Gospel Story Finder

My life is a witness to God’s guiding hand, even amidst profound challenges. My father and mother divorced just days before my birth, leaving me to be raised by my maternal grandparents. When I was two years old, my mother remarried, and I was left struggling to understand my place in the world. Diagnosed with a speech condition, I faced additional challenges in communication.
One of the most defining moments of my life occurred during a severe illness in my early years. I was pronounced dead, and my family wept over me. Yet my grandfather arrived from the farm and declared with unshakable faith, “Michel is not dead. He is the one who will build this house, even great story buildings.”
His words were a powerful reminder of God’s foresight and purpose for my life.

Sister Meacham stood up in Primary and said, “Boys and girls, we want you to share your wonderful talents at our Primary Celebrations Show!”
Allison slid down in her chair. What could she possibly perform at a talent show? She didn’t sing, play an instrument, dance, or do anything else like that.
Her best friend, Sarah, leaned over. “I know what song I want to sing!”
“You’ll be awesome,” Allison said. And she would, too. Sarah had such a pretty singing voice. And, of course, Courtney was incredible on the piano. Allison glanced around the room. Everybody else had a special talent. Everybody but her.
Later that day Allison helped Mom deliver some surprise cookies to Sister Moody. Allison rang the doorbell.
“Who’s there?” asked a soft voice.
“Sister Andrews,” answered Mom. “And my daughter. We wanted to drop off some of Allison’s homemade cookies.”
Sister Moody opened the door, and her face lit up in a big smile. “My favorite!” Sister Moody took the plate gratefully. “What a talent. Thank you so much for sharing it with me.”
Allison’s heart skipped a beat. Baking cookies was a talent?
During the car ride home, Allison glanced up at Mom. “Mom, Sister Moody said baking cookies is a talent. Is she right?”
“You bet she is.”
“But … well, you can’t bake cookies on a stage. Nobody claps when you mix dough in a bowl or pull cookies out of the oven.”
Allison always figured making cookies was no big deal. She’d made that chocolate chip recipe so many times she had it memorized.
“Not all talents belong on a stage, sweetheart,” Mom said. “Some people are thoughtful friends or wonderful gardeners. Being able to cook well is definitely a talent not everyone has.”
Allison thought about what Mom had said. Was it really that simple? A moment later she asked, almost in a whisper, “Do you think I could bake cookies for the Primary talent show?”
Mom reached over and squeezed Allison’s hand. “I think that’s a great idea.”
On the day of the talent show, Allison rushed home from school and started baking. She made five batches of her favorite chocolate chip cookies. The house filled with the smell of chocolaty goodness.
At the talent show, Allison sat next to Sarah and Courtney.
“Your name’s not on the program,” Sarah said. “Aren’t you doing anything?”
“Yes. But it’s a surprise.”
One by one her friends performed. Allison clapped loudly each time. They really were impressive. When everyone finished, Sister Meacham stood and thanked everyone for participating.
“Often we only think of talents as being good at music, art, and singing,” Sister Meacham said. “However, talents come in many different forms. Tonight Allison wanted to share her own special talent. After the closing prayer, you’re all invited into the next room to enjoy her homemade chocolate chip cookies.”
Ooh’s and Mmm’s filled the room. After the prayer everybody hurried into the next room.
“These are so good,” Sarah said, taking a bite of her second cookie.
“I wish I could make cookies this yummy!” Courtney said.
Within minutes, only crumbs remained. Everyone complimented Allison on the delicious cookies. She felt so happy inside. Sister Moody was right. She had a talent to share after all.

Harold B. Lee once visited Tokyo, Japan, to speak at a conference for soldiers. After the meeting, a man came up to shake his hand.
Soldier: I am not a member of the Church, but I understand that you are going to be in the Philippines in a few weeks. I’ll be there with the U.S. Seventh Fleet, and I hope to be able to tell you then that I have been baptized.
Harold: I hope so, too!
Weeks went by, and Elder Lee traveled to the Philippines to give another fireside. He noticed that the man he had met in Tokyo was sitting on the front row.
Harold: I remember you! Have you been baptized?
Soldier: Yes. I can’t wait to go home and tell my wife that I will live righteously from now on. You see, when we met in Japan, my arm was hurting me terribly. After I shook your hand, the throbbing stopped. I took my arm out of the sling. When I went back to the ship, I didn’t need any treatment. The infection was gone. I know that you had the Lord’s power to heal me.
Years later, Elder Lee traveled to Virginia to organize a new stake. The man he had healed sat on the front row with his beautiful wife. That day the man was sustained to serve in his elders quorum presidency.
In a speech to Ricks College students, President Lee told this story and taught that God can heal us, both by taking away illness and by allowing us to repent.
President Lee: There is a power beyond the sight of man that heals not only sick bodies but sick souls. The greatest miracle we see is the healing of sick souls.

My baptism was to take place in a lake the following Sunday, August 22. The weather had been hot and dry. But on Monday, August 16, a steady rain began, and the temperature dropped sharply. Friday morning I awoke with terrible tonsillitis. My whole throat was congested, and I was running a fever. I thought it would pass before Sunday.
The missionaries came on Saturday to interview me. Elder Parker, a young and very tall missionary, asked me the questions. He also agreed to baptize me. I said nothing about my illness.
The day of my baptism arrived. When I woke up I found that my throat was still the same. It was then I realized for the first time in my life what the Lord wanted from me. I said to myself, “I’ll do whatever I have to for Him. I will be baptized. Everything will be fine. The water will be warm, and my sickness will disappear after I am baptized.”
On the way to the lake I told the sisters what had been going on with me. They both looked in my mouth and said, all bundled up in their raincoats, “This is no joke. Should we move everything to a pool?”
“No, no.” I had firmly made up my mind to go ahead with our plans.
It was beautiful when we got there. The lake was like a mirror, without even a ripple. It was about a hundred meters from the changing room to the water. It had rained all week and was muddy. When I came out of the changing room, I saw Elder Parker in his white clothes walking confidently through the mud toward the lake. That was a stunning sight.
We stood in a circle and sang a hymn. We could see our breath, but we were not paying attention to the weather anymore. As I took my first step into the water, I knew I was doing the right thing. It felt warm. And when I came up out of the water, I was happy and healthy. Everyone laughed and cried. I had taken my first step on the path home. Our Heavenly Father loves us and gives us trials, expecting us to make the right decisions, to not doubt what is good.
I will remember that miraculous day for the rest of my life. It will live in my heart with the memories of my grandmother, who sowed the seed that sprouted so many years after her death

I learned this very clearly as a young sailor serving in the United States Navy.

During the Vietnam War, I was sent overseas to serve on the U.S.S. Enterprise, a nuclear aircraft carrier operating in the Tonkin Gulf, off the shores of North Vietnam. I was flown over to the Philippines to catch the ship that was, at that time, tied up at Layette Pier in Subic Bay in the Philippines where it was undergoing supply replenishment. I boarded the ship on Saturday afternoon, stowed my gear, and then reported to the officer on deck to see what I was to do. Given that it was Saturday afternoon, he just looked at me and said “well, why don’t you go ashore, spend the weekend, and report for duty on Monday.”

Early the next morning, since it was Sunday, I set out to see if I could find the Church. I wanted to attend my Sunday meetings. I walked off the ship not having an idea where I should go, but knowing that I needed to find a connection with the Church. And so, not knowing particularly what to do, I crawled up on a pier post and thought I would sit and observe and see if I could see something that might help me. I offered another silent prayer to the Lord. As an Idaho farm boy who found himself halfway around the world, I needed a spiritual lifeline, and I knew the best one was prayer. I prayed that I could somehow find a connection with the Church. I thought of my faithful parents, who I knew would be praying in my behalf. That thought gave me comfort, and a peace settled over me and I knew that things would be alright.

I had not been on the pier post very long, when all at once I saw a couple of sailors walking down the pier carrying a long plastic sack with two rows of little plastic cups in it. You can imagine my excitement! And I had this thought, “I wonder if other religions use sacrament cups like that.” The thought quickly came into my mind to follow those men and listen to their conversation. If they did not use profanity (which many sailors were prone to use), then there was a good chance they would be members of the Church. Immediately I jumped down off that post and quickly caught up with the two men, and listened to what they were saying. When I was satisfied they could be Church members, I approached them with this greeting, at the same time extending my hand to shake theirs: “Brethren, where are you going with those sacrament cups?” You should have seen the look on their faces! They lit up with excitement to discover another member of the Church. Greetings were exchanged, an invitation was extended, and off to Sunday meetings we went. I have often reflected on that experience. It was a miracle to me and an immediate answer to prayer. As I inquired of the Lord, He sent two faithful elders to help me that Sunday morning far away in the Philippine Islands.

I have come to know that the Lord can, and will, work through us to bring about His purposes and to answer prayers. A young patient I was caring for in a pediatric intensive care unit was critically ill. As his condition deteriorated, it became apparent that he needed to be rushed to surgery. It took a team of doctors, nurses, and respiratory therapists to sustain his life during transport. As we approached the door to leave the ICU, the surgeon asked if this child had been given a priesthood blessing. His parents, who were standing nearby, answered through their tears that they had wanted to, but everyone was in such a hurry, they did not dare ask. The doctor then explained that this was going to be an extremely complicated surgery. He said he needed to have his hands and mind guided to know what needed to be done to save this young life. The child’s father and a respiratory therapist gave a beautiful blessing for strength and healing. This sweet boy survived the complicated surgery and recovered to go home with his parents. Situations like this happen on a regular basis in hospitals around the world. What made this story memorable to me was this surgeon, who requested the priesthood blessing, was not a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He was not even a religious man. But his experiences had shown him that an unknown power had influenced him in the care of patients when priesthood blessings had been given. This confirmed to me that the Lord can, and will, work through us to bring about His will.

In 1996 the Nigerian men’s football team won gold at the Olympic Games held in Atlanta in the United States. As the final ended, jubilant crowds poured onto the streets of every city and town in Nigeria; this country of 200 million people was instantly transformed into a massive celebration at two o’clock in the morning! There was infectious joy, happiness, and excitement as people ate, sang, and danced. In that moment, Nigeria was united and every Nigerian was content being Nigerian.
Before the Olympics, this team faced numerous challenges. As the tournament began, their financial support ended. The team competed without proper kits, training venues, food, or laundry services.
Jerome Prevost/Getty Images
At one point, they were minutes away from being eliminated from competition, but the Nigerian team triumphed against all odds. This pivotal moment changed how they saw themselves. With newfound confidence, and with individual and team hard work and dogged determination, they unitedly ignored distractions and focused on winning. This focus earned them gold medals, and Nigerians christened them the “Dream Team.” The Dream Team at the 1996 Olympics continues to be referenced in Nigerian sports.
David Cannon/Allsport/Getty Images
Once the football team learned to ignore the many distractions facing them and focused on their goal, they succeeded beyond what they thought possible and experienced great joy. (As did the rest of us in Nigeria!)

I once had a friend who was a mountain lion hunter. He loved to saddle up his favorite horse, tie on the saddle bags, and make sure his gun was cleaned and ready for instant firing.
One day while I was visiting him, I noticed he had a full-grown hunting dog tied to one of the sheds. “Isn’t he a beauty!” I commented.
“He’s got to go,” my friend replied. “I can’t be bothered with him.”
“Why? What’s the problem?” I asked in surprise.
My lion-tracking friend explained that ever since the dog was a pup it had been trained to track lions. “He knows what I expect,” the man continued, “but the last time we were on a three-day hunt he took off after a deer and then a coyote and finally some rabbits, and was gone the best part of a full day. He knows he must stay on the trail of the lion to be one of my helpers. Our business is mountain lions, and this dog is bad for business. Now he’s for sale pretty cheap.”
I felt sorry for that beautiful, healthy, yet disobedient dog. He couldn’t stay on the path that would keep a place with his master for him.

Her life changed forever when she awoke in the Prince Charles Hospital in Brisbane with two artificial heart valves. As a patient, surprised to be alive and able to serve, Jane wandered around the hospital visiting other patients.

Jane says, “I feel a deep and abiding gratitude, what a gift all these extra days and years have been. I’ve gained significant insights to pain and patience and have become compassionate in ways that I doubt I could have grasped from any other experience.”

One Friday morning in 2013, Ojukwu M. Sesay entered a taxi from Jui to SS Camp in Freetown, Sierra Leone. As is common there, he was joining the taxi with other people already en route. The other two people in the taxi were missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. A discussion of faith and beliefs arose in the taxi. Ojukwu contributed that he believed that in the kinetic energy study of physics, faith is the potential within us, and our expressions and actions make the belief known and moving.
It was immediately after this contribution on the discussion, that one of the missionaries asked for his name, where he lives, and when he can be visited. When he answered their questions, they realized that he was not in their area for teaching. Upon reaching his drop-off point, they requested his phone number and told him that two other people would be calling him since they do not cover where he lives.
As promised, the other missionaries called and visited the following Saturday. They introduced the Church to Ojukwu and his family. He lived with his wife, children, brothers, and sisters. They were interested in the missionaries and wanted to know why they were in their family home. After they left, Ojukwu read the first lesson from the leaflet provided by the missionaries and explained it to his family.
While sharing thoughts with his wife and encouraging her to look at the truth surrounding the quotes, she became interested in the teachings. She asked him to visit the Church, so he attended the Jui Branch. Immediately after his first visit, he held a meeting with his family to explain about the Church he visited. He told them the way of worship was different from the other Pentecostal churches and his spirit found peace with the pattern of worship. The family continued to investigate and attend church services until three members of the family i.e., himself, his wife and his brother were baptized at the Jui Branch. His brother later went on a mission.
After their confirmation and obtaining a series of assignments, his wife, Ramatu Bintu Sesay, was called as the district public affair president and later as branch Primary president. He was called as the Young Men president. In 2018 there was a change in the leadership of the branch, and he was called as the first councilor of the branch presidency. He later served as the branch president of Jui Branch from 2019–2021. The family was sealed in the temple for time and all eternity in 2022.
Since February 2023, he has been the temple facility manager of the Freetown Sierra Leone Temple, which is under construction.

Sarah sat in her room playing with her dolls. She was changing them into their best clothes for a Christmas party she was hosting. Everyone was invited: Mr. Snuggles, the teddy bear; Chocolate and Caramel, the raccoon twins; Lady Juniper, the ladybug; and many of their friends.
As Sarah began to introduce her guests to each other, Mom walked into the room.
“Sarah, Dad and I were talking about what service we could do this Christmas. We thought we could give gifts to the children’s home down the road.”
“OK,” Sarah said.
“We were wondering if you would like to donate some of your toys,” Mom said. “I know that it would mean a lot to the children. They probably won’t be getting many new toys for Christmas.”
“But I don’t want to get rid of my toys! I love them all!” Sarah said.
“What about this stuffed cow?” Mom asked.
“Not Moo-Moo!”
“I’ve never seen you play with her. Are you sure you want to keep her?”
“What if I decide I want to play with her after I give her away? Then I won’t have her anymore!” Sarah said.
“The purpose of serving is to think about the needs of others before yourself,” Mom said. “When you make a sacrifice to help someone else, you are becoming more like Jesus Christ.”
“I am?” Sarah asked. “How?”
“What did Jesus do when He was on the earth?”
“He helped people.”
“Right! He spent His life serving others,” Mom said.
“So if I give away something important to me to help others, I am being like Jesus?” Sarah asked.
“Exactly,” Mom said.
Sarah knew Mom was right, but she was still a little nervous about giving up Moo-Moo.
That weekend, Sarah and Mom and Dad went to the children’s home with a big bag of gifts. As the children opened their presents, their smiles grew bigger and bigger.
One little girl picked up a box wrapped in shiny red paper. Sarah watched as the girl carefully unwrapped the present. Inside the box was the stuffed cow.
“Her name is Moo-Moo,” Sarah said to the girl. “And she loves parties.”
A smile spread across the face of the little girl. She hugged Moo-Moo tight and looked up at Sarah. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ve never had my own stuffed animal before.” The girl skipped away with her new toy.
Sarah felt happy. She imagined Jesus must have felt happy too when He helped people.
“I want to come back next Christmas,” Sarah said as she and her parents left the children’s home. “I think I have more toys I can give away next year.”

Julie B. Beck, Relief Society general president, explains that “providing for ourselves and others is evidence that we are disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ. … When [my mother-in-law] passed away suddenly last year, she left evidence of her self-reliant life. She had a current temple recommend and well-used scriptures and gospel study manuals. We lovingly divided up the pots, pans, and dishes with which she had prepared thousands of meals. She left us quilts she had made from old clothing. She believed in the old adage ‘Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.’ We saw the supply of food she had grown, preserved, and stored. Particularly touching were her little account books in which she faithfully recorded her expenditures over many years. Because she lived providently, she left some money she had saved for emergencies, and she left no debts! Most importantly, she had taught and inspired many others with the skills she had acquired during her faithful life.”2

In spring 1834, some 200 elders, known as Zion’s Camp, marched 900 miles from Kirtland, Ohio, to aid the destitute Saints driven from their homes in Jackson County by Missourians. The Missourians’ plans to attack the relief force were frustrated when a severe hailstorm drove them away.
Two days later, mob leader Colonel Sconce and other members of the mob, humbled by the fury of the storm, met with the men of Zion’s camp to learn their intentions. Joseph spoke as follows:
“I arose, and, addressing them, [related] the sufferings of the Saints in Jackson county, and also our persecutions generally … ; and that we had no intention to molest … any people, but only to administer to … our afflicted friends; and that the evil reports circulated about us were false, and got up by our enemies to procure our destruction. When I had closed a lengthy speech, the spirit of which melted them into compassion, they arose and offered me their hands, and said they would use their influence to allay the excitement which everywhere prevailed against us; and they wept when they heard of our afflictions and persecutions, and learned that our intentions were good. Accordingly they went forth among the people, and made unwearied exertions to allay the excitement.”4

Almost thirty years ago I knew a boy, even a priest, who held the authority of the Aaronic Priesthood. As the bishop, I was his quorum president. This boy, Robert, stuttered and stammered, void of control. Self-conscious, shy, fearful of himself and all others, he had an impediment of speech which was devastating to him. Never did he fulfill an assignment; never would he look another in the eye; always would he gaze downward. Then one day, through a set of unusual circumstances, he accepted an assignment to perform the priestly responsibility to baptize another.

I sat next to him in the baptistry of this sacred tabernacle. He was dressed in immaculate white, prepared for the ordinance he was to perform. I asked Robert how he felt. He gazed at the floor and stuttered almost incoherently that he felt terrible.

We both prayed fervently that he would be made equal to his task. Then the clerk read the words: “Nancy Ann McArthur will now be baptized by Robert Williams, a priest.” Robert left my side, stepped into the font, took little Nancy by the hand, and helped her into that water which cleanses human lives and provides a spiritual rebirth. He then gazed as though toward heaven and, with his right arm to the square, repeated the words “Nancy Ann McArthur, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost” (see D&C 20:73). Not once did he stammer. Not once did he stutter. Not once did he falter. A modern miracle had been witnessed.

In the dressing room, as I congratulated Robert, I expected to hear this same uninterrupted flow of speech. I was wrong. He gazed downward and stammered his reply of gratitude.

To each of you this day, I testify that when Robert acted in the authority of the Aaronic Priesthood, he spoke with power, with conviction, and with heavenly help.

Please turn to Joseph Smith-History 1:16 -17. He was only a few years younger than most of you. Remember how you felt at that age? He had been enveloped in thick darkness and felt as if he were "doomed to destruction," when ...I saw a pillar of light exactly over my head, above the brightness of the sun, which descended gradually until it fell upon me. It no sooner appeared than I found myself delivered from the enemy which held me bound. When the light rested upon me I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air. One of them spake unto me, calling me by name [Joseph] and said, pointing to the other - This is my Beloved Son. Hear Him![10]
Many times on my mission I repeated the words that painted that prophet's picture. I remember the impact on me and those I taught as I recounted Joseph's experience. I learned then, for certain, that the Holy Ghost delivers truth directly to our spirits. Each time I repeated those familiar words, I saw the picture. I knew that our Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son, Jesus, had indeed, appeared to Joseph. I saw those whom I taught feel the confirming spirit of the Holy Ghost as well. It was one of the most powerful and memorable lessons of my life. Why does this image touch me so deeply? Many of you know these feelings.

I was the healthy father of two beautiful children and the husband to a wonderful and hardworking wife. I had a good job with a stable income. Life seemed to be perfect, but my world started to fall apart when I was diagnosed with nasopharyngeal cancer, a rare type of head and neck cancer.
I was serving as a counselor to the bishop at the time, and we were holding our annual basketball tournament at the church when I began to feel very sick. I went to see the doctor, and after many lab tests, he announced that I had stage 4 nasopharyngeal cancer. I was worried and scared. I wondered if this was the end of my life and what would happen to my family if I died. The only thing I could really depend on for guidance and comfort was prayer to Heavenly Father.
After three days of constant prayer, I felt as if a soft voice whispered, “Fear not.”
From that moment on, the fear of death was no longer on my mind. Things were still difficult for me. There was a time I couldn’t swallow any food and I was too sick to sleep, but I never gave up or turned away from God—and He has helped me.
My cancer has been in remission for more than 18 years. I don’t know how long God will allow me to live, but I’m glad that I can still serve my brothers and sisters. I know that our Heavenly Father never leaves or abandons us. And if we want to receive blessings from God, we can’t leave or abandon Him.

One day when I was seventeen years old, I was washing the family car in anticipation of going on a date that evening. My father came out of the house to observe what I was doing. He criticized me to the extent that I felt as if I was doing nothing right. Finally I said something like, “Dad, get off my case. Don’t you understand this is the first time I have ever been a teenager?” He looked at me and said, “Pal, don’t you know this is the first time I have ever been a father?” I grew wiser that day because I realized we all are learning together within a family. We cannot expect our parents to be perfect any more than we can expect ourselves to be all that we hoped to be.

When I was a deacon, I loved baseball. In fact, I still do. I had a fielder’s glove inscribed with the name Mel Ott. He was the premier player of my day. My friends and I would play ball in a small alleyway behind the houses where we lived. Our playing field was cramped, but all right, provided you hit straightaway to center field. However, if you hit the ball to the right of center, disaster was at the door. Here lived Mrs. Shinas, who, from her kitchen window, would watch us play; and as soon as the ball rolled to her porch, her large dog would retrieve the ball and present it to her as she opened the door. Into her house Mrs. Shinas would return and add the ball to the many she had previously confiscated. She was our nemesis, the destroyer of our fun—even the bane of our existence. None of us had a good word for Mrs. Shinas, but we had plenty of bad words for her. None of us would speak to her, and she never spoke to us. She was hampered by a stiff leg which impaired her walking and must have caused her great pain. She and her husband had no children, lived secluded lives, and rarely came out of their house.
This private war continued for some time—perhaps two years—and then an inspired thaw melted the ice of winter and brought a springtime of good feelings to the stalemate.
One evening as I performed my daily task of watering our front lawn, holding the nozzle of the hose in the hand as was the style at that time, I noticed that Mrs. Shinas’s lawn was dry and beginning to turn brown. I honestly don’t know, brethren, what came over me, but I took a few more minutes and, with our hose, watered her lawn. I continued to do this throughout the summer, and then when autumn came I hosed her lawn free of leaves as I did ours and stacked the leaves in piles at the street’s edge to be gathered. During the entire summer I had not seen Mrs. Shinas. We boys had long since given up playing ball in the alleyway. We had run out of baseballs and had no money to buy more.
Early one evening, Mrs. Shinas’s front door opened, and she beckoned for me to jump the small fence and come to her front porch. This I did. As I approached her, she invited me into her living room, where I was asked to sit in a comfortable chair. She treated me to cookies and milk. Then she went to the kitchen and returned with a large box filled with baseballs and softballs, representing several seasons of her confiscation efforts. The filled box was presented to me. The treasure, however, was not to be found in the gift but rather in her words. I saw for the first time a smile come across the face of Mrs. Shinas, and she said, “Tommy, I want you to have these baseballs, and I want to thank you for being kind to me.” I expressed my own gratitude to her and walked from her home a better boy than when I entered. No longer were we enemies. Now we were friends. The Golden Rule had again succeeded.

Like a lot of teens, I got my first job when I was 16. The paycheck I earned from cleaning tennis courts was nothing to brag about, but I was excited to have some personal income. Because my parents covered a lot of my expenses (they bought a used car for me and my brother to share, and even paid for gas and insurance), the money from my job left over after tithing became spending money. I would spend hours after school at music stores, picking out albums by my favorite bands. An avid reader, I loved going to bookstores and would rarely leave one without a stack of novels tucked under my arm. I bought clothes and DVDs, concert tickets and guitar accessories. I loved to eat out with friends, sometimes almost every day of the week. Having money to do these things made me feel more mature and independent.
When I first started my job, my parents helped me open checking and savings accounts. I signed up for a credit card also. Though I didn’t plan to use it regularly, my parents and I thought it would be helpful to have in case of an emergency. It was more convenient to carry around a couple of cards in my wallet instead of cash and cumbersome spare change, so I switched to plastic. No more counting out bills and coins at check stands; all I had to do was key in a PIN number or show my ID and presto. I hardly had to think at all.
But not having to think much turned out not to be such a good thing. It was so easy to spend money that I began to spend more and more. Online shopping was getting popular at the time, and with a few clicks of the mouse on our home computer, I could have almost anything arrive at my door in two days. With digital music stores beginning to spring up on the Internet, buying music no longer required driving to the store or waiting for a package to arrive in the mail. All I had to do was click the “Purchase Now” button and I could be listening to a new album instantly.
Of course, there was nothing wrong with spending some of the money I earned on music or dinner with friends. But as my spending habits got worse, I began to spend money that I didn’t really even have. Several times I overdrew my checking account and had to pay a fine. My parents encouraged me to slow down my spending and work out a budget, but I didn’t take their advice seriously. Instead, if I didn’t have enough money in the bank, I began to charge purchases to my credit card and say to myself, “I’ll pay it off in a few days when my paycheck arrives. No big deal.”
It was a bigger deal than I thought. A few days turned into a few weeks, then a few weeks into months. It wasn’t long before I had empty checking and savings accounts, mounting debt, and a credit card bill that I couldn’t handle. I was stuck.
I wish I could say that was when I learned my lesson and turned things around—that I stopped overspending, paid my debts, and became wiser about handling finances. In fact, I was able to pay off my credit card debt, with plenty of help from my parents. For a while I was more responsible with my spending. But only for a while.
Having my parents bail me out, I later realized, gave me an unhealthy sense of security. Though I told myself that I needed to change my spending habits, I also felt that if I did mess up again, there would a safety net to rescue me, just as there had been the first time. And so I soon fell back into my old habits. I wasn’t making large purchases, but I never hesitated to shell out a few dollars here, a little more there—either with my checking card or with my credit card. It depressed me to know how much I spent, so I stopped checking my balances altogether. I got a raise and more hours at work and convinced myself that I was probably doing OK. After all, I wasn’t going out and spending hundreds of dollars at a time.
My experience that summer day at the sporting goods store was an unpleasant awakening. Those smaller purchases had added up, and I found myself in an even bigger mess than before.
A few years later, as I’m about to graduate from college, I think of Alma’s admonition to “learn wisdom in thy youth” (see Alma 37:35). Even though I’m on a better track now, I still wonder how much money I could have saved for a mission, college, or marriage had I learned financial wisdom when I was younger—and how many headaches I could have saved myself.
I finally figured out that buying lots of things and being overindulgent won’t make you happy, and that learning to live within your means makes all the difference. It has for me. I just wish I had figured that out sooner.

An interesting story of one such trip concerns the voyage of the ship International, which left Liverpool, England, on 25 February 1853. She carried on board a Latter-day Saint immigrant company of 425, including a number of unbaptized friends and relatives and a crew of 26.
The ship ran into violent storms, delaying the crossing and making it necessary to ration food. In four weeks, only one-third of the distance to New Orleans, Louisiana, had been covered.
Thanks to the faith and prayers of the valiant Saints, a miracle occurred: favorable winds made it possible to make up time lost. The International docked in New Orleans after a 54-day voyage across the Atlantic Ocean.
Christopher Arthur presided over the company of Latter-day Saints aboard the International. In his official report to the British Mission president, President Arthur wrote: “I am glad to inform you, that we have baptized all on board except three persons. … We can number the captain, first and second mates, with eighteen of the crew, most of whom intend going right through to the valley. … The number baptized in all is 48, since we left our native shores” (quoted in William G. Hartley, “Voyage on the Ship International,” New Era, September 1973, 9).