Gospel Story Finder

Jim had just turned 18. He was sitting across from a General Authority of the Church, obviously nervous, filled with frustration, and showing a lot of animosity. His request was forthright, simple, and came out like he couldn’t wait to say it.
“I want to be excommunicated from the Church—today!”
“How long have you been a member?”
“About three years,” came the answer.
“Why do you make such a request?”
“Because I have lost my free agency. I like to smoke, and the Church is depriving me of my free agency to live the way I want to live.”
Jim failed to recognize that his most important exercise of free agency occurred when he decided to be baptized and to live in accordance with gospel standards.
Jim had obviously acquired associations with peers outside the Church who had gradually dulled the spiritual sensitivity and uplift that he had felt at the time of his baptismal commitment.
He was no longer a free young man. He had fallen prey to one of the adversary’s many ploys and deceptions which deceives the very elect at times and entices people away from the truth. Jim complained that the Church was depriving him of his freedom. But in actuality, it is the truth of the gospel that makes us free. We all have a great need to be free.

Tom Geffe wasn’t exactly “golden.” He called the missionaries names. He threw the Book of Mormon in the trash. He smoked. He drank. He swore.
All the more reason to love him. That was the attitude of his twin brother, Bill, and the members of the St. Peters Ward. Bill and Tom started the discussions at the same time. Tom dropped out but Bill got baptized.
“Bill would give me books and I wouldn’t read them,” Tom says now. “He would tell me he was learning about the priesthood, and I would think, Yeah, you’re crazy.”
Bill kept at it.
“I’d go to Church activities,” Tom says. “But I’d always be the rebel. I was just in it for the fun.”
Bill invited Tom to youth conference. Tom figured he’d skip the spiritual parts.
“But I ended up at this big testimony meeting. All of these kids were bearing their testimonies. One nonmember girl said she knew the Church was true and she was going to be baptized. Her testimony was so powerful I thought, Wow! I want to be a part of that!”
The change was immediate. Tom quit smoking, quit drinking, quit swearing. He started the discussions again, started reading the Book of Mormon. Tom discovered the gospel was setting him free. “I felt better about myself. I felt free to be the things I really wanted to be.”
The missionaries asked Tom to join the Church. He felt it was right, but wanted to be sure. They all prayed.
“I felt really warm inside, and a big smile came over my face,” Tom explains. “I knew I should be baptized.
“People who knew me before could not believe I was joining the Church,” Tom says. “But it was the best thing I ever did. It sticks with me every day, knowing Heavenly Father loves me.”
The story doesn’t end there. Bill, who was a year ahead in school, is serving in the Texas Houston East Mission. He relies a lot on Tom’s letters of encouragement. “He tells me the same things I used to tell him,” Bill says. “Keep on trying, even when it’s hard. Stay strong.
“I don’t know if I have more I-want-to-go-home days than other missionaries,” Bill says. “But when I have one I’ll reread a letter, or look at Tom’s picture, and think how we’ve been able to help each other. It gives me courage to go on.”
Tom also plans on a mission.

Even still, you may sometimes have a hard time. Here is a story that might help you about a Primary boy named Minchan Kim from South Korea. His family joined the Church about six years ago.
“One day at school, a few of my classmates were making fun of another student by calling him names. It looked like fun, so for a few weeks I joined in with them.
“Several weeks later, the boy told me even though he pretended he didn’t care, he was hurt by our words, and he cried every night. I almost cried when he told me. I felt very sorry and wanted to help him. The next day I went up to him and put my arm around his shoulder and apologized, saying, ‘I’m really sorry that I made fun of you.’ He nodded at my words, and his eyes filled up with tears.
“But the other kids were still making fun of him. Then I remembered what I learned in Primary class: choose the right. So I asked my classmates to stop. Most of them decided not to change, and they were mad at me. But one of the other boys said he was sorry, and the three of us became good friends.
“Even though a few people still made fun of him, he felt better because he had us.
“I chose the right by helping a friend in need.”

I was going to visit my uncle but when I got there, I was told that my uncle had traveled. Instead of seeing him, I was given some books and asked to read them. I met the missionaries and had some friends who met them under a mango tree in the area. The missionaries gave me a Book of Mormon, but I dumped it somewhere because I didn’t want to read it.
Later, after my sister gave me the Church manuals and magazines to read, I decided to pray about it. I was also given another Book of Mormon. I found out that everything the missionaries were talking about made sense to me. At that time, I wasn’t married but thought that if I found someone that I loved, I would want them forever. The church I was attending always said “Till death do us part”. I couldn’t understand having that be the end of the union. When the missionaries talked about the plan of salvation, I was very interested. I said “Wow”. If we can get some authority to bless our marriages here and when we die, we can find ourselves together, then I would want to be in this Church.
Secondly, I am not good at dancing. So, when I would go to the church I was attending, they would always make some music, make noise, and ask us to come and dance. And while you were dancing, you would also be paying some offering. I don’t like that. So, I said I would read about this book and pray to God to find out if it is true. And by so doing, I got baptized.
Before I was baptized, I attended church for several months and did everything but when they talked about baptism, that’s when I was hesitant. Before I started meeting with the missionaries, I had been baptized into the church I was attending. I didn’t want to be baptized again. Finally, I decided to go forward with the baptism.
The next thing I wanted to do was go on a mission. One day my father questioned me asking if the Church I was attending was restored by Joseph Smith? I said “yes”.
He said “Ahh, that church is a cult. I’ve read some things about them. You must be very careful about that church.” I told him “OK, if that is the case, I will pray over it and find out for myself”.
One day I was sleeping, and I had this dream. There were two churches, and they were built across the street from each other. There was a fire burning and people were running all around. The two churches were there, and one was big and the other small. The bigger church had lots of people running into it and a few were running to the small one. The fire was coming, and it was burning the entire city. When the flame got to the two churches, the big church was consumed by the flame and the small church was not. I beheld that the small church had an inscription on it that said, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints”.
I said, “Wow, this is wonderful”. I woke up from my dream and prayed and thanked Heavenly Father for answering my prayers because I thought I was lost, and the Church was somewhere I belonged. A place that would comfort me and where I could have a family. I told my father about it and that I had got an answer. He said, “OK, if you’ve gotten an answer, then you need to go on a mission”.
Within a year, my call came, and I went to the Nigeria Lagos Mission and served faithfully. I returned home with honors. When I was on a mission, I would always bear my testimony that I know the Church is true. This is because I have strong testimony of what I know. I wish that everyone that is investigating the Church could have the same conversion as I had. Joining the Church was not a mistake but rather, I have been saved and I’ve been blessed.
In the Church I’ve been able to educate myself. The Church has taught me a lot. At first, I couldn’t even stand in front of a few people to talk. It has given me the confidence to stand in front of a lot of people and share that the Church is true. When we are on the Lord’s errand and pray and ask Heavenly Father what He wants us to do, He will always show us the way.
I am married with three children. In my family, I am not the oldest, but they always look to me and call me if there is an issue and we discuss it. I tell them we should do things the way that the Lord wants us to. I know that the Church is true, and I am not going back, no matter what.

Amelia liked visiting Grandma. She liked playing with the toy animals, especially with Grandma’s soft stuffed bunny. But today wasn’t for playing. Today was for helping.
On the way to Grandma’s house, Amelia’s sisters talked about which jobs they wanted to do.
Sarah wanted to sweep. Emily wanted to mop. And Mom asked Alyssa to clean the windows.
“What about me?” Amelia asked. “Should I help dust?”
“I have a special job for you,” Mom said. “I need you to listen.”
Amelia waited. “OK, I’m listening. What is it?”
“That’s the job!” Mom said with a laugh. “Just listen. Sit with Grandma and listen while she talks. It might be the most important job we do all day.”
How could listening be the most important job? Amelia wondered. It seemed like dusting would be more of a real job! But Amelia was willing to try.
Grandma was glad to see them. Everyone else got started on their jobs. Amelia went and sat next to Grandma on the couch. Amelia noticed the stuffed bunny in the corner. “I like your rabbit,” she said.
Grandma smiled. “Did I ever tell you about my brother Mel and the baby bunny?”
Amelia was surprised. “A real bunny?”
Grandma nodded. “It was an orphan he found. He snuggled it inside his shirt so it would be safe.” Grandma told Amelia about the rabbit pen Mel built.
That story reminded Grandma of other stories. She told about a pet calf she named Star. She used to ride on Star’s back! Amelia giggled as she pictured Grandma riding a baby cow. It wasn’t easy imagining her as a little girl.
Grandma talked and talked. She told the rabbit story again. Another time, she even stopped in the middle of a story and started over.
Amelia tried to keep listening, but she was getting tired. Mom and the other girls were still working.
It was hard to sit and listen! But Grandma smiled. She seemed happy to be sharing her stories.
A few minutes later, Mom came in. “All done! We’re ready go.”
“That was so nice,” Grandma told Amelia. “I love visiting with you!”
Amelia gave her grandma a big hug. She saw tears in Grandma’s eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Amelia asked.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Grandma said. “Thank you for talking with me. I love you.”
Amelia felt warm all the way inside. “I love you too,” she said. “I’ll come again soon.”
On the way home, Alyssa asked, “How was listening, Amelia?”
“It was harder than I thought. I think I was done listening before Grandma was done talking!”
“You were terrific!” Mom said.
“Thanks,” said Amelia. “Some of the stories she told were fun. Did you know Grandma had a pet calf?”
“Like a baby cow?” Sarah asked.
“Yeah! Grandma used to ride it,” Amelia said, nodding. “Her name was Star.”
Amelia told them all of Grandma’s other stories. It was pretty cool to learn so much about her.
Emily grinned. “Maybe you could trade me jobs next time. I want a chance to listen!”

When area conferences first began, the meetings were held in only one city at a time, such as Manchester, Mexico City, or Munich. Traveling to the conference and then back home again was a relatively simple schedule for the Brethren to follow. As the idea of taking the conferences to the people expanded, particularly under President Spencer W. Kimball’s leadership, it came to mean scheduling five or six area conferences back to back. This made the travel schedules more than hectic—they became absolutely strenuous.
When the area conference plans were announced for Asia in 1975, I became a little concerned and felt that someone should go along as a physician to the General Authorities, their wives, and other members of the group. There were quite a few people traveling together, and it seemed appropriate to have medical help available if needed. A recommendation was made and accepted to have a physician accompany those traveling to the various area conferences. In 1976 I was asked to go to Europe in this capacity.
From the very start of our journey, I was moved by President Kimball and Sister Kimball’s concern for the others traveling with them. When my wife and I boarded the airplane in Salt Lake City, we took seats to the side and in back of President Kimball. A few minutes after the plane took off and the seat belt sign was turned off, President Kimball turned around and said to us, “Are you comfortable?” I was there to serve him and the others traveling with him, and yet he showed this concern for us. Throughout the entire trip this great, kind, friendly man was always interested in the welfare of the people around him. We felt so comfortable traveling with him because of his warmth and graciousness.
After the first area conference in Paris, we traveled to Helsinki, Finland. President Kimball had been going strong now for three days. He was up early every morning, worked a very heavy schedule throughout the day, and then went to bed late at night. His responsibilities were greater than anyone else’s.
His jobs included not only presiding and conducting, but he spoke for long periods of time using a translator. He had held an exhausting press conference and had interviewed and set apart many local Church authorities. We boarded an airplane late in the evening for Helsinki. It was necessary to change planes in Copenhagen, and as we walked through the hallways of the airport, President Kimball carried a travel bag with his suits in it. I had a free hand and walked up and said, “President Kimball, let me carry that.” He turned and said, “No, thank you, I have to have a reason for being here.” He was almost serious in humbly expressing his desire to carry his own weight; he didn’t want to be a burden on anyone. I was impressed with that same beautiful attitude during the entire trip.
In Dortmund, Germany, during the last area conference on this trip, we stayed in an older, beautiful hotel. The manager was an austere, tall, straight, gray-haired Prussian gentleman. He looked as if he could have been an officer in the army. On the second day after arriving at the hotel, the manager commented, speaking of President Kimball, “Every time that man walks through this lobby, I feel goose bumps all over me.” He felt the spirit that radiates from President Kimball. After making that remark he was introduced to the prophet. President Kimball spoke with him briefly and gave him a family home evening manual. Arrangements were made for him to receive the missionary discussions.
The hotel manager was vividly influenced by that very brief contact with the living prophet. On the day we left, we boarded a bus in front of the hotel and drove around the block, passing the hotel again because of the one-way streets. As we passed the hotel, this handsome, stately gentleman was standing outside on the sidewalk waving good-bye to President Kimball with his white handkerchief. It was significant that the hotel manager could feel the Spirit of the Lord just by watching our prophet walk through the hotel lobby. You know, President Kimball looks like any one of the rest of us. Some may not think that there is anything unusual about his appearance—but there is an unusual spirit that he carries with him.
After the Dortmund conference, while most of the group returned to the United States, President Kimball, President Tanner, and their wives, and a few others traveled to Bern, Switzerland. Here the two members of the First Presidency were busy for an additional day and a half in the Swiss Temple. They had been traveling now for 14 days while participating in the five area conferences. They had been going unceasingly when we boarded a bus at Bern to go to Zurich where we were to catch our flight to New York and then on to Salt Lake. I saw President Kimball’s exceptional enthusiasm in action again.
There had been 14 days of going, going, going, and in the 30 hours ahead there would be no opportunity for the prophet to go to bed or really relax. On the bus most of us leaned back in our seats and began to nap. I was seated behind President Kimball and expected that he would use the next hour for some well-deserved rest. We had not quite reached the autobahn when President Kimball stood up and made his way up the aisle to a jump seat next to the bus driver. As I sat in my seat feeling almost exhausted, our prophet, who had reason to be more tired than anyone else, couldn’t rest because there was a person on that bus who hadn’t been taught the gospel of Jesus Christ.
As I watched what happened, I had a feeling of guilt—I had been content to sit back and relax, but the prophet, realizing the transcending importance of missionary work, didn’t let weariness dampen his burning desire to share the gospel with others.
I wondered how he was going to talk with the bus driver who seemed to speak little English. President Kimball doesn’t speak German. Initially there was some difficulty as they tried to speak to one another. After only a few minutes, however, the two of them were obviously quite able to understand each other. Now my worry was transferred from how they would communicate with each other to whether the bus driver, while glancing frequently at President Kimball, would be able to keep the bus on the road. It was clear that he understood and was interested in President Kimball’s sincere message. Their conversation continued until we reached the outskirts of Zurich when President Kimball returned to his seat.
When the bus pulled up at the Zurich airport, President Gary E. O’Brian, president of the Zurich Switzerland Mission, was waiting on the curb. President Kimball went to the door of the bus as it opened. He asked President O’Brian to step on the bus, and while shaking hands with him, said, “President O’Brian, this is Mr. __________. Will you promise me you will teach him the gospel?” President O’Brian said, “Yes, President.” And then President Kimball said, “Mr. __________, this is one of our mission presidents. Will you let him teach you the gospel of Jesus Christ?” The bus driver nodded his head and said he would.
This experience really taught me the importance of sharing the gospel. Our prophet is in close communication with our Heavenly Father and sees beyond the veil much more clearly than I do. He puts this degree of urgency on missionary work. Even when he has every reason to be tired, when sitting back and resting would seem to be a valid excuse for passing up a missionary opportunity, President Kimball continues to be a vigorous missionary. How can you or I do less than share the gospel with our families, our neighbors, our friends, and everyone else we meet?

I was really excited to go to the temple and do baptisms.
At first it was hard. I was worried about what the older girls would think about me. I was a little nervous until we all went to the temple together. That’s when we became good friends.
It was very special. Going inside the temple of the Lord was a spiritual experience. I’ve always wanted to go to the temple. In Primary we sang, “I love to see the temple. I’m going there someday.” Now I can say, “I love to go to the temple.”
That first time in the temple, I did baptisms for some of my aunts, some relatives of my grandmother (my mom’s mom), and other people I didn’t know. The temple and family history are part of my testimony.

Looking for a cheap project with a big reach, the group harnessed the power of sidewalk chalk. They obtained approval from the city and set out. “We went downtown and wrote kind messages on the sidewalk with chalk,” says Isabelle C., a 15-year-old Lutheran. “When we finished, we left some chalk and wrote a message saying ‘write some more’ so other people could keep writing kind messages. This was my favorite project because I knew the messages we wrote would make someone smile. And they made me smile!”

One morning several years ago I was driving with my family to Disney World in Florida. Our four young daughters were excited as we approached the turnoff to that famous park. The laughter and happy chatter stopped suddenly, however, as our rented station wagon sputtered and chugged to an unexpected stop on the exit ramp. Many cars sped by us in the rush-hour traffic as I tried unsuccessfully to get the car running again. Finally, realizing there was nothing more we could do, we got out of the stalled car and huddled together off the road for a word of prayer.

As we looked up from our prayer, we saw a smiling, handsome man and his son maneuver their bright red sports car through the lanes of traffic and pull off the road beside us. For the remainder of the morning and into the afternoon, these men assisted us and cared for our needs in many kind and helpful ways. They took us and our belongings to the receiving area at the park. In their small car, it took several trips. They helped me locate a tow truck for the stranded car; they drove me to the rental agency to get a replacement vehicle. Then, because there was some delay, they drove back to where my family waited to let them know where I was. They bought refreshments for them and then waited with my family until I returned several hours later.

We felt that these men were truly an answer to our prayer, and we told them so as we said good-bye and tried to thank them. The father responded, “Every morning I tell the good Lord that if there is anyone in need of my help today, please guide me to them.”

We ranked those men very high as followers of Christ that day. Their influence remains with us still. There have been many days since then and possibly equally as many other people uplifted and influenced by daily acts of Christian kindness of that father and his son.

Priscila prepared for her temple trip by studying general conference talks about the temple with her mother, reading Church magazines, and studying the scriptures. She also gathered the names of four generations on her father’s side of the family so she could perform vicarious baptisms for them. Priscila’s mom compiled the family history information for four generations of her side of the family.
Once the 185 members departed Manaus by boat, Priscila and the five other young women in the caravan helped tend the Primary-age children and fixed meals. At night they slept in hammocks on the boat deck to try to stay cool in the hot jungle temperatures.
“Being on the caravan was so spiritual because everyone was so excited and anxious to go to the temple,” Priscila comments. “Most people had never been to the temple, so almost no one knew exactly what to expect. Everyone sang songs and read scriptures together. We were so united.”
The bus ride was the most difficult part of the journey because the buses traveled both day and night for three days, and the members were unable to move around much. As a result, many of the members had severe pain and swelling in their legs.
When they arrived at the temple, Priscila immediately went to the baptistry to do baptisms for the dead, while her mother went to a different part of the temple to receive her endowment. Priscila spent every day in São Paulo in the temple, even though it was the first time she had been to the large metropolis.
“I spent my 15th birthday in the temple. When the baptismal font coordinator discovered it was my birthday, he told me he had a present for me,” Priscila explains. “So many people come to the temple that most patrons can do the baptisms for only five people. He gave me a large stack of names of people who needed their baptismal work done for them. He couldn’t have given me a better present.”
Priscila’s mother comments about other changes that happened in Priscila’s life: “The caravan spiritually influenced her. She was a light for all of the other members. Everyone came back different. On the bus ride home, we felt that our appearances and faces had changed; we were all so happy.”

“Me?” I asked, looking at the Young Women president in utter shock.
“Yes,” she said. “You’d only have to play one hymn each week for opening exercises. You can tell us ahead of time which one you choose, and practice during the week. Besides, it’s only for Young Women. You’re all friends anyway.”
“Well, I guess so. But I’m not making any promises,” was my response.
For as long as I could remember, my mother had been teaching me how to play the piano. But I was only to the point where I could study a piece of music one measure at a time and eventually memorize it.
For that first Sunday, I chose a piece in the key of C that looked fairly simple. I began practicing it, and it turned out to be quite a chore. But by the end of the week I had memorized the hymn and felt ready for Sunday. Unfortunately, with 20 girls singing and a director setting the pace, I was lost within the first three measures. I tried with all my might to catch up, but the song dragged on—a capella.
When the song ended, I buried my head into my folded arms through the opening prayer. At its conclusion I took a seat by my best friend who greeted me with a sympathetic pat on the back. I also received an affirmative thumbs up and a smile of encouragement from our Young Women president.
After class, she came over to talk to me. I figured she had realized her mistake and was going to let me sing each week rather than play. “So, what song will it be next week?” she asked. Silent groan.
The next week I spent every free second playing “Come Follow Me.” I was not going to make a fool of myself again. All this practicing did was slowly cause me to dislike the piano and dread the quickly approaching Sunday. However, I managed to master the hymn, and even practiced with my mom leading and my little sister singing. I was prepared.
Sunday came, and by the time we got to the part of the song “… the Savior said,” I was lost. Tears were forming in my eyes. I tried with all my might to blink them away, but couldn’t. It wasn’t fair. I had worked so hard—and for what? More embarrassment.
I finally decided there was only one thing to do. I looked very closely at the final measure through my tears. I wanted to play the last chord of the song, and I carefully placed my shaking fingers on each key while the young women warbled on without me. “With God’s own loved, begotten Son.” I attacked that last chord with all the power I could muster, then confidently bowed my head for the prayer.
Unfortunately, the prayer was delayed until everyone stopped laughing. I can see the humor in it now, but at the time I decided to never touch another piano key for the rest of my life.
Thankfully, I stuck with the weekly chore. As the Sundays went by, playing became easier. I used most of my free time to practice the piano, which helped me learn how to play without having to memorize the piece.
I still play a hymn each week and usually hit a few sour chords. Every day I sit down at the old piano and play all sorts of music. I have gained a talent that I love, but almost missed.
I’m so thankful that after my first catastrophic experience, I was convinced to stick with it and not give up. I think about the friendly smile from my supportive president, and realize my assignment to play each week was a blessing in disguise.

Fire has been used to describe a wide range of things, from romantic love to a “burning” testimony. Another common association with fire is anger. Ever heard of someone being described as “hotheaded” or as having a “fiery” temper?

Anger, like fire, can appear suddenly and without warning. Both can destroy anything they touch. Yet there’s something intriguing about fire. If you cut off its access to fuel, the flames vanish. The same principle applies to anger.

Object lesson time!

Supplies
Baking soda (aka sodium bicarbonate)
Vinegar
Tall drinking glass (see-through is more fun to watch, but not necessary)
Measuring spoons
Candle and flame source

Explain to your family that in this object lesson, fire represents anger. Ask somebody to read the following story by President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008). As they read the story, light the candle.

“Many years ago I worked for one of our railroads. A switchman was aimlessly strolling about the platform one day. I asked him to move a car to another track. He exploded. He threw his cap on the pavement and jumped up and down on it, swearing like a drunken sailor. I stood there and laughed at his childish behavior. Noting my laughter, he began to laugh at his own foolishness. He then quietly climbed on the switch engine, drove it over to the empty car, and moved it to an empty track.”1

Resting on the stone steps of the ancient ruins of Dzibilchaltún in Mexico, Sandra Hernández and Meily Tolosa quietly consider the scattered ruins of a city nearly 1,500 years old. The silence around them is almost as heavy as the humid tropical air. But the peaceful moment doesn’t last long.
The silence shatters as Samuel Hernández comes hooting and hollering out of the thick jungle, which grows right up to the edge of the small pyramid. His friends Jorge Tolosa and Wilbert Agosta follow right behind him.
“Oh, I thought I was going to die,” he laughs as he throws himself down onto the steps and tries to catch his breath. Picking their way through the jungle, Samuel and his friends had been making their way toward a partially overgrown structure when they startled a flock of hidden birds. The birds weren’t the only ones startled. “Oh, my heart,” Samuel says, laughing.
Samuel, Meily, and other youth from the Canek Ward, Mérida México Centro Stake, are spending the day exploring some of Mexico’s ancient ruins. Dzibilchaltún is just one of the thousands of crumbling settlements left throughout the Americas by ancient inhabitants.
The land from central Mexico to Honduras (also called Mesoamerica) has been home to many thriving civilizations. On this trip to Dzibilchaltún, the youth are grateful that ruins of some of their ancestors’ cities have been preserved so they can explore where their ancestors lived. “It’s interesting to learn what my ancestors did and what happened to them,” says Jorge, a deacon.
In the same way, these youth are thankful that the record of the family of Lehi has been preserved so they can learn from its teachings and experiences. “I’m grateful the Lord preserved the Book of Mormon for us to learn from,” Jorge says.
Many Nephite prophets, such as Nephi, Enos, and Mormon, prayed that the Lord would preserve their testimonies of Jesus Christ to help their descendants (see 2 Ne. 25:21; Enos 1:16–18; W of M 1:8).
As He promised, the Lord preserved their records and brought them to light again through the Prophet Joseph Smith. Now the Book of Mormon is bringing the descendants of Book of Mormon peoples—and other people from all around the world—to Jesus Christ.
“I’m so grateful for the Book of Mormon,” says Carmen Hernández, a Mia Maid who hopes to thank the Book of Mormon prophets someday. “When I meet them,” she says, “I will say, ‘Thank you for helping so many people find answers and come to Christ.’” (See 2 Ne. 33:11; Jacob 6:13; Ether 12:38.)

Mike was nervous. The bow tie made his collar tight, and he couldn’t get his finger to where it itched. His Primary teacher, Brother Thompson, looked at the squirmy nine-year-old and shook his head. He had often thought that Mike was more interested in soccer than the scriptures. Today Brother Thompson was right.

It wasn’t that Mike didn’t like the scriptures. It was just that the big game was a week away, and Mike was having trouble thinking about anything else.

“Mike,” said Brother Thompson, “can you tell me what Jesus did when He learned that His friend Lazarus had died?”

Mike hadn’t been listening. He had been staring out the window and thinking about the Pocatello soccer fields, where the league championship would be decided next Saturday.

Mike played in the league for nine- and ten-year-olds. His team had won all their games. But Mike’s coach had said that they had been lucky to win some of them, and half of them had been won by only one goal. Next Saturday would be the championship game. Mike’s team, the Eagles, would play the Lasers. The Lasers were also undefeated in their league, but they had won every game by at least four goals.

Mike thought about what his coach had told him the day before.

“Mike?” Coach Griego had asked, “Do you want to win next week?”

“You bet!”

“Do you think we will win?”

“I think the Lasers are gonna cream us,” Mike had answered truthfully.

“Well, I know one thing,” Coach Griego had said. “In order for us to have a chance at winning, you’ll have to play a good game. You’re our best player, Mike. You’re really going to have to take charge out there.”

Mike thought about what Coach Griego had said. He felt glad that his coach thought that he was the best player on the team. But it made him feel bad, too, because if the Eagles lost, it would probably be his fault.

Brother Thompson continued his lesson … “When Jesus learned that His friend Lazarus had died, He went to where His friend was buried. His disciples wondered why Jesus would leave His important teaching to go to someone who was already dead. But Jesus did what He knew was right. Jesus loved his friend, and one of the lessons he wanted to teach was that we should always do the kindest thing.”

Mike was listening to his teacher now. So was the boy sitting next to him, Clint Price. Clint was on Mike’s soccer team, but Clint was as thin and wispy as Mike was strong and solid. They played a lot of soccer together at home during the week, but at team practice, Mike acted like he hardly knew Clint. All the kids thought that Clint was the worst player on the team, and Mike liked to be around the best players. Clint pretended that it didn’t bother him.

“When Jesus went to see Lazarus,” Brother Thompson continued, “He wept for His friend. Then He prayed to Heavenly Father and raised His friend from the dead. Surely He would have liked to have healed His friend so that he didn’t have to die, but if He had, He would not have shown that He had power over death. He knew that it was important to wait till Lazarus had died before He helped him. So remember how important it is to always do the right thing.”

During the week Mike sometimes pictured his team beating the Lasers by two or three goals. Then he’d think about what it would be like if the Lasers won by their usual four points.

“OK,” said the coach just before the game started. “They’re big, all right, but that means that they’re slow. We can beat them with speed and passing. Now, get out there and win!”

The Lasers soon had the ball sailing toward the goal. The Eagle goalie almost muffed the ball, but he managed to drop-kick it back toward the center of the field.

Mike knew at once that it would be a rough game. The Lasers knew how to use their size. Whenever they powered the ball downfield, several Eagles were knocked down in the process.

The Lasers scored first with a hard shot from just in front of the goal. This time the ball went into the net so fast that the Eagle goalie didn’t have time to react. The Lasers scored again just before halftime on a high kick that came down in front of the goal. A tall Laser player jumped up and butted the ball into the goal with his head. The Eagles walked off the field dejectedly at halftime. The score was Lasers 2, Eagles 0.

No one was more unhappy than Mike. He hadn’t played for most of the first half after he’d collided with a Laser player and hurt his leg. On the sideline he’d done the stretching exercises his coach had showed him. “Coach,” Mike said just before the second half, “those exercises really helped. I’m ready to go back in and play.”

“Good,” said the coach. “We need you.”

For the first five minutes of the second half, the Eagles played evenly with the Lasers. Then the Eagles got the break that they’d been waiting for. A Laser was called for a tripping foul in front of the Laser goal. The Eagles got a penalty kick, and they scored on a high shot that went just inside the net. The score was Lasers 2, Eagles 1.

Less than a minute later the Eagles scored again when the Laser goalie slipped while diving for the ball. Tie game.

The Lasers were angry now. Determined to win the game no matter what, they were called for several roughness penalties. But the Eagles just couldn’t capitalize on them. As the clock began to run out, the score was still 2–2.

Then, when a Laser missed an inbounds pass, the Eagles got the ball and forwarded it to Mike. He turned and looked at the goal, about thirty yards away. Gritting his teeth, he started upfield. Mike was not as large as most of the Lasers, but he was a lot quicker. He outran one defender, faked past another, and suddenly was in the clear, streaking toward the goal with only the goalie to stop him. Mike got ready to take his shot—then he saw something that changed everything.

Normally, Coach Griego didn’t play Clint if the game was close, but because of injuries, the coach had no choice. Clint didn’t like the Lasers’ rough style of play, but he had run near the sideline and slightly behind Mike, just in case …

Near the goal the Laser goalie charged at Mike and dived as Mike’s foot hit the ball. But the ball didn’t go toward the net. The words of Brother Thompson had flashed through Mike’s mind:

“Do the right thing.” Mike sent the ball to Clint, who dribbled just beyond Mike, then drew his leg back to make the kick, the biggest kick of the season.

The ball sailed up and over the top of the goal, missing the net completely. The referee blew his whistle, and the game was over, ending in a 2–2 tie. The Lasers and the Eagles were cochampions.

The Eagles kicked up clods of dirt as they left the field. Clint and Mike were still standing by the goal when the coach walked over. “Why didn’t you score?” he almost shouted at Mike. “The goalie was out of position, and we could have won the game.”

Mike was thinking about what Brother Thompson had said about helping a friend and about doing what’s right. “Clint was open,” Mike explained. “You told us that we’d win with passing, so I passed the ball to Clint.”

The coach shook his head and left the field. A moment later Mike felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Clint’s parents. “Mike,” said Clint’s mother, “I’d just like you to know how glad we are that you passed the ball to Clint. That was the first time that he had a chance to score a goal all year. And it almost went in; it really did. Thank you.”

Clint’s parents walked off the field with their son, their arms around his shoulder. On the sideline Mike’s family waited. His father was smiling. “Mike,” he said, “that was quite a thing you did out there. I’m proud of you, Son.”

“Clint was open,” Mike said simply as they all walked to the car. “It was the right thing to do.”

A few years ago, neighbors who frequently hired our daughter, Elizabeth, as a babysitter, complimented us on what a wonderful daughter we had. They asked what we had done to raise a young woman who felt so comfortable interacting with adults. I immediately began a mental scan of our parenting strategies to see which one might explain this particular positive outcome. But my review was cut short by a gentle rebuke from the Spirit: "Do you think visiting and serving her grandmother and other elderly people every week for several years might have had something to do with this?" At the time, my mother was engaged in a decade-long bout with a particularly nasty, strain of Alzheimer's that impaired not only her memory but her perception of reality. I confess that if it had been up to me, I would have chosen to lose my mother to a heart attack instead. But in that moment, I couldn't help but think about how my daughter had been shaped and blessed over that decade of affliction by serving and loving my mother and other elderly people. Indeed, even after my mother passed away, my children have chosen to continue our family tradition of singing together every Sunday afternoon with our friends the Thomases to residents of the assisted living facility where my mother spent her final two years. As I watch Elizabeth interact in a remarkably mature and caring way with these precious children of God, I recognize that my mother's prolonged suffering played a preparatory role in my family's life in ways I did not fully appreciate at the time. This experience has helped me better obey the command to "thank the Lord thy God in all things[, ]"[22] including preparatory afflictions.

While talking to a friend going through a difficult time, I asked how he was surviving financially. In tears, he replied that his bishop was helping him using fast-offering funds. He added, “I don’t know where my family and I would be if it wasn’t for the Church.” I replied, “The Church is the members. They are the ones who willingly and joyfully give fast offerings to help those of us in need. You are receiving the fruits of their faith and determination to follow Jesus Christ.”

I was almost 12 years old when the Twin Falls Idaho Temple was dedicated. I was so excited when my older sister asked me for the first time if I wanted to start going to the temple regularly with her and her friend.
I was happy when my younger brother Tanner turned 12 three years later because I could finally invite him to attend the temple with me.
Each morning that we went, we would help each other get up and go, and when we were tired Tanner would make jokes to help us wake up. After going to the temple, we would take some time to talk about how we’d felt in the temple and what we’d thought about.
Going to the temple with Tanner became the spiritual highlight of my week. Through our regular temple visits we became better friends, which strengthened me more than I would have imagined when some trials came my way. Our two older sisters had left for college and our ward had just been split, leaving Tanner and me as some of the only active youth in our ward.
Tanner and I spent hours calling and inviting less-active youth to church and Mutual. It often felt like a hopeless effort because no one ever came no matter how many girls I tried to befriend.
Our parents tried to help. They would bear testimony to us when we were discouraged, and they let us talk out our frustration when we came home upset. But even so, we didn’t suddenly have more friends at church, and wanting to go when I’d be the only young woman there was getting harder and harder. Our temple visits started becoming less frequent because of our busy school schedules.
I spent a lot of time reading my scriptures and pleading with the Lord to help me be strong. I was lonely and tired—tired of being alone, tired of my efforts not making a difference, tired of struggling spiritually and emotionally.
During this time, I worked as a lifeguard at the city pool. I liked being there a lot more than I liked being at church because my co-workers were my friends and were always excited to see me. One day I decided that I wouldn’t go back to Mutual since work was more fun and more helpful for me financially.
I didn’t think it was a big deal until I noticed myself lowering my standards. I didn’t say anything about my friends’ swearing, and one day I was shocked to hear myself accidentally swear when I never had before. I even watched an inappropriate movie one night at a party with my lifeguarding friends. I felt terrible and wondered what I was doing.
Meanwhile my parents had told me how much more lonely Tanner had become since I stopped attending Mutual. Every week he would ask me, “Hey, are you going to come to Mutual tonight?” When he would get home from Mutual, he would go straight to his room and read his scriptures for a long time. He wasn’t talking as much anymore, and when I asked if he was OK, he just said, “No” and walked away.
One night he came home crying because he had felt so alone.
That’s when I decided that I needed to go back. It didn’t matter how hard being alone was for me; Tanner needed me.
Tanner had been taking a family history course at church, and I decided that I wanted to take it with him. We wanted to start going to the temple more regularly again, and now we would be able to find names ourselves.
We enjoyed taking the class together on Sundays. After church, we’d search for names together. The coolest thing about taking our own names to the temple was that we had found them together, and even better, we were able to support each other at church and even enjoy church because we were doing the Lord’s work.
Tanner’s diligence in attending church and Mutual was a powerful example to me. I had a testimony of the gospel, but he helped me gain a testimony of attending church meetings and activities.
Together we were able to comfort one another and use our testimonies of the temple to help each other be strong in the Church. Youth attendance at church and Mutual never really got better, but Tanner and I became stronger and more able to bear our burdens as we helped each other press forward.
I’m so glad that I invited him to come to the temple with me. While I’m sure it helped him, I know it rescued me.

As soon as Dad came home, I asked him, “How can wishes come true?”
“I can’t tell you,” he answered, “but I wish my good suit was cleaned and pressed. I need it tomorrow.” Looking at Mom’s note saying that she would be late, he started picking up the living room. “Hmmm … it needs the full treatment,” he said. He wheeled out the vacuum cleaner.
When Mom came home, she looked around with pleasure at the clean, inviting living room. And the next morning Dad was happy to find his freshly pressed suit in his closet.

When I was 11, my family had to leave East Germany. We moved to Frankfurt, West Germany. I attended the Frankfurt Branch, which was not as big as the one in Zwickau. The Frankfurt meetinghouse was small, and we had classes in the basement. The missionaries taught us important gospel principles.
One missionary, Elder Stringham, impressed me very much with his lessons on the Pearl of Great Price, especially where Moses is being taught that he is a son of God (see Moses 1:3–4). Elder Stringham also taught me the scripture that says, “If God be for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31). This gave me comfort and courage, because at that time the future looked bleak in Germany. The city of Frankfurt was in ruins with bombed-out buildings. That teaching has stayed with me throughout my life. It taught me that I need to be on the Lord’s side. I cannot afford not to be on the Lord’s side.

As Brother Nakamura gained experience in the Church, the idea of being sealed in the temple and of serving the Lord in that sacred building grew in his heart. Then, in 1973 (about seven years before the Tokyo Temple was dedicated), the Nakamura family had the opportunity to travel to California to be sealed in the Los Angeles Temple.

While traveling to the temple, they almost missed some airline flights and even wondered whether their airplane would arrive safely. But their prayers for a safe journey were answered. Brother Nakamura says he realizes now how important that trip was. “My main goal after that was to spend time in the temple, especially serving with my wife.”