Gospel Story Finder

Wendell M. Smoot, president of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, was in his office that day, April 29, 1991, talking about the upcoming June 8 Tabernacle Choir tour to middle Europe and Russia.
He was basking in the assurance that though the tour had not yet begun, he knew everything was going to be all right, that the tour was going to be a success.
“Let me tell a remarkable story,” he said. “As in any such tour, you have to sign ahead of time your contracts for the airlines that will fly you to your destination, the halls where you are going to perform, the hotels where you are going to house and feed 510 people. It is customary to have certain payment dates at stated intervals, with some contracts requiring very heavy payments. The date of February 7, 1991, became a very important date, because on that day we had to put down a substantial amount of money. Late in January, I began to be very concerned.
“Do people remember what was going on in the world at that time?” he asked. “The air campaign against Iraq had started on January 16, a projected ground war was imminent, and fear of terrorism and hostage-taking was prevalent all over Europe. Individuals and organizations were canceling various plans and events due to the fear associated with the war. The people abroad with whom we were making arrangements feared that we, too, might cancel out.
“So, on Friday, February 1, I called President Gordon B. Hinckley of the First Presidency, the man I report to. ‘President, I need to see you,’ I said. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Come on over.’
“I went over and laid it all out to him. I then said, ‘President, the reputation of the Church is at stake if we cancel and this war stops soon. You can imagine what will be thought of us if we default on all our obligations, after pleading and begging to get into these prestigious concert halls and getting the promoters behind us. On the other hand, how tragic it would be to blindly go and put at risk all these people, their lives and their families. President, if there is any possibility whatsoever that the First Presidency would think of canceling this trip, I need to know now because of the big amount of money we need to put down Thursday, February 7. President, I’m here to get counsel.’
“The weekend passed, and on Monday morning I called and said, ‘President, I wonder if you have made a decision with the First Presidency concerning the matter I discussed with you last Friday.’
“President Hinckley said, ‘Wendell, I have thought about little else since you were here.’ There was a moment of silence. Then he said, ‘I will say this. The choir will go to Europe this coming summer. The war will be over.’
“I said, ‘President, that’s all I needed to hear.’ At the conclusion of our conversation, I took steps to fulfill our financial commitment, and we moved ahead.
“That day was February 4. The ground campaign of that tragic war didn’t start until February 24! And after it did start, the fighting ended with a cease-fire on February 28.
“But from those two conversations, I learned that this tour that we are about to go on is ordained of the Lord, that the Lord wants this tour. He wants us to go, and we will go and be preserved and be successful because this is a call from the Lord.”
The day was April 29—still forty days before the Tabernacle Choir’s scheduled departure.

“Can we talk?” Jonas asked Mom. He sat down on the grass next to where she was weeding the flower bed.
“Sure. What’s going on?” Mom asked. She took off her dirty garden gloves.
“Today at school some kids were saying a word I didn’t know. They laughed when they said it,” Jonas said. “I think it was a bad word.”
“How did you feel when you heard the word?” asked Mom.
“It didn’t make me feel good.”
Jonas whispered the word to Mom. She told him what it meant. Jonas was right. It wasn’t a nice word.
“But why is it bad?” he asked.
“It’s bad because it’s unkind and not respectful. When we use words like that, it makes it hard for the Holy Ghost to be with us. The Holy Ghost was telling you it was bad. That’s why you didn’t feel good inside.”
Jonas frowned. “But the other kids seemed to be having fun. Why was I the only one who felt uncomfortable?”
“How do you know the other kids didn’t feel the same way?” Mom asked.
“Because they all laughed and smiled when someone said the word.” Jonas felt confused.
“Sometimes people laugh or smile when they feel uncomfortable,” Mom said. “And sometimes when they hear or say bad words a lot, it doesn’t bother them anymore. But it’s still not right to say those words. It’s kind of like these weeds. I’m pulling them out to keep the garden clean and to let good plants grow.”
“I’m glad I didn’t say the word,” said Jonas.
“Me too,” said Mom. “I’m proud of you. And I have an idea. Why don’t we make a family promise?”
“What kind?” Jonas asked.
“Let’s promise to use good words and not bad words. It can be a family pact.”
Jonas liked that idea. He and Mom shook hands. Jonas felt good about the promise he made with Mom.
“Now, how about you promise to help me finish weeding?” Mom asked. “Then I’ll promise to take you to the park.”
Jonas grinned and picked up a spade. “It’s a deal.”
As he helped Mom, Jonas felt much better. He knew promising not to use bad words was a good choice for their family.
This story took place in the USA.

The island, Frøya (say Freh-ya), is sparsely inhabited, home of fishing villages, salmon farms, and marine biology research stations. It is also the birthplace of an Apostle. Here, in 1872, John Andreas Widtsoe was born. Later, his widowed mother moved with her children to Trondheim and joined the Church. When John was 11, the family moved to Utah, where he became a great educator and served for 31 years as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve.
“The youth know a little bit about Elder Widtsoe,” says Branch President Arne Dahlø, who organized the trip. “Mostly they know he was somebody important, that he was born on Frøya and lived in Trondheim. But he’s part of our heritage as Norwegian Latter-day Saints. We live where he lived. We ought to know what he did.”
By the time the ferry docks, the light is fading. The youth and their leaders pile quickly into cars. They drive over rough, bumpy roads to the far end of the island, where President Dahlø, a university professor who often does research here, has arranged for two buildings in which the group can stay.
On the rocky shore of an inlet, a young man yells, “Let’s get it started.” Soon a small flame grows bigger, the wood pops as it burns, and the sparks become dancers leaping through the night. The warmth of the flame takes the edge off the cool, salty air. It’s time for a “sausage roast,” the cooking of hotdogs over a campfire.
And like anybody around a campfire, the young people here sing, tell stories, and talk.
“We know a lot about Trondheim, the city where we live,” says Kjetil Bakkland, 13. “It used to be the capital of Norway. it has neat old buildings down by the river; it has a university and a cathedral. But Frøya, what’s it got? Mostly rocks, I think.”
The others laugh, but President Dahlø talks seriously for a minute. “We live in a wonderful city, it’s true,” he says. “But Frøya is a wonderful place, too.” And he talks about life in the villages, about flowers that grow among the rocks, about the incessant, pounding crash of the sea. “Elder Widtsoe knew about that,” he says. “He said you could hear the ocean in every room of his house, that it beat on his memory all through his life” (see In a Sunlit Land, Salt Lake City: Deseret News Press, 1952, p. 1).
Talk of the ocean and of storms invites comparisons with life and its storms. “I’ve been a member one year and one week today,” says Sonja Sivertsvik, 19. “I like it, but it’s hard to be a Mormon in Trondheim, because everyone says, ‘Oh, Mormons! You’re the ones with lots of wives!’ Or you get Christians who try to tell you you’re not Christian. There are lots of misconceptions about the Church, so to be a member here is not always popular.”
“But it’s not always what’s easy that’s best,” says Kristin Davik, the branch Young Women president. “You have to follow the deepest part of you, your conscience. You may meet hard times, but you have to be yourself.”
“All your friends won’t have the same standards you do,” says Lars-Petter M. Bedin, 15. “They’ll have other ideas about alcohol, smoking, chastity. But it’s really not a problem unless you make it a problem. I’m the only member in my family, but I’m happy to be in the Church. It’s one of the greatest things in my life.”
What they’re really talking about is growing, growing even when it’s difficult. The youth may not know it, but they’re talking about things Elder Widtsoe would understand. One of his educational specialties dealt with agriculture. He was an international authority on how to help things grow in a harsh climate.
The next morning dawns wet and gray, as it often does on Frøya. No matter. There’s much to do—first, a meeting with the mayor of one of the towns, then a visit to a monument erected in Elder Widtsoe’s honor, then a trip to the house where he was born and to a church built by his father.
It’s a morning of driving on unmarked roads, of hiking slippery hills, and of pleasant surprises—like finding the mayor already knows quite a bit about John A. Widtsoe, and that the local ship builder would love to have the youth visit his shop.
But mostly it’s a continuation of the journey of self-discovery. As President Dahlø tells some of the youth on top of the hill where the monument to Elder Widtsoe stands, this is like being in a time machine.
“You’re looking back,” he says, “and seeing the origins of a man who went on to do great things for the Church. He didn’t come from someplace famous. His father died when he was young. His mother learned about the Church when a member put some pamphlets inside shoes she was having repaired. But he loved God and he wanted to serve, and Heavenly Father provided a way.
“You can also look forward, and see the future of the Church in Norway,” President Dahlø continues. “And you all have a great part to play in that. It doesn’t matter where you come from or how hard you think things may be. What matters is whether or not you love the Lord, whether or not you want to serve. If you have the desire, God will provide the way.”
It is later in the afternoon now. The youth of the Trondheim First Branch are waiting, looking out to sea, hoping to catch a glimpse of the ferry. Soon it will appear on the line where the gray water and the gray sky meet. The ferry is coming to take them home. But even as they wait, even as they throw rocks in the water and look for sea urchins down by the pier, these young people seem a little bit different than they did before their journey to the island.
The lesson of this harsh land is that good things can grow here. That’s a lesson they’ll remember when they’re back in Trondheim, the next time the waves and winds of life try to beat them down. Here on Frøya, where they have come to look at the past, they have also glimpsed the future. It’s a future that, thanks to the gospel, can be bright indeed.

We were on a humanitarian missionary assignment to Romania right after the fall of the Berlin wall. By invitation, I taught classes to medical and helping professionals at the neuropsychiatric hospital in Bucharest. The lecture room was cold in the winter but they came in large numbers to learn. Most had not been taught helping theories and skills for forty years. One day hospital administrators came to say they needed our room. I said, "That is fine. We will continue next week." But the class said, "No. No, we will find another place." And they did.
It was an unused building at the other end of the large complex. I believe it had not been heated all winter. As my husband Harold helped me fill the van with our audio/visual equipment, I said, " It is too far and too cold--the class will not walk all that way." But as we drove along the main road, we looked over and saw them--trudging along in the snow through the campus. Soon they were seated in the cold and vacant building, wearing coats, hats, boots, scarves and some with mittens, pencils in hand. They were waiting to be taught. As we were setting up our equipment, we noticed the leader of the group was also searching for an electrical outlet that worked. She had an old, small, hotplate in her hand, the kind with the little wire coil as the element. And I thought, "These people are so innovative." She is going to keep warm with that hot plate. As I was beginning to teach, I noticed her coming toward me. She put the hot plate down by my feet. "There," she said, "It is not much, but I hope it will keep you a little warm while you teach us." And I was the one who was taught--the great blessing of selfless service, given with a willing heart, no matter the sacrifice of the contribution.

The File on Cindy
Cindy was a bright, hyperactive girl of fourteen who began, on occasion, to be quite emotional. It became increasingly hard for her to make and keep friends. She had a hard time getting along with others in school. She became unfriendly and hostile toward her parents. She started avoiding people and worried at great length about little day-to-day situations. She said she wanted to get out of the rat race. Her parents were fearful that she was experimenting with drugs.
The cases of Jerry and Cindy are true. They don’t know each other, but they do have something in common: Both of them are young Latter-day Saints who were having troubles. But today they are secure about themselves. Jerry has found new confidence in himself, which makes him feel good about his home life and school activities. He is planning on a mission. Cindy has developed a warm relationship with her family and even enjoys talking to her parents. In fact, she has helped some of her friends with their problems.
There is one other thing that Jerry and Cindy have in common. Both were helped tremendously in overcoming their problems by meeting with their bishops, who in turn through the stake president brought into the setting some professionals from the Church’s Social Services Department.

As I mentioned before, my first experience at BYU was entering to learn—not to obtain a degree but to learn English. I don’t know if you know that for many international students the English as a second language course is the first step to hopefully being able to apply to a BYU program. When your English still is not good enough to pass the TOEFL (Test of English as a Foreign Language), this course is a good option. That was my case.

I come from a humble family with little resources to put their children in good schools or to take English courses. Also, during those days missionaries did not have the opportunity to learn English while serving a mission in their own country. There was no such program in our missions in the past. I started my mission as a young missionary knowing zero English. Two years later, my English was still zero. Maybe I knew a few more words, such as Big Mac, French fries, popcorn, and so on. But that was it.

Thanks to a great missionary companion, David Boekweg, and his family and a loving mission president, John Hawkins, I had the chance to come to the United States right after my mission to learn English. I came not to apply to a BYU undergraduate program but at least to not be so afraid of this language anymore.

I remember how impressed I was with the beauty of the mountains, the greatness of the campus, the student lifestyle, the sports activities, and the weekend parties. I was amazed by the idea of how nice it would be to be a student here. But that was not my situation at the time. I had come just to learn English and then to go back to Brazil, and that was what I did. But I left my Utah days with a dream in my heart that maybe, someday, I would be able to return to BYU as a regular student. Or, if not me, hopefully I would be able to provide my children with such an opportunity in the future.

Ten years later—after getting married, obtaining a degree in economics from a good Brazilian university, serving as a young bishop, and becoming the father of three small children—I was back in Utah with my family. I was then an MBA student under scholarship at the Marriott School of Management. Now, finally, I was here as a real student, entering to learn. But it was not easy.

At this point I want to empathize with students going through a tough time to get good grades or with those who are not as successful as they would like to be. Please don’t get discouraged, or even if you get discouraged, don’t stay that way for too long. Some school classes and some degrees are not as easy for some as they are for others. I was in the not-easy-for-some group. I know the feeling of receiving below-average grades, of being left behind when study groups are formed, and of taking days to get an assignment done when others would do it in a few hours. I know how it is to feel inadequate to do something or to feel frustrated with your own progress. But I want to assure you that you can do it. If I could do it, you can also do it. When we are willing to pay the price, anything is possible.

I remember how hard it was for me to get the TOEFL and GMAT scores I needed in order to get into the MBA program and to qualify for a BYU scholarship. It took three years for me to get the minimum scores to be accepted. And I almost didn’t make it. Year after year I studied during free evenings and free weekends—always with the same result: almost, almost.

And then one day I received a telephone call from the person responsible for administering the scholarship in Brazil. He told me over the phone: “Carlos, I have good news and bad news for you. The good news is that you are among the three finalists this year. [There was only one scholarship available.] The bad news is that of the other two candidates, one is a son of a General Authority and the other one is a son of a regional representative. The third one is you.”

My answer was, “And me, a son of God.”

Miraculously, that year I got the scholarship and was accepted into the MBA program.

My English ability was enough to barely pass those admission tests, but I can tell you it was not enough to keep up with the bright people in my classes. Most of the time I was behind to a point that some professors recommended I take extra writing- and speaking-English classes. So during my first semester, besides my MBA classes, I took parallel English classes during my free time.

In addition to the second-language challenge, there were also some hard classes that I had to take. I still keep as a reminder of those days a picture of the huge yellow finance book that I hated. It still brings me to tears when I look at it. I remember passing many nights awake studying for tests, preparing case presentations, or ­writing papers while watching through my bedroom window as the snow fell. There is always a price to be paid when we are looking for better results and a better future. I was willing to do my part, although, I must confess, there were many times that I felt tired and discouraged.

At the end of my first year, things started to become easier. English was still a challenge and some classes were still a nightmare, but I felt more prepared for them. I shifted my MBA focus to an organizational behavior major, and things started to become more meaningful to me. At the end of my second year, my grades were finally above average, and after a good summer internship experience, I received one of the best employment offers of my class. Thanks to that offer I was able to go back to Brazil to start the second part of this journey: “Go forth to serve.” I mean: Go forth to fight!

More than 300 adults from across India gathered in Hyderabad on January 17 to 19 to learn how to become more self-reliant, both temporally and spiritually.
“Our goal with this conference,” said John Gutty, manager of Welfare and Self-Reliance Services, “was to teach young people the principles of self-reliance, to encourage them to take charge of their lives, and to put themselves in a position to provide for themselves and to help others.”
Activities on Thursday and Friday were held at the Marigold Hotel and included personality assessment and development, resume writing, interviewing skills, managing personal finances, and setting and reaching educational goals. Saturday was devoted to workshops on spiritual development.
The group was diverse with as many dreams and challenges as attendees. Nagaraj Govindhraj, Naga Sai Kiran Gubbala, and Madan Govindraj all traveled from Chennai to the conference. Each found something that addressed their particular situation.
Nagaraj, 18, whose parents work as cooks, wants to go to college and plans on serving a mission. “We need to be self-reliant, to support ourselves and our families,” he said, “I earn money for my mission working as a cashier and bell boy in a hotel.”
Nagaraj found the workshop on budgeting especially helpful. “At the conference,” he said, “they taught us how to manage money, to think about what we need and how much we spend, and how to live within our means.” He added, “We also learned about how faith in Jesus Christ and obedience to His commandments can create happiness and stability in our lives.”
Gubbala, 27, is a returned missionary and works as a senior process assistant in a call center. He is thinking about looking for a new job. “I realized that I need to update my resume,” he said. “I also learned what to expect in an interview and how to present myself.” Gubbala also liked learning about the spiritual aspects of self-reliance, like finding the right partner to establish a strong and stable marriage.
Madan, aged 24, is working in Bangalore. He has a diploma in computer engineering and has been doing marketing for a nongovernmental organization while studying through BYU-Pathway Worldwide, an online certificate and degree program offered through Brigham Young University-Idaho. He hopes to eventually earn a master’s degree.
“At the conference, I learned how to go for a better job while studying and how to find jobs in sectors related to my field,” he said. “I also learned how to handle the stress of working and going to school at the same time, which was very helpful.”
Saturday’s sessions were held at the Hyderabad stake center and included presentations about missionary work, family history, institute, and choosing an eternal companion. Anjali Barunal from Delhi said, “I felt the Holy Spirit testify to me that I can do my family history and provide temple ordinances for my ancestors.” Her favorite workshop was the one on eternal marriage where she learned how important it is to date and marry a worthy priesthood holder.
Participants also learned that living a self-reliant life includes serving others. The conference ended with a blood donation drive organized in conjunction with the Indian Red Cross Society. Priya, aged 20, felt that this was a perfect way to conclude her experience in Hyderabad. “Donating blood is the best gift one can give,” she said. “I am happy to share the blessing of my good health with those in need.”

However, just because we have a spirit of gratitude, faith in the Savior, and pray sincerely does not mean we will not have trials and hard times. We learn and grow from the experiences we have here in mortality. I grew up with wonderful parents that exemplified the gospel. My mother taught Spanish and my father was a civil engineer. My father was big and strong. When I was young I loved to have him throw me up in the air then catch me laughing. He carried me on his shoulders and showed me the world. Later he carried his grandchildren the same way.
When I was about six I realized that he was one of the kindest people in the world. One day as we stood in line for an ice cream cone he left me with my sister and walked past the angry customers to the front of the line. He quietly told the frustrated clerk that he would pay the difference between the handful of pennies a messy little boy had spread on the counter and the food the boy had ordered. It was a small thing really, maybe a few dollars, but it made a huge impact on me. I first began to understand the love of the Savior because of the love my father showed.
About a month ago my father died. We had 12 hours from the time that the Life Flight helicopter landed at the hospital for my family to gather. Machines surrounded his bed in the critical care unit. They buzzed and cried out while they traced the electronic patterns of his failing body. At the end, I stood at his bedside with my mother and my sisters, my husband and my children, and we wept. At that moment everything else fell away—all concern with pretense, or positions, or possessions did not matter. The only things that remained important were the covenants that held my family together and the Savior's victory over death.
The next Friday, after work, I walked along the snow-packed streets of Rexburg. I would like to thank the many BYU-Idaho students who stopped to offer me a ride. I'm sure I looked cold walking in the snow and slush, but despite the skirt I was wearing I just felt the need to walk and think. No one could see the invisible hurt and sorrow I was carrying. When I looked up through the swirling flakes I could see the temple, creamy white in the snow. But instead of peace, questions machine-gunned into my mind, not because I doubt, but because I hurt. Where was my father? Is the gospel real? Can these covenants really keep us safe? How will I help my mother? Where is hope? Will this winter ever end? By the time I got home I was numb, even more in my heart than in my toes. I talked, walked, made dinner, and slept numb.
In the morning the sun rose. Outside, as I ran past the snowfields, answers came. Past the despair and pain that seemed to hang in the air, I could breathe in the hope given through the Atonement. Through the Savior's sacrifice my heart could beat, my lungs could fill, and blood could circulate without collapsing under the weight of forever losing someone I loved, because of the Atonement; because of the covenants my father and mother made and spent their lives keeping; because of the covenants I have made and am striving to keep, we can be united as a family again. The Savior and Redeemer knows perfectly how to succor us.

Mary Ann Young and her children were equally ill when Brigham left on the same mission, and their financial situation was equally precarious. One heartrending description describes her crossing the Mississippi River in the bitter of winter, thinly clad and shivering with cold, clutching her infant daughter as she went, going to the tithing office in Nauvoo to ask for a few potatoes. Then, still suffering with fever, she made her way with the baby back across the forbidding river, never to write a word to her husband about such difficulties.

My dad is not a member of the Church, so when I decided to be baptized I talked with him and told him why I wanted very much to be baptized and become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Eventually he talked to the missionaries and gave his consent, and I was baptized on 8 June 1997.
I am glad I was able to talk to my dad about why I wanted to be baptized. I am glad my mom talked to me about going to church and encouraged me to attend.

Three weeks after my baptism and confirmation, Bishop Ayala interviewed me and asked how I was progressing. I replied, “Very well. I have finished reading the Book of Mormon for the second time. I’m also reading the Gospel Principles manual so I can learn more and put into practice what I’m reading.”
Then he said, “Your Heavenly Father is mindful of you and is calling you to be a Sunday School teacher for the youth ages 14 to 17.”
Immediately I realized that several of the youth in the class, who were just a few years younger than I was, had been raised in the Church and knew the gospel better than I did.
I said to him, “I’m not ready for this kind of an assignment.”
The bishop replied, speaking very deliberately, “Roberto, Heavenly Father is the one extending this calling to you. He knows your abilities and your faithfulness.”
“I’m simply not prepared. I need more time,” I persisted.
The bishop looked straight into my eyes and said serenely but in a strong voice, “If you feel you can’t accept this calling, you shouldn’t tell me. Kneel down and tell your Heavenly Father. He will answer you, and I will accept your decision.”
A prolonged silence followed. Then, looking at me the way a father looks at his son, he said, “Roberto, this isn’t a church of cowards; it is a church of courageous people.”
My heart was suddenly contrite. With tears in my eyes and a voice filled with emotion, I said, “Bishop, when do I start?”
He embraced me, slapped me on the back, and said, “I’m going to help you prepare your first lesson this week.”
I was filled with joy to know that Heavenly Father had given me such a special leader, a bishop who taught not only by word but by example.
I remembered this experience often during my mission and while serving in other callings. I think of it now and feel grateful to Heavenly Father to be a member of the Lord’s Church.
Roberto Carlos Pacheco Pretel, Peru

A lot of young men find ways to pay for their missions. But Patric Balck has found what he calls “an ideal place to work.”
Patric, 18, a newly ordained elder in the Handen Ward, is a groundskeeper and apprentice gardener at the Stockholm Temple. For four years now, he has spent his working hours mowing lawns, trimming trees and bushes, and tending flowers, all under the direction of the head groundskeeper.
“It’s more than just a job,” Patric says. “It gives me an opportunity to talk to nonmember friends and tourists. I’ve given out copies of the Book of Mormon. I try to make people who visit the grounds feel at home. And, of course, I try to make sure the grounds look good.”
Patric says the temple is a wonderful place to work, “because of the calm feeling that is always here.” He says he notices a new interest in religion among young people in Sweden, and that he’s eager to serve a mission and find out if that same interest is growing elsewhere.
Editor’s note: Since this story was written, Patric has received his call and is currently serving in the Idaho Boise Mission.

“I’m just a man like you,” the voice replied. “I’m in an adjacent chamber. When I lived on Earth I was called Desmond Jeffress.”
“Desmond Jeffress?”
“My, but that is sweet. That’s the first time I’ve heard my name spoken in more than 300 years.”
“You’ve been in space that long?” I asked, gasping at so profound a claim. Only the reality of hyperspace would allow such a thing.
The voice simply answered, “Yes.”
Looking directly at me with soft, brown eyes, he said, “I’m dying. I’ve lived more than 300 years, and I’ve barely an hour left.”
“I’m sure,” he responded. “That’s why I sent the SOS. I didn’t want to die alone, and, more important, I didn’t want to have lived in vain.”
“Three centuries before you were born I began my chronicle of the universe. Though there are countless planets, stars, and galaxies that I have never approached, I have nevertheless chronicled a total of 237 galaxies with 100 trillion stars and 600 trillion planets. I was able to visit exactly 200,000 of those planets, if only for a moment. If it sounds like I’ve been busy, I have. Never for an instant have I been idle. My last wish was to see all that I have learned safely delivered into another human’s hands. Since that is now assured, I should be able to die knowing that my life was not in vain. Still … still, something is not right.” He paused a moment, wheezing slightly. “I should feel at peace, but instead I’m more anxious than before.”
“Do you know why?” I asked.
“I believe,” he said, “that my mind is still troubled on one matter, on one foolish little matter.”
“What is that?”
“I had,” the old man recalled, “before I went into space, been somewhat of an atheist. I’ve always been analytic and cannot accept anything as true until it has been proven by experimentation. Not long after my voyages began, I found myself believing in God. I had become aware of a pattern, of a design in the universe, and observing mankind’s potential to control it, I felt a relationship, a descendency if you will, with some remarkably infinite power, maybe even a living, tangible being.
“From then on all of my experiments and voyages, of which my journals and chronicles became but by-products, were whole-hearted efforts to prove the existence and nature of God. All my knowledge was continually applied to this single purpose. I was determined to prove God, so that I could know, and not just feel, that he lives.
“However, despite all of my efforts, the most powerful evidence was nothing more than a strong indication of what I believed. It always left room for doubt.
“I’ve been almost everywhere and seen almost everything, and still have no proof that God exists. I’m a scientist believing something with no definite proof of its validity. That is my anxiety.”
“Have you ever asked God?” I inquired.
“How is that done?” he replied.
I then proceeded to bear my testimony to him. My testimony of God, that he is the Creator, that he is everyone’s Father in Heaven, of the premortal existence, of the plan of salvation, and of the atonement of Christ, and that Jesus is the Only Begotten Son of God; my testimony of all these things fell from my lips with more power than it ever had before.
We talked. In the short time available, our conversation must have touched upon nearly every principle of the gospel.
I told him that I did not just believe the things I’d said. I explained that I knew them by the power of the Holy Ghost, through prayer, that being the only way that anyone could know.
He then prayed one of the most fervent prayers that I’ve ever heard. He ignored my presence in the room as the words of supplication rolled smoothly off from his tongue, and when he ended his prayer, he knew! One quick glance at his tear-washed eyes and it was clear: he knew!
He looked up, right at me, and he said, “Young man, contained in this spacecraft is knowledge accumulated from more than three centuries of constant research, as I traveled from one galaxy to another, and never has it meant more to me than it does now.”
His eyes held mine in a firm stare as he continued, “The knowledge that you have shared with me for the last hour is more important than all the rest of the knowledge I’ve gathered put together. Thank you,” he said.
The moment that he finished uttering those words his final breath wheezed from his lungs. Silence permeated the air.

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

Blair: I grew up in the Church and have a testimony. However, there is a part of my life that few people know. At age seven I often saw a pornographic poster on a teenage neighbor’s wall. It left an impression in my mind that I could not forget. Unworthy thoughts led me to develop an unworthy habit I felt I couldn’t break.
Ryan: When I was about 12 years old I went to a friend’s house and found him and a bunch of neighborhood boys gathered around the computer. I joked, “Hey, are you guys looking at pornography?”
They said, “How did you guess? Come check this out.”
That was the beginning of a problem in my life. I soon began using our family computer to find more and more images.
Rob: You usually don’t realize you have a problem until you are in so deep you can no longer see the light. That’s what happened with me. I was curious and justified my involvement with pornography by reminding myself that guys at school were involved with it too, and it didn’t seem like a big problem for them.
Pornography first appeals to curiosity. Somehow, just looking doesn’t seem all that dangerous. Every one of us has gone into a store just to look—not to buy. But this is a huge store, with almost unlimited merchandise. Once we are in the store, the invitations to satisfy our curiosity are endless. And so curiosity is never satisfied.
There are lots of things in life—like rattlesnakes or abandoned mine shafts or drugs—that we may be curious about. But knowing how dangerous they are, we walk away or leave the party or turn off the computer.
Actually, with pornography, there is no such thing as “just looking.” Looking is the problem. Viewing pornography triggers sexual feelings. We can easily get hooked on those pleasurable feelings, especially if they seem to relieve stress or anxiety—and we can start a cycle of addiction just as difficult to break as an addiction to drugs or alcohol.
Rob: Curiosity turned to interest, and interest developed into a strong habit. Soon I was addicted. I would get home from school, go straight to the computer, and be there for hours. My social life suffered. So did my schoolwork, family ties, and—most important—my spirituality.
At the very time I most needed the promptings of the Spirit in my life, I was less and less able to feel anything. Life became a constant struggle against depression.
My soul hungered, and the only thing I fed it offered no nourishment. I would get discouraged with myself, so I would delve into pornography to feel better. But the pornography would upset me even more.
Guilt, fear, and depression are common emotions for those involved with pornography—guilt, because they know what they are doing is wrong; fear, because they are terrified their secret will be found out; and depression, because they no longer feel the Spirit. Relationships with family, friends, Church leaders, and the Lord are damaged.
Blair: My self-confidence dwindled in church, school, and everywhere. Many times I felt very alone, awkward, and unworthy. If a girl liked me, I would think, “She wouldn’t like me if she really knew me.” I would shy away from being social.
Rob: Through all those years I attended church, but I was mentally inactive. I kept going to church so I wouldn’t upset my parents. But I knew the lifestyle I was caught up in was wrong. I noticed a change in my own countenance day by day, year by year. I became calloused and hardened. I found myself lying to my parents, my bishop, everyone around me. Inside I was going through personal turmoil and spiritual torment.
As these young men struggled with their addiction to pornography, each tried to overcome it on his own. But like a hiker trapped in a dangerous crevice, each needed help. Talking to the bishop became the key to changing the direction of their lives.
Blair: I prayed for strength to leave these temptations alone. I made a list of things such as prayer, scriptures, and clean thoughts that would help me draw close to God. But although I worked hard, it didn’t solve my problems.
The thought of confessing to the bishop made me cringe. I felt it would be better to tell the bishop about the problem when it was in the past. But I finally realized it wasn’t ever going to be in the past if I did not confess. If God already knew my struggles and I felt comfortable talking about them in prayer, why not talk face to face with God’s servant? Once I finally decided to confess, I felt a reassuring peace that it was the right thing to do.
If you are using pornography, you are not morally clean, even if you haven’t done anything else immoral. Rob talks about realizing he wasn’t worthy to go to the temple or on a mission.
Rob: I humbly bowed before the Lord in tears and pleaded for strength beyond my own. Night after night I prayed, and finally I knew I had to talk to my bishop about it. That was the hardest part—admitting to someone else that I had a problem. I kept thinking I could handle it myself and no one would ever have to know. I wanted it to be something just between God and me. But I finally matured to a point where I realized that was impossible. I approached my bishop and began a long and difficult repentance process.
Repentance may be difficult, but it is also comforting and filled with hope.
Speaking of those who struggle with pornography, one bishop says: “Help is available. The repentance process is just that—a process. It takes time to break negative patterns, and each small victory must be acknowledged, reinforced, and celebrated along the way. Sometimes those I have worked with still struggle, but at least they are not hiding anymore. They have begun to build a support system. They have realized they don’t have to face this challenge alone.”
A former bishop explains: “Besides my own family, I don’t think I loved anyone in my ward quite as much as I loved those who came to me with broken hearts, seeking forgiveness and peace. They cared more about what the Lord thought of them than what any person thought. I respected their courage and desire to make things right. I shed tears over them. I rejoiced when they were clean and whole again. And afterward I never looked at them as former sinners—only as beloved brothers and sisters.”
“Trust in the Lord,” counseled Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. “He knows what He is doing. He already knows of your problems. And He is waiting for you to ask for help” (“Trust in the Lord,” Ensign, May 1989, 36).
I felt relief when I stopped pretending. Sharing the burden with my bishop and my family meant I no longer had to deal with this addiction alone. Now I hold on to this support system.
A problem that dominated my youth could not be overcome overnight. This road has been long and hard—and it continues. It isn’t enough anymore to look happy. I want to be happy. I am coming to know Christ and to understand the Atonement. The Savior gives me the strength I need so my self-confidence and self-respect grow each day.
I was honest with my bishop. And when my dad talked to me, I was honest with him too. We worked on the problem together. We decided not to have the Internet in our home for a while. That was a big help.
I’m turning 16 soon, and I’m glad I decided not to let pornography control my life. I feel better about myself, and I think about young women differently than I did before. With my bishop’s help, I’m preparing now for the temple, a mission, and a great marriage one day.
It took a lot of time and sincere effort to break bad habits. Eventually I was judged by my priesthood leader as worthy to serve a mission. The best feeling in the world was to go to the temple and know I am clean. The Spirit I wanted to feel during all those teenage years came flooding into my heart and life. I am so thankful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
The adversary still works on me, trying to get me to backslide. But I have learned to put on the armor of God every day. I know Jesus Christ loves me, and I love Him.

Today, I want to share a lesson I learned with our daughter over 10 years ago that might help you become the person the Lord wants you to become.
Maria Jesus was a big fan of the band One Direction. When she was 14 years old, she found out they were going to Chile and begged to go to the concert; she even made a list of commitments and a contract. For us as parents, it was an excellent opportunity to work with her on the things she needed to improve, like her grades and keeping her room clean and organized, for example. So, she made a list of the things she was committing to. Tickets were bought one year before the concert. (I need to mention that she kept all her commitments and did a fantastic job.)
The day of the concert finally came and after many hours in line to get into the stadium, she went in and enjoyed the two hours the concert lasted. You could see the joy in her face.
The following day, Maria Jesus cried all day long. Even though she had a wonderful time, she was sad and felt empty; what she had worked hard for was now over. In fact, we found out that many who had attended the concert went through the same.
Maria Jesus learned a couple of big lessons that year:
My dear friends, fill your life with spiritual things, the things that matter most and will bring eternal joy.

He was tarred and feathered, beaten, driven, hated, cast out, “persecuted for righteousness’ sake.” (Matt. 5:10.) He spent months in the vile prisons of his day and was the victim of scores of false and malicious prosecutions. Once he and a small group of associates were prisoners of a mob-militia. On November 1, 1838, a pretended court martial—which ranks in infamy and illegality with the trial of Jesus before Pilate—sentenced the group to death. The order given was as follows:
“Brigadier General Doniphan:
“Sir:—You will take Joseph Smith and the other prisoners into the public square at Far West, and shoot them at 9 o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“[Signed] Samuel D. Lucas,”
“Major General Commanding.”
General Doniphan defied his commanding officer. With a boldness born of indignant justice he replied:
“It is cold blooded murder. I will not obey your order. My brigade shall march for Liberty tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock; and if you execute these men, I will hold you responsible before an earthly tribunal, so help me God.”
“[Signed] A. W. Doniphan,”
“Brigadier General.”
(Essentials, p. 241.)

The personal miracle I speak of had its earliest beginnings with the Prophet Joseph. He introduced the concept of constructing temples where sacred ordinances and instruction could be received. You’ll remember the first temple was built at great sacrifice in Kirtland, Ohio. It was completed and dedicated in 1836.

The saints had hoped to build additional temples; but, during the next few years, circumstances prevented them from doing so. In 1839, the main body of the Church moved to a bend on the Mississippi River known as Commerce. Now it is known as Nauvoo, meaning beautiful.

Under the direction of the Prophet Joseph, the Saints drained the swampland and created one of the most prosperous and populous cities in the state of Illinois. That was a big miracle.

The following year, plans were underway to construct a temple, a sacred House of the Lord. The Prophet Joseph appointed Brother William Weeks as the architect of the temple. Yet it was the prophet who gave significant instructions regarding the design of the building: “I have seen in a vision the splendid appearance of that building”, he said, “and [I] will have it built according to the pattern shown me.”[6]

An official cornerstone laying ceremony was conducted on April 6, 1841.

In addition to their financial contributions, Church members also gave a tithe of their time – one day in ten to working on the temple. Men labored in the construction areas and women sewed clothing for the workers and provided food, as well as raiment.

Because of donated labor and the donation of many building materials, it is very difficult to accurately calculate the cost of the six-year construction project. However, some estimate that in the monetary value of the time, the temple cost in excess of $1,000,000.00. That was a very big miracle!

Portions of the temple were dedicated and used prior to its completion in the spring of 1846. The first of several public dedication services for the Nauvoo Temple took place on May 1, 1846.

An uncontrolled lawless element forced the Saints to leave Nauvoo, broken-heartedly, leaving their temple behind. In October 1848, an arsonist destroyed the interior of the temple. In May 1850, a tornado knocked down one wall of the gutted structure and weakened the other walls. They were eventually taken down.

Now move forward with me almost 100 years.

In 1937, ninety-one years after the main body of the Church left their beautiful city and headed west, the Church purchased portions of the original temple site in Nauvoo. Over the next half a century, other properties, formerly owned by the Church and its members, were purchased and restored.

One day in early 1999, at the conclusion of a regular Temple Sites Meeting, President Hinckley mentioned that he was very seriously considering rebuilding the Nauvoo Temple. He said something like, “My father wanted to rebuild it back in 1946, when he was serving as President of the Northern States mission. Father actually wrote a letter to the First Presidency and he was turned down. Now you brethren, Elder Sorensen and Bishop McMullin and your associates, need to find a way to reconstruct the temple. The plans we have in the historical department are inadequate and incomplete.”

In April 1999, President Hinckley announced the Church would rebuild the Nauvoo Temple on the original site. He said, "The new building will stand as a memorial to those who built the first such structure."[7]

Groundbreaking ceremonies for the temple took place on October 24, 1999. "A sense of joy and spirituality returned to the Temple Lot,” wrote a newspaper columnist."[8]

Traditional cornerstone ceremonies were conducted on November 5, 2000. Under priesthood direction, prayers and talks were given on each of the four cornerstones. This tradition dated back to April 6, 1841, the original Nauvoo Temple dedication date, in the days of the Prophet, Joseph.

The dedication of the restored Nauvoo Temple commenced on June 27, 2002. It was the 158th anniversary of the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph Smith and his faithful brother, Hyrum. The limestone exterior of the restored temple is a near duplicate of the original temple, including the design elements.

The restored building has six floors, circular stairs, and is crowned with an upright statue of the Angel Moroni with the trumpet in his hand.

This is a facsimile of the original Angel Moroni that adorned the first temple until it was destroyed.

Yet, 150 years later, Sister Sorensen and I and several members of our family were at the dedication of a beautiful temple, the exact replica of what once was, in that beautiful city, Nauvoo, being led by a Prophet of God, Gordon B. Hinckley. We were now a prosperous and blessed people. His watchful eye had prevailed.

The terrible sacrifice and loss of those early saints made everything possible. In that moment, when everything seemed lost, everything was actually being won. As real as the suffering was, Heavenly Father was working in His mysterious way to bring to pass a great miracle.

The first and most important truth about navigating this journey is that you are not alone. Heavenly Father and the Savior will always strengthen us as we turn to Them. There were times when Kay was struggling so much, and I (Stephen) was so exhausted. She didn’t know who I was for three years, and every day was painful. Sometimes I look back and wonder how I managed to get through those difficult times, and then I realize I was only able to endure the pain by fully relying on the Savior (see Matthew 11:28–29).

Always remember that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are very much aware of what you are going through. President Henry B. Eyring, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, reminded us of this truth: “You are being nourished and comforted by a loving Savior, who knows how to succor you in whatever tests you face.”1 Regularly make time for prayer and temple attendance, and invite the Spirit into your home. As you do, you will find guidance, peace, and the sustaining strength you need to keep moving forward.

Several years ago I interviewed a young woman for a temple recommend to receive her own endowment and to be married and sealed for time and all eternity. As I completed the interview and signed the recommend, tears were streaming down her cheeks. I said, “Please share with me your feelings.” Then she told me the following story.
Since her youth she had sought to find truth and direction in her life. She had yearned to find peace and happiness, but no matter where she looked, she could not find it. It had come to a point where she was very distraught, assuming there was really nothing in life that had true meaning or was fulfilling. In this frame of mind, one evening while visiting a dear friend and recounting her concerns and despair she said: “I looked behind the sofa where I was sitting to the bookshelf. My eyes fell upon a particular volume, and a compelling feeling came over me. I knew I needed to find out what was written on its pages.”
She took the book from the shelf and read the title, the Book of Mormon. She asked her friend where she had received it. Her friend indicated that two young missionaries stopped her on the street and gave her the book but only after a commitment to read it. Due to a lack of time, she had just put it on the shelf.
“I started to read,” she said. “I could not put it down.” A feeling came over her that she had never felt before. Her friend told her that she could take the book with her. She went home and continued to read through the night. The next morning she went into the streets looking for the two young missionaries. It didn’t take long to find them. They agreed to teach her the gospel, and in a few weeks she was baptized a member of the Church.
Through her tears, she explained that since that day she had found a joy and inner peace that she never dreamed possible.
Living in a small town with few members and even fewer opportunities to marry in the Church, she didn’t dare hope that she might one day marry in the temple. But she felt it was through the guidance of the Holy Spirit that she met a young man while vacationing in another country. He was a member of the Church and honored his priesthood. They had fallen in love, and he had asked her to marry him in the temple. The realization that she could now go to the house of the Lord and be sealed for time and all eternity brought joy to her soul and feelings of thankfulness and gratitude that were overwhelming and impossible to describe.
“I continue to ask myself,” she said, “‘Why me? Why me?’ I am so blessed.”
Her humble, sweet spirit and testimony touched me deeply. As she left, we both shed tears of joy and appreciation.