Gospel Story Finder

“Hey, wake up,” someone says, poking you. Groggily, you look at the clock next to your bed. It’s 6:30 a.m.? What’s going on? Wait, that’s not your clock. And this isn’t your bed. Where are you?
“Hey,” the voice says, “you’re the one who wanted to follow us around. It’s time to get the day started.”
As you peer up at the missionary standing over your bed, you finally remember what’s going on. Church magazines offered you the opportunity to follow a missionary companionship around for a day, and you jumped at the chance to see what missionary life is really like.
You just didn’t realize it would start this early.
“Hi, I’m Elder Jesse Ward, from Utah,” the tall missionary says as you sit up. “Welcome to Spain. This is my companion, Elder Pierrick Triplet.”
Elder Triplet is from France, and he isn’t learning just Spanish but English too. Despite the challenge of having to learn two languages at once, Elder Triplet is grateful to be on a mission.
“I’m a convert,” he says. “I’ve had a great change in my life, and I’d like others to have it too. A mission can be hard work, but seeing someone change his or her life is worth it.”
They’ve got your attention. You’ve always heard that a mission can be the best two years of your life. Today you get a chance to find out why.
6:41 a.m.After taking time to pray, the missionaries spend some time working out. Push-ups, sit-ups, even a little light weight lifting are the usual for Elder Ward. Breakfast follows a shower and shave. Cold cereal is a favorite.
8:07 a.m.Missionaries spend a good deal of time studying individually and as a companionship so they can obtain the word before declaring it (see D&C 11:21). After language study and personal scripture study, it’s time for companionship study using Preach My Gospel.
9:55 a.m.Missionaries dedicate a lot of time to planning, at the beginning of the day, throughout the day, and at the end of the day. They talk not just about what they’re going to do but about what each investigator needs.
Today the elders are talking about a man from France, an investigator they’re going to invite to be baptized.
“He’s worried,” Elder Triplet says. “He doesn’t feel worthy.”
“Let’s talk about repentance and how God remembers sins no more,” Elder Ward suggests after the companions think it over. “Why don’t you teach it in French to make sure he understands?”
The last thing the elders do before leaving is pray—again. This is one of many prayers they’ll offer today. Missionary work requires a lot of heavenly help. Then it’s out the door and off to the bus stop in a hurry.
11:09 a.m. Missionaries talk to anyone anywhere anytime about the gospel, because they never know who is going to be interested. While waiting for the bus, the missionaries chat with a young man and give him a pamphlet with their phone number on it.
11:21 a.m. A 10-minute bus ride and a short walk later, the missionaries arrive at a rented meetinghouse at the same time as their investigator. The meeting begins well, but the investigator’s concerns push the 45-minute lesson they had planned on to more than an hour.
“That was the most frustrating lesson I’ve ever been in,” Elder Triplet says afterward. “He likes the Church. He thinks it’s true. He wants to pay tithing. But he doesn’t believe he needs to be baptized again. He was a little argumentative.”
“He’s a great guy,” Elder Ward says, shaking his head. “Maybe he’ll be ready to talk about baptism next time.”
2:06 p.m. The missionaries jump on another bus, this time to El Casco, the historic quarter of Toledo, Spain. They stop by an investigator’s business to invite him to an activity that night.
“You can get lost in here really quick if you aren’t paying attention,” Elder Ward says of the maze of narrow streets lined with buildings that seem to lean over those walking below.
2:24 p.m. While navigating the tight streets, the missionaries stop to offer help to a woman carrying a heavy load. They spend a moment explaining who they are and what they do, but the woman isn’t interested.
2:47 p.m. It’s siesta time in Spain, so the missionaries catch a bus back to their apartment, or piso, for lunch. “Everything shuts down between 2:00 and 4:00 p.m.,” Elder Ward explains. “Some people get mad if you knock on their doors.”
“This is chorizo, or sausage,” Elder Triplet says poking at lunch. “It’s typical food. We eat a lot of noodles and chorizo because it’s cheap and easy to make.”
“The mission is great preparation for marriage,” Elder Ward laughs as he mixes his Kool-Aid. “You have to learn to get along, cook, clean, do laundry, budget, and take care of yourself.”
4:24 p.m. Back in El Casco, the missionaries meet with a member of the mission presidency about current activation efforts.
“This is a great area,” says Elder Ward, who explains that Church attendance has gone from about 15 to 80 members each week because one family set the example of fellowshipping.
4:59 p.m. The elders end up with a little unexpected free time on their hands, but missionaries are used to doing some planning on the fly. Their backup plan was to do some tracting.
5:42 p.m. In El Casco, where so many people live above street level, knocking on doors often means carrying on conversations with people on their balconies. And even in historic tourist towns, a missionary has to look out for dogs.
The elders have some success: “We found some great people,” Elder Ward says. “There were some youth from Paraguay. They invited us back tomorrow.” And some failure: “We had a half-hour conversation with one man,” Elder Triplet says. “It was like talking to a wall.”
7:45 p.m. Two buses later the elders make it to the activity they had planned with the sister missionaries who work in the same city, Sister Kathleen Bonifay and Sister Brittany Hofman.
The people they were expecting to come didn’t. “That’s the way it goes sometimes,” Elder Ward says. But after a little footwork, the missionaries are able to gather a handful of other investigators living nearby. After a hymn and a video, you can feel the influence of the Holy Ghost as the missionaries bear testimony of the Book of Mormon as another witness of Jesus Christ. The activity is a success.
“The Lord takes care of you when you put forth your best planning and best effort,” says Sister Bonifay.
9:13 p.m. After a hike to the bus stop, the elders and sisters have made it back to their respective apartments, where they’ll call their leaders, review the day and their long-range plans, and make plans for the next day.
“Well, this is what we do,” Elder Ward tells you. “It doesn’t change much.”
Elder Triplet laughs. “We are the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.”
Things didn’t go exactly as the elders had planned, but the day went well anyway. They made some good contacts, pulled off a powerful activity, bore testimony of Christ, and did their best to follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost.
“I’ve heard people say these are the best two years of their lives,” Elder Triplet says. “The two years are great, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re the best 730 days of my life. There are some days I thought would never end. But I have loved being a missionary.”
Elder Ward agrees. He has mixed emotions about leaving. “I always thought I’d be excited to go home,” he says. “But I see life differently now. I love my life. I’m a missionary. I’m speaking to people about Christ every day. Leaving will be bittersweet.”
You’ve enjoyed getting a taste of missionary work as well. As exciting as it is, missionary work can be exhausting. Now it’s time to get some rest and prepare yourself for your day as a missionary. It has a way of coming faster than you think.

One year in college, I was taking a test when my neck began to hurt. The pain didn’t go away when the tension of the test had passed. I consulted with doctors and therapists and tried a variety of treatments, but still the pain continued. Over the next year, as I struggled to cope with this pain, I also struggled to increase my faith. I spent much time in prayer, I studied the scriptures, and I asked for priesthood blessings. I felt that if I just had enough faith, I would be healed.
Jesus Christ healed the sick, the blind, the lame, the leprous—“according to [their] faith” (Matthew 9:29). I knew He had the power to heal me as He had so many others during His mortal life. I concluded, therefore, that only my lack of faith kept me from being healed, so I redoubled my efforts. While I continued with physical therapy, I prayed and fasted and studied and believed. Yet my pain persisted.
The scriptures teach us that with faith we can work miracles (see Matthew 17:20), yet I could not be relieved of this minor suffering. Where was the power in my faith? Finally, I quietly accepted my situation, found ways to cope with my discomfort, and became content to save full understanding of faith and healing for a future time.

The ward also supports Sesame Counselling Services, a charity who specialise in providing discounted counselling services that people so desperately need, but cannot afford. When Sesame Counselling was unable to use their regular meeting place, a member who was aware of this asked the Bishop if they could help. Bishop Hayes enthusiastically arranged a visit to the chapel to showcase the space. The Board of Trustees attended and the head of the board was heard saying “Isn’t there a restful atmosphere here?” and “There’s a nice atmosphere here, a feeling of safety.”

I recently heard Jenny’s story. She is a returned missionary whose parents divorced while she was serving her mission. She told how the thought of returning home “scared [her] to death.” But at the end of her mission to Italy, as she stopped in the mission home on her way home to the United States, a certain woman, the mission president’s wife, tenderly ministered to her simply by brushing her hair.
Years later, another certain woman, Terry—a stake Relief Society president and disciple of Jesus Christ—blessed Jenny’s life when Jenny was called as a ward Relief Society president. At that time, Jenny was working on her dissertation for her doctoral degree. Not only did Terry serve as a mentor to Jenny as a leader, but she also sat with her for 10 hours at the hospital when Jenny received the alarming diagnosis of leukemia. Terry visited the hospital and drove Jenny to appointments. Jenny confessed, “I think I may have thrown up several times in her car.”
Despite her illness, Jenny continued to serve valiantly as the ward Relief Society president. Even in her extremity, she made phone calls and sent texts and emails from her bed, and she invited sisters to come see her. She mailed cards and notes to people, loving her sisters from a distance. When her ward requested a photograph of her presidency for their ward history, this is what they got. Because Jenny is a certain woman herself, she invited all to share others’ burdens, including her own.
As a certain woman, Jenny testified: “Not only are we here to save others but to save ourselves. And that salvation comes from partnering with Jesus Christ, from understanding His grace and His Atonement and His feelings of love for the women of the Church. That happens through things as simple as brushing someone’s hair; sending a note with an inspired, clear, revelatory message of hope and grace; or allowing women to serve us.”

May I share just one contemporary example of both the challenge and blessings that our “calls to serve” can bring. A wonderful sister recently said to a dear friend: “I want to tell you about the moment I ceased resenting my husband’s time and sacrifice as a bishop. It had seemed uncanny how an ‘emergency’ would arise with a ward member just when he and I were about to go out to do something special together.
“One day I poured out my frustration, and my husband agreed we should guarantee, in addition to Monday nights, one additional night a week just for us. Well, the first ‘date night’ came, and we were about to get into the car for an evening together when the telephone rang.
“‘This is a test,’ I smiled at him. The telephone kept ringing. ‘Remember our agreement. Remember our date. Remember me. Let the phone ring.’ In the end I wasn’t smiling.
“My poor husband looked trapped between me and a ringing telephone. I really did know that his highest loyalty was to me, and I knew he wanted that evening as much as I did. But he seemed paralyzed by the sound of that telephone.
“‘I’d better at least check,’ he said with sad eyes. ‘It is probably nothing at all.’
“‘If you do, our date is ruined,’ I cried. ‘I just know it.’
“He squeezed my hand and said, ‘Be right back,’ and he dashed in to pick up the telephone.
“Well, when my husband didn’t return to the car immediately, I knew what was happening. I got out of the car, went into the house, and went to bed. The next morning he spoke a quiet apology, I spoke an even quieter acceptance, and that was the end of it.
“Or so I thought. I found the event still bothering me several weeks later. I wasn’t blaming my husband, but I was disappointed nevertheless. The memory was still fresh when I came upon a woman in the ward I scarcely knew. Very hesitantly, she asked for the opportunity to talk. She then told of becoming infatuated with another man, who seemed to bring excitement into her life of drudgery, she with a husband who worked full-time and carried a full load of classes at the university. Their apartment was confining. She had small children who were often demanding, noisy, and exhausting. She said: ‘I was sorely tempted to leave what I saw as my wretched state and just go with this man. My situation was such that I felt I deserved better than what I had. My rationalization persuaded me to think I could walk away from my husband, my children, my temple covenants, and my Church and find happiness with a stranger.’
“She said: ‘The plan was set; the time for my escape was agreed upon. Yet, as if in a last gasp of sanity, my conscience told me to call your husband, my bishop. I say “conscience,” but I know that was a spiritual prompting directly from heaven. Almost against my will, I called. The telephone rang and rang and rang. Such was the state of my mind that I actually thought, “If the bishop doesn’t answer, that will be a sign I should go through with my plan.” The phone kept ringing, and I was about to hang up and walk straight into destruction when suddenly I heard your husband’s voice. It penetrated my soul like lightning. Suddenly I heard myself sobbing, saying, “Bishop, is that you? I am in trouble. I need help.” Your husband came with help, and I am safe today because he answered that telephone.
“‘I look back and realize I was tired and foolish and vulnerable. I love my husband and my children with all my heart. I can’t imagine the tragedy my life would be without them. These are still demanding times for our family. I know everyone has them. But we have addressed some of these issues, and things are looking brighter. They always do eventually.’ Then she said: ‘I don’t know you well, but I wish to thank you for supporting your husband in his calling. I don’t know what the cost for such service has been to you or to your children, but if on a difficult day there is a particularly personal cost, please know how eternally grateful I will be for the sacrifice people like you make to help rescue people like me.’”

I woke up one morning feeling overwhelmed. My duties as a parent felt heavy, and I was very aware of my weaknesses. There seemed to be a large gap between how I imagined I’d be as a parent and how I really am.
I knelt to pray and told Heavenly Father how much I love Him. I told Him how much I love the children He has blessed our family with. And I began telling Him how I was trying to be a good parent, but felt like I wasn’t doing a good enough job. As I prayed, I thought about how much better my children would be if God just raised them Himself.
Then an image came to mind. I pictured my children sweeping the kitchen floor. This is one of many jobs they are assigned to do to help our family. Sometimes watching them do it makes me cringe because they are still learning and miss lots of spots. But I let them do it, as well as other daily chores, because I have a greater vision for them. I know that through all of this imperfect practice, they will learn and grow. Eventually, they will be able to do it just as quickly and effectively as I can. That vision of them becoming responsible and independent is much more rewarding than if I were to do everything myself. I’m not raising children for short-term success—I’m trying to help them be successful in the long run.
And I wondered if perhaps something like this is true for our heavenly parents too. Heavenly Father knows we can’t do a perfect job of being parents. Some things we do probably make Him cringe, but He allows it because He knows we are learning and growing. He has the ultimate long-term perspective. He envisions us someday becoming a parent like Him, able to love completely, teach effectively, and model perfectly. As we fumble, He knows we are developing qualities like patience and charity. And so, in His wisdom, He lets us work and fail and try again.
How I wish I could be a perfect parent already! Like Joseph Smith wrote, I often find myself falling “into many foolish errors” (Joseph Smith—History 1:28). But I find comfort in knowing that God understands my heart, which means He knows I am trying to be teachable. I feel joy when my children ask, “How can I do this better?” and seem to want to improve. At least I can be that way for Heavenly Father.
As all of these thoughts played through my mind, I had one more moment of discouragement. “But what if my parenting mistakes hurt my children?” I asked. “I don’t want to hold them back, even if I become something wonderful in the process.”
Again, the image of my children’s cleaning came to mind. After my daughter earnestly tries to mop the floor and then hurries off to play or finish another task, I usually wash the remaining sticky spots. And I thought of the infinite mercy and power of Jesus Christ, whose Atonement covers every one of life’s sticky situations. His grace makes up for my shortcomings as a parent, just as His grace makes up for the pains my children suffer because of my shortcomings. In a way that none of us can comprehend, His Atonement can heal all of it.
I take great comfort in the personal revelation I received that day. I felt the Spirit teach me that my best efforts, in partnership with the Lord, are enough. I know that Heavenly Father will continue working in the lives of my children, little by little, to perfectly do what I so imperfectly do. With His help, my children can someday shine in their own right, just as brightly as if Heavenly Father had raised them the first time. Except His plan also manages to change me in the process—sanctifying and molding me to become more like Him. How great the wisdom of our God!

Photograph by Raul Sandoval
It’s 4:00 a.m. in Santo Domingo, the Dominican Republic, and Teddy Reyes is already up and working. He has a lot to do today to maintain his booming business. He begins slicing tomatoes and bread. Then he makes his special sauce.
By 6:00 a.m., two employees arrive to help him, and preparations speed up. By 8:00 a.m., they have made 300 sandwiches, wrapped individually in plastic wrap and loaded in bags. Six more employees show up, and the whole crew goes out to sell.
By 9:00 a.m., all but a few sandwiches—three or four that Teddy saved to feed his team—have been sold.
Business is good for Teddy. But things haven’t always been easy. In fact, for the past five years, he hasn’t been able to find steady work in his chosen profession as a lawyer.
So how did Teddy make the switch from counseling clients to selling sandwiches? It took a lot of hard work, of course, but it also took a careful application of principles he learned in classes offered through the Church’s Self-Reliance Services initiative.
Five years ago, life for Teddy looked amazing. He had a good job as a lawyer, he had recently gotten married, and he had baptized his wife. “But we had some challenges,” he says, “and I lost my job.”
For the next four years Teddy struggled to find work. “There was a lot of work I could do, but no one wanted to pay me. I tried starting different jobs on my own, but that didn’t work.”
His wife, Stephany, had a good job, but her salary alone couldn’t cover the bills. Soon the couple had a child. They were elated, but their finances grew tighter. They lost their house, had to sell their car, and used up all their savings. Eventually they had to move into a small house owned by Stephany’s mother.
But Teddy didn’t give up. Soon an unexpected opportunity presented itself.
After years of struggling, Teddy knew it was time for a change.
“I decided to take the Church’s self-reliance courses,” he says. “I had heard about them but always thought they weren’t for me. I thought they were just about doing things on your own. The classes were marvelous.”
First, Teddy joined a Personal Finances group. Then he joined a Starting and Growing My Business group. Group classes helped Teddy with his business knowledge but also helped him develop spiritually.
“I decided to do everything they taught,” he says, “and my finances changed immediately. I started paying a full tithe, praying daily, studying the scriptures, and exercising faith. And things changed—I started to save money and to keep the Sabbath day holy. Every principle blessed me.”
In his Starting and Growing My Business group, Teddy learned how to identify a potential product that might benefit customers where he lives. As he evaluated what people were looking for, the inspiration started to flow. In his area, people liked fresh sandwiches, but they also liked to have them made to order—and delivered.
“Many restaurants have a special sauce that makes their food stand out,” Teddy says. “So I developed my own sandwich special sauce!”
On the day he launched his business, Teddy made 30 sandwiches.
“Thirty minutes later, I was back home,” he says. “My wife became concerned when she found me on the couch. She asked me what I was doing home already—wasn’t I supposed to be selling sandwiches? I had already sold all of them!”
Over the next few weeks, Teddy contacted local businesses and schools. Many were eager to buy his sandwiches, and his business began growing. He learned quickly how to take care of fresh vegetables so that they last. He also knows exactly how long his special sauce will keep. He orders and picks up bread each evening. He buys discounted vegetables on Saturdays, which cost less but will still be good on Monday.
Soon he was receiving orders for specific types of sandwiches and even large numbers for special occasions. He needed help, so he began hiring employees.
By creating positive relationships with local schools and businesses, Teddy created an active, consistent clientele. Within four months, he had eight employees and was selling 300 sandwiches a day, five days a week. His sales team was so efficient that they sold every sandwich even during the summer when the schools were closed. Now Teddy is ready to expand again.
Because he took the self-reliance classes, he was inspired to come up with the idea of the sandwich business. “Because of this guidance from the Church and the blessings I have received,” he says, “I have a very strong testimony of the Church and Jesus Christ.”

It was an overcast morning in December 1973, but the weather did not reflect my mood. Standing on the deck of a cargo vessel with my parents and two younger siblings, I was in high spirits as we began to pull away from our small South Pacific island. The ship was the Uluilakeba, bound for Suva, the capital of the Fiji Islands.
For a 12-year-old boy from the outer island of Ono-i-Lau, a trip to the big city was no everyday experience. Along with my parents and two of my siblings, I had eagerly awaited this day. The five of us were traveling to Suva to be baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
At long last, after we had spent nearly two years planning and preparing, the day had finally come, and we stood aboard the Uluilakeba. Energy was thick in the air as we crowded on with the other passengers. Hope and excitement filled our hearts as we waited to depart on our journey.
The ship left the dock at approximately 8:00 a.m. on Monday, 10 December 1973. With all the emotions of that day, I hardly noticed the gusty winds and threatening clouds that loomed ahead. As the boat crawled into the open sea, however, the weather worsened. Soon forecasts came in of an approaching tropical storm. Despite the warnings, our captain was confident of a safe voyage. We continued onward, while around us the sea steadily grew fiercer and the rain fell harder. Before long all passengers were instructed to take shelter inside, while the crew navigated the rough waters.
The captain was a relative of my father, and he gave us his personal cabin to rest in while we endured the storm. There we huddled together as a family and waited. In spite of the now heavy rocking of the ship, after a few minutes, my brother and sister and I fell asleep.
After what seemed only an instant to me, we were awakened by my mother’s scream. Water was now coming in through a small porthole. Sitting up, I noticed that my father was not with us, and thinking he must have gone on deck, I left my mother and two siblings. Climbing up to the deck was quite difficult, although in my panic I did not realize why. I did not understand that the ship had taken too much water and was sinking. Just as I reached the deck, the Uluilakeba began to capsize, and I was plunged into angry waters.
My only instinct was for survival. Desperately I swam with all my strength to stay on top of the monstrous waves. Within a few minutes, I caught sight of an older man holding fast to two floating bags of coconuts. Managing to swim to him, I pleaded for a bag, and he mercifully gave me one. I took hold of the bag and clung to it for my life.
Minutes passed, and suddenly I spotted my mother. Seeing me as well, she swam over and we embraced. With words I will never forget, she told me to hold on to that bag no matter what, for it would save my life. Then, after kissing my cheek, she left me to search for my brother and sister. That was the last I ever saw of my mother.
As the storm continued to rage, I did not think about what had happened. I only fought to stay above the waves. Bobbing up and down in the sea, I could see many other people, but I could not find my family.
The hours stretched on like a terrible dream. Soon night fell, and we swam on in the darkness. After what seemed like forever, the sun rose again, and I held on through another day and another night. Finally, around 5:00 in the afternoon on Wednesday, a rescue boat discovered us.
More than two full days had passed. Of the approximately 120 passengers who had boarded the doomed ship, 35 were found alive in the water. We were taken to Suva and admitted to the hospital. There, I learned the details of what had happened. Less than four hours after leaving the dock, we had been struck by Cyclone Lottie, a short-lived Pacific storm. The Uluilakeba was never found. I also learned that of the five members of my family who had been aboard, I was the only survivor. My family’s plans to be baptized into the Church had sunk in the depths of the ocean.

Of course there are many different kinds of traps that wear out the lives, wipe out the courage, exhaust the hope, and destroy the happiness of men and women. I recently attended a funeral for a friend of mine who died at age 58 with lung cancer. He had been trapped by nicotine. This man had once been a faithful member of the Church. And then he had been attracted by some cigarette bait, the danger of which did not seem to him very serious at first. But once established, the nicotine habit kept calling for the amount to be increased. After a few years he had become a chain smoker. As the amount of nicotine grew larger, my friend’s taste bud became impaired. As his appetite deteriorated, his work load had to be cut to correspond to his decreased vigor. Soon he wasn’t feeling very well. Over a period of months his family physician didn’t seem to be able to help much, and he was finally sent to a specialized medical clinic in San Diego. They told him that he must quit smoking immediately and get back to regular vigorous work in an attempt to recover his appetite and normal body functions. But he couldn’t get rid of nicotine’s trap that had fastened itself to him.
If we could look into the lives of many of the people living in this great free land of America, of which the eagle is the emblem, we would find that many are dragging toward their graves the galling, wearisome traps of alcohol, immorality, ignorance, and disobedience to God. These dangerous traps are usually concealed under some attractive bait to draw the attention of the intended victim. But when they are touched off by being stepped on, they snap shut on whoever puts himself in their range.
One good way to catch a mouse is to put a little cheese on the tongue of the trap. The mouse will be very anxious to get the cheese, but if he gets the cheese he must also take the trap.
The dictionary says that a trap is a device set to capture, defeat, confound, or ensnare. Think how many people are caught in this trap of mediocrity. In earlier days every man was his own master. The philosophy of going the second mile, of doing more than we were paid for, was popular. Now a well-meaning government sets out the snares of unemployment insurance, minimum wages, and paid vacations. We have a certain kind of tenure where we cannot be fired, either for our sloth or disloyalty. The prizes for excellence have been done away with and the government puts the cheese on the trap labeled maximum pay for minimum effort. In some cases it also gives out a near maximum pay for no effort at all.
Human activities of which we formerly would have been ashamed are now perfectly honorable, and we satisfy our consciences by merely saying, “Everyone’s doing it.” Different groups are trying to outdo each other in getting the most from the government while giving the least. So many people have lost the spirit of old-time excellence, and instead of maintaining the vigorous, enthusiastic superiority, we settle down to the low level of average.
Most people accept average as being a respectable objective. However, the dictionary says that average is halfway between something and nothing. When one is average he is mediocre, which means to be in the middle. When he is average he is as close to the bottom as he is to the top. He may have in his program as much of failure as he does of success. If one who is average desires to give himself a compliment, he might either say that he is the best of the worst or he is the worst of the best.
No matter what failure or sin he may want to participate in, he may find ample grounds for saying, “Everybody’s doing it.” Our great crime waves are setting millions of traps. We might say to ourselves that everybody steals from his employer, so why shouldn’t we? Millions of people break the Ten Commandments, so why shouldn’t we? There are millions who lie and steal and cheat. In marriages there are about as many miserable failures as there are outstanding successes. So we pick out our favorite sin and then justify ourselves by saying, “I’m no worse than the average.”
Recently a man was discussing his problems with a marriage counselor. He had about every problem of immorality, alcoholism, nicotine addiction, self-induced mental illness, and unemployment. But he justified himself by saying, “Everyone has his little problems.” But this man had traps, not only on his feet, but on his heart, his personality, and his ambition.
We sometimes think that it is just too difficult to live the religion of Christ and be honest, faithful, and hardworking with lives filled with excellence. We sometimes delude ourselves into thinking that it is more fun to be immoral, lazy, and live on some kind of government or community handout. Everyone ought to be a taxpayer and pay his own share of the nation’s upkeep, but we have our foot in the trap of our own government support. We also carry the additional burden of a large government organization, hired at our expense, to pay us back our own money. Think what would happen if we all took our feet out of the traps and gave ourselves the great power and ambition of free, industrious, self-supporting, and self-sustaining citizenship.
The great American eagle is a symbol of power, courage, intelligence, and responsibility. With these qualities of freedom and opportunity he becomes an inspiring symbol for us to follow. But with a heavy steel trap snapped onto his festering, broken foot, he soon has the heart taken out of him and may become a vegetable likely to die of discouragement.
I would like to paint for consideration three word pictures that may be suitable to hang on the walls of our minds. The first is the picture of a beautiful American eagle, the symbol of power and courage, the emblem of freedom, with a vicious steel trap dangling from his broken, swollen, festering leg.
The second is a picture of a great human being who has allowed himself to be trapped by sin, one who has been pitted and pocked by the evil which he himself has initiated. The picture may show him to be unfaithful, disobedient to God, and poisoned in his principles. He is tortured by guilt, worn out by discouragement and despair, and he drags himself toward eternity with an accumulation of Satan’s traps still punishing his fretful, fearful soul.
The third picture is one of ourselves. Each of us is a child of God, formed in God’s image and endowed with his attributes, heir to his kingdom, with an understanding of our own eternal potentialities. There is everything in knowing our origin and destiny and in constantly reaffirming them in our lives. We are the offspring of divinity. We have inherited the creator’s wisdom and power. We should cling to our inheritance. We should think of ourselves as children of omnipotence. We should never let the thought escape us, even for a moment. We should keep our feet out of the traps, and we should never let evil destroy this inspiring picture of ourselves.

After the discussion, Mother began to read the books they left and to pray about what she should do. It wasn’t long until she decided to be baptized. She was worried though about telling my grandmother.
Finally, however, Mom got the courage to call Grandma on the phone and to tell her that she was going to be baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
There was an empty, cold silence on the other end of the line. At last my grandmother said, “I’m heartsick and disappointed in you,” and then she hung up the receiver.
It was a long time before Grandma would talk to any of us on the phone or answer our letters; so you can imagine how happy my mother was when Grandma called one day and said, “I’ve been thinking about your baptism and I’ve decided that it’s all right for you to be a Mormon, dear, as long as you’re happy.” And Mom really was happy.

“I was born in China,” Angel explains. “There was a one-child policy at the time, and girls were not always wanted. When I was born, the doctors said I would have health problems. They recommended that my life be terminated.” Angel’s parents were repulsed by such a suggestion and rushed their firstborn child to the safety of their home. The doctor’s ominous prediction proved false. Angel grew up strong and healthy. When she was six, her family emigrated to Canada. Today, Angel has one younger brother and three younger sisters.
Angel’s family has supported her since before she was born.

This was well illustrated in my father’s patriarchal blessing. He was told in his blessing that he would be blessed with “many beautiful daughters.” He and my mother became the parents of five sons. There were no daughters born to them, but of course they treated the wives of their sons as daughters. This last summer when we had a family reunion, I saw my father’s granddaughters moving about tending to the food and ministering to the young children and the elderly, and the realization came to me that father’s blessing had been literally fulfilled; he has, indeed, many beautiful daughters. The patriarch who gave my father his blessing had spiritual vision to see beyond this life. There was a disappearance of the dividing line between time and eternity.

The assignment to the Huntsville Second Ward road show committee was a challenging one: In just a few weeks, put on a great road show. And don’t spend a lot of money doing it.
“Our total budget consisted of $20 to $30,” said Becky Worthington, who was called as ward road show specialist.
It seemed like an impossible assignment. Costumes can cost a lot. Lumber and hardware for sets can cost a lot. Even tempera for painting cardboard can cost a lot. Some wards spend $30 or more just for a cast party.
“But we knew that if the youth of the ward got involved, they could make it work,” Sister Worthington said. She called a meeting to discuss the road show theme, “Future Fantasy.”
Someone suggested that the story take place in a city underneath the sea, and the idea caught on quickly.
“We could use strips of old sheets to look like waves.”
“At the space museum they’ve got a light that shines through water so you see waves projected on the wall. Maybe we could do that.”
“You could have a sea horse and an octopus.”
“We still need a plot. What’s the conflict?”
“How about pollution?”
“You could wear slime suits or something like that.”
“Here comes the slime! You could run off all the Primary kids with that.”
Sister Worthington had to whistle to get everyone to stop talking and pay attention.
“Okay. We’ve got some good ideas for the script. We know who the characters will be. Now let’s talk about costumes. We’ve only got $20 to spend.”
After more discussion, the group dismissed. But based on their ideas, costume making began right away. And by the time the script was finished and rehearsals were underway, costumes were ready. A Chicken of the Sea wore scuba fins, goggles, and a beak made of cardboard. Starfish dressed like movie stars and carried sunglasses with paper stars pasted on them. Girls with cardboard oyster shell hats carried white balloons for pearls. Cast members dressed like cowboys rode brooms with poster board sea horses taped on them. A fish net and some shells, borrowed from members who used to live in Hawaii, were pinned to curtains as a backdrop.
But perhaps most ingenious of all were the octopus costumes, made from black plastic trash bags and paper egg cartons.
“Everyone helped out and donated paper, fabric, paint, tape, and time,” Sister Worthington said. “But mostly the costumes were made out of things we had on hand. We tried to keep it simple. You can do a lot with a little if you think and plan.”
When the stake road shows were presented, the Second Ward won a superior rating, an award for best actor, and the award for best costumes as well. And the price tag? Just 23 dollars and 50 cents.

Two of the blessings that a senior priesthood companion can give are trust and an example of caring. I saw that when my son was given a home teaching companion who had vastly more priesthood experience than he did. His senior companion had been a mission president twice and had served in other leadership positions.

Before they were to visit one of their assigned families, that seasoned priesthood leader asked to visit my son in our home beforehand. They allowed me to listen. The senior companion opened with prayer, asking for help. Then he said something like this to my son: “I think we should teach a lesson that will sound to this family like a call to repentance. I think they won’t take it very well from me. I think they would take the message better from you. How do you feel about that?”

I remember the terror in my son’s eyes. I can still feel the happiness of that moment when my son accepted the trust.

It was not by accident that the bishop put that companionship together. It was by careful preparation that the senior companion had learned about the feelings of that family they were about to teach. It was by inspiration that he felt to step back, to trust an inexperienced youth to call older children of God to repentance and to safety.

I don’t know the outcome of their visit, but I do know that a bishop, a Melchizedek Priesthood holder, and the Lord were preparing a boy to be a priesthood man and someday a bishop.

I remember the occasion of more than fifty years ago when, as a missionary, I was speaking in an open-air meeting in Hyde Park, London. As I was presenting my message, a heckler interrupted to say, “Why don’t you stay with the doctrine of the Bible which says in John (4:24), ‘God is a Spirit’?”
I opened my Bible to the verse he had quoted and read to him the entire verse:
“God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.”
I said, “Of course God is a spirit, and so are you, in the combination of spirit and body that makes of you a living being, and so am I.”
Each of us is a dual being of spiritual entity and physical entity. All know of the reality of death when the body dies, and each of us also knows that the spirit lives on as an individual entity and that at some time, under the divine plan made possible by the sacrifice of the Son of God, there will be a reunion of spirit and body. Jesus’ declaration that God is a spirit no more denies that he has a body than does the statement that I am a spirit while also having a body.
I do not equate my body with His in its refinement, in its capacity, in its beauty and radiance. His is eternal. Mine is mortal. But that only increases my reverence for Him. I worship Him “in spirit and in truth.” I look to Him as my strength. I pray to Him for wisdom beyond my own. I seek to love Him with all my heart, might, mind, and strength. His wisdom is greater than the wisdom of all men. His power is greater than the power of nature, for He is the Creator Omnipotent. His love is greater than the love of any other, for His love encompasses all of His children, and it is His work and His glory to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of His sons and daughters of all generations (see Moses 1:39).
He “so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16).
This is the Almighty of whom I stand in awe and reverence. It is He to whom I look in fear and trembling. It is He whom I worship and unto whom I give honor and praise and glory. He is my Heavenly Father, who has invited me to come unto Him in prayer, to speak with Him, with the promised assurance that He will hear and respond.

As to what extent that difference is, let me quote to you a letter. It was written a few months ago by a person who had a friend who thought enough of him to do exactly what we have been talking about. That is, the writer is a convert to the Church. He had a friend who brought him the gospel of Jesus Christ.

A few years ago, after this person became a member of the Church and received the priesthood, he took a girl to the temple. He was married for time and eternity. A few months ago a terrible tragedy struck. His wife died suddenly. There was no warning. This is the letter that he wrote while in the depths of his sorrow. He has given me permission to share this with you.

I am so miserable and lonely. I loved her so much, and the separation is so painful. I know the gospel is true. I know she is alive and working on her new assignment, but I do not find as much comfort as I thought I would.

I see good in all this. I see that my character can be strengthened. I see that my testimony has increased. I am grateful that I am a Latter-day Saint. I am appreciative that I have a knowledge of the truth and that I hold the priesthood.

If I did not have my testimony or my temple marriage, life would be so cumbersome. But the gospel is true, God lives, and Jesus the Christ, his Son, lives. Because he lives, she lives; and I will live. Because of my priesthood and the sealing powers of that priesthood, we will be reunited. That I know with a certainty tested in the flames of sorrow. But I miss the girl, my sweetheart. We were one, and half of me is beyond the veil.

I am Brooke Ellis. When I was six, my dad went over to meet the neighbors, who were just moving in. They had a minivan, and it was filled with kids. He noticed that there was a girl who was just about my age. Her name was Clarissa Shinn. He brought me over to meet her. At first we were kind of shy with each other. But one day while my mom was still at Girls Camp with the Young Women, Clarissa and I were running over to my house and I glanced down and saw something gold and green on her finger. I stopped and so did she, and I noticed it was a CTR ring. I said, “Clarissa, are you LDS?” She said, “Yeah.” I told her that I was, too. I later found out when my mom got home that she had been fasting and praying for a girl my age who was also a Latter-day Saint to move into one of the three houses that were empty in our block. Clarissa and I are still great friends, and I know that Heavenly Father loves me and answers prayers.
Clarissa Shinn and Brooke Ellis, ages 9 and 10West Lafayette, Indiana

The two eagles gulped altitude with their broad, golden wings until the cliff line was far below them. Then they closed their wings and dropped out of the sky, spinning downward at a wind-warping speed of almost 200 miles per hour. Just as the juniper and sagebrush rushed up to crush them, they spun the world on end with a flick of their seven-foot wings and shot upward again. Spiraling up on a thermal, they banked away from each other and were soon a valley apart. Then, pivoting in midair, they rushed together like two warring biplanes, their wingbeats cracking echoes off the cliff face. Just inches short of disaster they casually palmed the air aside and brushed feathers as they blasted past each other. They flashed together again, flipping on their backs and displaying their talons in mock combat. They soared and dived, playing the wind like a violin, spinning gravity like a yo-yo. One moment they were sailing ships, running with the breeze or tacking against it. The next they were jet fighters, dive-bombing their shadows. They were more free in their ocean of air than any fish in water or any man on land.
But one man on the land watched them—with his eyes hardly comprehending, with his camera clicking like a telegraph, and long afterward with a notebook and pencil, remembering. Kent Keller, of Orem, Utah, had seen golden eagle courtship flights before, but like any reasonable person, he could only fully believe it when he was seeing it.

Last year during school I didn’t have the most pleasant experience. I started to feel overwhelmed with all of my schoolwork, and I started to get depressed. I stopped caring, I didn’t go to class, and I didn’t do my homework or use my time wisely to get back on track. I didn’t want to face my problems by admitting that I was struggling.
It was at a youth conference that I finally decided to address my issues. For the first time in months, I was finally able to feel the Spirit again. That was because each morning and night I took the time to be completely honest with both myself and my Father in Heaven about how I was really doing, through personal prayer and scripture study. This helped me to narrow down all the issues in my life that I could change.
Whether it was spending too much time on my phone or binge-watching the latest popular streaming TV series, I identified my biggest distractions and was able to truly focus on what matters most in life. As I continued to truthfully speak with Heavenly Father about my hardships, I felt like my honesty with God and myself gradually helped me develop more integrity. I began to act in faith and put forth the effort to work through my struggles.
I have since been able to better focus my time and efforts on worthy causes, and this has made such a big difference in my life. My struggles with depression and motivation have not ceased, but now I find peace and solace during them as I continue to read my scriptures and pray daily with real intent. I’m starting to see my issues with more of an eternal perspective. I can now say that my weaknesses have started to become strengths (see Ether 12:27).
As I’ve acted fervently upon promptings and stayed honest with myself, my Heavenly Father, and my Savior, I have seen the blessings of integrity manifested greatly in my life.

The Three Princes In this beautifully illustrated tale from the Middle East, a wise and lovely princess told her three suitors that she would marry the one who brought her the thing of greatest wonder. One uses his gift, a crystal ball, to learn that she is dying. The second uses his gift, a flying carpet, to take the suitors to her in time for the third to use his gift, an orange with special powers, to heal her. The gifts were of equal value in saving her life, but she could only marry one of the suitors. … Eric A. Kimmel8–12 years