Gospel Story Finder

Joseph was most sad and lonely when he was separated from his family for any length of time. How distressed he must have been to so frequently have to hide or live in seclusion for fear mobocrats would take his life. On one occasion, his friends were transferring him to another hiding place when Joseph insisted that they drive past his home. Upon seeing that there were no enemies nearby, Joseph rushed into the house, knelt beside the beds of his children, and uttered a brief prayer for them. He kissed each child and his beloved Emma, then rushed out the door on his way to a new hiding place (E. Cecil McGavin, The Family of Joseph Smith, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1963, page 138).

I couldn’t believe my eyes. There he was, standing at the pulpit. I had never seen Brother John at church before, let alone heard him bear his testimony. A month later he came to church and bore his testimony again.
It all started one Sunday morning in priesthood executive committee meeting. I was serving as the Young Men president. We had just read from the Church Handbook of Instructions, and the bishop was sitting quietly, pondering. Then he looked up and said, “I want our Aaronic Priesthood brethren to begin collecting fast offerings from less-active members.” He asked us to involve the teachers and priests.
I was surprised. In Cape Town, South Africa, most members live far from each other. It takes about 35 minutes to drive from one side of our ward to the other. The young men had never collected fast offerings before because they couldn’t walk to members’ homes—the distance was too great, and we were concerned about their safety.
As a committee we came up with a plan as we discussed how we might overcome these obstacles. The elders quorum agreed to assign brethren to take the young men to several homes on the Saturday before each fast Sunday. We split the ward into areas and assigned each companionship to visit a few active families and a few less-active families. We realized that our plan would be a good opportunity for the brethren to get to know the youth and for the youth to receive counsel from the elders.
When we presented the plan to the young men, they were eager to try it. We reminded them to wear Sunday clothes and that this was part of their sacred responsibility to watch over the ward.
I was assigned to take my younger brother, Andrew. The following Saturday we visited everyone on our list, but most people weren’t home. The last member we visited was Brother John, whom we didn’t know well.
Andrew got out of the car, knocked on the door, and waited. He was just about to return to the car when the door opened. Andrew shook Brother John’s hand and said, “Hello, my name is Andrew, and I’m from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Tomorrow is fast Sunday, and the bishop has asked us to visit members to receive any fast-offering donations they wish to make.”
He handed Brother John an envelope. Brother John was surprised, but he walked inside with the envelope. After a few minutes he emerged from the house with a smile. He politely thanked Andrew and handed the envelope to him. I got out of the car, and we all chatted for a while. As we were leaving, Brother John waved goodbye and said, “Make sure you come next month.” Andrew was excited all the way back to the chapel, where we turned in our envelopes to a member of the bishopric.
The next month we made sure to visit Brother John. Again, he was friendly. After a few months he began attending church on fast Sunday. Our Saturday visits reminded him of his Sunday meetings, and he would come the next day.
We were excited when Brother John became active in the Church. We felt a special bond with him. Words cannot express the joy that came to us because one soul had returned to the fold. Within a few months, he was attending regularly, and soon he was called to serve in the elders quorum presidency.
For us, the highlight of this experience came when Brother John was asked to speak in sacrament meeting about tithes and offerings. At the end of his talk he spoke about Andrew’s first visit.
With moistened eyes he said: “Andrew, you will never know the impact you had on my life that Saturday morning when you came to my door with that blue envelope. You may have thought it was a waste of time, but blessings came into my life because you provided me with an opportunity to pay my fast offering. Your service is one reason I am here today.”

When my wife and I visited Salt Lake City recently, we needed to find an ATM on the street. While we were looking around, we heard a voice from a parked car behind us say, “Are you looking for something? Can I help you?” The man, who introduced himself as Mike, added with a smile that it feels probably weird for a stranger to yell at us from a car, but in Utah we might not be surprised by that. He asked where we are from and when he learned that we are from Prague, his eyes lit up. He had recently spoken to a friend of his who was having trouble getting information about her ancestors from the Czech Republic, so he immediately wondered if there was anything we could do to help. We replied that we would be happy to send him contacts of brothers and sisters who were doing genealogy in our country. He thanked us, we said goodbye and he got into his car. As we were leaving, we noticed that Mike had gotten out of the car again and was coming back to us. This time, however, the happy smile was replaced by emotion.
With tears in his eyes, he told us how grateful he was for our brief encounter and that he felt urged to get out of the car. He had been trying unsuccessfully to help his friend with genealogy in Bohemia for a long time, and because of her advanced age, she was losing hope of finding her ancestors in Bohemia. Mike too was about to give up, but the previous day when he visited the temple he felt that the solution would come - and it came through us. And so he wanted to share with us the joy and gratitude he felt at another testimony of how wonderfully God‘s guidance works in our lives.
Our encounter with Mike is an example of how the Spirit works. Mike made an effort to listen to the promptings of the Holy Spirit and through his willingness to help complete strangers, he subsequently received not only help for his friend, but we all received another testimony of how God, through the Spirit, gives us answers and brings solutions. Yes, it was a small thing, but it is from such small and tiny things that the great mosaic of spiritual knowledge in our lives is made.

The young women in the Salt Lake Eagle Gate Stake’s 18th North Ward have a unique way of doing work for the dead. Many of them have done the conventional things lots of teenagers do: finding names, doing baptisms at the nearby Salt Lake Temple, and keeping records of their own lives to pass on to future generations. But this activity has been a little different.
The Salt Lake City Cemetery is within walking distance of the girls’ homes, and they have spent many hours there, working to revive the memory of a woman who seems to have been nearly forgotten. The headstone at the grave was never very large, and after more than a hundred years of cold winter storms and summer heat waves, it was crumbling, the name completely worn off.
The girls took some time to learn about the woman buried there. Her name was Sarah Melissa Granger Kimball. She was a Relief Society president for 41 years in a ward near the girls’ homes and worked tirelessly as a wife, mother, and educator.
The girls decided that a woman who had contributed so much to the lives of women who were the early settlers of Utah deserved a little more recognition than the tired old headstone afforded her.
So they got to work. First, they listed the work that needed to be done and divided it into individual assignments. Crissy Renda was the group’s researcher. Rebecca Priggemeyer documented the group’s progress on film. The other girls helped in various aspects of selecting a new monument to mark the grave, and they each participated in keeping a journal about their feelings and insights during the project.
“I used to think of Relief Society as something for people old or boring,” says Elizabeth Clark. “But learning about Sarah, I realized that she was energetic and really dedicated to making women’s lives better. The way I feel about Relief Society has really changed.”
It isn’t every day the Relief Society general presidency, the general board, and a representative of the Young Women presidency show up to a Young Women activity. But this was no ordinary activity.
When the time came to place the headstone, the Young Women wanted to do something special. They had spent countless hours researching Sarah’s life, and they wanted to pay tribute to Sarah for what they had learned from her.
“I am so grateful for everything that Sarah has done for the women of the Church,” Crissy says. “By researching her life, I have come to feel a closeness to her.”
Many of Sarah’s accomplishments are listed on the back of the monument the Young Women erected. At age 15, Sarah was invited to be educated with the School of the Prophets. She founded the Ladies Society of Nauvoo. She helped build the first Relief Society hall and Relief Society granary. She served as the first president of the Utah Women’s Suffrage Association, where she was a strong voice in the campaign to give women the right to vote. She also served in the general Relief Society presidency for 12 years.
As these young women did this unique work for the dead, they discovered that their work was a fulfillment of prophecy. Sarah was promised by Joseph Smith that because of her devotion she would be remembered from generation to generation.* As the young women uncovered stories about Sarah, they learned of her dedication to the Church. They believe the stories of her dedication will shape their lives and keep the memory of Sarah alive.

Maybe I have lived a pampered life, but I am just not used to being told that I am headed for hell. Actually, it only happened once, but that was enough to shake me up a bit and spur some thought that has not left my mind even now.
It happened when I left school at Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah, for a summer and went to Washington, D.C., to work in a government office. Another office employee was an exceptionally bright and articulate young man who not only worked full-time, but was also completing his studies in law school. He was not a member of the Church, but he had been surrounded by members for several years. He probably knew the technical points of the doctrine even better than I, and his knowledge of the Bible was superb. Had our conversations ever degenerated to the level of argument, his nimble lawyer’s mind and tongue would have left my inexperienced self stunned and breathless. To accomplish this, I think, was actually his desire, for he took great delight in asking questions designed to confuse and baffle me, and his attacks on the Church were well planned and skillfully executed. His intentions became clear when, after one long discussion, he commented, “I didn’t even succeed in making you cry, did I?”
To be honest, he did make me cry once, or at least I cried in his presence. But that was not at all because I was frustrated or beaten. That never seemed to be a problem, for the harder he attacked, the more I felt the Spirit behind me, reassuring me of the validity of my testimony and filling me with a calmness that erased any desire to fight back.
The tears came after one session in which he explained his primary objection to the Church. He felt that men are saved by grace. The Savior atoned for our sins, he believed, and all that is required of us is to believe in the Lord and accept him as our Savior. My friend said that he had a personal relationship with Christ; thus, nothing else was required of him to be saved. Latter-day Saints, on the other hand, he claimed bitterly, have no appreciation for Christ and what he did. Their belief in requirements other than faith, such as baptism and keeping the commandments, demeans the Savior’s atonement by implying that it is insufficient to save men. Mormons’ beliefs, he maintained, are nearly blasphemous. He could think of many adjectives to describe them, but Christian was definitely not on the list. And that, he told me, was why I was going to hell.
As I listened to this condemnation, many possible responses ran through my mind. I could say that it was Christ who instituted the ordinance of baptism and was baptized himself. I could say that he himself was one who most consistently taught the keeping of the commandments. I could say that it was one of his own disciples who said that “faith without works is dead.” But I said none of these things. Instead, when my friend paused long enough to catch a breath, I simply looked at him and said, “The Savior is more important than anything else in my life.” And then I bore my testimony of Jesus Christ. I told him of my love for the Savior and of my knowledge of his love for me. I told him how the Savior’s atonement was the only thing that gave purpose to my life. I told him that Christ’s gospel was the one anchor I had to cling to when everything else seemed determined to beat me down. I told him that my whole life was centered around trying to live the Lord’s gospel and that I did have a personal testimony of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. I am sure that I did not speak eloquently or impressively, but that is when the tears came.
When I had finished speaking, a surprising thing happened—my skillfully verbal friend was actually silent for several moments. When he spoke, his voice decreased in volume from its typical forte nearly to mezzo piano. “You are the first Mormon,” he said, “who has actually borne witness to me of Jesus Christ.”
We are members of the Church of Jesus Christ. It is his church. At our baptisms we covenanted “to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places, … even until death” (Mosiah 18:9). Then why is it that I could have a friend who had lived and worked and socialized among Latter-day Saints for several years and yet had never heard borne a testimony of Jesus Christ? My friend’s case may be unique, and I certainly hope that it is. But my experience with him has made me more aware of our sacred obligation to stand boldly and unashamedly as witnesses for our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ.

I had been a committed member of another church, but then I started studying its teachings about purgatory. This idea teaches that the soul, after physical death, is admitted to a place similar to prison, where it must be purified before going to paradise.
As I thought about suffering souls in purgatory, I reflected on my own spiritual future and my relationship with Jesus Christ. I began praying, “What must I do to escape purgatory? I want to go to paradise.”
The first thing that came to my mind was to live the Ten Commandments. I felt that if I did, the Lord’s grace would allow me to avoid purgatory. I committed to keep the commandments and began an intense period of fasting, praying, studying the scriptures, and meditating.
During this time, I felt prompted to ask an unusual question of a doctor at the clinic where I worked as chief accountant.
“Dr. Thibaut,” I said, “is the Lord Jesus Christ in your church?”
He stated that he belonged to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. From that point on, the Spirit guided our discussion. I asked him about the differences between his church and mine. He told me about the Book of Mormon. As we continued our conversation, joy filled my heart. I felt that I was receiving answers to my prayers.
Two days later the missionaries gave me a Book of Mormon, which I read and studied with them. I found it wonderful to learn new things from the scriptures. I started obeying the Word of Wisdom.
When I realized I had lost interest in my church, where I had been so involved, I wondered what was happening. I prayed and asked God about this new path. When I did, I felt more convinced of the truth I had found. I decided to join the Church, even though I knew I would face persecution.
Persecution did come, but the Lord strengthened me. I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the answer to my sincere prayer: “I want to go to paradise.” I know I can go there after I die if I remain faithful to the commandments of God.

When Marcus Martins and his wife, Mirian, received their calling to the Brazil São Paulo North Mission, the Laie, Hawaii, USA, residents were counseled by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles that there would have to be sacrifice, but he told them not to sacrifice too much.
The Martins went home and prayed to know how they could afford to accept this opportunity. They sold everything. “The blessing—we sold everything in one day,” Sister Martins said. “It was a miracle for us.”

His invitation stuck with me, and ever since then, I have been seeking to know for myself. I have been trying to know—really know—that President Nelson is God’s prophet here on the earth.
And let me tell you, it has been quite the journey.
Study and prayer have played a big role in this process. For example, I decided to read all of President Nelson’s general conference talks since he became a General Authority (there are a lot of them). I also studied all the devotional addresses he has given to young adults, university students, and other audiences. This helped me know more about President Nelson and what is important to him.
I also searched the scriptures for guidance. One verse that stuck out was Matthew 7:16, where Christ gives us the ultimate way to discern whether someone is His prophet: “Ye shall know them by their fruits.”
When I read this, I realized that the best way to know if President Nelson is a prophet is to follow his teachings and then watch for the fruits. I decided to study each general conference talk President Nelson has given since becoming the prophet and identify at least one thing in each talk that he has asked us to do. Here are just a few examples:
October 2020: “As you study your scriptures during the next six months, I encourage you to make a list of all that the Lord has promised He will do for covenant Israel. … Ponder these promises. Talk about them with your family and friends. Then live and watch for these promises to be fulfilled in your own life.” 1
April 2020: “Let us fast, pray, and unite our faith once again. Let us prayerfully plead for relief from this global pandemic.” 2
October 2019: “I entreat you to study prayerfully all the truths you can find about priesthood power. … As your understanding increases and as you exercise faith in the Lord and His priesthood power, your ability to draw upon this spiritual treasure that the Lord has made available will increase.” 3
April 2019: “Identify what stops you from repenting. And then, change! Repent!” 4
October 2018: “I promise you that if we will do our best to restore the correct name of the Lord’s Church, He whose Church this is will pour down His power and blessings upon the heads of the Latter-day Saints, the likes of which we have never seen.” 5
April 2018: “I plead with you to increase your spiritual capacity to receive revelation.” 6
As I reviewed these invitations from President Nelson, I realized that I didn’t take all of them seriously when I first heard them. In some cases, I had even forgotten the invitation altogether. I resolved to do better and set specific goals for myself to follow President Nelson’s counsel.
As a result, I have experienced many fruits. I feel an extra measure of priesthood power; I feel closer to my family; and I feel closer to my Savior, Jesus Christ. I am definitely not perfect and still have a long way to go in following all of President Nelson’s counsel, but my efforts thus far have only made my life better.
In order to understand the answers I’ve received, it has been useful for me to study teachings about personal revelation from Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He likens the first pattern of revelation to a light switch, which allows light to flood a room immediately. Similarly, revelation can come suddenly, in one moment. And the second pattern of revelation he likens to a sunrise, in which the light comes more gradually and steadily. 7
For me, as I’ve been studying President Nelson and his teachings, I have noticed the sun rising gradually.
As I’ve studied, as I’ve prayed, and as I’ve done what President Nelson has asked me to do, my faith has grown “line upon line, precept upon precept” (see 2 Nephi 28:30). I may not have experienced a light-switch moment of revelation, but as a result of my praying and studying, I can truly say that I have faith that President Nelson is the Lord’s prophet here on the earth.
Finding answers to our questions will take work on our part, but I know that all of us can receive a personal witness of President Nelson’s divine calling and answers to any other questions we might have about the gospel.
Throughout this experience, I have learned and gained so much faith. And I am forever grateful that the Lord has blessed us with modern prophets on the earth. I know that if we hearken unto their words, great blessings are in store for both us and our families.

“All the Latter-day Saints in New Jersey at that time comprised only one district,” Bishop Eyring related. “And New Jersey had a very large number of people. There were very few branches, and the Church had not yet built a single building there.

“Before World War II our branch met in a hotel. My memories of Sunday School classes are of rented hotel rooms, where we sat on the bed. During the war, from the time I was eight until I was twelve or thirteen, church was held in our home because gas was rationed. Mother was the pianist and the chorister. Father was the branch president. The dining room table was both the speakers’ rostrum and the sacrament table. Usually about ten to twelve people would attend. To me, the Church couldn’t have been more lovely. The relationships I felt at church in my home are what I want to have again with Heavenly Father.”

Nine-year-old Camille has lots of friends. “The thing I really like about my friends is that they are all different,” she says. “They come from different places, and they have different ways of doing things.” Camille loves to learn good things from her friends, and she likes to share things with them. The best thing she’s ever shared with a friend is the gospel. After sharing the first article of faith with her friend Yailin, Camille invited her friend’s family to meet the missionaries. Camille also taught Yailin how to pray. Now Yailin and her mother are members of the Church.

It was the most exciting thing to happen that fall or any fall. “I just have to go, Mama,” Kate insisted. But Mama said no.
“Please, Mama. I’ve wanted to be a magician all my life, well, anyway, ever since I read that magic book Papa brought me.”
“I know, Kate,” Mama said. “I’m truly sorry and I wish it were possible, but Papa has to go into town to see the lawyer about the pastureland, and I have an appointment with the doctor. That leaves only you to stay with Sarah.”
Mama put her hand gently on her daughter’s head. “You know she can’t go outside until she’s better. You heard what the doctor said about keeping her from chilling.”
I heard him all right, Kate thought. It’s just that I hoped I could find a way to see the magic show.
Sarah coughed upstairs in the loft where she lay on a straw bed covered with warm quilts and a comforter. “Mama,” she called.
Mama said, “You go, will you please, Kate, and see what she wants? Papa’s waiting for me in the wagon.”
Kate went slowly up the ladder to the loft. She looked out the window and saw the wagon pulling away, raising a cloud of dust behind it. She felt her eyes sting when she thought of the magic show and all the excitement in town.
She could just see the bright red wagon with its bells and silver trim pulled by prancing white horses. There would probably be a silver awning over the driver, who would be the magician himself. He would be wearing a tall hat with gold tassels, very tight pants, and black shiny boots. And his long, expressive hands would be able to fool everyone who came to watch. Everyone except maybe Kate. She knew from reading her book how some of the tricks were done.
“What is it?” she asked Sarah impatiently.
“I …” Sarah began. Then suddenly she turned her face to the wall, but not before Kate saw the quick tears come into her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Kate apologized. She sat on the bed and took Sarah’s hot hands into hers. “I didn’t mean to be cross. Now what can I get for you? A piece of cloud? A chunk of the barn roof?”
“Kate,” Sarah said, trying to match her sister’s smile, “all I want is a drink of water.”
“I guess I can manage that,” Kate said. She went down the ladder and out to the well. As she brought the sloshing bucket up, Kate thought she heard someone behind her. She turned and was startled to see an elderly man standing there.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” the stranger said. He had a long gray beard and wore a huge floppy hat that let long wisps of hair fly out behind. “I just wondered if you could spare some water for me and my horse over there.”
Kate turned to look where he was pointing. A tired horse and an old wagon stood at the edge of the clearing.
“He’s come up lame,” the man said.
“Here,” said Kate, “you can get a drink from this bucket and your horse can drink from the trough. Then we’ll take him into the barn where I can look at his hoof. I’m pretty good with horses.”
The old man unhitched the old horse and let it drink before leading it to a stall. Kate brought some medicine and bandages. Gently she talked to the horse while applying some ointment. Then she expertly wrapped the leg with white strips of cotton cloth. “He’ll be all right now,” she announced, “but you better let him rest a little while.”
“You’ve done a good job,” he said. “Never saw a horse doctor do better. I’ll just settle down here for a bit and keep him company.”
Kate left the old man in the barn and hurried into the house with the bucket. She explained the delay to Sarah and told her all about the man and the horse. Then she went down to fix dinner. While she was boiling potatoes, she imagined the silken scarves that the magician would draw out of his sleeves, the top hat with the rabbit suddenly appearing under it, the doves that would fly out of his coat and swoop around the tent.
She took a tray up to Sarah and then went to the barn and invited the old man up to the house for something to eat.
“I’d be grateful,” he said. “And look how much better my horse is.”
Kate led the way to the house. Later, when the old man had finished his meal, he patted the front of his vest and said, “That was a fine meal. I would like to pay you for it and also for treating my horse.”
“Oh, I don’t want pay,” Kate told him. “Mama says that we should do whatever we can to help people, and it will come back to us in some way. So don’t you worry about it.”
“There is something I can do if you’d like. I’m on my way to the next town to give a magic show. I’d never have made it without your help.”
“You mean you’re a—”
“I’m a magician, yes. How would you like to ride into town with me and see a free show?”
Kate thought for just one wonderful moment about riding into town high up on the wagon seat with the magician, waving and smiling at the crowd. But then she explained to him about Sarah.
“Ah, then,” he said, “I’ll just put on a show for you right here!”
He folded down the sides of the wagon and opened up the ends to display a stage full of interesting and exciting things—flags, bells, horns, metal tables with “invisible” tops, silk scarves, hats, balls, and balloons.
“Wait until I get back before you start,” Kate said, running to the house. She climbed the ladder and pulled and tugged Sarah’s bed over to the window. “Look out,” she said, “and watch the magic show. The man with the lame horse I told you about is the magician who was on his way to town!”
After she was sure Sarah was comfortable, Kate hurried back outside and onto the porch steps where she sat hugging her knees.
The magician had changed. He no longer looked like a tired old man. He was dressed in a red velvet jacket, a white top hat, and very tight breeches that tucked into shiny black boots. His hands were thin and dexterous, and he used them in ways that even Kate could not follow. He made things appear and disappear and fly and walk and multiply and divide and waver and float until her head was spinning.
And then, too soon, the show was over. The magician bowed, folded up the sides of his wagon, and went into the barn to change. When he came out leading his horse, the magician looked just the same as he did when Kate first saw him. “My horse is hardly limping now,” he said. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You’ve more than thanked me,” Kate answered. “I’ll remember your wonderful magic show all my life. I’m going to be a magician some day too.”
“If you really want to be one, you will, young lady,” the magician said encouragingly. And then, handing her a carved wooden box with a tiny gold clasp on the lid, he said, “Here, this will be your first magic prop.”
Inside was layer upon layer of beautiful silk scarves. They were in shades of palest pink to fiery red to deep purple.
“From me and my horse,” he said. “Take them and learn to use them. I know you can do it.”
“Oh, I will,” Kate promised. “And thank you ever so much.”
As the magician drove off down the road toward town, Kate thought of the excited people who would watch the show. Some were probably already sitting in the tent waiting for the famous magician. But she and Sarah had seen his show already!
Her feet hardly touching the rungs, Kate flew up the ladder to show the box of scarves to Sarah.

The only obstacle still in our way was the cost of chartering a bus. To meet it, we needed to sell fifty-eight fares—and with only three weeks to go, we had sold only forty-four fares. Unless we sold the remaining fares, the individual cost of each ticket would be higher, and some people wouldn’t be able to go.
But Brother Ávila’s faith didn’t waver. He decided that if we couldn’t fill the bus with branch members, we would invite the rest of Mendoza Stake. So he and Brother Alejandro Suriano visited each of the wards and branches in the stake, leaving a small poster and inviting their members to join us.
What happened next proved to us that signs do follow those who believe. Interested people quickly came forward, and the unsold seats were soon gone. Some of these newcomers did not even live in the stake boundaries. Brother and Sister Freire were from the nearby Godoy Cruz Argentina Stake, and the five members of the Badami family were from Santiago del Estero province—more than 1,000 kilometers away.
As arrangements were finalized, there were three families who had prepared for the trip but could not pay the full cost. Thankfully, the money we had donated at our early meetings settled the balance. Now everything was in order.

In second grade, when Lyle was playing at his friend’s house, he was introduced to an Atari computer and computer games. “When I told my dad how neat it was and that we should get games like that for our computer, he told me, jokingly, ‘People make those games. Why don’t you make your own?’”

Lyle remembers, even at age seven, being impressed. “It hadn’t occurred to me. Grandpa had given us an old computer, and there were these college programming books with it. I pulled all those out and started looking through them and started typing in program listings. I was amazed. The computer was doing what I told it to do.”

At that young age, Lyle started teaching himself to program. Shortly after, Lyle wrote a program for a game called Maze Craze. “It has a stick man running through a maze. The stick man painted everywhere he had been. You couldn’t get back because it was poison paint, and the walls would shock you if you touched them. If you stayed in one place too long, you died. It was way too hard. I couldn’t play it.”

Little by little Lyle was finding ways to teach himself the things he needed to learn. He struggled to glean information from books that were way above his level. His dad would bring books home for him. And he would try to imitate things he saw others had done. “I didn’t know you have to go through college and work for years and years. I think being naive helped me because I was looking at it as if these men were playing around too.”

His mother and dad, Lisa and Chuck, couldn’t help a great deal. They freely admit to being computer illiterate. Plus taking care of Lyle and his two sisters and four brothers occupied all their time.

Lisa says, “When Lyle would try to explain something he was working on, all I could say was, ‘That’s nice, dear.’” But, over the years, she helped Lyle overcome obstacles like finding ways to enter the regional science fair when his school didn’t hold a local fair.

Lyle still wanted a robot. “My parents wouldn’t buy me one. They wouldn’t buy one of those toys. I would have all these ideas, and Dad would say, ‘Write the plans down first.’” And he found ways for Lyle to earn money while they were building their house. “I dug fence post holes, hodded brick, planted trees, did stuff like that. Dad said, ‘I’ve got to hire somebody; I might as well hire you.’”

Then, while on a river running trip with his Scout troop, Lyle walked into a convenience store late at night and saw a magazine on the rack that had the headline “Build Your Own Robot.” “I bought it and read it all the way through while everyone slept. There were things I didn’t understand at all, but that was okay. That article was my main source of information.” Looking back, Lyle comments, “Pitiful, wasn’t it?”

Lyle started building robots. At first, nothing seemed to work right because, as he later found out, he didn’t know enough. Then he needed to learn how to build things carefully. Finally, he built a robot that worked. His goal was now to make it to the international science fair. But he lost. He took third in the state competition.

“I was extremely disappointed. I stood back and said, ‘Why, what happened? There’s a reason I only took third. There is a reason that this other project beat mine.’ I looked at it for a while. I decided I could keep better records. I could have a better paper. There should be no doubt in the judges’ minds that I built this. I needed to know everything about it. I’ve got to have a better presentation.” By the time Lyle finished analyzing why he lost, he was ready to go to work again.

Lyle’s next robot took him to the international science fair. Again, he was blown away by the competition. But that was okay. Here were people like him. They didn’t sit and waste time. They would get ideas and say, Let’s do it. He came to see what it would take to win the next year.

The next year, Iris was born. Lyle said, “I thought of a lot of things, but other people had tried them and they didn’t work. I was in over my head. But I’m always in over my head. I found out that there is another way to have a robot ‘see’ other than using big, huge, complex computers. It was to simplify things. All the robot needs to recognize is one object—the floor. Anything that’s not the floor must be an obstacle.”

This time, Lyle knew what he needed to do to succeed. He kept meticulous records. He perfected his presentation. And he made sure Iris was working at her best. He knew his information backward and forward.

While at the international competition in Louisville, Kentucky, disaster struck. Iris’s eye—the digital camera—was damaged in shipping. An hour before his presentation, Lyle had the camera apart, working on it. “As soon as something goes wrong, especially at the science fair, there is no time for sitting back and wondering. You have to do something and do it now. No sense getting angry. It’s a waste of time. When the eye broke, I started diagnosing it. How am I going to fix it? How am I going to change my display? That’s one thing my dad teaches. You can’t be a victim. It’s up to you to make sure things are going right for you. Is your teacher a jerk? It doesn’t matter. It’s up to you to get a grade. You can’t leave it up to somebody else or put the blame on somebody else.”

Lyle goes on, “In my high school, there is no science fair. So I found a teacher to sign the papers. There is no mentor. But there are books. You are never stuck. There’s always something you can try as long as you’re willing to work hard.”

This time Lyle and Iris took some honors. He won the prestigious U.S. Army Gold Medal for Science and Engineering. And he took second prize in the fair’s engineering division.

All those times when Lyle didn’t win, he was disappointed for a while. Then he started figuring out what he needed to do to improve. “When I’d lose, I’d say, ‘Now I know how bad I did,’” explained Lyle. “Now I know what I’ve got to do. What am I going to do different?”

So robots must be the most important things in Lyle’s life? Not even close. “Family for me is the biggest, most important thing in my life. It wasn’t always like that. But it’s my family, specifically my parents and extended family, that keep me centered.”

Lyle says he is not the kind of person who accepts things on faith very easily. “It took me a while to realize that the Spirit of the Lord is a substantial, real thing, not just a belief.”

When Lyle’s younger brother Skyler was being ordained a deacon, Lyle was gathered with his father, uncles, and cousins in a circle to help with the ordination. “I thought, What could be better than to spend eternity with these people? I would do anything for anybody in this circle. The Spirit was very strong. That’s when I started thinking, It’s real, it’s substantial, it’s God’s power, and it’s been here all along. The thing I see happening in the family, the spirit that can be there, is the most important thing to me. I’d drop robots right now if the choice was between them and my family. I’m playing with little toys that pale in comparison to that.”

Now Lyle can build robots. He has reached one of the goals he has had all his life. Of course, he always wants to build another one that’s bigger and better than the last. But robots are not number one. His goals have changed, have expanded, to take in eternal things. He hasn’t got it all figured out yet, but all those years of being in a little over his head have taught him a few things: keep trying, keep working hard, keep praying, and keep learning. The answers are out there. And the most important ones come through music, through the feelings of the heart, and through a still, small voice.

There are worlds to conquer, but Lyle has found that the only one that really matters is the one that starts at home and leads to eternity.

“Are you the one who has been calling my daughter each week?” was the question.
The answer, from Keri Peterson of the Bountiful 29th Ward, Bountiful Utah Central Stake, was simple and direct, “Yes, I’m a captain of ten, and your daughter is on my team.”
“Thank you,” was the response from a grateful father. “Thank you very much.”
The youth of this Bountiful ward were involved in a project called Moroni’s Promise. It came in response to a challenge from Elder M. Russell Ballard given to the youth of the Bountiful 29th Ward to adopt a meaningful and significant project for the year. This challenge was brought before the bishop’s youth committee for discussion. The youth leaders decided that reading the Book of Mormon would surely be a meaningful and significant project.
One Sunday evening, all of the youth and their parents were invited to a meeting to launch Moroni’s Promise. It was the young, valiant captains of ten who gave the vision, reviewed the promise (see Moro. 10:3–5), spoke of agency and obedience, explained the program, and called for volunteers to join one of their teams.
One young captain of ten, Michelle Gardner, referred to the promise made by President Gordon B. Hinkley to all the members of the Church who read the Book of Mormon. He promised those who read daily that “there will come into your lives and into your homes an added measure of the Spirit of the Lord, a strengthened resolution to walk in obedience to his commandments, and a stronger testimony of the living reality of the Son of God” (Ensign, Nov. 1979, p. 9).
Appealing to the youth for whom she now felt a keen sense of responsibility, she added her own personal testimony. “I know when I read each day, especially when I study and don’t just skim over what I’m reading, I do feel a greater desire to live the commandments and to have the Spirit of the Lord in my life.”
Individualized packets were provided which included the quote from Moroni printed on parchment ready for framing, a system for recording progress, recommended target dates, helpful study methods, a promise of celebration stations, and a letter to be sent to a trusted friend or relative requesting support and continuous encouragement during the coming months as they read the Book of Mormon. An application form was also provided requesting the parent’s signature as well as the signature of a member of the bishopric.
Each participant was invited to add his or her own signature as an indication of willingness to be diligent in endeavoring to reach the goal of having read the entire Book of Mormon within the set time limit. This could be accomplished by reading approximately 16 pages per week. A captain of ten also signed the application indicating a willingness to be in touch each week to determine progress and provide encouragement to each member of his or her team.
Individual progress was not a public matter. However, increased interest was awakened when the aggregate “scores” of the teams were recorded on an attractive chart that was periodically displayed in the chapel foyer with pictures of various activities.
As eager participants finished the last verse of Alma 63, “And thus ended the account of Alma,” they would rush, regardless of the hour, to Sister Bonnie Guthrie, who helped with the records, assisted in making calls for captains as needed, and dispensed T-shirts to each one finishing the book of Alma. The T-shirts with “STOMP” (for “Students Trying Out Moroni’s Promise”) printed in bold letters across the front provided the incentive that urged many through the pages of Alma.
A celebration station was an event scheduled at regular intervals along the way to give strong incentives and provide continuous encouragement to the captains, who in turn, inspired their team members as they made their weekly contacts. The captains were to then give an accounting to the specialist in a brief weekly meeting following sacrament meeting. Many, many extra calls at various times were required to accomplish this necessary follow-up.
As the group completed Alma, a celebration station was scheduled. The snow had been falling all night, and it was unseasonably cold, but nothing would daunt the plans for the scheduled tree planting celebration. A flowering cherry tree had been selected. The hole was dug, and all ward members were invited to gather at the church.
Robert Davis stood before the group holding a scroll containing all the names of those who at that time had finished reading Alma. He rolled the scroll, put it in a plastic-coated container, sealed it, and then respectfully placed it in the hole at the base of the tree and explained, “You’re probably wondering why we are planting a tree. If you will recall in Alma the planting of a seed which became a tree has meaning because of the analogy to a growing testimony.” He then read Alma 32:27–41, “But if ye will nourish the word, yea, nourish the tree as it beginneth to grow, by your faith with great diligence, and with patience, looking forward to the fruit thereof, it shall take root; and behold it shall be a tree springing up unto everlasting life.”
On Mother’s Day following sacrament meeting, the entire ward was invited to gather around the flagpole for yet another celebration station. Richard Newman and Mike Bettilyon, both captains of ten, unfolded the beautifully designed flag with the large dark blue letters “Moroni’s Promise” centered in a white open field.
There were other names on that flag also. Those who had finished the Book of Helaman had added their signatures to the flag as an official Mother’s Day record. Bishop Bradford reminded everyone of the stripling warriors who did not fear death for they had been taught by their mothers that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them (see Alma 56:47). The captains attached the flag and pulled the ropes raising it to the very top of the long silver pole. Hearts were opened and feelings were tender as expressed by a younger member of the group, who whispering to a friend close by, said, “My name is on that flag,” and his friend responded reverently, “So is mine.”
By now the flowering cherry tree planted earlier was bursting into bloom nearby as a reminder of growing testimonies.
What difference has all this effort made? There have been 120 readers, 38 adults and 82 youth, participating in Moroni’s Promise.
Thirteen-year-old Wid Covey, standing before an audience, volunteered his testimony, “I’m thankful for this Moroni’s Promise program because it helps me understand the scriptures. When I sit down with my dad to read the Book of Mormon he helps me understand about it also. I’m thankful for Michelle Gardner. She calls me every week, and it helps me a lot and she encourages me.”
Sister Margaret Kirkham reported, “Our whole family looks forward to Richard Newman, our captain of ten, coming to encourage us. This project has been a great influence to our entire family.”
Bishop Bradford reflected on the past eight months. “It has made a great difference. There are few activities that could have unified our youth as well as this. I can’t say that all our youth now have a strong personal testimony of the Book of Mormon, but it’s a super beginning. With the help of our inspired specialist, a great number of young people will be better missionaries in every aspect of their lives, and all of them are better prepared to withstand the evils of the world.”

The April morning sun colored each detail of the spacious, modern, cream-colored building. The building was surrounded by green grass, and it looked like it might be a school. We walked through the door carrying carpet-cleaning catalogs under our arms.
Erika, my fiancée, was helping me make sales calls; we were trying to find new clients for the company I represented. The heels of our shoes, worn down from walking, clicked on the red-brick floor. As we continued down the hall we both realized that this building was a church. We proceeded cautiously because we did not know what customs and rules might apply here.
I wondered if this church might have red carpets like the ones I had sometimes seen used for weddings. But everything in this building was simple, yet elegant.
A group of friendly children and young people greeted us, and Erika asked them who we should see.
“Robert Vázquez,” replied a small boy. “I’ll get him for you.”
I glanced at Erika and quietly told her that if they tried to convert us, we would say we had another appointment and escape to her house.
I was completely satisfied with the religion of my parents. Although I was not completely devout, neither was I a black sheep. I was one of those irregular little lambs who attended church according to the season. But through sermons, Bible study, and moral lessons, I had become convinced of the existence of a loving Heavenly Father; of His Son, Jesus Christ, who atoned for our sins; and of the Holy Ghost. I had been taught about commandments and ordinances. I also knew of our undeniable imperfection as mortal beings.
I considered myself against money offerings, idol worship, and every other superstition or precept not founded on divine love and justice. I had been taught to pray and worship God without the intervention of saints. I believed in love, humility, service, the dangers of judging others, and the balm of forgiveness. I knew many members of my church who were virtuous, righteous, and exemplary. It seemed just short of impossible to consider another religion.
Holding Erika’s hand, I arrived at a room that seemed to be a classroom. There I met Mr. Vázquez.
“What shall I call you? Father? Reverend? Pastor?” I asked.
“Just call me Brother,” he replied. He invited us to go with him to services on the following day, and I was surprised to find myself accepting his invitation.
The next day Erika and I went to a Sunday School class. We were introduced to names like Nephi, Moroni, and Helaman. I felt as if I were in a foreign land without an interpreter. Nevertheless, both Erika and I felt there was something familiar about the ideas we were hearing. They sounded similar to those in the Bible. And so I dared to raise my hand, and I stood and affirmed that Jesus Christ was our greatest example of humility because He always subjected Himself to the will of the Father. Brother Jorge Montoya, our teacher, agreed with what I said. That surprised me. What kind of church was this where even a heretic, which is what I thought I must be to members of the Church, could speak and have the teacher agree?
So we continued attending. I received a Book of Mormon and read it in a single week. I gained a testimony, took the missionary discussions, and was baptized and confirmed on 3 May 1996.
The next day I felt as if I were walking around with a 100-watt lightbulb over my head. I was so happy I went out of my way to help strangers.
The following month Erika and I were married. And on 29 September I had the privilege of baptizing her. A year later we were sealed in the México City México Temple.
Best of all, I never felt that I had to leave the road I had been traveling in my former religion. My former knowledge was embraced and perfected by the true Church of Jesus Christ. My conversion was like passing from the light of a cloudy day into the greater light of a sunny day—like rowing a boat and someone starts the motor.
I realize there are many righteous, good, and holy people in other religions. Although they do not have the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost, they are illuminated by the Light of Christ. Still I wonder how we can help these good people see that the exceedingly bright light of Jesus Christ makes the lanterns, streetlights, and candles of other beliefs inadequate. There is no greater truth than pure truth, and pure truth encompasses and perfects the true beliefs of all good people throughout the world.
I know now that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the only church that contains the fulness of truth. And I know that Jesus Christ has opened His arms and the doors of His house to all who wish to follow Him.
I did not sell any carpet-cleaning services that morning in April. In fact I have never sold a single square meter of carpet cleaning to any member of the Church. Nevertheless, I am sure that in that single day I gained more—a thousand times more—than anyone could have imagined.

One of my ancestors, Isaac Bartlett Nash, joined the Church in Wales and crossed the Atlantic and the plains before joining the Saints in Salt Lake City. After his arrival he heard one of the presiding elders of the Church denounce the use of tobacco in these words: “There are Elders in this assembly who now have tobacco in their mouths, though even a hog would not chew the vile weed.” Isaac, with a chew of tobacco in his mouth, quietly slipped it out, dropped it to the ground, and said to the tobacco, “Now stay there until I come for you.” He never did.3

When he was 24 years old, he prayed one night and felt prompted to read the Bible. He opened it randomly to Isaiah 56:1.
Wilford: “For my salvation is near to come, and my righteousness to be revealed.” I wonder if that means I will soon learn of the true gospel.
Within two years of this inspiration, Wilford had moved to New York, learned about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and been baptized. The Lord had answered his prayers!

In 2009, I was 13 years old, on my way home from school, I saw my father with two white men and one black man dressed neatly in white shirts and dark trousers. I really had the chills then because I knew our prayers had been answered. I said to myself “Whaaaaat? Dad had finally gotten a job and the owners had come to our home to interact with him, this is amazing!”
I knew their discussions were certainly about a job, so I quickly dropped my school bag inside the room, picked my chair and joined them without invitation. I couldn’t wait to hear the good news. No sooner did I do this than I realized that the conversation was about the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and the story of the Prophet Joseph Smith at the age 14. It wasn’t what I was expecting, nevertheless, the Restoration and Joseph Smith’s experience was so overwhelming! It brought much joy to my heart. The missionaries continued their visit to our home until my father’s first visit to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
On his second visit to the church, my father invited me to join. I really loved to spend time with my father, because he’s addicted to telling me stories whenever we find ourselves walking together. I suspended my Sunday service with the Pentecostal church to be with my father. I can clearly remember the hymn that was sung at the sacrament meeting that very day, “I Know That My Redeemer Lives”. The reverence observed by every member, even the little kids made it a truly a unique experience. Words cannot explain my first visit to the church. The teachings we had that very day and afterwards with the missionaries made me feel that I was not lost but was at the right place. A few weeks after that initial meeting with the missionaries, my father was baptized, and I was baptized a month later.

One of my most memorable missionary experiences took place in a cold, damp basement apartment of a nonmember in Edmonton, Canada. My companion and I were trying to help a man who had smoked many cigarettes every day all his life to live the Word of Wisdom, and he had called us to his humble residence one night to admit defeat. He said, “I have made every effort humanly possible, and I just can’t quit smoking. I know the gospel is true and I want to be baptized, but I’ll never be able to overcome this habit.”

Our reply to this defeated man was, “Don’t give up. You can quit smoking because there is superhuman power that can give you the strength and courage you need.”

We asked him to read these comforting and reassuring words from Paul: “There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.” (1 Cor. 10:13.)

Then we knelt with him and asked the Lord to give him the courage and the determination necessary to place his life in order so that he and his family could be baptized. What a testimony-building experience it was for a nineteen-year-old boy to witness the changes in this man’s life as the Spirit of the Lord magnified his strength, helping him resist temptation and live God’s commandments!

While serving my mission in Scotland, I felt overwhelmed nearly all the time. I took the teaching of “exact obedience” to a whole new level and believed that I needed to be 110 percent perfect in my missionary efforts every single day. I thought if I didn’t reach these (unrealistically) high expectations, I would be a failure.
However, I noticed that my companions, other missionaries, and many members all seemed so much happier than I was. I didn’t understand what I was missing! Why were they happy and self-compassionate, and why was I miserable?
At one point, I was praying for forgiveness so often that I lost my focus on Christ in my missionary work entirely. My thoughts were constantly telling me I wasn’t worthy and I wasn’t loved.
One day when I was particularly desperate for help, I came across a devotional given by Elder Dale G. Renlund of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He spoke about feeling God’s love and how a dysfunction in our “spiritual receptors” can make it hard to feel that perfect love.
He said: “What do you do if you do not feel the love of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ? I know with certainty that the problem is not with Their love. The problem is with your receptors for Their love. If you have dysfunction of your receptors for God’s love, you can lose your way and succumb to dangers such as hopelessness, helplessness, and loneliness.”
His words struck something in my heart.
If Heavenly Father loved me as much as Elder Renlund taught, I didn’t think He would want me to feel anxious and ashamed all the time. So I talked to my mission president, and we both agreed I needed to find some help.
With help from a therapist, we figured out that I wasn’t just struggling with perfectionism but also with scrupulosity, a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) that causes one to obsess over the fear of behaving immorally or against one’s religious beliefs.
I wasn’t feeling the joy of the gospel or the love of God, because I was giving myself impossible expectations. Mortality is about being imperfect and then learning to come unto Christ, who will perfect and redeem us.
When I finished my mission, I also received help and guidance from my loving bishop. He helped me understand these truths:
Repentance is a joy and a gift.
Living the gospel shouldn’t be bringing us misery.
Living the gospel is beautiful, joyful, and wonderful.
Following Jesus Christ helps us steadily learn and improve, giving us hope and purpose in our lives.
Understanding these truths has helped me understand God’s love and mercy better and find joy in the gospel.
I used to think life would be easier if I didn’t live the gospel. I was constantly feeling anxious and disappointed when I didn’t measure up to my expectations for myself. But now I know that we live the gospel because we are all imperfect and need the Savior’s help to become better.
As Elder Patrick Kearon of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles beautifully testified:
“If you are prone to worry that you will never measure up, or that the loving reach of Christ’s infinite Atonement mercifully covers everyone else but not you, then you misunderstand. Infinite means infinite. Infinite covers you and those you love.
“Are there things we need to do, commandments to keep, aspects of our natures to change? Yes. But with His grace, those are within our reach, not beyond our grasp. Our Father’s beautiful plan is designed to bring you home, not to keep you out.”
I still struggle with scrupulosity, but I’m striving to heal and to realize what the gift of the Savior’s Atonement means for my life. I know He offers me grace and can magnify all my efforts.
Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are not merciless. They love us perfectly. And if we ever lose sight of that truth and get lost in feelings of shame or inadequacy, we can refocus on the truth that They are here to lift us and support us on our journey home, not to make that journey impossible.
I hope you know how much They love you.