Gospel Story Finder

I have always wanted to share the gospel with others, but for many years I wasn’t successful. Until I became friends with a boy named Tiago. We lived close to each other, so we walked home together after school each day.

One day, we took a different route home and passed by the chapel where I went to church. I told him that I had been a member of the Church for a long time. I told him what we believed and how much my family had been blessed by it. I invited Tiago to church that Sunday, and he said he would come.

Sunday arrived, and I anxiously waited for him at church, but he didn’t come. Later that week, I invited him again. This happened for two or three months, but he always had an excuse to not come. But I didn’t stop inviting him.

One Sunday morning, I was in sacrament meeting and looked over to see Tiago standing there. I was surprised to see him, but he came and sat down by me and said, “I promised I would come!”

I introduced him to the missionaries, and they started teaching him. Later, he got baptized. Now we’re both preparing to go on missions. I’m so glad I didn’t give up on him!
Meiry R., Brazil

A boy I knew had been sent, at great sacrifice by his parents, to a university to acquire an education. He went with little aspiration or desire to succeed, seeking instead to have a “good time.” Shortly after he arrived, he became involved in a case of petty theft, “just for the excitement,” he said later. He was caught and put on probation. But when his search for good times exhausted the limited resources provided by his parents, in desperation he tried to steal a large sum of money—and was caught again. This time he went to the state prison.
His bishop, knowing that I would be traveling in the vicinity of the prison, asked if I would visit the young man. I was a stake president at the time, so I took a member of the stake high council with me. The large gate swung shut behind us, a guard searched us carefully, and then we were ushered into a small concrete building where those from the outside were allowed to spend time visiting with inmates.
I had in my mind a picture of a hardened criminal—mean, surly, dangerous, someone to be feared. Then the door opened, and one of the most handsome young men I had ever seen stepped into the room—neat, clean-shaven, hair nicely combed. He smiled at me in recognition and offered his hand in greeting. “President, what are you doing here? You have probably never seen me, but I heard you speak once at a stake conference,” he explained, then asked earnestly, “How is my family?”
After I reassured him about his parents, we talked about him: how soon he would be released and how he was being treated. He seemed in good spirits and cheerful despite the bleak surroundings. As we visited, I asked him if he had really done all the things he was accused of. His reply was prompt and direct: “Yes, and more. I deserve all of this.” The motion of his hand took in the confining room and its surroundings. “I have lost nearly everything—my self-respect, my friends, the confidence of my family—almost everything.” His chin quivered and his face became anguished. He broke down crying. Sobs shook his body, and I tried to comfort him.
When he regained his composure, we continued our visit. It proved to be a marvelous moment to teach him; he was humble and eager to learn. We talked about faith, repentance, and the divine mission of our Savior, Jesus Christ. I reminded the young man that Christ gave His own sweet life in holy sacrifice as payment for the sins of those who repent and obey. The Spirit touched each of us during those moments together. My young friend was contrite, filled with hope and a greater understanding of God’s love.
On the morning of his release from prison, a loving father and mother embraced their son and welcomed him to a new life. They visited at our home. The son was repentant and eager to start anew. He expressed his great love for the Savior and his gratitude for the opportunity to progress through blessings offered in the Church. I assured him of my respect, my confidence, and my love for him.
Over a period of several years, I received occasional telephone calls from him advising me of his progress. He was doing well. He had worked through the repentance process with his bishop and the Lord. There were still difficulties and obstacles to overcome, but his progress was steady. The call that touched me most was the one in which he told me that he would be taking a young woman to the house of the Lord to be married. He had come full circle, from wickedness and despair to righteousness and joy. The Spirit of the Lord had led him to the Living Waters, and he had drunk deeply.

Life was still difficult, so much so that I left home for a brief time to give myself moments of reflection. I went to a friend’s house outside of Abidjan. One day around 6 am, a voice said to me: “Get up quickly and join your children in Abidjan”.
When I arrived, my children taught me that they should be baptized at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, whose missionaries had previously taught my children, but to whom I paid little attention because I was not attracted to religions. I was therefore invited to attend the baptism of my children at the Quatre Etages Ward.
Bishop Etian’s speech had a positive impact on me. It was the story of the “King with the Severed Finger” told by Muslim folk wisdom. A king had a finger cut off during the hunt and imprisoned his advisor who told him to let Allah (God) prevail in all things. Sometime later the king and his retinue were captured in the bush by cannibals who did not want him because of his disability. He was therefore the only one released and his life spared. He ran to deliver his servant, apologizing profusely. The latter replied that God is never wrong and that everything works together for our good. He said, “If you hadn’t put me in jail, I would be with you, captured, devoured by the cannibals, and probably dead today.”
From that moment on, I made a firm resolution to take my life and that of my children totally into my own hands by being baptized. From then on, I decided to forgive my husband for the wrongs I had suffered. My husband is still not in our home, but I have a more brotherly and kinder relationship with him through the power of forgiveness. I undertook income-generating activities that have allowed me to provide for my family and especially to ensure the schooling of my children for more than 15 years. Today, two of my daughters are starting careers as teachers in public schools. My last son has just been admitted to the university for which I am looking for ways to finance the courses. They make me proud. I have been able to go to the Accra Ghana Temple where I was endowed and sealed to my deceased parents.
I hope one day to be able to remarry in the temple to have an eternal marriage. The lessons I draw from my life is that everything works together for the good of one who believes in God.

“I’m the Wishgiver,” Kaitlyn sang.
Jeremy jumped from his bed and stood at the door of his room. That’s all he needed—his little sister messing with his stuff.
“Look, Jeremy! Look!”
Kaitlyn spun in circles, almost tripping over the cape that swirled around her ankles.
The costume didn’t look all that great. Just a big T-shirt that used to be his and that Mom had sewn a big W on, and an old beach towel with two corners tied in a knot in front. “Looks good,” Jeremy said, forcing a smile.
“Make a wish.” Swirling her cape again, Kaitlyn moved closer to his room.
Closing his door behind him, Jeremy led the lively Wishgiver to the family room. “I wish to see you rehearse your part in the play as our family home evening activity tonight,” he chuckled good-naturedly.
After that, every day Kaitlyn bounced around in her costume. Mom laughed, “You’re going to wear your costume out before the play.” Then she hugged Kaitlyn and played the Wishgiver game.
Jeremy holed up in his room. It was hard to pretend, even for Kaitlyn, in a superhero who could make wishes come true. He was glad that she realized that it was only make-believe and didn’t pretend Dad was alive, or something like that.
At last the play was only three days away. Jeremy, Kaitlyn, and Mom sat at the kitchen table, eating breakfast.
Jeremy swallowed a bite of toast. “I’m supposed to take treats to the soccer party Saturday.”
“Are brownies OK?” Mom asked. “We’ll make them Friday—I have to work Saturday.” She turned to Kaitlyn. “Honey, I’m sorry, but I can’t come to your play.”
Kaitlyn plunked her spoon into her cereal bowl. Milk sloshed over its sides. “You’re not coming?”
Mom took Kaitlyn’s face in her hands. “I tried, honey, but I can’t get another nurse to take my shift.”
“But it’s my play!”
Jeremy focused on his banana. He peeled the skin back, picking off bits that were left behind.
Kaitlyn’s lip quivered. Mom hugged her. “Mrs. Santangelo will take you. She’s really looking forward to seeing your play.”
“But you’re my mommy. Mrs. Santangelo’s not the same. She’s not my family. Jeremy, can’t you come?”
Jeremy wadded the banana peel. “I have a party that day.”
“You can’t come, either?”
Jeremy didn’t look up from the squished peel. He knew how Kaitlyn was feeling. Not too many weeks ago, at his soccer game, he’d felt the same way.
Most of the kids had dads there. Mom was OK. She cheered and knew the rules. But she couldn’t come to the final game. She’d had to work then too. Even so, before the game, he’d searched the sidelines. No Mom.
He’d played well—each time he kicked the ball, he’d think of Mom not being there and the ball would sail far. He’d scored three goals, and the score was 5–4 in favor of the opponents when he got the ball again in the final minutes. He dribbled it down the field, evaded the defense, and aimed at the goal. The ball bounded toward the goal, hit the corner of the post, and went … outside.
“I lost the game,” Jeremy moaned. Knowing that no one was there waiting for him in the bleachers, but still hoping, he trudged off the field.
The game had been days ago, and as Jeremy cleared his dishes from the table, he wanted to forget about how awful and alone he’d felt. He tried not to notice that Kaitlyn had started to cry.
For the next three days, Kaitlyn didn’t dress in the Wishgiver costume, and no one played the Wishgiver game. Even if it was dumb, Jeremy missed it. “Hey, Kaitlyn,” he coaxed, “put on your costume. I have a wish for you.”
“It’s just a costume,” Kaitlyn muttered. “The Wishgiver can’t really make things happen.”
The day of the play, Mom hustled Kaitlyn into the car to take her to the Santangelo’s. Kaitlyn was quiet, all the bubble gone. Mom didn’t say much, either. As she opened the car door, she turned to Jeremy. “The brownies are on the kitchen table. Be careful crossing the highway. And have a good time at the party.”
Jeremy watched Mom climb into the car. The party. It was just a dumb old party—a bunch of guys horsing around and … “Hey, Mom, wait up!” He raced to the car. “Do you think Mrs. Santangelo would mind if I came?”
Mom turned off the engine and looked into his eyes. Her own eyes were kind of misty. “But your party. … You don’t want to miss that.”
“The guys’ll just mess around. I can get there after the play in plenty of time for the food. Do we have time to drop the brownies off?”
He raced into the house, grabbed his treats, then raced back out to the car and piled into the back seat next to Kaitlyn. For the first time in three days, she smiled—a big smile, big enough to show her missing teeth. “You’re coming to my play!”
“I’ve nothing better to do—no big deal.”
Kaitlyn giggled and snuggled as close to him as the seat belt would allow.
At the play, Jeremy sat between Mrs. Santangelo and some big guy, probably some kid’s dad. There weren’t many kids there. At his party he’d be with lots of them, all his friends.
For a bunch of little kids, the play wasn’t bad. The parents clapped and clapped. Then all the actors came in front of the curtain and told not what they wished for but what they were thankful for.
When it was Kaitlyn’s turn, Jeremy squirmed in his seat. She scared easily. She stood in front of the footlights, squinting into the glare. Scrunching her eyebrows, she searched the audience. “I’m thankful for … I’m thankful for my brother.”
Jeremy sat tall. The guy next to him didn’t seem so big.
The kids rushed off the stage, and in the push, Kaitlyn tripped and fell, tearing her precious cape. Jeremy helped her up.
She smiled up at him, her eyes gleaming. “Did you like it?”
“Yeah, it was good.”
“Do you have to go to your party now?”
She looked so tiny and alone with her missing teeth and her torn cape.
“Nah—it looks like they have good food here. I’ll hang around.”
Maybe you don’t have to be a Wishgiver to make wishes come true.

Suddenly it started to rain. At first it was a soft, gentle rain that did not bother Tommy as he milked the cow and helped his father feed the oxen. Later, when they started to pitch the tent, the rain came down in fierce, angry sheets that bit into Tommy’s shoulders. The wind blew so hard that it wrenched the tent out of their hands.
“We’ll have to do without the tent tonight,” Father finally decided.
“Where will you and Mamma sleep?” asked Tommy. “My wagon is too full of corn and wheat for anybody to sleep there.”
“You and Betsy can sleep with Mamma in the other wagon,” answered his father, “and I will make a bed underneath it for me.”
“I will sleep under the wagon,” said Tommy quietly.
Father did not answer at once, but Tommy knew by the pressure of his hand that he was proud that his son had offered. Finally Father quietly said, “I’ll help you gather pine boughs to put on the ground so your bed won’t sink into the mud.”
Tommy was glad when they had enough pine boughs, because it was difficult to cut them in the stinging rain. Over these pine boughs he and his father put the folded tent, leaving enough of it free on each side to pull over the bedroll so Tommy would not get wet.
When the bed was ready, Tommy crawled into it. At first it was frightening to be alone in the storm. Never had he heard such loud thunder, and the lightning flashes were so close that he could see small fires appear in the tops of the trees where lightning had hit. Even though he knew the heavy rain would soon put them out, Tommy was afraid. What if the lightning should strike the wagon where the others are sleeping? he asked himself. He wanted to call out to his father for comfort, but he didn’t want anyone to know that he was afraid.
I’ll ask Heavenly Father to help me, he said to himself. And he did. Tommy almost expected his prayer to be answered by the thunder and lightning stopping. Instead it was answered by Tommy not being afraid any more.
Then Tommy began to enjoy the storm. It was almost as if giant fireworks were everywhere. Instead of wanting to go to sleep, he wanted to stay awake so he would not miss any of it. But since the storm lasted all night, Tommy’s eyes finally closed. He did not open them again until he felt water lapping at his feet and discovered that the little creek beside which they had camped had become a raging torrent during the night.
Excitedly Tommy called out to his father, “The creek has overflowed and the back wheels of the wagon are standing in the water!”
Tommy’s father was out of the wagon in an instant. When he saw the situation, he helped Tommy pull the bed out from under the wagon and then hitched up both teams of oxen to pull the wagon out of the water. The ground was so slippery the oxen could not get a foothold.
“We will have to build a corduroy road,” said Tommy’s father.
To do this, Tommy and his father cut down many trees. They trimmed off the limbs and laid the poles side by side, close to and in front of the wagon; then with willows they bound each log tightly to the next one so they would not roll. When this was finished, they packed tough grass and pine needles on top of the poles so the oxen’s hoofs could not slip into the cracks.
Finally they coaxed the frightened oxen up onto the corduroy road and hitched them to the wagon. Father spoke to the oxen in a soothing tone, “Steady now, pull together.”
The oxen did pull together. The heavy wagon wheels rolled out of the mud, onto the tough grass, over the corduroy road, and up onto the road that the Camp of Israel would be traveling that day.
Tommy shouted, “Hooray!” and he could see by the look on his mother’s face that she was proud of her two “men.”

The New Era has confirmed my belief in ESP—Extra Spiritual Protection. Since I came on my mission, the New Era has ranked second only to the standard works. It seems like every issue is designed with one of my problems in mind. I felt it was merely a coincidence until I picked up your April issue. It was my birthday, and the mission president called to tell me my father had passed away. Needless to say, it was quite a blow, but my district leader had given us the April magazine, and as I picked it up, it fell open to the article “What Is the Purpose of Suffering?” You can’t realize the strength it gave me to continue my work. I have since learned that my father knew he wasn’t going to be alive when I returned, but he didn’t tell me because he wanted to see me go on my mission. I want to thank Kenneth H. Beesley for writing the article. Every month I become more convinced that the New Era articles are inspired. I hope they can offer other people as much strength as they have me. My only regret is that the magazine comes out only once a month.
Elder Robert Jefferson Busch, Jr.England Bristol Mission

My mother invited Lee to sit in on the lessons too, but he was caught up in his senior-year activities and wasn’t interested. He sat in on the first discussion, but then always seemed to have something else to do whenever the elders visited. My mom and I started attending church together, and things just started to feel right. I was baptized that spring, shortly before my brother graduated. At the end of my school term, Mom and I decided it would be better for me if I repeated the seventh grade and buckled down to do things right. I felt good inside.
Lee went into the army the summer he graduated and was sent to Kentucky for basic training. For a boy raised in thin mountain air, the humid air of Kentucky in August was almost more than he could bear. Lee also found out what homesickness is all about. He wrote home every day, and Mom cried when she read his letters. She asked him to find out if there was an LDS ward he could attend near the base. We prayed for him and encouraged him to pray too. My grandmother had given Lee a Bible as a graduation present, and for some reason he had thrown it in his suitcase when he left. It turned out that religious books were the only reading material allowed on base. When he told my mother that, she sent him a Book of Mormon. Shortly after that, we started getting letters from Lee saying how much he enjoyed the scriptures and that he was reading them aloud to other soldiers in his unit. Of course, my mother cried some more. In a few weeks Mom asked Lee if he wanted to take the missionary discussions. But Lee wrote back to say he had already asked the bishop to set up discussions. He was baptized that Thanksgiving when he came home on leave. Mom cried then too.

It was Friday. Payday! A day we all looked forward to like Christmas, twice a month. Most of us would go out at lunchtime to cash our checks, pay some bills, maybe do a little shopping and take a break from boring sack lunches.
As the checks were brought around, I happened to be passing the desk of one of the secretaries. Shauna was a single woman in her late twenties. She lived with her parents, and apparently they still provided a lot for her. Because when she opened her pay envelope she stopped and looked thoughtful for a minute.
“You know,” she said to no one in particular, “now I can’t remember if I cashed my last check or not.”
The rest of us looked at each other with amusement and maybe a little disbelief. Then Shauna went on to tell us how she had come across several uncashed checks in a drawer at home about six months before. That really blew us away. Those of us who had gathered at Shauna’s desk just walked away, shaking our heads.
Now, if you have trouble relating to Shauna’s attitude, just imagine this: For two weeks you have worked hard. Now you are cashing your paycheck. But when the teller puts the money on the counter, you just take some of it and leave the rest behind. That doesn’t make much more sense than Shauna’s attitude, does it?
So how about this scenario? You go to your church meetings even when you are tired or when you have too much homework or the Super Bowl is on TV. You go to seminary (early-morning, even), you pay your tithing, work on service projects, keep the Word of Wisdom, and stay morally clean despite temptations. You plug along, trying to do what’s right, keeping your parents and your bishop and your teachers happy.
But, are you happy? What are you getting out of it? Yes, you are getting blessings. But some of your less active LDS friends, and even your nonmember friends, seem to be enjoying many of those same blessings. They have loving families, good health, food and clothing, etc. So what are the blessings you are enjoying as a result of “doing the right things”? Do you think they are future blessings that will come when you get married or when you die and are judged?
If you are not happy now because you are trying to do what is right, you may be missing the full paycheck. Because living the gospel should be more than gritting your teeth and abstaining, more than doing your duty with grim determination. There’s joy and happiness to be found in it right now, at this time of your life.
How can you be happy living the gospel now? Here are some important keys.
Develop your testimony now. If you don’t feel that you have one, work at it. Study and fast and pray. Read the Book of Mormon. If you have a testimony or the beginnings of one, continue to develop it.
When you have a testimony, you have the Lord’s personal witness that the gospel principles you try to live are true. Then you are not just doing them for others. And when you open the line of communication with the Spirit, the Lord can bless you with the feelings of satisfaction and self-worth and joy that he alone can give.
If there is something you need to repent of, do it now! True repentance is unbelievably sweet. Your whole soul opens up to the joyous influence of the Spirit when you repent. When you delay repentance, you delay the joy that you could otherwise be experiencing right now.
Think about what you are doing. When you pay your tithing, do it with a prayer in your heart that says you are grateful to offer it to the Lord. When you go to sacrament meeting, think about what you are doing when you take the sacrament. When you work on a service project, remember the Lord’s commandments to love and serve others.
Don’t try to be two people—one person on Sunday and someone else the other six days of the week. Don’t walk the edge, toying with temptation, seeing how close you can come to the brink without falling off the edge. For example, it is difficult enough to remain pure. If you watch the wrong movies and read the wrong books, if you look with longing at what others are doing in the world while you wish and imagine, then the Spirit cannot give you the rewarding feelings of peace and joy and approval that could be yours through controlling your desires. There will not be room in your heart and mind.
Above all, remember that “men are, that they might have joy” (2 Ne. 2:25)—joy in this life as well as the life to come, and this is the best pay of all. Your Father in Heaven loves you. And as you keep his commandments willingly, and thoughtfully, and prayerfully, he stands ready to bless you now with the sweet, joyful reassurance of the Spirit. You will still experience the sorrows that are part of life, but you will also discover the joys that are equally a part of life.

Martin Reynolds, 18, of Sutton Coldfield, has found extra blessings coming from hard work needed for his particular round.

“My mother and I agreed to deliver 2,800 daily papers around our area,” he explains. “These have to be dropped off at 14 pickup points in bundles of 100. We get up at 4.30 A.M. returning home by 6.00 A.M. Not only do I save for my mission and have money for other activities this way, but I also have the chance to talk with my Mum. We get along really well. And it’s been a good time for her to teach me to drive.”

It was December, the season when people’s feelings are tender as they remember the birth of Jesus Christ and what He did for us through His infinite Atonement.
When I arrived home from work, my three children and my beautiful wife shared with me a decision they had made about Christmas: “There won’t be any need to buy presents this year,” they declared.
Surprised, I asked, “And what brought about this decision?” After all, my children would be sacrificing something they had looked forward to all year.
They immediately went and retrieved my two old, frayed suits. “Daddy,” they said, “with the money we were going to use for Christmas presents, we want you to replace these old suits with a new one. We would like to see you go to work in a new suit!”
I realized that this was the true spirit of Christmas. When we sacrifice something for someone else, we come to understand the meaning of the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
Later, when I put on the new suit I received for Christmas, I felt that I was dressed in love.

John’s shoes needed repairing. He had worn them out running up and down on Steensbakken (Steens Hill), where he lived with his mother, Anna Widtsoe, and his two-year-old brother, Osborne. After the death of their father when Osborne was only two months old, the family had moved from Froya, the outermost island off the coast of Norway, to the mainland. They lived in a small apartment in Trondheim, the town known as the Cathedral City. The two little boys and their mother often looked out over the beautiful old capital city to the harbor and the fjord that zigzagged out toward the ocean.
When John showed Mother how his shoes had worn, she asked a neighbor to recommend someone who could repair them. He knew just the right person, he said, and soon a boy came to their door. He was a shoemaker’s son who picked up and delivered shoes for his father. A few days later the boy brought back John’s shoes neatly mended. A strange little pamphlet was tucked into the toe of each shoe.
John’s father had been a schoolmaster. Before he died he had taught his young son to read, but there were so many unfamiliar words in the pamphlet that the boy could not understand what was written.
The next day his mother wrapped another pair of shoes that needed repairing into a parcel, tucked them under her arm, and set out on the half-hour walk to the shoemaker’s shop. She seemed more quiet than usual when she returned, and during the next few days she was thoughtful and restless.
When the shoemaker’s son delivered the second pair of shoes, new pamphlets were tucked into the toe of each one. John knew that his mother spent many hours carefully studying them. The next Sunday she arranged for someone to be with the boys while she went to a meeting at the shoemaker’s sturdy log house.
It was not until some years later that she told John what the shoemaker had said when she went to his shop that first time to ask him why he had put a pamphlet into each of John’s shoes.
“You may be surprised,” he had answered, “to hear me say that I can give you something of far more value than soles for your child’s shoes.”
The pamphlets were Mormon missionary tracts. Because of them John, his mother, and his brother became members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. None of their relatives or friends approved; all became unfriendly toward Anna and the boys.

I was sixteen when my six-year-old sister, Marcia, contracted polio during the epidemic of the early 1950s. Our family was devastated—she had an acute case, and it was feared that she would be severely paralyzed. When people came down with polio, they had a very high temperature. Until the temperature went down, the degree of paralysis increased. Doctors, family members, and the patient watched and waited by the hour for that temperature to drop.
When she became ill, Marcia was sent from Preston to Pocatello, Idaho, a larger city with better medical facilities. The rest of us decided to have a family fast, and we started it immediately. I was a junior in high school. That particular day, my school was playing a very important football game. I thought fasting might make me too weak to play well, but I chose to fast anyway. I played the best game I had ever played.
Marcia’s temperature went down that day, and the paralysis stopped progressing. She spent a lot of time at a rehabilitation center in Boise, Idaho, and was away from the family for several months. She received many priesthood administrations for her health, and a lot of prayers were offered in her behalf throughout her ordeal. She recovered from the polio and the paralysis. Medical authorities said that she would never have children, but she has three children and has lived a very normal life. We know that she has been blessed by the Lord.

“Not Ivy! She’s a girl,” Braden whispered behind Adam.
But Adam was team captain for dodgeball for the day, and he had made his choice. “I pick Ivy,” he repeated a little louder. Tyler, the other team captain, smirked. Even Coach Garcia looked surprised at Adam’s second pick.
Ivy looked surprised too and then shyly stepped forward. Braden groaned.
Ivy wasn’t just any girl. She was the smallest girl in the class. She didn’t look very fast, and the ball seemed bigger than she was. “She probably can’t even lift the ball,” Braden said as Ivy walked over.
“Maybe she’ll be our secret weapon,” Adam said, trying to sound sure. But that’s not why he had picked her. Ivy had once told Adam she didn’t like it when they played sports because she was always picked last. The other boys teased Ivy, but Mom and Dad had told Adam that boys should show respect for girls. So he picked Ivy. As he watched Tyler pick the biggest boy in class, Adam gulped. What would this game be like?
After everyone was on a team, Coach Garcia blew the whistle, and the teams ran to opposite ends of the court. Coach Garcia handed Tyler the ball, and Tyler scanned Adam’s team before he focused on Ivy. He pulled back his arm and let the ball fly.
Bam! The ball smacked the ground and bounced without hitting anyone. Adam blinked. Ivy had moved just in time. Everyone around him seemed surprised, but Adam just smiled. Maybe picking Ivy had been a good idea after all.
The game continued. Tyler kept trying to hit Ivy with the ball, but she kept dodging and diving out of the way. No one could hit her with a ball. Tyler and some of his teammates were so busy trying to get Ivy out that they didn’t spend much time aiming for anyone else. Adam grinned—Ivy’s size actually made her better at dodgeball because being small and fast made her harder to hit.
At last Adam’s team won the game. “Secret weapon was right,” Braden said. “Ivy’s pretty good.”
“Yeah,” Tyler said. “Next time, she’s on my team. We’ll win for sure!” Ivy smiled as she walked back to class, surrounded by teammates.
Adam couldn’t stop smiling as he followed the group. He had been nice to Ivy, and he had helped the other boys respect girls a little more. The greatest secret weapon wasn’t a secret at all—it was just being kind.

Now let’s look at two people who followed the Savior’s example of shining light. Recently my friend Kevin was seated next to a business executive at dinner. He worried what to talk about for two hours. Following a prompting, Kevin asked, “Tell me about your family. Where do they come from?”

The gentleman knew little about his heritage, so Kevin pulled out his phone, saying, “I have an app that connects people to their families. Let’s see what we can find.”

After a lengthy discussion, Kevin’s new friend asked, “Why is family so important to your church?”

Kevin answered simply, “We believe that we continue to live after we die. If we identify our ancestors and take their names to a sacred place called a temple, we can perform marriage ordinances that will keep our families together even after death.”

Kevin started with something he and his new friend had in common. He then found a way to witness of the Savior’s light and love.

The second story is about Ella, a collegiate basketball player. Her example began when she received her mission call while away at school. She chose to open her call in front of her team. They knew almost nothing about the Church of Jesus Christ and didn’t understand Ella’s desire to serve. She prayed repeatedly to know how to explain her mission call in a way that her teammates might feel the Spirit. Her answer?
“I made a PowerPoint,” Ella said, “because I’m just that cool.” She told them about the potential of serving in one of 400-plus missions and possibly learning a language. She highlighted the thousands of missionaries already serving. Ella ended with a picture of the Savior and this brief testimony: “Basketball is one of the most important things in my life. I moved across the country and left my family to play for this coach and with this team. The only two things that are more important to me than basketball are my faith and my family.”

“Should we turn back or move ahead?” This was the question that dominated the thoughts of the pioneer company on the night of 3 December 1879. Church President John Taylor had called this group of pioneers to settle the San Juan Mission, in the southeastern part of what is now the state of Utah. But at this point in the trek, there seemed to be no clear answer on how to proceed.
The pioneers were camped at 40-Mile Spring, located on a high plateau. Silas S. Smith, the president of the company, realized how serious their situation was. Camped in some 80 wagons were nearly 250 men, women, and children. Hundreds of cattle were also part of the caravan. Winter was upon them, and they had too few supplies and other resources to remain at this encampment until spring.
President Smith sat in his tent and deliberated with other leaders. Turning back seemed impossible. Behind them, to the west, heavy snows had buried the road through the Escalante Mountains, as well as any foliage the livestock could eat. Besides, the pioneers took seriously the calling President Taylor had given them to settle the San Juan Mission, which was part of President Brigham Young’s original plan to establish settlements throughout much of the West. Who among them would refuse such a call?
Ahead of the pioneers, to the east, lay more than 300 kilometers of rough terrain with no road and little water. A decision to go forward would force them to travel through Hole-in-the-Rock—a crevice in the west wall of Glen Canyon at a high plateau above the Colorado River. It was a dangerous shortcut, but the only other trail was more than 600 kilometers long. An exploring party’s report had been pessimistic. Going through Hole-in-the-Rock would mean taking wagons and cattle on a trail that dropped 610 meters, one-third of that drop at a 45-degree angle.
Most felt it was impossible. After much discussion, one of the men made the motion to leave the decision to “President Smith and the Lord.” A unanimous vote reflected the faith of those present that the Lord would inspire their leader.
The next morning, President Smith called a meeting to announce the decision to move ahead. “The miracle of this decision went through the company like an electric shock,” wrote Kumen Jones, a member of the group, “and all was good cheer and hustle.” In the meeting, many bore testimony in support of moving ahead. Someone began to sing. Others joined in, and soon the chilly December air rang with “The Spirit of God like a fire is burning!” (Hymns, 1985, number 2).

It was the middle of winter, and I was in my beach clothes. My little sister had been planning this for weeks, and it was finally here: the family inside beach party! We’d all helped prepare by drawing decorations, hanging lights inside, and covering the floor with beach towels. My dad even joked about putting sunscreen on! We listened to beach music and ate our dinner on the floor. After eating we played our own version of volleyball by tying a string across the room for the “net” while each team tried to blow a feather over the string rather than hitting a ball. Laughing together at the different faces each of us made was the best part of the night. But doing something together as a family—something really fun and different—made it even better.

Not long ago, Josh received his mission call to serve in the Washington D.C. South Mission, speaking Persian.
“Persian?!” he says. “I had no idea that language was even taught at the MTC.”
As it happens, there are only three elders in his mission who currently speak Persian. And very few other missions include that language at all.
He started buckling down to learn as much Persian as possible before entering the missionary training center, but then everything missionary-wise got thrown into uncertainty as the pandemic took hold.
It’d be understandable for anybody in Luke’s situation to feel discouraged, but he says he finds heavenly help every day. “I see a lot of blessings in disguise.”
One of his favorite blessings in disguise was only possible because seminary was held virtually. Due to different start times, he was actually able to attend his current seminary class in Alabama as well as his old one back in Mississippi! “That’s been kind of cool because I can stay in touch with my friends!”
That’s only one blessing, though. “I also have more time for prayer and scriptures,” he points out. “And more time to study my language before entering the MTC.”
On that note, Luke was fortunate enough to connect, through a social media group, with the mother of one of the Persian-speaking missionaries in his mission. She was thrilled to hear from Luke and offered to send him some language-training tools her son used before his mission.
Luke has been using those tools ever since.
“I love the extra time to study,” he says again. “Especially family study in the morning. Now we have more time to do that than we normally did.”
The biggest question on Luke’s mind has been about what to decide regarding his mission. Like so many others in his situation, Luke has to choose whether to defer his mission call for a year or more, or wait and see if he can go as soon as possible with the original date.
Nothing is certain yet.
For Luke, direction came after watching general conference. “President Nelson and the other leaders were so optimistic,” Luke said. “It makes me optimistic too. So, at least for now, I’m going to plan on serving during my normal time.”
Luke knows that nothing is certain where COVID-19 is concerned. Even so, he’s absolutely certain about something else. “God is at the wheel,” Luke says. “He isn’t going to let us fail.”

In the hands of nonmembers it works while one sleeps. Let me give you two personal experiences regarding this.

The first is about James Monroe Hastings and his wife, Eddie. Mr. Hastings was a Baptist minister in New Mexico during the depression days in the early 1930s. After one of his revival meetings, someone gave him a Book of Mormon which he took home and placed on the shelf. About five years later he picked it up and started to read it. After he had read it through, he testified to his family it was true. The next weekend he went to Springerville, Arizona, to find a member of the Church who could teach him more. It was only a few weeks until he and his family were baptized.

Brother and Sister Hastings and their family appeared in our little branch in Oklahoma City in mid-1939. They had moved there to try to convert his brother and family who lived there. After they had brought them into the Church, they moved where others of the family lived so they could teach them.

The other experience was related to me by a good friend. He gave a Book of Mormon to one of his associates in business. He soon retired from the company and heard nothing from this former associate for several years. When he saw him again, the friend said, “Possibly you’d like to know what happened to your Book of Mormon? I haven’t read it, but many of my family have, and there are now nineteen of my family members in your church as a result of reading it.
“I took the book home and put it on the shelf. One night as my mother was babysitting for us, she saw the book and began to read it. When we came home, she asked us about it. She said, ‘This book is true.’ This started a chain of events that brought about these many baptisms.”

The Lord said to Joseph Smith, “This generation shall have my word through you.” (D&C 5:10.) The Book of Mormon and latter-day revelation to the Church came through Joseph Smith. It testifies of Christ. It is a new witness for Christ. Listen to the words of Nephi:
“The words which I have written in weakness will be made strong unto them; for it persuadeth them to do good … and it speaketh of Jesus, and persuadeth them to believe in him, and to endure to the end, which is life eternal.
“And it speaketh harshly against sin, according to the plainness of the truth; wherefore, no man will be angry at the words which I have written save he shall be of the spirit of the devil.
“… If ye shall believe in Christ ye will believe in these words, for they are the words of Christ, and he hath given them unto me; and they teach all men that they should do good.” (2 Ne. 33:4–5, 10.)

The Nephites were individual witnesses of the risen Lord. When he visited them, he invited them to see for themselves. He said, “Arise and come forth unto me, that ye may thrust your hands into my side, and also that ye may feel the prints of the nails in my hands and in my feet, that ye may know that I am the God of Israel, and the God of the whole earth, and have been slain for the sins of the world. …
“And the multitude did see and hear and bear record; and … all of them did see and hear, every man for himself.” (3 Ne. 11:14; 17:25.)

The Book of Mormon testifies of Joseph Smith. The prophet Lehi in his words to Joseph, his youngest son, referred to the covenant made by God to his ancestor, the great Joseph who was sold into Egypt. This unusual seer, Joseph of Egypt, received from the Lord the promise that from the fruit of his loins a righteous branch should be raised up and also the promise that the Messiah should be manifest to his descendants in the latter days. The Lord would raise up a choice seer, like unto Moses, to the remnants of Joseph:
“For Joseph truly testified, saying: A seer shall the Lord my God raise up, who shall be a choice seer unto the fruits of my loins.
“And I will make him great in mine eyes; for he shall do my work.
“And he shall be great like unto Moses.
“And his name shall be called after me; and it shall be after the name of his father. And he shall be like unto me; for the thing, which the Lord shall bring forth by his hand, by the power of the Lord shall bring my people unto salvation.” (2 Ne. 3:6, 8–9, 15.)
Joseph Smith, the Latter-day prophet, fulfilled this prophecy.

Ben stood with his friends after school in the hot sun as they waited for the bus home. He wished for the thousandth time that there was some shade at the bus stop!
“Hey, here comes Frankie,” one of his friends said. Frankie was part of their group.
“Dude, your shoes are so old they must’ve been made out of dinosaur skin!” Vince said once Frankie got closer.
Ben laughed at the joke as he glanced down at Frankie’s feet. Yup, his friend had on the same pair of tennis shoes he’d worn all school year. It was almost summer vacation. By now, the ratty shoes had holes in them and were falling apart.
They liked to give him a hard time about it, but Frankie always laughed it off.
Sure enough, Frankie was chuckling along with everybody else. But then Ben noticed something he hadn’t seen before. Frankie’s smile seemed different somehow. Like he was trying to cover up that he really was upset.
Something cold turned in Ben’s stomach.
His friends teased Frankie about the old shoes until the bus rolled up. This time, though, Ben didn’t laugh with them. He couldn’t help but feel like they’d hurt Frankie’s feelings.
As Ben plopped down onto the hot green vinyl seat of the school bus, he kept remembering the look on Frankie’s face from a few minutes earlier. Frankie walked to the back of the bus and chose a seat by himself.
Ben looked down at his lap. Had they gone too far? He knew Frankie’s family didn’t have a lot of money. In fact, now he wondered if those old scuffed shoes were his only pair besides church shoes.
Even though Ben had snagged a window seat on the bus, he couldn’t enjoy the ride home.
The next day Ben’s bad feeling grew worse. He thought about how he would feel if his friends made fun of what he wore. How often had they done that to Frankie?
And then he saw his friend at school. Ben’s eyes widened. Frankie was wearing new shoes! Not just new shoes, but cool new shoes. Ben felt another stab of guilt as he wondered if Frankie’s family could afford them.
At recess he grabbed a basketball and went over to shoot some hoops with Frankie. “So, where’d you buy those shoes?” Ben asked. “They’re awesome!”
Frankie shook his head and said quietly, “I didn’t. DJ bought them for me.”
Ben nearly dropped the basketball. DJ was one of the kids they hung out with at school. A kid who, now that Ben thought about it, never teased Frankie.
While the rest of them had made fun of Frankie, DJ did something nice instead.
I’m supposed to be Frankie’s friend, Ben thought. Why hadn’t I been nice too?
Ben cleared his throat and stopped bouncing the ball. “Hey. So, um, I’m really sorry about yesterday. You know. At the bus stop. That wasn’t nice of us.”
Frankie just shrugged. “It’s OK.”
“Hey, wanna play a game of one-on-one?” He passed the ball to Frankie. “You can start!”
Frankie’s face lit up in a smile, and Ben knew how he wanted to act from then on. He wanted to help make his friends happy every chance he could.

Most people find that serving in the Church’s youth programme is rewarding, uplifting, exciting and full of surprises. One family’s surprise came when they realised that six of them were serving in the Young Women’s organisation at the same time.
Carole Fullwood (nee Sayers) was thrilled to be called as Exeter Ward’s Young Women president. At the same time, one of her daughters, Kimberley Fullwood, was serving as the Plymouth Stake’s Young Women president.
Carole says, “Imagine my delight when my eldest daughter, Holly Fullwood-Chalkley, also announced that she had been called as Chorley 1st Ward’s Young Women president, meaning we could share ideas and experiences.”
Debbie continues, “Carole and I were talking about our Church responsibilities. She told me of hers and her daughter’s callings. I was amazed as my daughter, Esther Wall, is Liverpool Stake’s Young Women president, while I am currently serving as a Young Women counsellor to Ruth Fullwood, also my daughter, who is the president of Young Women in Southport Ward!”
Carole finishes, “‘When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God (Mosiah 2:17).’ It’s exciting to see our children accepting opportunities to serve and realising they have the same enthusiasm as we do for our callings. The greatest reward is the happiness felt when we serve.”