Gospel Story Finder

Christian and I had been married just 7½ years when our lives changed in a massive way. At the time, we were living in Arizona. Our oldest daughter, Claire, was just six; Jane was five. We added two sons to our family: Oliver and Nicholas, just 3 years old and 18 months.

On a hot August afternoon, after a lovely day at the family ranch in New Mexico, we crashed in a small airplane after takeoff.

Minutes before we gassed up the airplane to go home, I called my mother-in-law to tell her to tell the children that we would be home in about an hour. Minutes later, I woke up panicking in the back of our small airplane, and on fire. Screaming in pain, I couldn't believe this was really happening to me. I realized quickly, after several unsuccessful attempts trying to get out of the burning airplane, that there was no way I was going to make it out alive; and I knew if I just endured this horrid pain, it would eventually take me and the pain would be gone, but I would be dead. Then I thought about my four children, and somehow I found a way to get up and get out. Then I found the strength to roll and roll, extinguishing the flames off my body.

After I rolled for what seemed like hours, I landed in the yard of a home. I was exhausted and in shock.

I waited for help, and it came. The first of many miracles happened when our airplane happened to have crashed on the bishop's front lawn. I lay on my back, looking up at strangers who assisted me and helped comfort and calm me, and the bishop administered a priesthood blessing. All I could think about was how badly I needed someone to help me up so I could get home. My kids were so excited because I had planned to make our family's favorite dinner that night: pizza. On my kitchen counter at home sat the dough rising. I had a yoga class to teach later, and I needed to finish preparing my lesson for Young Women. I just needed to get home.

The airplane roared and crackled as fire engulfed it and a woodpile we happened to have crashed next to. We also crashed just yards away from a large propane tank. I was so frightened, and I remember frantically looking for Christian. Soon ambulances arrived and put us all three in different helicopters, and they flew us to the Phoenix, Arizona, burn center, where I was put in a medically induced coma for nearly four months.

Coincidentally, I was in a coma, lying in a hospital in Phoenix, Arizona, where I was being treated for full-thickness third- and fourth-degree burns over 80 percent of my body in one of the biggest burn centers in the country. In the next room, my husband, Christian, also lay in a coma with burns over nearly 40 percent of his body. We both struggled to live and heal.

We had been in an airplane crash, and on impact the airplane had burst into flames, and we had been trapped. Because of the violent impact, Christian, our pilot and dear friend Doug, and I had all been knocked unconscious and lay burning to death inside the cockpit. Doug passed away 24 hours after the accident.

When our children were younger and we would be on our way to Sunday church meetings, occasionally we would pass a car pulling a boat. My children would become silent and press their noses against the windows and ask, “Dad, why can’t we go waterskiing today instead of to church?”
Sometimes I would take the easy but cowardly way out and answer, “It’s simple; we don’t have a boat.” However, on my more conscientious days, I would muster up all the logic and spirituality available to a patriarch of a family and try to explain how much happier our family was because of our Church activity.
I first realized I wasn’t getting through when on a subsequent Sunday we saw a family laughing and excited as they loaded their snow skis onto their car. One of my teenage sons said with a sly grin, “They’re not really happy, huh, Dad?” That statement has become a family joke whenever we see someone doing something we cannot do. When I see a teenager driving a beautiful, expensive sports car, I say to my sons, “Now there’s one miserable guy.”

When my daughter, Mary, was just a small child, she was asked to perform for a PTA talent contest. This is her experience exactly as she wrote it in her seven-year-old script.
“What Can I Be?”
“I was practicing the piano one day, and it made me cry because it was so bad. Then I decided to practice ballet, and it made me cry more; it was bad, too. So then I decided to draw a picture because I knew I could do that good, but it was horrid. Of course it made me cry.
“Then my little three-year-old brother came up, and I said, ‘Duffy, what can I be? What can I be? I can’t be a piano player or an artist or a ballet girl. What can I be?’ He came up to me and whispered, ‘You can be my sister.’”
In an important moment, those five simple words changed the perspective and comforted the heart of a very anxious child. Life became better right on the spot, and as always, tomorrow was a brighter day.

Grandpa had a great desire to serve, and no matter what the job, he was dedicated to it. He served as stake clerk for many years. When the shaking of his hand became so severe that it became difficult to write, the stake president asked him if he would like to be released. Without hesitation and with a twinkle in his eye, Grandpa replied, “You know, President, it’s not writing I have a problem with. It’s fishing. Whenever I go fishing my hand gets to shaking so that I can’t tell if I’ve got a fish on the line or if it’s just me.” With that, Grandpa continued to serve in his position almost until his death.

Brad Lau doesn’t swear. He wouldn’t think of watching an inappropriate movie. While other guys listen to heavy metal in the locker room, Brad sings hymns he’s learned in ward choir. He never drinks or smokes, and he always minds his mother.
Oh, and he also happens to be a six-foot, 240-pound, all-state fullback who benches 350 and rushed for over 2,000 yards and scored 49 touchdowns during his high school career in Boise, Idaho.
Of all Brad’s statistics, perhaps the most noteworthy is “0.” That’s the number of times he’s used profanity since he started playing football.
A football player who never swears? It may be hard to believe, but Brad’s teammates say it’s true.
“When Brad gets mad on the field, he just shakes his head,” says quarterback Mitch Rasmussen. “He just turns red—beet red,” says tight end Mike Kelley. “He might look like he’s close to swearing, but he never lets it go,” says offensive lineman Nate Black. “He just unleashes a huge hit,” says strong safety Terry Deeble with a knowing grin.
And when Brad takes a hit? “I just say ‘ouch,’” says Brad, shrugging his enormous shoulders.
How does Brad refrain from swearing even in a high-tension sport in which cussing is so common?
For one thing, he avoids profanity in the music, television, and movies he chooses. “Obviously, I can’t go around and control what people say, but I can control what I watch and listen to.”
Although he doesn’t control others, Brad does try to have a positive influence in whatever environment he is in. “In the weight room, kids’ll play trashy CDs. I’ll turn it to something else, and some guys’ll say, ‘Why can’t we listen to this?’ If I ask nicely, ‘Can we listen to something else for a while?’ then they will.”
“When Brad picks the music, they’ll always give him a hard time, but it’s all in good fun,” says Terry.
And in the locker room, especially notorious for filthy talk and music, Brad says he likes to sing hymns.
A football player who sings hymns in the locker room? “Not only that, when Brad starts singing, other guys join in,” says Mitch.
Laughing, Brad recalls, “I remember once after practice I was singing, ‘How Great Thou Art.’ I guess other religions know it too, because all of a sudden even all the non-LDS guys started joining in. I was really surprised!”
So don’t people think Brad’s a little … well, strange?
“Actually, everyone looks up to Brad,” says Steve Warren, a Catholic teammate from high school. “He sets a good example. Everybody just considers him a friend.”
“Guys will tease him a lot, but then they’ll say, ‘Man, I wish I could be like that,’” says Mitch. “They respect him because they see someone who doesn’t back down.”
“And he’s nice to everyone,” says Terry. “I’ve never heard him say a mean thing.”
Perhaps that’s another key to Brad’s abstaining from profanity. He’s won people’s respect, so people respect his standards when they’re around him.
Says Steve, “When I’m around other people, every once in a while a swear word slips out. But when I’m around Brad, I just don’t do it.”
Mike nods his head in agreement. “There were even a couple of times when the coaches were swearing and just started apologizing right away. They weren’t even looking at Brad; they just knew he was around somewhere!”
Brad says when people do swear around him, he uses good-natured humor to encourage them to stop. “I’ll just jokingly say, ‘Heeeeey. Use substitute words!’ I have a good time with everybody.”
“During football season he started telling other players he was going to charge them money for every swear word they said. Some words were worth a quarter, some a dime, and some five cents,” says Steve.
“I didn’t keep track, so I never made any money,” Brad says with a smile.

Our housing office received this letter in September 2004.
"I was a student at BYU-Hawaii 1979-1980, my freshman year. After school was out but before I returned to the mainland I took a case of toilet paper out of a supply closet and together with a couple of friends proceeded to "TP" the open air courtyard of our dorm, Hale II. I am sorry for my actions done at the time. After returning from a successful mission to Brazil, I went to BYU. Now some twenty years later here is the first part of my repentance process. In an effort to correct this juvenile indiscretion, I ask the University's forgiveness and I have enclosed a check to pay for that case of toilet paper, plus interest."

In Brazil, we were recently introduced to a local archivist. He was not particularly friendly towards the Church or to FamilySearch, but we invited him to come to the open house for the new temple in Salvador, Brazil. While in the temple, he had many questions and felt something in his heart. He is of African descent, so after the temple open house, we began to discuss how we could work together to connect African Brazilians to their ancestors using our African oral genealogy records.

One of the greatest blessings of my life was being able to serve a full-time mission. It was a wonderful event for the whole family, since I was the oldest of three brothers. My parents were converts to the Church and had been baptized when I was four years old, thanks to two fine missionaries who knocked on the door of their home in Bernal, a suburb south of Buenos Aires, Argentina. As a result, my parents always hoped their children would likewise help people find the religion that had made them so happy.
Things were going wonderfully as the first year of my mission went by. Then, when I was serving in Córdoba, Argentina, I received some sad news from home: my father was very ill. He had recently undergone surgery, and the doctors had found that his illness was much advanced, in the terminal stage.
The mission president decided that I should go home, visit my father, and return to the mission field the next day. So I went home and found my father on the verge of death, most of the time unconscious and immobile. I spent most of my time at his bedside. Those were hours of sorrow, of peace, and of the abundant companionship of the Spirit. All my thoughts were centered on the Lord and His great plan.
At some point my father regained consciousness. He looked at me but did not recognize me. However, as I began to express how much I loved him and how grateful I was to be his son, he realized he was listening to his eldest child, the missionary. Tears started to roll down his cheeks, and making great effort to communicate, he said, “Your mother is a saintly woman; she is our example.” Then I clearly heard these words from his lips: “Even if you don’t have anything to eat, always pay your tithing.”
He did not say much more. I wrote down his words in my journal, left the house, and returned to the mission field. A few hours later my father passed away.
With the passage of time, as I began my own family and watched my children grow up, this experience with my father came to my mind. As I pondered the significance of life and death, I thought, “What last words of counsel would I leave my children if I knew the time had come to leave this world?” I could not think of anything better than the counsel I had received from my father: “Even if you don’t have anything to eat, always pay your tithing.”
The law of tithing is a great blessing to our family. I have learned that the Lord does not need my tithing; rather, I am the one who needs the blessings that come from obeying this law.
I have also learned that it does not matter if our donation envelope is bulging or if it contains just a few coins. We have met our obligation to the Lord if our tithing is 10 percent of our income. As we pay our tithing we become partners with the Lord. We take a stand in favor of building temples, in which all the ordinances of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ are made available to families. We take a stand in favor of building meetinghouses, where we can attend each Sunday with our families and partake of the sacrament if worthy. We take a stand in favor of helping missionary work reach the ends of the earth. And finally, we take a stand in favor of having the Church “stand independent above all other creatures beneath the celestial world” (D&C 78:14).
I consider the law of tithing a law of protection for my home and the most important principle in the sound financial management of our family’s resources.
Church members who understand the principle of tithing know that it is not primarily about money; it is about faith. Let us have faith in the promises of the Lord, who declared, “Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it” (Malachi 3:10).

Tony Wong, reared in the Church with family support, is an exception in Hong Kong. Most Church members are first-generation converts, often with families who don’t understand this “new” religion.
“It was difficult,” acknowledges Camel Lok, who was baptized as a teenager. Her family tolerated her weekly church attendance, but Camel often felt alone in her quest for spiritual growth and learning.
“I couldn’t have done it without my friends in the ward,” she explains. “Meetings on Sunday really strengthened me for the upcoming week.”
Now Camel and her husband, Gary, both returned missionaries, find support from each other and look forward to rearing their daughter with a strong gospel foundation.

“I will be back in a few minutes,” my Thai host father said on his way out the front door. At least, I think that’s what he said. My comprehension of the Thai language was sketchy at best.
I had lived in Thailand for about four months as a community service volunteer, and although I could speak basic Thai, I still had a lot to learn. I had just changed areas, but my new host family already understood that I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I did my best to explain my values and even gave the family a Thai Book of Mormon and a For the Strength of Youth pamphlet.
As I waited for my host father to come home, I sat on the living room floor and began studying a Thai phrase book. Suddenly, a strong impression came to me to invite him to pray with me. It had occurred to me before to ask him, but the impression had never come so powerfully. During my time in Thailand, I had shared the gospel on many occasions, but I had never asked anyone to pray with me.
My host father and I had a good relationship. I even called him “Dad,” which he seemed to appreciate. I felt excited and then nervous. What if he told me no? What if he felt uncomfortable around me for the rest of my time with his family? Should I chance ruining our relationship? To make matters worse, I didn’t know how to pray in Thai. I didn’t even know enough Thai to ask my host father to pray, so I asked my Heavenly Father for help.
Shortly afterward, I heard a loud clang as the front gate closed. As my host father entered, he greeted me and announced that he was going to bed. I realized that I couldn’t let this opportunity pass. As I opened my mouth to speak, I immediately knew what to say and how to say it in Thai.
“Dad, in America I used to pray with my family, and I really miss doing so. Would you pray with me?” I was surprised by his response.
“Jon,” he replied, “of course I would. Teach me how.”
I then explained in Thai what prayer is but decided to say my prayer in English. I knew God was listening, and I knew my host father felt the Spirit. My eyes welled with tears as he followed the conclusion of my prayer with “amen.”
I can’t express in words the joy and love I felt for my host father and my Heavenly Father. That experience gave me confidence and led to more experiences in sharing the gospel with others. Unfortunately, my host family never accepted my invitation to attend the local branch, but I know that the knowledge I shared with them will benefit them sooner or later.
Though we may not always see the fruits of our labors in this life, I learned that planting gospel seeds can bless at least one life—your own. And in the Lord’s time, those seeds may bless the lives of others.

My new husband and I knew the importance of family home evening in helping families learn to love each other and grow together, but our children were grown and on their own. It was hard for us to hold a family night until we decided to invite my husband’s mother. At the time my mother-in-law was 74 years old and belonged to another church. She worked in a flower shop and scarcely ventured from her routine of going to work and then home.
At first she was a little hesitant to come because she knew nothing of our faith, but now she looks forward to Monday nights. We share dinners, laughter, and music and have become very close. We know that she does not want us to try to convert her, but she does allow us to share stories about our faith. One evening I read a talk from one of the Church leaders. We all felt the Spirit. We have had opportunities to show her the Ensign, and she looks at every page. We have taught her what temples are for, and she has watched Church videos. We do these things sparingly, as the Spirit guides us.
Before one of our family home evenings, I asked her to teach the lesson. She brought pictures of herself when she was young and of my husband when he was a baby. I heard stories of aunts, uncles, grandmas, and grandpas. The happiness in her eyes as she relived these experiences made my heart almost burst. I realized then that the commandment to have family home evening is divine instruction from our Father in Heaven.
Many doors have been opened for my mother-in-law to learn things pertaining to the gospel. I don’t know that she will become a member of the Church during her life on earth, but I do know that our family has been strengthened and our love increased.
Dani Jeanne Stevens, Logan Ward, Huntington West Virginia Stake

On another occasion we saw charity build a Zion community. In the mission field, one of our missionaries softened many hearts. His prize possession given to him from his father before he left on his mission was a superb yellow camera. It went missing. And because of some obvious clues, he was sure that it had been stolen from him by his companion. But the Elder at fault would not admit it, and it was creating a contentious spirit, not conducive to missionary work. Finally the owner of the yellow camera said to President Tanner, “I would like my companion to have the camera. I think he needs it much more than I do. Let’s move on as if none of this has happened.” His benevolent response was “not easily provoked,” the opposite of angry, harsh or mean, spreading a blanket of charity over and smothering the fire that had ignited. Can we at this university forgive wrongs that may unfairly be put upon us?

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.”

The children in Ryan’s new neighborhood were from all over the world: Australia, Canada, Egypt, England, India, Kuwait, Mexico, Saudi Arabia, Scotland, the United States, and Vietnam.
Ryan had been amazed to meet people from so many places, but he noticed that sometimes children in the park played only with other children who spoke the same language. Ryan couldn’t understand why everyone didn’t want to play together, no matter where they were from or what language they spoke. Sometimes children from one country would be mean to children from another country. That made Ryan sad.
Ryan wondered what he could do, but it was hard to think of anything. He couldn’t just tell everyone to be friends—because they spoke so many different languages, they wouldn’t understand.
One day Ryan’s family took a walk down the street. Some of the boys who had been mean were outside. One of them was holding a soccer ball. Ryan liked to play soccer too. Getting up his courage, Ryan walked over to the boys. He knew a few words of their language, and they knew a little of his. Ryan and the boys started smiling and laughing as they tried out the different languages. Then Ryan pointed to the soccer ball. “Do you want to play soccer with me?” he asked slowly, hoping they would understand. He smiled extra big.
The boys looked at him, then at each other. They talked for a minute, but Ryan couldn’t understand the words. Then they looked back at Ryan and nodded. Ryan grinned, and they ran to the nearby park. Ryan waved to his friends who spoke English, and a little shyly they walked over. One boy set down the soccer ball, and the game began.
A while later Ryan took a quick break to run home for a drink of water.
“How’s it going out there?” Mom asked.
“Great!” Ryan said. “It’s like this, Mom. We’re all shoes!”
“Shoes?” Mom asked.
“Sure. We’re all different, but we all wear two shoes—and that’s all you need for soccer.”
“Good discovery,” Mom said. “You’re all children of Heavenly Father, and you’re more alike than you think.”
Ryan waved as he ran back out the door to play with his new friends.
After that day the children in the neighborhood went to the park every Thursday to play soccer together. It didn’t matter what languages they spoke or where they were from—they were all shoes, and that was enough.

Leniel Gava was called to serve in the Mozambique Maputo Mission, but he began serving in his native Zimbabwe while awaiting the visa that would allow him to train and learn Portuguese at the Brazil Missionary Training Centre. After a four-month wait, Elder Gava finally made it to Brazil, and a few weeks later, he arrived in Maputo.
Elder Gava loved Mozambique and his opportunity to share the gospel. He had settled into the work and was starting to feel comfortable with Portuguese when the COVID-19 pandemic began in March 2020. Most missionaries in Africa were suddenly returned to their native countries. Back he went to Zimbabwe.
Elder Gava says that the missionaries felt constantly confused during the repatriation process. Where would they be sent? For how long? In what way would they serve while they were waiting for the pandemic to die down? It wasn’t until he finally met with his mission president, Tasara Makasi, that he was calmed. President Makasi told him, “The Lord’s work doesn’t stop, just adjust and continue to do His work.” So, Elder Gava did, even in lockdown conditions.
Missionaries, who were confined to their homes like everyone else, soon received smartphones and access to social media platforms that allowed them to connect with people responding to a Facebook ad published on the Africa South Area Facebook pages titled “Where Can I Turn for Peace?”
Very soon after the ad ran, Elder Gava and his companion were given a stack of names and phone numbers from people who had responded to the advert, indicating that they were interested in meeting with the missionaries and finding out more about the Church. They were asked to contact each person. As they looked through the names and numbers, both missionaries were impressed to call a particular woman. She answered in a very low voice, but after they had introduced themselves, she almost screamed with happiness. “Thank you so much for reaching out to me!” she said. “Thank you for calling at the right time.”
As the conversation progressed, the elders learned that this woman was then lying in a hospital bed having just suffered a stillbirth. “She was saying she was so hurt . . . like there was a deep hole in her heart,” he said. “At the time we called her, she needed someone to be there with her, but, unfortunately, she was alone. That sister became one of our good friends and we started teaching her online.”
President Henry B. Eyring, Second Counsellor in the First Presidency, taught that the gift of the Holy Ghost helps us to lift others when they need it the most. “You are a covenant member of the Church of Jesus Christ. . . .
“That is why you have a feeling to want to help a person struggling to move forward under a load of grief and difficulty. You promised that you would help the Lord make their burdens light and be comforted. You were given the power to help lighten those loads when you received the gift of the Holy Ghost.”1
Elder Gava says this experience taught him how the Spirit works in our lives and how it can move us to talk to people who need us, at the time they need us. He also learnt another lesson: the importance of the proper use of technology in missionary work. He realised that technology can be used to reach out to our Heavenly Father’s children.
On Elder Gava’s mission he saw these two channels working together: the Holy Ghost was the heavenly channel, bringing a message from heaven to the missionaries; and technology was the earthly channel, bringing that message from the missionaries to their brothers and sisters.

It was my privilege and opportunity to open the missionary work in the Philippines. At 6:30 on a May morning in 1961 we met in the American military cemetery because we had no other place to meet. We sang hymns together and asked the blessings of the Lord upon that which we were about to begin. We had found one native Filipino member of the Church. He gave us his testimony of this work on that occasion. He was the only member of record then. But when we were there last August, fourteen years later, a great area conference was held. In the vast Arenetta coliseum, beneath that great roof, there were assembled some eighteen thousand members of the Church. It is a miracle, and it is found in many lands, with many people.

The word come is an invitation. It suggests movement from one place to another. Taylor A. knows well the meaning of this word.
Taylor is bright, joyful, and full of the Spirit, but she would be quick to tell you that those words did not describe her two years ago. She has moved to a different place now, spiritually and physically. She is a pioneer.
“I’ve been a pioneer in my life,” she said, “because I’m a recent convert. And my journey has just been amazing. I just feel like it’s a whole new life. And once we take that first step in our journey, miracles happen.”
Not only does Taylor understand the invitation to come—she knows the source of the invitation. She observed, “In our world, we’re so disconnected with what got us here, right? We are so caught up in our jobs and technology, and a message that’s really been hitting me lately is putting Christ first. If we just connect to really what the pioneers did—[they were] centered in Christ.”
Follow is another invitation. On the pioneer trek, Ethan G. gained a greater understanding of this word. “Sometimes I haven’t felt the best on trek, or I’ve felt kind of discouraged,” he admitted. “But I realize that the pioneers also felt that way.”
Ethan used to wonder why the early pioneers were willing to do what they did. He said, “I feel like I might have just given up. But as I’ve thought about that, I kind of realized that it’s because they loved the Savior, and they have a hope they can become better through Him. I want to try that too.”
Before Ethan went on the trek, he read about pioneers from the past, felt a connection with them, and was inspired by their faith to follow Jesus Christ. And what is Ethan doing now? He is preparing to receive a call to serve as a full-time missionary. True to President Monson’s counsel, he is getting ready to show others the way to follow.
Where should we come? Who should we follow? The Savior tells us: “Come, follow me” (Luke 18:22; emphasis added). When Harmony left home for trek, she saw the Lord’s hand in her experience. She knew she was following Him.
Harmony’s path to her stake trek was different from others’ paths. At age 15 she learned that she had a rare form of skin cancer. She wasn’t able to participate in her stake trek. “I was devastated,” she recalled.
Four years later, when her stake announced another trek, Harmony was free of cancer. But at age 19, she thought she wouldn’t be able to go. Then she received a calling to participate as a leader. She said, “It’s a testimony to me that the Lord knows who we are, and He knows the desires of our hearts, and if they’re righteous and good, He’ll bless us.”
Harmony offered advice to help us when we face trials: “To anyone who’s struggling, I’d say just to lean on the Lord. He’s always there for you. He loves us, and He won’t let us fall. We just need to reach out our hand to Him, and He will help us on our pioneer journey.”
If you never go on a pioneer trek, you can still be a pioneer. You don’t have to wear a bonnet or pull a handcart. You just need to follow Jesus Christ, as the early pioneers did. In doing so, you will be, as President Monson said, “one who goes before to prepare or open up the way for others to follow.”
If you do have an opportunity to go on a pioneer trek, enjoy it! And when it’s over and you leave your handcart behind, don’t leave your pioneer testimony inside it. Bring that testimony with you.
You are a real-life, modern-day pioneer. With the ultimate Pioneer—the Savior—as your guide, you are sure to succeed!

I had an experience on my mission with someone we were teaching who struggled to commit to baptism. She felt she needed to read the entire Book of Mormon first. So, we spent a full day reading together. At the end, she said, “I know this is a good book.” We invited her to pray about baptism—but when she finished, she said she didn’t receive an answer. I couldn’t understand why. After all that effort, why wouldn’t God answer her? Then my companion asked a simple question: “If God told you to be baptized, would you?” She answered honestly: “No.” That’s when I learned something important about revelation.
In Moroni 10:4, we’re told to ask “with a sincere heart, with real intent.” [14] I’ve come to understand that real intent means a willingness to act on the answer. When God gives us direction, we become accountable for what we do with it. And so sometimes, when we aren’t ready to act, the answer doesn’t come.

Julie bit her lip as she walked home with her new friends. She didn’t know what to tell them about the Church.
“My dad says you Mormons are different from the rest of us and that you aren’t Christians,” Tiffany told her. “He said that you believe in Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon but not the Bible.”
“That’s what I’ve heard, too,” Meghan added. She pointed to the blue book Julie had tucked under her arm. “I don’t see you carrying the Bible to school, just your Book of Mormon.”
Julie wanted to avoid an argument, but she had to stand up for what she knew was right. “Members of the Church are Christians. And I brought my Book of Mormon to school to show Miss Hall. She asked to see it after I did my history report on Joseph Smith last week.”
“See?” Tiffany smirked. “You do believe in Joseph Smith.”
“That’s right. I believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I also believe in Jesus Christ as the Savior.”
“Then why aren’t you called Christians like other people?” Meghan asked. “Why do people call you Mormons?”
Julie choked back the angry words that hovered on her tongue. “I have to get home. I promised Mom I’d watch Benny while she goes to the store.”
As Julie hurried ahead, she heard whispers floating behind her. She swiped at the tears that trailed down her cheeks and wished for the hundredth time that her family hadn’t had to move here for her father’s job. It had been hard to leave her friends in California. Tiffany and Meghan were the first friends she’d made here, and now it looked as if she might lose them.
Julie wiped away the tears as she opened the kitchen door, hoping her mother wouldn’t notice she’d been crying. But her mother took one look at her and sat down at the kitchen table, gesturing for Julie to join her. Soon the whole story was spilling out.
“Maybe Tiffany and Meghan simply don’t understand,” her mother suggested.
“But why did they say that we aren’t Christians?”
“A lot of people think that. They don’t understand that just because we believe in the Book of Mormon, it isn’t Mormon’s Church. It’s Jesus Christ’s Church.”
Julie thought about it that afternoon as she did her homework. She tried to concentrate on it, but she couldn’t forget the things her friends had said. If only she could help them understand!
“Julie, what’s this?” Benny asked.
She looked up and saw the small card he held up to her. “It’s an Articles of Faith card.”
“What are Art-Arti-Articles of Faith?”
“They explain what Church members believe in.” She jumped up, crossed the room, and kissed her little brother. “Thanks, Benny—you’ve just given me the answer to my problem!”
The following day, she passed Tiffany and Meghan on the way to art class. She smiled at both of them. “See you after class,” she said.
When the bell rang, Julie found Tiffany and Meghan waiting for her in the hallway.
“Let’s walk home together,” Julie suggested.
Tiffany and Meghan exchanged looks. “OK.”
Julie waited until they were outside before beginning. “Yesterday you said Mormons are different. You were right. We are different.” She took a deep breath and began reciting the first article of faith: “‘We believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost.’”
“You believe they are three different persons?” Meghan asked.
“That’s right.”
Tiffany frowned. “But aren’t they all the same?”
Julie paused, praying that she could find the right words. “They are one in purpose, and They work together, but They’re three distinct persons.”
“What about Mormon?” Tiffany asked. “The man your church is named after. Who’s he?”
“The real name of the Church is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but sometimes we’re called Mormons because we believe that the Book of Mormon is scripture, just like the Bible. In fact, we say that it is ‘Another Testament of Jesus Christ.’ You see, Mormon lived a long time ago on the American continent, and he kept a record of his people and how they lived the gospel of Jesus Christ. His son, Moroni, appeared as an angel—”
“An angel?” Meghan interrupted. “Like a Christmas angel? In a long white robe and halo?”
Julie smiled and shook her head. “Moroni appeared to Joseph Smith and told him where the golden plates that Mormon’s history was written on were buried. Eventually Joseph Smith translated the golden plates and called it the Book of Mormon.”
“Hey, this is exciting,” Meghan said.
“Do you have any more of those things that you believe in?” Tiffany asked.
“They’re called the Articles of Faith. There are thirteen in all.” Julie reached inside her pocket, pulled out two small cards, and gave them to her friends. “Here.” She watched as Tiffany and Meghan looked over the cards.
“Do you know all these by heart?” Tiffany asked.
“Uh-huh. I memorized them in Primary.”
“What’s Primary?”
“It’s a little like your Sunday School. We have class on Sundays and sometimes an activity during the week.”
“Maybe I can come with you sometime,” Tiffany said.
“Me, too,” Meghan chimed in.
Julie smiled at them. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

Josh fidgeted on the bench. Sacrament meeting had already lasted an hour, and he was tired of sitting. He was tired of being quiet too. His feet didn’t quite reach the floor, and that made his legs hurt.
When he tried to ask his mother what the speaker’s talk was about, she said, “Shh.”
Josh looked around him at his friends. Tammy was coloring a picture of Captain Moroni. Jody was making a Noah’s Ark out of a piece of paper. Josh wanted to do that, too, but his father told him that it made too much noise. “Try thinking about Jesus,” his father whispered to him. “Remember, Jesus wants us to be reverent in church.”
“I’m trying,” Josh whispered back.
Josh couldn’t wait until Primary. Sister Cheshire always had such good stories in his CTR-A class that he could sit for almost twenty minutes without wiggling.
As soon as Sunday School singing practice was over, he jumped up from the bench and started to run to the Primary room. He stopped when he saw the Primary president. She smiled at him. Josh walked the rest of the way to class, but he walked very fast.
Today Sister Cheshire told the class that she needed their help. “I want each of you to name a way you can show Jesus that you love Him.”
“Going to Primary,” Jody volunteered.
“Picking up my papers after sacrament meeting,” Tammy said.
Sister Cheshire smiled. “Those are both good ways. What about you, Josh? Can you think of a way of showing your love for Jesus?”
Josh thought hard. “Being reverent,” he said.
“That’s a very important way,” his teacher agreed. “How can we be reverent?”
“That’s easy,” Tammy said. “We just have to be quiet.”
“What do you think, Josh?” Sister Cheshire asked.
Josh looked at his teacher. “We can be quiet anytime,” he said, frowning thoughtfully.
“That’s right,” his teacher said. “Being reverent means more than just being quiet.”
“My father said I should try thinking about Jesus during sacrament meeting. I tried, but I kept thinking about other things.”
Sister Cheshire held up a picture of Jesus in a white robe. His face was kind and gentle. “When we partake of the sacrament, we promise that we will always remember Jesus. Now, what does the bread represent?”
“His body,” Jody said before anyone else could answer.
“The water’s supposed to stand for His blood,” Tammy added.
Sister Cheshire smiled. “You’re both right. The water is a symbol of Christ’s blood, just as the bread is a symbol of His body.” She looked at Josh. “What do you think about when you see a picture of Jesus?”
“I think about how much He must have loved us,” Josh said slowly.
He looked at Sister Cheshire. She was crying.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said, feeling like he might start crying too.
“It’s all right, Josh. I’m crying because you’re right—Jesus does love us very much—so much that He was willing to die for us.” She handed a small copy of the picture to each child. “When you come to church next week, I want each of you to bring this picture with you. It will help you remember Jesus when the sacrament is being passed.”
Josh stared at his picture. Jesus looked as if He was smiling right at him. Slipping it inside his Bible, he said, “Thank you, Sister Cheshire.”
“Thank you, Josh, for helping us better understand how we can be reverent. Will you say our closing prayer now, please?”
Josh started the prayer the way he always did. Then, after thanking Heavenly Father for Primary and his teacher and the beautiful day, he remembered the picture and said, “Heavenly Father, please help us to remember Jesus and show Him that we love Him by being reverent.”
He felt good a few minutes later as he walked down the hall, telling his mother and father about the lesson and showing them his picture of the Savior.