Gospel Story Finder

This legacy began about 10 years ago when some Aaronic Priesthood holders in the Canyon View Seventh Ward in the Orem Utah Canyon View Stake decided they wanted to earn the Genealogy merit badge, so they worked with the ward’s family history consultant to research their families and get names ready for the temple.
“We had so many names we couldn’t do them all in one trip!” their former Scoutmaster, Lani Hatch, remembers. “We had to go back four or five times to finish up the family file cards from that merit badge project.”
Young Women in the ward also became interested and found opportunities to help with family history research and to go to the temple.
Today many of the young men from that first Scout troop have already returned from their missions. Others are preparing to serve. And with each new Beehive or deacon, the interest in the temple continues.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Do. Not. Cry.
This was the pep talk I recently gave myself the day before my 30th birthday. (It was a melodramatic day, to say the least.) But crying about my birthday is not out of the ordinary for me. I’ve never been a fan of growing up.
(And, in case you’re wondering, my pep talk didn’t work.)
Shocking, really.
I would turn 30, and the world would keep spinning.
So why did I feel like it was about to end?
Well for one, I struggle with anxiety. So there’s that. But I always felt like turning 30 would seal the door to my youth forever. I felt like I hadn’t accomplished enough during my 20s. And after facing challenges during that decade, I was scared of the new responsibilities and trials heading my way (possibly motherhood, a worsening chronic illness, and who knows what else).
As my anxious thoughts spiraled, I said a prayer asking God for comfort, and I started to ponder my past decade of life as a young adult.
What had I accomplished? What had I learned? How had I changed?
And that’s when I focused in on the most important thought that came to mind:
“How did I deepen my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ during this time?”
This changed my perspective.
Being a 20-something-year-old can be a very confusing, heartbreaking, and just plain hard time. Many seem to be thinking the same thing: “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
My early 20s consisted of an ebb and flow of feelings of aimlessness, fear, loneliness, and sometimes even a sense of abandonment from Heavenly Father when my life wasn’t going the way I thought it would.
When I was 24, I felt like I was in the darkest season of my life. But words from Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf struck my soul and triggered the start of a deep change in me.
At a worldwide devotional for young adults, he said:
“When I was your age, I had no idea where my life would take me. I definitely didn’t see any dots connecting in front of me.
“But I did trust God. I listened to the advice of loving family and wise friends, and I took small steps of faith, believing that if I did the best I could in the moment, God would take care of the big picture.
“He did. …
“In Proverbs, we find this great promise: ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths’ [Proverbs 3:5–6].
“I don’t believe there is a question mark at the end of that verse. No, I think there should be an exclamation point!”1
After hearing Elder Uchtdorf’s words at 24, I committed to using this time of life to trust in the Lord.
And, six years later, on the day before I turned 30, I was hit with the profound truth that, despite the melodrama (and the actual, difficult drama) this is what young adulthood has been for me:
Sacred.
We can make young adulthood one of the most sacred seasons of our journey in mortality. It’s a time for discovery, deepening faith, true conversion, and realizing our divine identity and potential.
I can see that as I made choices to seek Jesus Christ and to keep choosing faith (especially when it was difficult), this season helped me start to understand what He has done for me—and continues to do for me.
It’s the season where I’ve had to take responsibility for my testimony.
It’s the season where I received my endowment, cherished my temple covenants, and witnessed the power that comes from attending the temple.
It’s been a season of facing questions and wrestling with Heavenly Father to find answers (even if that answer is to trust Him).
It’s a season where I may not have always recognized the Savior and Heavenly Father in my life but later saw that They were always with me.
It’s been a season of learning that the grace of Jesus Christ can always make up for my sins and imperfections as I turn to Him in humility and sincere repentance (see Ether 12:27).
It’s a season of unknowns and learning to “press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope” (2 Nephi 31:20).
Yes, young adulthood is filled with hardships. I faced stressful college courses, struggles in my career path, the heart-wrenching pains of dating, family difficulties, and other challenges that could have filled up an “end-of-the-world”–themed bingo card.
But I’ve learned that it was these hard moments that gave me an opportunity to cling to truth, choose faith, and seek the healing and enabling power of Jesus Christ—all things that ultimately made this a beautifully sacred time of life. This season is about allowing Him and Heavenly Father to refine us and help us start building the masterpiece of a life we desire.
That doesn’t sound so bad.
With our focus on Jesus Christ, we can make young adulthood—and every year beyond—a sacred space full of hope, triumph, and true joy.
That is what it’s been for me.

For their part, Toshiko and her husband, Tokichi, struggled with aspects of being Latter-day Saints—especially paying tithing. Tokichi did not make much money, and sometimes they wondered if they had enough to pay for their son’s school lunch. They were also hoping to buy a house.

After one Church meeting, Toshiko asked a missionary about tithing. “Japanese people are very poor now after the war,” she said. “Tithing is so hard for us. Must we pay?”3

The elder replied that God commanded everyone to pay tithing, and he spoke of the blessings of obeying the principle. Toshiko was skeptical—and a little angry. “This is American thinking,” she told herself.

Other missionaries encouraged her to have faith. One sister missionary promised Toshiko that paying tithing could help her family reach their goal of owning their own house. Wanting to be obedient, Toshiko and Tokichi decided to pay their tithing and trust that blessings would come.4

She and Tokichi also began to see blessings come from paying tithing. They purchased an affordable lot in the city and drew up blueprints for a house. They then applied for a home loan through a new government program, and once they received approval to build, they started work on a foundation.

The process went smoothly until a building inspector noticed that their lot was inaccessible to firefighters. “This land is not land that is suitable for building a house,” he told them. “You cannot proceed any further with the construction.”

Unsure what to do, Toshiko and Tokichi spoke to the missionaries. “The six of us will fast and pray for you,” an elder told them. “You do the same.”

For the next two days, the Yanagidas fasted and prayed with the missionaries. Another inspector then came out to reassess their lot. He had a reputation for being strict, and at first he gave the Yanagidas little hope of passing the inspection. But as he looked over the lot, he noticed a solution. In an emergency, the fire department could get to the property simply by removing a nearby fence. The Yanagidas could build their house after all.

“I guess you two must have done something exceptionally good in the past,” the inspector told them. “In all my years I have never been so accommodating.”

Toshiko and Tokichi were overjoyed. They had fasted and prayed and paid their tithing. And just as the sister missionary had promised, they would have a home of their own.6

My senior year in high school was filled with student body responsibilities, classes, activities, and planning for next year at BYU. I felt my senior year was a time for me to evaluate and take stock, to plan for big changes in my life. And all my friends were getting contact lenses.
“It’s a whole new world!” Cheryl confided as we huddled in our band uniforms at the opening football game. “I can see things I never saw before!” I had to admit she looked much prettier, too. Her small Japanese features no longer hid behind the thick glasses she had worn for years.
I pushed my own glasses back up on my nose and considered the possibilities. If Cheryl and Carolyn and Ron and Celia could make the change, why couldn’t I? It couldn’t be all that big a deal.
Or could it? I pondered some more as my regular checkup with the ophthalmologist approached.
“Of course!” he reassured me. He could fit me with contacts. I would have them within two weeks, for a mere $200, including eye exam and fittings during the breaking-in period.
That, of course, was another problem. Two hundred dollars was a lot of money for my family in 1970. I didn’t want to waste it. What if I couldn’t get used to the contacts?
I thought some more as I bicycled home. Daddy’s business hadn’t been going well. On the other hand, I had a good part-time job. Maybe I could offer to pay part of the bill. Maybe I would have to pay for the whole thing. Would it be worth it? I decided it would.
“Absolutely not,” said Daddy. “No daughter of mine is going to wear contact lenses.” I argued that everyone was getting them. I argued that I would pay part of the cost. I argued that I would pay all of it. I argued that I had $200, and more, sitting in the bank at that very minute. I argued that the doctor thought he could correct my vision more accurately with contacts. I argued that my glasses pinched behind my ears. I argued that contacts would give me better grades in school. Daddy was adamant, totally unreasonable. He finally put his foot down and refused to listen any more. “I don’t want you to go through all that,” he said flatly. “No. Don’t ask again.”
I stormed to my room in tears. The fight had bolstered my resolve. Anger had replaced any squeamish fears I had entertained. I would show him! I was 17 years old. I had my own life to live! Nobody was going to have control over me, not while I had $200 of my own money in the bank. I fantasized that I would be beautiful, independent. I would even lose weight, maybe streak my hair. Boys would take me out. I would show that mean, old-fashioned man a thing or two!
The next day I made an appointment for another eye examination.
I felt very shy and embarrassed the day I returned home wearing my new contacts. My eyes seemed different and foreign. The feeling was not unlike the strange tingle I had in my fingertips on the rare occasions when I used nail polish. I felt naked without my glasses, but I was astounded at the clarity of my vision. And in my heart a lurking fear was beginning to grow.
Lois had had her ears pierced against her father’s wishes. I remembered Paulette with the cork and needle at the slumber party, the alcohol-soaked strings, the infection. Lois had been grounded for a month. I pushed these thoughts aside and stiffened as I opened the front door. After all was said and done, the price had been paid and Lois had her pierced ears. I was a contact lens wearer now!
My father was more surprised and curious than shocked and angry. “Please let me see them,” he said. I held out the tiny green disk on the tip of a finger. He stared at it almost reverently. “Is this all there is to it? It’s so tiny. Are you sure you can see with it?”
I felt smug, superior, vindicated.
His next question surprised me. “Didn’t it hurt your eyes when they poured the latex in?” What on earth was he talking about? Nothing of that sort had gone on at all.
“I want to show you something,” he said, beckoning. I followed him upstairs to his room. From the back of his sock drawer, he pulled out a hinged leather case and opened it. On the white velvet lining were two glass balls. No, not balls. I picked one up. Doll teacups, of clear glass, an inch in diameter and an eighth inch thick.
“These are my contact lenses,” Daddy said sadly.
I was horrified. “How could anyone wear those? Why they must cover the whole eyeball!”
“That’s right,” he replied. “I wore them three times.”
My mother peered over my shoulder. “One of the times was on his second date with me,” she said. “His poor eyes watered so much and he was so miserable I made him take them off.”
“They made them by propping my eyelids open with a metal brace and pouring liquid latex over my eyes,” he explained. “The molds were then used for the glass lenses, which fit tightly over the entire eye. It took all my courage to put them in. I didn’t want that to happen to my little girl,” he finished lamely.
Remorse filled my heart. Daddy had only been trying to protect me from the pain he had suffered himself, while I had thought he was being mean and unreasonable. I shuddered as I remembered my misery when the orthodontist had made latex molds of my teeth. Then I thought of the young man, 20 years earlier, who had endured incredible agony for the hope of being freed from the burden of thick, heavy glasses.
Daddy hadn’t realized that times had changed. His actions toward me had been motivated by memories of his earlier experiences. I understood better now the reasons for other restrictions he imposed upon his children. He had once been a young man. Events during those years had shaped his relationship with his family; and the family rules, fair or unfair, were influenced by those experiences.
I knew the remaining months I would spend in Daddy’s household were limited. I would soon begin a new life that would lead me away from home. Very shortly, my parents would not be responsible for my welfare, and I was sorry my new understanding of them had come so late. I wished I had been more considerate and teachable.
Three years later, my mother called my Provo apartment with the news. “Your father got his new contact lenses today. Aunt Jeuney and I picked him up at the train station and asked him how he was doing. He really was excited! ‘When I got back to the office, I didn’t have to pick up a single thing on my desk to see what it was,’ he said.”
Tears filled my eyes as I thought of the man who had groped for so many years and had now found a fuller measure of vision. I prayed that in future relationships I would realize that people, especially parents, act according to their past experiences. It is impossible to understand all the reasons why people do the things they do. I hope I can remember that lesson all my life.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells us to pray for our enemies. Our Church leaders today have often counseled us to do the same when we hold onto bad feelings about someone. While I was growing up, I used to think this was just something people would talk about but never actually do. There came a time in my life, though, when the only thing I could do was pray for those I disliked. I learned the wisdom in that counsel from an experience with prayer and forgiveness that changed my life.
It started when I entered the Young Women program in our small ward. Involved in many activities, I always tried to do the best I could in each area. I was excited about being in Young Women, and I began trying to develop a relationship with the four girls with whom I would have constant association. My excitement soon turned to bitterness as these four girls became one of the biggest trials in my life.
Being jealous of my accomplishments, they started doing anything they could to ruin my self-esteem. At first it was just rude remarks about me to other people. Then they would get together and make fun of me in Sunday School. One day in Young Women class I sat next to one of the girls, and she stood up and moved across the room. Whenever I suggested an activity or was in charge, they failed to show up or carry through with their responsibilities.
I tried hard to uphold my standards, and was sometimes recognized for doing so. This did not improve my relationship with them.
A person can endure this sort of treatment for a few months, or even a couple of years, but it went on for four years at an age when it is very important to feel a sense of belonging. I felt I was a failure because I had no friends. It was a terribly lonely time.
When I was sixteen years old, our family moved to a new neighborhood. I thought all my problems would be solved, but they were just beginning. In a new environment, I felt like a social outcast. With little confidence in myself left, I believed no one could ever like me. I hated the girls back in my hometown for making me feel this way. How could I “start again” with my past haunting me?
Feeling horribly alone, unloved, and bitter, I asked myself what I should do. I thought of that old saying, “Pray for your enemies.”
Pray for the girls who have destroyed my self-esteem, my social life, and hope? I just couldn’t do it, I thought.
But I felt the Spirit prompting me to pray.
I knew I had to forgive if I was ever going to progress and regain my self-confidence. I knelt and said my usual prayer. Then I stopped. I couldn’t pray for them. I just couldn’t. I stayed on my knees for about a half hour weeping. Praying for strength, I then said, “Dear Father, please bless Kathy, Ann, Sherri, and Julie.” That’s all I said. I didn’t feel any different, and it was the hardest prayer I had ever offered. The next night I said the same thing.
After a few months of praying every night for them, an amazing thing started to happen. The words came more easily, and I started feeling better about myself. Soon I prayed specific things for each girl: “Bless Ann to do well in her dance lessons. Bless Julie to get along with her parents. Bless Kathy to have the courage to stand up for the right, and bless Sherri with the strength to accomplish her goals.”
After an entire year of praying, the thing that I thought impossible happened. I loved them, and the bitterness and bad memories were erased. We have now become good friends.
It has been three years since we moved away, yet I still take time out in my prayers to remember them. The night I decided to pray and forgive them was probably the most important decision I ever made. You see, I could have spent my whole life being angry and hurt. In the end, I would have only destroyed myself.
Through those prayers I was able to improve my self-esteem. I learned faith, the power of prayer, and the truthfulness of the scriptures. I have been blessed with many friends who love me. I have not carried around a guilty, heavy conscience. It has become a habit for me to fall to my knees and pray for anyone who offends me. I have learned the sweetness of forgiveness.

Many years ago, President David O. McKay told of a beautiful experience he had while sailing on a boat toward Samoa. After falling asleep, he “beheld in vision something infinitely sublime. In the distance,” he said, “I beheld a beautiful white city. … Trees with luscious fruit … and flowers in perfect bloom abounded everywhere. … A great concourse of people [was] approaching the city. Each one wore a white flowing robe. … Instantly my attention … centered upon their leader, and though I could see only the profile of his features … , I recognized him at once as my Savior! The … radiance of his countenance [was] glorious. … [The] peace about him … was divine!”
President McKay continues, “The city … was his … the City Eternal; and the people following him were to abide there in peace and eternal happiness.”
President McKay wondered, “Who [are] they? [Who are these people?]”
He explains what happened next:
“As if the Savior read my thoughts, he answered by pointing to [words in] a semicircle that … appeared above [the people], … written in gold … :
“‘These Are They Who Have Overcome the World—
“Who Have Truly Been Born Again!’”1

During humankind’s early push into space, the unmanned rockets had no windows. But by the Apollo 8 mission to the moon, the astronauts had one. While floating in space, they were struck by the power of seeing our earth and took this spectacular image, capturing the whole world’s attention! Those astronauts experienced a sensation so powerful it has been given its own name: the overview effect.
NASA
Viewing from a new vantage point changes everything. One space traveler said it “reduces things to a size that you think everything is manageable. … We can do this. Peace on earth—no problem. It gives people that type of energy … that type of power.”

My sister Nancy is on a mission, and she says I, Erin Christensen, should start writing a journal, so here it is.
Today President Schultz spoke in church. He’s our stake president. Mom and Dad got really excited about his talk. It was about the rewards of being member missionaries. More says we’ll talk about it in family home evening tomorrow.
We had a busy weekend. Dad talked with Mrs. Thompson Saturday morning, and she said she couldn’t wait till Tuesday. So the missionaries came that night and the next night, and tonight too. And she asked to be baptized! Heavenly Father answered our prayers, even though it wasn’t the way I expected. The Browns are still our friends, and maybe someday they’ll want to learn about the Church and get baptized too. I hope so. Meanwhile, I’ve already written to tell Nancy the good news about Mrs. Thompson. I guess I know a little about how she feels being a missionary. It feels GREAT!
I felt sad all day because the Browns don’t want to listen to the missionaries. Then this afternoon the most amazing thing happened! I went to Mrs. Thompson’s house to rake leaves again. While I was raking, she came out with some milk and cookies for me, and we sat down on the porch. We started talking about families. She thinks our family is pretty special. I told her that Mom and Dad were married in the Washington Temple and that that means we’ll be together forever. She got tears in her eyes and asked me if there was a way she could learn more about being married forever. I said, “Sure—just come over to our house next Tuesday, and the missionaries will teach you.” And she’s going to come!
Dad invited the Browns to hear the missionary discussions next week. They said no. I was sure that they’d come—they’d be great Latter-day Saints! Now what do we do?
The Browns came over for family home evening again tonight. Mom gave a great lesson about loving our neighbors. I made the treats—graham crackers with chocolate frosting!
More and Dad and I fasted today, even though it wasn’t fast Sunday. Dad says that if we fast, we’ll be able to get closer to Heavenly Father and He’ll help us in our missionary work. I hope so—Barbi still couldn’t come to Primary.
Activity day was called “Peace Among All Nations Day,” and Barbi got to carry the Italian flag to represent Europe. I think she had fun. I sure did!
More and Dad took Mr. and Mrs. Brown to the ward dinner party tonight. It was just for adults, so Barbi and I stayed home and made posters for our clubhouse.
Barbi is going to go with me to the activity day!
We pray about our missionary work lots of times every day. I know that we need Heavenly Father’s help if we are going to be good missionaries. Barbi and I built a clubhouse in the backyard after school. She said she’d like to come to the activity day on Saturday, but she needs to ask her parents.
We checked out a video from the ward library and watched it at family home evening. It’s called “Our Heavenly Father’s Plan.” I’m pretty sure that my sister shows it to her new investigators. (Those are people who want to know more about the Church.) I’m learning a lot about being a missionary!
I invited Barbi to go to Primary with me today. She couldn’t go because she was going to visit her grandma. Maybe next week. We’re having a Primary activity day on Saturday. I’m going to invite Barbi.
I wrote a letter to Nancy today. She’ll be happy about our missionary work. I wonder how she gets people to teach on her mission.
Tonight was great! More and Dad showed them the slides, and we ate lots of popcorn. I think the Browns had a good time. After they left, we had a family prayer. I felt really good about our missionary work. I think we’re going to have someone ready to listen to the missionaries. Maybe it’ll be the Browns!
Dad and I raked leaves for Mrs. Thompson across the street. She’s old and can’t do it for herself. Dad says that doing things for other people is part of missionary work. I think it made her happy. Her husband died last summer, so she needs help with some things, I guess she’s lonely too.
Dad invited the Browns to look at the slides from our camping trip to Maine last summer and have popcorn with us on Friday. They live next door, and Barbi Brown is my best friend. It would be great if they got baptized!
When I said my prayers this morning, I said a special prayer for our missionary work. I hope I can get one of my friends to join the Church. We need more girls in my Primary class!
Wow—we’ve decided to work as a family to have someone ready to hear the missionary discussions. The meetings will be right here at our house. Dad says that we don’t even have to know who that person is right now. We just need to pray, have faith, and do everything we can to help as many people as we can to know about the Church. If we do, Heavenly Father will help us.

A young friend named Emily discovered this for herself. Emily did not yet have a testimony of the gospel and was contemplating whether to remain active in the Church or try to find happiness elsewhere. As she searched for answers, she began to notice that the people and families around her who were the happiest were the ones who were active in the Church. After that discovery, she determined that even if she didn’t yet have a complete testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel, she wanted to be part of something that helped people to be so happy. The word gospel means “good news,” and, as Emily discovered, the good news is that the gospel can make us very happy.

For those who, for whatever reason, fall into temptation and are dwelling upon unrighteous actions, I assure you that there is a way back, that there is hope in Christ. A few years ago, I had the opportunity to visit with a dear member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who went through a very difficult time in his life after committing a major transgression. When I first saw him, I could see a sadness in his eyes, accompanied by a brightness of hope in his countenance. His very expression reflected a humble and changed heart. He had been a dedicated Christian and had been richly blessed by the Lord. However, he had let a single improper thought invade his mind, which then led to others. As he steadily became more and more permissive of these thoughts, soon they took root in his mind and began to grow deep in his heart. He eventually acted upon these unworthy desires, which led him to make decisions against everything that was most precious in his life. He told me that if he had not given place to that foolish thought to begin with, he would not have become vulnerable and susceptible to the temptations of the enemy—temptations that brought so much sadness in his life, at least for a period of time.

Fortunately, like the prodigal son in the famous parable found in the gospel of Luke, “he came to himself” and woke up from that nightmare. He renewed his trust in the Lord and felt true contrition and had the desire to eventually return to the Lord’s fold. That day we both felt the Savior’s redeeming love for us. At the end of our brief visit, we were both overcome with emotion, and to this day, I remember the resplendent joy in his countenance when he left my office.

My name is Joshua Kioko. My wife is Penina Mueni. We are the parents of three children: Joseph (16), Angel (7), and Mercy (5). My family and I had a wonderful experience which I will share with you.
First, when the prophet stood to speak, he was speaking in a small voice—like a whisper—yet it was clear in my ears and I could easily understand his words. I felt like the Nephites when Heavenly Father was introducing His Beloved Son to them in a small voice, which pierced into their bodies (see 3 Nephi 11:3). Brothers and sisters, I don’t need more witness to know that President Russell M. Nelson is the Lord’s prophet on earth and His spokesman—for he spoke like Him. In Doctrine and Covenants 1:38 we learn that whether it is Heavenly Father’s voice or the voice of His servants, it is the same.
The prophet talked about problems facing Kenya—and Africa as whole—and gave us solutions to solve them. I will share a few:
We will get out of poverty if we pay tithing.
Paying dowry or lobola is not the Lord’s way.
The Lord’s way is to get married in the temple.
We should not be beating our children or giving corporal punishment to them.
Since then my lovely wife Penina and I vowed never to beat our children and to look for other means of disciplining our children—and to afterwards show love toward them.
We also vowed that when our two daughters grow up, we will not ask for dowry from those blessed young men. We will give our daughters freely. The only sacrifice they have to pay in order to earn that blessing is to be temple worthy in order to marry our daughters in the Lord’s temple.
After we left the venue, I could see the love and joy my daughter, Angel, had towards President Nelson—and she asked me what the prophet had said to me. I told her, “The prophet loves you children. He said we, your parents, should love you and not give corporal punishment. But you also need to be obedient so we, your parents, will be able to obey the prophet!”

I play basketball. One day, I messaged the coach that I wouldn’t be able to play in any Sunday games.
He responded, “What do you mean? If you want to go professional, you have to put the sport first.” I told him that if I wanted to go professional, I had to put God first, and He would help me.
My coach said, “I am going to do everything possible for the games to be on Saturdays.” And that’s the way it’s been.
It might not always work out that way. But I’m glad my coach knows that for me, the sport doesn’t come first—my Heavenly Father does.
When I do things right, I feel that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are proud of me. It’s a peace that no one can take from me, knowing that I’m trying and that They recognize my effort.
The sport doesn’t come first—my Heavenly Father does.

His regal bearing is not at all overbearing. He treats people like a beloved grandfather would—with kindness, lots of love, and not the slightest hint of superiority. Yet, as a retired colonel of the Paraguayan army, he seems to be just as comfortable mingling with the country’s top government and military leaders as he is with his family and friends or while serving in his Church assignments. Held in highest esteem by members and nonmembers alike, he is often referred to respectfully as “mi coronel.”
Thirty years ago, in 1963, Luis A. Ramírez was serving as a young major in the Paraguayan army. One day he found a copy of the Book of Mormon on the table in his home in Asunción. He had never seen it before and didn’t know where it had come from. But he opened it and began looking through the pages. “It said it was ‘the word of God,’” he remembers. “That phrase—the word of God—penetrated my mind profoundly. So I began to read. And a great interest was awakened within me.”
The timing was perfect. “For about three months, I had felt the need to get closer to God,” he says. He wasn’t satisfied with his own religion, but had begun to attend his church every Sunday anyway, hoping to find some answers. “And I began to pray to God—not the kind of prayers I had been taught to pray, but very similar to what the missionaries later taught me. This continued for three months. Then I found the book.”
“Who brought this book?” he asked his family. A fifteen-year-old relative said that two missionaries had given it to him a couple of days earlier at a friend’s house. “I continued reading it, and it interested me even more. So I said to the boy, ‘When you see the missionaries again, invite them to come here.’”
When the missionaries came a few days later, Luis had just about finished reading the Book of Mormon, and he had lots of questions. For the next three weeks, the missionaries taught two discussions every week to Luis and his wife, Hortensia. The Saturday following the third visit, they were both baptized. As a result, friends and relatives also became interested in the gospel and were baptized. Soon “the major” became “the president”—of the Moroni Branch in Asunción.
At one point in his military career, Brother Ramírez was serving on foreign soil, away from his family for fifteen months. During that lonely, difficult time, “the gospel helped me a lot,” he says. “I prayed and fasted frequently and felt very close to my family. And I felt an absolute assurance that I would be all right. I felt the help of the Lord through the Spirit.”
In 1969, six years after his baptism, Brother Ramírez was advanced to the rank of colonel. He taught in the military college until his retirement in 1975, never hiding the fact that he was a Latter-day Saint. Over the years, some of his students became interested in the Church and were baptized because of his example.
After retiring from the military, Brother and Sister Ramírez took their family to Utah for five years, where he earned a degree at Brigham Young University. Soon after returning to Paraguay, he was called as the first Paraguayan ever to serve as a mission president. And his mission field was his native country.
Since his release in 1984, Colonel Ramírez has continued to serve as a counselor to mission and stake presidents, strengthening members and helping to establish the Church in outlying districts and branches. In addition, he has continued to serve as an adviser to the Church in its relations with the Paraguayan government, opening doors that possibly no one else could have opened. With characteristic humility, he downplays his role in that regard: “Perhaps I’ve been able to help a little,” he says. But those who have served with him know of his great ability to make friends for the Church and to be an ambassador of good will among national leaders.
Some of his former students and colleagues, now in positions of responsibility in the country, remember and respect Colonel Ramírez as a Latter-day Saint. “Sometimes I’ll see my students who are now majors or colonels, and they will stop and ask me, ‘How’s the Church coming?’ I tell them it’s coming along very well.”

I used to look at the Old Testament in sort of the same way I looked at fairy tales—neat stories that didn’t really mean much to me. Separated by thousands of years of history, they seemed out of my grasp. However, my seminary teacher loved the Old Testament, and his enthusiasm and humble testimony began to instill in me a greater reverence for these scriptures.
One night as I was reading, I came across this scripture: “And the Lord spake unto Moses face to face, as a man speaketh unto his friend” (Ex. 33:11).
I read these words and thought little of it. The Lord spoke to Moses. Of course he did. It was only natural that the Lord would appear personally to one of the greatest prophets that ever lived.
Then I prayed, and I started to think about that scripture. I knew Heavenly Father wouldn’t appear to me that night, but maybe I should try to speak to him “as a man speaketh to his friend.” It was then that I felt his love envelop me. As I prayed, I restated what I had read in the scriptures.
“Moses spoke to thee face to face, just like a friend.” I stopped. I said it again and then again. Then it hit me. The realization was so profound, yet so simple. Moses saw God face to face. Suddenly, the days of the Old Testament weren’t so distant, and I realized that Moses was a mortal, just like me. The scriptures came to life in my mind; I simply knew that Moses had actually lived and breathed, that he, too, had experienced challenges and struggled with lack of confidence. Yet he talked to the Messiah, the Jehovah of Israel, his Lord and Redeemer, my Lord and Redeemer, in the same manner that I spoke to my own earthly father.
“Heavenly Father,” I prayed again, “I want this more than anything else. I want to return to thee!” I closed my prayer and crawled into bed, feeling His love more tangibly than I ever had before in my life.

When I was a boy, at Christmastime my mother put out a picture of the Savior knocking at a door. We weren’t members of the Church yet, and I always asked, “Why is Jesus knocking on the door? Who is on the other side?”
A few years later I discovered there was no handle on the outside of the door the Savior was knocking on. The person on the inside needed to open the door. Now I know who is on the other side of the door. We are! The Savior is knocking, and we all have to open the door and invite Him to come into our lives.

I have a pet goat named Cashmere. I feel like I’m her mom. I give her food and water. I brush her hair. I put her in the barn at night to protect her. Sometimes she tries to get out. Cashmere doesn’t understand that staying in the cage protects her from getting lost, from animals, and from other dangers.
Sometimes we are like my pet goat. We have lots of shepherds in our lives. Some of them are our parents, our teachers, and our bishops. Our shepherds help us do what’s right and stay away from danger—if we listen and follow them. Jesus Christ is the best shepherd. I want to be one of the sheep in Jesus’s flock.Quincey B., age 10, Texas

I can’t remember the exact day I crumbled, but I do remember how I felt. I was sitting in seminary. For some reason, I didn’t want to raise my hand to answer a question. Pretty soon, I didn’t feel I knew the answers, whether in seminary, Sunday school, or Young Women meetings. Suddenly, I had no confidence in my knowledge of the gospel.
I still knew the Church was true, but I felt I was doing something wrong. I judged myself harshly and didn’t feel worthy to pray. I started to panic. I felt horrible inside, all the time. It was like I was sick and hadn’t the slightest idea what the cure was, because I didn’t know what was wrong. I hadn’t committed any serious sin or transgression, and my senior year of high school had started off really great. So what in the world was the matter with me?
These feelings continued for a couple of months, and before I knew it, it was time for October 2014 general conference. I was looking forward to my mother’s October conference chili with corn chips, but my mind was all over the place. One of my teachers at church had challenged us to write out questions we were seeking answers for and to then listen for the answers in conference. Ten minutes before the Saturday morning session was to begin, I finally sat down with my computer and started typing up questions I had. I still felt sick and still didn’t know why.
Conference began, and just as I had for the previous few years, I paid attention to the speakers and took notes, but I still didn’t know what I was looking for.
During the hymn halfway through the Saturday afternoon session, Mom got the chili out and Dad and I got up to fill our bowls, pile on the corn chips, and get back to the couch before the song ended. For some reason I was hesitant to get up, but I was hungry. In the kitchen, as I contemplated the right chili-to-corn chip ratio, I felt like I needed to go back. I quickly grabbed a bowl and was about to get a spoon when I felt as though the Holy Ghost jolted me and said, “Sit down on the couch.” I dropped my bowl on the counter and got to the couch in two strides. I pulled my laptop onto my lap just as Elder Klebingat began speaking.
His first sentence: “On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your spiritual confidence before God?”1
My jaw dropped. Elder Klebingat was through the first paragraph of his talk before I actually digested the fact that he was saying exactly what I needed to hear. Stunned, I vigorously began typing notes on my computer. Elder Klebingat had accurately diagnosed me: my spiritual confidence was a -50. Then he proceeded to prescribe a cure for my sickness.
The Lord was the only one who knew what I needed, and He was the only one who knew when Elder Klebingat would be speaking (at the precise moment my corn chips would be calling to me). I am so glad I sat down and listened.
So, now that I was on the road to recovering my spiritual confidence, I had a new question: why had my spiritual confidence crumbled in the first place? I had seen a teaser on a website about how a dark chapter in my nation became a time to reinvent itself. How can a dark time bring about rejuvenation? It seemed a little paradoxical, but it brought to mind a scripture from Ether 12:27: “And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”
Hmm. “Weak things become strong.” OK, I’m seeing a pattern here.
I hadn’t seen this time of spiritual panic coming. I had been scared and hadn’t known what was going on or how to fix it. But because of Elder Klebingat’s diagnosis and prescribed cure, I now study my scriptures for 30 minutes every day. I am expanding my knowledge of the Savior’s Atonement, and I see trials and challenges in a completely different light. As Elder Klebingat said in his talk:
“When these trials come, the adversary’s minions begin broadcasting that you did something wrong, that this is a punishment, a sign that Heavenly Father does not love you. Ignore that! Instead, try to force a smile, gaze heavenward, and say, ‘I understand, Lord. I know what this is. A time to prove myself, isn’t it?’ Then partner with Him to endure well to the end. Spiritual confidence increases when you accept that often trials and tribulations are allowed to come into [your life] because of what [you] are doing right.”2
Before this experience I felt like I knew the gospel. But now I realize that I understand that this gospel is true because I have tested it. I have trusted it. And by so doing, I opened my heart to Heavenly Father. He has kept His promises: He has “manifest[ed] the truth of it unto [me] by the power of the Holy Ghost” (Moroni 10:4). I know Heavenly Father has a plan for me. I know He has a plan for you. Don’t be afraid to find out what it is.

Almost fifty years ago, I knew a boy, even a priest, who held the authority of the Aaronic Priesthood. As the bishop, I was his quorum president. This boy, Robert, stuttered and stammered. … Self-conscious, shy, fearful of himself and all others, he had an impediment of speech which was devastating to him. Never did he fulfill an assignment; never would he look another in the eye; always would he gaze downward. Then one day, through an unusual set of circumstances, he accepted an assignment to … baptize another.
I sat next to him in the baptistry of the sacred Tabernacle. He was dressed in immaculate white, prepared for the ordinance he was to perform. I asked Robert how he felt. He gazed at the floor and stuttered almost incoherently that he felt terrible.
We both prayed fervently that he would be made equal to his task. Then the clerk read the words: “Nancy Ann McArthur will now be baptized by Robert Williams, a priest.” Robert left my side, stepped into the font, took little Nancy by the hand, and helped her into the water. … He then gazed as though toward heaven and, with his right arm to the square, [declared,] “Nancy Ann McArthur, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” Not once did he stammer. Not once did he stutter. Not once did he falter. A modern miracle had been witnessed.
In the dressing room, as I congratulated Robert, I expected to hear this same uninterrupted flow of speech. I was wrong. He gazed downward and stammered his reply of gratitude.
I testify that when Robert acted in the authority of the Aaronic Priesthood, he spoke with power, with conviction, and with heavenly help.(See Ensign, February 2002, pages 2–5.)

At age 15, Michael M. found his first job. A local cafeteria was the only place around hiring people his age. Most job duties revolved around dishes: busing tables, loading the dishwasher, and so forth. Employees would read their task for the day when they showed up for work.
“If it was busing tables, we’d rejoice,” Michael says. “But the worst thing, what you didn’t want to get, was pots.”
Picture a medieval knight poised in battle armor, sword in hand, ready to battle an angry dragon. Now replace the armor with a full-body rubber apron, the sword with a high-pressure sprayer, and the dragon with a greasy, scorched-bottom pot.
That was pots.
The black rubber apron was heavy and hot. The water was even hotter. And the high-powered spray from the hose practically guaranteed a drenching even with the rubber apron and hat. “It was a hot, dirty, stinky job,” Michael says about pots. “We all hated it.”
A lot of teenagers couldn’t cut it. They’d hire on and then bail within weeks. However, Michael and a friend made an agreement with each other to stick it out an entire summer, and they both did.
For Michael, the experience he gained from that job far outweighed the downsides. “That first job, as awful as it was, made me appreciate the easier jobs I had later.”
After saying good-bye to the cafeteria, Michael worked at a fast-food restaurant, then at a grocery store, and next at a movie theater concessions stand. At each job he had a positive attitude toward the work because of what he’d learned from his first job. “You learn lessons at your first job,” Michael says. “Something good can come out of every job experience.”

Listen to the example of a young woman who wrote: “Right now in my family we are going through a tough time. I have been given the opportunity to fill my mother’s role. Sometimes I have to not participate in activities after school so I can care for my brother. Sometimes I have to not go out with my friends so that I can cook dinner or go grocery shopping.” Then she adds, “Because of this responsibility, I have learned a great deal about being a mother, growing up and taking responsibility, not only for myself but for others.”