Gospel Story Finder

Angela Vildor moved to the Bahamas from Haiti a few years ago with her family. With the move came many changes, including learning English—a real challenge since she had spent her entire life speaking Haitian Creole. One afternoon a friend of hers invited her to a free English class sponsored by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Angela readily accepted the invitation.

“I met the missionaries in English class,” she says. “They gave me a Book of Mormon, and later they talked to me about it. I told them that when I read the Book of Mormon, I felt very strong; it was a very different feeling. They explained that what I was feeling was the Spirit.”

Soon after Angela told the missionaries about her feelings, she received the missionary discussions and was baptized. A few weeks later, Angela’s younger sister, Annette, was also baptized. Together, the two of them help each other learn more about the gospel and share it with the rest of their family and friends.

When Hal was 13, his father took a significant position at the University of Utah. The younger Henry attended early-morning seminary and took some enjoyment in playing on his high school’s basketball team, but by his own admission never made any close personal friends.
While feeling sorry for himself one day, he received an impression that would change his life. He felt it was a warning from God: “Someday, when you know who you really are, you will be sorry you didn’t use your time better.” He responded to that prompting by reading the Book of Mormon several times as a teenager. He also felt guided by President David O. McKay’s book Gospel Ideals, which, among other things, taught him how to properly treat women, a devotion he would show all of his life to his beloved wife, Kathleen.
Since early childhood, Hal’s deepest dreams were to be married and form a family. He thought about his future children so often that he’d already given them the collective nickname “The Redheads,” imagining them with red hair like his mother’s.
This dream finally moved toward fruition during his service as a counselor in the Boston District presidency, a Church calling Hal had while he was pursuing his graduate work at Harvard University following his undergraduate studies at the University of Utah. As a doctoral student in the summer of 1960, Hal represented the district presidency at a single-adult devotional held at the Cathedral of the Pines in southwest New Hampshire, USA, a natural outdoor amphitheater of note in the region. At the event he saw a young woman in a red and white dress and was impressed by the pure goodness she radiated. He thought, “That’s the best person I’ve ever seen. If I could be with her for the rest of my life, I could be every good thing I ever wanted to be.”
The young woman was Kathleen Johnson from Palo Alto, California, USA, who hadn’t intended to be in New England that summer but, at the insistence of her friend, had attended summer school with her at Harvard. Following that outdoor devotional, Hal arranged to meet Kathy at church one Sunday and was happy to hear she enjoyed playing tennis. Hal had been playing tennis several times a week with a college friend and was a good natural athlete, so he assumed a game of tennis would be an ideal first date and a way for him to make a terrific impression. What Kathleen didn’t tell him was that she had been the captain of her high school tennis team! “She cleaned me out,” Hal still grumbles about the match. This was the first of his future wife’s remarkable examples of living humbly and then helping her husband to do so.
Following their marriage and Hal’s eventual appointment to the faculty of the business school at Stanford University, late one night in December 1970, just a few months before Hal was released as the bishop of the student ward in Palo Alto, Kathy asked a question seemingly out of the blue. As Hal climbed into bed after a demanding day, she leaned over and asked, “Are you sure you’re doing what you ought to be doing with your career?”
Her question caught him by surprise. Everything in their life seemed perfect. The future seemed bright and clear, even down to the Eyring dream home that Hal had recently outlined in his journal. It would include such niceties as “a room for projects, large enough and rough enough to work on and store a kayak,” along with “at least five electrical outlets by the kitchen table” and “a shed or bathhouse retreat for writing.”
“What do you mean?” Hal asked his wife.
“Couldn’t you do studies for Neal Maxwell?” she suggested, referring to the Church’s new Commissioner of Education. At this, Hal was truly dumbfounded. He had only met Neal A. Maxwell once, and he knew that Kathleen had never met him at all. He tried to describe to her why such a career shift would not be a good fit for him, yet she insisted he at least pray over the matter. This he did immediately, dropping to kneel by the bed and offering a short prayer. When no answer came, Hal felt the matter decided and soon went to sleep.
The following morning, however, Hal received two distinct spiritual impressions that would forever alter the course of his career and his life. He captured both in his journal. First, “Don’t use your human judgment to eliminate opportunities presented to you: pray about them all with an open mind.” And second, “Do the tasks you are assigned in the Church and your profession as well as you can; they are preparation.”
The first impression came as something of a rebuke that Hal would forever thereafter live by. After having previously rejected three different job offers without praying over them, into his mind came the words, “Don’t you ever make that mistake again. You don’t know which end is up in your career.”
With this spiritual direction fresh in his mind, Hal was prepared when less than three weeks later, Commissioner Maxwell called to schedule a meeting with him in Salt Lake City. Brother Maxwell got right to the point. “I’d like to ask you to be the president of Ricks College,” he said. Hal replied that he would have to pray about it. He did and the terse answer he received was, “It’s my school.” The rest, as they say, is history. His service in the Church since then has been as exemplary as it has been conspicuous, moving on to serve as Deputy Commissioner of Education and then Commissioner (twice), followed by calls to the Presiding Bishopric, the Quorum of the Seventy, the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, and as a counselor to three Presidents of the Church.
Photograph with President Hinckley from Deseret News
But in a very real sense to Hal, no calling in the Church was more important for him than another: “The pressures at every stage of life can tempt us to reject or neglect calls to serve the Savior,” President Eyring has taught. “Some of those calls may seem unimportant, but my life, and my family, was changed for the better by my accepting a call to teach a deacons quorum. I felt the love of those deacons for the Savior and His love for them.”2

My heart sank to the very bottom of my shoes. The words didn’t register at first, with my head pounding so hard. “What was that?” I stammered, all the while looking for an explanation.
“I said, did you cheat, Robbie?” The question came from one of my best friends, Darla. We’d grown up together and were now in our junior year of high school. Over the years we’d always talked about everything, but at this moment she was the last person in the world I wanted to talk to.
The day had started harmlessly enough. I got up, got dressed, went to school—all the usual things. Eventually it was time for French class to start. I’d forgotten it was a test day. I groaned inwardly as our teacher passed around the exams.
“Now class,” she said, “I have some things to do, but I expect you all to be finished when I get back.” With that, she left the classroom. Everyone in the class was silent as we struggled to pull knowledge from the dark recesses of our brains. It wasn’t working for me.
After some time, two friends sitting next to me glanced up from their papers and looked around. Josh and Justin, two guys I had always admired and wanted approval from, started comparing answers. They whispered back and forth, silently chuckling as they went through the questions.
Then it happened. Justin turned to me and asked, “What did you get for number six?” Almost without thinking, I started sharing my answers with them. An empty, guilty feeling lined my stomach, but I ignored it. I laughed along with them, pretending to be happy I had outsmarted the teacher and was going to get a good grade without studying.
After some time the teacher came back and collected the tests. She gave us some busy work and left the classroom again. Everyone started talking about the test they had just endured. Most of the class members weren’t very happy with how they had done, but Justin and Josh wore big smiles.
“I think we did just fine, didn’t we guys?” Josh said smugly. Justin laughed and nodded in agreement.
“What do you mean?” one of the other students asked.
“Oh, just that Justin, Rob, and I here pooled our resources. That test was a breeze with three doing it together!” The others didn’t say much but gave us dark looks and went back to their work. That is, all but one went back to it.
There I was, Darla in front of me, her question aimed right at my heart. What could I tell her? I had cheated on a lousy French exam just to please my friends. I could see the look on her face, as if she didn’t want to believe the possible answer. I respected Darla more than almost anyone. She wasn’t a member of the Church but was active in her church and had strong values. She knew I was a member of the Church and respected that. We agreed on a lot of issues and found strength in each other’s desire to do good. Usually.
“Yeah,” was all I could say, lamely.
“Oh, Robbie,” was all she said as she turned back to her work. I can’t describe how much the disappointment in her voice and on her face hurt me. I had compromised my standards just to fit in with a couple of guys and ended up disappointing someone I really admired. Guilt washed over me. I kept thinking I had hurt the image of the Church in her eyes. I apologized to her for what I’d done and talked to the teacher afterwards. She wasn’t pleased either, but we worked things out.
I’ll never forget that day. I now know it isn’t worth compromising your values just to please other people. Since then I’ve tried to be honest and am much happier with myself. Thankfully, I can say I haven’t repeated that mistake again. I’ve felt the difference in doing what’s popular and in doing what’s right, and I know what makes me happy.

As a freshman here at BYU–Hawaii in the early 90’s, I received a full tuition scholarship for one year. This scholarship was awarded to all seminary graduates from Laie with 100% attendance for all four years. Thanks to my goodly parents, they woke me up every day for early morning seminary. While studying, I worked part time in the P.E. Cage. My work schedule started at 5 AM Monday-Friday. After completing my work assignments, I sat patiently waiting for patrons to pick up issues or equipment. During those free moments, I read the Book of Mormon. I challenged myself to read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover.

Despite my perfect seminary attendance, I had not yet read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover. Plus, I knew that I should serve a mission. But how could I serve a mission if I didn’t know for myself if it was true? So I decided to put it to the test. As Alma taught: “an experiment upon my words, and exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if you can no more than desire to believe…” (Alma 32:27) As I read each morning all by myself in the P.E. Cage, the words spoke to me and touched my heart and soul. “for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to enlighten my understanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me.” By the time I finished Moroni chapter 10, I did not need to ask if it be true, because the Holy Ghost had already “manifested the truth of it unto” me. (Moroni 10:4)

I coined that spiritual experience my “Enter to Learn Go Forth to Serve” experience. It changed the trajectory of my life and literally, it motivated me to go forth to serve a full-time mission for the Church in Tokyo, Japan. My personal testimony strengthened from that experience and it motivated a lifetime of “Go Forth to Serve” opportunities.

When I was a young man I wondered why the Lord needed to have the Prophet Joseph Smith translate the Book of Mormon to begin the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I knew that God the Father and Jesus Christ had spoken with him. I knew that Peter, James, and John had restored the Melchizedek Priesthood, that prophets had brought the keys, and that Joseph had been taught by apostles and prophets from earlier dispensations. With all of that, I wondered what the place of the coming forth of the Book of Mormon in all of that was.
Then I began missionary work. One of my early companions told me the story of his conversion. I remember his words, which were something like this: “The missionaries had taught me. I had read the Book of Mormon. The missionaries challenged me to set a date for baptism, but I could not decide. Finally, I knew I had to make a choice. So, I knelt down and prayed to know if the Book of Mormon was true. I told God that I was desperate, that I knew this was the most important decision I had ever made, and that I needed His help. The Spirit testified to me that the Book of Mormon was true, that Joseph Smith was a prophet, that the Church was true, and so I was baptized.”

Gary watched his brother Geof giving directions to their two younger brothers. Geof was waving his hands excitedly and talking very fast. Gary could not see all Geof was saying, but he caught the enthusiasm and excitement of his brothers.
Dad had taken Mother to the hospital earlier that morning, and the boys could hardly wait for him to come home and tell them about their new baby sister. They were sure the baby would be a girl, that she would be soft and pink, and they would call her Tammy.
Gary was sure he would love her at first sight. Sometimes his stomach would get all tight inside just thinking about having a baby sister at home to laugh with and to love.
Gary watched closely as Geof stood directly in front of him and carefully repeated what he had been saying. “When Tammy comes to live with us,” he said, “we’ll have to keep our trucks and bicycles out of the way so she won’t get hurt, and we can’t throw balls in the house, and we can’t yell too loud when she’s sleeping. Isn’t that right?”
Gary nodded enthusiastically.
At an important time like this, Gary wished he could talk and hear like everyone else. Sometimes it was hard being deaf, but he tried not to show his frustration.
Gary was learning to read at the school for the deaf, and he could use his fingers when talking in class. But at home his family spoke carefully and directly to him so he could lip-read what they said. With their patient help, he was learning to sound out many words so they could understand him.
Geof usually took charge of the brothers whenever Dad and Mother were away even though Gary was older. And Gary was usually glad because he knew that Geof was a good leader.
Gary was certain that it would be different with Tammy. He wanted to help take special care of her. He wouldn’t mind doing anything at all to help her and make her happy.
Gary and his brothers gave Geof their full attention as they made plans for their new little sister.
It was almost evening before Dad came home. The boys were keyed to a high pitch after the long wait.
They crowded around Dad.
“What does she look like?” Kent asked.
“How much does she weigh?” Karl questioned.
“Does she have dark hair? How long before we can see her?” Geof wanted to know.
Gary looked at his father soberly, “Is she all right?”
Father bent down and gathered his four sons into his long arms and said huskily, “The baby is all right. It weighs almost ten pounds and has dark hair and beautiful dark eyes and looks like Mother. But the baby is a boy.”
“A boy,” Karl said in disbelief.
“But what about our sister? We already have boys,” said Geof.
Gary looked up into his father’s face and smiled. “But if he’s okay, that’s all that matters,” he said with rapidly moving fingers. “When can we see him?”
A few days later Mother came home with the new baby. Gary took just one long look at his red wrinkled face, little clenched fists, and thin kicking legs, and he loved him immediately. Gary let the baby’s fingers curl around his own big finger. He liked the tight way the baby held on.
Here is someone, Gary thought, who can use some special help from me.
The family decided to name the baby Tommy.
Each night while Mother prepared dinner, Gary sat in the big rocker crooning softly to Tommy. Gary felt sure the baby understood him, and he was happier than he had ever been before.
All day long Gary looked forward to this hour before dinner when he could hold Tommy and put into song all the things he felt and had never before been able to say.
One day in school Gary’s teacher said, “I hear something special has happened at your house. Would you like to tell us about it?”
Gary went to the front of the class and began to describe his new baby brother. His fingers couldn’t move fast enough to tell all the wonderful things he felt about Tommy.
That night when Gary went home, he sat down in the big rocker as he did each evening. As he held the baby, Gary tried to sing all the things he had told his classmates. But Tommy was not feeling well. He wriggled and squirmed and cried even though Gary tried to quiet and soothe him.
Finally Mother said, “Perhaps Tommy needs to lie on his stomach. I’ll put him back in his crib for a while.” She took the baby from Gary, and soon Tommy stopped crying.
Mother came back into the kitchen. Gary watched her for a few minutes, and then he quietly went into the bathroom and closed the door.
Even Tommy doesn’t like my singing, Gary thought. He must know I have no real words ever to give anyone. And suddenly all the hidden hurt of a lifetime was inside of him and Gary began to cry. Once the tears started, he couldn’t stop them.
For a long time Gary stayed inside the bathroom, but finally he washed his face, opened the door, and went out to have dinner with the family. Mother gave him a quick hug as he sat down at the table, and Dad gave Gary one of his special smiles.
Later that night when the dishes were done and everything was put away, Gary went to bed in the room he shared with Kent, but he couldn’t get to sleep. A few minutes later Mother came in carrying Tommy, who was all ready for bed and wrapped in a soft blanket.
Mother bent low over Gary’s bed so he could read her lips in the soft night light. “Gary, are you still awake? I know Tommy would love to have you hold him for a few moments and sing to him. Cuddle him close and sing again the song you were singing this afternoon.”
Gary put out his arms and Mother gently put Tommy into them. Gary looked down at his little brother and held him close. Then he began to sing with all the love he had in his heart.
And Tommy seemed to understand. He looked up at Gary and smiled.

Well, I suppose I might take just another minute to tell you about Dean Rymer. I was on a flight from Australia to New Zealand, and I noticed that my seat companion was a minister from the Anglican Church, the Church of England. I introduced myself and told him what I was doing in New Zealand, and he asked me, “How does it feel to be a member of one of the fastest-growing churches in the world? “ He had been hearing things.

I said, “It’s a wonderful feeling, and I’d like to tell you about it.”

“Well, we have some problems in our church with the youth,” he said. “What do you do about the youth in your Church? We hardly have any young people coming, and we’d like to do something to stimulate them.”

I spent the next half-hour telling him about young men coming to pass the sacrament as deacons, groomed appropriately and representing the Lord as they should, and about how they had to be worthy to act in the name of the Lord. I told him about the older brothers of these deacons, young men sitting at the priest’s table, and about how they came properly groomed and administered the sacrament for the congregation. He was impressed; he was taking notes during all of this.

Then he said, “You know, I have another problem. I can’t get around to all my congregation. And not only that, but they’re mostly women—very few men in my congregation.” I told him about the Melchizedek Priesthood, and about home teaching. I told him about this army of men going out, hopefully into each home every month. “Oh,” he said, “that would be great help! I wish I had something like that. I wish I had some home teachers.” Then I told him about visiting teaching and the Relief Society, and he was almost over-whelmed.

Then he went on to ask me about our buildings; he was concerned about some buildings that they were having to close because they were losing members of the congregation. And I told him that we had approximately six hundred buildings under construction, that we had another five hundred buildings on the drawing board for next year, and that there were another five or six hundred buildings for the year after that. Then I told him about the law of tithing, and told him that every one of these buildings would be dedicated on the day that it was finished and used; that we did not have one penny of debt—not one commercial loan on any piece of physical property in this Church—and he could not believe what he was hearing. And again he was taking notes and writing very rapidly.

Then we talked about tithing. That is how we do it: because we believe what Malachi said—“Will a man rob God?”—and we believe that the windows of heaven will be opened for those who do what the Lord has asked them to do (see Malachi 3:8–10). Then we talked about welfare, and again he could not believe it when I told him about fast offerings and about the way our people fast two meals and give the equivalent cash to the bishop on the fast and testimony Sunday, and still he was writing.

After two hours and twenty minutes of flying we finally landed at Auckland Airport. He was writing all the time, and his final comment to me was, “Elder Simpson, these have been two of the most fruitful hours of my life. We’re going to have a seminar of all the ministers of the Church of England in Auckland in just a few months’ time, and I’m hopeful that you will be able to come and tell them exactly what you have told me.” Well, unfortunately, I have been released in the meantime; but Elder Loren C. Dunn is waiting. I have made arrangements for him to meet Dean Rymer, and Dean Rymer is anxious to extend that invitation to Elder Dunn. And I can promise you that Elder Dunn will finish the job and Dean Rymer will never be the same again.

I should also tell you this: The Sunday following this conversation on the airplane, I heard from one of our good Church members converted from the Church of England that one of her good friends from the Anglican Church came over and said, “You can’t guess what happened in church today. I was at the cathedral and Dean Rymer spent the whole hour talking about the Mormon Church. He told us this and that, and then he concluded his comments by saying, ‘Now, brothers and sisters, I don’t intend to convert you all to the Mormon Church; all I’m doing here today is letting you know that if you live more like the Mormons you’re going to be better people.’” Now, that is a pretty good endorsement, and we accept that! I know that Dean Rymer is a good man and I know that the Lord works in mysterious ways his wonders to perform.

As my siblings and I started high school, my dad could see the busy schedules of our teenage lives begin to crowd out precious family time. So he required my sisters and me to be home between five and seven o’clock for dinner every night. At first this was hard, but as we honored his wishes, something beautiful happened.

Every evening we came home to each other from school, work, and activities. We learned how to prepare dinner. We ate and talked together every night and then read the scriptures together. I still remember the spirit I felt as my mother and father testified of true gospel principles. There was a spirit of love and acceptance there that allowed us to express ourselves and discuss difficult topics. And when our parents needed to teach us something, it came naturally during scripture discussions, with love and testimony. We argued less among each other and became best friends.

Although I was involved in many things during my high school years, this memory stands out most in my mind: my family time together around the dinner table. All the other rewarding experiences I had during those years were silver, and this was gold.

Those dinner hours we spent together had a huge impact on the way I dealt with challenges and how I felt about life and myself. I knew that no matter what happened outside our home, I had a family who cared about me.

Let me share another story of a Church member who tried hard to magnify his calling and was blessed with an amazing spiritual gift. Brother John Macfarlane was called to be a choir director in St. George, Utah, in the 1860s. One year, he decided the choir needed a new carol for their Christmas program. He had little experience at writing hymns, but he was not afraid to pray for help, for the gift to compose.

"One night it came, suddenly, in a dream. John was awake instantly. He shook his wife, Ann, into wakefulness, crying out: 'Ann, Ann, I have the words for a song, and I think I have the music too!'" (Lloyd Wayland Macfarlane, Yours Sincerely, John M. Macfarlane).

The song that John was given in his dream has become a beloved Christmas hymn played and sung all over the world. We know it as "Far, Far Away on Judea's Plains." The music and the lyrics were inspired of God, given in the form of a spiritual gift to a dedicated choir director.

“Hi, Gweg!” Greg could feel his face getting hot even before he looked up to see Melissa standing on the roadside by her bike.
“My name’s not Gweg,” he said crossly, focusing intently again on the basketball hoop he was aiming at.
“What is it, then?” Melissa waited expectantly, her eyes already dancing with laughter.
“You know what it is.”
“Yep. It’s Gweg; that’s what you always say.” She started to giggle.
“My name’s not Gweg,” Greg yelled. “It’s Gweg!”
Melissa burst into laughter and hopped back on her bike. “I was right, then. Bye, Gweggy!”
Greg scowled at her braids streaming out behind her as she pedaled away. It wasn’t fair! He tried and tried to say his Rs, using the exercises that his speech therapist gave him every week. But even though she praised him at the end of each session and told him that he was doing better, he still couldn’t say the words quite right. Worst of all, he couldn’t even say his own name!
“Well, at least we didn’t name you Roger or Roderick,” Dad had chuckled, tousling Greg’s hair. “Don’t worry, Son. Lots of kids have trouble with their Rs, and sometimes other letters too. You’ll get over it.”
But Greg did worry. The Primary president had asked him to tell the story of Joshua in two weeks. He loved to hear about how the children of Israel were led into the Promised Land, and he wanted to do a good job telling it. But what if everyone laughed at him?
The next Sunday at dinner, Greg was quiet as he pushed the food around his plate with his fork. He usually loved Mom’s mashed potatoes; the rich gravy he poured over the top looked like brown lava sliding down a snowy volcano. But gravy lava seemed stupid now, and his food stuck in his throat.
“Is something wrong, Greg?” Mom asked.
Greg nodded soundlessly.
“Is it your Primary talk?” said Dad.
He nodded again.
“Well, I have something to show you.” Dad disappeared into the living room and returned with his Bible. “You know, Greg,” he said, flipping through the pages, “when I was your age, I didn’t like to give talks either, but for a different reason. All those people made me nervous! My mouth got as dry as sandpaper, and I felt like I couldn’t say anything. Then I read about Moses. Here.” He handed the open Bible to Greg. “When you’ve finished your dinner, why don’t you read about how Moses felt when the Lord told him to speak to the people and to Pharaoh. It might help.”
Later, Greg read in Exodus how the Lord appeared to Moses and told him to tell the children of Israel His words. In Exodus 4:10 [Ex. 4:10], Greg read that Moses had said, “But I am slow of speech, and of a slow tongue.”
Greg kept reading, using the footnotes. In Exodus 6:30 [Ex. 6:30], he saw that Moses was still protesting to the Lord: “Behold, I am of stammering lips, and slow of speech; how shall Pharaoh hearken unto me?”
Greg was astonished. So Moses, the mighty prophet, couldn’t speak very well, either! But the Lord didn’t find another prophet to replace him. He knew that Moses, whom He had called to serve as the Israelite leader, was a righteous man, and He made a way for Moses to do what he had been commanded by sending Aaron to help him. Well, I have lots of people to help me—people like Dad and Mom. A warm, peaceful feeling crept over him. They can help me learn to say my Rs right someday, and I know that the Lord will help me give my talk!
All the next week, Greg practiced and practiced until he knew the whole story by heart. When Sunday finally arrived, he was a little nervous, but he felt ready. He stood at the microphone, took a deep breath, and gave his talk. He still couldn’t say his Rs quite right, and he thought that he heard a giggle from the back of the room. When he sat down, though, he felt good inside. He knew that he had told the story well.
Dad and Mom had come to hear him, and when Primary was over, they both gave him a big hug. “We’re very proud of you,” Mom said, beaming; Dad said, “Way to go, sport.”
Suddenly Greg felt someone cuff his arm playfully. He looked around and saw Melissa standing there. “Good job, Greg,” she said, grinning.
“Thanks,” he said. And he couldn’t help grinning too.

The night before our oldest son left for his mission, we put together “the family slide show”—the best and funniest pictures of our family for 20 years. At the end of the show, we knelt in prayer together. There were plenty of tears and hugs that night. No more curtain climbers or rug rats—just imperfect young men and young women, and their imperfect parents, who felt an honest love for each other. And those feelings have kept growing.

It wasn’t enough for Manila, Philippines, institute students to just learn the word—they wanted to go out and share it. So they put together a musical show, emphasizing the scriptures and education, that was designed to help parents and youth apply gospel principles in their lives.
The students gave up their summer free time to rehearse and perform, but said it was worth it to see the audience reaction—some were touched to tears. The group toured Metro Manila and the nearby provinces with their variety show. “All our efforts have been paid off by the wonderful feelings we’ve had,” said one participant.

I was baptized when I was 16 and living in New York City. At first I felt like I was spending a lot of time navigating between my newfound faith, with its covenant relationship with God, and my relationships with friends.

I was worried about not having friends at school I could connect with. But my friends were used to doing things that I came to realize were harmful to my spirit and were not in keeping with taking upon myself the name of Jesus Christ. I knew that Jesus Christ wanted me to make better choices.

What I didn’t know was whether the Savior understood how conflicted I was feeling. Each day got more difficult as I was invited to do things that I knew weren’t good. I sometimes justified them as harmless, but I knew I was compromising things I shouldn’t.

I needed to know that the Savior understood how lonely and guilty I felt when I would even consider lowering gospel standards so that I could feel a sense of belonging with my friends. I felt like I was drowning. I needed rescuing. I needed Jesus Christ.

I felt like I was drowning. I needed rescuing. I needed Jesus Christ.

My relationship with Jesus Christ deepened when I found out for myself why I needed Him. It was when I started moving from only knowing that I should live the gospel to understanding why I wanted to live the gospel and asking for help to do it. I simply got on my knees and poured out my heart to God, with hope that He cared about me and my problem, that the plan of salvation was designed to help me, that even my happiness was part of the plan.

I talked to Heavenly Father about how guilty I was feeling, how I didn’t know what to do to keep both my standards and my friends. I told Him I was feeling unhappy and could really use His help.

It was on my knees that I started to experience peace. This peaceful feeling helped me understand that the Savior did know how I was feeling and that He does care—quite a lot, actually.

When I got off my knees, the Spirit helped me discern some things and inspired me to do other things. First, I remembered that one of my friends was Muslim and was never asked to compromise her standards because we respected her faith and understood there were certain things she wouldn’t do. I felt inspired to share my new faith with my friends so that they too could understand more about me and why my new standards were important to me.

I started out small. I told one friend how I had been struggling. She was kind and respectful. She helped me as I talked with my other friends. Not everyone understood, but over time, I saw that they made plans that I could participate in that did not violate my promises to God.

I know that we could all use more strength to resist the constant influence of the world. Keeping covenants helps with that, and Jesus Christ is at the center of our covenants. This is what I found out for myself—why I need Jesus Christ.

Getting home to God is not something I can do by myself. And there are lots of daily small steps and everyday experiences that I—and all of us—will make on that journey home. But how blessed we are as covenant makers and covenant keepers that God “will never tire in His efforts to help us” till we get there.

The privilege of serving the Lord on a mission is felt and demonstrated in many ways. One missionary had struggled with family problems since he was a boy. While still young, he was expelled from his home and went to live with another family who introduced him to the Church. The gospel gave him direction in life where his natural parents had not. A few years later, after becoming one of the best players on a college football team, he decided to serve a mission. Before leaving on his mission, he gave copies of the Book of Mormon to his friends at school. This included his team coaches, fellow players, and teachers. He distributed more than 200 copies before entering the Missionary Training Center.
The missionaries who looked upon a mission only as a sacrifice were often honestly dedicated to the Lord’s service. However, I found they had not experienced personal revelation and inspiration. They were usually less informed about the Savior. But as they studied their scriptures and came to know Him better, their hearts seemed to soften and enlarge. They began to more deeply feel His love and know of the importance of missionary work as a continuation of this love extended to others. Many of those who began by telling of their sacrifices left the Missionary Training Center talking about privilege.

Finding a pamphlet about the Restoration on the ground on a street in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, led Zerge Weld Mariam to find and join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints 15 years ago. The brochure was printed in Amharic, the native language of Ethiopia, and had a phone number written on it. After reading the pamphlet and feeling a “good spirit,” she called the number. To the full-time missionary who answered, Zerge said, “I need to join this church.”
Her family followed her into Church membership. Ten years ago, Zerge was having a hard time in her life. Elder Edward Dube of the Seventy came to her home and gave her a blessing. After that, her life was blessed, she had food to eat, and her trials were lightened. She loved being able to raise her right hand and sustain Elder Dube, and other Church leaders, as she watched general conference, live, in her home, for the first time.

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

When 15-year-old Jenni tells about having a prayer answered, she starts with an apology. She is sorry to admit that she hadn’t been praying regularly for almost a year. Things in her life had not been going well—not at school, not with her friends, not even at church.
One night, Jenni explains, she wanted to watch a movie. She bent down to look at the movies on the lowest bookshelf when she caught sight of a photo of her uncle who had tragically passed away not too long before. Suddenly, the weight of everything she was worried about made her want to cry. “I just knew in that instant that I had to pray,” says Jenni. She knelt where she was and prayed.
Jenni describes receiving her answer: “As soon as I was done, I had the answers to my questions. I felt that everything was all right again. Everything is going to be OK. Everything with my uncle is OK. I realized that I love school and my friends. As soon as I finished praying, I knew that I had to go to church because it is for me. It really hit me, and I felt so comfortable and so warm. I know my Heavenly Father loves me and He will help me through things.”
For Jenni, this prayer was one she had been wanting to say but somehow couldn’t. Now, even thinking about it, she gets that same feeling of comfort over again and the same assurance that her answer was from the Lord.

Many anti-Mormon tracts have said that it certainly is no example to the Christian world that a man should be called a martyr for Christ if he used a gun in his last hour. They do not know either the background or the sequel. The background, in a word, is that the Prophet had promised those brethren in the name of the Lord that he would defend them even if it meant giving up his life. Had he been all alone in the Carthage Jail, the story might be different, but he was not. He was there with two members of the Twelve, John Taylor and Willard Richards—Willard Richards weighing over three hundred pounds, the largest target (and the only one who would not be injured)—and with his brother Hyrum. He did defend them as he had promised. In fact, we now know from the records that the first man up the stairs that day, anxious and eager, was met by a fist and rolled back down. That fist was Joseph Smith’s.

Inside the room they had nothing to defend themselves with except two pistols, plus two walking sticks which they used in an effort to divert the rifles. Some of the balls went off in the ceiling. When Jacob Hamblin and James W. Woods visited the room shortly after the martyrdom they counted the pockmarks of the balls that were shot through the door or doorway. There were thirty-six. According to Willard Richards, all that shooting occurred in less than two minutes. Both Hyrum and Joseph received five balls; John Taylor, four. It was a volley, an explosive volley.

The previous night, the Prophet had had some private conversations. We know that he had borne to the guards his testimony of the Book of Mormon and the Restoration, and later his last testimony to the brethren present. No doubt it was the equivalent of what David Osborne had heard him say in 1837: “The Book of Mormon is true, just what it purports to be, and for this testimony I expect to give an account in the day of judgment.” We know also that earlier he had pleaded three times with Hyrum for Hyrum to leave him and go back. Hyrum could only say, “Joseph, I can’t leave you.” Hyrum, it turned out, was the first to be killed.

How did the Prophet make the decision to leave that room, or to try to leave it, through the window? Films depict Joseph falling off balance out through a large glass plate window. There is no such window. This was a jail. Even the upstairs had walls as thick as two feet. The window was small, and Joseph was a large man, and for him to get through it required considerable effort. Willard Richards used the strangest adverb in his whole account when he said that after emptying the pistol (which misfired a couple of times) the Prophet calmly turned from the door, dropped the pistol, and went to the window. Calmly? It is difficult to understand how anybody could have heard the words in such a fracas, but one man, outside the jail, claimed he heard the Prophet cry, “Oh Lord, what shall I do?” How fast can a man’s mind work in such circumstances? What was going through his? It was certain death at the door, that was clear. It was certain death at the window, because balls were coming through it, and John Taylor had just been blasted under the bed, writhing in pain with four wounds. Yet Joseph decided to get out—hoping, Willard Richards believed, that it might save the lives of his brethren.

Whether that was his intent or not, he was hit from behind—twice, maybe three times—but managed anyway to pull himself up and out, and then fell from the window. “He’s leaped the window!” someone shouted, and those on the landing rushed downstairs and outside. “Shoot him, — — — him, shoot him!” said Levi Williams, and they shot several times more.

I remember another occasion when I was in Australia on a mission. I went up to visit the Jenolan Caves—very wonderful, spectacular caves. And as we walked through them, the guide said, “If some of you will get out and stand on that rock over there and sing a song, it will demonstrate the capacity of this cave.”
Well, the Spirit said to me, “Go over there and sing ‘O, My Father.’ I hesitated, and the crowd walked on. I lost the opportunity. I never felt good about that. The only thing that ever made me feel the Lord had forgiven me was when I heard President McKay say, “I was inspired one time to do a certain thing when I was in the mission field, and I didn’t do it.” He said, “I have always been sorry since.” He said, “Never fail to respond to the whisperings of the Spirit. Live so you can receive it, and then have the courage to do as it instructs.”

One day they felt impressed to go to the farthest part of the town, out along the edges of the sugarcane fields. As they walked down the street, they saw two men sitting on their porch, and they stopped to talk with them. This was the first time they met Julian and his son, Victor. Julian immediately invited them in to have some yuca with butter and listened to the message they had to share. He was interested and asked them to come back and teach him more.
The following day the elders were in the town center doing street contacting when they met Carmen, Julian’s partner. As they started talking with her, they learned that Julian had told her all about what he had learned the day before. The elders returned that afternoon and taught Julian and Carmen how families were part of God’s plan. They learned that the couple had been together for over 30 years, with children and grandchildren, but had never gotten married. The elders asked what they thought about getting married. At first, Carmen was eager, and Julian was hesitant. Two weeks later, when they were married, he was emotional about finally being married to the woman of his dreams.