Gospel Story Finder

When Ben Pantoja of Santiago, Chile, was six years old, his parents went to a nearby city to buy groceries for the family. After they had gone, Ben’s eight-year-old brother said, “Let’s go get an ice cream cone.”
Now, an ice cream cone for Ben and his little sister Mercedes was a special treat. They asked their brother what they would do for money. He said their father had told him if they wanted a treat he could take the money from the chest where they kept the family budget. Ben knew in his heart that was not the truth, but the anticipation of the ice cream overwhelmed his sense of what was right.
They had their ice cream cone. When their parents returned home, Ben’s mother went to the chest to return the change from their trip to the market and noticed that money was missing. The children were questioned and the truth discovered.
Ben Pantoja made up his mind that night that he would never be dishonest again, that he would never go contrary to what he knew to be right. Today he is one of the Lord’s chosen leaders in South America because he has kept his resolve.
When Ben made the decision that he would never be dishonest, he established a limit he would not break.

It was December 23rd. The mall was dead after an exhausting day. My legs ached after walking the aisles all day at the music store where I worked.
My heart was warmed by the true spirit of Christmas evidenced by the light and laughter dancing in people’s eyes as they searched for gifts to show their love to those they adore.
I had also discovered the joy of giving. My only problem was I didn’t like shopping. Why was I working at the mall, then? The employee’s discount helped.
After the metal gate was partway down, signaling that we were closed, I got out the CDs I had selected for my brother and sister. I had tucked away the exact amount. It was the last of my money until my next paycheck. The money, $26 and change, was all I had and all I needed.
Just as I was about to complete my transaction, a little girl walked in. She was so little she had no need to duck under the metal gate.
I put down my CDs and asked, “Can I help you?”
She explained that her little brother wanted a popular cartoon video for Christmas, but all the stores were sold out.
“Well,” I said, “you’re in luck.”
Her face brightened as she exclaimed, “You mean you have one?”
It was always a fulfilling thing for me to take the customer right to the item they had been searching for. Straight to the video we went.
She saw it and ran toward it before I had a chance to get it. “This is the one I’ve looked for!” Carefully she turned the video over, looking at the cartoon figures on the back. It was then that I saw the price: $24.99.
Her eyes also migrated to the price sticker. “Is this enough?” she innocently asked, holding out her mittened hand that clasped some very crumpled dollar bills and change.
I took the warm dollars and smoothed them out slowly, hoping that they would multiply themselves somehow.
“Is it enough?” she asked again. I didn’t say anything. How could I tell her?
Large tears welled up in her eyes as she realized why I kept silent. Discouragement washed over her face. With a sigh she asked, “What can I buy with this much?”
In the store there was no gift that six dollars and some change could buy—trust me; I looked. The only option, if she was to have her video, was for me to help her pay for it. Yet, if I did that, I would then be in her predicament: no presents with only six dollars and change.
A scripture came to my mind: “Knowest thou the condescension of God?” (1 Nephi 11:16). In my mind, I envisioned Christ descending from His heavenly throne, causing the tears of our shortcomings to be turned to tears of joy through His Atonement and payment of our deficit.
For the little girl it may have only been a moment, but for me that time of contemplation was a turning point. I saw a level of the glad tidings of great joy that I had left undiscovered.
I got down on my knees, at her level, and said, “You know, there is a way your brother can have his movie.”
A huge smile banished all sorrow from her face. “How?” she asked.
I took the clean, crisp $20 bill from my wallet and handed it to her. Through my new perception, I happily and thankfully watched her skip to the counter. Already on my knees, I took the opportunity to thank Heavenly Father for my Savior and His gift, which He taught me affectionately that night.
Can you put a price on a great understanding of the Atonement? I think not. I still lacked gifts for my siblings, except for some cheap demo CDs the music store was giving away. Though they weren’t what I had originally wanted to give, what they represented to me made them the best presents I’ve ever given.

He was still only a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, but Grandpa (Lorenzo Snow) was president of the Salt Lake Temple, so Chauncey was ordained an elder and received his endowments. He also participated in baptisms for the dead. He enjoyed almost a unique opportunity to examine the interior of the Temple:
“We started to see the interior of the Temple at one o’clock and went in the six towers as far as we could safely get. We went almost to the top of the west, middle tower, up past the last strait projection. I never care to be in a nicer place than the Temple. When we came back down, I sat in the chair made for the President of the Temple (my Grandpa). It was as soft and easy as life could wish to rest upon. I walked over the top of the Temple. We came out after 3 hours of walking and seeing. I went through as thoroughly as anybody and more than visitors and workers.”
The next day, too, he spent time looking through the Temple, “and enjoyed myself very much under its holy roof.”

For the next seven years, Daniel and Thérèse served faithfully as the Church grew in their country. Like others in DR Congo’s first generation of Latter-day Saints, they learned step-by-step. In 1996, Congolese Church leaders were challenged to take the next step in their development. Although Kinshasa was nearly 4,000 kilometres from the nearest temple, in Johannesburg, South Africa, a group of over 20 local leaders were invited to travel to the temple together to be endowed with power from heaven and sealed to their spouses for eternity. It was the first group temple trip in Congo’s history.
The years after the temple trip were vital ones for the Church in Congo. In the late 1990s, stake after stake was organized in the country. Most of the men first called as stake presidents, including Daniel Kola, had participated in that temple caravan.
In 2007, Daniel Kola was called as an Area Seventy. The next year, he travelled to Utah to attend general conference and was blessed to attend the temple an additional five times to perform initiatory, endowment, and sealing ordinances for his ancestors, including being sealed to his own parents. “When I received my endowment, there was a lot I didn’t understand,” Kola reflected. “But today, I understand, and my knowledge is much more profound.”
As he developed a deeper appreciation for the temple, Kola also developed a greater interest in family history. Along with many others, he came to recognize that he lived at a crucial time, when the names and stories of many ancestors were still in living memory but at risk of being lost if they were not recorded. In 2018, Daniel Kola’s nonprofit organization contracted with FamilySearch to travel around the Democratic Republic of the Congo recording oral histories, aiming to gather 400,000 names in 12 months.

Some are overcome by major problems; others let small matters become big. Symonds Ryder was a Campbellite leader who heard about the Church and had a meeting with Joseph Smith. Moved by this experience, he joined the Church in June 1831. Immediately thereafter, he was ordained an elder and called to serve a mission. However, in his call letter from the First Presidency and on his official commission to preach, his name was misspelled—by one letter. His last name showed as R-i-d-e-r, not the correct R-y-d-e-r. This caused him to question his call and those from whom it came. He chose not to go on the mission and fell away, which soon led to hatred and intense opposition toward Joseph and the Church. In March 1832, when Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon were ripped from home during the night by an angry mob and tarred and feathered, a voice was heard to shout, “Simonds, Simonds [sic], where’s the tar bucket?” (History of the Church, 1:262–63). In less than 10 months, Symonds Ryder went from an eager convert to a mob leader, his spiritual decline starting with the offense taken over the misspelling of his name—by one letter. No matter the size of the issue, how we respond can reset the course of our life.

Janetta pulled the quilt close around her shoulders and shuddered. Even with its comfort and the warmth from the fire, she felt cold.
“Janna!” her little brother wailed from the lean-to. “I had a bad dream!”
“Come here,” she called softly, holding out her arms. He climbed onto her lap and snuggled down to sleep again. Soon the warmth from his small body flowed into hers and they were both warm.
James whimpered in his sleep, and she rocked him gently. His nightmares had begun this last year. It had been a year especially full of things that could disturb a three year old.
She looked away from their fire across the mighty Mississippi to Nauvoo, where she could see the distant flicker of fires that surrounded the temple where men were still working.
That was “her” temple. She felt a pride in it because she had helped build it. With her mother, she had cooked food and made clothes for the families of those who worked on the temple.
That was how she’d met her best friend, Sarah. One day when Janetta was delivering supper to some workers, she ran right into a girl her own age and knocked her down. When the girl got up, she put her hands on her hips and said, “Well, this is a fine way to meet a new friend.” She grinned at Janetta, then stuck out her hand. “I’m Sarah, and I’m new to the city.”
Janetta shook her hand. “I’m Janetta, and I’ve been here since the beginning.”
It was a great friendship. They giggled together as they spun wool, carded it, and knit through the long winter days. They were proud that men working on the Lord’s temple wore their socks.
Janetta looked again at the flickering lights and felt sadness creep in. Her father had left before the temple walls were up. Their family had never had the opportunity to go inside to be sealed together as a family.
The worst of the trouble had started the summer before, when the Prophet Joseph was killed. Everyone was numb from the tragedy. It was as if a cloud of darkness covered their beautiful city—only there weren’t any clouds.
With tears streaming down their cheeks, Sarah and Janetta had stood hand in hand as the bodies of the Prophet and his brother Hyrum passed by in a wagon coming from Carthage. Later, after the bodies had been prepared at the Mansion House, her parents stood in line to view them.
As the sorrow lessened, some of the Saints became confused. Rumors circulated in the city that the Church was doomed. Some predicted that the temple would never be finished. Several men claimed to be the next leader of the Church.
Janetta was troubled by the confusion. “Father,” she asked one day, “what will happen now? Who will lead the Church?”
Her father took her in his strong arms and hugged her. “This Church was true while Joseph lived, and it’s true now that he’s dead. It’s the Savior’s Church, and He’ll provide a leader for us. We’ll listen to the Brethren and follow what they say. There’s a meeting in the grove tomorrow, and Brother Brigham will tell us what’s right.”
The next day the Saints eagerly gathered at the grove. The first speaker was Sidney Rigdon. Janetta listened very carefully, for he claimed to be the proper leader of the Church. He talked on and on. The more he talked, the more she fidgeted and the worse she felt. She looked over at Sarah and caught her eye. When Sarah winked at Janetta, they both tried hard not to giggle,
Finally Sidney Rigdon sat down and Brigham Young closed the meeting. He announced another meeting under the direction of the Apostles at two o’clock.
Janetta and her parents hurried home and put James down for a nap. Leaving a neighbor to watch him, the three hurried back to the second meeting. Even though they were early, the only seats left were way in the back. Janetta was too short to see over people, but she could still hear the speakers.
Brigham Young stood up and began to speak. Hearing him, she felt a peace fill her. Then suddenly she jumped up and craned to see over the heads of the people in front of her. She thought she had heard the Prophet Joseph!
A blind man sitting beside her jumped up too. “That’s Joseph speaking to us. Surely he’s not dead!”
The extraordinary effect lasted only for seconds, but the people knew that Brigham Young had been chosen to lead the Church. They all listened very carefully to every word that he said.
When the meeting was over, Janetta hurried to find Sarah. “Did you hear him?” she asked excitedly. “He sounded just like the Prophet.”
“I not only heard him,” Sarah answered softly, “I saw him. It was like Brother Joseph was standing right there before us.”
The girls were silent for a moment as they reverently thought of what they’d just witnessed.
“I’ll never forget this,” Janetta whispered. “Brother Young is our prophet now. We can safely do everything he tells us to do.”
Soon after that memorable meeting, her father’s name was read as one of the missionaries called to go on a mission. Afterward the family wept together. They were proud that he was worthy to be called, but sad that he was leaving.
Then one crisp autumn morning Janetta kissed her father good-bye. They parted not knowing when or where they’d meet again. But they all knew that the Lord would protect them and reunite them, if not in this life then in the next.
“Janetta,” her mother said now, interrupting her thoughts, “I’m home. Let me take James and put him back to bed. You must be exhausted. Go to sleep.”
Janetta smiled at her mother. Here they were, camped on the bank of the river, with no roof over their heads, and yet her mother called it home. “Did Sister Brown have her baby?”
“Yes, a fine boy,” Mother answered happily. She warmed her hands by the fire. “I think he’ll be all right, even if he was born in the middle of the wide open spaces.” She turned to her daughter. “Go get some rest. We’ll be leaving early in the morning.”
“I can’t sleep,” Janetta answered sadly. “I keep thinking about our old home. I wonder who’s sleeping all warm and cozy in my bed.”
“I loved that house, too,” her mother answered softly. “Your father built it carefully to shelter us and make us happy. But we’ll be better off far away from the mobs, where we can be safe.”
Janetta continued to stare into the dying flames of the fire. Sleep and comfort seemed far-off.
Her mother rummaged around in their bags for their treasured copy of the Book of Mormon. She began softly to read aloud. At first Janetta only listened to her voice, not to the words. Then the words began to sink in. They told of Lehi and his family, who had left all their worldly goods in Jerusalem and fled into the wilderness.
Mother stopped reading. “It seems we’re in good company,” she said and smiled at her daughter. “We’re not the only ones of the Lord’s people who have had to leave their homes.”
Janetta smiled back, feeling the comfort she needed. Together they left the fire and went to their beds. She said her prayers and snuggled into the bed. She knew that the Saints were doing the will of God. She’d had that witness that they were being led by a prophet. It brought her peace.

“I remember more than 30 years ago when I was first called to be a visiting teacher, I was assigned a young woman who never came to church,” recalls Catherine Carr Humphrey of the Hillside Ward, Rancho Cucamonga California Stake. “She impressed me in those early 1970s as a hippie type. I faithfully went every month and knocked on her door. She would open the inside door but leave the screen door shut. I was never really sure what she looked like. She would not say anything. She would just stand there. I would look cheerful and say, ‘Hi, I’m Cathie, your visiting teacher.’ And as she would say nothing, I would say, ‘Well, our lesson today is on …’ and try briefly to say something uplifting and friendly. When I was through, she would say, ‘Thank you,’ and shut the door.
“I did not like going there. I felt embarrassed. But I went because I wanted to be obedient. After about seven or eight months of this, I got a phone call from the bishop.
“‘Cathie,’ he said, ‘the young woman you visit teach just had a baby who lived only a few days. She and her husband are going to have a graveside service, and she asked me to see if you would come and be there with her. She said you are her only friend.’
“I went to the cemetery. The young woman, her husband, the bishop, and I were at the graveside. That was all. I had seen her only once a month for a few minutes at a time. I hadn’t even been able to tell through the screen door that she was expecting a baby, yet even my inept but hopeful visiting had blessed us both.”

“Mom, can I go play?” Kayla asked. “My morning chores are done.”
“Yes, you may,” Mom replied. “Thank you for doing everything so quickly.”
Kayla had been looking forward to summer break. She enjoyed the freedom summer brought. She loved the warm breezes, trying to catch butterflies, and skipping stones in the pond. So far this summer had been perfect, except for one problem.
“Wait for me!” Kayla’s younger sister, Brooke, cried.
Kayla grew frustrated as she waited for Brooke to catch up. “Pretty soon summer will be over, and I’ll have spent the whole time waiting for my sister,” she thought.
Kayla waited while Brooke tied her shoes. She waited while Brooke looked for her butterfly net. And she waited a long time for Brooke to catch a butterfly before they could go inside for lunch.
Things were the same after lunch. Kayla had just learned to ride her bike without training wheels. She loved pedaling hard, then coasting as far as she could. Brooke wanted to ride her tricycle too, but she couldn’t ride nearly as fast. Kayla didn’t feel like waiting anymore.
“Wait for me,” Brooke said as Kayla rode past.
“Zip!” went Kayla on her bicycle. She zipped and whooshed up and down the sidewalk while Brooke tried her hardest to keep up.
After a while, Kayla noticed how quiet it was. She listened nervously. She couldn’t hear Brooke, and she hadn’t seen her for a while. Worried, Kayla looked around the yard. Then she noticed Brooke sitting onthe lawn, frowning.
“I’m trying, but I can’t keep up with you. I give up,” Brooke said as she put her head down and began to cry.
Kayla sat down next to her. She felt terrible. “I’m sorry I left you behind,” she said. “Will you forgive me?”
Brooke looked up but didn’t answer.
“We can ride together,” Kayla said, smiling. “But only if you’ll wait for me.”
Brooke got on her tricycle and Kayla pushed her to the top of the sidewalk. “Now wait here while I get my bike.” Kayla ran down to her bike and quickly rode it back up. Then they coasted down together. Kayla set her bike down and began pushing Brooke back up the sidewalk again. She glanced at her sister, who sat smiling like a princess. Kayla’s frustration was gone. Instead, she felt warm and happy.
They rode together until they were so tired they flopped down in the long green grass. They stayed there and listened to the crickets until Mom called them inside.
Mom had been watching Kayla from the kitchen window. “That was a very unselfish thing you did today, Kayla,” she said, kissing her on the head. “Thank you for taking such good care of your sister. I think you treated her like Jesus would want you to.”
“This has been my best summer day,” Brooke said.
Kayla loved the way she felt inside. “Mine too,” she said.

Soon after, the bishop called me into his office and asked me to prepare to go on a mission. Since I was so shy, the idea overwhelmed me. I stalled.
Another school year ended, and I returned again to Rio Blanco. But I was the only member there, and I felt lonely. If the Church is really true, I reasoned, maybe I should tell others about it. I began to visit my friends and relatives in their homes each day after work to teach them the gospel. Several of them wanted to join the Church. I called mission president John F. O’Donnal and told him that there were eight persons in Rio Blanco ready for baptism. He was delighted to come and make the arrangements.
Like my bishop, President O’Donnal asked me to serve a mission. As a delaying tactic, I explained that there were no priesthood leaders in Rio Blanco. I told him I would go on a mission after he sent someone. He transferred two missionaries there the very next week. So I reluctantly filled out my mission papers.
As I expected, my mission was very demanding. But I have never regretted the decision to serve. Although my father has died, my mother is now a member of the Church, as are all but two of their fourteen living children. Four of their sons have gone on missions, and two more are preparing. Most of us have church callings.

2. It isn’t always easy to get seven children to work in harmony around the home but when their dad can work with them the children just love it and “work” turns into “fun.” Part of this comes because he’s always telling them about the chores he had as a boy and how important it is to like to work.
As a family we plant a garden each spring. We all get involved in preparing the ground, planting the seeds, watering, hoeing, and pulling weeds. Then in the summer and fall each child experiences some part of harvesting the results—pulling radishes, picking berries or corn, digging potatoes, etc.
Neil is very alert for teaching opportunities and compares aspects of gardening to preparing for missions, life after death, the importance of getting proper care and training, destroying the enemy (weeds). Many lessons are taught from the simple things we do each day.

I was born in the town of Sharon, Windsor County, Vermont, on the 23rd of December, A.D. 1805. When ten years old, my parents moved to Palmyra, New York, where we resided about four years, and from thence, we moved to the town of Manchester. My father was a farmer and taught me the art of taking care of animals. When about fourteen years of age, I began to reflect upon the importance of being prepared for a future state, and upon inquiring about the plan of salvation, I found that there was a great clash in religious sentiment; if I went to one society, they referred me to one plan, and another to another; each one pointing to his own particular creed as the supreme good from which all others are derived of perfection. Considering that all could not be right, and that God could not be the author of so much confusion, I determined to investigate the subject more fully, believing that if God had a Church, it would not be split up into factions, and that if He taught one society to worship one way, and administer in one set of ordinances. He would not teach another, principles which were diametrically opposed.
Believing the word of God, I had confidence in the declaration of James—“If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.” (James 1:5.) I retired to a secret place in a grove, and began to call upon the Lord, while fervently engaged in supplication, my mind was taken away from the objects with which I was surrounded, and I was enwrapped in a heavenly vision, and saw two glorious personages, who exactly resembled each other in features and likeness, surrounded with a brilliant light which eclipsed the sun at noon day. They told me that all religious denominations were believing in incorrect doctrines, and that none of them was acknowledged of God as His Church and kingdom: and I was expressly commanded “to go not after them,” at the same time receiving a promise that the fullness of the Gospel should at some future time be made known unto me.

Early in the afternoon of November 9, the wagons of suffering humanity halted in front of the tithing office building, where the Joseph Smith Memorial Building now stands in Salt Lake City. Many arrived with frozen feet and limbs. Sixty-nine had died on the journey. But the promise to the Moulton family in that blessing in England had been fulfilled. Thomas and Sarah Denton Moulton had not lost a child.

Even as the service projects were continuing, chariot construction was in the polishing stages. In the First Ward, the bishop filled in at the service project in place of Dave Holcomb, who had been working on the chariot since 6:00 A.M. At 1:00 P.M., when the vehicle was finally done, the team rolled it down the street to the high school.
“We put a stereo in it, and Brother Charles McClellan, the priests quorum adviser, helped with the wiring and balanced the weight,” Ron Fowler, a priest in the ward, explained. With the stereo playing the racing theme from the movie Ben Hur, the black chariot with gold trim attracted a lot of attention on its way to the stadium. Some people, when they heard there would be a chariot race, followed along out of curiosity.
One of the chariot builders in another ward gave up his bike for a week so he could use its wheels on the chariot. The 23rd Ward modeled a horse’s head out of aluminum foil to mount on the front of its entry.
Younger brothers and sisters were recruited as riders because of their light weight. In the 13th Ward the chariot construction was a family effort, as Phil Dold and his father designed and built their version of a Roman race car. Throughout the stake, Relief Society sisters sewed capes and fabricated helmets for the riders, including remodeled football helmets.
One ward installed carpeting and a CB radio in its chariot. And the Scouts in another ward spent several activity nights learning to weld as they built their entry.
As the racers, fans, and chariots arrived at the high school, the conversation sounded like one between automotive designers. Amateur engineers extolled the virtues of a low center of gravity, discussed pulling handle alignment, and debated the sturdiness of wheel and axle attachment to the frame.
“I thought nobody would be that interested in building the chariots because it would take a lot of time and effort,” said Dave Davis, 17, of the Second Ward. “But everybody really came through.”
Before the actual chariot race, several hours of games, designed for individual and group participation, offered a chance for recreation following a morning of hard work. To allow all of the young people to participate, adults were asked to be in charge of the different events. Colored tickets were used to limit the number of participants in a given activity at a given time.
The first contest was a balloon toss, with partners facing each other in two long lines down the center of the football field. Water-filled balloons were gently thrown between partners until only one couple remained with an unbroken balloon.
Following the balloon toss, ten other games were offered for individual competition. They included: (1) Duffle bag stuffing. With boxing gloves on, the contestant stuffed foam-rubber strips into a duffle bag, racing against the clock. (2) Spray bottle target practice. With a laundry spray bottle, each participant had to knock off a Ping-Pong ball perched atop a soda bottle. (3) Punch-drinking race. Slurping through a rubber tubing “straw” several feet long, the first person to empty a 32-ounce cup was the winner. (4) A gelatin-eating contest, with hands tied behind the back. (5) Marshmallow munching. Without the use of his hands, each contestant tried to be the one who could get the most marshmallows inside his mouth—and then close his lips. (6) Flying marshmallows. While riding a bicycle, the contestant attempted to catch a marshmallow—hung from the goal post on a piece of string—in his mouth. (7) Tricycle races (limited to those too big to ride a tricycle). (8) Blindfolded cotton-picker. A scarf was tied over the participants’ eyes. The object of the game was to spoon the greatest number of cotton balls into a bowl in 30 seconds. A stiff breeze made this a difficult project. (9) An obstacle course, including old tires, hurdles, and barrels to roll in. (10) Chocolate pudding pals. Teams were composed of three people. Two were blindfolded. One of them fed the other the pudding by following the directions of the third, who was not wearing a blindfold.
Each person was free to compete in as many individual events as he desired. These were followed by group games, which included a tug-of-war; a car-stuffing contest (28 crammed themselves into a Volkswagen); a battle over a huge, canvas ball, which could only be tossed over the goal-post by several people working together; and a contest to see how many people would fit in a four-foot circle.
A final contest before the chariot race also served to clean up the field. Each ward was given a large plastic sack, and the team with the most pieces of garbage in the bag at the end of the day was honored at the dance.
At last, the chariots were wheeled into position at the starting line. Two elimination heats of 220 yards apiece narrowed the field of six down to the three fastest teams.
“On your mark, get set, go!” the starter screamed. The speed was as fast as a 50-yard dash. Noise from the audience was so loud that Little League baseball players and their parents rushed from the other side of the school to see what was going on.
About halfway around the track, the all-girl 23rd Ward team fell behind. The other two teams were in a dead heat coming around the final turn.
On both chariots, the sprinters were nearly exhausted. Some, too tired to continue pulling, released the handles and dropped to the side of the track. The 13th Ward had only two men left, plus the rider, as the low-slung chariot pulled ahead of the First Ward’s team by four feet at the finish line.
A large banner with the number 13 on it was thrown into the air. The winners’ friends and families surrounded them, smiling, shaking hands, hugging each other, and saying, “I knew we could do it!”
Then, through the middle of the throng, President “Caesar” Brockbank pressed forward, bearing the trophy with him. He called for Kendall Hansen and Corian Taylor, who had pulled the winning chariot across the finish line. The crowd parted to let them pass, and the trophy was in their hands.
After the race, the youth of the stake were enthusiastic about the success of the day.
Karen Maury, 16, the 18th Ward Laurel president, said, “I feel the youth of the stake are beginning to gain a testimony of who we are. This whole weekend I’ve spent so much time with the Church that I know it’s going to really build me, to help me to do other things.”
Kathy Ricks, a 16-year-old 13th Warder, said, “I think the best part about it was the closeness everyone felt. I’ve never been to an event like that before, where I’ve made so many friends. You realized how much the youth are able to plan things, that they are capable.”
Mike Standard, 15, of the 13th Ward, added that “a lot of us brought friends who weren’t Mormons, and they really enjoyed it, because they saw what youth, working together, can do. They didn’t know people could just get together and do something and it could work like this did. It was a great missionary tool.”
The Second Ward’s Christan Linebarger, 16, summarized: “I’ve never seen the wards so close before. The spirit that was put across in the enthusiasm was really spectacular. I think that was the most special part of the day. It wasn’t important who won the chariot race or the tug-of-war, but it was important that the whole ward was together in whatever we were doing. That was the most special thing.”
Slowly the stadium emptied. The competitors and the fans went home to clean up and get ready for the dance. On Sunday the lessons learned in the race were emphasized during priesthood and Sunday School. At the fireside, members of the stake presidency drew analogies between pulling together as teams both in church work and in life, as well as stressing the ability of youth to engage in good, clean fun.
The lessons had meaning, because the day had been complete. Service to others was the lesson of the morning, and the need to work with others was evident in the games and in the stampede of chariots Saturday afternoon.
And as for fun, it was a good thing President Brockbank announced the Ben Hur Memorial Traveling Award as a traveling trophy, because it was obvious this would not be the last chariot race in the San Jose California Stake.

Let's fast forward now to 1850 and take a quick look at the first missionaries to these islands, and see how they lived the first principle of the gospel. George Q. Cannon and nine others were sent by the First Presidency to preach the gospel to the people of Hawaii. Because of his age, George Q. was not the Mission President. Another one was, and he decided that they were not going to teach the Hawaiian people (calling them heathen and decadent), but rather, they would concentrate their efforts on teaching the Europeans and Americans that were in the ancillary businesses of the Islands. With that directive in mind, the 10 missionaries separated and went to the various islands. George Q. and two others went to Lahaina, Maui.

Listen to his own words about his call:
"When we first arrived in the islands and were sailing past Maui, my feelings were drawn towards that island...and I felt that I would like that to be my field of labor. I know not why this should have been, except that the Lord gave me that feeling, for I knew nothing concerning it that would make it a desirable place in my eyes."

These three elders determined (in spite of the directive by the mission President) that they should try to learn the Hawaiian language so that they could teach the native people. Listen again to the words from his journal: "My desire to speak the language was very strong. It was present with me night and day and I never missed an opportunity of talking with the natives to improve it. I also tried to exercise faith before the Lord, to obtain the gift of talking and understanding the language."

He goes on: "One evening while sitting on the mats visiting with some neighbors, I felt a peculiar sensation in my ears; I jumped to my feet with my hands to my ears, and exclaimed: I can understand them! From that time forth, I had but little, if any, difficulty in understanding what the people said."

Thereafter, he spoke the Hawaiian language almost perfectly and went about sharing the message of the restoration with these children of Lehi, these descendents of Nephi.

Within three months, the hope for success in the islands was not forthcoming. Whereupon, the Mission President decided they were all in the wrong place, and departed for Tahiti. The four married Elders decided that they had given it their all and left for home. George Q. Cannon and four others stayed determined to fulfill their assignment from the Prophet. And fulfill they did. Again, from his journal we read: "I felt resolved to stay and master the language and warn the people of the islands, if I had to do it alone, for I felt that I could not do otherwise and be free from condemnation...The spirit of it was upon me."

They stayed for four years. At the end of those four years, they had baptized more than 3,000 of these great people. Don't you just love how living this first principle of the gospel changes everything?

Meet Emmanuel Amore from the Bo Sierra Leone East Stake—a young man whose journey of transformation began with a simple invitation to church. In 2018 a friend welcomed him to a Sunday meeting, and Emmanuel’s heart was touched. Not long after, he chose to be baptized—a decision that placed the first stone in what would become a deeply personal path of spiritual and personal growth.
Since then, Emmanuel has made the Gathering Place his second home. Whether it’s playing on the sports teams, learning new skills, or diving into institute classes, he shows up with purpose. “I want to succeed both spiritually and temporally,” he says—and he’s putting in the work to make that happen.
A turning point came when Emmanuel noticed his brother learning masonry. Seeing the demand for skilled labor in his community, Emmanuel realized this could be his opportunity to make a difference. He began training, determined to develop a craft that could support his future. Today, he’s applying his growing masonry skills to find work and build something lasting—not just with bricks but with faith.
Emmanuel is still just getting started. His ultimate goal? To grow in personal righteousness and stay anchored in Christ as he builds a meaningful life, one stone—and one choice—at a time.

Let us go back to the year 1805, on the 23rd day of December, in the town of Sharon, Vermont. Will you accompany me as we look back on those dramatic events taking place on that day? As Joseph Smith Sr. and his wife, Lucy Mack, proudly looked down upon the little baby who had come into their home, I’m certain they were pleased and most grateful. A choice spirit had come to dwell in its earthly tabernacle.
Some have asked, “Did he have an unusual childhood or boyhood?” “Was the Prophet Joseph different from me or my brothers?” I think we could gain insight into the childhood of the Prophet by reading the words of his mother. She said, “I am aware that some of my readers will be disappointed, for … it is thought by some that I shall be likely to tell many very remarkable incidents which attended his childhood; but, as nothing occurred during his early life except those trivial circumstances which are common to that state of human existence, I pass them in silence.”1 This is all we have from the boy’s mother concerning his early childhood activities.
During his early youth, however, ill health and ill fortune seemed to pursue the family. When young Joseph was seven years old, he and his brothers and sisters were stricken with typhus fever. The others recovered readily, but Joseph was left with a painful sore on his leg. The doctors, doing the best they could under the conditions of the time, treated him—and yet the sore persisted. Finally the doctors were afraid they were going to have to amputate his leg.
Thankfully, however, one day the doctors came unexpectedly to the home and told the family they were going to try a new operation to remove a piece of the bone, hoping this would permit the sore to heal. They had brought with them some cord and planned to tie Joseph to the bed because they had no anesthetic, nothing to dull the pain, when they cut into his leg to remove the piece of bone.
Young Joseph, however, responded, “I will not be bound, for I can bear the operation much better if I have my liberty.”
The doctors then said, “Will you take some wine? … You must take something, or you can never endure the severe operation.”
Again the boy prophet said, “No, … but I will tell you what I will do—I will have my father sit on the bed and hold me in his arms, and then I will do whatever is necessary in order to have the bone taken out.”
So Joseph Smith Sr. held the boy in his arms, and the doctors opened the leg and removed the diseased piece of bone. Although he was lame for some time afterward, Joseph was healed.2 At seven years of age, the Prophet Joseph Smith taught us courage—by example.
When Joseph was in his 11th year, his family, which now consisted of 11 souls, left Vermont and moved to Palmyra, New York. Four years later they moved to Manchester, located in the same county. It was here that Joseph described the great religious revival that seemed everywhere present and of prime concern to every heart.
These are his words: “So great were the confusion and strife among the different denominations, that it was impossible for a person young as I was, and so unacquainted with men and things, to come to any certain conclusion who was right and who was wrong. …
“While I was laboring under the extreme difficulties caused by the contests of these parties of religionists, I was one day reading the Epistle of James, first chapter and fifth verse, which reads: If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him” (JS—H 1:8, 11).
The Prophet said that after reading this verse he knew for a certainty he must either put the Lord to the test and ask Him or perhaps choose to remain in darkness forever. He declared that as he retired to the grove to pray, this was the first time he had attempted to pray vocally to his Heavenly Father. But he had read the scripture, he had understood the scripture, he had trusted in God his Eternal Father; and now he knelt and prayed, knowing that God would give him the enlightenment which he so earnestly sought. The Prophet Joseph Smith taught us the principle of faith—by example.
Can you imagine the ridicule, the scorn, the mocking that all of his young friends, his older friends, and his foes alike must have heaped upon him as he mentioned that he had seen a vision?
I suppose it became almost unbearable for the boy, and yet he was honest with himself, for these are his words: “I had actually seen a light, and in the midst of that light I saw two Personages, and they did in reality speak to me; and though I was hated and persecuted for saying that I had seen a vision, yet it was true; and while they were persecuting me, reviling me, and speaking all manner of evil against me falsely for so saying, I was led to say in my heart: Why persecute me for telling the truth? I have actually seen a vision; and who am I that I can withstand God, or why does the world think to make me deny what I have actually seen? For I had seen a vision; I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it” (JS—H 1:25).
The Prophet Joseph Smith taught honesty—by example.
The Prophet Joseph was truly blessed with the ability to inspire faith. One bright morning Joseph walked up to John E. Page and said, “Brother John, the Lord is calling you on a mission to Canada.”
John E. Page was rather astonished and said, “Why, Brother Joseph, I can’t go on a mission to Canada. I don’t even have a coat to wear.”
The Prophet Joseph took his own coat from his back, handed it to John Page, and said, “Here, John, wear this, and the Lord will bless you.” Brother Page took the coat, went to Canada, and in two years walked 5,000 miles and baptized 600 souls, because he trusted in the words of a prophet of God.3
The Prophet Joseph believed in missionary work. While he and Sidney Rigdon were proselyting at Perrysburg, New York, October 12, 1833, having been long absent from their families and feeling concerned for them, they received the following revelation:
“Verily, thus saith the Lord unto you, my friends Sidney and Joseph, your families are well; they are in mine hands, and I will do with them as seemeth me good; for in me there is all power. …
“Therefore, verily I say unto you, lift up your voices unto this people” (D&C 100:1, 5).
Joseph and Sidney continued their missionary labors.
Joseph Smith not only inspired men to volunteer for missions, but he also taught the importance of missionary work—by example.
I think one of the sweetest lessons taught by the Prophet, and yet one of the saddest, occurred close to the time of his death. He was required to leave his plan and vision of the Rocky Mountains and give himself up to face a court of supposed justice.
These are his words: “I am going like a lamb to the slaughter; but I am calm as a summer’s morning; I have a conscience void of offense towards God, and towards all men” (D&C 135:4). That statement of the Prophet teaches us obedience to law and the importance of having a clear conscience toward God and toward our fellowmen. The Prophet Joseph Smith taught these principles—by example.
There was to be one great final lesson before his mortal life ended. He was incarcerated in Carthage Jail with his brother Hyrum, with John Taylor, and with Willard Richards. The angry mob stormed the jail; they came up the stairway, blasphemous in their cursing, heavily armed, and began to fire at will. Hyrum was hit and died. John Taylor took several balls of fire within his bosom. The Prophet Joseph, with his pistol in hand, was attempting to defend his life and that of his brethren, and yet he could tell from the pounding on the door that this mob would storm that door and would kill John Taylor and Willard Richards in an attempt to kill him.
And so his last great act here upon the earth was to leave the door and lead Willard Richards to safety, throw the gun on the floor, and go to the window, that they might see him, that the attention of this ruthless mob might be focused upon him rather than the others. Joseph Smith gave his life. Willard Richards was spared, and John Taylor recovered from his wounds. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). The Prophet Joseph Smith taught us love—by example.
I pray we may learn from his example, that we might incorporate into our lives the great principles he so beautifully taught.

When I was a young man, a mere boy of 11, I received a patriarchal blessing from a man I had never seen before and never saw thereafter. It is a remarkable document, a prophetic document. It is personal, and I will not read extensively from it. However, it contains this statement: “The nations of the earth shall hear thy voice and be brought to a knowledge of the truth by the wonderful testimony which thou shalt bear.”

When I was released from my mission in England, I took a short trip on the Continent. I had borne my testimony in London; I did so in Berlin and again in Paris and later in Washington, D.C. I said to myself that I had borne my testimony in these great capitals of the world and had fulfilled that part of my blessing.

That proved to be a mere scratching of the surface. Since then I have lifted my voice on every continent, in cities large and small, all up and down from north to south and east to west across this broad world—from Cape Town to Stockholm, from Moscow to Tokyo to Montreal, in every great capital of the world. It is all a miracle.

President Nelson: When my grandfather A. C. Nelson was a young husband and father, just 27 years old, his father died. About three months later, his deceased father, my great-grandfather, came to visit him. The date of that visit was the night of April 6, 1891. Grandfather Nelson was so impressed by his father’s visit that he wrote the experience in his journal for his family and friends.
“I was in bed when Father entered the room,” Grandfather Nelson wrote. “He came and sat on the side of the bed. He said, ‘Well, my son, as I had a few spare minutes, I received permission to come and see you for a few minutes. I am feeling well, my son, and have had very much to do since I died.’”
When Grandfather Nelson asked him what he had been doing, his father answered that he had been busy teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ in the spirit world.
“You cannot imagine, my son, how many spirits there are in the spirit world who have not yet received the gospel,” he said. “But many are receiving it, and a great work is being accomplished. Many are anxiously looking forth to their friends who are still living to administer for them in the temples.”
Grandfather Nelson told his father, “We intend to go to the temple and get sealed to you, Father, as soon as we can.”
My great-grandfather responded: “That, my son, is partly what I came to see you about. We will yet make a family and live throughout eternity.”
Then Grandfather Nelson asked, “Father, is the gospel as taught by this Church true?”
His father pointed to a picture of the First Presidency hanging on the wall of the bedroom.
“My son, just as sure as you see that picture, just as sure is the gospel true. The gospel of Jesus Christ has within it the power of saving every man and woman who will obey it, and in no other way can they ever obtain salvation in the kingdom of God. My son, always cling to the gospel. Be humble, be prayerful, be submissive to the priesthood, be true, be faithful to the covenants you have made with God. Never do anything that would displease God. Oh, what a blessing is the gospel. My son, be a good boy.”
A. C. Nelson, grandfather of President Russell M. Nelson.
Illustrations by Bjorn Thorkelson
Sister Nelson: I just love all those B’s. “Be humble, be prayerful, be submissive to the priesthood, be true, be faithful to the covenants you have made with God. … Be a good boy.” Six B’s brought to you by your departed great-grandfather. He certainly sounds a lot like President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) with his six B’s.1
President Nelson: He does, doesn’t he? It’s so precious to me that my grandfather would leave that record for us. We learned that his father’s children were subsequently sealed to him. So the reason for his visit was accomplished.

If you can imagine this situation, you can understand a little of what Gina Paulino, of the Hingham Massachusetts Stake, went through before joining the Church.
Years before she was taught the gospel, 11-year-old Gina told her mother she believed that “there has to be just one church that is Jesus Christ’s. All these churches can’t be true, because they all teach different things.”
And she believed that “there must be an existence in heaven before we came here.”
And that “there must be different levels in heaven because not everyone has the same amount of goodness.”
And that “people who have died and weren’t able to hear the gospel message—someone must be able to stand in for them so they can be baptized.”
Young Gina believed all these truths before she had read the Book of Mormon or met with the missionaries or even attended a Latter-day Saint meeting. Gina’s mother had learned a little about the gospel more than 20 years ago from her sister. But Gina’s mother didn’t join the Church then because her husband wasn’t ready to do so. So when Gina told her mother about these beliefs, her mom would cry and say, “You’re right. There is a church that believes that.”
Gina’s mother was baptized in 1998, when Gina was 13. Gina knew then the Church is true, but her dad wanted her to wait until she was 18 to be baptized.
At age 15, Gina asked her dad again if she could join the Church. They talked for several hours. She told him how much she wanted to get baptized and that she knew the Church is true. He agreed to let her attend church and Young Women. At that time, only two other teenage girls attended Gina’s branch.
Seven months later, Gina’s father said she could be baptized.
With that good news, Gina began taking the discussions, which were held at the meetinghouse. Gina’s mother was there, as were a couple of other members of the branch. Gina’s talks with her mother in the past few years had given Gina a basic understanding of the gospel, but the missionary lessons strengthened her testimony of the Atonement and taught her the importance of baptismal covenants. She learned to abide by Church standards like dressing modestly to show respect for her body.
Shortly before Gina was baptized in December 2001, her nonmember friends left her. They thought Gina was joining a cult. But Gina didn’t let that stop her, because joining the Church was so important to her.
A couple weeks after her baptism, Gina drove two hours to her first Church activity: a semi-formal dance. Gina knew only one person there. At the next activity, ice skating, she met more Latter-day Saint teens and exchanged e-mail addresses with them. In the months following her baptism, she began to get to know more youth in her stake.
As the only active teen in her branch, Gina took home-study seminary. She started it a few months before she was baptized. She studied the scriptures on her own, then met with her teacher at the church once a week. When Gina’s teacher moved out of the state, Gina’s mother volunteered to teach. They had seminary every morning at 6 a.m.
Gina enjoyed being the only student because she didn’t have to compete with other students to ask questions. “My mom and I grew so much closer,” Gina says. “We had that connection. I absolutely loved doing seminary with my mom.”
As a new member, Gina wanted to get as much from seminary as possible—to catch up for all those years without the scriptures. What was supposed to be an hour-long lesson sometimes stretched to two hours. Gina says the Book of Mormon and Doctrine and Covenants “are the two most important books that I’ve grown up without. To be able to learn about them in depth was wonderful. To get my mom’s insight along with my study was an experience I would never want to give up.”
Gina lives in a stake that covers a lot of territory. Her Church friends live about two hours away. Besides the time involved, the cost of gas makes it expensive to drive to see her friends. But it’s worth it to Gina because her friends are strong members of the Church and such good influences on her.
Gina was the only active teenager in her branch; she was the only student in seminary; and her Church friends live far away. Why does she go to all the effort? “I know what I know, and I know it’s the truth,” she says. “To be with people who have a strong testimony of the same things I do is worth driving two hours to have that spiritual backing up.
“There is wear and tear during the week, but you just have to stay strong. When that weekend comes, you’re ready for some Latter-day Saint fun and goodness surrounding you,” Gina says, laughing. “It’s definitely worth it.”

In 2000, Lucas Bento traveled from Mozambique to Lisbon, Portugal where his brother lived, to receive medical treatment for a chronic illness. He stayed with his brother and made weekly visits to a nearby hospital. Lucas was a faithful member of a Protestant church in Mozambique and was anxious to attend services during his stay in Lisbon. When he asked his brother where he might find the local Protestant church, he was told that there was not one in the area, but that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was nearby. His brother was not a member of the Church but was familiar with the missionaries and knew that they were frequently in the neighborhood visiting people. Lucas’ brother knew that the missionaries would gladly take him to church.
Lucas began meeting with the missionaries and soon expressed an interest in becoming a member. He was particularly impressed with the commandments and teachings of the Church, such as the Word of Wisdom, the law of chastity and the importance of having a living prophet. One scripture in the Book of Mormon was important to his search for the true Church. In 3 Nephi 27:8, he read, “And how be it my church save it be called in my name?” Lucas Bento gained a testimony of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and was baptized on 9 June 2002. He was ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood and soon returned to his village in Mozambique where he was the only member of the Church.
Brother Bento’s branch president in Lisbon instructed him not to join another church when he returned to Mozambique, but to gather his family and teach them the gospel of Jesus Christ. Brother Bento asked the missionaries in Portugal why the Church was not in Mozambique. When he discovered that the Church was indeed in his country, he wrote the mission president in Maputo asking for directions to the Church. Missionaries were sent to visit Brother Bento in Nampula. He showed them his baptismal and Aaronic Priesthood ordination certificates, and arrangements were made to ordain Brother Bento to the Melchizedek Priesthood. He wrote again to tell the mission president that he had followed the directions of his branch president in Lisbon and had been teaching his family and friends. There were 18 people ready to be baptized.
Brother Bento continues to share the gospel with his neighbors and is now the group leader for a small congregation in the village of Luaha, Mozambique. There, close to 80 members have joined the Church as a result of Brother Bento’s missionary efforts. He loves the gospel of Jesus Christ and continues to teach his neighbors about the prophet Joseph Smith and the Restoration. Brother Bento recently traveled to the temple in Johannesburg, South Africa, to be endowed and sealed to his wife. “When I went to Lisbon,” he says, “I did not go just for my illness; it was Heavenly Father’s will. Over my year in Portugal, I went to five hospitals and was still was not cured. But I now understand that I went to Portugal to find the true Church of Jesus Christ.”