Gospel Story Finder

I read this wonderful story about an experience President Howard W. Hunter (1907–1995) had in a small store in California. He paid the clerk 10 pennies for 10 pieces of liquorice. Upon counting the pieces later on, he realised that he had ended up with 11 pieces instead of the 10 that he paid for. While he could have overlooked the error—after all, it was just a penny, and who would know the difference—he didn’t think twice and went back to the store. He explained the problem to the clerk, apologised and paid for the extra piece of liquorice, much to the surprise of the clerk3.

Shortly after Edward was born, Mary Ann moved with her children to Salt Lake City and took work as a midwife, cook, and cleaning woman. Since her meager income could not support the needs of her family, Edward left school when he was twelve and went to work on the night shift at the Salt Lake Tribune.
A few months later Mary Ann had saved five dollars from Edward’s earnings for tithing. “Eddy,” she told him, “I have not paid your tithing yet. I know that you have no overcoat, and you must walk many miles to and from work each might. With winter coming on, it’s going to be bitter cold when you return home at four or five o’clock in the morning. So I’ll give you this money, and you can either pay your tithing or buy an overcoat. I’ll leave the decision up to you.”
He did exactly what she knew he’d do. Edward later recorded, “I took the money, ran immediately over to the bishop’s home, and paid the tithing.”
A week later his Aunt Mary came to visit, and brought with her an overcoat that one of her sons had outgrown. It fit Edward perfectly and “was a better overcoat than [he] could have purchased for five dollars.” After that day, Edward recorded, he was always generous in paying his tithes and other Church offerings.

When I would attempt to walk half a block in my neighborhood, I often experienced shortness of breath, light-headedness, and joint pain. I had been a runner previous to contracting the virus, and now I could only walk slowly. Many times I would fall on my knees to pray that I could get up and feel up. The fatigue got worse every time I tried to get up and do too much. One day I got up and my back went out. I fell to the floor in tears and pain. I cried out to Heavenly Father, “I can’t take it anymore!” He knew I was down and helped me up once again. I would often tell myself, “Just hold on.” There was not much else I could do. By choosing to hold on to hope in Christ and continually calling upon the Lord, I was able to press on.

First Reader: We have invited [name] to take the part of William Clayton in recreating a scene from pioneer history.
Brother Clayton is sitting by a campfire somewhere in lowa, but a large share of his heart is back in Nauvoo with his wife, Diantha, who had to remain behind. It is late at night on Wednesday, April 15, 1846 …
William Clayton: Ah, [Yawns] this has been a long day for me, but I cannot sleep tonight until I finish writing in my journal. Let’s see, have I forgotten anything?
[Reads from journal] “Last night I got up to watch, there being no guard. The cattle and horses [were] breaking into the tents and wagons. … This morning Ellen Kimball came to me and wishes me much joy. She said Diantha [my wife] has a son. I told her I was afraid it was not so, but she said Brother Pond had received a letter. I went over to Pond’s and he read that she had a fine fat boy on the 30th … , but she was very sick with ague and mumps. Truly I feel to rejoice … but feel sorry to hear of her sickness. … In the evening the band played. … We had a very pleasant time playing and singing until about twelve o’clock. … This morning I composed [the words to] a new song—‘All is well.’ [Plays “Come, Come, Ye Saints” on violin or reads first verse] I feel to thank my heavenly father for my boy and pray that he will spare and preserve his life and that of his mother and so order it that we may soon meet again.” [Kneels and bows head]
Second Reader: The words of “All Is Well,” written to an English melody, gave encouragement to the pioneers. Soon it became almost a theme song. It was decided in the camps that when anyone started singing it, everyone would join in.

My parents often attended meetings after church, and I would watch my three younger brothers and help them make lunch—though they were often short-tempered and hungry. Usually if they started fighting, I could solve the small problem quickly. But sometimes it was hard to make peace once a fight had started because I’d get agitated.
One afternoon, my brothers were having an especially hard time getting along. I found that my efforts to make peace only made things worse because I was upset. So I just made my own lunch and stopped talking. Finally, I announced, “I’m going to pray. Can we please be quiet for a minute?” Once they settled down, I asked for a blessing on the food. Before I closed the prayer, I added, “And please help us to be peacemakers.”
At first, they seemed not to hear and began fighting again. I was annoyed but knew I needed to be as loving and calm as I could be because I’d just prayed for peace. After a minute, I felt very calm. I ate without saying anything, and the boys eventually stopped fighting. I realized the peace I felt was an answer to a simple prayer. I had prayed to be a peacemaker, and my Heavenly Father had helped me stay calm when it was so tempting to yell. I know that He can truly give us peace.

Photographs courtesy of Kayleena N.
Kayleena N., 17, of Washington, USA, loves testimonies. She loves bearing her testimony, she loves listening as others share them, and now the testimonies from nearly 200 of her friends and relatives help keep her warm at night. “I feel really blessed that I know so many people who know the gospel is true,” Kayleena says.
For years, Kayleena has wanted to create a large patchwork quilt. However, she didn’t want merely a colorful blanket. She wanted an heirloom she could show to her children and grandchildren. And she wanted the whole thing tied together with testimonies.
After planning her design, Kayleena contacted friends and family to ask if they’d be willing to write their personal testimony on one of the 192 pastel squares of fabric she planned to use in the quilt. Her own testimony is on a square as well.
The final quilt required the help of many friends and over 200 hours of work. Yet she doesn’t regret a single minute. “It’s my favorite thing ever,” Kayleena says. “Anytime I’m not feeling happy, I can read the testimonies and it lifts me up. It’s more than a warm blanket. It’s a comfort to my soul.”

Our next visit to Queenstown included stops at the Sada and Cimezile branches.
Church members at Sada met in a school building similar to the one at Ilinge, except that the floor is of pine strips. President Headman Gquola greeted us with his beaming smile as we arrived. Once again, each member of the sixty-strong branch stood in line, awaiting their turn to greet us eagerly with a handshake.
In these branches we use translators because the majority of the Saints can not understand English any more than we can understand their native Xhosa. (This handicap is being overcome, as high council members have been instructed by the stake president to learn that language.) The singing in these branches is a delightful experience. One has to hear the unique harmony and volume of their singing to appreciate fully the joy of their pure, resonant voices.
After a most uplifting meeting with the Sada Saints, we traveled to Cimezile on a winding gravel road. One has to be constantly alert to hazards such as wandering sheep and goats on these roads, as well as the perils of crossing rocky river beds; on one occasion, the muffler was ripped from the exhaust system of my car.
In Cimezile I met one of the most spiritual families that I have ever known, Wilson and Judith Nqunqa and their eight children. Brother Nqunqa had done the high-quality stone work of the outer walls of their typical rondavel African home. Pictures of the Church president and General Authorities and posters with the words to our hymns line the walls of their spotlessly clean home.
Brother Raubenheimer remarked that in their humble home, where even the children spoke in soft tones, the reverence and spirit we experienced was as it might have been in the house of the Lord.
Shortly after those early visits, Brother Raubenheimer was called as bishop of the East London Ward, and my family and I moved to Queenstown. With the aid of the missionaries in Queenstown and my family members, I visited each of the outlying branches on a weekly basis for a time, rather than the previous monthly visits.
This continued successfully until violence flared up in the parts of Queenstown inhabited by blacks. Church meetings became disrupted as violence increased. Part of the Sada school was burned, so members were left without a meetinghouse. For safety reasons, missionaries were recalled and visits to the troubled areas only took place as prompted by the Spirit of the Lord.
On one such visit, I traveled with my son Richard to Sada to find that all of the brethren in the branch, along with all the other men in the area, had been forced to attend a political meeting. But we were able to offer some spiritual encouragement to the sisters. We also administered to a sister who had been suffering from severe headaches.
Cimezile was our next destination; we visited Brother Nqunqa, who told us a group of local youths had terrorized several families the night before, breaking into their homes and beating them. The Nqunqa family had knelt in prayer and sought the Lord’s protection. When dawn came that Sabbath day, their home was undisturbed.
On a later visit to Cimezile, Richard and I found Brother Nqunqa very ill. We blessed and passed the sacrament—but not until after he had risen and dressed himself, insisting that he had to have his jacket and tie on to show proper reverence for the sacrament. He wept as he told us that he knew Richard and I would come that Sunday and that the Spirit had witnessed to him all would be well. Before we left, Richard and I blessed Brother Nqunqa through the power of the priesthood.
The next day, I went to Brother Nqunqa’s home to see how he was feeling. His wife, Judith, assured me he had been completely healed—he was down in the fields, attending to his plowing.
One Sunday I felt uncomfortable about going to meet with the members in Sada. I told my wife that I felt I would be letting them down if I did not go. “Ernie,” she replied, “if the Spirit is prompting you not to go, then you must listen to that warning.” I did—and my next visit to Sada proved the wisdom of her counsel. Had I visited that Sunday, I would have been caught up in a riot. Police used tear gas to break up an angry mob, and the Saints were forced to scatter when the gas drifted into the meetinghouse.
The government of the Transkei was able to restore a measure of peace, and regular visits to the Ilinge Branch continued. There was violence, however, in the Queenstown and Ciskei areas. Attendance at sacrament meetings in Sada declined rapidly.
Once again, I felt prompted not to travel to Sada for Sunday meetings. This time I heeded the warning without question. President Gquola told me later how fervently the members in Sada had prayed I would not keep my appointment that day. A group of men, convinced that President Gquola was an informer and I was a government spy, had been waiting to deal with me.
Sadly, I recommended that the stake president close the Sada area until the unrest abated. This was done, and the branch remained unvisited for the next four months. When Brother Brian Schimper and I returned to Sada in order to determine conditions there, we found that the members had weathered the four months well.
It has been a privilege to be associated with the members of the Ilinge, Cimezile, and Sada branches, as well as those of Queenstown, and the faithful missionaries who have given of themselves so freely. They have helped me gain a testimony of the great work that has yet to be accomplished as we labor to share the gospel with the people of Africa.

But Miguel also does much service on his own. When someone in his family is sick, the first thing Miguel does is pray to Heavenly Father to bless him or her. Then he does all he can to help. When his sister Melissa (14) was very ill, he carried things back and forth for her. When his father was sick and was given a priesthood blessing, Miguel listened carefully. Then he leaned his head against his father’s shoulder, gave him a hug, and said, “Papi, you are going to get better.”

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

Sylvia Sierra found herself in the middle of a divorce in October 1981. “I began to ask myself many questions: ‘Why am I here?’ ‘What else is there?’ I wanted something more, so I began to read the Bible. I found great hope when I read, ‘The God of heaven [shall] set up a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed. … A stone … cut out without hands … filled the whole earth’ (Dan. 2:44, 34–35).
“I cried when I read this scripture. I thought if I could only find that ‘stone,’ I would find the answers to my questions. But after nearly two years, I stopped looking for it, though I never gave up hope.”
Shortly after that, Sylvia attended church with A Latter-day Saint Friend. “When I entered the chapel, I realized immediately that I had never felt anything as great as what I was then feeling. In Relief Society, we saw a video called Together Forever. I heard a voice within me say, ‘This is what you are looking for.’”
Sylvia was soon baptized, and the following year she received her endowment in the Washington Temple. “For the first time I recognized that the Lord has great blessings for me,” she says. “The temple is everything. I continually yearn for those blessings and to return to the temple.”
Temple attendance has become the focus of Sister Sierra’s life, now a member of the Guaynabo Branch. She works three jobs cleaning homes, and she sells food at a roadside stand to earn money to go to the temple. “I work hard, but it is not a burden,” she says. “It is relaxing to know I am working to go to the temple. There is no prize like the blessings of the temple.”
When Sister Sierra returned from her first trip to the temple, she read D&C 65:2 during her regular scripture study: “The keys of the kingdom of God are committed unto man on the earth, and from thence shall the gospel roll forth unto the ends of the earth, as the stone which is cut out of the mountain without hands shall roll forth, until it has filled the whole earth.”
“I got a knot in my throat and cried as I realized that the gospel is the stone that I had read about in the Bible,” she says. “I had found the stone when I was baptized without even realizing it. I am so grateful to my Redeemer. I know that he lives, and one day I will see him face to face.”

The spiritual richness of our meetings seems to have little to do with the buildings or country in which we meet. Many years ago we went to Manaus, Brazil, a city far upstream on the Amazon River, surrounded by jungle, to meet with the missionaries and the handful of Saints who were then in that area. We met in a very humble home with no glass panes in the windows. The weather was excessively hot. The children sat on the floor. The mission president, President Helio da Rocha Camargo, conducted the meeting and called on a faithful brother to give the opening prayer. The humble man responded, “I will be happy to pray, but may I also bear my testimony?” A sister was asked to lead the singing. She responded, “I would love to lead the singing, but please let me also bear my testimony.”

And so it was all through the meeting with those who participated in any way. All felt impelled to bear their profound witness of the Savior and his mission and of the restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. All who were there reached deep down in their souls to their spiritual taproots, remembering the Savior’s words that “where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” This they did more as heirs to the kingdom of God than as Brazilian members of the Church.

Chris Obzansky played ice hockey for three years before he decided it just wasn’t for him. When he was nine, he traded his hockey skates for figure skates and pushed off on a path that has led him to a successful career as an ice dancer. But it hasn’t all been smooth gliding.
“I got really determined to learn on those figure skates,” he says. “But I just kept stumbling on those toe picks!” Despite the difficulties, he found that ice dancing was what he really wanted to do. And besides, “I thought it was pretty cool to be skating with a girl instead of with a team of smelly hockey players,” Chris says, laughing.
He had big dreams. He and his partner had placed second at the junior level United States nationals, third at U.S. nationals, and first in an international competition in China. His plan was to compete in the 2006 Winter Olympics and then go on a mission after he turned 21. But when he was 18, just when everything was going smoothly, he ran into a snag.
“I wasn’t really enjoying it, and I was having a hard time with the sport,” he remembers. “I was just trying to push through it, and I could not do it anymore. I said, ‘Lord, what do I do?’”
Chris got the first part of his answer when he went to talk to his bishop, who encouraged him to pray about his plan to delay his mission. “His advice kind of went in one ear and out the other,” Chris admits. “But my life got to the point where I really did have to ask, and I really did have to listen.”
The second part of Chris’s answer came during a sacrament meeting. As he listened to his Young Men president talk about his own mission call, the Spirit told him, “‘Chris, you need to serve a mission when you’re 19, or you’re going to have a tough life.’ The message was so clear I actually turned around to see if someone was there,” he says. “The feeling came back 10 times stronger, and I knew I had to go on a mission.”
That night Chris called his partner and coaches to give them the news. When he had first started training with them, he told them that a mission was a possibility. But none of them had expected him to go—at least not yet. Although they were disappointed, Chris says, “They’ve been very supportive of me and my mission, and I give them credit for that.”
Chris feels peace about his decision and where his life is going. “I’m grateful Heavenly Father gave me that prompting,” he says. “But it’s been really hard since then. Satan tried to bring me down in any way possible.”
To combat the fears and temptations, Chris read the scriptures and prayed the way he used to dedicate himself to practicing at the ice rinks in Delaware, where he lived while he trained. He studied the scriptures at least twice a day, and he set aside time to pray earnestly at least three times a day. “That really protected me,” he says. He also credits much of his help to surrounding himself with good friends and family when he came back home to the Thirteenth Ward of the Salt Lake Central Stake.
There are lots of rules in ice dancing—lots of required and restricted moves. To succeed takes a lot of creativity and dancing talent. Chris thinks his experiences with ice dancing will help him on his mission—experiences like learning to get along with a partner, following strict rules, and being dedicated to something every day for a long time.
His call to the Baltic States Mission, Russian speaking, was exciting for Chris, especially since he knows speaking Russian will help him if he still wants to return to ice dancing after his mission. (Many of the competitors and coaches speak Russian.) He also wants to be a coach eventually. But for now, he says, “I just want to try to bring people to a knowledge of the gospel.”
Being prompted to go on a mission wasn’t the first time Chris asked for and received the Lord’s guidance in his life. He was 16, had just split from a skating partner, and was having a hard time. “My dad gave me a blessing, and he told me the Spirit would be with me and would comfort me,” he says.
After the blessing, Chris was prompted to read D&C 58. Verses two through seven have made a big difference in his life. “I thought they were written exactly for me,” he says. “Everything in those verses has come to pass in my life and is still coming to pass. Those verses have given me so much comfort.”
Trying to obey the counsel he received in D&C 58, Chris is serving a mission when the Lord asked him to, and he is ready to bear testimony of the Savior and the gospel in the Baltic states. He knows he will have more difficulties than toe picks and changing partners there, but he also knows that when he asks for guidance, the Lord will answer.

A few years ago my older sister passed away. She had a challenging life. She struggled with the gospel and was never really active. Her husband abandoned their marriage and left her with four young children to raise. On the evening of her passing, in a room with her children present, I gave her a blessing to peacefully return home. At that moment I realized I had too often defined my sister’s life in terms of her trials and inactivity. As I placed my hands on her head that evening, I received a severe rebuke from the Spirit. I was made acutely aware of her goodness and allowed to see her as God saw her—not as someone who struggled with the gospel and life but as someone who had to deal with difficult issues I did not have. I saw her as a magnificent mother who, despite great obstacles, had raised four beautiful, amazing children. I saw her as the friend to our mother who took time to watch over and be a companion to her after our father passed away.

During that final evening with my sister, I believe God was asking me, “Can’t you see that everyone around you is a sacred being?”

From the Spirit’s rebuke at my sister’s bedside, I learned a great lesson: that as we see as He sees, ours will be a double victory—redemption of those we touch and redemption of ourselves.

My parents did not have a loving marriage. My mom, striving and resilient, tried to make the relationship work for her children’s sakes, but when it became physically dangerous for us to remain with him, she decided to free herself from the 16-year marriage that had drained so much life from her.
Before their divorce, I had been unaware that their marriage wasn’t a loving one, although I did have moments of doubt. There were several incidents where I witnessed the lack of love between my parents, but I didn’t start recognizing them for what they were until years later. Now I look back and can see that even though my parents tried to make the marriage work, they didn’t like each other—they tolerated each other.
After the divorce, I realized I couldn’t use my parents’ marriage as a model for my own future marriage. For a while I didn’t know what a strong, happy marriage looked like. Then, a few years after my parents’ divorce, I started noticing the big differences between their marriage and marriages in which the spouses truly loved and liked each other.
To counterbalance the negativity of my parents’ marriage, Heavenly Father has blessed me with an abundance of “power couples” in my extended family—aunts and uncles and grandparents who have very strong marriages. Whenever I’m at family gatherings or visiting relatives, I watch these couples closely, noting things they do or have that I want in my own future marriage. One uncle easily and habitually slips his arm around his wife’s shoulders and jokes with her in whispers. An aunt always takes time out of her busy schedule to talk with her husband when he gets home from work. And another couple does almost everything together.
There’s romantic love: sweet kisses (often in public), affectionate nicknames, and holding hands. But there’s also deep friendship: humble apologies, good-natured laughter, and impressive teamwork. They understand that, as Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles explained, “the first element of divine love … is its kindness, its selfless quality, its lack of ego and vanity and consuming self-centeredness.”1 These friendships have developed over time as both spouses continually live the principles of the gospel—treating each other with Christlike kindness and respect. They seem to live President Russell M. Nelson’s counsel that “marriages would be happier if nurtured more carefully.”2 Through these fantastic examples of friendship-based marriages, I have seen that liking my future husband will be as important as loving him.
Here are some things I’ve observed spouses doing when they like as well as love each other:
They want to spend more time with each other than with other people.
They feel comfortable doing or talking about anything with each other.
They work toward the same goals.
They find the middle ground often, but they also are willing to yield to each other when they see that the other spouse needs it.
They aren’t afraid to be openly affectionate with each other.
They listen attentively to each other.
They make time for each other.
They work together.
They have fun together.
They read the scriptures and pray together.
They go to the temple together.
They see each other as blessings (see 1 Nephi 16:7–8).
These are ideal aspects of marriage, of course. And as Elder Robert D. Hales (1932–2017) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said, “None of us marry perfection; we marry potential.”3 I have certainly seen disagreements and misunderstandings in my relatives’ marriages. But the strong couples are always able to work through their problems and become better together. Even when they don’t see eye to eye on something, they’re still best friends. Their marriage is the most important thing to them after their relationship with God.
Holding on to my grandmother’s statement that she “really likes” my grandfather, I continue to search for someone I can share that kind of deep, loving friendship with. And I strive to become the kind of person that someone would want to be best friends with.
Attraction and romance are definitely important, but the most common factor I see in strong marriages is deep friendship. I can now say for certain that a marriage built on friendship—which is, in turn, built on the gospel of Jesus Christ—is the most likely to last for eternity.

In 1960 I met a young man at a party who told me that Jesus Christ had visited the Americas after His Resurrection. I found the idea incredible and wanted to know more, so I began searching in libraries and inquiring of the various religious denominations in my hometown of San Miguel, El Salvador.
I searched for almost three years but found nothing. When I mentioned to various religious leaders that I had heard of Christ’s coming to the Americas, they told me I had been deceived. Because my search turned up no information, I eventually came to believe they were right.
One day two missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints came to my home and said they had an important message for my family. I immediately remembered my previous inquiries and asked them, “Do you know if Jesus Christ came to the Americas?”
One of the young men said, “We bear witness of that.”
At that moment I felt a great excitement in my mind and heart, and I asked, “How do you know that?”
He took a book out of his bag and said, “We know Christ came here because of this book, the Book of Mormon.”
What the missionaries taught me during that first discussion troubled me, and I doubted the account of the Prophet Joseph Smith’s vision of the Father and the Son. However, the Book of Mormon intrigued me, and the missionaries kept teaching me the lessons.
One afternoon, the elders asked me, “Have you prayed to find out if what we are teaching you is true?”
I told them I had done so but had not obtained an answer.
“You must pray with real intent,” they said.
I had been reading the Book of Mormon for several nights and had read about and believed in Jesus Christ’s appearance to the Nephites, but I still could not accept Joseph Smith’s vision. My internal struggle was terrible.
One night I knelt alone and opened my heart to God. I told Him that I needed to know if He had really manifested Himself to Joseph Smith. If He had, I promised Him I would be baptized into the Church and serve Him all my life.
When I arose early the next morning, the answer came to me through the Holy Ghost. My mind cleared, and my heart filled with peace. From that moment on, I have had no doubts whatsoever that Joseph Smith truly was a prophet of God, that the Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ, and that Jesus Christ is our Savior and Redeemer.
I know that Christ came to the Americas after His Resurrection. My soul delights in this marvelous knowledge, taught to me with certainty by the power of the Holy Ghost.

It’s a typically humid day in Jogjakarta, Indonesia, and sweat drips from Agung’s brow as he awaits his opponent’s serve. The badminton match is close, and the 15-year-old feels driven to win.
After a furious exchange, his opponent puts the shuttlecock hopelessly out of Agung’s reach. Unwilling to give up the point in such a close match, Agung dives for the shuttlecock but comes up short—and bleeding from sliding across the cement court.
It’s easy to see that he loves competitive badminton. But Agung doesn’t dream of becoming a professional badminton player. He’s not going to have to choose between serving the shuttlecock in the Olympics and serving a mission. By his own admission, he’s not particularly good at the sport.
So why does this small teen with the big smile try so hard? Hope.
“I believe I can get better,” he says.
Hope is the reason we do a lot of things. We exercise because we hope we can become stronger and healthier. We practice a musical instrument because we hope we can learn to play well. Agung practices badminton because he hopes he can improve.
“If I had no hope of getting any better and ever winning, it would be very easy to give up,” Agung says.
Hope is an essential element of the plan of salvation. Hope that we can be forgiven leads us to repent and try again after we fail to keep a commandment.
Two of Satan’s best weapons against us are doubt and discouragement. He wasn’t able to foil Heavenly Father’s plan by stopping the Atonement. But he can still try to foil the cleansing effects of the Atonement in our lives if he can steal our hope that we can be forgiven.
“Satan wants us to lose hope,” Agung says, “because when we give up, it leaves us far from Heavenly Father.”
However, when Satan succeeds in discouraging us, there are ways to find hope again.
When we need hope for the future, we can look to the past. Agung uses an example from school that has taught him this lesson. “I’ve seen that if I study hard, I can be successful on my exams,” he says. “Because of that experience, I have hope that if I practice hard, I can improve at badminton,” he says. “My experience gives me hope.”
When we need hope in Jesus Christ, we can find it in both our past experiences with the power of the Atonement (see Romans 5:4) and the experiences of others, including the experiences you might hear in sacrament meeting, a Sunday School lesson, the New Era, or the scriptures (see Jacob 4:4–6).
As we study the hopeful words of the prophets, pray for the spiritual gift of hope, and learn to recognize the Savior’s power in our lives, our faith in Him increases, as does our hope that He will help us in the future.1
Agung knows he will probably never be a professional athlete, but he knows that as long as he keeps trying, there is hope he can improve.
He has learned that the great power of hope is this: “As long as you never give up, there is hope,” he says.
In life, the Atonement of Jesus Christ is the ultimate source of hope. Because of the Atonement we can repent when we make a mistake. That also means that because of the Atonement, we have not failed our life’s test when we make a mistake unless we give up trying to repent and obey.
That’s why Agung continues to invite his father to church every Sunday. That’s why he tries to stand up for what’s right, even when his friends don’t. That’s why he makes the hour-long round-trip bike ride to the meetinghouse so often for seminary, Mutual, Sunday meetings, missionary preparation classes, and to help clean the building.
“It’s not easy to try to be like Jesus,” Agung says. “Sometimes I get discouraged, but I don’t give up. Because of His sacrifice for me, I have hope I can be better.”
Because of the Atonement there is hope. And because of hope, the Atonement can change our lives.

Each of us has an opportunity to serve people through callings and to feel that we are “no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God” (Ephesians 2:19). I clearly and profoundly remember that shortly after I was baptized, my branch president assigned me to take the roll for Sunday School classes. I was glad to have this assignment. Each class I would excitedly hold the name list and check off each name. As time went by, I gradually got to know each member of the Sunday School. I soon became acquainted with all the members and would care about those who were absent. I felt privileged and happy that I could do my part for the Lord’s Church. I also felt that the Lord had taught me and blessed me in this assignment.

My boyfriend was not exactly thrilled about going on a mission and leaving home and me for two years. I was and still am the one who insists that I want to date only future or returned missionaries. I pushed and pleaded, threatened and fumed, but he still wouldn’t entertain the idea of a mission—even for me much less his parents. After about a year I gave up!
Then we started talking about what was really worrying both of us about a mission, both of us asking questions and trying to work out a way for both of us to be happy with the results. There were questions neither of us could answer alone, since we both would be affected by the outcome. Our search began with reading the Book of Mormon together. We also began to talk to our bishops about our questions. We also wrote to friends in the mission field to get their input on missions and how they came to the decision to serve. We came to the conclusion that he needed to put in his papers and wait for his call. I needed to go on with my life and future. When he gets back, there will be plenty of time to answer the questions about us.
Name Withheld

It would be fun to be magic, Brett thought as he snuggled into his warm bed and dreamed of dancing bears and enchanted rabbits. He and his family had just returned from a trip to the circus. They had enjoyed the funny clowns, the animal acts, and the daring acrobats, but Brett thought that the magician was the best part of the evening. He had performed exciting tricks with hoops and ropes and had even pulled a rabbit out of an empty hat.
Brett was still daydreaming about magic the next morning during breakfast. “It’s a beautiful day,” Brett’s big brother, Ryan, said as he helped clear away the dishes. “Do you want to come with me for a walk through the meadow?”
Brett shook his head. “I’m going to try to make some magic of my own.” He went to his room and began searching in drawers, cubbyholes, and corners. He rummaged through his toy box and even peered under his bed. Now and then he would stuff something into his backpack. When it was full, he zipped it up. “There’s my magic kit,” he said. “Now all I need is a magic word. How about … snickerdoodles! They’re my favorite cookies, so it’s a word that’s sure to work magic.”
Sitting outside under the big oak tree, he began the test. He remembered Mom telling him often, “Brett, you need to put on your listening ears!” He reached into his magic kit and pulled out a sheet of pink paper and a pair of scissors. Carefully he cut out two very large ears and placed them over his own.
“Snickerdoodles!” Brett whispered with his eyes closed. “Now let’s see if these ears have any magic.”
He walked into the meadow by his house, then stopped suddenly as he began to hear wonderful things. Close by, a squirrel chattered, bees hummed, and a bird whistled a happy tune. Listening very carefully, Brett could even hear Mom singing as she worked in the kitchen.
“My listening ears are magic!” Brett shouted.
The day was beginning to get warm, so he slipped off his shoes and socks and put them on a big rock where he could find them later. “Snickerdoodles!” he said brightly as he continued his walk barefoot. “Let’s see what other magic I can make.”
The grass tickled his toes like a tiny forest. The uneven ground became mountains and valleys to his bare feet. “I’m a giant!” he said with a giggle. Suddenly he felt something cool and squishy, and when he looked down, he found that he was standing in mud.
Brett liked all the new feelings—especially the thick, creamy mud oozing up between his toes. “Even my feet are magic!” he decided.
Reaching into his magic kit, he took out some toy glasses with a big, funny nose attached. “Snickerdoodles! I bet that with these on I’ll be able to see some neat things and sniff all kinds of fantastic smells.”
Sure enough, he smelled something wonderful right away and looked up to see a cherry tree covered with snow-white blossoms. A flash of silver caught his eye, and he saw a brook splashing merrily through the meadow. His big fake nose turned toward home as he smelled cookies baking—mmmm!
Filled with excitement, he ran to the top of the hill, where he could see Ryan in the distance. “Hey, Ryan, wait for me! I have something magical to show you!”
Sprinting toward Ryan, Brett tripped and tumbled head over heels down the hill, sprawling in a heap at the bottom—and on top of his now-crumpled magic ears and smashed magic glasses. The rest of his magic kit was scattered all around him.
“Oh no!” he wailed. “I’ve ruined my magic!”
Brett was still crying when Ryan came running up to help him. Between sobs, Brett explained about all the magical things he had discovered and how sad he was to lose them.
Ryan helped Brett to his feet and began gathering up the scattered treasures. “You silly boy,” he said kindly. “The magic isn’t in paper ears or funny glasses. It’s in your own body. Heavenly Father gave us sight and smell and hearing and taste and touch so that we can enjoy His beautiful world. You’ve had them all along.”
Brett sniffled. “Really, Ryan? Are you sure?”
“Look, don’t you still see the brook? Can’t you still smell the wildflowers? Don’t you still feel the wind on your cheek and the ant crawling on your hand? Why, if you listened hard enough, I bet you could hear Mom filling the cookie jar right now. How about trying out your sense of taste on a fresh-baked cookie?”
Brett jumped to his feet. He looked all around and drew in a deep breath. “You’re right, Ryan!” he exclaimed. “I’m the magic! Come on, I’ll race you for the first taste!”
They galloped side by side across the meadow. “Thanks, Heavenly Father! Thanks for my marvelous, magical body!” Brett shouted to the sky.
And guess what? The cookies were snickerdoodles!

From the time I was a young girl in Venezuela I wanted a Bible of my own. But it wasn’t until I became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ and felt a great need to get to know my Savior that I promised myself to buy a Bible the next chance I had.
The Church was new in our area, and orders for books could be filled only when someone traveled in person to mission headquarters. My branch president, who was a full-time missionary, was aware of my need. One day he told me that he would be traveling to the mission office in three days. I explained to him that even though the Bible cost very little, at that moment I did not have any money. I told him I would get it before he left, and he agreed to stop by my home on his way to the mission office.
The day of his trip arrived. I still did not have the money, so I appealed to the Lord in prayer. When I finished praying, my worry disappeared and I felt a great peace. I had barely arisen from my knees when someone knocked at the door. I opened it and saw a young mother with a baby in her arms.
“I live just behind your house,” she said with a smile. “I don’t know you, but I need a favor, and for some reason I decided to come here.” She asked me to watch her baby for a short time, saying that she would pay me. I agreed to do it.
By the time she returned, I had decided that I wouldn’t take her money. But she placed in my hand the exact amount I needed for the Bible. What tender emotions I felt at that moment! I knew that the Lord had answered my prayer. My heart overflowed with gratitude.