Gospel Story Finder

When Gerald Lund returned from his missionary service, he had determined that he would rather work than go to college.
“I went to work in the construction business,” he explains. “After spending one week cleaning cement forms with a power brush, I realized this was not how I wanted to spend my life.”
He promptly enrolled in Brigham Young University, where he completed his bachelor’s and master’s degrees. His decision to go to college not only changed his life but also resulted in many years of teaching the gospel.
Gerald Lund started teaching seminary in Salt Lake City in 1965, beginning a 34-year career with the Church Educational System. In addition to his early years teaching seminary, he taught institute, served as an institute director, worked as a curriculum writer, and fulfilled a number of administrative assignments. He is also the author of many popular books and articles.

The next week, I went to visit my mother in Manila. I asked her where I could find a priest to answer my questions. She suggested that I go to a Bible class my brother and sister were attending. I did as she said, praying in my heart that I would be able to ask my question. To my surprise, the priest began to explain the importance of baptism. I wasted no time, but raised my hand and asked, “Was there baptism for the dead before, as stated in 1 Corinthians 15:29 [1 Cor. 15:29]?” He read the verse aloud, then looked at his watch and dismissed the class. He said, “I will talk to you in my office.” He got his Greek translation of the Bible and other books, then started explaining the Resurrection. I said, “That is not the issue; I believe in the Resurrection.” After more than two hours of discussion, I was still not satisfied. He lent me two books to read.
The next day I asked the same question of an older priest. He told me that baptism for the dead was no longer necessary.
On April 1, the paper mill was temporarily shut down. I was reading a pamphlet called The Plan of Salvation when I began to feel a certainty that what I was reading was true. The Holy Ghost was bearing witness, making everything clear to me. I knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet, that the Church was true. I was crying. I had found something so precious. I wanted to tell my co-workers, but they would not understand. I went home early and found Karen at my home. “I know that the plan of salvation is true,” I told her, “and I want to be baptized.” She arranged for the missionaries to teach me.
The following day, I had my first discussion with Elder Johnson and Elder Barangan. I had such a strong desire to be baptized that I went to their home very early the next morning. When I told them of my desire, Elder Johnson told me that to be baptized I must obey the Word of Wisdom and attend church. I said, “I started obeying the Word of Wisdom when I saw the filmstrip, and I have attended the church several times.” They taught me three more discussions. Then on Easter Sunday, 7 April 1985, I was baptized. I felt that this was the very moment I had waited for since I was born.
That day was also Fast Sunday. I fasted, shared my testimony in sacrament meeting, and paid my tithing for the first time. After sharing my testimony, I had an even stronger conviction that I had made the right decision. I felt complete—no longer drifting, but with sure direction. I know that the Spirit bore witness to me.
Since my baptism, I have served a mission and have been an ordinance worker in the Manila Philippines Temple.
I feel so blessed to have the gospel in my life. I know that the Book of Mormon I rescued from the trash is the book that rescued me.

When I was eight, I chose to be baptized. As I was immersed in the water, I felt a special happiness that came from the Spirit. Shortly after my baptism, my mother passed away. I felt sad, depressed, and frustrated. No child should have to know how it feels to lose their mother.
However, three years later we went to the temple and were sealed as a family. The special feeling of the Spirit came back that day, and I felt that my mother was there by my side in the temple. I have faith that I will see her again someday.

Four years after Grandfather joined the Church, my father, then a young lad eight years old, accompanied his family and the members of two other families to a baptismal service. Grandfather was to baptize his young daughter and the daughters of a neighboring family on that cold December 3, 1899. As they traveled toward the stream at Reynold’s Mill, they were approached by three men on horseback. When the men asked where they were going, Grandfather explained their intentions. The leader threatened to bring a mob upon them if they carried out the baptismal service. Grandfather informed him that he and the 20 people with him would complete their errand regardless of what the man and his associates did. Grandfather and his party continued their journey to Reynold’s Mill.
Arriving at the mill they located a secluded spot for the baptism. The hill above the river was covered with trees, scrub oak, and ivy. My father, young John, was perched on a fallen tree that stretched out across a sandbar into the slow-moving stream. Here he could observe every detail of this sacred ordinance. Grandfather waded out into the stream to find the right depth and then returned to the riverbank for prayer. In the quiet of the prayer John heard the sound of a cracking limb. Opening his eyes and glancing quickly up the hill through the trees he saw the men who had stopped them earlier. They had arrived with a mob to carry out their threat. One of them was by a pile of rocks and was ready to pelt the baptismal participants. Suddenly all eyes were opened as a big redbone hound owned by the leader of the mob bounded down to within a few feet of my father. Young John looked fearfully at the hound as it growled menacingly. These men and their associates were determined to stop the baptisms from being performed. My Grandfather Pinegar courageously proceeded with the services.
Convinced now that these Mormon families were unafraid of his threat, the mob leader commanded his dog to attack Grandfather Pinegar. At this moment an amazing thing happened. The dog let out a low growl and his hair bristled like that on an angry hog’s back. Suddenly it bared its teeth and turned on its master, leaping at his throat and knocking him to the ground. The rest of the mob fled in fear when they saw the dog turn on its owner. As soon as the astonished leader could free himself from his dog, he left in hurried pursuit of his associates, with the dog yelping close at his heels.
A miracle had occurred! The Pinegar family and their neighbors thanked the Lord for their deliverance, and the baptismal service continued without further interruption.
That evening the families returned to Grandfather’s home. After darkness had fallen upon the mountain cabin, the troublemakers returned and again threatened to mob my grandfather and his Mormon friends. As they taunted him from the gate, Grandfather commanded them in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ to leave. The mob departed and did not return.

I was just 10 years old the first time I encountered pornography. I was at an older friend’s house, and we were watching television. He turned to his computer and said he had something to show me. When I asked what it was, he said, “Hot pictures of girls.” I told him it was against my religion to look at those kinds of things, but he said, “Yeah, right. Everyone looks at this stuff—it’s natural.” I refused to look at it and left.
Two years later I was at my friend’s house again. The difference this time was that I let curiosity and temptation get the better of me, and I agreed to look at what he had to show me. It was the biggest mistake of my life. I wish on a daily basis that I had not gone down the path I did.
I continued to look at pornography on my home computer. It was in a private place, but if anyone walked in on me, I said it was a pop-up or made some other excuse. For the next year I silenced the guilt I felt and didn’t even try to stop looking at pornography. I convinced myself that it was natural and ignored any counsel from the Church that told me otherwise. I didn’t realize it at first, but I had become addicted to pornography. The way I looked at girls started to change, and I was ashamed of the thoughts I had.
At a youth conference my stake president spoke to us about how looking at pornography makes young men unworthy to exercise the priesthood. His talk convinced me that I needed to stop. At first I thought I could do it on my own. I didn’t want to tell the bishop because I didn’t want him to judge me for what I was doing. Instead, I just resolved not to look at it anymore. Unfortunately, my resolves never lasted long. I promised myself every time was the last time, but the addiction was so ingrained in me that I would find myself looking at it again and again.
Many other sins came as a result of this one. I continued to go to church but didn’t pay attention. I let Satan gain power over my life and lost the influence of the Spirit. I lied about scripture reading in seminary. I lied about Boy Scout records. I even cheated in school. I became everything I had been taught not to be.
Five years passed while I tried to overcome my addiction with prayer and self-control. But I couldn’t beat the addiction by myself.
I finally admitted to my parents that I had a problem with pornography. I told them, “I need help. I can’t do this alone.” Even though it was hard on them, they understood and tried to help me. My parents encouraged me to meet with the bishop.
I knew my parents were right, but I was afraid to talk to my bishop. I considered him a friend, and I didn’t want him to know about all the sins I had kept hidden. When I finally gathered the courage to meet with him, I was surprised by how understanding he was. I didn’t feel like he was judging me at all; he just wanted to help.
As soon as I confessed fully to the bishop and started to repent, my life immediately got better. I understood that to repent fully of my addiction to pornography, I needed to repent of all my sins. I turned in all of my seminary awards and Scouting merit badges, admitting that I hadn’t earned them. I also confessed to my schoolteachers that I had cheated.
With the bishop’s help, I realized how important it is to confess both to the bishop and to the Lord (see D&C 58:43). Before, I was trying to fight this addiction all by myself, but now I have my parents, my bishop, and most important, the Lord on my side. These are strong defenses against temptation.
We got a parental lock on the computer, and I began to put pictures of the temple or the prophet nearby to keep my mind on sacred things. I discovered that daily scripture study was one of the most helpful ways to build my spiritual defenses. When I was looking at pornography, I don’t think I even knew where my scriptures were. But now I know I need to read my scriptures every day in order to resist temptation.
I’ve also had to be more careful about what I watch and listen to. Many television shows and movies talk about immorality as if it were natural. I’ve realized it is natural to the natural man, an enemy to God (see Mosiah 3:19). Only through the Atonement of Jesus Christ have I been able to put off the natural man and be forgiven of my sins. I know that if anyone can understand the regret I have suffered for my sins, it is the Savior, who suffered all things.
I have now forsaken my addiction to pornography. I have come to understand that through the Atonement, there is eternal hope. Although I will have to be constantly on my guard, with the help of the Spirit in my life, I will win the war. I know the devil will still try to tempt me, but he will never prevail when I have the Savior on my side.
I learned the hard way that it takes only one time to spark the beginning of a long addiction that will bring nothing but misery. I let idle curiosity lead me to sin and despair, but I am motivated to stay away from this plague for the rest of my life. I look forward to serving a mission, marrying in the temple, and eventually living with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ again.

Masha’s mother, Ludmila, works long hours Monday through Saturday in a shop downtown. She recently got this new job so she doesn’t have to work on Sundays. Ever since her baptism three years ago, she has been Relief Society president. Masha is learning a lot from her about service.

“When we find out somebody needs help,” says Sister Zemskova, “all the sisters in the branch help as much as they can.” One young mother whose husband has to work on Sundays found it difficult to get her two baby girls to church on her own. On many Sunday mornings, Masha and her mother help her get the children ready and to church. Masha plays with the babies at times so their mother can rest.

Then, the summer before his senior season, the time suddenly came for Eli to make a decision. That summer USA Today published an article that ranked the top professional prospects among college football players. To his surprise, Eli found his name on the list. It dawned on him how much money he could be making playing football the next year, and he knew he had to make a decision.
It was not an easy one. Eli knew that something he had often dreamed of since elementary school was within reach. He considered all the things that he could do with the money he would make as a professional football player: he could put his children through school and pay for their missions; he could have a retirement fund; he could go on as many missions with his wife as he wanted; he could teach and coach and not have any financial worries. He would be set.
On one hand there were good people who were active in the Church and who did a lot of good for the Church who played professional sports on Sunday. On the other hand, Eli had seen some very powerful examples of people who had refused to break the Sabbath.
One was Erroll Bennett, one of the top soccer players in Tahiti, whom Eli read about one day on his mission. When Brother Bennett joined the Church, he decided to withdraw from his team because he chose not to play on the Sabbath. When Eli read the story and saw how dedicated Brother Bennett was to the gospel, he was impressed. He says, “I knew I wanted to be a man like that, with that kind of commitment and dedication to what I knew was right.”
Eli discussed his choices with the people most important to him. His mother always reminded him of the commandment to keep the Sabbath day holy. His father, who had worked hard trying to support his family, told him to consider the decision carefully, reminding Eli how the money would help him support his wife and children. His wife, Jennifer, had received a paper in school full of quotations from leaders of the Church about the Sabbath day. Together they studied those and talked about the decision, but Jennifer and Eli’s parents all said that the decision was his and they would support him however he decided.
Eli talked to many other people. Some told him to play; some said maybe he shouldn’t. But Eli knew that talking to others wouldn’t make the decision for him. “When you’re considering giving up hundreds of thousands or millions of dollars,” he says, “it’s probably not something you’re going to do just because you’ve talked to someone.”
He knew that he would have to make the decision himself after praying to his Heavenly Father. Eli recalls: “It occurred to me to pray and fast about it because of what my parents taught me. … During the rest of the summer and through the next football season, all my scripture study and all my prayers and everything were focused on what the best decision would be. This lasted about six months. I didn’t make the final decision until the season was over at the end of December.”
That was an intense six months. Eli says: “I don’t think in my life other than sometimes on my mission I ever had the scriptures come to life for me as they did during that period of time. … I saw things I had never seen or understood before.”
One day, for example, he was reading in the Book of Mormon about Alma counseling his son Helaman. Alma urges his son: “O remember, remember, my son Helaman, how strict are the commandments of God. And he said: If ye will keep my commandments ye shall prosper in the land—but if ye keep not his commandments ye shall be cut off from his presence. … Therefore I command you, my son Helaman, that ye be diligent … in keeping the commandments of God as they are written” (Alma 37:13, 20).
The phrase “as they are written” particularly struck Eli. He knew the key to being in the Lord’s presence and to prospering was to keep the commandments “as they are written”—with exactness. Eli understood that to have financial security and other blessings for his family, “it was a more sure thing to keep the commandments and trust in the Lord than to have a million dollars.”
As the months progressed toward the end of the season, Eli became more sure of what he had to do. “I read my scriptures, and time after time I would see more and more and more reasons that I felt in my heart that I needed to observe the Sabbath more than I needed to play football,” Eli says.
When he finally made the decision, it was easy. He laughs now about all the attention he received: “I had been on the offensive line my whole career, and it’s not like a lineman gets a lot of recognition. I got so much more recognition for making that decision than I ever got for playing football. People wrote me, telling me what they thought about the decision I had made, good or bad. I never got so much mail in my life.”
Some people asked whether he had considered all the factors, and some asked if he had thought of all the money he could make. Eli laughs, “One of the most interesting things to me was that people would say, Haven’t you thought of this and this, when I had been thinking about it for ten years and had considered those things maybe a million and a half times.” The letters were entertaining, but they didn’t change his mind or cause him to reconsider. He had been very careful in making his decision, and once he made it he was firm.
Now Eli is doing what he has wanted to do for a long time—he is teaching and coaching in a local high school. Teachers aren’t famous for their high salaries, and sometimes the money is a little short. But Eli smiles about it: “The paychecks now, in spite of being low, are more than we were making when we were students. We’re happy to have more than we had before. Occasionally I think we could have a brand-new car or a nice house, but I have never had any serious doubts about the decision.”
He gathers his family around the room as he talks about the decision that has made such a difference in their lives. His daughter Hannah plays on the floor while his wife, Jennifer, holds the baby, Sarah. They don’t have the new house, car, and retirement fund, but they’re happy. Eli has come a long way from the boy who sometimes sneaked in to watch football on Sundays. Now he is a father who, like his own father and like Alma long ago, is determined to teach his children the commandments “as they are written” and to help them be covenant people of the Lord.

Even as I lay on my bed staring at the cobweb on the ceiling (my cobweb, because it was my turn to dust), I could think of two reasons why I should be happy. First, it was my birthday. At our house a birthday means a special dinner. The birthday celebrity picks the menu and sits at the head of the table. Dessert is a big homemade cake. Second, in just two and a half hours, my neighbor and good friend Scott would pick me up for the dance. It was my first date with him. For that matter, it was my first date with anybody. So why wasn’t I excited? So why wasn’t I jubilant? The reason was not a good one.
I turned my head and looked at the pictures on my wall. I call it my wall because my two sisters and I have shared the rest of the room in the attic for as long as I can remember. My bed is adjacent to the wall where the ceiling doesn’t slope. There, framed in velvet, are the pictures I have had copied of many of my relatives for generations back. I looked at my favorite, the picture of my grandmother Agatha Robertson, which was larger than the rest. I always like to look at Grandmother Agatha. She’s wearing a lace dress and her hair is piled high. Her eyes seem to be dark brown like mine, and although she isn’t smiling in the picture, I’m sure smiling is something she often did.
I had read her journal many times. Agatha Robertson, my mother’s great-great-grandmother, had been an only child and had been given beautiful things by her wealthy parents. Yet, she had grown lovely and serene and had done many benevolent acts in her lifetime, therefore disproving the theory that all only children of wealthy parents grow up to be selfish and spoiled. Later in life Agatha had married Captain Conrad Robertson, who adored her and brought her gifts from faraway lands. Unlike my pioneer grandmothers, unlike my grandmothers from Scotland and Holland, Agatha had lived a life of luxury. “I get to be Grandma Agatha!” I had often shouted when my sisters and I played dress-ups. Even then her picture had fascinated me.
Now, as I looked at her again, I envied the life she had led—so different from mine. I had to struggle just to buy the fabric to make a dress for myself. It was either sew or wear hand-me-downs, and I wasn’t much of a seamstress yet.
“Oh, Grandmother Agatha,” I said aloud, “you wouldn’t understand this because you always had the best before it wasn’t the best anymore. But, if I have to wear a hand-me-down to the dance tonight, I just won’t go. I won’t! It’s awful to be third girl!” Agatha Robertson’s expression didn’t change. But then, I hadn’t expected it to.
“Honestly, Janet, I wish you’d quit talking to your pictures.” The inside of me jumped. I hadn’t heard Joani climb the stairs, but there she was, standing in the doorway studying herself in the blue dress she was making. She turned sideways, then completely around, always keeping her eyes on the mirror.
“Well, it isn’t as bad as talking to yourself,” I said defending myself, “and I’ve heard you do that before. It’s pretty,” I added in a mumble, looking at her dress. It was beautiful. Joani was an expert. Maybe that was my trouble. I always tried to sew quickly and energetically like she did. Joani took some pins out of her mouth and smiled at me.
“Thanks,” she said, “I’m almost finished. You can have the machine back in just a few minutes.” She began hemming the sleeves with the pins. “Are you about finished with yours?”
“Uh-huh.” I didn’t tell her about the yellow dress because I knew what she would say. She would lecture me on beginning at the beginning and picking easier patterns. I was finished with the dress all right. It wasn’t a lie. It was hanging in my closet with at least four more hours of work to do on it. It didn’t fit right at all. The bodice was all wrong, and the sleeves were crooked. Now there wasn’t time to fix it, not with dinner and everything. That meant that tonight of all nights I’d have to wear a hand-me-down. And there was Joani—quick, clever little Joani—admiring herself in a beautiful creation she’d designed herself. I didn’t want to look at her, so I turned my head. Why should she care? She had her dress. Why should she care that I’d have to wear one of the ancient dresses in the basement? Why should anyone care? Erma, my oldest sister, obviously didn’t. She had taken all her bridesmaid dresses to college with her.
Joani headed back downstairs to the sewing room, a few pins still in her mouth, and I looked at Grandmother Agatha and sighed. Then I pulled myself off my bed and shuffled downstairs as if I were carrying a 300-pound pack on my back. Mother was bustling busily in the kitchen, preparing my birthday dinner. She smiled at me with an “Aren’t you elated it’s your birthday?” look on her face. “Your special dinner will be ready in about five minutes,” she said excitedly. “Go tell everyone.”
“Okay.” I began passing the word around. First, I called out back where Jack and Alex were playing. Then I called into the family-sewing room to Dad and Joani. In ten minutes we were all seated around the dining room table. Dad gave the prayer, and then Jack, Alex, and Joani each passed me a little gift. Alex gave me another bottle of “Forever Yours” cologne. He gave me that every year. Jack had made me a pencil holder out of a cutoff milk carton. Joani gave me a jeweled comb and brush set. I oohed and aahed and tried to act excited as I opened each of the gifts. Then Mom passed me the gift from her and Dad. Maybe I had hoped somewhere in the back of my mind that it would be a dress, a yellow dress, because I felt a tinge of disappointment when the package they sent me was too small. Besides, it rattled.
“Careful,” Mom said.
“Yes, careful,” Joani said. She was smiling widely.
“I wonder what this could be?”
“You might say it’s a hand-me-down from all of us.” Mom laughed.
“Oh?” I took off the yellow ribbon and opened the package carefully. Inside the box was … no, it couldn’t be … “Is this? It is! It’s Grandmother Agatha’s locket! But, Mom, I inherited this from Aunt Louise. She gave it to you!”
“Oh, I never wear falderal like lockets, and—”
“But, Erma’s the oldest. She should have it. Or Joani. I’m only third.” Joani smiled again.
“I asked them if it was all right and they insisted you have it,” Mother answered patiently. “Both said you knew Grandmother Robertson the best and deserved it.”
“But, …”
The phone rang and Alex jumped up. “I’ll get it! I hate mushy stuff like this.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you so much! I can’t wait to show Scott.” I laid the locket carefully by my plate on the tablecloth where I could look at it more closely. It was gold, with tiny roses, and inside, I knew, was the only picture we had of Captain Robertson. It was too small and faded to have it copied. On the back of the locket were the initials A.R.W.L. I guessed they stood for “Agatha Robertson, with love.”
Everyone had begun eating chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, and rolls, but I wasn’t hungry. I was too happy.
“It’s Erma,” Alex announced. “From Provo. She called to wish you a happy birthday.”
“Erma!” I jumped up and ran to the phone. “Erma, thanks. Thanks for the locket. I’m so excited! But, it should rightfully belong to you. You’re the oldest.”
“It’s yours,” Erma said. “You’re the one who deserves it. We all wanted you to have it. Besides, you can wear it tonight with your new yellow dress. How did it turn out?”
“I won’t be wearing the yellow dress. I didn’t get it finished, but I don’t mind. I’ll wear something from the basement. Anything will look beautiful with this locket.”
Erma was silent for a moment. “Oh, but it’s your first date. You just can’t. Why was I so stupid to take all my bridesmaid dresses with me? I just want to kick myself. If there was only time to drive home I would, I … hey! Wait! I did leave home my velvet skirt. Wear that. It’s in the sewing room and just needs the seam fixed. You’ll probably have to lengthen it, but it shouldn’t take you long. Find a pretty blouse, and you’ll look fantastic.”
“Hooray!” I said. “Thanks, Sis, thanks!”
After chocolate cake with lemon frosting and strawberry sherbet (all my favorites), I hurried to the sewing room and found the skirt in the closet. Joani followed me.
“What are you doing?”
“Erma said I could wear her skirt because I didn’t finish my yellow dress.”
Joani looked confused, then hurt. “You should have told me. Why didn’t you? I would have helped you finish it. We have to stick together, don’t we? It really upsets me you didn’t tell me.” Then she had an idea because her eyes grew wide and her lips parted into a smile. “Then the least you can do is wear my satin and lace blouse.”
I was stunned. “You’re kidding!” I knew the satin and lace blouse was her favorite, her best. She kept it in a special part of her drawer instead of the closet, wrapped in tissue paper. She only wore it on the most special occasions. “I couldn’t.”
“Please.”
“Joani, Joani, you don’t mean it, do you? Your satin and lace blouse? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Upstairs, Joani unwrapped her blouse with only the slightest hesitation and handed it to me. Then she went back downstairs.
I put the blouse on and stepped into the skirt even though I hadn’t fixed the seam yet. I wanted to get the effect first.
Even before I put the locket on, I knew the blouse was perfect to set it off. And it was. I looked up to see Grandmother Agatha looking at me with an earnest expression on her face. “Who would have guessed I’d be getting a hand-me-down from you for my birthday,” I said with a laugh. I think Agatha Robertson would have smiled in real life. Her eyes would have sparkled. But the picture’s expression didn’t change. Of course, I hadn’t expected it to.
I looked back at myself in Joani’s blouse and Erma’s skirt and the locket I had inherited because of their generosity and unselfishness, and yes, their love for me. I gulped.
I looked again at my perfectly groomed, elegant, great-great-grandmother who had had beautiful things, the finest clothes and jewels, but who had been an only child.
“Grandmother Agatha, you missed out. You really missed out. You just don’t know how wonderful … oh, you wouldn’t know what I mean.” But, even as I said the words, I guessed she knew what I was trying to say. With one last smile, I hurried downstairs. I had a lot to do before the dance.

It has been one year since I was baptized. During much of that year I have been in the hospital. Today I received the latest issue of the New Era, and in spite of extreme pain, turned through it. I want others to know how much of a blessing this magazine can be to those who are ill. It has been wonderful for me, as have the members of the ward who help to look after my needs.
Cheryl Ann TrumbullWilmington, Delaware

New Era: Besides the change in your life, has the gospel had an influence on your baseball career?
Brother Killibrew: Yes, in many ways. One of the most dramatic was demonstrated when I ruptured the hamstring muscle in my left leg in an all-star game. There was a real question as to whether I would ever play again. I was using crutches. Two bearers of the priesthood administered to me. After that I no longer needed the crutches, and my leg healed up very nicely. The next year was the year I got the Most Valuable Player award.

The story of Sukiman Abraham, who serves as Clementi Branch mission leader, gives us an idea of the challenges unique to Singapore. Sukiman belonged to a non-Christian religion. His parents, who were born in Indonesia, moved to Singapore before World War II. When young, Sukiman attended religious services with his parents and studied his religion.
Although his parents were devout, they allowed Sukiman to attend a school taught by Latter-day Saints. One Saturday, he was playing basketball with some Latter-day Saint players, who invited him to church. He attended the next day. He says, “I learned a little about the restored gospel and received a copy of the Book of Mormon. I started to read it on the way home. I began to take several lessons a week. My father scolded me and threw away my copies of the scriptures. My mother asked me to take some time. After one month, I decided to be baptized.”
Sukiman’s parents asked him to leave. For two months he had no home, until he joined the armed forces. After a while, his parents reconsidered, and his mother asked him to come home. He completed his military service, then worked in shipping. In 1982, his father died. “On his death bed,” Sukiman remembers, “he asked me to take care of my mother, though I was Christian. I became the main support for her and the rest of the family. I wanted to serve a mission, but in my parents’ faith, leaving one’s mother is unfilial. One night in 1985, the answer came to my prayer: ‘Just go, and I will take care of her.’ So I went. The Lord did provide for my family. They were all right when I got back.”
“My mother and I are at peace, and she visits me often. She knows that the gospel has made me a better man and a more obedient son.”

Six-year-old John sat intently listening in Primary as two missionaries talked to the children about missionary work. They explained that Jesus Christ wants every member of the Church to tell people about His true Church.
The missionaries told the children that they were not too young to be missionaries. They could give a copy of the Book of Mormon to relatives or friends who didn’t belong to the Church. And they could also invite them to church or ask them if they would like to have the missionaries teach them about the gospel.
The missionaries asked the children to think of someone they would like to tell about the true Church. Then they challenged the children to talk to that person about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that week.
John knew exactly whom he wanted to tell about the Church. He loved Grandma Linford very much and wanted her to know about Jesus Christ’s true Church. Grandma did go to church, but not to the church that John and his family went to. He thought carefully about how to ask Grandma to come to church with him.
A few days later, John and his family drove to Grandma’s house. Grandma greeted John and his two sisters, Rachel and Rebecca, with hugs. Soon everyone was busy talking and helping get dinner ready. John couldn’t wait until after dinner to ask his question; it was too important. He whispered to Grandma: “Could I talk to you alone for a minute? I have a very important question to ask you.”
Wiping her hands and looking deep into John’s eyes, she said: “Of course. Let’s go into the living room.”
As Grandma sat down, John’s heart started pounding. Would Grandma listen to his question? Would she come to church with him? He was trying to do what the missionaries had suggested. He had to be brave enough to tell others about Jesus Christ.
“Grandma, will you come to my church sometime?” John asked.
“Well, Sundays are pretty busy days for Grandpa and me, but we’d be happy to go to your church with you,” Grandma said.
“That’s great,” John said. “We belong to the true Church and I want you and Grandpa to belong to the true Church too. We have a prophet and the Book of Mormon and CTR rings.”
Suddenly, John thought he had said too much because Grandma got tears in her eyes. Then she hugged John, kissed him on the cheek, and thanked him for telling her about his Church and inviting her to come. Before Grandma could get another word out, John asked her if she would read the Book of Mormon and listen to the missionaries.
“You are the best missionary ever,” Grandma said. “I love you so much!” Then she hugged him again. Grandma asked John what ward he went to. John said the Third Ward. Grandma said that she and Grandpa went to the 11th Ward. Grandma asked John what church he belonged to. He said, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” Grandma said that she and Grandpa belonged to that same church too. John looked confused. Grandma explained that there are thousands of wards all around the world and each one is part of Jesus’s true Church. Not all of Jesus’s followers could fit in one building, but they could all learn His true teachings in a ward where they live. She told John that after dinner they could drive to see the sign in front of her ward building that said “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” It looked just like the sign at John’s ward building.
John hugged Grandma and said, “Oh, Grandma, I’m so thankful that we are both members of Jesus’s true Church!”

When I returned home to the southern Philippines in 2016 after serving an honorable mission in the northern Philippines, I was looking forward to attending Brigham Young University–Hawaii and experiencing all the other adventures awaiting young adults.
Suddenly, however, I started losing weight. My doctor diagnosed hyperthyroidism. She scared me with the implications if the disease went untreated.
Despite treatment, my body began to change. My eyes started to bulge, and I became very skinny. I avoided having my picture taken and even looking in the mirror because of my appearance.
Medication slowly began to help. But three years later, I was diagnosed with a second malady—a depressive disorder. These two sicknesses robbed me of self-confidence. I struggled to get out of bed to attend school, and I felt incapable of serving in the Church.
I was angry that God had allowed this to happen. I wondered why I should serve with all my heart and soul if doing so just brought trials? I took comfort, however, from these words by President Jeffrey R. Holland, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “Broken minds can be healed just the way broken bones and broken hearts are healed.” I cried when I heard those words. I had a broken mind that needed healing.
I was raised in a faithful home, and my faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ remained intact despite the pain and uncertainty. Gradually, I accepted and adapted to my new circumstances.
Now, eight years later, I am no longer slowed by my maladies. I accept them as a part of life. I feel whole. I can serve and live life fully, though health challenges may continue my whole life. I’ve learned that patiently enduring is part of mortality (see Doctrine and Covenants 121:7–8). I’m learning to drink my bitter cup and remain strong.
I now work in the personnel department of an artificial intelligence company and take online classes at night from Brigham Young University–Pathway Worldwide. I’ve stopped asking “Why me?” and have started asking “What I can learn? How can I benefit from this experience?”
Looking back, I see that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were with me all the way. Going forward, I know in whom I can trust (see Proverbs 3:5–6; 2 Nephi 4:34).

On a rare break from working on our family farm in southern Idaho, my brother, several of his friends, and I went to a motorcycle park outside of Boise, Idaho. We rode up and down the backcountry on our motorcycle for hours, having a lot of fun. It was a wonderful break from the rigors of our busy summer.
One of my brother’s friends had a four-wheeler. At the time, four-wheelers were very expensive, so there were very few of them on the trails. Knowing this was a rare opportunity to ride one, I asked the owner if I could take it for a short ride. He kindly said, “You bet!”
Because we had been taking a short break to eat and have a drink of water, I did not have my helmet on when I asked him if I could ride the four-wheeler, so when he said yes, I excitedly climbed onto it without much thought for safety. I pulled the rip-cord ignition and felt the engine come alive beneath me. I was so excited; this was my first ride on a four-wheeler!
It soon turned into a first for me in learning a lesson I had not anticipated that day. I put the four-wheeler into gear, and it lurched forward as if it were just as excited to have me ride it as I was to be on it. Just as it went forward I heard a voice say to me very clearly, “Put your helmet on.” I thought the voice was my brother or maybe one of his friends. I turned and looked at them, but they were all facing away, sitting on the tailgate of our pickup, talking and laughing, paying no attention to me.
I stopped the four-wheeler, got off, and put on my helmet. I thought very little of the voice and its directions until a short time later. Once I was back on the four-wheeler, with my helmet on, I rode up a ravine to access the trails. I had a blast! It was so much fun. After about 10 minutes I began the descent back down the ravine to my brother and his friends.
On my way down I neglected to pay attention to the ruts carved into the trail from motorcycles that had ridden on it after a rainstorm. Unfortunately, the four-wheeler’s right front tire settled into a rut, which made a 45-degree turn to the left of the trail in front of me. Before I could apply the brakes, the four-wheeler pulled hard to the left, but I did not. I flew over the handlebars and landed several feet down the trail. I landed directly on top of my head.
Fortunately, I had not been moving at a very high speed, so the impact was not very painful, nor did I hurt myself in any way. As the four-wheeler sat just off the trail, idling quietly, I pulled my helmet off to inspect the damage. I noticed the top of the helmet was scratched and damaged severely from the impact on the hard trail. In an instant I remembered the voice that had said, “Put your helmet on,” and I uttered a quiet prayer of gratitude to my Heavenly Father.
It has been very rare for me to actually hear a voice prompt me, but on that day a voice protected and preserved me. I know it was the Holy Ghost. I do not know why I was preserved from the harm and pain I might have experienced, but one thing I do know: our Heavenly Father lives and is mindful of all of His children. I know God loves us. I know He loves me. I am deeply grateful for the gift of the Holy Ghost and its protective promptings.

Illustration by Merrilee Liddiard
I awoke early one morning to get ready for work. While I usually love my job as a teacher, I was out of sorts and just wanted to crawl back under the covers and pretend it was bedtime again.
When I arrived at the high school, I tried to get my mind ready for work. I knew I needed to teach a math class soon, but my heart and head both felt dull and depressed. My emotions were all negative.
I decided to visit the restroom before class. Every once in a while, someone will post fliers in the restrooms with information for students and staff. Out of the corner of my eye, a flier caught my attention. It had a nice quote on it that read, “If you want to give a light to others, you have to glow yourself.”1 I was surprised to see that this quote came from President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018).
I didn’t expect to see a quote from a prophet of God on the walls of the school. I live in a small town in Pennsylvania, USA, and I’m sure I’m one of a few, or possibly the only, member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the school. I knew I was one of a few who would understand the importance of the words of President Monson—a man I had sustained for many years as the prophet. I felt that this message was meant for me. It softened my heart and lifted my mood. Gratitude for my testimony filled my heart, and Heavenly Father’s love surrounded me.
I wanted to pull the flier off the wall and keep it in my pocket all day to uplift me, but I had a quick realization. President Monson wasn’t just the prophet for me and other members of the Church—he was the prophet for the world. His words, like the words of President Russell M. Nelson today, are for everyone. A prophet’s words help and uplift all who will hear them. I took a picture of the quote with my phone and left the flier up for anyone else who might need it.
I’m grateful Heavenly Father put this message in my path. I want to give light to others. Through obedience and a closeness with our Savior, I can glow even on days when darkness would have me lose my way.

There’s a certain surfer in southern California who’s giving the sport a loftier reputation. His name is Jimmy Zimmerman, and it’s well known that this surf team captain is an active priest in the Huntington Beach Fourth Ward.
Jimmy’s coach, quoted in the Los Angeles Times, said that “Zimmerman symbolizes surfing’s future. He’s popular, intelligent, and he’s a young man who doesn’t drink alcohol or smoke.”
Jimmy manages to fit in surf practice every morning at 6:15, after early-morning seminary. But that doesn’t make him too tired to get top grades in honors classes, be elected Homecoming king, and to teach the gospel to his friends. He recently had the privilege of baptizing one of them.

One day my companion and I were teaching a couple, and we told them that the Father and the Son had appeared to Joseph Smith in answer to his prayer. The man said that no one could see God. Immediately the alarm on my watch went off, letting us know that we needed to head home. We left their home that day without answering that statement.
The next day I read a scripture in the Bible that says, “If there be a prophet among you, I the Lord will make myself known unto him in a vision” (Numbers 12:6). I knew this scripture would help this brother believe.
The time of the next visit arrived, and we spoke about prophets. I showed him this scripture, and his countenance changed. His eyes filled with tears, and he said, “This is true. There are people prepared to see God.” Later we taught him about Book of Mormon prophets who have seen God, and he knew it was true.
Elder Diaz, 25, Mexico Mérida Mission

When I was a young man, my home was on Long Island about 30 miles from New York City. My father had a large yard with hedges, rock gardens, a fish pool, a vegetable garden, lawns, and trees. They all required regular care. There were always chores, like cutting the lawn in the summer and raking leaves in the autumn.
I thought we worked pretty hard taking care of our yard, but one day my father said to me, “You’re never going to learn how to work until you go out and work on the ranch with your Uncle Frank.” So I spent that summer in Skull Valley near Tooele, Utah, learning how to work.
I had grown up near a large city. Ranch life was an education for me. I was impressed to see the cattle and the horses and the hard work necessary to bring about the harvest. I can remember the feelings when I first realized that an enormous amount of preparation was necessary before the crops were brought in. We had to plow, harrow, plant, cultivate, weed, irrigate, and then continue to cultivate, weed, and irrigate, endlessly it seemed. That summer is a cherished part of my heritage because it was there, in this almost desolate, remote corner of the world, that I learned the law of the harvest.

La Verne California Stake
As the 100th birthday of the El Buen Pastor Church in Pomona, California, approached, the congregation had concerns about the state of its building and premises. Looking for a chance to help a neighbor, the youth of the La Verne California Stake decided to pitch in and spruce up the church for its celebration. El Buen supplied the paint and the LDS youth came with a willing attitude, painting the church’s exterior in only four hours. The youth tore out old carpet, sanded and repainted the pews, and landscaped the grounds. Many members of the El Buen Pastor Church were touched by the service, and one parishioner, a member of the Pastor Church for more than 60 years, said she was so grateful to the LDS youth who restored their church to its former beauty.

As I think of home teaching, I am reminded of a man by the name of Johann Denndorfer from Debrecen, Hungary. He had been converted to the Church years before in Germany, and now, following World War II, he found himself virtually a prisoner in his own land of Hungary. How he longed for contact with the Church. Then his home teachers visited. Brother Walter Krause and his companion went from the northeastern portion of Germany all the way to Hungary to fulfill their home teaching assignment. Before they left from their homes in Germany, Brother Krause had said to his companion, “Would you like to go home teaching with me this week?”
His companion asked, “When will we leave?”
Brother Krause’s response: “Tomorrow.”
Then came the question, “When will we come back?”
Brother Krause did not hesitate; he said, “Oh, in about a week.”
And away they went to visit Brother Denndorfer and others. Brother Denndorfer had not had home teachers since before the war. Now, when he saw the servants of the Lord, he was overwhelmed. He did not shake hands with them; rather, he went to his bedroom and took from a secret hiding place his tithing that he had saved for years. This tithing he gave to his home teachers, and then he said, “Now I can shake your hands.”