Gospel Story Finder

Desmond Ahwireng, a youth, played Anansi, a legendary spider from African folklore. Onstage, Anansi went from village to village looking for all the good things in the world so he could keep them for himself, gathering them into a gourd he carried on his head. As he approached each village, the youth in that village sang and danced for him and gave him good things like courage, service, love, music, and family.
At the end of his journey, Anansi found the Accra Ghana Temple. The beauty of the temple convinced the selfish spider that he should not keep all the good things he had collected for himself, so he emptied the contents of his gourd to share them with everyone. Anansi’s good deed was greeted by 700 Primary children, all dressed in white, singing “I Am a Child of God” (Hymns, no. 301).
The youth in Ghana will remember the dedication of this temple. They, like Anansi, love to see the temple and hope its presence there will move them to share the good they have as they continue to follow the counsel of the prophet.

“Manya,” invited her mother, “go into the garden and play. Your sisters and your brother have been outdoors since daybreak and here you are with your nose still buried in that book.”
With a deep sigh, Manya Sklodowska obediently put down the book and went out to join her sisters and her brother. Soon tiring of playing in the garden, they went into the nearby forest to pick the berries that had just started to ripen. Of course, they ate more than they picked because none of them could resist the delicious sweetness of the fruit.
Although Manya, the youngest of the family, had been christened Marja, she immediately became Manya to her family and friends.
Manya’s childhood was a happy one. The Sklodowska family was poor in material things but they were wealthy with the richness that comes from love of God and their country Poland. Manya’s father had the post of Professor of Physics at the university in Warsaw and encouraged his children to read the books in his library.
Next to the bookshelves was a glass case containing what Professor Sklodowska called his specimens, which he had collected during his physics classes. It was here that Manya spent a great deal of her time. “Some day,” she told herself, “I will learn what each of these is.”
Although Manya was not old enough to attend regular school, her older sisters involved her when they studied. Because of this, Manya was soon able to read and write, even before she entered school.
One privilege she did not have was a place at the big desk where her sisters did their homework. But as soon as she became a student, she, too, was allowed to join them, and these occasions became some of the happiest moments of her life. Manya had the kind of memory that retained everything she read, a gift that lasted throughout her life.
Manya’s teachers found her to be an exceptional student, and her grades were always among the highest in her classes. Nothing seemed too difficult for her, and soon she found herself two years ahead of the rest of the students in her starting class. But often she thought of the glass shelf in her father’s study containing his specimens. She repeatedly told herself that one day they would no longer be a mystery to her.
After graduating from the Russian Lycee (high school), Manya was selected as a gold-medal winner. Although this was not the first time a member of her family had achieved that honor, this was a tremendous event in her life.
“I think I will take a holiday now,” she told her family and friends. “I need to relax.” And off she went to the countryside, far from the bustling city of Warsaw.
How she loved the country! All was peaceful and happy there with picnics, balls, and dances that lasted far into the night. Many handsome young Polish men came from the neighboring villages to join in the festivities.
Too soon the good times came to an end. Manya’s father had invested his money unwisely, and so the Sklodowska sisters had to find a way to earn a living for themselves. In those days there was little opportunity for well-brought up women to earn a livelihood. Manya decided that her way would be to become a teacher. This was the kind of work she loved. She was no longer called Manya but Mademoiselle Marja (Marie) instead, because she had become a young lady with the responsibility of teaching others.
For six years Marja did what she thought would be her life’s work—teaching others. However, all of this changed when, on a visit to her father, she immediately saw the changes that had taken place in her absence. He had been able to add a laboratory to his workroom. Although to many it seemed a strange place for a young lady to spend her time, Marja soon found herself very much at home among the test tubes and beakers. For the first time in her life, Marja knew what she was meant to do. First of all, though, she would have to continue with her studies.
All of her life Marja’s father had told her that there were many ways to solve a problem. Her funds were insufficient for her to spend additional time in school without help. She wrote to her married sister Bronia in Paris to see whether she could repay part of the money Marja had once loaned her to go to medical school. Bronia responded, and with that and what other money Marja managed to get together, she was able to return to school.
In Paris, Marja became completely involved with the study of physics. When she married a young scientist by the name of Pierre Curie, they worked as a team to discover two new elements, polonium and radium, now so important to the medical world.
The rest is history. Manya, Marja, or Marie (as the French people called her), together with her husband Pierre, made some of the most important discoveries in the annals of medicine. Countless lives have benefited because a young girl once told herself that one day she would know all about the minerals in her father’s workshop. Her dedicated research led her to find out things that even her father never dreamed of discovering.
In 1903, Marie and Pierre Curie shared the coveted Nobel Prize for Physics with Henri Becquerel. In 1911, five years after the untimely death of Pierre, Marie Curie was awarded the Nobel Prize for Chemistry.

In Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of the Congo, President Bokolo shares how he and his family joined the Church in France. One day, as he was reading his patriarchal blessing, the Spirit inspired Brother Bokolo to return with his family to the DR Congo. Brother Bokolo knew they would face many challenges if they returned. And their church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was not yet established in Kinshasa.

Yet, in faith, as have many others, the Bokolos followed the Lord’s Spirit. In Kinshasa, they ministered to and blessed those around them, overcame challenges, received spiritual and temporal blessings. Today, they rejoice in having a house of the Lord in their country.

Sister Gayle Clegg of the Primary general presidency and her husband lived for a number of years in Brazil. Recently she had a Primary assignment in Japan. As she came into the chapel on Sunday, she noticed among the Japanese Saints a Brazilian family. “They just looked Brazilian,” she said. She only had a minute to greet them and found the mother and children very enthusiastic but noticed that the father was rather quiet. “I’ll have a chance to talk with them after the meeting,” she thought as she was quickly ushered to the stand. She delivered her message in English, which was translated into Japanese, and then she felt impressed to bear her testimony in Portuguese as well. She hesitated as there were no translators for Portuguese, and 98 percent of the people would not understand what she said.

After the meeting the Brazilian father came up to her and said, “Sister, the customs are so different here, and I have been lonely. It is difficult to come to church and not understand anything. Sometimes I wonder if I would be better off just reading my scriptures at home. I told my wife, ‘I’ll give it one more chance,’ and I came today for what I thought would be the last time. When you bore your testimony in Portuguese, the Spirit touched my heart, and I knew that this was where I belonged. God knows I am here, and He will help me.” And he joined the others in putting away the chairs.

Was it a coincidence that the only Portuguese-speaking member of the Primary presidency was sent to Japan instead of to Portugal? Or was it because the Lord knew someone there needed what only she could give—and she had the courage to follow a prompting of the Spirit? One of the great blessings of having a calling in the Church is that the Lord, through His Spirit, will inspire us to help those we are called to serve.

A few years ago I was momentarily between primary callings having just finished my time as primary chorister. I must add that I am not a singer, but I do love the songs. I got a phone call asking me to substitute teach in a primary class. I agreed and volunteered my daughter, Morgan, to teach with me.
The lesson was about the ten lepers. I love this story in the New Testament. The opportunity to talk about gratitude both for others and for the Lord excited me. Jesus's life was so short—only 33 years—and his ministry was even shorter—just three years. Luke recorded and preserved a few precious stories and teachings. I believe that this event with the ten lepers is included in Luke's record not just because gratitude is nice, but because developing a spirit of gratitude is vital to our salvation. Christ's teachings are focused on what we must do to truly become whole.
President Dieter F. Uchtdorf said, "How blessed we are if we recognize God's handiwork in the marvelous tapestry of life. Gratitude to our Father in Heaven broadens our perception and clears our vision. It inspires humility and fosters empathy toward our fellowmen and all of God's creation. Gratitude is a catalyst to all Christlike attributes! A thankful heart is the parent of all virtues!"[1] I knew all of the children in this Primary class from singing time. And although they were an older class they would always gleefully ask to sing action songs like "Once There Was a Snowman"[2] or "Do As I'm Doing."[3] My daughter and I settled on an active plan to teach the lesson where we would first convey the idea of leprosy. I have changed the children's names to protect the innocent and the wiggly.
After the opening prayer we talked with the children about what it is like to be sick. Sarah said, "My mom sits by me and reads me stories." Sam said, "When I was in the hospital my dad gave me a blessing and I felt better."
"We are going to pretend to be in the time when Jesus lived on earth," I told them. "I would like you to think about what it would be like to be sick with a disease called leprosy. Would anyone like to volunteer to help me?" Every hand shot into the air. Nathan stepped forward when I called his name.
"Nathan, I am so sorry you have leprosy," I said. "It has affected the whole left side of your face. You need bandages."
Morgan wrapped half of Nathan's head in clean toilet paper blocking his vision and covering one ear while the rest of the class giggled. Nathan turned and grinned at them then tried to return to his chair. I stopped him and said, "Oh Nathan, you can't sit by the other kids anymore. They are still clean. Lepers are dirty and will make everyone sick." I moved him to the corner and had him sit on the floor.
One by one the children had parts of their bodies bandaged and sat in the corner of the primary room on the floor. Sam asked, "Can I get a drink?"
"No," I answered, "lepers can't use the drinking fountain. That is for healthy people. You are unclean."
Rachel raised her bandaged hand and asked, "Who took care of the lepers?"
"No one took care of them but the other lepers," I explained. "The lepers were taken from their families. Their moms and dads didn't sit by their beds to help them. All of their friends abandoned them. People would run away if they saw a leper coming towards them." Morgan continued, "Lepers had to ring a bell if they were coming close to people and call out 'Leper! Outcast! Unclean!' to warn everyone they were near."
"How would you feel if you were a leper?" I asked. The children were quiet and thoughtful for a few minutes then responded:
"I would miss my mom and my dad.""I would feel sad.""Couldn't they ever go back to their families?""No," I answered, "not unless they were cured.""Were very many cured?" Joseph asked.
"No, not then. Today there is medicine that helps when people are sick, but the lepers in Jesus's time didn't have any hope," I responded. The tissue bandages slipped down around necks, wrists, and legs. Some of the children leaned against one another. A few pulled their knees to their chests and put their heads down.
"I would want my mom," Rachel said."I would too," Morgan answered softly. "Now, imagine that you have heard some exciting news," I told them. "There is a man who heals people. He healed someone who was blind. He healed someone who couldn't walk. This man is coming near where you live with the other lepers. Maybe he can heal you. What do you think this man's name is?"
"Jesus!" cried the children."I would go to him and ask him to help me," said Nathan.
I explained that is just what the lepers in Jesus's time did. Their whole world was filled with hope again. Maybe they would get to be with their families again. They went to Jesus and begged him to heal them. And Jesus did heal them. Morgan and I removed all the tissue bandages and the children returned to their seats.
"How do you think the lepers that were healed felt now?" I asked. The children cheered and even danced around a little.
"I would run to find my dad!" Sam said."Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" Sarah said.
"I'm so glad you remembered to say thank you," I said. "Do you know only one leper said thank you to Jesus?"Sarah looked surprised, "But he had given them their whole life back."
We finished the lesson by reading the scriptures in Luke, talking about gratitude, and making thank you cards. Morgan and I got hugs and lots of "thank yous" as they left.
I came home from church tired but proud that the lesson had gone so well with the children. I felt like I had set a good example of teaching primary for my daughter. I settled down for my well-deserved Sunday nap.
My dream began with the primary lesson I had just taught. But as the children left the classroom instead of pride at a well-taught lesson I felt an aching sadness. In my dream I could feel the Savior's rebuke that I had missed the most important part of the lesson of the lepers. I could see myself diseased, bruised, and hurting but I looked normal on the outside. No one that looked at me could see the wounds that I carried. I could see that the others around me had unnoticeable secret wounds as well. I yearned to be healed and to be clean. I wanted to be with my family but knew I could not find them. I was utterly hopeless.
I startled awake with cold regret washing over me. I would not teach these children again next week. The primary class was not mine, I was just a substitute. I would not get to tell them that the story of the ten lepers was not just about gratitude and thank you notes, it was about the Atonement; that each of us walks around in life with wounds, and sores, and missing parts. For some of us the wounds are visible, but for most of us the wounds are not on our physical bodies. Our spirits are wounded and bruised, sometimes from our own actions and choices. Sometimes our bruises come from the actions and choices of others. Like the lepers there is no hope for us, there is no medicine or procedure to cure us, even with all the fabulous modern methods that we have now, there is no hope for us to be with our families again except through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.

The Arizona sun was winning the battle with the historic pioneer cabin. Beating constantly against the walls, sun rays had blistered the mud-plastered adobe until its outer covering peeled and tumbled. Tan weeds, also scorched by the heat, clustered at the foundation as if to catch the falling wounded.
Then the reinforcements arrived—Young Adults from Phoenix. They massed around the cabin, dug a hole nearby, filled it with water, and mixed in dirt. A garden hose sprayed the walls of the building and the parched surface sucked the water in. Soon the mud-splattered hands of half a dozen young ladies were smearing fresh new “plaster” on the walls, while friends with hoes evacuated weeds from the base of the structure and from trails nearby.
The restoration of the cabin was only part of a much larger activity, a service project to help the nonprofit living history museum at Pioneer Arizona. The museum, located just outside Phoenix, is actually a small town made up of buildings from the late 1800s that were once used by settlers. The sheriff’s office, bank, wagon maker’s shop, blacksmith shop, church, and other buildings there have been relocated from throughout the state or reconstructed to follow original dimensions and designs. At various times during the year, artisans will actually come and work in the shops as artisans might have in pioneer times.
But for the moment, the museum needed some help. To attract tourists, the site needed to be spruced up. Waves of withered wild grass had invaded, and unless they were hacked down, they might become ignited and engulf the valuable historical buildings in flame.
Steven Pelfrey, the regional Young Adult president, heard of the opportunity to serve, and he didn’t hesitate to volunteer on behalf of his fellow Latter-day Saints. He knew they’d pull through, and they did. Besides, he was looking for an activity to help recent high school graduates who had just come into the Young Adult program to get involved and feel the spirit of Christian service.
Now, on this Saturday morning, he could see them working side by side with the other Young Adults, as, armed with hoes, rakes, and buckets, they swarmed through the town. Kira Burch, 17, from the Tenth Ward, Phoenix Arizona West Stake, wiped her brow as she finished whacking out a stubborn weed. A one-year veteran of Young Adults, Reuben Judd, 18, of the 19th Ward, worked with some new participants hoisting buckets of mud to the top of the adobe cabin to reinforce the roof. Several of the young women, who had come dressed as pioneers, were invited by the museum director to give guided tours to tourists. The older Young Adults, perhaps remembering their own experiences in coming to activities for the first time, seemed to be going out of their way to welcome the newcomers.
“I could tell they weren’t being left out, that they were having fun,” said Kelly Pendleton, 21, of the Ninth Ward. “They were excited to see the kinds of activities Young Adults can do.”
Others agreed. Rena Davis, 17, of the 37th Ward, said, “I’ve looked forward to the activities, and I wasn’t disappointed. Everybody was happy and friendly. They talked to me and said ‘hi’ and made me feel welcome. That’s important. But I have an obligation, too. That is to participate and help make the activities successful.”
Most of the new Young Adults seemed to follow Rena’s advice. They mingled with everyone freely.
“I spent all day learning about people, finding out they have the same reaction to service and to the gospel that I do. They want to serve more and learn more. We’re all striving for the same thing,” Kira said.
Soon trail-marking rocks were aligned in regimented columns, remaining weeds had been gobbled up by marauding shovels, and the whole town reveled in its cleaned-up condition. It was time to celebrate!

A number of years ago in general conference, Elder Boyd K. Packer of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles told the story of Joseph Millett, a little-known member of the Church.
He lived in the early days of the Church and came across the plains with other faithful members to tame a desert and to find a new home. In those first years, food was often scarce. Winters were particularly difficult, and often the days stretched further than the food that was stored.
Joseph Millett wrote in his journal: “One of my children came in and said that Brother Newton Hall’s folks was out of bread, had none that day.
“I divided our flour in a sack to send up to Brother Hall. Just then Brother Hall came.
“Says I, ‘Brother Hall, are you out of flour?’
“‘Brother Millett, we have none.’
“‘Well, Brother Hall, there is some in that sack. I have divided and was going to send it to you. Your children told mine that you was out.’
“Brother Hall began to cry. He said he had tried others, but could not get any. He went to the cedars and prayed to the Lord, and the Lord told him to go to Joseph Millett.
“‘Well Brother Hall, you needn’t bring this back. If the Lord sent you for it you don’t owe me for it.’”
That night Joseph Millett recorded a remarkable sentence in his journal: “You can’t tell me how good it made me feel to know that the Lord knew there was such a person as Joseph Millett” (Diary of Joseph Millett, holograph, Historical Department Archives, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints; cited in Boyd K. Packer, “A Tribute to the Rank and File of the Church,” Ensign, May 1980, 63).

In the priesthood we share the sacred duty to labor for the souls of men. We must do more than learn that this is our duty. It must go down into our hearts so deeply that neither the many demands on our efforts in the bloom of life nor the trials that come with age can turn us from that purpose.

Not long ago I visited a high priest in his home. He is no longer able to come to our quorum meetings. He lives alone. His beautiful wife died, and his children live far away from him. Time and illness limit his ability to serve. He still lifts weights to keep what he can of his once-powerful strength.

When I walked into his home, he stood up from his walker to greet me. He invited me to sit in a chair near him. We talked of our happy associations in the priesthood.

Then with great intensity he said to me, “Why am I still living? Why am I still here? I can’t do anything.”

I told him that he was doing something for me. He was lifting me with his faith and his love. Even in our short visit, he made me want to be better. His example of determination to do something that mattered had inspired me to try harder to serve others and the Lord.

But from the sad sound of his voice and the look in his eyes, I could sense that I had not answered his questions. He still wondered why God let him live with such limitations on his ability to serve.

In his usual generous way, he thanked me for coming to see him. As I got up to leave, the nurse who comes to his home a few hours every day walked in from another room. During our private conversation, he had told me a little about her. He said she was wonderful. She had lived among the Latter-day Saints most of her life but was still not a member.

She walked up to show me to the door. He motioned toward her and said with a smile, “See, I can’t seem to do anything. I have been trying to get her baptized into the Church, but it hasn’t worked.” She smiled back at him and at me. I walked outside and turned toward my home nearby.

I realized then that the answers to his questions were planted long ago in his heart. That valiant high priest was trying to do his duty, taught to him through decades in the priesthood.

He knew that the only way that young woman could have the blessing of salvation through the gospel of Jesus Christ was to make a covenant by being baptized. He had been taught according to the covenants by every president of every quorum from the deacons to the high priests.

He remembered and felt his own oath and covenant in the priesthood. He was still keeping it.

He was a witness and a missionary for the Savior wherever life would take him. It was already in his heart. The desire of his heart was that her heart could be changed through the Atonement of Jesus Christ by keeping sacred covenants.

His time in the school of the priesthood in this life will be relatively brief compared to eternity. But even in that short span, he has mastered the eternal curriculum. He will carry with him, wherever the Lord will call, priesthood lessons of eternal worth.

“Jessie,” Mother called, “are you OK? You’ve been in the bathroom for a long time.”
“I’m getting my family home evening lesson ready,” Jessie called back.
“In the bathroom?”
“I can’t part the Red Sea in the living room,” Jessie replied.
“That’s true,” said Mother.
Jessie had a little water in the bathtub. She put in several drops of red food coloring, just for effect. Her father had carefully installed a rotating fan on a shelf above the tub for her, and if she stopped the fan from moving back and forth, turned it on high, and used only a little water in the tub, she could part the Red Sea.
But this only solved part of her problem. She couldn’t turn the fan off to drown Pharaoh and the Egyptians while she was still getting Moses and the Israelites to the other side of the bathtub. And how was she going to get Pharaoh into the sea to begin with? There was also the cloud that separated the Israelites and the Egyptians. She could use cotton for that, but someone else would have to hold up the cloud.
David came into the bathroom to comb his hair. “David,” asked Jessie, “would you turn this fan off and on for me when I ask you to?”
“If it won’t mess up my hair,” said David.
“It won’t, I promise.”
Just then their sister Ruth came into the bathroom to get some nail polish. “Playing in the water I see, David,” Ruth teased.
“Be quiet,” said David. “I’m helping Jessie part the Red Sea.”
“Ruth,” said Jessie, “I need you to get the Egyptians into the Red Sea so that David can drown them.”
“Clever!” Ruth exclaimed, picking up the small figures. “They’re plastic cowboys and horses dressed up in Egyptian capes.”
Jessie’s little brother, Jared, came into the bathroom to see what was going on. He picked up the cotton. “Soft,” he said.
“Jared,” Jessie asked, “Can you hold that cotton cloud right here to protect the Israelites?”
“Me water,” said Jared leaning over the bathtub and swishing the water with one hand and swinging the cloud with the other.
Dad came into the bathroom to brush his teeth. “Well, it looks like we’re having a meeting in here,” he said.
“We’re parting the Red Sea,” said Ruth.
“Tonight’s lesson?” asked Dad. “So that’s why you wanted the fan set up in here, Jessie.”
“Yes,” Jessie replied. “Will you please help me get Moses through the Red Sea? I can’t move all these Israelites by myself.”
“The robes on these army men of yours look great,” said Dad. “They make good Israelites.”
“Thanks, Dad,” said Jessie.
Mother poked her head into the room. “What on earth is going on in here?”
“Oh, Mom,” Jessie answered, “we’re ready for my part of the family-home-evening lesson. Will you sit on the clothes hamper and watch? We need a watcher.”
“I’d love to,” said Mom.
“Ready, begin,” announced Jessie.
David turned the fan on. The Red Sea parted. Jessie and Dad led the Israelites through the bathtub. Jared held the cotton cloud and swished his hands in the red water. Ruth rode the caped Egyptians into the tub on their horses. David turned off the fan, and the Egyptian soldiers and Pharaoh drowned. Mom clapped and cheered.
“Whew,” said Jessie, wiping her forehead, “that was quite a job.”
“A great family effort,” said Dad.
“Jessie, I’ve made your favorite red sugar cookies,” Mom said, “in honor of your parting the Red Sea.”
“Boy, I’m luckier than Moses,” said Jessie.
“Why’s that?” asked Dad.
“I’ll bet Moses didn’t get red sugar cookies after he parted the Red Sea.”

“I started ballet at age seven because I wanted to be a princess,” says Bianca Carnovale, from Sydney, Australia. Soon after she began training, she learned that the dance world does not stop to remember the Sabbath day. She had to decide where she stood.
As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Bianca strives to keep Sundays free from work and other activities that take her away from worship. Whether it’s sports or performing arts, the decision for Latter-day Saints to set these activities aside on the Sabbath can sometimes be emotionally challenging.
Not wanting to let anyone down, knowing that Sunday pieces would have to be choreographed without her, Bianca also struggled. Her teachers would say, “No company will want you; why would they choose you over someone who will dance on Sunday?”
But Bianca remembers, from as young as seven, talking with her mother about dancing on Sundays. When she had to miss out on exams and performances, those talks helped Bianca understand that pleasing God was more important.
She studied at Marni’s School of Performing Arts until the age of 14, then won a spot in the pre-professional program at the National College of Dance in Newcastle, which was two hours away from home. For the next three years, Bianca lived in Newcastle five days a week, an experience that prepared her to move to New York City, USA on her own.
Although she still never danced on a Sunday, at age 17, Bianca was accepted into New York’s prestigious Ballet Academy East, where she had the exciting opportunity to study the Balanchine ballet method.
It wasn’t always fun. “There were times in New York, away from all my friends and family, I felt I had no one,” Bianca remembers. “Crying one night . . . I remember praying to my Heavenly Father and asking Him for [a hug]. I will never forget the warmth that flooded my chest. Although it made me cry more, they were definitely happy tears, and I did not feel alone anymore.”
After almost two years, the COVID-19 pandemic shut down New York and sent Bianca home, where she had to find a job, but kept up her ballet training. Later, she prayerfully considered a full-time mission, but was prompted to move to Melbourne where she hoped to get into the Australian Ballet Company.
Then the lockdowns started again, and Bianca soon missed performing. She began dancing in the park, just to get outdoors, but then her mother suggested she try ballet busking when the lockdowns ended. At first, Bianca thought the idea was crazy, but when her friends from Church also encouraged it, she gave it a go.
Bianca choreographed dances in her flat, then ventured into the city streets to perform them. “At first, I only had headphones, but started dancing anyway. Then I got speakers. From there, I learned all the tips and tricks of busking: using cones and roping off a stage area . . . perfecting choreography . . . [managing] a crowd. Busking was a whole new world.”
Bianca still dreamed of getting into a ballet company. While busking, she kept training and auditioning. One company that seemed interested in her asked, “Why don’t you . . . perform on Sunday, and then go to church?” With Bianca’s insistence that Sabbath observance was more than just going to church, that opportunity fell through.
“I wanted so much to dance professionally,” Bianca reflects. In her prayers she even told Heavenly Father how inspiring it would be to all the little dancers if she got into a ballet company without working on Sundays. “Looking back, I now laugh at trying to tell Heavenly Father what was best.”
Bianca ponders a lesson taught by Elder D. Todd Christofferson: “We ought not to think of God’s plan as a cosmic vending machine where we (1) select a desired blessing, (2) insert the required sum of good works, and (3) the order is promptly delivered.”1
“I knew Heavenly Father wanted me to dance,” she says. “I knew He wanted me to strive towards getting into a ballet company, but as the years went by it became very apparent that He never promised me I would actually get into one.”
Pursuing her dream to work for a company has made Bianca an exceptionally skilled performer, but as of March 2022, she has supported herself completely on busking—a path that has had unexpected outcomes.
While she was dancing one day, she recalls, “I happened to see the glowing face of a 13-year-old girl . . . I’ve been that girl before, and I know that feeling. I can make people smile and cry; I wouldn’t change that for anything . . . I always wanted to serve others . . . now Heavenly Father has provided me with the opportunity to serve in the most unique way!”
“Getting into a company would be inspiring,” she continues, “but I think it is so much more inspiring that I would keep His commandment.”
President Russell M. Nelson once said, “Obedience brings success; exact obedience brings miracles.”2
Echoing his words, Bianca proclaims: “Heavenly Father has told me, ‘If you keep my commandments, I will show you miracles’.
“Do I trust Him? Yes!”

This summer I was in a 4-H club. At the county fair I showed my lamb, Queenie. I won two trophies for showmanship and was invited to a round robin competition for a big trophy. When the judge told me that the competition was going to be on Sunday, I felt a weird feeling inside, as if my heart had stopped pumping blood. I told him that I couldn’t go. I was disappointed, but the Holy Ghost let me know that I was doing the right thing. It was hard, but now I know that I can make hard decisions. This will help me the next time I have a hard decision to make.

When Russell got home from his mission he was excited to get a cell phone. He had used one before but without the games, cameras, and text messaging capabilities. On one of the first weekends after his return, he was asked to help out at a neighborhood garage sale. As people wandered among the various items spread out on the lawn, Russell played with his new cell phone and began texting a friend about how much he missed his mission. Suddenly, he noticed a lady who appeared a little confused as she looked at several of the items. He put his cell phone away and approached her. He soon discovered she was new in the area and spoke Spanish but little English. Having served in Spain, he delighted her by speaking Spanish. Before long, he had not only helped her pick out a few items, but he had also taken her name and address with the intent of sending the missionaries.

Russell says, “Here I was texting my friend about how much I missed my mission, and I almost let a missionary opportunity pass me by. When I put the cell phone away, I actually ended up getting a missionary referral. I was happy to have my new cell phone, and texting my friend was fun, but nothing made me happier than getting this referral for the missionaries.”

Recently three generations of a family were grieving at the death of a five-year-old boy. He died accidentally while with his family on a vacation. I was granted the opportunity to watch once again how the Lord blesses the faithful with relief and the strength to endure.
I watched the way the Lord made their great burden lighter. I was with them as the Lord’s covenant servant—as you will be often in your life—“to mourn with those that mourn … and comfort those that stand in need of comfort.”5
Because I knew that was true, I was pleased and at peace when the grandparents invited me to meet with them and the parents of the little boy before the funeral.
I prayed to know how I could help the Lord comfort them. They sat down with me in our living room. I had warmed the room on a cold night with a small fire in the fireplace.
I had felt to tell them that I loved them. I told them that I had felt the Lord’s love for them. In just a few words I tried to tell them that I mourned for them but that only the Lord knew and could experience perfectly their pain and grief.
After saying those few words, I felt impressed to listen with love while they talked about their feelings.
In the hour we sat together, they spoke far more than I did. I could feel in their voices and see in their eyes that the Holy Ghost was touching them. In words of simple testimony, they spoke of what happened and how they felt. The Holy Ghost had already given them the peace that comes with the hope of eternal life, when their son, who died without sin, could be theirs forever.
When I gave them each a priesthood blessing, I gave thanks for the influence of the Holy Ghost that was there. The Comforter had come, bringing hope, courage, and increased strength for all of us.
The father and the mother of the little boy bore witness of the Savior that evening in my living room. The Holy Ghost came, and all were comforted. The parents were strengthened. The burden of grief did not disappear, but they were made able to bear the sorrow. Their faith increased. And their strength will continue to grow as they ask for it and live for it.

I had put my trust in those large hands many times. My thoughts returned to the day that I was stuck halfway down a turret at Caernarfon Castle. The turret, like the rest of the castle, was dark and made of huge granite blocks. The stairs spiraled upwards and were worn from centuries of footsteps. Tourists milled around the ancient landmark. Laughs, shreaks, and voices speaking several languages echoed off the damp, cold walls. Climbing up the turret had seemed relatively easy. I kept to the outside wall where the stairs were wide and headed toward the light at the top. The route down, however, meant teetering on the sliver of stone step in the center of the tower while hordes of huge adults streamed by me, flailing cameras and bags that hit me as they passed. Instead of heading toward the light above I was going down into a pit of darkness. I was terrified.
I could hear people above me beginning their descent. I knew that I would cause a huge traffic jam unless I moved, but I was frozen. “Dad,” I whispered. “Dad.” The sound bounced back hauntingly. I heard footsteps, then a strong voice that I recognized. “Sian, take one step down; just one.”
“No,” I gasped, “I’ll fall.”
“It’s okay,” came the reply. “I’m right in front of you.”
I looked down, my stomach churning. I saw his hand reach out around the central pillar. I took a deep breath and stepped down.
“Good girl. Now one more,” came the encouraging voice. I kept my eyes on my feet and my hand on the clammy stone pillar as Dad coaxed me onward.
Suddenly there was light and green grass and safety. I ran through the archway into the castle’s courtyard. I was down. I was free. I looked for my father. He was standing at the archway watching me, smiling at my excitement and conquest.

Elder Juan Pablo Villar’s introduction to the Church came in Santiago, Chile, when his eldest brother, Ivan, announced to the family that he had been baptized without his parents’ approval and later said he planned to serve a mission. When asked why, Ivan shared his testimony and desire to serve.
“I didn’t understand all the meaning of that,” recalled Elder Villar, then age 17. “But at that moment, he put a seed in my heart.”
That seed was given a chance to grow when his brother referred him to the missionaries. During his first lesson, Elder Villar received his own testimony of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon.
“For myself, it was not necessary to kneel down and pray, because the moment they shared their testimony, I knew in my heart it was true,” he said. “When I knew that, everything else had to be true.”
Ivan, serving in a neighboring mission, received permission to baptize Elder Villar in 1988. Later, their mother and other brother, Claudio, also joined the Church.

In addition to being an early witness of the Restoration, Lucy exercised faith that was undaunted by seemingly insurmountable circumstances. After the Church was organized in April 1830, persecution stagnated Church growth in New York while the number of members increased in neighboring Ohio. By winter, a revelation commanded the Church members to “go to the Ohio” and gather with the Saints there (Doctrine and Covenants 37:1).

Lucy and several dozen Saints responded to the command of the revelation and traveled by boat on the Erie Canal to Lake Erie, then crossed the lake to Ohio. When they arrived at the banks of Lake Erie, however, the water was frozen with no foreseeable passageway. Many Saints on board the boat began to complain. Lucy rebuked them, asking, “Where is your faith? Where is your confidence in God? … Suppose that all the Saints here should raise their hearts in prayer to God that the way might be opened before us, how easy it would be for Him to cause the ice to break away so that in a moment’s time we could be on our journey.”5

After testifying of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon, Lucy pleaded with the Saints to pray for the ice to be broken up so they could continue their journey. In that moment, a noise “like bursting thunder” was heard and the ice parted, leaving a narrow passage for the boat that closed no sooner than the boat had passed.6 The Saints then held a prayer meeting to thank God for His deliverance.

After five years at the school, Skaidr?te went to work in a clothing factory. She was a good seamstress, skilled but not fast. Others laughed at her and said she was avoiding work. Because she was slow, she wasn’t paid much. She became discouraged. She even contemplated suicide.
Then a new factory opened and Skaidr?te moved there. This factory emphasized quality rather than speed, and because her skill was apparent, Skaidr?te was selected to oversee the other seamstresses. It was a perfect situation.

It was almost bedtime. Amy and Mom were rocking together in the big brown chair. Amy was tired, but she didn’t feel like sleeping. She wanted to know more about the new baby that was coming to live at her house.
Amy knew that the baby growing inside Mom would be born soon. “Let’s talk about the baby,” Amy said.
Mom smiled and hugged Amy. “Before the baby started growing inside me,” Mom explained, “it had only a spirit body, and it lived with Heavenly Father. When it is born, that spirit body will be inside the baby’s earthly body. The baby will be very small when it is born, and we won’t be able to see its spirit body, but it’s there just like ours that we can’t see.”
Mom hugged Amy again. “And you will soon be its big sister!”
Amy showed her hand to Mom. “My hands will be bigger than our new baby’s hands.”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “You are much bigger than our new baby will be. And did you know that babies don’t have pretty white teeth like you have?”
Amy’s tongue felt her strong teeth. “How do babies eat without teeth?” she asked.
“For a while, babies don’t need any teeth. At first they only drink milk.”
“I like milk, too,” Amy said. “Can the baby eat cheese and apples?”
“When the baby grows bigger, cheese and apples will be good for it,” Mom said, “but not until the baby’s teeth grow in its mouth.”
“Can the baby play with me?”
“At first the baby will be too small to play,” Mom answered. “But babies like to look at pretty toys and at people’s faces.”
“Then I can show the baby my blocks,” Amy said. “And I can talk to our baby and sing songs to it.” Amy thought for a minute. “Mom, will our baby be a boy or a girl?”
“We won’t know until the baby is born,” Mom replied.
“Can the baby talk to me?”
“Our baby won’t know how to talk when it is very tiny,” Mom said. “At first, it will only cry and make other sounds. It will cry when it’s hungry. It might cry when its diaper is wet. And sometimes it may cry when it just wants a hug.”
“Mom,” Amy said, “when our new baby cries, I’ll help it to feel better. Do babies cry when they’re tired?”
“Sometimes they do.”
“But big girls like me can talk,” Amy said. “So we don’t need to cry.” Amy stretched and yawned. “Big girls can say ‘I’m tired’ and just go to bed.”
“That’s right, Amy.”
“Mom,” Amy said, “I’m tired.”
So Mom and Amy went to Amy’s bedroom. After she had knelt and said her prayers, Amy climbed into bed. She felt cozy on her soft pillow and under her warm blanket.
Mom kissed her good night. “I love you, Amy.”
“I love you, too, Mom,” Amy said. “And I will love our new baby.”

While that companion has his or her agency, you also have your own agency to choose to be obedient. You should do everything you can to follow mission rules and schedules. Your good example will always work better than anger. For example, when I served my mission, we had one hour every preparation day for emailing. I had some companions who would go significantly over their allotted email time. I would use my time, pay the internet café, and then quietly sit next to my companion until she was done. I noticed that although I never got mad at my companions or told them they were going over our time limit, they would usually start using less time and trying to be more aware of the rules. It’s amazing how powerful a righteous example can be for a missionary who might be struggling.

The air in the gym is heavy, thick with the smell of rubber-soled shoes, of basketballs, and of sweat. In one corner, young men do warm up exercises. One of them calls out, “Pasame la pelota!”
In unison, the other players repeat, “Pasame la pelota!”
“What does that mean, Kelly?”
“Pass me the ball,” Kelly answers. “Now try this, ‘a la izquierda,’ That means ‘to the left.’
“A la izquierda!” the group answers.
And so the Spanish language practice continues as the basketball players prepare for a game. It took place at the University of New Mexico, where their team, the Lobos prepared for a game against Brigham Young University (BYU). The Lobos were getting a quick course in Spanish from their team player, Kelly Graves, who served in the Chile Santiago Mission. Many of the players for BYU served Spanish-speaking missions, and sometimes they try to confuse and intimidate opposing teams by speaking Spanish to each other during the games.
“Those BYU players can’t fool me,” said Kelly, “I served a Spanish-speaking mission too. During our warm up time, we’ve been reviewing some Spanish phrases.”
Keith Chapman, a player for the University of Utah, is a returned missionary from the Germany Frankfurt Mission. On his mission Keith learned to keep an eternal perspective on things. “Before my mission, basketball was my whole life. Now I know there are more important things like staying worthy and looking more into the eternities than just to the next game.”
From the time Reid Newey of Roy, Utah, was six years old he had dreamed of playing basketball. He played on community and church teams as a boy and as a teenager. He watched games on television and attended games with his father. Basketball was what he wanted to do with his life.
During his first year at Utah State University, Reid was honored by being selected for the national team made up of first year college students. He was making a meaningful contribution to college basketball. The following year he would have been one of the leading players. But something else was affecting his life. “I read the Book of Mormon all the way through during my first year in college,” said Reid. “And I really gained a great testimony of it. I loved it. I’d rush home from practice just to read it because I loved it so much. From then on I had a different feeling. I went through a lot of prayer and fasting, and it was a personal revelation for me that I should go on a mission.”
Reid had a tremendous experience in the mission field that made everything worth it. “We met this man who was a retired colonel from the army. He was just a great man. He was baptized a week before I left. He drove me to the airport to go home, and we had the opportunity to visit together for a while before my departure. As we spoke, he looked at me and said, ‘Thanks for coming, Elder Newey.’ I didn’t know exactly what he was referring to. But then he took my arm and said, ‘I mean, thanks for coming on your mission.’ That was the greatest experience of my life. It really touched me, and I can’t bear to think what it would be like if I hadn’t experienced that.”
Reid had one more piece of advice. “I’m a basketball player, but everybody has their own obstacles to going on a mission. Everybody can think of something to keep them from going. But I know there isn’t anything worth staying home for. My advice would be to get your life in order and go, no matter what it takes.”
Talk to any of the college players who took time out to serve, and they’ll tell you the same thing. Go! There isn’t one who regrets his service to the Lord.
“The decision I made to go on a mission was the greatest one I made in my life,” says BYU’s star player, Mike Smith. “I made my decision to serve a mission many years ago. I made the decision before other pressures could influence me.”
And the pressure did come. Mike was considered to be one of the best players to come out of any California high school and many large universities wanted him. Mike chose BYU, and in his first year, he was a starting player 27 of 31 games. But id didn’t bother him at all to leave his sports career behind for a couple of years.
There were those who didn’t understand, however. One man in particular, a long-time fan of Mike’s from his hometown, couldn’t understand why Mike would run the risk of sacrificing his career to serve a mission. Mike wrote his non-Latter-day Saint friend a letter from the mission field in which he bore his testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel, the Book of Mormon, and the prophet of the Church. Mike also told him he felt it was a privilege rather than a sacrifice to serve. His friend was so affected by mike’s testimony that he took the letter to a local Catholic priest, who happened to be interested in Mike’s basketball career too. The priest, in turn, read the letter in mass every day for a week, saying it was an example of a youth who was doing all he could to serve the Lord.
“Nothing that happens on the basketball court can compare with experiences in the mission field,” Mike explains. “The feelings you experience on the basketball court are so limited, so temporary. You can make a game-winning shot and the fans love you, but the next play you might accidentally bounce the ball off your foot and that great feeling is gone. But the feelings that you have in the mission field, where the Spirit touches your heart, you’ll never forget.”
Brian Taylor, a BYU player who served in the Spain Seville Mission, will never forget or regret his decision to serve a mission. “I had the great opportunity to go out and open up a new mission in the Canary Islands. I felt like the Apostle Paul. We’d walk down the street and people would ask, ‘What are you young men doing in white shirts and ties? Why aren’t you down at the beach in your swimsuits?’ When we explained what we were doing, they’d be impressed, and they’d listen to us, sometimes 150 people at once. We’d show movies like The First Vision and Families Are Forever on the sides of buildings, and the whole village would come out to watch. We would then bear our testimonies, and the people would weep.”
Brian smiled and shook his head as he remembered, “There is just no comparison between that and playing basketball. You win a game for your team, you feel great, but the feeling only lasts a short time. But just as I talk about being on that island and bearing my testimony to that many people, it makes me feel like cheering again. You just feel good about it, and it never leaves you. It’s that eternal kind of feeling.”
Mike Johnson from Utah Stake University has basketball in his blood. His father and uncles all played at Utah Stake, and Mike wanted to follow in their footsteps. But a mission came first. He left for the England Leeds Mission straight out of high school, not knowing if any of the college basketball recruiters who contacted him before he left would be interested when he returned two years later.
“I wanted to go on a mission,” said Mike. “I wanted to say, ‘I’ve done what I’ve been asked to do , and now, if I need to call on my Heavenly Father for help, I can do it knowing that I have kept his commandment.”
Mike has talked to several young men who are leaving on their missions. He encourages them to work hard and be dedicated. Then he tells them the lesson he learned, “If you go on a mission, when you get back everything will work out well for you.”
These athletes as well as other missionaries soon learn that some of the fruits of their labors are harvested later by others. Alan Astle, a BYU player, had one such experience. While tracting in England, he and his companion kept a record of every door they knocked on. “I remember one lady we tried several times was always too busy to talk to us, but I thought she was a good prospect. Right next to her name in our missionary book I wrote ‘good prospect.’ About four months later I got a letter from this lady, thanking me in countless ways for putting that comment next to her name. The new missionaries in the area saw what I had written, went to see her, and she was baptized. She’s brought about five or six others into the Church so far.”
Jon Hansen, a student at the university of Utah, returned from the Switzerland Geneva Mission just six weeks before school started. In some ways he enjoyed taking a break from basketball. “On your mission all your focus is on spiritual things, service, and spreading the gospel,” said Jon. “A mission is a total change. It’s harder coming home than it is leaving. When you get home, you really have to work hard to stay as close to the Lord as you were on your mission.”
Tom Gneiting, one of BYU’s fourth-year players last year, said returned missionaries do have a few advantages. “Mentally, you’re smarter about the game and you know more about it. You’re not quite as emotional as you were when you were eighteen years old. You’re calmer in the games.”
Brent Stephenson, of BYU, added, “Also it helps you with patience. A lot of the game is having patience and doing the right things at the right time. I think the maturity we gain on a mission helps us.”
Hard work seems to go with missionary service and pursuing sports. Danny Conway, at Utah State University, found that a mission helped him learn how to improve his game. “If you want something, you really have to dedicate yourself and sacrifice. For me, if I’m good, it’s because I work hard and sacrifice something. I’ve never been one of those who can play well without putting forth the effort.”
Brian Taylor of BYU agreed, “After your mission you have the confidence that you know you can do it. You know you can do anything, because you’ve done the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life.”
Even though these young men love basketball, none of them love basketball more than the Church and their missions.
Jon Judkins, of Utah State, summed up the feelings for the group. “I don’t think there’s anything I could ever do in basketball that would make me feel that joy—the joy of seeing someone join the Church and completely change their lives.”