Gospel Story Finder

I was new to our neighborhood, so I was excited when a boy named Ken* came over to play. One day we rode our bikes past a silver car that had silver hubcaps on the wheels. Ken said to me, “Hey, Spencer, steal one of those hubcaps.”
“I’m not going to do that!” I said. I didn’t want to break one of Heavenly Father’s commandments. Ken decided to steal it himself.
I didn’t feel good about what Ken had done, so I told my mom. After talking with her, I told Ken that he should return the hubcap he stole, and that I didn’t want to play with him if he kept it. I was really happy when Ken took the hubcap back.

It was Saturday afternoon. Ammon wanted to have some fun.
“Mamma,” he said, “may I go outside and play?”
“First you must tidy your room,” Mamma said.
“But, Mamma,” Ammon said, “can’t my room wait?”
“We want to invite someone important to be our guest. So we want our house to be clean and neat.”
“An important guest?” Ammon said. “In our home?”
“Yes, and you can help invite him,” Mamma said. “So go and tidy up your room.”
Ammon was excited. He liked having guests. He wondered who the guest would be. The mayor? The headmaster from school? Maybe it would be the bishop!
Ammon went to his room. First he found his dirty socks on the floor. He put them in the laundry basket. Then Ammon set his schoolbook on the desk. He wanted the guest to know he liked to learn new things.
Ammon’s big sister, Angel, came to his room. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Mamma said we’re having an important guest,” Ammon said. “She asked me to help get ready for him.”
They both looked up to see Mamma at the door.
“What else can we do to get ready?” Ammon said. “We want our important guest to feel welcome.”
“What ideas do you have?” Mamma asked.
“We can say karibu,” Ammon said. In Swahili that means, “You are welcome in our house. You are welcome to speak.”
“We can listen,” Angel said. “It’s important to listen.”
“Those are good ideas,” Mamma said. “Let’s see what Baba (Dad) says when he gets home.”
In about an hour, Baba arrived.
Ammon was waiting. “Mamma says we are inviting a special guest to our house. We’ve been getting ready.”
Baba smiled. “I’m glad. Come. Sit. Let’s talk. Angel, please come too.”
When they were all together, Baba said, “Mamma and I have been talking about our special guest and what we can do to make him feel welcome. First, I will tell you who our guest is. It is the Holy Ghost. He’s one of the most important guests of all.”
Ammon and Angel looked at each other. That’s not who Ammon expected!
“And He’s a guest we can invite to be with us all the time,” Mamma said. “Angel, after you were baptized, you were confirmed. And you were given a gift. Do you remember what Baba said in the blessing?”
“He told me to receive the Holy Ghost.”
“That’s right,” Mamma said. “You were invited to receive the Holy Ghost. So, Ammon, when I said you could help invite Him, what did I mean?”
Ammon thought. He had planned to make a card to invite their guest. But how could he invite the Holy Ghost? “I guess that by doing things to make Him feel welcome, I am inviting Him,” Ammon said.
“That’s right!” Baba said. “One way we can invite Him into our home is by making it neat and clean.”
“Is that why Mamma wanted us to tidy our rooms?” Ammon asked.
“Yes!” Mamma said. “What else can we do to invite Him to be with us?”
“We can pray,” Ammon said. “And read scriptures.”
“We can listen to good music,” Angel said. “We can sing hymns together.”
“We can be nice and not fight,” Ammon said.
“That’s right,” Baba said. “When we try to do what Jesus Christ taught, we invite the Holy Ghost to be with us. And He will help our home be a place where we can feel love and peace.”
Ammon thought for a minute. “You’re right, Baba. The Holy Ghost is one of the most important guests of all!”

Clara loved her family’s Christmas Eve traditions. First they ate baked fish for dinner and Christmas cookies for dessert. Then they visited the Christmas market. When they got home, they read the Christmas story from the Bible together. And before bed they lit the Christmas tree for the first time and got to open one present each. It was Clara’s favorite night of the year. She could hardly wait!

Until Mom made an announcement.

“We’re having a special Christmas Eve guest this year. Remember Ms. Rainer?”

Clara groaned. “The neighbor Dad invited to church last week?”

“That’s right. Dad’s picking her up now.”

Clara plopped into a chair. How could she relax and have fun with a stranger around? Christmas Eve was ruined! Well, Ms. Rainer hadn’t come to church when Dad invited her. Maybe she wouldn’t come this time either.

But when Dad came through the door, the “special guest” was with him. Ms. Rainer looked tired and kind of sad. Clara said hello. But she didn’t want to say anything else. At dinner she just focused on her food while Mom and Dad chatted with Ms. Rainer.

“Have you ever taken dance lessons?” asked a soft voice. Clara saw that Ms. Rainer was waiting for her to answer. She nodded and looked back down at her plate.

“Me too,” said Ms. Rainer, her voice still quiet. “What’s your favorite dance style?”

Clara shrugged and pushed her vegetables around her plate.

“I love ballet,” Ms. Rainer said. “I was on a dance team at university. One year we traveled all over Europe. It was amazing.”

Clara looked up. That did sound amazing.

“What else do you like?” asked Clara.

Ms. Rainer gave a small smile. “Playing the piano. And math.”

Clara’s eyes got big. “Really? Math is my favorite subject!”

Clara talked to Ms. Rainer for the rest of dinner. She found out that Ms. Rainer had a college degree in math and was studying to become a math professor when she met her husband. He had made some bad choices and was now in prison.

After dinner Clara stayed by Ms. Rainer while they walked around the Christmas market. And when they read the Christmas story, she shared her scriptures with Ms. Rainer so she could follow along.

Soon it was time to open presents. Clara got some cozy purple pajamas. She couldn’t wait to put them on! But she felt a little bad that Ms. Rainer didn’t have a present.

Just then Mom handed a gift to Ms. Rainer. Ms. Rainer smiled shyly and unwrapped a pair of dark blue socks. She looked up at Mom with watery eyes. “Thank you. You really didn’t need to get me anything.”

Clara went to her bedroom and put on her new pajamas. She couldn’t stop thinking about Ms. Rainer. She seemed so grateful to get socks for Christmas!

As Clara slipped her own fuzzy socks on, she heard beautiful music begin to play. She ran downstairs to find Mom and Dad singing carols while Ms. Rainer played the piano. Clara joined in. As she sang, a warm feeling grew in her heart. “I guess it’s not so bad to have a guest on Christmas Eve,” she thought.

On Sunday, Ms. Rainer came to church and sat with Clara’s family during sacrament meeting. She looked really happy. Clara smiled as she shared her hymnbook with Ms. Rainer. Maybe it was time to add a new Christmas Eve tradition.

When I was a Beehive, one of my leaders really encouraged me to complete the Personal Progress value experiences. Soon I had finished one value and was looking forward to finishing them all.
But during my junior year of high school, I quit working on Personal Progress. I was going through one of the hardest times in my life, and I began to doubt a lot of things. I just didn’t see how Personal Progress could help me during my trials. But in the past, doing Personal Progress had helped me see my worth and keep me on the straight and narrow path, and I missed that.
As I started Personal Progress again, I realized I was also heading back to the place my Heavenly Father wanted me to be spiritually. Personal Progress helped me see the worth in myself and in others, finish reading the Book of Mormon, gain a testimony of the gospel, and grow closer to God.
Alexis T., California, USA

In 1972, when Devin was 11, we moved from Salt Lake City to Kentucky. Two years later Devin led his junior high team to the county championship. In one of the crucial games, Devin came to the foul line after the game had ended to shoot a foul. If he made it, his team would win. If he missed, it would be an overtime.
I had made it a practice to not pray about the outcome of games because it seems to me there are more important matters to pray about. As Devin prepared to shoot, I tried to follow my previous practice. I didn’t pray as he came to the foul line, but just as the ball was about to leave his hand, I could restrain myself no longer. Within my soul I cried out, “Please, dear Lord, let him make it.” And he did. A few seconds later we embraced. Basketball isn’t that important, but sons are.

In February 2022, Sister Basilisa Nadreke Lotawa was asked by the Sigatoka Branch President (a lay church leader) to serve as a temple and family history specialist. Basilisa’s job was to urge her congregation to lift their spiritual eyes to the light of the temple and to prepare themselves for temple worship. She also had to learn how to do genealogical research then teach her fellow Saints how to identify their deceased ancestors in order to participate by proxy, temple ordinances on their behalf.
Basilisa, a young mother of three, shook her head and laughed. “I knew nothing about doing family history—nothing . . . and I’m too young to do it.” Still, wanting to serve the Lord, she sought the help of an experienced genealogist and was soon able to assist her branch members. With a new conviction and passion for family history, Basilisa expressed: “I am so blessed and honoured to participate in this glorious work. It has been marvelous, tremendous! I have seen miracles and wonders. The Lord provided a way for me to do the work and to help my branch.”
With young children in tow, Basilisa spent many hours at the computer in her chapel helping others to extend the branches of their family trees. She invited them—adults and youth—to find five deceased family members who needed proxy baptisms. Branch members caught her enthusiasm and found two hundred ancestors!
As for Basilisa, there is no doubt that her love for the temple and family history work—even at this busy stage of her life, will continue to bless her. She said: “I feel the same joy doing this [work] that I felt when I served my mission.” She and her branch now keep their eyes fixed firmly on the holy temple.

I had been playing the violin for three years before I started taking private lessons. My teacher, Robert Stoyanov, had emigrated from Russia some years before I was born and was a well-respected member of the Colorado Symphony Orchestra. Mr. Stoyanov enjoyed chatting. Occasionally, he would tell me stories about his childhood in Russia, and he often questioned me about how my family was doing and asked about school.
One time, the conversation turned to religion, and I told him I belonged to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When he gave me a puzzled look, I said, “Most people know us as Mormons.” He then told me of several LDS students in the past. In future lessons, he would occasionally inquire about what we believe, and I would explain to the best of my ability.
One day he asked about something, which led to something else, which led to something else, and for 20 minutes, I was in a question-and-answer session. It was then that I started thinking about giving Mr. Stoyanov a copy of the Book of Mormon.
I had my doubts, of course. Mr. Stoyanov was a professional, well-educated man. I wondered if he would be receptive to the Book of Mormon at all.
I resolved to give him a copy of the book at my next lesson. My mom suggested we find a copy in Russian. We looked for a couple of days with no success and had almost given up when a good friend provided us with a copy she had purchased when her son was called to serve a mission in Ukraine. I wrote a quick note, wrote down the nearby missionaries’ address, slipped in a pass-along card about eternal families to mark Moroni 10:3–5, and went to my lesson.
I presented him with the gift and waited anxiously for his reaction. “This a present for me? Oh, thank you! Thank you so much. Your family are such wonderful people! God bless you.” He said this very fast and in a heavy Russian accent. Mr. Stoyanov had many more questions, which I answered as guided by the Spirit.
On my way out, he told me I was as well-grounded as all of his other Mormon students had been.
Later I started thinking about this remarkable experience and realized his acceptance of that priceless gift was not due to my example alone. Each of his Latter-day Saint students before me had planted seeds of faith. Each had left a small impression on him, and these impressions gradually prepared him to receive the Book of Mormon with enthusiasm. Never again will I think that no one is watching my actions. Someone always is.

Over the nineteen years of our marriage, nine beautiful children have blessed our home, along with many financial and occupational disappointments for my husband Craig, failing health for me, and increasing responsibilities outside the home competing for our limited time. During the years, as the stress increased, I found myself saying or thinking, “Maybe we aren’t really right for each other.”
I had also noticed that when Craig and I got a night out together, we really didn’t have much in common. For instance, he’d want to see a movie, and I’d want to go to the temple. He’d want to watch a soccer game or something like that, and I’d want to go to a dance or a concert.
I must have expressed my frustration, because one day Craig found himself repeating my statement, “Maybe we aren’t really right for each other.” Hearing himself say this out loud bothered him, for he spent the next few days praying and fasting about our marriage relationship and the frustrations we were feeling.
Then one evening he said, “You and I are like the basic colors—red, yellow, and blue. Between the two of us we have everything necessary to make a successful marriage and an eternal family. Together, we lack nothing. Just as it takes all three basic colors to make all the other colors, you and I, with Heavenly Father’s help, have the ability to blend our qualities to make a happy, eternal marriage.”
As I thought about that, I saw our differences from a new perspective. In our family, Craig is the one who radiates love. I’ve sometimes been jealous of that ability because I wanted to do that, too. I have a lot of love in me, but my love doesn’t always seem to come out graciously. Once, when I told Craig that I felt sad about not being able to express my love well, he replied, “But you bring spirituality into our family. You love to read the scriptures and listen to general conference, and you’re always eager to share what you have learned.” Suddenly I realized that Craig and I were helping each other and our children: he showed me how to give love, and I shared with him what I had learned from the scriptures and prophets.

Let’s face it, girls (and boys), it’s nice to know that someone loves you. And when you’re married, you have chances to share and receive love every day! When I was talking to my parents about the possibility of marrying Ben, my dad said, “Whomever you choose to marry, I want him to frequently and sincerely express his love for you like Elder Richard G. Scott did for his wife.”3 I listened to Dad.
I decided to marry Ben, and he has always made an effort to express his love to me in small and big ways. During my senior year of college, I worked for months to prepare, apply, and interview for a prestigious internship. And when I finally heard that I got the job, I came home and saw a vase full of flowers from my husband. He knew how hard I had worked and how much the internship meant to me. At other times, he’ll hide my favorite drink and a love note in the fridge before he heads out for a weekend Scout camp. And every day, he’ll do the dishes and make me laugh. Ben is great at expressing his love for me, and that brings both of us great joy.

Some years ago a young Primary boy was on a train going to California in the days when we traveled on trains. He was all alone. He sat near the window watching the telephone poles go by. Across the aisle from him was a gentleman who also was going to California. The attention of the gentleman was called to this very young boy traveling all alone without friends or relatives. He was neatly dressed and well-behaved. And this gentleman was quite impressed with him.
Finally, after some time, the gentleman crossed the aisle and sat down by the young man and said to him, “Hello, young man, where are you going?”
He said, “I am going to Los Angeles.”
“Do you have relatives there?”
The boy said, “I have some relatives there. I am going to visit my grandparents. They will meet me at the station, and I will stay with them a few days during the school vacation.”
The next questions were “Where did you come from?” and “Where do you live?”
And the boy said, “Salt Lake City, Utah.”
“Oh, then,” said the gentleman, “you must be a Mormon.”
And the boy said, “Yes, I am.” There was pride in his voice.
The gentleman said, “Well, that’s interesting. I’ve wondered about the Mormons and what they believe. I’ve been through their beautiful city; I’ve noticed the beautiful buildings, the treelined streets, the lovely homes, the beautiful rose and flower gardens, but I’ve never stopped to find out what makes them as they are. I wish I knew what they believe.”
And the boy said to him, “Well, sir, I can tell you what they believe. ‘We believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost’” (A of F 1:1).
The businessman was a bit surprised but listened intently, and the boy continued,
“‘We believe that men will be punished for their own sins, and not for Adam’s transgression’” (A of F 1:2).
And the traveling companion thought, “This is rather unusual for a mere boy to know these important things.”
The boy went on: “‘We believe that through the Atonement of Christ, all mankind may be saved, by obedience to the laws and ordinances of the Gospel’” (A of F 1:3). And the gentleman was amazed at the knowledge and understanding of a mere boy—he was yet to be a Scout. But he continued and gave the fourth article of faith and said, “‘We believe that the first principles and ordinances of the Gospel are: first, Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ; second, Repentance; third, Baptism by immersion for the remission of sins; fourth, Laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost.’”
“That is wonderful,” said the gentleman. “I am amazed that you know so well the doctrines of your church. I commend you.”
With a good start and with encouragement, Johnny continued. “‘We believe that a man must be called of God, by prophecy, and by the laying on of hands, by those who are in authority, to preach the Gospel and administer in the ordinances thereof’” (A of F 1:5).
“That’s very solid doctrine, my boy,” the gentleman said. “I am curious now to know how they get called of God. I can understand how they would receive the call and be established with the laying on of hands, but I wonder who has the authority to preach the gospel and administer in the ordinances thereof.”
They discussed the matter of calling and sustaining and laying on of hands. Then the lad said, “Would you like to know more?”
The gentleman thought that was very unusual for a boy in these tender years to know what the Church taught, and he said, “Yes, go on.”
So Johnny quoted, “‘We believe in the same organization that existed in the Primitive Church, namely, apostles, prophets, pastors, teachers, evangelists, and so forth’” (A of F 1:6).
That brought some other discussion. “You mean that your church has Apostles such as James and John and Peter and Paul, and prophets such as Moses, Abraham, Isaac, and Daniel, and also evangelists?”
And the boy responded quickly, “Yes, even evangelists. We call them patriarchs, and they are appointed in all parts of the Church where there are stakes. And by inspiration they give to all the members of the Church, as required, what is called a patriarchal blessing. I have already had my patriarchal blessing, and I read it frequently. Now we have 12 Apostles who have the same calling and the same authority as given to the Apostles in the days of old.”
The gentleman came back with these questions: “Do you speak in tongues? Do you believe in revelations and prophecies?”
And the boy brightened up as he quoted, “‘We believe in the gift of tongues, prophecy, revelation, visions, healing, interpretation of tongues, and so forth’” (A of F 1:7).
The gentleman gasped. “This sounds like you believe in the Bible!”
And the boy repeated again, “We do. ‘We believe the Bible to be the word of God as far as it is translated correctly; we also believe the Book of Mormon to be the word of God’” (A of F 1:8).
The gentleman discerned that we believe both in the scriptures and in revelation. And the boy quoted, “‘We believe all that God has revealed, all that He does now reveal, and we believe that He will yet reveal many great and important things pertaining to the Kingdom of God’” (A of F 1:9). And then he continued, “‘We believe [also] in the literal gathering of Israel and in the restoration of the Ten Tribes; that Zion (the New Jerusalem) will be built upon the American continent; that Christ will reign personally upon the earth; and, that the earth will be renewed and receive its paradisiacal glory’” (A of F 1:10).
The gentleman was listening intently. He showed no interest in crossing the aisle back to his own seat. Then Johnny came in again. He said, “‘We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, or what they may’” (A of F 1:11). He then continued, “‘We believe in being subject to kings, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law’” (A of F 1:12).
And then as a final contribution, the boy repeated the thirteenth article of faith: “‘We believe in being honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and in doing good to all men; indeed, we may say that we follow the admonition of Paul—We believe all things, we hope all things, we have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.’”
This youngster relaxed now as he finished the Articles of Faith. The gentleman was clearly excited, not only at the ability of this young boy to outline the whole program of the Church, but at the very completeness of its doctrine.
He said, “You know, after I have been to Los Angeles a couple of days, I expect to go back to New York where my office is. I am going to wire my company that I will be a day or two late and that I am going to stop in Salt Lake City en route home and go to the information bureau there and hear all the things, in more detail, about what you have told me.”
I am wondering how many of you know the Articles of Faith. … Have you repeated them? You are always prepared with a sermon when you know the Articles of Faith.
Joseph Smith did, two years before his death, in a letter to a newspaper editor, John Wentworth. Mr. Wentworth had asked for information about the Church. The Prophet Joseph wrote to him about the First Vision, the coming forth of the Book of Mormon, the organization of the Church, and the persecution Church members faced. The Prophet finished the letter by listing 13 of our key beliefs, which are now called the Articles of Faith.
To read the Prophet Joseph’s entire letter, see “Gospel Classics: The Wentworth Letter” (Ensign, July 2002) in the Gospel Library at www.lds.org.

The two missionaries serving in the Philippines San Fernando Mission are walking side by side, making their way up the stairs. This is no easy trick, and going up and down stairs is not an afterthought. Elder Dominador Sabit III takes his companion, Elder Michelangelo Benigno, by the arm and they begin their ascent. Elder Benigno struggles, and Elder Sabit patiently helps his companion along. It’s slow going, but there’s no other way. Elder Benigno suffers from Guillain Barre syndrome, a muscle disorder that he contracted when he was three. For as long as he can remember, his legs have never worked right. The braces he wears on both legs help him maneuver, but they’re made of iron and are plenty heavy.

Elder Benigno shows similar enthusiasm. He remembers the day his mission call came. “I was so happy I was almost jumping. I wish I could jump,” he says smiling.

Preparing to serve a mission had always been a part of Elder Benigno’s life. He had read the standard works by the time he was 11. “I could just watch my playmates chasing around while I was sitting down observing them,” he says. “That is why I read. I just focused on the books I read, and it helped me a lot.” Before leaving on his mission, Elder Benigno taught the youth in his ward about missionary service as Young Men president.

“I told myself, if I didn’t have this disability, I wouldn’t serve as an inspiration to others. I want to serve as an example to the young men in my home ward and to the people that I am teaching on my mission,” he adds.

A modern apostle spoke before thousands of university students at Christmastime, sharing his spiritual deepening through retracing the Lord’s steps in Israel. He gave his audience vivid glimpses of the scenes of Christ’s birth, ministry, death, and resurrection. Yet four years later the apostle stood in the same pulpit and traced in a more meaningful way “the paths and the lanes we had traveled in that Holy Land where the Master had traveled.”1 He now felt “how short-sighted then was my view of the path where Jesus walked.”2 Seven years later Harold B. Lee became president of the Church, and his growing experience suggests a deeper meaning for walking in the steps of Jesus.
The paths of Palestine quickly tell visitors that Jesus did not come to a gentle environment. With the same arid climate as Utah, Israel is generally fractured by hills and jutting layers of rock. Sentimental illustrators drew the Savior on grassy slopes with brooks and shade. Irrigation or spring rains may change the land, but its reality is otherwise. Eliza R. Snow rode horseback into Jerusalem in 1873 and wrote of the “uneven” country;3 in the same group, George A. Smith mentioned leaving Jerusalem for Galilee in the midst of “a rocky, barren and almost desolate country.”4
A few years before, waspish Mark Twain sought to deglamorize the Galilean hillsides as “these unpeopled deserts, these rusty mounds of barrenness, that never, never, never do shake the glare from their harsh outlines.”5
He looked across the Sea of Galilee on a blistering day to imagine the New Testament swine running into the sea; in Twain’s unauthorized version they “doubtless thought it was better to swallow a devil or two and get drowned into the bargain than have to live longer in such a place.”6
Still earlier than Mark Twain (and with more reverence) Orson Hyde came to the land of Israel to dedicate it for the prophesied gathering of its people. Elder Hyde circled Jerusalem with spiritual thoughts in mind but could not escape the physical cost of walking there, commenting with mild humor: “After returning to the city, I found my feet and legs completely coated with dust; for the whole face of the country was like an ash bed in consequence of the great length of the dry season. I then thought how very convenient it must have been for the ancient disciples to fulfill one injunction of the Savior, ‘shake off the dust of your feet.’”7
In Israel one does not simply walk in the paths of Jesus, for that ignores the vertical dimension—often the path must be climbed. Jesus was born in the “hill country of Judea.” (Luke 1:65, 39.) He was likewise reared in Nazareth, which today slants steeply on hilly ridges. Luke noted the danger of the Lord being cast over “the brow of the hill” where the city was built. (Luke 4:29.) From his childhood Jesus attended Jerusalem feasts, descending on uneven roads, via the Sea of Galilee, where the Jordan route began. On occasion he might wind through the Samarian valleys. In both cases there was the final rocky ascent to the Holy City. In the Gospels travelers from Galilee (see John 2:13) or Jews from abroad (see John 12:20) correctly “go up” (anabaino) to Jerusalem, set high on Israel’s central spine. Jesus’ final journey was from Jericho (below sea level) to Jerusalem (elevation 2,500). He led the way through wastelands, “ascending up to Jerusalem.” (Luke 19:28.) Trudging up the backside of the Mount of Olives, Jesus next surveyed the city across the deep, eastern ravine. Then he mounted his donkey for “the descent of the Mount of Olives” (Luke 19:37), answering his detractors that if his followers would cease their praise, “the stones would immediately cry out” (Luke 19:40). This was but the latest journey of climbing and descending, normally through dust and rocks. Such physical travel becomes a powerful symbol of the great spiritual challenges that Jesus faced.
The Savior himself made this comparison in the Sermon on the Mount (see Matt. 7:13–14), stressing that men walk the “way” of salvation or destruction.
This word means literally “road” (hodos) and is used variously for path, street, or highway in the New Testament. The broad and well-traveled road is worn down and easy to walk on. But the path of salvation attracts comparatively few. It is “narrow,” a Greek term meaning “compressed” or “restricted.” Many translators make this the “hard road,” the “difficult road,” or the “rough road.” These are correct meanings, although they oversimplify the Lord’s figurative language. Jesus’ “way” is like a lightly traveled country trail. Because it is not well-worn, it remains rocky and uneven; because it is narrow, briars and thistles crowd close to whoever walks on it. The traveler of that path must be determined, for he advances through obstacles.
Jesus’ audience had climbed such footways to the mount of his sermon. A little experience with that countryside—or a glance at photographs of it—gives the picture plainly. In simple association, the Lord said that his path was the steep path; the way of sacrifice and effort. He lived such a life in the physical poetry of his land. He climbed the parched hills of temptation; he climbed to many mountains of prayer; he climbed the “high mountain apart” for his magnificent transfiguration. Since his saving mission was filled with steady exertion, no one follows him by giving less. Jesus’ challenge on the mount is well captured in a common saying: “You can always tell when you’re on the right road—it’s uphill all the way.”
President Lee knew all of this as a seasoned apostle touring the Holy Land. But he did not then envision greater trials to come, particularly the death of his beloved wife, whom he both cherished and relied upon. He had come home from his first experiences in Israel “never to feel the same again about the mission of our Lord and Savior and to have impressed upon me as I have never had it impressed before what it means to be a special witness.”8 Yet there was a trying Gethsemane of grief following the loss of his companion. What might have been despair became a deepened spiritual perception, which he could share before a second Brigham Young University audience. His earlier pictures of Jesus’ paths were “shortsighted” only because the real way to follow the Lord is to experience the trials that he surmounted. Thus a stronger Elder Lee could share a special companionship with Jesus:
“I have come to learn that only through heartbreak and a lonely walk through the valley of the shadow of death do we really begin to glimpse the path that Jesus walked. Only then can we come to claim kinship with Him who gave his life that men might be.”9
Jesus spoke of the “narrow way,” but also said that he himself was “the way.” (John 14:6.) He grew through years of obedience to his parents, of patience with brothers and sisters. For years he worked with his hands, his mind and spirit, in preparation for his mission. He knew joys but many sorrows, for scripture records his tears. His prayers express gratitude for success, but especially seek courage in great trials. His greatest success was not a materially rewarding life, but unswerving faith in the Father in every aspect of life. In a higher light, the land of the Lord becomes a parable more than a pilgrimage as modern disciples seek his way in every land of the earth.

It was very painful to face failures in my life, especially in my studies. In twelfth standard, I failed in my subjects again and again and again. It was too hard for me to bear. I almost gave up. But the Savior indeed helped me to stay strong and showed His bounteous mercy and grace to me, which helped me not to give up. Having a great hope in my heart, I took a different course and chose to do a diploma in mining engineering in which I was able to succeed. In fact, I was one of the toppers of my college in all six semesters of my 3-year course. It may sound magical, but it was a miracle. How did this happen? I testify that it was because of Christ’s grace that I received light in my life which helped me to have success in my education.

Standing by myself in the cabin, I scanned the room for my tape player and my notes for the devotional. Finding the items, I bent over to grab them, then realized I hadn’t the energy to do so. I dropped to my knees. The objects in my hand looked like pieces of Salvador Dali’s art as my eyes filled with tears. For nearly the first time all week, I had a moment alone. That was the real reason I’d left the group—under the pretense of needing supplies for the devotional—to be alone.
A nonmember best friend, Amber, and I had been acting as youth camp leaders at girls’ camp for the past week, and while I’d never loved anything more, I’d also never found myself working so hard. There had been midnight trips to drop off bags of garbage in the dumpster. One night, there had been bears to fend off with only flashlights. On another night, I accidentally boiled daddy long leg spiders while attempting to cook minidonuts on a camp stove. Amber and I had washed dishes long after everyone else had deserted. Birthdays, including Amber’s 16th, had been celebrated; devotionals had been given; hugs offered. Many embraces were shared in particular regarding our Sunday School teacher who had passed away the day before camp began. He’d been an especially good friend of our camp director, and with the funeral during the week, there’d been even more responsibility on our shoulders as well as aches in our hearts.
I stared at the stories and tapes in my hands. My throat hurt, and every word I’d said that evening had been like swallowing thistle. My back ached as well from carrying two girls’ packs on the six-mile hike after they’d become sick. I rubbed my eyes. Somehow I had to find the energy to be strong one more night, but the thought of walking to the fire pit we’d reserved for the evening was extremely unappealing. And what about Amber? I was convinced she hated the whole thing, and I hated myself for ruining her sweet 16th birthday.
With a sigh, I snapped. My head bowed, and a hot tear ran down a dirty cheek. I was out of power.
Out of power once again, I was in the cabin staring at my knees. The Lord may have cared enough to help with things as trivial as precalculus and malfunctioning calculators. Those drained batteries found power to make it through one class period. Surely he could help with this power failure. I closed my eyes, trapping a bead of moisture in my lashes. “Dear Heavenly Father …”
Taking a deep breath, I wiped my eyes, then began to stand up. The door burst open. One of the girls from our ward stood there, and I hoped I was enough in the shadows that she wouldn’t see the crimson embroidery in my eyes. She had been borrowing some things from me all week and was wondering if she could have my last something-or-other. I nodded, suddenly feeling even more exhausted. What type of answer was this?
As she turned to leave, she called over her shoulder, “Oh, it sounds like another ward is at our fire pit, so I guess we’ll have to have the devotional here.”
“But we’d reserved it!” I wanted to protest. The last night was always spent around a fire! I ran my hand through my hair, which by that point was desperately in need of a good shampoo, and angrily put the papers and tape player back where I’d grabbed them from.
The forced smile on my lips softened into a sincere one as the girls, leaders, and bishop filed into the cabin. Only then did it dawn on me. What a blessing not to have to go on a hike to the fire pit! What a blessing not to have to deal with building a fire and distributing marshmallows and graham crackers! It was only the start of the miracles. The dragon in my throat decided to take a nap, and the devotional rolled smoothly along. After we gave out humorous awards to all our campers, there was the testimony meeting. The Spirit filled the cabin, and tears filled my eyes as I listened to my sisters and best friends share their sweet testimonies.
I was the last to leave the cabin that night. In the dark, as I headed towards my own cabin, I reflected on the week. The murmur of girls getting ready for bed called a grin to my face, and I offered a silent prayer of gratitude. I’d entered that cabin a parched sponge, very much like my worn-out batteries from months before. I’d left it recharged. The instruction booklet for my calculator insists it cannot run without a continual source of good power. Neither can a spirit.

It was in that moment that I remembered back to when I was six. We had opened our front door one December night and were completely overwhelmed by the bags of gifts so generously placed on our doorstep. Our house was much warmer than usual that night because my father had been given firewood earlier that day. As a family of nine, we were barely making ends meet. That year especially, I could sense my parents’ uneasiness about Christmas day. I was limited to requesting only one toy. I had carefully chosen to ask for a “Peaches and Cream” Barbie doll, and I placed a torn-out newspaper picture of the doll up on the refrigerator. With my six-year-old heart and mind, I knew my one wish would come true.
Before heading off to bed, we knelt as a family on our old green carpet and gave a prayer of thanks for the few things that we did have. I remember going to bed feeling hungry. Each day food was practically the same—Cream of Wheat, oatmeal, or biscuits. I prayed that tomorrow—Christmas—would be different.
I snuggled in my blankets, and just as my eyes were about to close, I heard a muffled knock at the door. I followed the members of my family downstairs. As the door opened, an overwhelming feeling took over my little body. There were big black bags of gifts and food placed at our doorstep. I was so happy that I couldn’t believe my eyes. I said a whispered prayer of thanks, and I knew that my prayers that night had been heard. We carried the gifts inside and placed the bags of gifts under the tree.
Sleep did not come easily that night, but I managed a few hours before my sister Mary woke me. We eagerly ran downstairs, and to my eyes, it was as if the gifts had multiplied overnight. They were scattered around our tree. I again thought to myself about the one wish I had made. I picked up a gift that had “Meg” written on it, and I opened it carefully. I pulled out the most beautiful “Peaches and Cream” Barbie that I had ever seen. I hugged her, and I knew that I had not been forgotten. I learned several years later that my prayers were answered through the loving hands of those who generously helped out needy families.

A few weeks before I became eight years old, my father was killed in a trucking accident. A month later, we moved to a new home in St. George, Utah, across the street from the beautiful St. George Temple.
Mother was soon called to be the stake genealogy secretary. Whenever a group assigned could not make it, a member of the temple presidency would call mother to ask if her sons could come to the temple to do baptisms for the dead. Mother never turned the Lord down. My two older brothers and I often went to the temple to do baptisms.
One summer’s day, I had cut my hand severely on an empty tin can. I begged Mother not to take me to the doctor to have the wound stitched together, so she cleaned my hand, applied a bandage, covered that with adhesive tape, and then wrapped everything in gauze.
No sooner had she finished than the telephone rang. It was the brethren from the temple, wanting us boys to come over to do baptisms. Because my two older brothers had been very busy lately, I had been going to the temple on a regular basis. I had by now compiled a lengthy list of baptisms for the dead that ran into thousands. Once again, my older brothers were not around, so I hurriedly bathed, dressed, and ran over to the temple.
Several hours and four hundred names later, Brother Edwards and I stopped for the night. I remember him well, his right arm to the square revealing a hand missing most of the fingers because of an accident he had had in his youth. After every baptism, he would carefully help me up into the stainless steel chair for the confirmation. After every twenty or thirty baptisms, Brother Edwards would look down at me and say, “Brother Fish, can you do some more?” I would answer yes, and we would work our way through another batch of names.
As I returned home, exhausted, Mother spotted the dripping wet gauze on my hand and helped me into the bathroom to re-dress the wound. I was so tired and hungry I just wanted to eat and sleep. I wasn’t paying attention to my hand. I let her unwrap the bandage.
The gauze came off first, then the adhesive tape, and finally the bandage. My mother looked shocked. I looked down. Not a trace of a cut remained—no scar, no redness, nothing!
I remember my mother quietly hugging me. As we cried together, sharing that moment, the Spirit bore witness to me that I had been healed because of my service in the temple of the Lord.

Throughout my mission in Europe, a phrase in my patriarchal blessing about preaching the gospel in power reminded me I was on the Lord’s errand, and therefore I should speak with authority. When I returned home and began searching for a wife, I knew I must find someone who would help me be worthy. After all, my patriarchal blessing made reference to the joys of a righteous posterity. Today, I am thrilled to go to the temple with my six children and their companions, and I do find joy and rejoicing in my posterity.

When I read the May 2011 issue of the New Era, I came across the “Questions & Answers” article on dating before the age of 16. I was shocked, because I had recently had a boyfriend, even though I am not yet 16. When I read through the answers given, I felt the Spirit with me. I realized that by ending the relationship I was keeping the standards. I’m so glad the New Era was there for me.
Felisha L., Vermont, USA

David D’Arcy, 17, Adelaide. David was at a local shopping center when he and his mates were jumped by “some other blokes. We were fighting,” he says sheepishly. Suddenly the fight was broken up by the appearance of six men in suits, white shirts, and ties.
Later, a school friend introduced him to the missionaries—the same ones who had played peacemaker. David was baptized on his 17th birthday. “Those missionaries,” he says, “I love ’em.” Guess what David D’Arcy wants to be when he’s 19.

Ammon Arvidson and Brooke Noble of the Maitland Ward, Newcastle Australia Stake, were chosen to represent Port Stephens, Australia, at the first World Child Summit, held in Kushiro, Japan, last summer. The theme was “The Natural Environment and Our Future.”
Speaking of the presentations he made at the summit, Ammon, 12, said, “It makes me very aware of the beautiful world our Lord has created for us to enjoy.” Then thinking about all the people, languages, and cultures created by the Lord, Ammon added, “It makes me look forward to serving a mission wherever Heavenly Father sends me.”
Brooke, 15, added that being so far away from home also strengthened her testimony of the gospel: “It really helped me to know that the gospel goes with you wherever you go. It was such a comfort to be able to kneel down and pray to my Father in Heaven.”