Gospel Story Finder

In 1972 a couple and their six children were sealed in the temple. “I’ve never seen my mom and dad so happy as the day we went into the temple as a family. That day of joy was the culmination of more than twenty years of effort,” one daughter recalls. The wife explains: “I grew up in a strong LDS family but married a nonmember, thinking I could convert him. He joined the Church in 1953, but I learned before too long that he had done it just to get me to stop nagging him. He even started smoking and drinking after baptism, and he had never done either of those before. I guess I nagged him a lot in those years. I would self-righteously take the children to church and then come home and quarrel with him because he hadn’t gone too.”

What finally made the change? “I prayed so hard those years that I never took time to listen to the Lord’s answer. And when I heard it I ignored it. But finally I was so desperate that I felt I had no other choice than to do it His way: ‘You have to love him in,’ the Spirit would whisper to me. ‘Let him go at his own pace.’ So finally I did it and before too long we were at the temple.”

At the same time, the Lord was reaching out to this man in other ways. His colleagues at work had begun to ridicule Joseph Smith, and he felt he had to know if the things they were saying were true. If they were, he would leave the Church. “I started to read the Book of Mormon. I had never really tried to understand it before. It was a marvelous experience. And I learned how to defend the Church to the men at work and that it was defensible. I got so I really thirsted to know the truth. I went back to church. And all the while I was amazed at the quiet support my wife was giving me. Instead of nagging, instead of saying, ‘I told you so,’ like she once would have done when I started to go back, she simply took my hand and said she wanted to help me do whatever would make me happiest.”

Study and church attendance—even a thoughtful testimony borne on a fast Sunday—were followed by a review of the missionary discussions, giving up drinking, and having a difficult struggle to stop smoking. “I thought it would be easy for me to quit smoking, even though I had smoked for seven years—because I generally have good will power. But I tried and tried to quit and I couldn’t. Every time I definitely decided to quit, something would happen, and suddenly I would find myself with a cigarette in my hand and smoke coming out of my mouth. I had heard stories about the Lord taking the desire away from people when they sought him in prayer, but that didn’t work for me. Maybe I didn’t have strong enough faith, or maybe he wanted me to grow more from the struggle. I just knew that I couldn’t quit. Finally I went to the Lord in prayer and committed myself to him that I would never smoke again, even if it was difficult. It wasn’t easy—in fact, even now when I smell tobacco I have an urge to smoke again—but from that moment to this I have never broken my covenant.”

“I don’t think all these things would have happened if we hadn’t made a plan. Our home teachers taught us that the best thing we could do was to set specific goals for what we would have to do in our lives before we could go to the temple, and then of course to reach our goals by the designated time. First, we decided we would have to go to all our meetings. That was a hard one for me because I worked nights, and priesthood meeting started about an hour after my bedtime. But I went anyway. Second, I had to start living the Word of Wisdom; third, we had to pay tithing, and so on. Those goals really made the difference. They gave us a deadline for us to accomplish each step and a final date for when we wanted to be at the temple. That was the only approach that would have been effective for us.”

I want to describe the characteristics and tactics of two cheetahs Susan and I watched hunting their prey and relate some of the things we observed to the daily living of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Cheetahs are the fastest land animals on earth and reach running speeds as high as 75 mph (120 km/h). These beautiful animals can accelerate from a standstill position to running as fast as 68 mph (109 km/h) in less than three seconds. Cheetahs are predators that sneak up on their prey and sprint a short distance to chase and attack.
Susan and I spent almost two hours watching two cheetahs stalking a large group of topis, Africa’s most common and widespread antelopes. The tall, dry grass of the African savanna was golden brown and almost totally obscured the predators as they pursued a group of topis. The cheetahs were separated from each other by approximately 100 yards (91 m) but worked in tandem.
While one cheetah sat upright in the grass and did not move, the other cheetah crouched low to the ground and slowly crept closer to the unsuspecting topis. Then the cheetah that had been sitting upright disappeared in the grass at exactly the same moment that the other cheetah sat upright. This alternating pattern of one cheetah crouching low and creeping forward while the other cheetah sat upright in the grass continued for a long time. The stealthy subtlety of the strategy was intended to distract and deceive the topis and thereby divert their attention away from the approaching danger. Patiently and steadily, the two cheetahs worked as a team to secure their next meal.
Positioned between the large group of topis and the approaching cheetahs were several older and stronger topis standing as sentinels on termite mounds. The enhanced view of the grasslands from the small hills enabled these guardian topis to watch for signs of danger.
Then suddenly, as the cheetahs appeared to be within striking distance, the entire group of topis turned and ran away. I do not know if or how the sentinel topis communicated with the larger group, but somehow a warning was given, and all the topis moved to a place of safety.
And what did the cheetahs do next? Without any delay, the two cheetahs resumed their alternating pattern of one cheetah crouching low and creeping forward while the other cheetah sat upright in the grass. The pattern of pursuit continued. They did not stop. They did not rest or take a break. They were relentless in following their strategy of distraction and diversion. Susan and I watched the cheetahs disappear in the distance, always moving closer and closer to the group of topis.
That night Susan and I had a memorable conversation about what we had observed and learned. We also discussed this experience with our children and grandchildren and identified many valuable lessons. I now will describe three of those lessons.

“When I was eleven, the Fourth of July was a real big event in Spanish Fork. World War II had begun, and the whole town was having a parade to send off the men who were leaving to serve in the war. The night before the Fourth I went outside to play. I sat on the porch, and my mother said, ‘You’re not going to go anywhere, are you?’ I said, ‘No, I’ll stay here.’
“Then my friend Mark came across the street and said, ‘I have a big box of firecrackers. Let’s go up to Janet’s and show the girls how to light them!’ I forgot that my mother had asked me to stay home. The only thought in my mind was to go up to Janet’s and light some firecrackers.
“We lighted all the firecrackers that would light, and the remainder we put in a cardboard box and set on fire. Mark and I were both burned in the resulting explosion. In fact, our faces, chests, hands, and arms were burned so severely that it didn’t look like we were going to make it.
“Sister Hill, Janet’s mother, came out when she heard the explosion, and she saw five kids on fire. Somehow the fires were put out, and she calmly took us into the house, knelt us down in the living room, and offered a prayer. Then she called the doctor, and we went down to Dr. Moody’s office.
“He operated on my face to put it back together. Before he started, I asked my father to give me a blessing. Dr. Moody was also an elder, so the two of them administered to me. My father said in the blessing that if I would have faith, the Lord would make me well. You have to remember that at that time my father was an alcoholic. But when he said that the Lord would make me well, I knew it was true.
“Then Dr. Moody began to work on me. I didn’t have any anesthetic because they were afraid of shock. into my mind came the words of one of my mother’s favorite hymns:
O how praying rests the weary!
Prayer will change the night to day;
So when life gets dark and dreary,
Don’t forget to pray.
(Hymns, no. 31.)
“I couldn’t speak, but I could hum. For the whole two and a half to three hours while the doctor was trying to fix my face, I hummed that hymn. When he was finished with me, I looked just like a mummy. My face and arms were all wrapped up with bandages. It appeared that I had lost the sight of one eye and severely damaged the other. My hands were as black as shoe leather, and they were hard and crinkled.
“All five of us were healed and back in school in the fall. Janet had a severely damaged finger, Mark had burns on his face, as I did, and on his arms, but we were all back in school. Someone in the ward had placed our names on the prayer roll in the temple. To Mother that was tantamount to saying, ‘Don’t worry, if your names are on the prayer roll in the temple, you can just count on being healed.’ And we were.”

Another example of President Kimball’s discipleship occurred one Christmas Eve several years ago. He called and asked if I were busy. I quickly responded, “Not at all. What can I do for you, President Kimball?” He told me he needed a companion to go with him to the Primary Children’s Hospital to give a few blessings. It turned out that he had heard of several children from South America, as well as some American Indian children, who were in the hospital. We went from floor to floor giving blessings to all the Latins and Lamanites and many others too. I was deeply affected by the love of President Kimball and his tender friendship with each child. He was a friend to the sick—a friend to those far from home. He exemplified the tender, loving friendship that the Savior would give. It was easy to see how he could say, “The Savior is my best friend.”

During my first Christmas as a bishop, a single mother with three small children lived in our ward. This young woman had a strong testimony of the gospel and lived it to the best of her ability. She cleaned homes and did sewing to try to earn enough money, but often she could not.
Raising three young boys by herself was a real challenge. These active, energetic youngsters always seemed to be in some sort of trouble. I remember removing them from more than one tussle with their classmates.
Several good people helped this struggling family. I’ll never forget the brother who came into my office one Sunday just a couple of weeks before Christmas, asking to speak with me privately. He was concerned about the young mother and her family and wanted to do something for them. Would I accept his contribution and use it in the best way I could to help them? As we spoke, I hardly noticed his small son, who remained in the office with us.
The man explained that he did not know what the woman and her family needed. He just wanted to help and felt that I would be inspired to know what to do. He then entrusted to me quite a remarkable sum of money—not remarkable in amount, but remarkable relative to his modest income, of which I was well aware, I knew that this gift meant a sacrifice of his own family’s Christmas, at least in the temporal sense. Seeing the resolve shining in his eyes, I protested only gently. Then I cleared my tightening throat, thanked him for his unselfish gift, and promised to do my best to make Christmas a little brighter for the young mother and her sons.
I also agreed to honor his request that his name be kept secret.
The story might well end here and still be memorable. But the event that has kept this experience in my mind had yet to occur. It wasn’t the way I was able to help the family with the contribution—although that turned out to be most gratifying—but rather what took place in my office one week following that brother’s visit.
It was just a few days before Christmas, and I was between tithing-settlement interviews when I heard a soft knock on the office door. I opened it to see, standing quite alone, the six-year-old boy who had sat quietly in my office while his dad and I had talked the Sunday before.
He asked politely if he could talk to me for just a minute. After we walked into the office—which I think is always a bit of a frightening experience for youngsters—I invited him to sit down. He fidgeted with something in his pocket and, after some struggle, pulled out three small coins and laid them on my desk. He apologized that the coins were all the money he had, and that they were a little old and dirty, since he had had them quite a while. The money, he explained, was for me to use to help his three friends, like his dad was helping their mother. As my heart swelled and my eyes became moist, he added that he felt I would know best how to divide his treasure among his friends and that he was sorry that one of the coins was of less value than the other two, so they could not be divided evenly between the three boys.
What lessons originated in that moment! A father’s unselfish example, the trust of a small boy in his bishop, and the humble, Christlike act of a child obviously without guile. Only a few weeks before I had pulled this boy from a quarrel with the boys who would soon be receiving his forgiving love and charity.
I hugged him, partly to cover my now obvious tears and mostly to tell him how much I appreciated him and how much I knew his Father in Heaven loved him. I then walked him to the door, shook his hand, and assured him that I would do the best I could to help his friends this Christmas with his generous gift. As I turned to go back into my office, he whispered after me, “And remember, Bishop, don’t ever tell anyone it was me.”
Well, I never have told anyone until now, my young friend. I hope relating our special story in this way is alright so that others might feel a bit of the quiet Christmas spirit of love and charity that we felt that day.

What are you doing?
Changing the air filter.
What does it do?
It’s got an important job. It keeps dirt out of the engine.
You know, you have a filter too.
What do you mean?
It’s the Holy Ghost. It helps you know when what you’re watching or reading isn’t good.
Like that movie we turned off last night?
Right! The Holy Ghost helped us keep bad stuff out of our brains—just like a filter!
Yeah, it’s not like you can throw your old brain away and get a new one at the store!

Thomas stood on the banks of the Mississippi River, his bare hands pushed deep inside the pockets of his overcoat. His breath came out in cloudy puffs, and his teeth chattered steadily.

Thomas watched as a chunk of ice bigger than a wagon wheel slowly drifted by. The ferry had been moored for days, and the muddy banks of the river were frozen and hard. The Saints who had hoped to leave Nauvoo ahead of the Canadian storm had been delayed; there was no hope of crossing the icy river before spring.

Thomas had never seen a storm like the one that hit Nauvoo that February 1846. The weather had been mild and warm the first half of the month, and President Brigham Young had exhorted the members of the Church to leave Nauvoo for the camp at Sugar Creek. Many families had followed his admonition. The ferry carried heavy loads of people, animals, and wagons across the river continually until the temperatures dropped. Almost overnight, the storm blew in with a terrible fury. Bitter cold winds pounded Thomas’s wood-frame house from the north, doors and shutters clattering loudly. Great mounds of snow piled up on the streets of Nauvoo. The stinging, harsh blizzard had gone on for days. This morning was the first time Thomas was able to see the ice-choked river.

“Thomas!” called his younger brother, Joseph. “Mama needs those eggs from Sister Patterson right away!”

Thomas looked back across the river one more time. “All right, Joseph. I’m coming.” He pulled his woolen scarf closer around his neck and met his brother halfway up the hill.

Joseph was a year younger than Thomas, but he was already nearly as tall. Named for the Prophet Joseph Smith, he had been born three days before the Prophet’s thirty-first birthday. Joseph’s cheeks and nose were red from the cold, and he was blowing on his hands to keep them warm.

“You run home, Joseph,” Thomas said. “Tell Mama I’m on my way with the eggs for her custard.”

Joseph nodded and loped off. Thomas could see their house up the road and knew that Joseph would soon be sitting in front of the warm hearth.

Mama rarely made her delicious egg custard anymore, especially since they had sold their best laying hens to the Pattersons. Papa said that the hens would never survive the journey west and that the family needed the money to buy more basic supplies. But this morning Mama had declared that they would have custard for dessert and had sent Thomas for the fresh eggs. He knew that his father and mother had been fasting and praying about the weather and that this special dessert was his mother’s way of expressing gratitude for the slivers of sunshine that had broken through the gray clouds today.

As the family gathered around the table to pray over their simple meal, Thomas could see that his father was discouraged. “There was trouble in town again today,” his father said. “Let us pray that the Lord will provide a way for us to leave Nauvoo before anyone is seriously harmed. We are packed and ready to go. There must be a way!”

Thomas bowed his head along with his parents and brothers and sisters, but in his heart he felt a twinge of fear. He did not want to leave Nauvoo.

Although most of their furniture and farming equipment had been sold to purchase a wagon and food supplies, their home was still cozy and warm, and there was always enough to eat. He had been just a little boy when his family was driven from their home in Missouri by an angry mob and forced to settle in the marshy wetlands of Commerce, Illinois. It had been cold then, too, and he remembered how he had cried for a cup of milk. But over the years, he had seen Commerce become the beautiful city of Nauvoo, a place where the Prophet Joseph Smith would stop and play stickball with Thomas and his friends, then invite them to his home for a glass of cool lemonade. Though it had been a year and a half since the Prophet’s death, he ducked his head to hide his tears.

“Thomas?” his Mama asked softly. “Are you well?”

His older sister, Mary Jane, quietly said, “He doesn’t want to go west, Mama.”

Papa put down his fork and folded his arms across his chest. “Is this true, Son?”

Thomas gulped. “Yes, Papa,” he whispered.

He heard his mother sigh, and he felt ashamed. It had already been decided that Mama would leave her piano and her cherished spinning wheel behind. But she reached across the table and put her hand on top of his. “We all wish we could stay in Nauvoo. Here we have a lovely home, a prosperous farm, good friends and family, even a beautiful new temple. But the Lord has promised us peace, and we will never find that here.”

Thomas nodded and tried to hold back the tears that still pushed against his eyelids. His father saw him struggling and slowly slid back his chair. “Mama, save us some of your custard. Thomas and I are going to check on the horses.”

Thomas put on his overcoat and scarf and followed his father out to the barn. The sky was clear, and the air was as sharp as a knife in his lungs. Inside the barn, his father lit a lantern and stamped his feet. “Mighty cold out tonight,” he said. “We must pray for our brothers and sisters who are spending this night in a tent or a wagon box.”

Thomas plopped down on a bale of hay. “Papa, if we had crossed the river with the others last week, we would be out there in a tent tonight!”

His father sat beside him, reaching out to stroke the mane of his favorite horse. “I know, Son. The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

“Then why can’t we wait until spring … or even summer? Why must we leave now?”

“You do not realize the danger that surrounds us. I was a close friend of the Prophet Joseph, and his enemies are my enemies.” Thomas felt his father tremble beside him. He looked up and saw the scar on his father’s cheek that had come from the leather thong of a bullwhip. He still remembered how his mother had cried over the wound, praying that God would forgive her for thinking terrible thoughts about the man who had whipped her husband. “And I think this is a test of our faith, Son. Will we follow the prophet—or not?”

Thomas blinked his eyes hard. Suddenly he remembered a very special occasion in his life.

Thomas felt his father’s arm around him. “Are you thinking about Brother Joseph, Thomas?”

“Yes,” was all he managed to whisper.

His father hugged him tighter. “When you are a grown man, your children and grandchildren will ask if you remember when you were baptized. Your heart will burst with pride when you tell them that you were baptized by the Prophet Joseph Smith. And then you will tell them how you followed another prophet of God through snow and cold and all sorts of trials so that they could live in a land of peace and enjoy all the blessings of the gospel without being afraid. For many generations, your family will honor you and be grateful for your sacrifices. Your life will be blessed, Thomas, in more ways than you will ever know.”

After Thomas finished his evening prayer, he crawled under the warm quilt. He could hear his mother and father talking downstairs. He was still afraid of what might happen on their journey west, but he felt a calm reassurance in his heart that all would be well.

The next morning, the family was awakened early by a whoop of joy. “It’s a miracle!” their neighbor, Brother Williams, shouted from the front gate. “The Mississippi River is frozen solid! Load up your wagons—we’re crossing over! The Lord has answered our prayers!”

Yes, He has, Thomas thought as he hurriedly dressed in the cold morning air.

The Spaniards’ attitude was reinforced when Simón was sent to Spain for further education. By this time he was a slim young man with a thin, suntanned face and dark piercing eyes. He was a better athlete and horseman than any of his admiring friends who benefitted from the almost limitless supply of money Simón provided for their pleasures.
One day while riding his horse, Simón was stopped by the police, searched, insulted, and told that he was no longer welcome in Spain. He was furious at the incident, for it pointed out more clearly than any of his tutor’s words the low regard that the Spanish rulers had for Creoles. Then began his dream to free all of South America from Spanish rule and make it one glorious republic much like the United States of America. Although this dream was not realized, Simón Bolívar is now often called “the George Washington of South America.”

Consider Girish Ghimire, who was born and raised in the country of Nepal. As a teenager, he studied in China, where a classmate introduced him to the gospel of Jesus Christ. Eventually, Girish came to Brigham Young University for graduate work and met his future wife. They settled in the Salt Lake Valley and adopted two children from Nepal.

Years later, when more than 1,500 refugees from camps in Nepal were relocated to Utah,1 Girish felt inspired to help. With native-language fluency and cultural understanding, Girish served as an interpreter, teacher, and mentor. After resettling in the community, some of the Nepali refugees demonstrated interest in the gospel. A Nepali-speaking branch was organized, and Girish later served as its branch president. He was also instrumental in translating the Book of Mormon into Nepali.

Can you see how Heavenly Father prepared and is using Girish?

In 1982, when we arrived in Dubai, no Latter-day Saint services were being held. We found three Latter-day Saints there: a sister from the United States and two Filipino brethren. Sacrament meetings began in our living room. Our children used to say that for a year they didn’t go to church—church came to us!
Within eighteen months, however, new move-ins helped our branch membership grow to twenty-four; and by 1985, the small branch had grown to thirty-six. We rent space in the American school for meetings. Our branch offers the full program of the Church for our age groups, including early morning seminary.

Sean’s older sister, Amanda, is in fifth grade. She likes ice skating and practices at the same rink as the New York Rangers hockey team. There are no other members of the Church in Amanda’s grade, and she has many opportunities to set an example of what a Latter-day Saint child is like. She remembers one party at which several girls were choosing a video. They wanted to watch a PG-13 movie. Amanda said, “I’m not allowed to watch PG-13 movies.”
One of her friends said, “But your mom will never know.” Her friends went ahead and watched the movie, but Amanda didn’t. She left the room. Soon her friend Kaitlyn joined her, and the two of them found something else to do. Sean is glad that he has an older sister and brother who set a good example.

Through my work I have been privileged to meet many of the pioneers of lands just opened to the gospel. I have learned from their example and their faithfulness. Sister Perla Manuel served as a missionary in the Philippines at the same time I did. I never have a problem paying tithing because I listened to Sister Manuel tell how her salary as a school teacher supported her elderly parents and when she joined the Church she was unsure how she could pay an honest tithe. Eventually, after a hard day at work teaching, she would crochet into the night and sell her work, thus earning enough money to pay an honest tithe and have the blessings of obedience to that important principle.

After being released from her mission, Perla obtained a masters degree and married. She was often recruited to go abroad to teach. Perla always felt that even though their financial circumstances were desperate, she needed to stay in the Philippines and build the Kingdom there. When her husband was called to be the Stake President she wrote me a short note. She said, "Now that my husband is the stake president, the presiding authority asked that my callings be reduced so that I can support him in his work. I hardly know what to do. All I do now is teach early morning seminary, gospel doctrine, spiritual living and lead the choir." Would we do as much to build the kingdom where we are.

In one of my school classes, we were reading a book that critiqued the Church. I knew I needed to speak up about the truths of the restored gospel. So I raised my hand. The teacher called on me, but I didn’t know what to say. For some reason, I started to sing the songs of the Articles of Faith. To my surprise, a profound reverence came over the room. Afterward there was less confusion, and my teacher and classmates treated class discussion and me with more respect.
Monique, Massachusetts, USA

When the bishopric handed me a list of young single adults for the ward, I was flabbergasted.
I had graduated from high school a year early, and as soon as I did, I was called as the young single adult Relief Society representative in my ward. Not even 18 years old, I was excited but somewhat daunted.
On Sundays, a handful of young single adults would drift into our Sunday School lesson. Of varying ages and interests, they had very little to do with each other outside of church. My aim, together with the priesthood representative and our YSA advisory couple, was to strengthen and enlarge our group. We wanted the YSAs to become friends who supported and strengthened each other in their efforts to live the gospel.
And then I received the list. Page after page of names stared back at me; the percentage of active YSAs seemed tiny. I realized that this record was made up of real people who were working, studying, and struggling through the decisions inherent to young adulthood. They needed the gospel in their lives. Not only that: we needed them, too.
I set a goal to contact a certain number of people every month and started to work my way down the list. Every name was foreign to me; so, where better to start than at the top? I would report my progress at ward council each month. Phone numbers were incorrect; numbers would ring eternally; people would politely tell me they weren’t interested. My ‘progress’ consisted of informing the clerk that someone had left the ward or that we needed to track down new contact details.
One day, as the bishop listened to my report, he suddenly asked: “Have you contacted Karen?” (Name has been changed.) Surprised, I said no; Karen was quite a way down the list, and I hadn’t got that far. “I think you should call her,” he said. I noted her name along with a few others.
The month flew by, and the Saturday before the next meeting I looked at my notes and realized I hadn’t yet called Karen. No doubt it would be another failed attempt, but the bishop would want to know.
I dialed the number and jumped when she answered. Nervously, I introduced myself.
“Hi!” she said. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you!” Karen explained she had recently looked up the number of the local chapel in the telephone book and tried to phone a few times. Each time she called it just rang. I knew that feeling.
We chatted easily for a few minutes, and then I invited her to church the next day.
“Sure!” she said. “See you then!” I almost leapt with excitement!
The following morning, I was filled with trepidation. A large part of me expected Karen to get cold feet. But a few minutes before church, in walked a beautiful, smiling young woman with sparkling eyes. She greeted me with a hug. I couldn’t stop beaming.
Karen came to church every week after that. She became an active, contributing part of our young single adult group and a good friend. As we grew into a large, united group of friends, she helped to strengthen and lift others with her testimony.
All it took was the influence of the Spirit. And one—just one—phone call.

Victoria, British Columbia—
Sometimes before you share the gospel, you have to share your dreams.
That’s how it started for Gillian Hitchmough, a Laurel in the Victoria Third Ward, Victoria British Columbia Stake, and Reta Stevenson, her friend from school. Because they had classes together, they had plenty of time to talk about what was on their minds.
“At first, we didn’t really talk about religion, we just talked about what was going on in our lives,” says Gillian. “But then there was a boy at our school who was another religion, and I remember him really harping on me about being a Mormon. It was hard for me, and I told Reta how bad it made me feel.”
Reta says she could tell from those conversations how strongly Gillian felt about her religion. Pretty soon she was asking questions, and Gillian extended the invitation for Reta to come to youth conference. Reta readily accepted.
“At youth conference I learned a lot of stuff that I could really use in my life. I felt the Spirit so strongly at the testimony meeting. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before. I knew there was something really real there.”
Enter another LDS friend, Matt Hall—whose mom happens to be the seminary teacher—and Gillian got just the backup support she was looking for.
“My family and I had Reta over for family home evening one night and showed her a [Church] video. The missionaries were here, but so was Gillian, so it was just kind of business as usual. One of the missionaries bore his testimony. It was really great,” says Matt.
Pretty soon Reta was attending seminary, week-night activities, and church on Sunday. Reta knew the Church was true, but she was having a hard time overcoming a few things, especially the idea of being the only member in her family. She knew that if she joined the Church her family couldn’t come in the temple with her when she got married. And since she was so young in the gospel herself, it was sometimes hard for her to explain her new beliefs to her mom.
“My decision to be baptized came when the questions I had were answered. This big feeling of relief came over me, and I knew I was doing the right thing. It was a big step, but it was a good big step,” says Reta.
And so, on a beautiful summer day, Matt baptized Reta. She says she’s never been happier.
Matt and Gillian were happy too. They now know firsthand the joy that comes from extending the gospel message to their friends and seeing them accept. And both of them are eager to receive mission calls when they’re old enough.
“My life has really changed since I joined the Church. It’s made me a better person, and it’s filled some empty spots in my life. It gives me hope for the future,” says Reta.

In order to put this in some kind of order, I thought I would share first with you the story of a woman I have known my whole life. Maybe some of her struggles will mirror some of yours or someone you know and are close to. The story starts like this: her challenges in life, unbeknownst to her, started when she was just a six-year-old little girl, unaware of the problems that were soon to be placed in her path by no decision of her own. Through the choices of someone else, she was placed in a state of sexual abuse that would last for about the next two years of her life. This created a change in her that her parents could see but could not identify why. According to her parents, she became angry, not as outgoing and fun-loving as she once was. They identified this with starting grade school but did not find out till almost 20 years later that the change in her had come from this abuse. The abuse stopped when she was eight years old, just before she was baptized. Her abuser thought if it was stopped by then, the damage would be corrected, but by then it was too late; the damage had already been done.

This created in her, an incorrect perception of how she needed to obtain love and attention. By the time she was 14 years old, she was sexually active, and pregnant by the time she was 16. She dropped out of school her sophomore year to get married and said goodbye to her childhood forever. She now was a child raising a child. Her parents had tried to talk her out of getting married so young. They wanted her to finish school and had offered to adopt her child as their own so that she could have the opportunity to finish, but she knew best. There was nothing they could do to convince her otherwise. She wanted out of the house and was going to get out one way or the other.

The next few years would show the delivery of a little girl, followed by a divorce, then a remarriage to the same man--who was and still to this point was a major drug addict--followed by three more children.

This time was very difficult for her because, as I had mentioned, he was a drug addict and became even more emotionally, mentally, and physically abusive, so the support that was needed was not available. I do not have the time in this devotional to even address a portion of what that all entailed, only that it was an extremely difficult time in her life. This time the marriage would end for good, with her husband being unfaithful. She was finally done. She could not handle any more and filed for divorce in 1988. She felt like the world had been lifted off of her shoulders, but like so many others that have fallen into abusive-like patterns, she had too, and jumped right back into another relationship with another guy who didn't have any better habits than her ex. And before long, he was slowly moving in, little by little.

She was working for a grocery food chain and had a good working reputation. She succeeded at pretty much any position that she put her hand to, but her personal life was not all what she wanted it to be. Then one day a situation happened to her that changed her whole life and put her back on the road to her Father in Heaven. She was checking out groceries, and a person came through the line next to her that would change her life forever. She went home that weekend and had an experience that helped her understand personally what Alma the Younger went through.

It was at this time that she immediately got all of the belongings together of the guy she was in the relationship with and took them next door to his friend's house, where his jeep was parked, and distributed his belongings back to him. She was afraid if she did this any other way, she might lose her nerve and not go through with it. After cleaning up in the material sense, she located the bishop over the area where she lived and made the appointment with him so she could clean up in the spiritual sense. By this time, she had been inactive for about 10 years. She knew there was a chance that she could be excommunicated, but it didn't matter anymore; all she wanted was to get her life back in order and right with the Lord. The kind of life she really wanted was never going to happen if she kept living the life she was. She needed to jump in with both feet and use the Atonement in her life, to whatever end, or beginning, that may bring. She knew she was not ready for the blessings of the kind of marriage she wanted to come into her life at that time, but she would be ready for those blessings in the future, if or when the opportunity would arise again.

So, in case you have not guessed, the young girl in the story is me. I say "is" instead of "was" because I want to claim all parts of that experience that has played a major role in who I am today. It continues to play a significant role in how I live through the choices I make in my life every day.

My appointment with my bishop proved to be an amazing experience. I likened it to one of my favorite scriptures during that time in my life, for I spent many hours in them. I had a hunger to feel of the Spirit and the sweetness of the Atonement working in my life on a daily basis.

The struggles increased for a while because the devil does not want to let go of someone that he has had so much control over. Sometimes the battle was almost too much to bear, but I was blessed with a very loving earthly father, who at times would give me a blessing daily so that I could resist the temptations and craziness that my previous life had helped create for me.

My dad was my hero! He had been quite sick most of my life and almost died one night, but he shared with me a blessing that was given to him, stating that his life was to be extended for three years so he could get the rest of his family in order. The rest of his family was me. He passed away a year after I married my spouse, who sits with me here on the stage today--three years total after the blessing he had received.

I had finally received my patriarchal blessing, and many other wonderful experiences had started to take place in my life, but I still doubted my worthiness to enter God's holy temple. I was kind of being silly yet very serious in the prayer I offered upon entering one day. I prayed that if I had not yet repented enough for what I had done, "Please let the men at the recommend desk not let me in. Please let them feel that I am not worthy to be here." Well, I made it past the first desk, so then I was praying that one of the workers may have a feeling that I shouldn't be here. (Do you ever find that you hold on to sin or mistakes to re-punish and re-punish yourself, making it a tool for the devil instead of using the Atonement as a tool from God?)

What I was hoping for was some validation that I was in good standing with the Lord, enough to be in His holy house. I was doing initiatory work that day when, out of the blue, the temple worker asked me if I was okay. I didn't answer right away, so she followed by asking me a very inspired question. She asked, "Have you taken proper means to take care of the sins of your past?" I about fell over. How did she know what I was praying for? I knew right then I was getting an answer to my prayers, just like l had asked God for, validated to me by one of His servants. I said to her, "Yes." Then she said something very profound to me in that moment that changed my heart. She said, "Then let it go!"

When they say that there is opposition in all things, I knew in that moment exactly what that meant to me, for in that moment no words could describe the joy I felt. I knew I had taken the proper steps for repentance, and it was time to "let it go!"

I love that the new Children and Youth program lets me set goals for myself and work on them with my family. One of my goals is to put on a scripture play every Sunday with my younger brother Sam.
One time we chose Daniel in the lions’ den. It was fun planning it. But then our little brother Michael, who is four, said, “Can I do the play with you?”
At first we said no.
But Michael started to cry.
So I said, “Sam! Come to the basement.”
Sam and I went down to the basement. Sam said, “Michael can’t be in the play. He can’t memorize his lines!”
But I had an idea. I said, “Let him join the play. Listen, he could be a lion! You can’t have Daniel and the lions’ den without a lion. Let’s go get him!”
On Sunday, the day of the show, we took our spots and started the show. We did a very good job. Michael did great roaring.
I know the Spirit was with me when I said Michael could be in the play. This experience taught me that if someone seems sad or lonely, we should include them. I hope you try the new Children and Youth program. I know it will help you be more like Jesus too!

Trent sat high in the oak tree, dangling one leg over a thick branch. When Jared and Tom called to him from below, he didn’t even hear them. He was daydreaming about a book he had been reading. His Grandma Jessop had given him Pioneer Children for his birthday. After reading the book for a while, he had left it on his bed and climbed the tree to think about the pioneer children and their amazing experiences.
One boy in the book had saved his two little sisters when their house and fields caught fire. Another had found food for his family because his father was away fighting in a war.
The stories told about the many dangers that the pioneer children faced—bears, coyotes, starvation. Trent wished that he had lived then. He would have met the challenges! He could scare away coyotes and bears. He had learned in Scouts how to make a cave in learned in Scouts how to make a cave in the snow where he could keep himself and his little brother warm if they got lost, just like a girl had done in one of the stories. He would share a piece ot bread with a hungry child, even if it were all he had.
But it would never happen to Trent. His mother could buy him anything he wanted in the market—any type of bread, fresh fruits and vegetables throughout the year, even treats.
Finally, the voices below broke through Trent’s reverie.
“Trent! What’s the matter with you?” Jared called. “Have you gone deaf or something?”
“No. Why?”
“We’ve been shouting at you to come down,” Tom said.
“What for?”
“Who knows? We’ll just walk around till we find something to do.”
I’m sure you will, Trent thought. Jared and Tom were his best friends, but lately they were often into some kind of mischief. Trent climbed part of the way down the tree and then dropped to the ground.
“What were you doing up there, anyway?” Jared asked.
“I was thinking about this book I’ve been reading,” Trent answered. “It’s all about—”
“A book!” Jared sneered. “Don’t you have anything better to do than read books?”
Trent looked searchingly at Jared, trying to see beyond the dark eyes and freckles that he had come to know so well. Tom, too, was almost as familiar as a brother, although he had moved into the neighborhood only six months ago.
“What’s wrong with you, Jared?” asked Trent. “You used to like to read. You used to like the other things I like too.”
Jared just ignored Trent’s question.
“Hey, look,” Tom said, pointing. “Here comes Reggie. Let’s have some fun with him.”
Trent winced.
Reggie was working hard to pedal his bicycle up the hill, sweat gathering on his forehead, a paper sack held tightly in one hand. Reggie tried his best, but he just couldn’t do a lot of things very well, and he attended a special class for slow learners.
“Hey, you,” Tom said as Reggie neared them, “stupid kids like you aren’t allowed on this street. You’ll have to go back around the other way.”
Reggie stopped pedaling and put his feet to the ground. He looked around, confused.
“What’s the matter?” Tom went on, “Don’t you know the way?”
Jared giggled. Reggie was older than they were. He was bigger, too, but he looked afraid.
“What’s in the sack?” Tom asked.
“Candy.”
“Oh, let’s see,” Jared said, grabbing the sack away from Reggie. “Maybe you have my favorite kind of candy in there.”
Jared dumped out the candy, and he and Tom began dividing it between them.
Reggie blinked a few times, and Trent saw tears in his eyes. “My daddy gave me the money,” Reggie quavered. “I earned it.”
“Ha!” Tom jeered. “What did you have to do to earn it? Tie your own shoelaces?”
“Button your own shirt?” Jared added.
Trent felt tears starting in his own eyes. He didn’t want to go against his two best friends, but he knew what he had to do. “Stop it!” he shouted.
Tom and Jared looked at him, surprised. Even Reggie looked surprised. Trent grabbed the candy out of his friends’ hands.
“Come on,” Tom said. “We’re just having a little fun.”
“Well it’s not much fun for Reggie, is it?” Trent asked as he handed the sack with candy back to Reggie.
“No,” Reggie said, wiping the tears off his cheeks.
“Come on,” Trent said, his hand on Reggie’s shoulder. “I’ll walk with you.”
As they walked, balancing the bike between them, Trent and Reggie talked. They talked about bicycles, and Reggie told Trent about his new puppy.
When they waved good-bye, Trent felt good about what he’d done. He realized that although he hadn’t faced starvation or bears, as the pioneer children in his book had, by acting against his friends to help Reggie, he had acted with courage too. It was just another kind of courage.

When I returned from my mission, I was again blessed by following the counsel from prophets. For example, when I finished my mission, I decided to marry, even though I hadn’t finished my schooling. In Korea, the tradition is to be financially stable and complete your schooling before marrying and starting a family. But I knew I needed to follow the counsel of the prophet and work toward marriage right away. My wife and I had met when we were in the youth program and were good friends before my mission, so we knew each other well. We were married shortly after I came home, even though her friends said, “Are you crazy? You don’t have any money.”
We went against the cultural tradition because we knew we needed to follow the Lord’s counsel. Our lives have been blessed by following the counsel of the prophet, and we have had experiences we might not otherwise have had.

Not only will elders quorum and Relief Society presidencies take the primary role in moving forward the work of salvation, but they will also be much more involved in ministering to, counselling with and helping men and women with their personal problems and challenges. For too long, members have gone to the bishop with every problem they have, but those best equipped to help them are the elders quorum and Relief Society presidencies. Let me give you an example of an elders quorum president who understood his responsibility to minister, to teach and to help each member.
On February 11, 2017, I attended a priesthood meeting in New Delhi, India. As the quorum meeting started, the quorum president stood before his quorum and wrote on the white board: “Shepherd’s List,” and then listed the names of four quorum members having employment challenges. He explained the difficulties that were faced by these families and asked whether anyone knew of employment opportunities for these four brethren. Immediately, hands went up, and different brothers said things like, “My company is hiring. I know that he has the skills needed. I can introduce him to the right people for an interview.” This went on for each brother facing difficulty, and employment opportunities were identified for each one.
Truly, this quorum president ministered to these brethren and their families. When his quorum members had a problem, he took it to the quorum to find help. He took the initiative and, in a kind and loving way, engaged the quorum to help each one who was in need. The power of working through the quorum to solve individual needs was evident, and there was a true spirit of love for each other. This quorum ministered to the needs of its members, and lives were blessed.