Gospel Story Finder

Not everyone agreed with him about the valley. Despite its streams and grassy fields, the new settlement was drier and more desolate than any place the Saints had ever gathered. From the moment he arrived, Sam Brannan had pleaded with Brigham to continue on to the green fields and fertile soil of the California coast.16
“I am going to stop right here,” Brigham had told Sam. “I am going to build a city here. I am going to build a temple here.” He knew the Lord wanted the Saints to settle in the Salt Lake Valley, far from other western U.S. settlements, where he was sure other emigrants would soon take up residence. Brigham appointed Sam to serve as president over the Church in California, however, and sent him back to San Francisco Bay with a letter for the Saints.17
“If you choose to tarry where you are, you are at liberty to do so,” Brigham noted in his letter. Yet he invited them to join the Saints in the mountains. “We wish to make this a stronghold, a rallying point, a more immediate gathering place than any other,” he told them. California, on the other hand, was to be a way station for Saints headed to the valley.18

Prophets help my testimony to grow. I love to read about the prophets and learn about their lives and how they were committed to following Jesus Christ. One story I love is about Joseph F. Smith (1838–1918). He was returning to Salt Lake City with several missionaries when a mob approached them. They shot their guns and cursed and yelled. The leader jumped off his horse and shouted, “We will kill anyone who is a Mormon!” All the other missionaries ran into the woods, but Joseph F. Smith stood strong. The man held a gun and asked, “Are you a Mormon?” Joseph F. Smith stood up even straighter and said, “Yes, siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through!” The man was surprised. Putting the gun away, he shook Joseph’s hand, and said, “Well, you are the pleasantest man I ever met! I’m glad to see a man that stands up for his convictions.” Then he rode off and didn’t bother them again.1

Last summer I climbed a mountain. A group of friends and I started at 1:00 a.m. at the base, with the goal of reaching the summit to watch the sunrise. The first four hours were miserable. We walked in the dark, plodding onward, one foot in front of the other. It was too dark to see the top of the mountain outline, our goal, so I kept my head down, using my headlamp to light the way.

As I climbed the mountain last summer, I experienced a gradual change. As the sun came up, my mood lifted. I could see more clearly; I felt more purpose as my goal came into view. When the sunlight finally fell directly on me, I felt like a changed person. The warmth reinvigorated me, and I found myself happy, talkative, joyful, and full of energy.

In a similar manner, dwelling on questions in the dark can sap our gospel energy. During the first half of the hike, I felt hopeless and exhausted. It seemed like I would never reach my goal. When I was walking in the light, I felt energized and optimistic, even though I still had a long way to walk. Choosing to search for answers while coming closer to Jesus Christ and moving into His light can fill us with His Spirit and help us remain hopeful as we move toward further understanding.

The brightest part of the flame of the pine logs had mellowed into glowing coals as Rob stared into the fire. The heat was strong enough to scorch his face and shins, yet the mountain air chilled his back and shoulders. His dad was sitting on a large rock on the other side of the fire, but neither had spoken for some time. Rob was lost in memories of many other times like this and wondering when the next opportunity would come, if ever.
Every year for six years, Rob and his dad had spent at least one week in the summer on a camping and fishing trip. Last year they had boated to the far end of Yellowstone Lake and camped with the bears. It would have been great to go there again, but Rob wanted to return to the first spot his dad had taken him when he was 12 years old.
As they parked the car and began their hike up the trail, the early morning sky was just beginning to show signs of light. The packs were heavy because of a few extras which would make the camp a little more comfortable. Still, they were experienced enough to know what they could and couldn’t do without. The ten-and-a-half mile hike along a cold rushing mountain stream brought them finally to a small lake nestled in a valley cradled at the edge of the timberline of the upper curvature of the mountain.
The natural beauty was breathtaking and the fishing was superb, but as the hypnotic effect of the glowing coals relaxed strained and tired muscles, Rob meditated on the real reason he wanted to come to this spot. At about this same time of night at a similar fire in the same fire pit six years before, he had asked his father, “Dad, in the celestial kingdom will we be able to go fishing together?”
In just a few words of profound wisdom, his father had responded, “If it is still important to you, then I’m sure it will be possible.”
Over those six years, Rob had recognized some changes in himself. Although these times with his father continued to be important and he was always ready to go when someone said “fishing,” he had learned that fishing was for relaxation and not really a key desire of his heart. In institute classes during his first year of college, a strengthened testimony of the gospel began burning within him and he knew that as soon as possible after his 19th birthday he needed to be leaving on a mission. The words were clear in his mind and seemed to ring out within his soul: “For how knoweth a man the master whom he has not served, and who … is far from the thoughts and intents of his heart?” (Mosiah 5:13). Nevertheless there were some fears, down deep inside of him, about his ability to do the work.
Time has a way of rearranging priorities. Rob was very aware of that, and sensing the end of an era, he had wanted to come back to this place.
His dad spoke, breaking the silence of the night. “The evening fishing was really something, wasn’t it, son?”
“Yeah,” responded Rob instantly. “I never believed that I would be catching two fish at a time. But when I tied the second gray hackle yellow on the line, I had to keep my hands inside the float to keep the fish from getting it before the knot was finished. It was like being able to walk on water and get right out there where the fish were biting.”
With a slight chuckle, his dad commented, “Now you sound like the Apostle Peter. You must have had a lot of faith that those fish were going to give you the thrill of a lifetime.”
Rob didn’t speak for some time and the still of the night began to inch its way back around the edges of the glow of the campfire which silhouetted the forms of the father and son.
“Dad?” Rob’s voice was full of question.
“Yes?”
“Tell me about Peter. How did he walk on water?”
There was a moment of silence before his dad began. “The scriptures say Jesus had sent his disciples ahead of him by ship and he had gone up on a mountain to pray. Apparently the winds were contrary and the water was in high waves. The ship wasn’t making much progress. Sometime between three and six o’clock in the morning, Jesus came to them, walking on the sea. Logically they were terrified until Jesus said, ‘Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid.’
“Then Peter cried out, ‘Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water.’ And Jesus simply replied, ‘Come.’
“Rob, this is an important point. When God commands, anything is possible. Remember when Nephi was building the ship and he needed to rebuke his brothers for ridiculing him? He said that if God commanded him to do all things, he could do them. If God commanded him to turn water to earth, he could do it. Miracles are accomplished at the command of the Lord or through the direction of the Holy Ghost. The Savior had said to Peter, ‘Come.’ At that command, Peter stepped out of the ship and began to walk on the surface of the water as if it were dry ground. But, in fact, it was a storm-tossed sea. Perhaps Peter, who had spent much of his life upon the sea, said to himself, This can’t be, and immediately he began to sink.
“The Savior stretched forth his hand, caught him and then said, ‘O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?’ (See Matt. 14:22–33.)
“In the School of the Prophets in the early days of the Church in Kirtland, Ohio, it was taught that where doubt is, faith has no power. The moment Peter doubted the possibility of what was happening to him, his faith lost its power to support him on the water. The scriptures don’t say that he had lost his faith in the Lord; so perhaps the doubt was in his own ability.
“Today you were supported in the water by an inner tube full of air and a support system that permitted you to sit there comfortably while you fished. If you had taken a knife and stabbed it into the inner tube, how long would you have stayed afloat?”
“Huh? With all that gear on, I’d sink like a rock. But, Dad, I understand that because a float is like a boat. It’s a device made for travel on water. But Peter … How did that work?”
“If you’ll get me a pot full of water, I’ll give you a demonstration that may help.”
In less than a minute, Rob had grabbed the largest cooking pot they had, gone to a small stream by the side of the camp, filled the pot with water, returned to the fire, and placed a few more logs on it to give better light. He knew he was about to receive some special instruction and he was ready.
In the meantime, his dad had placed a piece of steel wool and a small bottle of dishwashing soap on a flat rock near the fire. Rob couldn’t resist commenting with a smile, “Dad, we’ve already washed the dishes.”
Letting the one-liner slide by, his father began. “Without proper displacement, like in a ship, steel is not supposed to float. But watch this piece of steel wool as I place it on the surface of the water in the pot. It floats. You learned the reason why in physics. It is because of surface tension. The pressure of the molecules against one another on the surface of the water will support the steel fibers. If we break the surface tension, watch what happens. Let’s add just one small drop of dishwashing soap to the water. The surfactants, chemicals in the soap which break surface tension so dishwashing can be effective, break the surface tension below the steel wool and … look. Rapidly the steel wool now acts like steel should and sinks to the bottom of the pot.
“We don’t know if Peter’s faith strengthened the force of the surface tension of the water or if it made him lighter, or if some other force was at work. It really doesn’t matter. What does matter is that the moment he began to doubt, the miraculous power of faith which permitted him to walk on water was broken and he sank, just like steel wool.
“Faith is not a simple subject, Rob. In general terms, our faith must have four parts. First of all we must have faith in our Heavenly Father, that he loves us and will bless us as we do his will. Then we must have faith in Jesus Christ and that through his atonement we can become clean and pure after proper repentance. How can we have his Spirit to be with us if we are not willing to take his name upon us, remember him always, and keep his commandments?
“Next, we must have faith in our leaders. If we doubt their counsel, it is like knifing our own inner tube or using a surfactant to break the surface tension under our feet. In the gospel, if we doubt the prophet, the General Authorities, or our local leaders, we sink like a rock.
Last, but not least, we must have faith in ourselves; in our own ability to receive guidance and revelation because we are abiding by the other aspects of faith. As a result, we can receive the assurance that we do know the will of God and are able to carry it out.
The Savior of all mankind said to Peter, ‘Come.’ Through the Spirit, it is as if he were saying to you, Rob, ‘Come. Trust in me. Serve a mission and I will bless you. Have faith in your Heavenly Father, in me and in the Atonement, in priesthood leaders and in yourself.’ When you do these things, then, if the Lord commands, you will have the power to do all things, including walking on water.”
Father and son sat quietly for some minutes watching the embers dim. The warmth Rob felt now was not from the fire. It came from within, and he felt sure and strong as the words formed in his mind: “Come. Be not afraid.”

Seminary students from four wards slip quietly from their homes in the dark stillness of the hour before dawn. The chill of fall in the air encourages them to run quickly to the warmth of a waiting car, already half-filled with other sleepy teens and leaders. The city will not wake for another two hours, and only a few delivery trucks and early commuters compete with the caravan of trucks and cars carrying the Latter-day Saint youth out of the city and up the serpentine road to Cerro de la Gloria.

By the time the group arrives at the top of the mountain, a faint, orange-pink glow is visible above the horizon in the east; but the “Hill of Glory” is still guarding its treasure. In the gray light of predawn, a hymn is sung, a prayer is offered, and the students begin this day’s study of the gospel. Only then does the darkness give up its secret—streaks of red and orange fill the sky as the sun reveals the glory of the panorama surrounding today’s mountaintop classroom. The majestic peaks of the Andes Mountains on the west and the sweeping plains surrounding the city on the east display the glorious work of the Creator.

In this idyllic setting—much different from their ordinary classroom—these young men and young women in Mendoza, Argentina, are spiritually fed and fortified to face the challenges of another day. As the sun rises higher, the spirit of the morning begins to transform to the concerns of the day, but the students linger a moment and talk about the blessings of having the gospel in their lives.

When I was single, I made friends with someone who decided to come back to church after many years of inactivity. She struggled with faith and testimony but continued to attend church and meet with our bishop regularly. Eventually she started dating a member of our singles ward but still struggled with her testimony. She wasn't sure what she really believed, and the lure of the world seemed much more attractive than being obedient to the teachings of Jesus Christ. In one fast and testimony meeting, she was sitting on the back row next to her boyfriend, and after several testimonies had been borne, she looked at him and said, "You don't really believe this, do you?" He looked back at her and with all seriousness said, "Yes, yes I do." His short but sincere testimony had affected her. She didn't expect an answer from him with such conviction, but when it came she felt the Spirit and realized she believed too. She took the steps necessary to prepare to enter the temple, and they were sealed in the San Diego Temple.

Her story taught me a beautiful lesson about testimony. When you bear honest, sincere testimony, the Spirit will witness the truth of it. Not only will your testimony grow, but the testimony of those around you will grow.

When Cathy Gurley was young, she had a dream. More than anything else, she wanted to be Miss Rosewood, queen of her school. Her goal was to be someone that the other students at the school would look to as an example. So she practiced dancing and singing, talents she thought would help her win the contest.
When she was a senior in high school, Cathy was voted Miss Rosewood in the town of Goldsboro, North Carolina. Then she started winning other contests, like the district FHA Sweetheart, and queen of the Wayne County Fireman’s Pageant, and eventually Miss North Carolina Teen Hemisphere.
But on her way to those recognitions, Cathy became a real winner when she developed another talent. It wouldn’t help her win a contest, but it helped her win friends and lift the spirits of people who needed help. Cathy learned how to care about other people.
“I really enjoy helping people,” said Cathy. “When I smile, I like to see them smile back. And so many people need someone to help them.”
Cathy has been helping people—the elderly, the retarded, the handicapped. She’s spent hundreds of hours visiting her friends at rest homes, singing at dances for retarded people, visiting at a center for severely retarded people, adopting a grandparent, helping her mother teach a Sunday School class for the retarded, and being a friend to people who are too often friendless. Cathy’s mom gave her encouragement along the way and helped organize many of the parties where Cathy performed.
“My older brother Bobby is retarded, so it’s natural that I’d associate with other retarded children,” said Cathy. “I couldn’t ask for a better brother. He’s seven years older than I am, and I was born on his birthday. He’s always said that I was his birthday present. We’ve been very close.”
Cathy would go to parties for her brother Bobby and his friends and sing for them. “I’ve always wanted to be an entertainer, so it was fun for me. They don’t care how bad you sing. They appreciate even small things. The rest of us need to be more like they are.”
Cathy’s mother worked in rest homes when Cathy was little and sometimes had to work on holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas. “I wanted her to understand why I couldn’t be at home, so I’d bring her to the rest homes with me on those holidays,” said Sister Gurley.
“She’d leave me and go talk to the people. Cathy has never been afraid of a retarded or elderly or handicapped person, maybe because she was brought up around them.”
Growing up with her brother also helped Cathy develop sensitivity to others. Her mother said, “I’d come home from work tired, and Bobby would say he wanted to go meet his friends. I’d tell him I was just too tired and couldn’t get him dressed. Then Cathy would say, ‘If I dress him and get him ready to go, would you take him?’
“Christ told us we need to become like little children. So many of these people have that sweetness like little children. They never hold a grudge or lash out at people,” added Sister Gurley.
Cathy has also spent many hours helping at rest homes. “I guess because I was so close to my grandparents and my mother is a nurse, it was easy for me to volunteer my time,” said Cathy. “My Aunt Mamie worked as a recreation specialist at a rest home when I was 11, so she’d ask me and my cousin to go over there and help. We’d spend the whole day. We’d play bingo with the people. I’d help roll them in their wheelchairs out into the middle of the halls for supper, deliver the mail, read to them if they needed it, and just talk.”
Eventually, Cathy “adopted” a grandfather, a friend of her grandmother.
“My grandfather died when I was very young, so my grandmother started dating Waldo,” said Cathy. “They’d come out to my house to visit, and I enjoyed his friendship. When my grandmother died, he sort of got out of circulation and didn’t have any companionship. My grandmother had more or less taken care of him and fixed him supper each day. So Waldo and I kept in touch, and I decided to adopt him. I’d call and see how he was doing, stop by to see him, visit him on holidays, and take him treats. Now he’s in a rest home, and we keep in close touch.”
Cathy has helped with a Sunday School class for the handicapped, too, held in her home after regular church meetings. The first hour of the class the students learn about the scriptures, and the second hour they do crafts. Cathy often makes cookies or cupcakes for them. She also found time to organize a drill team for grade school girls.
Cathy has always found time to accomplish her goals. She has helped with political campaigns and even served as a page in her state legislature. She attended seminary for four years. (“It really helped me gain a testimony,” said Cathy.) She took modeling classes for several years, and her teacher encouraged her to enter the Miss Teen North Carolina Hemisphere competition.
“I won the state competition, so I competed in the nationals, which were held in Philadelphia and included the western hemisphere—Guam, Canada, the U.S., and the Bahamas,” Cathy said.
“I learned that it wasn’t that important to be beautiful. I just wanted to put on my jeans and be myself, but for 24 hours a day I was there fixing my hair and putting on lipstick, and I’m just not used to doing that much. You couldn’t go out of your door unless you were all dressed up, and that’s just not for me.
“I really enjoyed entertaining others for the competition, though, and it helped me develop a talent I didn’t think I had. I’d always taken ballet, but I realized I needed another talent to win the state competition. I told my mom, ‘I’ve got to sing!’ She smiled and said, ‘You can’t sing.’ And I said, ‘Well, I’m just going to have to learn.’ So I took lessons and practiced, and I won the contest. I realize now that I can sing and not be embarrassed. I met some nice people in the pageant, too.”
She also realized that she was an example to a lot of her friends. “Lots of times at high school I wouldn’t go to parties because I knew there would be drinking. Everybody would go, and I would sit home. It wasn’t always easy, but it was the right thing.
“Then some of my friends would tell me things like ‘I really don’t enjoy drinking, and I don’t know why I do. I wish I had the courage to say no.’ They’d see me and realize that they didn’t have to drink. It’s important to do what you know is right.”
In the Gurley’s front room, Cathy’s trophies are displayed. She’s won awards for most valuable cheerleader, most valuable model at her modeling school, FHA Sweetheart, and first-place in beauty, talent, modeling, and most photogenic for North Carolina Teen Hemisphere.
But she doesn’t need a trophy for the things that are most important to her. She carries those qualities around with her every day.
The Savior said, “A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another” (John 13:34).
That’s another goal that Cathy’s working toward.

Instead, I joined a neighborhood team with lots of friends. We had a great time the first year and were successful, but the second year the team struggled and sometimes lost focus on the game. I became frustrated. I put my best effort into every game, but we almost always lost.
After one very bad game, Coach Hashem, whose team was doing well, approached me on the football field. He asked me how things were going. I said, “Not so good.” I told him I missed my old teammates. Hashem coached with a great deal of skill and always seemed to get the most from his players.
“How would you like to be a guest player for our team when we go to the next tournament?” Hashem asked.
“I would really like that!” I responded excitedly.
“Great!” Hashem said, smiling. “I need to ask you one question though. Can you play on Sundays?” My stomach muscles tightened. I suddenly felt sick. I remembered what had happened that last time this question had been asked.
I looked at my mom. I looked at my dad. They too waited for my answer. I looked at Hashem.
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t play on Sundays,” I said. “Will that make a difference?”
Hashem stood there for a moment. He had seen the expression of hope on my face fade quickly as I had answered his question.
“No, that’s OK,” Hashem responded. “We probably won’t get to the Sunday finals. We’d love to have you play with us.”
Soon I started practicing with Hashem’s team. The team played with a great deal of intensity, and they welcomed me back. I loved playing with them.
We didn’t win all of our games at the tournament, but we all tried our hardest, and we had a good time. Soon I became a permanent member of Hashem’s team. Though they knew I didn’t play on Sundays, they still appreciated me for what I added to the team on the other game days.

A few years ago, the Campbells lived on Chestnut Street in town. Their home was spacious and it had a swimming pool. The Campbells had two sons, but were told by doctors that because of medical complications it was unlikely Sister Campbell would have any more children. So the parents decided to continue their family anyway—by adopting.

“We feel as though we’ve always been a family,” Phil said. “Some of us just took a little longer to get here. First came Mike (who is 19 and currently serving in the Washington Seattle Mission), then myself. Then we adopted Lynn. Then we decided Lynn needed a sister, and Julie was adopted. Then the agency called and asked if we would like another girl, and Christine joined us. Then we wanted Jabez (“J.J.”) to even up the boy-girl ratio.

“Dad and mom prayed and prayed about having another child of their own but had nearly abandoned hope, even though they felt the Lord would bless them. Then miraculously Sam was born without any problems. It surprised everyone, since we had figured J. J. was the caboose! Then when Joe (“Little Bear”) was adopted, he filled in the space between Christine and Lynn. Then we wanted another girl, but Monty Jr. (“June Bug”) needed a home, and we all fell in love with him.

“We thought that was it, but then the agency called and asked mom and dad if they wanted two more!” So Nicholas and Doug joined the family. Now the roll call at the dinner table reads like this: Mike (he’s always remembered, and sometimes his letters are read aloud), Phillip, Christine, Joe, Lynn, Julie, Jabez, Nicholas, Sammy (5), Doug (4), and Monty Jr. (2). “That makes 11,” Sister Campbell said, smiling. “And now we figure one more would be perfect.”

Sister Campbell explained that she and her husband are the only Indians listed with the adoption agency, and that because they have such a positive record, the local magistrate (himself one of 11 children) is eager to help. “It’s our experience in family court that we don’t find too many happy occasions such as this,” Judge Victor E. Manz said. “At a time when people say the family is falling apart, this family is a true inspiration.” Although the children come from various tribes, they are all adopted into the Cayuga tribe when they join the family.

I went to my bishop to make things right, and we met regularly to prepare me to serve a mission. My papers were almost finished when I was prompted to make sure that he understood some of the choices I had made. That conversation wasn’t easy, but even more than I wanted to go on a mission, I wanted to be right before God. I was willing to own what I had done wrong and lay it all out before Him so I could be clean.

Soon after, I came before a disciplinary council. It was scary in some ways to admit what I had done in front of people who had been my leaders and mentors for years, but as I looked around the room, I felt peace. I could see that they were there to understand and help me. As I left, I felt the Spirit assure me that no matter what the decision was, I was doing my part and I was going to be OK. God and leaders who loved me would work with me to get me where I needed to be. I walked away feeling the love of the Savior and knowing that I wasn’t beyond His redemption.

Despite the peace I had felt, it was hard to face the questions from people about why I wasn’t on a mission. As I continued working through the repentance process with the help of my bishop, it became less and less likely that serving a mission was in my future. I had to figure out how to move forward with my life. At 21, because I didn’t fall into the pre-missionary, returned missionary, or married groups of young adults, it was hard to feel like I belonged anywhere.

Dating was tough. Sometimes girls would treat me differently after I would tell them I didn’t serve a mission and that I was inactive for a period of time. For one reason or another, most interactions never made it past the first date.

I was happy that I eventually did get married in the temple, but sometimes I still felt like I didn’t fit in. I had a testimony, but I couldn’t figure out how to share it, and church classrooms felt like tests where my peers would see me fail. I thought that because most of them had the lives I wanted, they hadn’t stumbled as much as I had.

One day the bishop called me in and extended the call to teach elders quorum. I was surprised, since I had only been to elders quorum twice in the last year. Despite feeling incredibly anxious, I accepted the calling. On my first Sunday teaching, I found myself starting out with probably the strangest introduction they had ever heard:
“Hi, brothers, I’m Richard Monson. I never served a mission and I’ve been inactive most of my adult life. I haven’t attended elders quorum pretty much ever because I don’t feel like I belong or fit in. I won’t be able to answer all your questions, but I’m hoping that you will participate so we can learn together. If you’re OK with where I’m coming from, then we’ll get started.”
I realized that day that I could admit to others—and to myself—that even though I didn’t consider myself a “straight arrow” (someone who served a mission, was active all their lives, and hadn’t made serious mistakes), I was pointed in the same direction as they were, and that was what mattered. To my amazement, I found that more than one of these men whom I thought led perfect lives had made mistakes too. I think it reinforced the idea to all of us that perfection isn’t a requirement to bring value to the class or the Church as a whole.
Unfortunately, my activity in the Church didn’t last. My marriage was difficult, and I turned to old vices to escape my pain. Hobbies began to replace church attendance.

Three years passed, and I reached rock bottom. I had to make a choice. Could I live the gospel for myself regardless of what was happening in my life? Or would I just give in to the darkness? I knew that committing to the strait and narrow path meant getting rid of negative influences in my life. Also, my desires to go back to church highlighted that my spouse and I were on different paths. With the state of our marriage at that point, we were headed toward divorce already.

I was scared. There was no guarantee that my efforts would grant me the good things I wanted in this life. But my decision came back to what I had learned years before—that I was happiest living the gospel. I decided to commit fully and put myself in God’s hands, come what may. From here on out, it was me and Him.

Once again, I started going back to church and getting my life on track. One of the happiest days of my life was when I received a temple recommend again. I found solace in the temple as my marriage continued to fracture and ultimately came to an end.

As scary as that decision felt, through that experience I learned to appreciate God’s hand in my path. Even though I had stumbled, the race wasn’t lost. I wasn’t competing with anyone else. When I relied on the Savior for my self-worth, I could stop spending all my efforts trying to change others’ perspective of me.

I found myself at church being OK sitting alone or amidst members who were in different stages of life. I made an effort not to hide and made myself available to talk with people in my ward. I was able to enjoy attending my meetings for their intended purpose.

Having that peace also helped as I got back into dating. I still didn’t get a lot of second dates, but I now knew I didn’t have to compromise my standards just because I had slipped up in the past. I was living the gospel to the best of my ability, and I was good enough to date those who were living the gospel to the best of theirs too.

I ultimately found a worthy daughter of God who I married in the temple. Her path was very different than mine, but when it came to a love of the Savior and an understanding of His Atonement, we were on the same page.

Over the years, I have learned not to let my past or other people’s approval define my current self-worth. I’ve let go of the idea that success looks like one set of life experiences. Not everyone has appreciated where I am now because of how I’ve gotten here, and that’s OK. It’s not my goal to convince them. It is my goal to keep repenting and coming closer to the Savior. It’s because of Him that, like Alma the Younger after his repentance, I can be “harrowed up by the memory of my sins no more” (Alma 36:19). I can be at peace knowing that it’s where I’m headed—toward the Savior—that counts.

Photographs by Richard M. Romney
One night not too long ago, Joshua Mana, who would soon turn 18, was talking with his parents about the years their family spent in refugee camps.
“The camps are not where you would wish to live,” his father Fredrick said, “because of the hardship.”
The first camp was on the eastern border of the Democratic Republic of Congo. The family, fleeing war and genocide to the west, lived there for two years. Shelter was poor, food scarce, and illness common.
“That is where your brother Patric died when he was just 11 years old,” Fredrick said. “We were sad in that place.”
The second camp was south across the border, in Zambia.
“That’s where you were born,” his mother Esperance said. “We named you Joshua, like the righteous prophet in the Bible. To me you will always be Joshua, a gift from God, because even in the camps God was with us.”
In the second camp, life was no easier. “Sometimes we were able to find jobs, but only as volunteers,” Fredrick explained. “Maybe they gave you food, maybe a little bit of money at the end of the month. But in a refugee camp, even that is a lot. With a few friends, we worked together, and some were able to leave for France, Canada, and other countries.” And Joshua’s family—his mother and father, two older sisters, and himself—were able to move to a one-room apartment in Lusaka, where they scraped by.
“We knew there was a resettlement program,” Esperance said. “But we had no hope. People will take your application, but if you don’t have money to give them, they just trash it. We were poor. We were desperate. All we could do was pray.”
Photograph from Getty Images
“In the second camp, life was no easier. … We were poor. We were desperate. All we could do was pray.”
A friend in France kept writing letters and making appeals on their behalf. Then one day, after four years of waiting, their names showed up on a list of those approved for resettlement. It was a miracle!
There was just one catch. “We would be going directly to Salt Lake City, Utah, USA,” Esperance said. “We knew a little about big cities like New York, but we didn’t know Salt Lake City. ‘Are you sure this is in the USA?’ we asked. ‘Yes, yes,’ the official said. ‘Somewhere in USA.’”
“We didn’t expect any help when we got to Utah,” Fredrick said. “But that’s not what happened.”
“The first person we met made us feel welcome,” Esperance recalled. “She came with her family to visit our apartment. They saw how we ate, how we slept, what we worried about. It was the first time someone was concerned about how they could help.”
“She and her husband were like parents to us,” Fredrick said. “They helped us learn about the customs of this new country. They helped us find work.”
“We could tell they were Christians, and we were Christians, too,” Esperance said. “We asked if we could learn about their Church.”
And learn they did. Soon they were meeting regularly with the missionaries. “Each teaching made sense to us, especially what they called the great plan of happiness,” Esperance said. “I cried and cried when they told us we could be together as a family in eternity, and that we would see Patric again. We knew it was true.”
Fredrick and Esperance were baptized and confirmed. Joshua was baptized when he turned eight. And Joshua and Patric have been sealed to their parents, giving them the opportunity to be together when this life is through. Other family members are still learning about the gospel.
As a member of the Church, Joshua was particularly impressed with a certain group of young adults. “At first, I wasn’t sure what an ‘RM’ was. But the more I watched returned missionaries, and whenever I spent time around one of them, I knew I wanted to be one too,” he recalls.
Year after year, the returned missionaries impressed him. When he came of age, Joshua met with his bishop, submitted his application, and waited to receive his mission call.
“The more I watched returned missionaries … I knew I wanted to be one too.”
That’s when, one Sunday, half a dozen refugees who are returned missionaries—and also friends with Joshua—gathered in the cultural hall after church to counsel with him.
One of them, Madelaine Lamah, who served in the New York New York South Mission, said her mission motto was “Forever Changed.” She reminded Joshua that joining the Church changed his family’s life and that he would be an instrument of change for others as he shared the gospel with them.
Jean-Pierre Benimana, who served in the California Los Angeles Mission, reminded Joshua that “the happiest people on earth are those who live the gospel of Jesus Christ with all their hearts.”
The returned missionaries were refugees from countries like Burundi and Rwanda, in Africa, and Burma, in Asia. They have served in places like Los Angeles, California, and Birmingham, Alabama, in the USA, and in western African countries like Benin and Côte d’Ivoire. They were blessed to receive the gospel, and they were equally blessed to share it. Now they explained to Joshua that he was about to become a part of that legacy.
A few weeks later, a big, white envelope arrived in the mail. Another group gathered, this time at Fredrick and Esperance’s home. The group included family, LDS friends and neighbors, and some friends from other faiths.
Joshua, dressed in a white shirt and tie, stood up, opened the envelope, and read, “Dear Elder Mana: You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the Brazil Porto Alegre South Mission …”
There were cheers, tears, hugs, but most of all, joy. Then there was a brief moment for Elder Mana to speak.
He quoted a scripture he has learned to love: “Freely ye have received, freely give” (Matthew 10:8).
Then he shared his testimony: “The gospel has changed my life so much because it helps me to know that Father in Heaven has a plan for us, and if we follow His commandments we can go back to Him again one day. Every day I follow the Holy Ghost. He prompts me what to do, because there’s lots of work that Father in Heaven needs me to do to build His kingdom.
“Being a missionary is part of that, as well. My purpose in going on a mission is to bring people to Christ and give them the gospel.”
It’s a testimony he will share freely, and often, with the people of Brazil.

Shortly after my baptism, I was with other Native Americans at a youth conference near my hometown in Farmington, New Mexico. We were told an Apostle of the Lord, Elder Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985), would be speaking to us. I had never seen him before, but when he arrived, I remember feeling something special in his presence.
I had that same feeling several years later when Elder Kimball spoke to a group of Native American students at Brigham Young University. He said he could see the progress of the Native American people. He could see them as engineers and builders, owners of industries and factories. He also saw them in political positions and as doctors and lawyers looking after their people.
I remember listening carefully to his words. The Spirit witnessed to me that I should remember them, so I took a copy of this part of Elder Kimball’s talk and put it in my scriptures. I still have it there, and I’ve been prompted to read it again and again. The paper is old now. It looks like an ancient document, but it has been a guide for me.
Elder Spencer W. Kimball, who later became President of the Church, had a great love for Native Americans.
Before graduating from BYU, I read Elder Kimball’s words again about seeing Native Americans as lawyers looking after their people. I decided to go to law school and become a lawyer. I’m grateful for the opportunities I’ve had to use my education to help others. I have also been elected to several political offices. Growing up, I never thought I would have a university education or run for political office. I probably would have done none of these things without the words of a prophet, seer, and revelator of the Lord to guide me.

But at other times you won’t have certainty. You won’t be certain about what God wants you to do and you won’t be certain about what you want to do. When I finished my doctoral program, I felt lost in both of those areas. I thought that eleven years of higher education should have left me with a clear sense of what I wanted to be when I grew up, but instead those waters felt muddier than they had ever felt. I thought that, by that point of my life, I should have felt more confident that I could hear and know the will of the Lord, but right then it seemed that the heavens were silent.

In that moment, the only thing I could do was move forward. I wanted to move forward along the right path, but the only thing I could do at that time was move forward along a path. I wanted to know that everything was going to work out for the best, but that was not something I could know. Embracing uncertainty is hard, but at some points in our lives it is the only thing we can do.

At stake conference I heard a General Authority speak about being committed to making the right decisions. Afterward, I remember getting on my knees and saying to Heavenly Father, “This is what I plan to do. Wouldst thou help me?” I vowed that I would keep the Word of Wisdom throughout my life, that some day I would tell my grandchildren truthfully that I had never touched tobacco, tea, coffee, or a drop of liquor. I decided then how I was going to act so that decision never had to be made again.

The Church News published a story about a small ward in Ecuador that did just that.
For three decades the Church had thrived in the small town of Otavalo, and many had entered the waters of baptism. Not everyone in the village, however, shared those warm feelings. One man in particular hated the Church and everything about it. “Whenever the members wanted to build a new meetinghouse, this man opposed it. When graffiti appeared on Church property, it was rumored that he had taken part in it.”

One day an earthquake hit the Otavalo area and toppled the man’s house.
He appealed for help . . . to the city, then to the churches. But Otavalo is a humble community and few had the resources to do anything. . . .
And so it happened that . . . this man who hated the Church did something he thought he would never do—he knocked on the door of Rafael Campo, the high priests group leader. . . .

“. . . My house fell down and I don’t have the money to fix it. I know we haven’t seen eye to eye in the past and that I have no right to ask anything of you, but the fact remains, I have no house for my family and I wondered if . . . your church could help?”

Brother Campo had joined the Church 30 years earlier. He was one of the first to be baptized in all of Otavalo. He had personally witnessed the man’s often vindictive words and actions towards the Church.
[As the man spoke,] numerous thoughts passed through Brother Campo’s mind. . . . But, ultimately, the words that struck him with the greatest power were those of the Savior, “but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.” (Matthew 5:39.)
“We have been teaching this for 30 years,” he told himself. “Perhaps it is time to practice what we have been taught.”

Brother Campo explained the situation to the bishop, and during a quorum meeting the next Sunday the bishop said:
“We all know this man. . . . We all know what has happened in the past. But the man does not have a home and he has come to us seeking help.”

The bishop passed around a list and asked the brethren who desired to help to indicate what they were willing to donate. There were 23 men in the meeting that day. When the list had finished circulating, 23 names appeared on it.
One offered to bring 5 pounds of nails. One said he had some framing wood. Another could bring 50 cement blocks. One offered sand, another labor.
The following day the quorum “assembled at 7 a.m. and built a modest but sturdy home for a man who only a few days before had been their greatest enemy.” (Taken from Neil Newell, “To Build a House in Ecuador,” Church News, 20 January 2001, 11.)

During our last stake conference, something momentous happened for me. Our stake president asked us to read a scripture in Mosiah that was near a verse I had highlighted on the previous page. I felt prompted to turn the page back and read what I had marked:
“I pray that ye should awake to a remembrance of the awful situation of those that have fallen into transgression.
“And moreover, I would desire that ye should consider on the blessed and happy state of those that keep the commandments of God. For behold, they are blessed in all things, both temporal and spiritual; and if they hold out faithful to the end they are received into heaven, that thereby they may dwell with God in a state of never-ending happiness. O remember, remember that these things are true; for the Lord God hath spoken it” (Mosiah 2:40–41).
The last sentence struck me. I realized I had never really received a testimony of the Book of Mormon. Since I had grown up in an LDS family, I just took for granted that it was all true and believed what people had told me. But I didn’t have that knowledge for myself. I lacked a surety that this is the true Church, that Joseph Smith saw God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, and that President Thomas S. Monson does receive revelation from God. But the sentence, “O remember, remember that these things are true; for the Lord God hath spoken it,” made me realize it couldn’t be this way forever. I needed to find out for myself if this really was the truth. So I began to pray.
“Dear Heavenly Father, I. …”
But I didn’t get any further. I felt the Spirit so strongly within me it brought tears to my eyes. It was actually burning in my bosom, and I choked on the words. I have never felt anything so compelling and real. I had finally experienced personal revelation that the Book of Mormon was true, and I knew it. Suddenly the Spirit brought back to my memory Moroni 10:4:
“And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.”
I began again. “Heavenly Father, I need to gain my own testimony of the truth of this book, and of this Church. I ask you, in the name of Jesus Christ, are these things true?” And once again, the Spirit confirmed truth. It was so powerful. I knew there could only be one answer, and I knew it as surely as I know 2+2=4.
The Book of Mormon is true. Joseph Smith actually was a prophet, and Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ did appear to him in the Sacred Grove. President Thomas S. Monson is a true prophet, and he does receive divine guidance to lead this Church, a Church I now know for sure is true. I hope all people take the advice Moroni gave us and pray in the name of Christ, with a sincere heart, real intent, and faith, and ask if these things are true. I know the answer will be “Yes. Yes, it is.” I hope we all will “remember, remember that these things are true, for the Lord God hath spoken it.”

by Elder Craig BarrOhio Columbus Mission
Every year there is a big celebration down in Elkins, West Virginia, called the Forest Festival. To take part in the festival missionaries in the past have set up a display about some aspect of the Church. This year we decided to really do a good job.
Our display consisted of a giant painting of the Washington D.C. Temple. In fact, it was 8-by-12 feet and was painted by an artist in the branch in Elkins. To go with the painting, we obtained a tent 20-by-40 feet from the Army Reserve Depot at Charleston, West Virginia. We set up the tent behind the painting and showed movies to festival visitors. We ran Man’s Search for Happiness, Meet the Mormons, and The New Landmark, a film on the Washington D.C. Temple. On each side of the entrance we placed a display board and pamphlets. These were centered on the family, the family home evening program, and temple work. Floodlights were also set up. There was a blue light in front of the painting to enhance the beauty of the temple and white lights on the side to offset the color and light the display boards. The title of our booth was Why Families and Why Temples?
For four days we had from two to four missionaries at the booth. The response that we received was tremendous. We were kept busy day and night. Many people stopped and commented on the painting, and many others asked for pamphlets and wanted to see the movies. Others requested to hear the missionary lessons or signed our guest register and asked us to come and see them after the festival was over.
The last day there was a parade, and the special guest was President Gerald R. Ford. He stopped and waved to us when he saw the painting of the temple.
We closed down the booth that same evening. When we reflected back over those hurried days, we could see what a great success the booth had been. We had received over 40 referrals and many other verbal referrals. We had come in contact with people who requested that the missionaries come to their homes. Now we are busy teaching and are very grateful for the response that we had. We are especially grateful to those who donated time and talents to help make the display a success.

It was kind of a ritual. Win or lose, after a football game we’d all pile into my old green car and head for our favorite pizza hangout to either celebrate or sulk. The place was always crowded, especially after a victory. That night, everybody was there after we defeated our crosstown rivals.
By the time the football team arrived, it was wall-to-wall people. I had somehow managed to find a seat in the corner and started looking for Dave, my older brother.
Dave always seemed to be in the center of the action and excitement. He was kind of a clown, but it was his easy-going personality that made people want to be around him. In the short time we had lived in Colorado, he’d been elected student-body president of our high school.
Growing up, we’d been somewhat competitive, but usually we got along like good friends, especially when I grew to be bigger than he was and he couldn’t beat me up anymore. In high school, I wasn’t as popular as Dave, but Dave often let me tag along with him and his friends. It made me proud to be called “Dave’s big little brother.”
As the crowd grew at the restaurant, I finally spotted Dave at a table near the center of the room. Suddenly, somebody yelled, “Hey, everybody, it’s Dave’s 18th birthday. He’s a man now.”
“Yeah, now he’s legal” someone else added. At the time, the law in Colorado stated that if you were 18, you could legally buy and drink beer. For the handful of Mormons in our school, turning 18 was just another birthday. For most of our classmates, though, becoming “legal” was a big event in their lives.
Slowly, people began to crowd around Dave’s table and soon everybody was joining in a rowdy chorus of “Happy Birthday to You.”
“Close your eyes, Dave,” somebody yelled out. A path was cleared as a huge glass of foamy, golden beer was brought forward and thrust into Dave’s hands. The whole place erupted into wild cheers. One of the cheerleaders yelled out, “Chug it, Dave! Chug it!” She was soon joined by the rest of the crowd who picked up her chant.
From off in the corner, I watched Dave and wondered what he’d do. He’d always been my example. He’d always been faithful. Of course, he’d never faced a situation like this before. I watched him look around the room at all the cheerleaders and football players and the rest of the crowd surrounding him. I don’t think he saw me watching him back in the corner.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Dave pushed his chair back from the table and rose to his feet. He picked up the glass of beer and raised it slowly in the air. My heart was pounding with anticipation, and I imagined Dave’s was too.
Somebody yelled for quiet, and, except for the jukebox in the other room, the place grew silent.
“I just want to thank everyone for thinking of me on my birthday,” Dave said, as he looked toward his raised glass. “But come on, you guys. You know me better than that. Thanks anyway.” As Dave lowered the glass and sat down, a moan rumbled through the crowd and somebody muttered something about Mormons not having any fun.
After we’d had all the pizza and root beer we could hold, Dave and I walked out into the crisp autumn air toward my car. “Dave, I was worried for a minute that you might crack under the pressure and do something stupid,” I said.
He just shrugged and said, “There wasn’t any big pressure because I didn’t have to make any decisions tonight. I’d already decided a long time ago that I was going to keep the Word of Wisdom. It’s a lot easier that way.”
I just smiled. As we drove home, I was as proud as ever to be Dave’s big little brother.

Daniel Tyler, an associate of the Prophet, recalled an important occasion: “At the time William Smith and others rebelled against the Prophet [at Kirtland], … I attended a meeting … where ‘Joseph’ presided. Entering the schoolhouse a little before [the] meeting opened, and gazing upon the man of God, I perceived sadness in his countenance and tears trickling down his cheeks. … A few moments later a hymn was sung and he opened the meeting by prayer. Instead of facing the audience, however, he turned his back and bowed upon his knees, facing the wall. This, I suppose, was done to hide his sorrow and tears.

“I had heard men and women pray—especially the former—from the most ignorant, both as to letters and intellect, to the most learned and eloquent, but never until then had I heard a man address his Maker as though He was present listening as a kind father would listen to the sorrows of a dutiful child. Joseph was at that time unlearned, but that prayer, which was to a considerable extent in behalf of those who accused him of having gone astray and fallen into sin, [was] that the Lord would forgive them and open their eyes that they might see aright—that prayer, I say, to my humble mind, partook of the learning and eloquence of heaven. There was no ostentation, no raising of the voice as by enthusiasm, but a plain conversational tone, as a man would address a present friend. It appeared to me as though, in case the vail were taken away, I could see the Lord standing facing His humblest of all servants I had ever seen. … It was the crowning … of all the prayers I ever heard.”

Some months ago I heard that the wife of a friend was again threatening miscarriage. I hurried, along with others who were concerned about the baby, to make sure that things would be well. While arrangements were still being made, we were told that it was too late. This was the third time she had gone through this painful experience. I asked myself: What can I say to comfort them? How will the Lord help them overcome this new blow?
The day she left the hospital she heard about another sister from her stake who was going through the same experience. Full of trust in the Lord, she went to visit the sister and give her support. She changed her own tragedy into a blessing of comfort for others.