was a very good player. He had spent a lot of time working with his team. They were the top team; they had matching uniforms and exhibited the discipline that came from training. Their coach likely felt confident about winning the game because my son’s team was not very good.
My husband had just returned from a trip, so he decided to help the deacons. He encouraged them, gave them some pointers, and surprisingly they won. So they were able to face the other stake team. Our young men won again!
When the game ended, everyone applauded. The crowd could hardly believe that those young men were able to win first place in the deacon’s category and third place in the stake for the entire Aaronic Priesthood.
This experience taught us about principles and eternal truths that would serve us here in this life. The young men of the stake were examples of love, activation, perseverance, enthusiasm, and working together as a team. They demonstrated the true objective of the activity. They built bonds of friendship with others.

After dinner, Dad called everyone together for family home evening. “Tonight,” he said, “we’re going to learn about one of our early pioneers—Jesse Nathaniel Smith.” He opened a small red book and showed them a photo of a white-haired man with a big, bushy beard, a long nose, big ears, and thoughtful eyes.
“Who is he, Dad?” Jay asked.
“Jesse N. Smith was a young cousin of the Prophet Joseph Smith. His father, Silas, was a younger brother of Joseph Smith, Sr., the Prophet’s father.”
“Wow!” Jay exclaimed. “I didn’t know that the Prophet Joseph Smith had any cousins in the Church.”
Dad smiled. “The Smith family is a big, wonderful family, Jay. Jesse N. Smith has many descendants in the Church today, and we are some of them. He was an influential mission president in Scandinavia and an early settler in Utah and Arizona. But tonight I want to tell you something about Jesse when he was a boy.” Dad turned to Susan. “His birthday is very close to yours, Susan. He was born in New York State on December 2, 1834.”
“My birthday’s December third—we’re almost twins!”
Dad turned a few pages, and began telling about their ancestor. “Things were not easy or comfortable for Jesse and his family. He was only three years old when they had to leave Kirtland with the rest of the Saints and make the long journey to Missouri. His brother Silas was seven, and his brother John was five. They traveled for six months to reach their new home in Far West. Even before they got there, they were forced to flee from angry mobs on the trail. They had to live one winter in a crude log cabin, and they ate mostly boiled, dried corn because there was no mill to grind the corn into meal. Life was so hard that John died before the winter was over.”
Susan looked at Jay. What would it be like if Jay or Greg died? she wondered.
“Less than a year later,” Dad continued, “the family was in Illinois. There was a lot of illness, and Jesse’s father died in September.”
“Oh no!” Susan jumped up to snuggle beside her dad. “What did they do?”
“They moved to Nauvoo, and the Prophet Joseph and Hyrum helped for a while. When they were killed, Jesse and his family moved across the river to live near his Uncle John Smith in a settlement called Zarahemla. Uncle John helped them, but they had to earn a living for themselves.”
“You mean Jesse had to go to work when he was a little boy?” Susan asked.
“That’s right. When he was ten, he went to work for a farmer who wasn’t very nice to him. He had to live on a farm away from his mother and brother. Every morning he had to get up very early and go a quarter of a mile to get all the water for the day from a well. He worked the rest of the day in the fields. Then he had to bring home the cows. He said, ‘This was the most lonesome and tedious part of my service, as I was sometimes gone in the woods until after dark.’”
“When did he rest?” Susan asked.
“Only on Sundays, when he was allowed to visit his mother.” Dad looked down at the page. “Sometimes Jesse had special chores. He said, ‘On washing days, I carried water the whole day.’ What do you think it was like to carry water all day, a quarter of a mile each trip?”
“Pretty hard,” Jay said. “But I bet I could do it.”
“Not me,” Susan grumbled. “I’d just sit down and not go at all.”
“Well,” Dad said. “Maybe you’re strong enough for one trip. Let’s find out. Everybody come outside with me.”
“So,” Dad said when they were all inside and Mom was passing out cupcakes for a treat. “How was that?”
“It was awful!” Susan admitted. “And I think it was awful that Jesse had to do it every day. Why did he have to work so hard? It doesn’t seem fair.”
“Well, they needed money, Susan. But I think working was good for him, too. Hauling all that water made his arms grow strong,” Dad said. “And some things soon happened to him that made that a very good thing.” Dad opened the journal again. “He wrote, ‘During the summer of 1845, I took a job of hoeing corn, thus earning the first pair of boots I ever owned.’ Your arms have to be strong to hoe all day long. Then, not long after that, Jesse and his family went west with Uncle John Smith. He had two wagons, and Jesse’s mother had one of her own. Who do you think was assigned to drive one of those wagons?” Dad asked, looking at Susan.
“Jesse?”
“That’s right. Even though he was only twelve, Jesse drove a wagon with four big oxen all the way across the plains to the Salt Lake Valley. His Aunt Clarissa rode with him. His arms had to be pretty strong to control the oxen, to keep them pulling that wagon day after day over rivers, through mud, up rocky mountains, and down steep canyons. He even had to hold them steady when the buffalo came thundering by. I’m sure his muscles grew even more, driving the ox teams. And that was a good thing, too.”
“Why?” It was Jay’s turn to be surprised.
“His work wasn’t over just because he had arrived in the valley. He wrote, ‘I herded the cows the whole [first] winter through for Uncle John and … a few others. I was exceedingly hungry, [being] at an age when my appetite was very keen; but there was no help for it. We voluntarily put ourselves on rations; we had about half a pound of flour per day for each person, without any vegetables, and but little meat; sometimes no meat. For months my desire for food was not satisfied.’”
“I can’t imagine working all day when you’re so hungry,” Jay said.
“And herding wasn’t all he had to do, either.” Dad continued reading: “‘As the Spring approached, preparations were made for farming and gardening. I drove the team to break the land for [two neighbor men] and [for] my brother and myself a patch of ground. … We planted considerable corn, … also … beans and peas and some few other vegetables … and an acre of wheat.’ Then,” Dad said, looking up, “he had to tend all those crops—weeding, irrigating, and harvesting them. It was hard because he was inexperienced. He said, ‘Our wheat did poorly, not having sufficient water. As we were unused to irrigating, we did not apply the water properly. We had to pull the most of it, as it was too short to cut—’”

A few months ago I was able to work in an elementary school, helping to teach struggling first graders how to read and write better. One boy I worked with, Steven, acted quiet and uninterested every time we got the books out. I wasn’t sure how to help him. Nothing I tried worked. I just desperately wanted to let this boy know how important reading and writing were.
One day I sat there next to him, both of us silent as the rest of the class buzzed around us. Steven was slumped halfway around in his chair. As I surveyed his untied shoelaces and the dirt and streaks of grass stains on his clothing, a picture of myself at the same age sulking on the kitchen floor came to my mind. I realized that for Steven to trust me he needed to know that I cared about him and not just his reading and writing ability.
“Wow, you sure are dirty,” I commented to his back. “You must be a really good soccer player at recess.”
Steven looked at me sideways and said, “No, I got in a fight.”
I was quiet for a few moments before I asked, “Are you okay?”
And then, still without really looking at me, Steven started to tell me about his day. We spent the whole half hour talking. By the end of our time, I knew Steven would be more excited to see me in the future. And, in a few days, we were working on his reading skills.

A few years later, Elder Harbertson played softball for a commercial team. “And when we went into the state tournament and the national tournament,” he recounted, “games were scheduled on Sundays. I went to the manager and said, ‘I’m sorry, but I won’t play on Sunday.’ I thought I would be dismissed from the team, but I was allowed to play in the state tournament. I played every game but the one on Sunday, and we won the state tournament. Then, as we were preparing to go to the nationals, the coach came to me and said, ‘We let you play in the state tournament and miss the game on Sunday, but we can only take twelve players to the nationals, and we have to have you play on Sunday.’ I said, ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t play on Sunday.’ I thought, There goes my dream of playing in the national tournament. But the team had a meeting, and they decided to let me go, and I played every game but the one on Sunday! Heavenly Father always blesses you when you choose to do right!”

Last October my wife and I accompanied Elder and Sister Neil L. Andersen for the groundbreaking of a new temple in Córdoba, Argentina. As is customary, a press conference followed the ceremony. A journalist, not a member of our Church, commented that she had observed how well the men treated their wives. Then she unexpectedly asked, “Is that real or fiction?” I am sure that she saw and felt something different among our members. She might have perceived the desire of our members to follow Christ. Members all over the world have such a desire. At the same time, millions who are not members of the Church also have a desire to follow Him.
Recently my wife and I were impressed by the people we saw in Ghana and Nigeria. Most were not members of our Church. We were happy to see their desire to follow Christ expressed in many of their conversations in their houses, on their cars, on their walls, and on their billboards. We had never seen so many Christian churches next to one another.
As Latter-day Saints, ours is the duty to invite millions such as these to come and see what our Church can add to the good things that they already have. Any person from any continent, climate, or culture can know for himself or herself that the Prophet Joseph Smith saw the Father and the Son in a vision. He or she can know that heavenly messengers restored the priesthood and that the Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ. In the words of the Lord to Enoch, “Righteousness [has been sent] down out of heaven; and truth [has been sent] forth out of the earth, to [testify of the] Only Begotten [of the Father].”
The Savior has promised, “He that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.” Followers of Christ pattern their lives after the Savior to walk in the light. Two characteristics can help us recognize to what extent we follow Him. First, followers of Christ are loving people. Second, followers of Christ make and keep covenants.
The first characteristic, being loving, is probably one thing the journalist in Córdoba noticed among our Church members. We follow Christ because we love Him. When we follow the Redeemer out of love, we are following His own example. Through love the Savior was obedient to the will of the Father under any circumstance. Our Savior was obedient even when it meant great physical and emotional pain, even when it meant being whipped and mocked, even when it meant that His enemies would torture Him while His friends abandoned Him. The atoning sacrifice, which is unique to the mission of the Savior, is the greatest expression of love ever. “The chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.”
As Christ followed the Father under any circumstance, we should follow His Son. If we do so, it matters not what kind of persecution, suffering, grief, or “thorn in the flesh” we face. We are not alone. Christ will assist us. His tender mercies will make us mighty under any circumstance.
Following Christ may mean forsaking many dear things, as Ruth the Moabite did. As a new convert, out of love for God and Naomi, she left everything behind to live her religion.
It may also mean withstanding adversity and temptation. In his youth Joseph was sold into slavery. He was taken away from everything he loved. Later he was tempted to be unchaste. He resisted the temptation and said, “How then can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?” His love for God was more powerful than any adversity or temptation.
Today we have modern Ruths and Josephs all over the world. When Brother Jimmy Olvera from Guayaquil, Ecuador, received his mission call, his family was struggling greatly. The day he was leaving, he was told that if he walked out the door, he would lose his family. With a broken heart he walked out that door. While he was on his mission, his mother asked him to stay longer in the field because they were receiving so many blessings. Today Brother Olvera serves as a stake patriarch.
Truly loving Christ provides the required strength to follow Him. The Lord Himself showed this when He asked Peter three times, “Lovest thou me?” After Peter reaffirmed his love for Him out loud, the Lord told Peter about upcoming difficulties. Then the admonition came: “Follow me.” The Savior’s question to Peter can also be asked of us: “Lovest thou me?” followed by the call to action: “Follow me.”
Love is a powerful influence in our hearts in our effort to be obedient. Love for our Savior inspires us to keep His commandments. Love for a mother, father, or spouse can also inspire our obedience to gospel principles. The way we treat others reflects to what extent we follow our Savior in loving one another. We show our love for Him when we stop to assist others, when we are “perfectly honest and upright in all things,” and when we make and keep covenants.
The second characteristic that followers of Christ have is making and keeping covenants, as He did. Moroni pointed out that “the shedding of the blood of Christ … is in the covenant of the Father unto the remission of your sins, that ye become holy, without spot.”
The Prophet Joseph Smith taught that even before the organization of this earth, covenants were made in heaven. Ancient prophets and patriarchs made covenants.
The Savior Himself gave the example. He was baptized to fulfill all righteousness by one with the proper authority. Through His baptism, the Savior witnessed unto the Father that He would be obedient in keeping all the Father’s commandments. As in days of old, we also follow Christ and make covenants through priesthood ordinances.
Making covenants is something that millions who are not members of our Church can add to the very good things that they already have. Making covenants is an expression of love. It is a way of saying to Him, “Yes, I will follow Thee because I love Thee.”
Covenants include promises, “even of life eternal.” All things will work together for our good if we remember our covenants. They must be made and kept to fully receive the promises they provide. Love for the Savior and remembering our covenants will help us keep them. Partaking of the sacrament is one way to remember them. Another way is to attend the temple often. I remember a young married couple in South America who wanted to separate because they could not get along. A priesthood leader counseled them to attend the temple and pay specific attention to the words and promises of the covenants made there. They did so and their marriage was saved. The power of our covenants is greater than any challenge we face or we may face.
To those members who are not active in the gospel, please come back. Feel the blessing of remembering and renewing covenants through the sacrament and temple attendance. Doing so is an expression of love and shows a willingness to be a true follower of Christ. It will qualify you to receive all the promised blessings.
To those who are not members of our Church, I invite you to exercise faith, repent, and qualify to receive the covenant of baptism in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. By doing so, you will show your love to our Heavenly Father and your willingness to follow Christ.
I testify that we are happier when we follow the teachings of the gospel of Jesus Christ. As we strive to follow Him, the blessings of heaven will come unto us. I know His promises will be fulfilled as we make and keep covenants and become true followers of Christ. I testify of His great love for each one of us, and I do so in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.