Gospel Story Finder

During my senior year of high school I decided to try out for the school musical. I liked to sing, and ever since I was young I enjoyed acting. When I was in elementary school, I wrote and put on plays with my friends for our fellow classmates. But somewhere between elementary and high school I developed a severe case of stage fright. Being on the stage was both exhilarating and terrifying!
On the day before auditions I received some alarming news—the auditions would be “open,” meaning I’d have to sing in front of not only the teachers, but all the students who were trying out. I was devastated. The thought of singing a solo in front of a room full of students made me numb with fear. I couldn’t see how I could possibly go through with it.
That night, I began to debate if I should even try out. I went through the pros and cons with my mom. My older brother overheard our conversation. “I don’t know why you’re so worried,” he said with some frustration. “You can sing and dance just as well as anyone else.” His words surprised me because he rarely said things like that. I knew he cared about me, but at the time he usually didn’t admit to it. The pros won, and I decided to try out.
The following day I entered the drama room after school to await my audition. As I sat with the other students in the packed classroom, I could feel the color leave my face, and my whole body trembled slightly. I was nervous and unable to calm myself. Then the thought came to mind: “My brother believes in me. He believes I can do this.” Maybe I would be just fine after all.
With courage in my brother’s words, I walked on stage, phased out all the faces in the crowd, and sang. I sang my heart out. I gave it all I had and finished strong. When I was done, I looked out at my peers and teachers and saw many smiles. I was happy for performing so well and relieved it was over.
I made call-backs and got a part. I’m glad I tried out because that musical was a highlight of my senior year.
The experience of that audition has stuck with me. My brother’s words, and knowing he believed in me, helped me to conquer something that seemed so impossible to me.

I recently learned of a particular young adult sister who decided to serve a full-time mission. She had developed a capacity to connect with and relate to people from almost every belief system, political persuasion, and nationality, and she worried that wearing a missionary name tag all day, every day, might become an identifier that could impede her exceptional ability to establish relationships. Just a few weeks into her mission, she wrote home about a simple but meaningful experience:
“Sister Lee and I rubbed salve into an old lady’s arthritic hands—one of us on either side—while we sat in her living room. She didn’t want to listen to any spoken messages, but let us sing, loved us to sing. Thank you, black missionary name tag, for giving me license to have intimate experiences with complete strangers.”

Ashley* sweetly said good-bye and walked inside.
I still couldn’t believe my luck. Beautiful Ashley was my girl.
We were the perfect pair. Everybody said so. Late night walks, secret gifts … it was perfect. And nothing could ever tear us apart.
There was one tiny problem: I was 14 and she was 13.
But this was love! We were in love, so did age really matter?
Besides, it’s not like we were really “dating.” We were just two kids who happened to like each other and express it. It started with flirting and shy smiles, and then we held hands. But we were in control. And we were the cutest couple. Everyone said so.
I spent every waking moment with Ashley: at school, at Mutual, and at church. She lived only a few blocks away, so I even sneaked over to her house to spend more time with her. Everything was fantastic—but really, it wasn’t.
Our leaders and parents warned us not to date before we were 16, but I just figured they didn’t really understand our situation. We were good kids, and we were keeping the law of chastity, so the whole “no dating” thing wasn’t really for us, right? We were meant to be!
Turns out, we weren’t. Before long, Ashley found someone else and left me shattered. She stopped talking to me and lied about me to my friends, and I was heartbroken. So heartbroken that it threw me into a deep depression.
My thoughts turned dark, and I cried almost every night. I started ditching church to avoid Ashley. I refused to talk to my parents, ignored my friends, and drifted away from Heavenly Father. I felt completely alone and hopeless. It took a year of struggling, but slowly I began to feel better and happier, and I began to return to God as well.
No matter what I’d believed, I wasn’t an exception to the rule. I’d ignored the prophet’s counsel to not date before 16 or pair off exclusively or get physical too early, and there were consequences. I unlocked my heart and got too attached before it was time for me to love someone in that way. I became too emotionally dependent before my emotions were fully developed. I missed out on a lot because I was so caught up in “love” and then too caught up in my sadness.
My life would have been much easier and happier if I had just lived the dating standards. Maybe my leaders didn’t know about my situation, but the Lord did. The Lord perfectly understands every situation we are in. And He is the one giving us standards to live by. He is the one advising us to not date before we are 16 and to not steady date until we’re ready to consider marriage.
Even after I turned 16, I was careful to get to know lots of people and to not steady date. And sometimes it was still tough! It’s hard to resist the urge to jump into a relationship, especially when you find out your crush likes you back! It’s even harder to do the right thing when you’re already in a relationship. But now is the time to lock your heart. I know that no matter how hard it is to end or stay out of romantic relationships, it is always worth it to keep the standards the Lord has given us.

Betsy was six years old. All her life she had been happy in Nauvoo with her father and mother and her big brother Tommy, but lately she was troubled. Almost every day someone would say to her, “We are going west when the grass grows and the water runs.” She did not know exactly what this meant, but she thought it meant that someday soon they were going to leave their big beautiful home in Nauvoo and go away, and she did not want to go away!
She looked at the clock hanging on the wall, watching the pendulum swing back and forth. Would the clock go with them, and the chair with the big round back? In the kitchen Mother was getting supper. Would they take the stove, the table, and all the chairs?
Where would they put all these things? Yesterday she had gone with her father to the blacksmith shop to see the wagon the blacksmith was making for them to take out west. She knew it was not big enough to take everything.
Betsy’s kitten looked up at her and meowed. She stooped down and picked it up and sat down in front of the fire in the fireplace. Out of the window she could see snow settling on the fence posts like big marshmallows. “It’s too cold to go out west now, kitty,” she said. “Maybe we’ll just wait until it gets warmer.”
For an answer the kitten curled up on her lap, stuck its little nose in the crook of her arm, and went to sleep. The clock on the wall seemed to say, “Sleep-Betsy, sleep-Betsy,” and soon Betsy, too, was asleep.
When she awoke, everyone seemed to be talking at once. Tommy reported that he had tied a halter around old Nell’s neck. Mother said that the flour would have to be brought up from the cellar. Father was hurrying in and out of the open door, carrying supplies to the covered wagon.
“Where are we going?” asked Betsy, but no one stopped to answer. She was cold, so she put on her coat and then just stood and watched. She was standing near her father when he said to Tommy, “It’s too bad you can’t take your pet ram, son. If we could have waited until spring, it would have been different. Then there would have been plenty of grass and water, but now the ground is frozen and there won’t be very much of either. We’ll have to give all of the grain we can get to the oxen.”
“But why do we have to go now? Why can’t we wait until spring?” asked Tommy.
“Because it isn’t safe to stay,” replied Father. “Last night one of the brethren was kidnapped and whipped. We don’t know yet whether or not he will even live. Three weeks ago two families were driven from their homes in bitter cold weather and had to watch their houses burn to the ground.
“This morning Brigham Young met with all of the men who hold the priesthood, and we decided it would save a lot of trouble if we started at once. That’s why we’re going now, son.
“Of course, food will be scarce and the cattle will suffer, but President Young asked everyone to raise his hand and promise to share whatever he had with others. ‘When what you have is gone,’ he said, ‘the Lord will bless you and help you get some more.’ As for your ram, Tommy, someone will find him and care for him.”
Betsy saw Tommy put his hand to his throat as if he were trying to rub away a sob. Father saw too, and put his arm around Tommy as he said, “This is a time when even eight-year-old boys must act like men.”
“But I wish there were something I could take that would be my very own,” said Tommy.
Tommy’s father was quiet for a minute, and then he said, “I guess none of us can take anything that belongs just to us. What we have must all belong to each other. But there is something you can take care of for us, and that is the old flag in the top bureau drawer. Your grandfather carried that flag while fighting for liberty in the Revolutionary War. Go get it, son, and take care of it for us. I think we’ll have need of it someday.”
Betsy knew now where they were going. She picked up the kitten, fearful her father would not let her take it with them. She held it so tightly that it started to meow. It dug its claws into her shoulder, but she wouldn’t let go. Mother saw the tears Betsy was trying to hold back and asked, “What is the trouble, dear?”
“I want to take my kitten out west with us,” Betsy replied. “May I?”
Mother looked troubled. She glanced out of the window at the cow, then out of the door at the wagon, and her eyes seemed to go far beyond the wagon itself. “You know, Betsy,” she answered at last, “we are taking a cow. If there were only going to be our family, I’m sure we would have enough milk for your kitten. But there will be many children with us whose parents won’t have a cow, and these children will all need milk. You wouldn’t want a little baby to go hungry just because you had taken your kitten along, would you?”
Betsy’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to go west. I want to stay here with my kitten, my clock, and my bed.” She sat down in the big chair with the round back where her mother had so often held her when she was only a baby. She tried so hard to keep from crying that her throat ached and her jaws hurt.
Finally she looked up and saw that her mother’s eyes were filled with tears. Suddenly she knew Mother wasn’t happy about leaving their home to go west, either. Betsy was sorry she had acted like a baby. She was six years old now, and that was old enough to act like a woman!
Quickly Betsy got up from the chair, straightened her shoulders, and said, “I want to help, Mother. What can I do to get ready to go out west?”
Her mother smiled, gave her a quick hug, and answered, “You can put all these bars of soap into a box. It will be a long time before we can make soap again.”
At last they were ready to go. Father and Mother sat in the wagon seat; Betsy and Tommy sat in the back on top of the feather mattress, which had been thrown over all the supplies that had been piled into the bottom of the wagon. Old Nell was tied to the back axle and seemed to accept it as her part to walk along at the pace the oxen set.
Tommy and Betsy looked back on their old home. The sheep were still in the pasture. The pet ram was standing still near the gate. Betsy could not see her kitten and hoped it was in the house where it would keep warm. All along the streets they waved to friends and neighbors who were also packing their belongings and who would follow in their tracks before the sun cast its evening glow on the frozen waters of the Mississippi River.

A few days later Richie loaded up his pillow and sleeping bag into the backseat of the station wagon. He ran into the house. “Come on, Mom. It’s time!”
“Just a minute, honey.”
“Mom, Uncle Dave said five thirty, and it’s five twenty-seven now. Let’s go!”
“OK!” Mom smiled. “I think someone is excited about his first camping trip.”
Mom dropped Richie off at his cousins’ house and gave him a hug and kiss good-bye. “Now, be sure to tell Uncle Dave thank you for letting you join them. Dress warm tonight, and be careful.”
Richie waved good-bye, anxious to leave for the camp-out. Soon he and his cousins were traveling up the narrow road that wound through the green canyon. Once they reached the camping ground, they all worked together to set up the tent and build a fire.
Richie marveled at the green fir trees that reached up into the sky. The sky grew dark, and twinkling stars appeared. “I’ve never seen so many stars,” he told his cousin Todd. “It’s like I just took a pair of dark glasses off and can really see what’s in the sky.”
“You can see so many stars now because we’re away from the lights of the city,” Todd explained. “City lights usually drown out most of the stars.”
After a tinfoil dinner of hamburgers and potatoes, everyone gathered to sing around the fire while Uncle Dave played his guitar. The smell from the campfire clung to Richie’s sweatshirt. The soothing sound of the music and a full stomach made it difficult for him to stay awake. He had to fight to keep his eyes open.
“It looks like you are all having a hard time staying awake,” Uncle Dave said. “Let’s call it a night.”
“Come on, Richie, let’s hit the sack,” Todd called. Richie followed him and Douglas into the tent. He snuggled into his fluffy red sleeping bag and quickly fell asleep.
A few hours later Richie awoke with a start. He blinked to adjust his eyes to the darkness, then remembered that he wasn’t in his bedroom but in a tent. The only sound was the steady hum of the crickets outside. His stomach felt queasy as the dream he had just had came back to him. I wish I was home, he thought. I wish I was in my own bed and that I could go get Dad.
He looked around. No one else in the tent was awake. Richie shivered. He didn’t want to wake Todd or Douglas. They were older, and he didn’t want them to think he was a crybaby. Still, the gnawing in his stomach didn’t go away, and the darkness seemed to surround him.
Thoughts of black bears and hungry mountain lions with fiery eyes filled his mind and added to the fear he already felt from his dream. If Dad were here, we could …
Richie quietly pulled himself onto his knees. “Heavenly Father,” he whispered into the darkness, “please help me to not be afraid. …”
When he finished his prayer, he felt warm and safe. As he climbed back into his cozy sleeping bag, he thought, I’m so glad that even if Dad isn’t here, I have another Father who can help, a Father who is always just a prayer away.

“Mom! Mom!” Juan shouted as he ran into the house.
“What happened?” Mother asked, a little surprised by all the excitement.
“She was right! She was right!” Juan cried.
“She was right? Who was right? What are you talking about, Juan?”
“Come sit down, Mom, so I can tell you what happened in school,” Juan replied.
Mother sat down and gave Juan her attention.
“In history class we were studying different cultures. Some of the cultures worship different gods and have different beliefs. Some kids started making fun, and everybody was joking around. And then the whole class started arguing about different religions. They were standing up and defending their own religions and attacking everybody else’s. And the class was really noisy, with everybody talking at the same time.
“So the teacher stood up and told us to take turns. She said each person could come to the front of the room and explain something about his or her beliefs. But when the class heard that, they got scared and sat down. Our teacher stood there waiting for somebody to come up and talk.
“You know what, Mom? Nobody wanted to go up. But some of the kids were whispering quietly to each other. They would say, ‘In my church, we don’t drink alcohol.’ And others would answer, ‘We don’t either.’ Or they would say, ‘We go to church every Sunday.’ And other people would answer, ‘We do, too.’ But that was all.
“I was listening to what they were saying. Then I remembered what Sister Piedrasanta said in Primary. She always tells us that if we learn the Articles of Faith and know what they mean, it will be easy to talk to others about our religion.
“So I raised my hand and went up in front of everybody, even though I was scared.”
“That took courage, Juan,” Mother said. “What did you say?”
“I just imagined I was in Primary, and I said, ‘“We believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost” (A of F 1:1). This means that They are three different personages.’ Then I explained that God the Father and Jesus Christ each have a body. I said, ‘They have eyes and a nose and arms and legs.’
“Some kids started laughing. But I remembered what Sister Piedrasanta taught us, and I said, ‘The Bible says that God made man in His own image and likeness. We have a body of flesh and bones because He does’ (see Gen. 1:27). And you know what, Mom? They were all quiet. Then I went on saying the Articles of Faith. Everybody was listening carefully. I felt strong inside.
“After a while, I said, ‘All of us are in the same school. We should be friends and not fight over our religions or criticize and make fun of other people. We should love each other no matter what we believe.’ Then I said the eleventh article of faith: ‘We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, and what they may.’ [A of F 1:11]
“Then everyone clapped and shouted, ‘Yeah, Juan! Way to go!’ My teacher asked how I learned all those things about my religion.
“‘In my Primary class at church,’ I answered.
“Then she went on with history class. But now everyone in my class knows what Latter-day Saints believe. That’s why I was saying Sister Piedrasanta was right. Knowing the Articles of Faith helps a lot.”
“I am so proud of what you did, Juan,” Mother said. She smiled at Juan and gave him a big hug.

Later in my youth, my brother and I slept in an unheated bedroom in the winter. People thought that was good for you. Before falling into a warm bed, we knelt to say our prayers. There were expressions of simple gratitude. They concluded in the name of Jesus. The distinctive title of Christ was not used very much when we prayed in those days.

I recall jumping into my bed after I had said amen, pulling the covers up around my neck, and thinking of what I had just done in speaking to my Father in Heaven in the name of His Son. I did not have great knowledge of the gospel. But there was some kind of lingering peace and security in communing with the heavens in and through the Lord Jesus.

When we “put on Christ,” it becomes possible either to resolve or to lay aside differences, disagreements, and disputes. A rather dramatic example of overcoming division is found in our Church history. Elder Brigham Henry Roberts (commonly known as B. H. Roberts), born in England in 1857, served as a member of the First Council of the Seventy—what we refer to today as the Presidency of the Seventy. Elder Roberts was an able and tireless defender of the restored gospel and of the Church in some of its most difficult times.

In 1895, however, Elder Roberts’s service in the Church was put in jeopardy by contention. B. H. had been appointed as a delegate to the convention that drafted a constitution for Utah when it became a state. Afterward, he decided to become a candidate for the United States Congress but did not notify or seek permission from the First Presidency. President Joseph F. Smith, a counselor in the First Presidency, censured B. H. for that failure in a general priesthood meeting. Elder Roberts lost the election and felt his defeat was due in large part to President Smith’s statements. He was critical of Church leaders in some political speeches and interviews. He withdrew from active Church service. In a lengthy meeting in the Salt Lake Temple with members of the First Presidency and Council of the Twelve, B. H. remained adamant in justifying himself. Later, “President [Wilford] Woodruff gave [Elder Roberts] three weeks to reconsider his position. If he remained unrepentant, they would release him from the Seventy.”

In a subsequent private meeting with Apostles Heber J. Grant and Francis Lyman, B. H. was initially unyielding, but love and the Holy Spirit ultimately prevailed. Tears came to his eyes. The two Apostles were able to respond to certain perceived slights and offenses that troubled B. H., and they left with a heartfelt plea for reconciliation. The next morning, after lengthy prayer, Elder Roberts sent a note to Elders Grant and Lyman that he was prepared to reunite with his brethren.

When he later met with the First Presidency, Elder Roberts said, “I went to the Lord and received light and instruction through His Spirit to submit to the authority of God.” Motivated by his love of God, B. H. Roberts remained a faithful and an able Church leader to the end of his life.

A number of years ago I had a chance to represent the state of Utah at a nationwide convention in Ohio attended by high school swimmers.
Our stay included parties for the athletes. When I went to a party the first night, I thought it was going to be like the fun parties we held back home—drinking root beer and playing games. But as soon as I walked into the room, I got a reality check.
Immediately, I understood what the articles in the Church magazines were talking about when they said, “You will stand out when you are the only member of the Church.” Somehow my fellow athletes had already figured out that I was a Latter-day Saint. The room grew quiet, and everyone seemed to be staring at me as I dug into the chip bowl.
“Hey,” someone said, “you’re a Mormon, aren’t you?”
I smiled proudly and said, “I sure am, and I’m happy to be one.”
The party then resumed, but I felt many eyes on me, watching my every move. After a while, the party began to get wild. I wasn’t sure how wild it would become, but I didn’t want to be part of it. If I stayed, I feared I would give people the wrong impression about my standards. Besides, the Spirit prompted me to leave. When I grabbed my swim bag and headed for the door, one of the boys yelled, “Hey, are you wimping out on us?”
I just smiled and said, “See you guys tomorrow.” I then walked out, feeling good that I had made my presence known while defending the Lord’s standards.
The next day during a house of delegates meeting, one of the delegates rose and sternly said, “Something happened last night that I don’t ever want to happen again. You’re here to represent your state, so do it well and act appropriately!”
Then he added, “Some of you left and didn’t take part in what happened. Thank you.”
For the rest of the week, I received more respect and friendly expressions than I had ever received before. Many coaches from across the United States urged me to run for an athlete-representative position for the western states because I had represented Utah well.
I never found out what happened at the party, but I’m grateful that the Spirit prompted me to leave.

That experience made it somewhat easier for me to make a difficult decision just one year later. Again Christmas time had come. We were preparing for the oven a gigantic turkey and anticipating the savory feast that awaited. A neighborhood pal of mine asked a startling question: “What does turkey taste like?”

I responded, “Oh, about like chicken tastes.”

Again a question: “What does chicken taste like?”

It was then that I realized that my friend had never eaten chicken or turkey. I asked what his family was going to have for Christmas dinner. There was no prompt response—just a downcast glance and the comment, “I dunno. There’s nothing in the house.”

I pondered a solution. There was none. I had no turkeys, no chickens, no money. Then I remembered I did have two pet rabbits. Immediately I took my friend by the hand and rushed to the rabbit hutch, placed the rabbits in a box, and handed the box to him with the comment, “Here, take these two rabbits. They’re good to eat—just like chicken.”

He took the box, climbed the fence, and headed for home, a Christmas dinner safely assured. Tears came easily to me as I closed the door to the empty rabbit hutch. But I was not sad. A warmth, a feeling of indescribable joy, filled my heart. It was a memorable Christmas.

One day, Justina met two young missionaries in crisp white shirts and ties. Intrigued by their appearance and message, she invited them into her home and listened to their teachings. The message resonated with her, and in 2006, she was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Shortly afterward, her husband and daughters followed her example, embracing the gospel with open hearts.

I grew up in a small town in Canada. When I was 13, my father lost his job and our family relocated to Edmonton in order to survive. A few months after we moved to the city, my mother and father had a violent argument, resulting in my mother being hospitalized for six months. After a time, she allowed my father back into our household. This devastated me, and I turned to alcohol and drugs to escape the anger welling up inside.
At precisely this time, the missionaries found me. As I met families in the local ward, I was impressed with the respect the spouses had for one another and the affection parents showed their children. At age 16 I was baptized.
My first year of membership demonstrated that I would have to endure some growing pains. I had left behind the friendships and lifestyle that had served as my escape from the violence in my home. Unfortunately, my ward did not seem to offer the comfort of new friendships to fill in the gaps. I didn’t feel accepted and was ready to return to my old way of life when a missionary challenged me to stay true to my baptismal covenants. I reluctantly recommitted myself, but I felt as though I was hanging on to a rope that was slipping through my fingers.
Soon afterward I was called to be Laurel class president. I felt very inadequate; there were several Laurels in the ward who were far more qualified. When my new calling was announced, one of the girls in the ward expressed her dissatisfaction. “How could they call you?” she said. “You hardly attend church. What do you know?”
She was right; I didn’t know anything. I felt sure my calling would drive many of the Laurels to inactivity—including me. The whole situation seemed too much to bear. If anyone was at the end of her rope, I was.
When I met with my class adviser, Marlene Evans, I told her that someone had made a huge error. However, she assured me that I had been called for a reason. She began to work tirelessly with me, and I went to her home on a regular basis to learn my responsibilities. With her encouragement, I could eventually conduct a meeting without my knees knocking together.
Once Sister Evans gave me a card that read, “When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.” She indicated that the rope represented life, and that by not taking righteous actions, we let life slip through our fingers. The knot represented the decision to hang on to the gospel and the security it brings.
I remembered that lesson throughout the coming months. I was attending high school full-time in addition to taking correspondence courses. I was working evenings and Saturdays. I paid for my own tuition, fees, books, clothes, and room and board. There were many times I felt I was at the end of my rope. Was I a super kid, doing it all and by myself? No, but I tied a knot and held on.
Today, I am a university graduate, working as a social worker. I married in the temple and have four children. They have been to the temple and have served missions. And I have served in leadership positions in the Young Women organization. Each time I do, I take every opportunity I can to share Sister Evans’s message with the youth. Her caring and her message changed my life.
I wouldn’t have the abundant blessings I enjoy today if I hadn’t learned to tie a knot and hang on.

True ministering is illustrated by an older sister in Africa who was assigned to seek out a sister who had not attended Church meetings for a long time. When she went to the sister’s home, she found that the woman had been beaten and robbed, had very little to eat, and possessed no clothes that she felt were appropriate for Sunday Church meetings. The woman assigned to minister to her brought a listening ear, produce from her garden, scriptures to read, and friendship. The “missing” sister soon came back to church and now holds a calling because she knows she is loved and valued.

Last week I broke my arm. My neighbor who is a nurse told us that we needed to make a splint for my arm to protect it on the way to the hospital. She asked me if we had a few magazines we could use. My mom ran and got four Friend magazines, and my neighbor used them to make a splint by tying them around my arm with yarn. We had to wait a very long time in the hospital, so I was able to read my Friend magazines. I read a lot of stories, and one of them was about a boy in the hospital. I was comforted by the stories and the priesthood blessing I was given. I felt at peace. I love the Friend.Macey I., age 7, Minnesota

While taking part in Sunday meetings a couple of weeks ago, I had the chance to meet a brother who was attending for the first time after many years of being away. He was accompanied by his wife, who was not a member of the Church.
When I asked him why he had decided to return, he replied, “My friend Fernando and this good bishop invited me to come, and I did. I found the Church many years ago, and I have a small flame still burning within my heart. It may not be strong, but it is there.”
I concluded, “Well, as your brethren, we shall blow that flame together to keep it alive.” Then we gave each other a hug.

I have seen it in my travels across the world. In a city of more than 10 million people, I spoke to the Latter-day Saints gathered by the thousands in conference. It was held in a large sports arena.
Before the meeting began, I noticed a handsome young man sitting on the front row. He was surrounded by others who, like him, were better dressed than most of those around them. I asked the General Authority of the Church near me who the men were. He whispered that it was the mayor of the city and his staff.
As I walked to my car after the meeting, I was surprised to see the mayor waiting to greet me, flanked by his staff. He stepped forward, extended his hand to me, and said, “I thank you for coming to our city and to our country. We are grateful for what you do to build up your people. With such people and such families, we could create the harmony and the prosperity we want for our people.”
I saw in that moment that he was one of the honest in heart placed by God in power among His children. We are a tiny minority among the citizens of that great city and nation. The mayor knew little of our doctrine and few of our people. Yet God had sent him the message that Latter-day Saints, under covenant to trust God and His authorized servants, would become a light to his people.

Adam was a cool, popular, good-looking sports captain at our high school in Brisbane, Australia. He was the guy every girl seemed to have a secret crush on. We became friends, and he would often ask me questions about being a Latter-day Saint. He respected my decision not to swear or drink alcohol like the majority of our peers did.
As we got to know each other better, I started to uncover the person underneath Adam’s popular, athletic shell. I saw something more in him that I didn’t see in most other guys. He had more respect for my beliefs, and he wanted to understand rather than mock my standards. He even stopped drinking and swearing. But I was still a little scared to present the beliefs of the Church openly to him. I was afraid he would think I was preaching or trying to convert him. Although I hoped deep inside that he would someday accept the gospel, I didn’t want to scare him away.
Sometimes I took Adam to sacrament meetings, firesides, and other Church activities. One day as we drove home from a fireside, he asked me why I didn’t tell him more about the Church. He had felt something stirring inside and wanted to know more, and I knew I should be doing more to help him.
As time went on, I made a greater effort to explain gospel principles to Adam. He was open and always respectful, but he brushed away the idea of baptism because he knew the contention it would create between him and his parents.
My friends and family thought it was good that I tried to share the gospel with Adam but didn’t seem to think he’d ever actually get baptized. I tried to keep him interested in the Church, but I really couldn’t see his baptism happening either. Still, my hope that he would someday take that step wouldn’t go away. I received strength and assurance from Heavenly Father that if I didn’t give up on Adam the Spirit would help him and bring him to baptism. After high school I moved away, and we went on with our separate lives.
Sometime after I left, Adam decided to take the missionary discussions. It was a slow and sometimes difficult process, but Adam finally decided to join the Church. His parents’ hearts were miraculously softened. It was like a dream come true. I wrote about it in my journal:
“I feel like all the prayers I’ve ever prayed, all the discouragement and worry and sorrow and whatever I’ve been through over Adam with the Church is all gone and was completely worth it because of how things are now! The Lord’s plan is so perfect and amazing. What a confirmation of the Lord’s perfect knowledge and timing. I was so impatient and faithless at times, but amidst all of that, God knew exactly what He was doing. This experience just brings me closer to the Lord, makes my faith in Him stronger, my love for Him more real and deep.”
Adam is now a faithful member of the Church, and he has already influenced many lives for good, especially those of his friends and family. My experience with Adam has taught me that it is not up to us to judge who will accept the gospel and who won’t. The gospel is not only for some select people. It is for everyone. Early in my friendship with Adam, I did not believe he would ever get baptized. But Heavenly Father knew. He knows who will accept His gospel, and He prepares their hearts and provides a way. All we need to do is never let an opportunity to share the gospel pass us by.
Don’t ever be scared to share your testimony.

I underwent an operation on September 24, 2018, and had many people by my side taking care of me. A few days after the operation and being discharged, while at home, I felt a lot of fever inside me. I visited the clinic again, and after several tests, they found that during the surgery to remove the colon tumor, they had left a small hole causing the fever. I developed sepsis because no hole was supposed to remain after the operation. I had to stay in the clinic for one more week.
On the third day of being hospitalized, I felt extremely sad. I prayed to Heavenly Father and asked many questions. After finishing my prayer and shedding many tears, there was a knock on the door of my room, and to my surprise, it was the two missionaries who were attending my ward at that time. Seeing me crying, they prayed with and encouraged me. I told them about the prayer I had made and how the Lord had sent these two messengers to me.
Thanks to my Heavenly Father, I overcame the sepsis and moved on to the next stage, which, although difficult, was a true miracle. I had to undergo chemotherapy, and when I received the first treatment, I suffered another health setback. A port was inserted to administer the chemotherapy, and the doctor who placed it put it in too high, causing me to have four embolisms and two pulmonary infarctions. My oncologist couldn’t explain how I had survived the embolisms and infarctions. I told her that I believed God was keeping me alive because I still had important work to do for Him.

May I impose upon you for a moment to express appreciation for something that happened to me some time ago, years ago. I was suffering from an ulcer condition that was becoming worse and worse. We had been touring a mission; my wife, Joan, and I were impressed the next morning that we should get home as quickly as possible, although we had planned to stay for some other meetings.

On the way across the country, we were sitting in the forward section of the airplane. Some of our Church members were in the next section. As we approached a certain point en route, someone laid his hand upon my head. I looked up; I could see no one. That happened again before we arrived home, again with the same experience. Who it was, by what means or what medium, I may never know, except I knew that I was receiving a blessing that I came a few hours later to know I needed most desperately.

As soon as we arrived home, my wife very anxiously called the doctor. It was now about 11 o’clock at night. He called me to come to the telephone, and he asked me how I was; and I said, “Well, I am very tired. I think I will be all right.” But shortly thereafter, there came massive hemorrhages which, had they occurred while we were in flight, I wouldn’t be here today talking about it.

I know that there are powers divine that reach out when all other help is not available. We see that manifest down in the countries we speak of as the underprivileged countries where there is little medical aid and perhaps no hospitals. If you want to hear of great miracles among these humble people with simple faith, you will see it among them when they are left to themselves. Yes, I know that there are such powers.

President Hinckley went on to discuss with the youth the importance of staying away from pornography and sexual sin. About pornography he warned, “Stay away from it. It is exciting, but it will destroy you. It will warp your senses. It will build within you an appetite that you will do anything to appease.”
Later in his address President Hinckley spoke of sexual sin. “I plead with you to be careful, to stand safely back from the cliff of sin over which it is so easy to fall. … Keep yourselves clean from the dark and disappointing evil of sexual transgression.”
One young man was very impressed with the prophet’s counsel to avoid such sins. The inspiring words of the prophet helped him begin the process of repentance.
“My life has been full of sexual transgression and pornography,” he wrote. “So when I saw the fireside of the B’s, I felt the prophet was talking right to me. I needed to change my life; it was not going the way it should. This counsel, and my willingness to change and come unto the Lord, was very great. So I did.”