Gospel Story Finder

A small note on the keyboard read, “This computer is reserved for Samuel at 5:00 a.m.” In response to his stake president’s challenge for the stake to index one million names, 14-year-old Samuel B. of Utah started getting up at 5:00 a.m. so that he could index before school. With one computer in the home and seven siblings with homework to do, Samuel had to sacrifice some sleep in order to get time on the computer.
But Samuel’s enthusiasm spread to the rest of his family. Soon his brother Nathan sacrificed basketball time and his sister Ivyllyn sacrificed reading time in order to index. “I’ve never been challenged as much by my children,” Samuel’s father says. “Until they got involved, I thought indexing was hard. They taught me that it could be easy and fun.” The following New Year’s Eve, the children were rushing to finish their yearly indexing goals before midnight.

When I was nine years old, we lived in Fillmore, Utah. One rainy day, my mom, my two sisters, and I left for Kanab, Utah, to help my great-granny. We were on a winding road where you can’t see what is coming toward you until it is right there. The rain started pouring so hard that it was even harder to see. We had to keep driving because there were no places to pull over. I asked Mom if I should say a prayer. She said yes, so I did. I asked Heavenly Father to let the rain slow down until we got across Bear Valley. After a few seconds, the rain came down only very lightly and almost stopped. When we turned onto Highway 89, the rain picked up again, but we could see. We felt good about continuing our trip.
This year, we moved to Price, Utah. It started raining really hard while we were trying to load the moving truck. I went into my empty bedroom and asked Heavenly Father to let the rain quit until we were finished. It did quit, and we even had some sun. I told my parents what I had done, and Mom cried and hugged me because she remembered about Bear Valley, too. It didn’t rain again until we left Fillmore with all our things loaded.
I have a strong testimony of the power of prayer. I know that Heavenly Father listens to children. I will be a deacon soon, and I know I will need to use prayer constantly to help me fulfill my duties. And I know that He will be there and will listen to me.Kass Esplin, age 11Price, Utah

I relate a story of a young man of great potential. I first became acquainted with him while serving as his stake president. He was intelligent and confident, a good athlete, tall and handsome with a keen sense of humor, and even an Eagle Scout. He was a leader among his peers and served a successful mission, returning home to further his education. He received his Bachelor's degree from Brigham Young University and in the process fell in love and married a beautiful young woman in the Salt Lake Temple. He entered another institution of higher learning and obtained a Juris Doctorate. His hard work and diligence were rewarded with an outstanding business opportunity with a prestigious law firm. Life was bright and exciting!
He had it all! A wonderful wife, the perfect job, the gospel and two beautiful children. He had done all that anyone could expect from a worthy priesthood holder of his age. However, over the next few years, I detected changes in his personality. He began to be somewhat combative, arrogant, prideful, and not as tolerant of other's shortcoming. His testimony showed signs of waning as he questioned the doctrines of the church--doctrines that he previously embraced. And despite the best efforts of those who loved him, I watch him gradually cast off his stable anchor and drift into a stormy sea on his own merits. This young man thought he could ascend that corporate ladder faster by compromising his principles, after all, he was in control. Then came the social drinking, accompanied by improper relationships with women in the work place, and over the next few years, his boat capsized, if you will, his anchor was gone! He lost his eternal family, his testimony, his employment and his ability to have the companionship of the Holy Spirit. Now he is a broken man left to wallow in his own miserable sin.

Two shovels full of sand were poised in front of the slowly churning cement mixer, and two sets of eyes watched carefully the gray sludge sloshing rhythmically inside. Although one set of eyes belonged to a dark-haired 16-year-old from El Salvador and the other to a fair-haired 22-year-old from the United States, both held that clear, steady gaze of common understanding. Both knew that that gray sludge was worth its weight in gold. It was helping to build sturdy cement block houses that signaled hope for families in need. And it was helping to cement ties between Latter-day Saint youth from two different nations, and between these youth and the grief-stricken people of yet a third nation.
The youth—more than 30 young men from El Salvador and upper Guatemala and nine students from Brigham Young University—were working in Guatemala with a host of adult leaders from local branches and stakes, in addition to health and full-time missionaries from around the world. The group included about 55 people in all. Their task—to rebuild homes destroyed by the February 4 earthquake.
Their task was not easy. The terrible terremoto, or earthquake, destroyed about 20 percent of the country’s residential buildings, claimed more than 2,000 lives, and left an estimated one million people homeless. Church members were included in this number. President Guillermo Enrique Rittscher of the Guatemala City Stake, for example, reported 142 homeless families.
Statistics, however, do not paint as clearly the picture of human drama as the scene that greeted the volunteers when they arrived two months after the quake. Guatemala City had become a tent city. Large families were bravely trying to work out of small tents amid a cold, steady rain. They had begun to build portable plywood homes, but one room was inadequate for some of the large families. And in addition to all this, the water lines had been broken and much of the water was feared to be contaminated. It had to be boiled before use—not a simple task in a tent.
It was in these circumstances that mission president Robert B. Arnold and Harold B. Brown, Regional Representative of the Twelve for Mexico and Central America, organized the project and obtained the clearance for calling work missionaries from El Salvador and upper Guatemala to help build earthquake-resistant houses.
The young men who volunteered ranged in age from 15 to 18. They postponed their own work, their studies, and other activities to help.
“We really appreciate these young workers. We truly feel that the Church is going to be in fabulous hands as these boys grow and mature and take their positions of leadership in their various wards here in Guatemala and El Salvador,” said Carol Lyons, a health service missionary who helped pilot the program. “They truly love the gospel and all of its facets, and they really want to serve our Heavenly Father. This is their main purpose in being here—so that they can help their brothers in building these homes. But likewise, they can be prepared and go forth as proselyting missionaries in the months to come.”
The program had already begun when the BYU volunteers, most of them building construction majors, offered to share their expertise for eight weeks with the young workers. With the direction of Lon Wallace, their adviser and an instructor in BYU’s building construction and technology program, and the sponsorship of the BYU Benson Agriculture and Food Institute, nine volunteers loaded a van with hard hats, donated tools, and sleeping bags and headed for Guatemala and life in tent city.
The workers were located in two areas—Guatemala City and nearby Patzicia. They lived in tents alongside the members.
“You don’t understand what living in a tent is until you can experience a downpour of an inch or two and feel the dampness and the wetness of trying to build a fire to boil your water and wash your dishes,” said Boyd Lyons, a health service missionary who helped pilot the program. “The wind blows every day. Heavy fog rolls in every day and stays until 9:00 A.M. the next day. You can cut it with a knife.”
Complaints of any kind were scarce, however, although the days were long and hard, beginning at 5:30 in the morning. After a spiritual meeting with scripture reading and prayer, breakfast was served. Then the truck was loaded with needed supplies, and the volunteers were ready to start work at 7:00 A.M. Sometimes they took lunch with them, so they didn’t return to camp until 5:00 or 6:00 in the evening. After dinner there were English classes to teach or to attend and tracting with the full-time missionaries to do. Finally, many weary young men eased their bodies, aching from hard work, into damp sleeping bags.
The work was made hard, in part, by a shortage of materials. The workers had only one two-ton truck to transport all of the sand, gravel, and sometimes water for their day’s work. While one crew mixed the cement, another would go back to load up with sand and gravel for more. Because the water lines had been broken, many of the work sites had no water. So workers searched in the constant drizzle and filled 55-gallon drums from rivers, wells, and anywhere there was some water so that the cement mixing could go on.
“We ended up working hard. In fact, as I thought about it, I know that nobody could pay me enough money to do that kind of work. I’d do it for free for these people, but nobody could ever pay me enough to do work like that,” one volunteer said thoughtfully.
As the time neared for the BYU volunteers to leave, the young Central American workers showed their appreciation in ways that broke down all language barriers. One young man organized a party with decorations, poems, talks, and a special meal with Guatemalan goodies prepared by one of the local Relief Society groups. At the end of the celebration, he threw his arms around one of the tall BYU students and broke into tears at the thought of their leaving. And so the BYU group left to resume their lives with a new perspective. But their tools, their expertise in building, and, most important, their testimonies stayed.
“Words are inadequate for expressing our gratitude,” one Guatemalan woman told Brother Wallace. “Only the Lord can thank you, and he will in time.”
Following disaster, the Guatemalan Saints begin life anew, with a stronger faith in God and in their fellowmen. Within concrete walls, their gratitude reverberates and grows with the warmth that can only be inspired by love in action.

The following is an account of a young girl who grew up in a small rural community with limited educational opportunities. The first day of her senior year she found herself without friends, entering the high school in what seemed to her to be a big city. Having lost her way and arriving late, her anxiety was only intensified after she quickly observed that she not only didn’t know her way around, but a glance downward told her that her clothing was different, and she felt different in a most uncomfortable way.

It was at the close of that day, and the following morning, and each day thereafter that she poured out the yearnings of her heart to her Father in heaven, pleading for the ability to be the kind of a person worthy of friends—lots of friends, boyfriends and girl friends—and making a promise to endeavor to keep all of the commandments in return.

Days and weeks went by. Fall gave way to winter, and while friendships were forming through her sincere respect extended to each student, still there was a need unfulfilled. Then one Sunday afternoon what seemed like an answer to her prayer came. The telephone rang and the voice of one of the special boys at school enthusiastically extended an invitation to her to attend the Sunday movie. Oh, the yearning, the prayers, the promises, the excitement, the conflict, and now the decision. Could this be an answer to her prayers—a Sunday movie? The decision was quickly but painfully made; the invitation was declined, the response cheerful but final. Oh, the torment. Would he ever call again?

A young girl poured out the yearnings of her heart to her Father in heaven, obeyed his commandments, and trusted in the outcome. That particular young man never called again, but in due time her prayers were answered with many friends, boyfriends and girl friends, and as that school year drew to a close, she was nominated by the studentbody to receive a special award for friendliness. Many lessons had been learned that year, but the lesson of greatest importance she expressed in these words:
“Our Father in heaven loves us.
He knows how we feel.
He listens to the yearnings of our heart.
He strengthens us when we’re discouraged.
And he rewards us—in due time.”

Some time ago, while serving as bishop of a YSA ward here on campus, I was helping a young lady with some questions she was dealing with. I used Lehi’s vision of the tree of life in chapter 8 of 1 Nephi as a reference to help her with some of her concerns. When we finished, she wondered out loud how come she was never taught to use the stories in the Book of Mormon in current, real-life challenges. She said her family read from the book often and that she had attended seminary and her Young Women’s classes and that she had a testimony of the Book of Mormon and knew it is true, but she had never realized its potential to be used in her everyday life. So, I wondered if others have the same concern. Let me walk through some ideas that may help you understand what I mean.

The Twelve Days of Christmas Mystery in Tustin, California, was perplexing many of the townspeople. Ten widows in town opened their doors for 11 nights straight to find gifts left on their doorsteps—but the gift-givers had vanished.
Soon the widows were calling their friends to try to solve the mystery. Who was leaving all the goodies? But nobody knew anything about the presents, except that they kept coming. First it was a “partridge in a pear tree” attached to a can of pears. The next evening it was “two turtle doves” nestled in a braided wreath attached to a jar of jelly. Then “three French hens” made of calico, covering a can of chicken, arrived. And the presents kept coming.
On the 12th night the widows were greeted by the sweet sound of Christmas carols outside their windows—and the mystery was solved! The Young Women of the Tustin Third Ward, Orange California Stake, had been playing pixie for the widows with some delivery help from the Scouts in the ward. The girls presented the widows with final gifts of large poinsettias and handmade drums filled with homemade cookies, and left understanding the mystery of the Christmas spirit a little bit better.

In 1999, Sister Marci Barr came to the Japan Nagoya Mission from Columbus, Ohio, USA. Japanese was not easy for her, but she was tenacious. Once she learned to communicate, she never stopped talking with people about the gospel.

Great promises are made to faithful, persistent, and tenacious missionaries who open their mouths with boldness and love and who work with all their might in the ways the Lord has set forth (see D&C 31:7). But some missionaries become fearful of rejection and let their fears overcome their loving boldness.

Not Sister Barr! She found and taught, and she taught and found all of her mission.

On the last day of her mission, Sister Barr was traveling to the mission home in Nagoya. That night I would interview her and tell her that she had done a wonderful job. The next day she would go home.

As she traveled, she saw a group of high school–age girls talking together on the subway. She approached them and asked if she could visit with them. She spoke of the gospel and its Restoration. Then she gave a missionary tract to one of the girls who seemed interested and told her of the sister missionaries who could teach her the gospel.

Then Sister Barr came to the mission home and had her interview, never telling me of her experience on the subway. To her it was unremarkable. She was simply doing what she knew was right, all the way to the end. Perhaps this is the best definition of gospel tenacity I know: No matter what, continue to have faith in God and His promises, and do what is right all the time, regardless of who knows.

Sister Barr returned home to Columbus. There in a student ward she met her husband, and together they are raising a family in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

The girl on the subway—Hitomi Kitayama—was taught by the sister missionaries. Hitomi persevered and displayed her own form of tenacity as she embraced the truths of the gospel, overcoming opposition from family members and her own doubts.

We met Hitomi nearly six years later at a mission conference in Tokyo, where she was serving as a missionary. She told us of meeting Sister Barr on the subway and of her subsequent conversion to the gospel.

After her mission she met and married another returned missionary, Shimpei Yamashita. Interestingly, Shimpei is the son of a man whom Elder Randy Checketts and I taught in the summer of 1971 while I served my first mission to Japan.

A new girl joined our school class in the middle of the year. She looked and spoke differently than the other students. She had moved around a lot and had a hard time making friends. She had sad things happening in her family and came to school crying on some days. I knew I wanted to try to help this girl, but I wasn’t exactly sure what I should do because she did not always like to talk with other children. I prayed about what I should do and could feel the Holy Ghost whisper that I should just try to be her friend.
I helped her with her school-work, and told her that our Heavenly Father gave her special talents for her to use and share with others. I invited her to play with me and other students at recess. A few months later, she said I was the first friend she ever had.
She had to move again, and I felt really sad. I asked the school secretary to send a letter to her at her new address. In the letter, I told my friend I would miss her and that she would always be my friend. I drew pictures of us playing together and reminded her of some of her talents. I told her she should be brave and try to make a new friend because she could help someone else. I prayed that she would find a friend in her new school and that the other children would be nice to her.
I know that Heavenly Father loves all of His children, and I am thankful that He helps us to help each of them.

Mi Sook tossed her long black braid across her shoulder. Slipping out of her shoes, she yanked open the front door to her apartment. “Mama, I’m home!”
The stifling Korean summer heat followed her into the apartment. A battered fan purred in a corner. Grandmama sat in front of it, her eyes closed as she nodded in the heat.
“I’m glad you’re home,” Mi Sook’s mother said as she came from behind the paper screen that divided their one room from the nook that was the kitchen. “Grandmama isn’t feeling well in this heat, so you must help me with dinner. Please go to the roof and bring down some kimchi (spiced, pickled vegetables).”
Mi Sook sighed. It’s so hot on the roof! she thought, wiping her brow. But heat makes the kimchi ripe. She licked her lips, anxious for dinner.
The hall was deserted as she climbed the stairs to the roof. Waves of heat rippled the moist air. Mi Sook loved Seoul, especially the way it looked from the roof. Encircled by mountains, its buildings and markets created an ocean of color.
She found her family’s kimchi pot sweltering with others in a corner. Prying open the lid, she breathed in the tangy scent.
“Hello, Mi Sook. It looks like you’re getting ready for dinner.”
Mi Sook started, looking up. A pair of wide blue eyes smiled down at her. “Sister Miller! I didn’t see you there!”
Sister Miller stepped forward toward the kimchi pot. Her nose wrinkled as she bent down and took a sniff, then her blue eyes turned watery. Mi Sook smiled. She wasn’t sure the missionary liked what she smelled.
“It is hot on the roof!” Mi Sook scooped kimchi into the pot her mother had sent with her. “Why do you stand up here?”
“I’m waiting for a friend,” Sister Miller said, running a hand through her damp hair. Drops of sweat beaded her brow. “I have to wave at her when she gets off the bus so that she can see where we live. We’re teaching her about our church, and she’s coming to dinner and for family home evening tonight.”
Mi Sook watched the sun inch toward the western horizon. “Family home evening? What’s that?”
Sister Miller’s eyes brightened. “Family home evening is a wonderful thing, Mi Sook. Heavenly Father knows how important families are, so He has told us to put aside one night each week for our families to be together. It’s a time to learn about the gospel, play games, laugh, and even have refreshments!”
Mi Sook smiled. She didn’t know much about the gospel Sister Miller always talked about, or about the church she loved, but Mi Sook thought the idea of spending time like that with her family was great. “Family home evening sounds nice, Sister Miller.”
Sister Miller nodded. “It is, Mi Sook.” Then she grinned. “How would you like to join us tonight for family home evening?”
A city bus rattled to a stop below them. People poured out as Sister Miller craned her neck, then waved at a young woman who looked up from the crowd.
“I’ll ask my mother,” Mi Sook said as she headed toward the stairway with her kimchi. “I’d like to learn more about this family home evening!”
That night, Mi Sook could hardly finish her dinner. She gulped down her rice and kimchi, then hurried to help her mother clean up the dishes.
Grandmama smiled when Mother told her that Mi Sook was going to the missionaries’ apartment for a party. “How nice,” Grandmama whispered, nodding her head. “Those missionaries are happy girls.”
Mi Sook enjoyed family home evening that night. Sister Miller and Sister Chadwick sang songs, showing Mi Sook and their friend how to read the music in an English hymnbook. The missionaries told a flannel-board story about a young man named Joseph who became a prophet. Mi Sook was excited, she’d never heard such a story before.
Sister Miller told them how important families were. “Heavenly Father wants all families to be together forever,” she said. Then the sisters sang another song, one about families being together. Mi Sook didn’t understand all the English words, but her heart was happy.
“Here, Mi Sook,” Sister Chadwick said after the closing prayer, “have a brownie. I made them this afternoon with the chocolate my mother sent me from home!”
Mi Sook smiled as the dark, sugary brownie flooded her mouth. Its sweetness overwhelmed her. She couldn’t take another bite.
“It’s a little sweet isn’t it?” Sister Chadwick looked at her and laughed. “I guess you’re not used to sugar, as we are. Why don’t you wrap it up in this napkin and take the rest home.”
Mi Sook smiled. “I may not be used to your brownies,” she said, “but I like your family home evening very much. It makes me feel good inside. And happy, like you. Thank you for inviting me tonight.”
As Mi Sook walked toward the door, she noticed pictures of the missionaries’ families sitting on a small table. She looked at a picture of Sister Miller with her family. “Will my family be together forever?” Mi Sook asked.
“They certainly can be, Mi Sook,” Sister Miller replied, wrapping her arm around Mi Sook’s shoulder.
“And the story you told tonight, about the boy Joseph—that’s an important story isn’t it?”
Sister Miller nodded.
Mi Sook smiled as she opened the door and slipped into her shoes. “I thought so. And family home evening is important too. May I bring Mother and Grandmama to family home evening next week?”
“We’d love to have all of you come,” Sister Miller and Sister Chadwick both told her.
Mi Sook smiled as she walked down the hall. She was sure that Mother and Grandmama would enjoy family home evening and learning about being a forever family.

“I’m not used to talking much,” Kim’s father began, “except to my cows. But I would like to say that I’m proud of my daughter. I don’t tell her that often, though. You see, I was raised in a very strict home. My mother died when I was younger than Kim, and though my father was a wonderful man, he believed that showing affection made you weak. I don’t remember that he ever hugged me in his life. I guess that’s why I feel awkward about showing affection to Kim. But I’d like to tell a little story that I hope will show that I do love her.
“Kim was born in the winter months, and she caught pneumonia when she was only two months old. I tried to do the household chores because her mother had to care for her constantly. One night it was particularly hard for her to breathe. I took my little girl in my arms and blessed her and prayed for her … as hard as I’ve ever prayed for anything. Then, because her mother was totally exhausted, I sat in the rocker next to the stove and put my baby on her stomach across my lap and rocked her all that night. The doctor came the next morning and said that my rocking her in that position had given Kim’s little lungs a good night’s rest and that he thought that she was going to get well. So you see, that little girl is very special to me—she always has been, and she always will be.”

From her bedroom window, Sandra spied a robin tugging at a worm. She ran to the kitchen and told her mother, “There’s a robin in the yard, and I’m going to catch it!”
Sandra scurried out the door and bounded toward the robin. The bird flew away. Sandra thought, I didn’t go fast enough. So when the robin landed in the yard again, Sandra raced as fast as her legs would go. But the robin was in the air before Sandra got halfway to it.
Sandra pushed her hands into her pockets. If I could fly, I could catch that robin, she thought.
Seeing it perched in the tree, she called, “Here, birdie. Here, robin.”
But the robin just flew to a higher branch, where Sandra couldn’t see it at all. Sandra was disappointed. She sat under the tree and squeezed her eyes shut and said, “Heavenly Father, please help me. I just want to see the pretty robin up close. I won’t hurt it, I promise.
Opening her eyes again, Sandra thought, Maybe if I had a worm, that robin would come to get it.
Sandra used her sandbox shovel to dig in the dirt near the porch steps. She turned the dirt over, as she’d seen Daddy do, and found a small, wriggly worm. Sandra picked it up and held it in the palm of her hand. Then she went over to the tree and held out her hand and called, “Here’s a worm, robin! Come and get it.”
But the robin didn’t come.
Sandra sat down on the porch step. She tossed the worm to the ground. A tear ran down her cheek.
Just then the robin landed in the yard. Sandra just sat there. She knew that if she moved, it would fly away again.
The robin hopped closer. Sandra held her breath as it hopped very close to her, snatched the worm, and flew away.
Sandra clapped her hands and laughed out loud. Heavenly Father had answered her prayer. She couldn’t catch a bird, but she could watch it up close if she sat very still and was very quiet. She laughed again and went inside to tell her mother.

During the January 2017 worldwide devotional for young adults, I challenged those watching to increase their testimony of the Savior by taking time each week to:
Study everything Jesus said and did as recorded in the Old Testament.
Study His laws as recorded in the New Testament.
Study His doctrine as recorded in the Book of Mormon.
Study His words as recorded in the Doctrine and Covenants.
I promised those listening that if they would proceed to learn all they can about Jesus Christ, their love for Him and for God’s laws would grow beyond what they could currently imagine.
What I didn’t mention during this address was that I knew this promise was true because I was in the midst of completing this very same assignment myself for the first time.
On December 1, 2016, I obtained a new set of scriptures and proceeded to begin the same assignment that I would later extend to young adults in January. When I finished the assignment six weeks later, I had looked up and marked more than 2,200 citations from the four books of scripture.1
After six weeks of study, President Nelson completed his assignment.
For me, to be able to accomplish this assignment was just thrilling!
Something I found to be most insightful was that the Savior was telling us about Himself through these various periods of time—Old Testament, New Testament, the Restoration period, and our day. In all books of scripture, the story is the same and the Storyteller is the same.
I have devoted much of my 93 years to learning about the Savior, but rare are the occasions when I have been able to learn as much as I did over this six-week study period. In fact, I learned so much about Him from this study that I am planning to share much of it in other upcoming addresses that I am currently preparing.2
Upon beginning this assignment, I didn’t expect that this study would help me to receive a new testimony of the divinity of the work of Joseph Smith—but it did! The revelations recorded by Joseph Smith and the insights found in the Bible are amazingly consistent. It was so enlightening for me to see this in my study.
Joseph Smith wouldn’t have possibly had time to correlate and cross-reference with the Bible at the rapid rate at which he was translating the Book of Mormon—but it’s all here!
So not only do I now have a greater testimony of the Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, but I also have a reaffirmation of my absolute conviction that the system Joseph Smith had for translating the Book of Mormon was a gift from God.
President Nelson studied over 2,200 scriptures about Jesus Christ and His teachings.
Now, I realize some of you are probably thinking to yourselves that you couldn’t possibly have time to complete an assignment like this.
I know how you feel. I thought the same thing of myself—that there’s no way I can have time to do all of this. I needed to remind myself that a comment like this is not a faith-promoted comment. A faith-promoted comment would be “I know I don’t have time for this, but I’m going to make time for it. And I’ll fulfill it with what time I have.”
Each of us who takes this challenge will finish in our own time frames. For me, much of the joy of this came from getting it all done in just six weeks. This intense study over a relatively short period of time allowed me to appreciate the complementary nature of the learnings to be found in the Old Testament, the Book of Mormon, the New Testament, and the Doctrine and Covenants.
To those of you who feel you don’t have time, if you will make a sacrifice, you will be well rewarded and very, very grateful for the change of perspective, increased knowledge, and improved depth of your conversion. I know this is true because I have seen the same rewards in my own life.

Illustration by Brad Teare
It was past her bedtime, but Mia wasn’t in bed. She was sitting on the floor of her room, thinking about something Sister Duval had read in Primary: “The time will come when no man or woman will be able to stand on borrowed light.”1
“A testimony is like a light inside of us,” Sister Duval had explained. “And each of needs one of our own. Then we can be strong when life is hard and Satan tempts us.”
Mia leaned her head against her bed. “I want a testimony that the gospel is true,” she thought. But how exactly did you get a testimony? She knew that praying was part of it.
“I’ll pray,” she decided. She would pray and wouldn’t stop until something happened to let her know the Church was true. She was ready to pray all night if she had to!
She got on her knees. “Dear Heavenly Father,” she whispered, “I want to know if the Church is true. I want to feel it in my heart and just know.”
Mia waited. She didn’t feel anything except for the soft feeling she usually felt when she prayed. What was she doing wrong? Where was her testimony?
She had been on her knees for what seemed like a long time when the door to her room opened a little and her dad peeked in.
“I saw the light under the door,” he said. “Are you up reading again?” Then he saw tears on Mia’s cheeks. He knelt down and put his arm around her. “What’s wrong?”
She was quiet for a minute. Then she asked, “Daddy, how do you get a testimony?”
Daddy hugged her tight. “That’s a good question. Wanting a testimony is one of the first steps.”
Mia felt the lump in her throat start to go away.
“Getting a testimony doesn’t usually happen with one prayer. And even when you have a testimony, you need to keep working on it.”
“But where does a testimony come from?” Mia asked.
“A testimony comes from the Holy Ghost,” Daddy said. “Have you ever felt warm and good during family home evening or at church?”
Mia thought about that. “When you gave me a special blessing before school started, I felt good.” She thought some more. “And I always feel warm inside when I hear President Monson talk in general conference. And when I’m nice to my friends or when I’m reading my scriptures, I feel good then too.”
Daddy smiled. “Those feelings are the Holy Ghost speaking to you. He gives you those feelings when you do something that’s right or when you hear something that’s true.”
“I feel warm and happy now,” Mia said. “Is that the Holy Ghost?”
Daddy hugged her again. “Yes. He’s telling you that the things we’re talking about are true. And that’s how you get a testimony.”
When Mia went to bed later, she didn’t think she had a whole testimony yet, but she still had that good, warm feeling that what Daddy told her was true. She knew this feeling was just the beginning.
Mia snuggled into her warm blanket and closed her eyes. Just before she drifted off to sleep, she whispered, “Thank Thee, Heavenly Father, for helping me have a testimony. And thank Thee for my daddy.”

A dear friend whom I admire greatly is particularly gifted with lovingly balancing her time. She always has been able to pay attention to what matters most, regardless of everything else going on around her. She once told me that the most important person to her is the one she is with at any particular moment...whether it is the mailman, the grocery clerk, or the next-door neighbor.

In the midst of the chaos and confusion of getting her six children off to school in the mornings, I recall seeing her stop everything and gather her children around the front door for a morning prayer. I remember picking her up for a meeting one busy morning when it was very apparent she hadn't taken the time to do her breakfast dishes or pick up the living room. Instead, I watched as she quietly and sweetly finished reading a picture book to her three year old before we rushed off to our meeting. She understood that anxiously engaged does not have to mean hectically engaged or frantically engaged. She has been a perfect example to me of "deep, quiet commitment" because of the way I have watched her use her time in serving the Lord and His purposes.

When my sister, Nancy, and I were teenagers, we regularly attended our local church. But we began to feel that something was missing, so we decided to investigate other churches.
That summer my sister and brother visited a booth at the Canadian National Exhibition, where missionaries were showing a movie called Ancient America Speaks. After watching the movie, my sister and brother signed up to receive a free copy of the Book of Mormon. I can still remember the excitement in my sister’s voice as she announced to my mother and me that Christ had visited the American continent.
The missionaries brought a Book of Mormon to my sister and asked her if she would like to learn more about the Church. That was how we were both taught the gospel.
More than a year after Nancy and I were baptized, she began dating a young man named Luke. He had a bubbly personality and seemed to radiate love and excitement. At the time Nancy met him, he was looking for direction in his life. When Nancy told him about the gospel, he was eager to take the missionary discussions. His sister, Leonarda, also was interested in being taught.
Although Luke and Leonarda agreed with most of what the missionaries taught them, they had trouble accepting that Joseph Smith was a prophet. The missionaries told them that once they gained a testimony of Joseph Smith, then everything else—the Book of Mormon, the restoration of the gospel, and the gospel principles taught by the prophets—would fall into place.
When Luke and Leonarda met with the elders again, the discussion centered on Joseph Smith. One of the elders suggested that we should each take a turn asking Heavenly Father if Joseph Smith was a prophet and then listen silently for a minute for the answer.
I won’t forget the feeling of peace that came into that room and touched each of our hearts as the Spirit bore witness to each of us that Joseph Smith was a prophet of the Lord. Luke accepted baptism, and Leonarda was baptized a few years later with her parents’ approval.
Since that night, the Spirit has borne witness to me many times of the truthfulness of other gospel principles. But this experience stands out in my mind because it was one of my first experiences with personal revelation from a Heavenly Father who loves me. Truly, for us that night, everything did fall into place.

Kendall Bean is a concert pianist who has been playing since the age of four. During high school he frequently performed with the high school orchestra and appeared as soloist in performances of Beethoven’s Second Piano Concerto and Rhapsody in Blue by Gershwin. He appeared in the Northern California Junior Bach Festival two years in a row, and in 1971 soloed in the Tabernacle with the Mormon Youth Symphony as the winner in the MIA Young Artists Festival. During 1974 he held a solo recital at BYU, won the Wakefield Award for piano performance, and appeared in the Stellar Student-Temple Hill Organ Recital Series.

Kendall had a lot going for him, and it is understandable that he had second thoughts about leaving it behind. While he was at the Mission Training Center, he found himself worrying that the Lord wouldn’t want him to pursue music after his mission. He wondered if he would have to live a completely different life-style, and if so, what his friends would think.

Kendall was fortunate to be writing to a friend who was very encouraging and supportive. “She told me that now wasn’t the time to worry about such things, and in essence, that it was only a tool of the adversary to keep me from the work I was supposed to do. She wrote that if I would serve the Lord with all my might, mind, and strength at this time in my life, when the time came to make these important decisions, I would be entitled to his help and assistance.”

As it turned out, Kendall’s worries were unfounded. The Lord didn’t want him to give up music; to the contrary, Kendall and other missionaries with musical ability were able to use their talents as a missionary tool. Proselyting activities in his mission included open houses and recitals to which many nonmembers came.

Kendall and others were amazed to find that they could practice adequately for these recitals in only an hour or two during free time while the others were playing basketball. “I found that the Lord preserved this talent for me throughout those two years, and it was there for the asking when I needed it. No one in normal life in his right mind would even have considered doing a recital with that little preparation, but when we give our all for the Lord, we can do marvelous things.”

The year after Kendall returned home, he soloed with the Utah Symphony and took second place in the Utah State Fair piano competition and in the State of Utah at the Utah Music Teachers Association competitions. (Incidentally, the person who took first place in both instances was Mack Wilberg, another returned missionary.) Kendall is presently director of the Young Adult Stake Choir in El Cerrito, California. He has received a scholarship for graduate study in music at the University of Texas at Austin.

On another occasion (with humility, I share this story) about a year after we were married, a neighbor of mine, in the same ward, was hired by the airlines and referred me to an interview for a position. According to him, they had many openings and he knew the department manager personally and would put in a good word for me. Peggy and I were so excited, especially for the travel benefits my friend spoke of. I saw myself surfing all around the world: Australia, Tahiti, Africa, anywhere and everywhere. I took up my friend's offer and went down immediately for an interview. I was hired on the spot. My dream of travel was coming to pass; I saw myself on a plane bound for Australia. The manager of the department spoke of the benefits, the pay; I felt really good. Then we talked about my work schedule. In my mind, it was a Monday-Friday job. Since I was a new recruit, I was informed that Sundays were a requirement. I was considered the low man on the totem pole. At that point, that plane that I was on, bound for Australia, crashed, taking down all of my exotic dreams of travel and surf. My countenance dropped and he noticed. He was also a member and emphasized the importance of the Sunday policy for new-hires. There was no getting out of it. I told him thank you, but I was raised in a home where strict observance of the Sabbath had become something I just couldn't sacrifice. As for my neighbor, he slowly became inactive and became heavily involved with those at work, indulging in behavior unbecoming of a true follower of the Savior.

Some years ago on fast Sunday, an elderly sister came to the pulpit to share her testimony. She lived in the city called Iquitos, which is in the Peruvian Amazon. She told us that from the time of her baptism, she had always had the goal of receiving the ordinances of the temple in Lima, Peru. She faithfully paid a full tithe and saved her meager income for years.
Her joy upon going to the temple and receiving the sacred ordinances therein was expressed in these words: “Today I can say that I finally feel ready to go through the veil. I am the happiest woman in the world; I have saved money, you have no idea for how long, to visit the temple, and after seven days on the river and 18 hours by bus, I was finally in the house of the Lord. When leaving that holy place, I said to myself, after all the sacrifice that has been required for me to come to the temple, I will not let anything make me take lightly every covenant I made; it would be a waste. This is a very serious commitment!”
I learned from this sweet sister that personal sacrifice is an invaluable force that drives our decisions and our determinations. Personal sacrifice drives our actions, our commitments, and our covenants and gives sacred things meaning.

My first encounter with a Latter-day Saint bishop occurred before I was a member of the Church. I was 17 years old and was facing the confusion, doubt, and stress that many high school seniors confront. One Saturday morning I was complaining to my best friend about my woes. Even though he had good intentions, he provided me with few answers. But he did offer what turned out to be a profound suggestion. “Sometimes when I don’t know what to do,” he said, “I talk to my bishop.”
“Your bishop? Who is he?” I asked.
“He is the head of my ward,” my friend replied.
I now recognize my next question to be a distinct prompting from the Spirit, but at the time it was the most out-of-character question I could imagine coming from my 17-year-old mouth. “Do you think he’d meet with me?” I asked.
My friend said he’d call his bishop and call me right back. An appointment was quickly made for later that morning at the bishop’s house.
I didn’t know what to expect. As I pulled up in front of the modest rambler home, I was a bit surprised at its normalcy—bikes in the driveway, nicely mowed lawn. I was even further surprised by the man in the nice, casual shirt who greeted me at the door. He smiled and said, “Hi, you must be Joe. I’m Bishop Maxwell. Please come in.” As we walked to his small, in-home office, my mind was trying to justify it all. “Shouldn’t the bishop’s home be somehow different?” I asked myself. “Shouldn’t he dress in a formal robe or something?”
During the next 45 minutes, what I found was a compassionate man, someone who took a sincere interest in my struggles; an inspired man willing to spend some of his precious time on a Saturday morning to help someone, anyone, of his faith or not, make decisions and draw conclusions.
More than 25 years have passed since that meeting. I don’t recall any of the specific advice the bishop imparted that morning, but I still vividly remember the amazing clarity and lightened burden I felt as I left his home. Not until many years later would I realize that meeting was one of my first experiences in feeling the Spirit.
I joined the Church later that year. My friend Bill, who had referred me to Bishop Maxwell, baptized me. Bishop Maxwell was at the baptism. I later served a mission, married a beautiful young woman in the temple with Bishop Maxwell serving as a witness, and am now raising five wonderful children.
A few years ago I was called as a bishop. While serving for several years in that capacity, I experienced some of the greatest joys I have ever known—joys of interviewing enthusiastic eight-year-olds for baptism and confirmation, of working with young men and young women as they prepared to serve missions, and of teaching about the great blessings of the temple to couples preparing for eternal marriage. I thought of Bishop Maxwell on countless occasions during that time. His influence on my life will be eternal.