Gospel Story Finder

Among those who Joseph, 15, and his 19-year-old sister, Alexandra, helped bring to the gospel are their mother and father.
“Our parents came to our baptism,” Joseph said. “It was outside, in a swimming pool. The birds and crickets were singing in the background. The spirit was so strong, and our parents became more interested. The next day, in sacrament meeting, we were asked to bear our testimonies. Dad had to work, but Mom was there, and she recorded us so he could hear us too.”
Joseph and Alexandra quickly became active and energetic members. They both play musical instruments, the recorder and the guitar, and they love to sing, both hymns and folk music. In the ward, their love of music is infectious. So is their love of the gospel. They frequently help the missionaries and are great aids in integrating investigators, especially their parents.
“We would share our Church activities with our parents at dinner,” says Joseph. “We would invite them to come to church with us, and they often came.”
It was really only a matter of time before the senior Szamosfalvis were baptized—by their son, Joseph, of course. And once they joined, Church membership drastically changed their lives. Not only did Joseph Sr. change jobs so he could attend church on Sundays, but he sold the family vineyard and the family bar. They feel the Lord has opened all sorts of doors for them and look forward to a bright future.

A colleague of mine at BYU, Dale LeBaron (former mission president and CES employee in Africa - who told me this story) related an experience he had at BYU 8 years after the organization of these two stakes by Elders Faust and Packer. In 1999, Dale and his wife were asked by the Church to host a prominent dignitary visiting Utah from Ghana who had been invited to visit Church headquarters, meet BYU officials, and present a lecture to the campus community. He had achieved a rare and remarkable feat - lifting an African nation out of terrible financial debt and economic chaos for which he was now recognized worldwide for this achievement.

On the final day of his Utah visit, my friend asked the visitor a question: 'What program or economic theory did you use to turn the nation's economy around so dramatically?' This former Minister of Finance smiled and said: "It was really quite simple!" I knew that the most serious problem I would face was corruption at the national level among government officials and the only way to solve the financial mess would be to place trusted people in key positions, individuals who could not be bribed or be dishonest in any way. To locate such individuals I observed many and devised tests to determine those who were trustworthy. After considerable effort, I found only two men in whom I had complete confidence and I appointed them to key positions in the Department of Finance and thanks to their integrity, hard work and courage, the economy of the nation was reversed.

Then the man said: 'Coming to Utah, I made an interesting discovery. I did not know before I came here that both of those men that I appointed were members of your church!' He then shared the names of the two men and they had been the ones sustained as members of the two stake presidencies organized by Elders Packer and Faust. One of the men was the new stake president and the other was a counselor in an adjoining stake presidency. As you know, we now have a temple in the capital city.

After nearly four years in Hawaii, Joseph F. returned home. One morning when he and several other missionaries were returning to Salt Lake City, a group of rough Mormon-haters rode up on horses, firing their guns and cursing.
The leader jumped off his horse and shouted, “We will kill anyone who is a Mormon!” The other missionaries had fled into the woods, but Joseph F. bravely stood his ground. The man shoved a gun in Joseph F.’s face and asked, “Are you a Mormon?”
Joseph F. stood tall and said, “Yes siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through!”
The man was surprised at his reply. He put the gun away, shook Joseph’s hand, and said, “Well, you are the pleasantest man I ever met! I’m glad to see a fellow stand up for his convictions.” He jumped back on his horse and rode off with his companions.

Joe’s sister Sariah was sick. Not the kind of sick where you cough or have a stomachache. Mom and Dad said she might have diabetes.
Joe didn’t know what diabetes was, but it sounded scary. Then Mom and Dad explained that it’s when people’s bodies have trouble using sugar from the food they eat. Sariah had to spend a few days in the hospital to find out if she had diabetes.
Sometimes Sariah got on Joe’s nerves. She tried to play with his friends. She even lost his video game controller once. But he still loved her so much. I don’t want her to be sick, he thought as tears came to his eyes.
Joe’s sisters helped Sariah get ready for the hospital. Mary got out Sariah’s backpack. Hannah helped pack her pajamas. Lilly added a fuzzy blanket. Joe wanted to help too, but he didn’t know how.
Soon Sariah was all packed.
“Let’s pray before we go,” Dad said. “Joe, would you say it?”
Joe nodded. “Dear Heavenly Father,” he began. “Please bless Sariah to not have diabetes. Please bless her to be OK.” As he prayed, Joe felt a little better.
As the family came together for a hug, Joe had an idea.
“Wait!” he said. He went to his room and grabbed the portable music player he got for his birthday. He made sure Sariah’s favorite songs were on it.
“Here,” he said, handing it to Sariah. “You can take this to the hospital.” She smiled and held it tight as she walked to the car.
The next day, Mom took Joe and his sisters to the hospital to visit Sariah. Joe was nervous as they walked through the hospital. “Please bless her to not have diabetes,” he prayed for what felt like the hundredth time.
When they got to Sariah’s room, she was sitting up in bed with tubes attached to her arms. She smiled a little when she saw everyone.
“We got the tests back,” Dad said. “The doctors say Sariah has type 1 diabetes. We’ll have to change some food we eat as a family and help her with her medicine. But she’ll be OK.”
Joe’s stomach dropped. He went out into the hallway and sat down next to the door. He buried his face in his arms.
“What’s wrong, Joe?” Mom said as she sat next to him.
“I prayed that Sariah wouldn’t have diabetes,” Joe said. “Why didn’t Heavenly Father answer my prayer?”
Mom put her arm around him. “Heavenly Father always answers our prayers. But it’s just not always in the way we want. Sometimes, instead of taking hard things away, He answers by giving us peace and helping us be strong. I know Heavenly Father will help Sariah.”
Joe nodded slowly. He didn’t feel peaceful or strong right now. But he remembered the good feeling he had during their family prayer.
Together they walked back into the room. Joe’s sisters were playing a card game, just like they did at home. And they all looked happy, even Sariah.
Then Joe noticed something. Sariah had headphones around her neck and his music player in her lap.
“She keeps listening to the songs you picked for her,” Mom said. “It really helps her feel calm.”
Joe felt warm inside. He knew that Heavenly Father was already helping them.

Marci dropped her sleeping bag on the kitchen floor. “I was trapped!” she wailed to her mother. “Just trapped. What else could I do?”
“You really had no choice,” said Mother. “Anyway, I agree with Hoa and her parents. If you had Hoa spend the night with you, then you should be willing to spend a night with her.”
“But, Mom,” groaned Marci. “That’s different. They live in a one-bedroom apartment. Hoa, her little sister, and I will be sleeping in the front room. And that’s part of the kitchen!”
Marci didn’t expect an answer. She could hear the car in the driveway and knew Dad was waiting. Sighing, she picked up her sleeping bag. “Well, I guess I have to go. Hoa would be very hurt if I didn’t.”
As Marci entered the apartment where her friend Hoa lived, Hoa’s mother turned from the stove. “We are most glad you came, Marci. We thank you.”
Marci smiled and put her sleeping bag under the kitchen table. Hoa was pouring rice into a pot. “What are you doing,” Marci asked.
“I always fix the rice for dinner,” answered Hoa. A small face peeked from behind her legs. “This is my little sister, Truc.”
Marci knelt down and touched the little girl on the arm. “Hello, Truc,” she said. “I’ve wanted to meet you.”
Truc waved a few fingers at Marci, and Marci reached for her hand.
“She’s cute,” said Marci. “I would baby-sit her any day.”
Hoa’s mother turned around and asked, “What is ‘baby-sit?’”
“I would watch Truc for you,” answered Marci.
The mother smiled. “No need,” she said. “Where I go, Truc goes or Hoa watches her.”
“Vietnamese do not use baby-sitters,” explained Hoa. She winked at Marci. “But you baby-sit me. I always have to ask you what to do.”
Marci laughed. That was true. She had been explaining different things to her new friend for six months now, ever since Hoa had come to her school.
When the father came home, they sat down for dinner. Marci thought it was very quiet, not like dinner at her house. Everyone spoke softly, and Marci could feel her voice become quieter.
“Does your name have a meaning, Marci?” asked Hoa’s father.
“I don’t understand,” said Marci.
“Vietnamese names have another meaning,” explained Hoa. “Mine means flower. Truc means bamboo.”
Marci studied Hoa. She does look like a flower. Marci looked at Truc. She wasn’t sure she resembled bamboo. “I wish my name did have another meaning, but I don’t think the names of many people in the United States do.”
After dinner, Hoa’s mother began cooking again.
“What are you making, Mother?” asked Hoa.
“For Marci I would like to make pho,” she replied. “We will eat it in the morning.”
“Oh, good!” Hoa smiled and turned to Marci. “Pho is like a soup. It is made with beef and egg noodles. You will like it.”
Marci nodded. She was sitting on the floor and Truc was on her lap. Marci looked around the room. There were no toys. A small television set was perched on a low table, but no one seemed interested in turning it on.
“Truc, have you ever heard the story of Peter Rabbit?” asked Marci.
Truc shook her head, and Marci began the story. Then she told her the story of Cinderella. After that, she related some tales about Daniel Boone and Paul Revere. Hoa and her parents listened too. They had never heard the stories either. When Truc fell asleep, Marci looked at her watch. It was ten o’clock! Hoa’s mother took Truc away to get her ready for bed.
Hoa’s father stood up and bowed. “You are most welcome, Marci. We liked the stories. I hope you have a good time here. Goodnight.”
Marci stood up and made a slight bow back to Hoa’s father. “This is one of the best times I have ever had,” she said.
Hoa yawned and brought out a mat to spread on the floor. Marci pulled her sleeping bag from under the table and put it next to Hoa’s mat. After the girls were ready for bed, Marci crawled into her sleeping bag and looked at Hoa. The warm smell of pho filled the room. “Thank you for asking me,” she whispered. “I’m really glad I came.”

Paul loved to save dimes. He saved shiny new dimes and tarnished old dimes. He saved the dimes he received for his birthday.
Grandma would give Paul dimes after he pulled the weeds in her flower garden. Grandpa would give Paul dimes for helping him herd the cows into the barn for milking.
Father would give Paul dimes for helping with the yard work. Mother would give him dimes for watching his little brother.
Paul had a lot of dimes, but no place to keep them. He put dimes in his sneakers, but they hurt his feet when he walked. He put dimes in his pockets, but they fell out when he ran and jumped. So Paul took all his dimes and put them on his dresser. He kept putting more and more dimes on his dresser. Soon the top of the dresser was full of dimes.
One morning at breakfast Mother said, “You have so many dimes on your dresser that I can’t dust it.”
“And I have no place to set my new goldfish,” said his big brother.
“I have an idea,” said Father. “I’ll show you when I come home from work today.”
When Father came home, he was carrying a box. He handed it to Paul. Inside it were many green paper tubes, an envelope with the bishop’s name on it, and a small jar.
“How will these help me with my dimes?” asked Paul.
“Come with me, and I’ll show you,” said Father.
They went to Paul’s room. Paul made lots of piles by counting ten dimes into each pile. Father had him put one dime from each pile into the envelope. Then Paul recounted the remaining dimes the same way. Every time he had five piles of ten dimes, Father put them into a green tube and closed it. When no more tubes could be filled, Paul put the leftover dimes into the jar and put it on the dresser.
“What do we do now?” Paul asked.
“Let’s see how much money you put in the envelope so that we can fill out the tithing slip,” said Father. “Then you can take your tithing money to the bishop on Sunday. Tomorrow after work I’ll take you to the bank, where you can turn in your rolls of dimes. The bank will keep your money in a savings account.”
The next day Father took Paul to the bank. The lady behind the desk took all of Paul’s neatly wrapped dimes. She gave him a small book with his name printed on it. Inside, the book it told him how much money he had given the lady.
On Sunday Paul went to the bishop’s office. He proudly gave his tithing envelope to the bishop.
“Thank you,” said the bishop. “I’m sure that the Lord will bless you for paying your tithing.”
Paul felt very happy. He knew the Lord had already blessed him.

I hold in sacred memory two priesthood bearers who had qualified for the Spirit of God to go with them on the errand to which the Lord called them. They had found the restored gospel themselves in America. They were the Lord’s servants who first spoke of that gospel to two of my European ancestors.

One of those ancestors was a young girl living on a small farm in Switzerland. Another was a young man, an orphan and an immigrant to the United States from Germany, living in St. Louis, Missouri.

Both of them heard a priesthood holder testify of the restored gospel—for the girl by the fireplace of her little home in Switzerland, and for the boy it was sitting in the balcony of a rented hall in America. Both of them knew by the Spirit that the message those elders brought to them was true.

The boy and the girl chose to be baptized. The two of them met for the first time on the dusty trail years later, walking hundreds of miles to the mountains of western America. They talked as they walked. What they talked about was the miraculous blessing that in all the world, the servants of God had found them and even more miraculous, that they knew their message was true.

They fell in love and were married. And because of a testimony of the Spirit, which began as they heard the words of priesthood holders under the influence of the Holy Ghost, they were sealed for eternity by priesthood power. I am among the tens of thousands of descendants of that boy and that girl who bless the names of two priesthood holders who brought the ministrations of the Spirit of God with them as they climbed the hill in Switzerland and rose to speak in that meeting in St. Louis.

I previously mentioned pornography. It easily becomes an addiction of the worst kind. Let me read to you from a letter I received from a victim:

“I would like to share something with you that I have not been able to share with anyone else. I am a 35-year-old male. For most of my adult life I have been addicted to pornography. I am very ashamed to admit this, … but for the most part, my addiction is as real as that of an alcoholic or a drug addict. …

“The main reason for my writing is to tell you that the Church can’t do enough to counsel the members to avoid pornography. I was first introduced to this material as a child. I was molested by an older male cousin, and pornography was used to attract my interest. I am convinced that this exposure at an early age to sex and pornography is at the root of my addiction today.

“I think it is ironic that those who support the business of pornography say that it is a matter of freedom of expression. I have no freedom. I have lost my free agency because I have been unable to overcome this. It is a trap for me, and I can’t seem to get out of it. Please, please, please plead with the brethren of the Church not only to avoid but eliminate the sources of pornographic material in their lives. Besides the obvious things like books and magazines, they need to turn off cable movie channels in their homes. I know many who have these services and claim that they are able to screen the bad things out, but this is not true. …

“Pornography and perversion have become so commonplace in our lives that the sources of this material are everywhere. I have found pornographic magazines by the roadside and in dumps. We need to talk to our children and explain how evil these things are and encourage them to avoid looking at them when they come across them. …

“Finally, President Hinckley, please pray for me and others in the Church who may be like me to have the courage and strength to overcome this terrible affliction.

“I am unable to sign my name, and I hope that you will understand.”

When I was a young boy, as I read the Book of Mormon, I often wondered why Laman and Lemuel did not believe the truths that were given to them, even when an angel of the Lord appeared and spoke to them directly. Why couldn’t Laman and Lemuel be more humble and obedient to the teachings of their father, Lehi, and their younger brother Nephi?
I found one of the answers to this question in 1 Nephi, which states that Nephi was “grieved because of the hardness of their hearts.” Nephi asked his older brothers, “How is it that ye are so hard in your hearts, and so blind in your minds?”
What does it mean to have a hardness of heart?
The Korean translation of “hardness” in the Book of Mormon is ?? (Wan-Aak: ??). This phrase uses the Chinese character “Wan” (?), meaning “stubborn,” and “Aak” (?), meaning “wicked.” When we harden our hearts, we are blinded, and good things cannot come into our hearts or our minds. We become stubborn and begin to place more focus on worldly desires, closing our hearts to the things of God. We choose to focus solely on our own thoughts while not accepting the opinions and guidance of others. We choose to not open our hearts to the things of God but instead to the influence of the things of the world and the adversary. When our hearts are hardened, we resist the influence of the Holy Ghost. We are “slow to remember the Lord,” and over time we become “past feeling” His words.
Alma taught the people in Ammonihah that some “would reject the Spirit of God on account of the hardness of their hearts.” He also taught that “they that will harden their hearts, to them is given the lesser portion of the word until they know nothing concerning his mysteries.” Eventually, the Spirit withdraws, and the Lord “will take away [His] word” from those who have hardened their hearts just like Laman and Lemuel. Because Laman and Lemuel continually hardened their hearts, resisted the feelings of the Holy Ghost, and chose not to accept the words and teachings of their father and Nephi, they ultimately rejected eternal truths from God.
In contrast to Laman and Lemuel, Nephi continually humbled himself, seeking guidance from the Spirit of the Lord. In return, the Lord softened Nephi’s heart. Nephi shares that he “did cry unto the Lord; and behold he did visit me, and did soften my heart that I did believe all the words which had been spoken by my father.” The Lord helped Nephi to accept, understand, and believe all the mysteries of God and His words. Nephi was able to have the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost.
What can we do to not harden our hearts?
First, we can practice daily repentance.
Our Savior taught, “Whoso repenteth and cometh unto me as a little child, him will I receive.” Our beloved prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, taught:
“Repenting is the key to progress. Pure faith keeps us moving forward on the covenant path.
“Please do not fear or delay repenting. Satan delights in your misery. … Start today to experience the joy of putting off the natural man. The Savior loves us always but especially when we repent.”
As we experience the joy of softening our hearts and coming to the Lord, we become “as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father.”
Second, we can practice humility.
Daily repentance will bring humility to our hearts. We want to become humble before the Lord, like a little child who obeys their father. We will then always have the Holy Spirit with us, and our hearts will soften.
My wife, Sue, and I have known a wonderful couple for the last four years. When we initially met them, the husband was a new member of the Church, and his wife was meeting with the missionaries to study the gospel. Many missionaries met with her to help her come unto Christ. We felt that she had a vibrant testimony of the gospel and knew that the Church was true. She felt the Spirit often during our visits and actively participated in all the meetings. She loved to interact with the wonderful members of the ward. However, she found it difficult to commit herself to enter the waters of baptism. One day she was reading Moroni 7:43–44, which reads:
“And again, behold I say unto you that he cannot have faith and hope, save he shall be meek, and lowly of heart.
“If so, [your] faith and hope is vain, for none is acceptable before God, save the meek and lowly in heart.”
After reading these verses, she realized what she needed to do. She thought that she had understood the meaning of being meek and humble. However, her understanding was not sufficient enough to have faith and hope to obey the commandments of God. She had to let go of her stubbornness and her own wisdom. She started to humble herself through sincere repentance. She began to understand humility in the perspective of God’s eyes. She relied on Heavenly Father and prayed to soften her own heart. Through these prayers, she felt the Spirit witness to her that Heavenly Father wanted her to be baptized.
Both husband and wife shared that the more they became humble, the more they could understand the words of God, and their hearts were softened to follow the teachings of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Third, we can trust and rely on our Savior.
Nephi was a great example of allowing his heart to be softened by trusting in the Lord. He taught, “I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever. I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh.” Similarly, in a revelation given to the Prophet Joseph Smith, the Lord said, “Put your trust in that Spirit which leadeth to do good—yea, to do justly, to walk humbly.” When we put our trust in the Lord and rely on Him, He will soften our hearts, and we will be supported in our trials, troubles, and afflictions.
If we sincerely repent, humble ourselves, and trust and rely on the Lord, our hearts will be softened. He will then pour out His Spirit and show us the mysteries of heaven. We will believe all the words that He has taught, and our understanding will deepen.
Our Savior, Jesus Christ, was the ultimate example of meekness. In 2 Nephi 31:7, we read, “But notwithstanding he being holy, he showeth unto the children of men that, according to the flesh he humbleth himself before the Father, and witnesseth unto the Father that he would be obedient unto him in keeping his commandments.” Even though He was holy and perfect, He humbled Himself before the Father and was obedient to Him by being baptized.
At the end of His mortal life, Jesus Christ submitted His own will to His Father by partaking of the bitter cup. This suffering caused Him “to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit.” The Savior asked that He “might not drink the bitter cup, and shrink.” “Nevertheless,” He said, “glory be to the Father, and [He] partook and finished [His] preparations unto the children of men.”
Brothers and sisters, we’ve been given moral agency. We can choose to harden our hearts, or we can choose to soften our hearts. In our daily lives, we can choose to do the things that invite the Lord’s Spirit to come into and dwell in our hearts. I know that in these choices, there is peace and joy.
Let us follow the example of our Savior, Jesus Christ, who followed the will of the Father. As we do so, the Lord has promised us, “For, behold, I will gather them as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, if they will not harden their hearts.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Just outside Omaha, Nebraska, in the Mormon Pioneer Cemetery stands a monument commemorating the suffering of the Saints at Winter Quarters and honoring the faith and dedication of these Mormon pioneers. These statues portray a grieving father and mother holding each other in their arms looking down at the tiny grave of their child. There were many such graves along the trail—graves of babies, little children, young adults, even mothers and fathers who were laid to rest in often hurriedly dug shallow graves or just beneath the snow when the ground was too frozen to break.

Caroline and Jedediah Grant buried their four-month-old daughter, Margaret, near the Sweetwater River in Wyoming. With the grief over the loss of her baby weighing heavily on her soul, Caroline’s health soon began to decline. Suffering from the effects of cholera, her condition rapidly became critical. The camp fasted and prayed in her behalf, but it was apparent that Sister Grant would not recover. About midnight she rallied a little and called for her husband and daughter. Susan Noble remembered that Caroline looked at her husband, Jedediah, and whispered

“All is well! All is well! Please take me to the valley—Jeddy. Get Margaret—bring her—to me!” Brother Grant answered tenderly and meaningly as he sobbed with sorrow, “Yes, yes, Caroline. I’ll do my best. I’ll do my best.”

Jedediah built a coffin, placed the body of his wife in it, and then drove day and night the last 75 miles to the Salt Lake Valley. On September 30, 1847, he buried her a short distance from the pioneer fort then under construction. The next day Jedediah Grant took with him his friend Bates Noble and headed east on his promised mission to retrieve the body of his baby daughter, Margaret, and return her for burial next to her mother. After several days on the trail they arrived in the Sweetwater region where Margaret had been buried. Bates Noble recorded:

Another day or so and we were at the end of our eastward journey. As we intended making it back to Sweet Water for the night, we stopped our rig [near the campsite] where just a month previous a terrible night had been spent [digging a grave] in a driving thunder storm. We now stepped forward, carrying the box and shovels. A few paces from the little grave we stopped hesitatingly, set down our things and stood with eyes fixed before us. Neither tried to speak. An ugly hole replaced the small mound; and so recently had the wolves departed that every sign was fresh before us. I dared not raise my eyes to look at Jedediah. From the way I felt, I could but guess his feelings. Like statues of the wilderness we stood, grown to the spot, each fully realizing that nothing more could be done. After several minutes of silent tears, we quietly withdrew, carrying away again only that which we had brought.

Jedediah Grant could do no more. He had done his best, as he had promised. But now all he had left was his faith and hope in Christ.

Consider, for example, the parable of the two mirrors:

The King of the land sent one of his sons and one of his daughters off on an important journey to establish peace in the land. The brother and sister set off and followed the King’s directions carefully. Then, unexpectedly, there arose a great storm. The wind blew, the rain was heavy, and swirling debris obscured the path. The son and daughter took refuge in a small hut.

In the hut were two mirrors beckoning for their attention and focus. Each mirror showed them a vision of the future with them in the picture. The first mirror was full of darkness and swirling fog. The son and daughter saw themselves in despair, lost, hungry and cold, unable to complete the journey. The mirror seemed to whisper, “Turn back; it’s hopeless; give up.”

The second mirror was bright and clear. They could see the storm, but they saw themselves making their way through it, completing their journey and establishing peace. The second mirror seemed to whisper, “Carry on; walk in the light; the way is sure; you can do it.”

They chose the second mirror, left the hut with confidence, fought their way through the storm, and completed their journey. You and I are often like the son and daughter. We keep the commandments and make progress in our journey of peace. But we encounter storms of life that bring uncertainty, anxiety, and stress.

When the storms come, the same two mirrors beckon for our attention. The first mirror is the mirror of fear; its perspective is the fallen world. When we look into the mirror of fear, we see a future that is dark and unhappy, full of failure, self-doubt, and even despair. The mirror of fear is the mirror of the adversary who whispers, “Things are going to be bad. It’s not going to work. It’s all your fault. You’re not going to make it. Give up.”

The second mirror is the mirror of hope and faith. It is the mirror of Christ; its perspective is eternal. In that mirror we see ourselves as beloved, valiant spirit children of Heavenly Father, here on earth to gain the experiences of mortality and to learn to be obedient and faithful. The Spirit whispers that the Savior, who has all power over all things, loves us and will help us through anything that happens. If we look into the mirror of Christ, trust in Him and in His timing, we will face our storms with hope and stop the cascade of fear.

One of the mountains we had to climb was when we were making all the arrangements with my wife’s family for our marriage. Her family, who is Catholic, made it a condition that if I wanted to marry their daughter, we had to get married religiously in the Catholic Church. We were completely at a loss as to what to do.
My wife and I said to each other that temple marriage is a commandment of God. We had faith in Him and in His Son Jesus Christ; we decided to pray and fast, and then whatever our Heavenly Father would reveal to us we would do it, even if it meant getting married in a Catholic church. We decided to meet with my wife’s family to ask them if we could all pray together. If our Heavenly Father revealed to us that we should get married in the Catholic Church, then we would do it. But if God revealed to us that we should get married in the temple, then we would invite my wife’s family to accept that answer. Our goal was to accept the will of God.
After we prayed and fasted, our Heavenly Father revealed to us that we should get married in the temple. To our great surprise, my in-laws did not challenge us anymore.
We have been married now for three years, and we plan to go to the temple next month.
A few months ago, my mother-in-law told my wife that she felt that we had bewitched them during the prayer. They did not understand what had happened! My wife tenderly explained that it was the Spirit of God that touched her heart.

It was my first transfer as a senior companion in the Argentina Buenos Aires South Mission, and I felt like I was quite on top of my game. My companion and I had achieved what every missionary dreams of: we had found an entire family that was willing to have us teach them. The father, Hugo, was especially willing to listen to the gospel.
Hugo loved everything about the Church. He loved listening to our message, the Church members, and the scriptures. He and his whole family wanted to join the Church so badly, but he had to quit smoking first. My companion and I planned and prayed, trying to come up with a solution to help Hugo with his addiction.
One night, we were creating a plan with Hugo to quit smoking. He was discouraged and doubted whether it would be possible. I felt inspired to share with him a scripture that would later become one of my favorites: “And Christ hath said: If ye will have faith in me ye shall have power to do whatsoever thing is expedient in me” (Moroni 7:33). I asked Hugo, “Do you think that your baptism is ‘expedient’ to Jesus Christ?”
“Absolutely, Elder Ballard,” Hugo replied. “But I don’t think I can quit smoking.”
“The Lord promises you in this scripture that if you will have faith in Christ, it will be possible,” I assured him. We finished making our plan with him, which was a quick process that would eventually require him to stop completely, and he resolved to follow it.
Hugo quit smoking within the week and his whole family was baptized into the Church the following Sunday. I know that Hugo had found power in the scripture I shared with him.

Have you ever been in an uncomfortable situation and thought "how did I get here," or more accurately "how did I allow this to happen?" I felt this way when, while living in Allentown PA, a group of my friends thought that it would be fun to have a "girls' night out" and go dancing. Even though we planned on going to a club, we wouldn't be drinking and I thought that there would be no harm in dancing with my friends. As soon as I entered the club, I started to feel uncomfortable. This was not a place where a daughter of God should be spending time. It was rather, a place where people were dulling their senses with alcohol and giving away their dignity by the way they dressed and acted. What a mistake; how had I allowed this to happen? I succumbed to peer pressure and listened to worldly friends instead of listening to the Spirit.

Choosing our friends carefully is important in our life-long journey. Now I'm not talking about limiting our friends to those who are well-dressed, or those who move in the popular social circle. The Savior chose his disciples by looking at the inner man, not by considering their appearance or their occupation. If we could look at people with "heavenly glasses" we may be surprised at who is dressed in royal robes. When we surround ourselves with associates who uplift us and encourage us to do better, we put ourselves on a path to spiritual success.

I grew up as an only child, raised by a single mother. We moved a lot. I remember feeling like I had no stability or a place to call home. When I was a senior in high school, my mother moved to California and I stayed behind in Utah, hoping to find some stability in my life.
I moved in with some relatives. I came and went as I pleased, and I never had to check in with anyone. Sounds like every teenager’s dream, right? It wasn’t for me, and it wasn’t the stability I was hoping for. I still felt like I didn’t belong. I felt alone.
I put on a brave, happy face during the day, but at night I often found myself parked in a Church parking lot listening to Church music in tears. I began to have this desperate feeling to know that God truly existed.
“Heavenly Father, I want to know that Thou dost exist. I am lost. I feel alone. I want to know for myself. I so desperately need to know.”
Silence. All I heard was silence.
That peace and comfort never came. I always left feeling defeated, like I had wasted my time in prayer. The prayers I offered up those nights in my car, in tears, always seemed to go unanswered. There always seemed to be … silence.
Over the next several years, I still felt alone, but despite those prayers that seemed to go unanswered, I still had faith that God existed.
When I met the man who became my husband, I finally felt a sense of belonging and stability—a sense of home. His family welcomed me wholeheartedly. That was a big deal for me because I had longed for those feelings for so long. When we married in the temple, I felt so much joy in joining a family centered on the gospel.
I loved seeing priesthood blessings being given at home, attending church in my husband’s mother’s ward with dinner in her orchard to follow, and listening to sweet music playing from her kitchen window as we all sat, ate, and talked. These experiences took root in my heart and began to fill a void that so needed to be filled. This family unit was just what I needed, and God knew it. But He wasn’t finished answering those late-night prayers.
I sat with my mother-in-law on her porch one morning. She said something that was so meaningful to me. For the first time in my life, I heard the Spirit testifying to me that Heavenly Father really existed.
“When you know Heavenly Father is really there,” she said, “everything changes.”
From there, everything did change! My testimony grew as I sought to know more. Now I know when the Spirit speaks to me. I know that sweet feeling when He is near.
One day I read an inspiring question on social media that asked, “Where will you meet the Lord today?”
I “met” Him through a spiritual impression that came to me as I walked along a trail near our home several years after I got married. I stopped walking and wrote down the impression. I saw myself all those years ago, sitting alone in the Church parking lot and understood that, back then, God saw what I couldn’t.
What I couldn’t see then was that one day God would show me who He was through my future mother-in-law, whom I had not met yet. He could see that I would gain a bond with her that would build and strengthen me in ways I had never known before.
He was answering me way back when, but I didn’t hear it. He saw the big picture, and I didn’t. I couldn’t see His plans for me. In that moment on my walk, He gently impressed upon my heart what He had had in store for me all along.
When I hear my mother-in-law pray or speak of her steadfast love for her Savior, I can feel her testimony. Being blessed to become one of her daughters is a special gift from God. Her testimony is also a gift from God that blesses all our lives. I know that my Savior lives because she has spent her whole life drawing near to Him. She radiates His reality for all to see.
“To some it is given by the Holy Ghost to know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and that he was crucified for the sins of the world.
“To others it is given to believe on their words, that they also might have eternal life if they continue faithful.”
Doctrine and Covenants 46:13–14.

Minjun and Dad hurried into the Church building, the cold wind blowing behind them. It was chilly inside the building too. Minjun hoped it would get warmer as more people gathered.
Minjun’s friend Jungmin was getting baptized today. Jungmin had met with the sister missionaries and thought about getting baptized for a long time. The whole ward had fasted and prayed for him. Finally he decided to be baptized. And today was the day!
The font was still filling up with water when Minjun and Dad walked into the room. They sat down next to Minjun’s friend James. Soon Jungmin walked in, dressed in white baptismal clothing.
“He looks a little nervous,” James said.
Minjun nodded. He was glad he could be here for his friend.
Soon the font was filled. It was time for the baptism to begin! But instead of starting, the missionaries were talking with some of the other members, and they looked worried. Dad went to see what was wrong.
“What’s the matter?” Minjun asked Dad.
“The water heater in the building is broken, so the water in the font is very cold,” Dad said.
Minjun looked at the font. At his baptism, there had been warm weather, warm water, and even his dad’s warm hug when he came out of the water. He couldn’t imagine being baptized in cold water on such a cold winter day.
Minjun watched as Jungmin courageously stepped into the water with Elder Keck, who was going to baptize him.
“It’s too cold!” Jungmin said. “I can’t stay in here any longer.” He climbed back out of the font, shivering. Minjun felt sad for him.
A few minutes later, Jungmin tried to get in the water again. This time he only made a few steps before hurrying out. He tried two more times. The water was freezing! Jungmin looked like he was about to cry.
Minjun said a silent prayer asking how he could help.
“What should we do?” someone said.
“Should we postpone the baptism?” someone else asked. Everyone wanted to help Jungmin, but they didn’t know how.
Then Minjun had an idea. He gave James a nudge. “Let’s go, James!”
Minjun and James went to the kitchen. They found a large cup and bowl and filled them with hot water from the water dispenser. They carefully carried them back to the chapel and dumped the hot water in the font. “Maybe this will help warm the water up!” Minjun said.
Everyone was surprised. “Why didn’t we think of that?” someone asked.
Together, everyone started adding warm water from the kitchen. Some people boiled water on the stove. Others carefully carried the pots across the hall and poured the hot water into the font. Even the other Primary children helped, one cup at a time.
Finally the water was warm enough. Jungmin and Elder Keck stepped all the way into the font. Minjun felt warm in his heart as he listened to Elder Keck say the words of the baptism prayer. When Jungmin came out of the water, he was smiling. Everyone was happy.
After Jungmin changed into his dry clothes, Minjun gave him a big hug. Minjun knew that whenever he prayed with courage, Heavenly Father would help him know what to do. This baptism was one Minjun would never forget!
Jungmin with the missionaries and with some of the people who helped carry water.
See Come, Follow Me for 3 Nephi 8–11.

Last January in an effort to stimulate missionary activity, our Ohio stakes presented a program on the Word of Wisdom entitled “What Makes Mormons Run?” Church leaders encouraged members to bring many friends and neighbors to this meeting. A stake high councilor was sure his neighbors would refuse; and though he felt obligated to invite his next-door neighbor, he kept putting it off, knowing they would not accept.
Finally, somewhat embarrassed, he decided not to postpone the challenge any longer; and after praying that his approach and words would not be misunderstood by his neighbor, and holding the hand of his eight-year-old daughter, he went next door. They knocked on the door, were warmly greeted, and invited in. An invitation was extended to this neighbor family to come and hear a world leader and a prophet of God. The family agreed to attend.
Now it was much easier to ask other neighbors, friends, associates, his daughter’s piano teacher, and many others. His newly found courage led to more success and a comfortable feeling. Over forty people responded to his invitation. They had to charter a bus to transport their guests to the meeting.
And what about the first neighbor he invited? They are now members of the Church, a potential “forever family.” Before this family was baptized, this high councilor wrote, “I tremble to think that because of my reluctance to share the gospel with my neighbors, this choice family would have lost the blessings of the gospel. Oh, that every Church member could feel this wonderful experience!”
And why did his neighbor decide to investigate the Church? The neighbor said: “If any other neighbor had come to my door to invite me to investigate religion, I would have declined; but we were so impressed with your family, your cleanliness, and your actions. You are always friendly and smiling. Your yard looks so neat and clean, and you are up working in your yard before anyone else is out of bed in the morning. We wanted to learn more about you and your church.”

This principle was brought to light when I was in high school. I had taken an art class in my senior year, because it seemed like an easy A.

When the teacher assigned each of us to sculpt from clay, our favorite figure, I decided in my state of consummate humility, to sculpt myself.....I chose an action pose of myself as a football player. I was excited each day to get to my art class to work on perfecting me. After a few days, what was once a large block of clay began to take form. There were few projects throughout my high school life that I spent more time on, as it was important to perfect this image. After all, I surmised, someday my children will observe this masterpiece and I want there to be no doubt that the small statue looked just like me. I took a few liberties, of course, and depicted the muscles to be a bit bigger and the facial features to be more handsome. I carved in my jersey number to leave no doubt as to who this masterpiece resembled.

Once the sculpture was complete, it was set on the shelf to dry. Within a few days it would be placed into the furnace to remove all of the moisture from the clay and harden the statue to resist the test of time. It was spring break and so the statue was left over the weeklong holiday on the shelf. When I returned, to my surprise, the small statue had hardened on its own. To the eye and touch, it seemed that it was hard enough and so I decided to bypass the oven. I began to paint the sculpture the school colors and painstakingly insured that every detail was covered. I was so proud of my work. The replica of me had actually turned out to be better than the original. I received a much anticipated A on the project and proudly took the statue home and placed it on the shelf in my bedroom. A few months later, as I was cleaning out my room in anticipation for my mission, I moved the statue to a different shelf. I was surprised when one of the legs fell off. I grabbed some glue from the drawer and attempted to glue the leg back on.

When I returned the next day and tried to check on the result of my glue job, I picked up the statue and both legs fell off. I was beside myself; how could my masterpiece be falling apart? All efforts to put it back together failed and along with the legs, eventually the arms fell off, as well. Sadly, and out of options, I ultimately took what was left of the crumbling figure that had once so wonderfully represented me and placed it in the trash can. I reflected then, and still do, on my consummate failure. I had put so much into this project and yet, I failed to follow one of the most important steps in the creation of my masterpiece. In spite of all my efforts, what seemed like a small omission led to the ultimate destruction of “me”.

Work was coming to an end for the day at Laidlaw Waste Management Systems in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, and Don Hughes, a high councilor in the Edmonton Alberta Millwoods Stake, was sitting at his desk thinking about leaving for home a little earlier than usual.
It was about 3:30 on the afternoon of 31 July 1987, during the hottest week many residents of Edmonton could remember for a long time. It had been unusually humid. The evening before, a strange cloud mass had moved across the city, looking almost like a special visual effect made for a movie.
Brother Hughes’ wife had visited him a little earlier in the day and had suggested that he leave the office then.
“I had this feeling that I wanted to go home, but I had a stronger feeling that said, ‘Stay. You have some things to do here,’” he recalls. “I didn’t know what I had left to finish, but I listened to the prompting and stayed. I told my wife I’d come home soon.”
Shortly afterward, the electricity went out in that part of the city. One of the seven people in the office, looking from the window, pointed out the funnel cloud of a tornado coming from the south. “As soon as I saw it,” Brother Hughes said, “it was as though the Spirit said to me, ‘That is going to come right through this place. You’ve got to get these people ready.’”
Brother Hughes told his co-workers to keep watching the approaching storm, then he went into the back area of the building. The twelve or more workers there were also watching the storm develop. It grew bigger by the second. The tornado was clearly moving toward them.
Brother Hughes remembered that a friend who used to live in the United States told him that if a tornado ever came his way, to get to a sturdy, protected spot. “I told the men to get to the spare parts room. It had concrete block walls and was in a central part of the building. But I could tell that no one was really listening to me, they were too busy watching the approaching tornado.”
He ran to the front office and saw the tornado ready to touch down to the ground. It made contact in a nearby lumberyard, which was rapidly sucked up into the cloud. By now the tornado filled the whole sky. Sounding like a huge freight train, it sucked piles of wood into its blackness, along with vehicles, sheds, and machinery.
“I told all the office staff to get to the lunchroom right away and stay there until the storm was over. I watched until everyone had gone, then went to check on the other employees at the rear of the building,” Brother Hughes says. “The building south of us was collapsing in the storm. One of our men was taking a photograph, but the rest of them looked nervous. They were wondering where they could go for safety.”
Again, Brother Hughes directed them to the spare parts room, but they still hesitated.
“Then I shouted instructions to them louder and stronger than I knew I could. I felt it was the Spirit working, telling them to ‘Move, now!’ It seemed to clear their minds.” They all quickly went to the spare parts room.
When he was sure his co-workers were safe, Brother Hughes started running to the front of the building. The tornado had already destroyed the trucking company across the highway and was gaining on Brother Hughes as he ran.
Windows started blowing out in the Laidlaw building. “The noise was like shotguns going off—BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM—as they shattered and exploded.”
Running into a small storage room for shelter, he slammed the door shut and braced himself against the wall, hoping everyone else in the building was protected.
“I felt more than heard the storm get louder outside. It roared like a train or a jet engine, a rumbling sound mixed with a high-pitched moan.
“I did a lot of praying quickly. I prayed for the people who were there with me. I prayed for my family and the families of those who were there, that they would be watched over and protected. I prayed and hoped it was the Lord’s will that I would survive, but said I was ready to come before him if that was his will.”
As Brother Hughes prayed, the building—sheets of steel on a steel framework—blew apart. Outside, semi-trailer tractors, steel storage vaults, massive air compressors, and industrial garbage containers were tossed around in the air like toys. A wall of the storage room fell in, pushing Brother Hughes to the floor, but sheltering him from other debris. When he opened his eyes and looked up where the ceiling had been, the roaring black cloud was over his head. He was terrified that it might touch down to earth again, but the tornado moved away from the building.
Brother Hughes crawled out of his shelter and forced the battered door open to escape from the storage room. “I expected to see part of the building damaged, but there was nothing left intact. It was as though someone had flattened things with a giant mallet.”
The husband of one of the women from the front office had arrived just before the tornado hit, and had found shelter nearby. He and Brother Hughes ran to where the lunchroom walls had caved in on top of each other, forming a mound of debris. Climbing to the top of the mound, the two men were relieved to find the office staff safely together in a corner where two walls had formed a rough shelter.
Brother Hughes and his companion then made their way to where the spare parts room had been. They found four or five of the men there already out from under the rubble. The group used their bare hands to pull twisted steel and concrete blocks off the debris that had sheltered the rest of their coworkers. Then the men pulled the front office staff out of the wreckage at the other end of the building. During the destruction, only one person had suffered any lasting damage—a back injury.
When an emergency rescue team arrived, they found the Laidlaw workers using one of the company’s large industrial garbage containers for protection from the baseball size hail that fell following the tornado.
The tornado caused more destruction than had ever been seen before in Edmonton. It did more than a quarter of a billion dollars’ worth of damage. Twenty-seven people throughout the city were killed.
Standing on a hill overlooking the destroyed Laidlaw buildings, Don Hughes reflected on what might have happened. “It’s a miracle that none of our workers were killed. Only the areas where we went for safety survived to provide any kind of protection. When I look at the total devastation, it’s almost as if the Lord put out his hands and made a protective shelter for us.”

If we choose the wrong road, we choose the wrong destination. For example, a friend of many years told me that her husband, always a “good kid” in high school, took a few drinks he thought would help him forget some problems. Before he knew what was happening, he was addicted. Now he is not able to support his family, and he is ineffective at almost everything he tries to do. Alcohol governs his life, and he cannot seem to break free of its grip.