Gospel Story Finder

Steven Brantzeg is seven years old, and he can read well. But even when he was four, people thought he could read. You could ask him to find the story of Jonah in his Bible, and he could turn right to the page. You could ask him to find the stories of Joseph and his eleven brothers or Lehi and his journey to the promised land, and he could show you right where they are found in his set of the scriptures. Most of his friends at Primary could do the same thing. How?
As part of Sharing Time in the Valley View Sixth Ward in Salt Lake City, where Steven and his family attend church, children were told many of the stories from the Bible and the Book of Mormon. Then their teachers helped them to find the pages where those stories are found in their own scriptures. The children marked those pages in a way that would remind them of the stories. On pages 10 and 11 in Steven’s Bible, for example, you will find pictures of an ark, a cloud raining drops of water, and a birthday cake with six candles. Even before he could read, Steven could tell you about the building of the ark and the rain that came for forty days and nights when Noah was six hundred years old. He could turn right to the page too! When the project in Primary was completed, Steven and his mom and dad, Annette and George Brantzeg, continued to read stories from the scriptures and to mark them in Steven’s copies.

Several stakes chose to serve the older members of their areas. In the Salt Lake Holladay North Stake, each Young Women class adopted a “grandmother” or “grandfather” to help throughout the year. They took turns helping with transportation and home cleaning. In addition, the girls arranged to tape record the older members’ personal histories. They transcribed the tapes and made a typewritten copy for each grandmother and grandfather to keep, with enough extra copies to give to their children.

My mom told my brother and me that if we would read two issues of the Friend from cover to cover she would let us pick something from our school book order. I read the November and December 2005 issues. When I was looking through the book order to choose a book, I saw some Christmas books that I knew my little sister Emmalie would like. Christmas was just a few weeks away. I asked my mom if I could choose those books and give them to my sister for Christmas. My mom said that would be very generous and something that Jesus would do. It felt good to see my sister’s face when she unwrapped her books on Christmas. I made someone else happy, and I think that’s what Jesus would do.

I returned from the mission field with many hopes regarding employment. Even though I had worked before, I had no qualifications, so I did what I could to find work, but I was never satisfied and could not see any progress in my future.
I always wanted to study, but I could not pay for schooling, and my family was not in a position to help me.
When the Perpetual Education Fund was started, I saw an opportunity to change my future. I relied upon my Heavenly Father to help me, and thus I chose a course of study with His inspiration.
I chose to study nursing. My schooling required a lot of study and dedication. But I became impassioned with nursing. Three months after graduating, I was able to find employment at one of the best hospitals in Alagoas, Brazil.
I have many plans for the future. I plan to take advanced studies in nursing, and I have started to pay back my loan so others can partake of the opportunity of receiving an education and the blessings that come with it.

One day when President M. Russell Ballard (1928–2023) was a junior in high school, his friend Nedra asked him, “Russ, why aren’t you going to seminary?”
At the time, President Ballard’s parents didn’t attend church. He went occasionally with good friends, but he didn’t go to seminary. So Nedra invited him, and the next day he arrived at 6:30 a.m. for early-morning seminary. From then on, he participated in seminary every day—even on cold, snowy winter mornings.
“The things I learned in seminary touched my heart,” President Ballard said. “My testimony grew as I learned more about Jesus Christ and His restored gospel. This prepared me to serve my mission in England and to continue in a lifetime of service to the Lord and His Church.”
Nedra likely had no idea what would come of her simple invitation, but her example shows that opportunities are everywhere to share the light and joy that Jesus Christ and His gospel bring.

Early in my life, at age three, I began a string of experiences when I contracted polio that would always make me feel a keen sense of dependence on the Lord. This happened about six months before the vaccine was released that has now nearly eliminated this devastating disease in the United States. When we have the capacity to accomplish great good, there is always commensurate opposition and adversity to try to prevent us from fulfilling our potential. I have never begrudged having this challenge in my life because I think it has blessed me in my spiritual and musical development more than it could ever hinder me.

I needed and felt extra power from the Lord from early in my life. Because of the polio, I went through a series of surgical operations. Each time I faced one of these corrective procedures my father would give me a priesthood blessing. I remember one postsurgery follow-up visit when my doctor, Paul R. Milligan—a fine man not of our faith—commented, “Raymond, I always love to operate on you because everything we do works so well and you heal so quickly.” I knew the source of that power. Through such experiences my faith developed, I recognized my clear dependence on the Lord, and I learned to pray.

He found that his life experiences had also prepared him in ways he couldn’t foresee. President Kaumaitotoya had a very difficult childhood. As a young teenager, he climbed a hill one day to pray and to ask God why he had to go through such hard things.
He recalled, “I was really angry with God. I couldn’t understand why the Lord would let me go through such hard things. I was asking Him why?”
Kaumaitotoya didn’t understand, at first, the answer that came on the hill that day: “For your experience.”
As he served, he made sense of what “for your experience” meant, when a teary congregant walked into his office to seek his ecclesiastical counsel about a similar family situation. Afterwards, it dawned on Kaumaitotoya what the answer to his boyhood prayer meant. His path and his challenges had prepared him to minister to and serve people with understanding and love.

As I casually peered out the window, an unexpected stomach spasm began at the sight of an all-too-familiar car pulling into our driveway. It shot from the pit of my stomach, tickling its way upward, stopping briefly to flip-flop my heart, then climaxed in my throat with a delighted scream. Matthew Conally was here! Actually here at my house! He was only the most coveted hero on campus. And he was actually here!
I began to run to the door, but just as I realized it wouldn’t look cool, I tripped, falling flat on my face, and from my now horizontal position, I had a horrifyingly realistic view of our living room floor. It was covered with blocks, Lincoln logs, doll clothes, doll furniture, a dollhouse, and among other things, that rotten Tonka truck I had just tripped over.
As I picked myself up, another unexpected spasm began. Only it began in my throat, draining all the moisture, and dropped downward until it landed with a painful thump in the pit of my stomach. The living room was a total disaster area! What kind of an impression would it make? Grabbing up an armful of coats, newspapers, and books, I relocated them into the next room. Next, I began kicking anything else that would fit into and under the sofa and then threw the cushions back into their natural position on top. As I ran past the window, I could see that Matthew was having a hard time climbing over the tricycles in the driveway. I dumped another quick load down the hall just as the doorbell rang. A final glance around the room revealed that I had cleared out most of the clutter.
Putting on my calmest smile and trying to concentrate all my 16 years into a look of maturity, I opened the door. Then there we were, face to face, Matthew Conally and me, his biggest fan.
“Well hi!” I said in my sweetest, most surprised voice.
“Hi. How are you?” came his refined reply.
“Just fine. Won’t you come in?” I most invitingly smiled back.
Matthew strolled through the door and handed me a book.
“Well, I just dropped by to bring you back your book. You left it in the car the other night. You know, the night I brought the gang home.”
“Oh, really? Gee, thanks for bringing it by. I was beginning to wonder where I had left it.” That was my coolest response yet, but I was letting my cool go too far. I knew darn well that I had left it on purpose as an excuse to see him again.
But of all times, why had he chosen this day to return it! The whole house was such a mess because I was in charge. Mother was in the hospital with a new baby. It was very evident that I wasn’t as organized as she. I watched Matthew’s puzzled expression as he looked around the room and into the kitchen. That was the worst spot in the whole house! Nothing in the kitchen was in its proper place. Aside from every dish, pot, and pan piled high in the sink, every box, package, mixing bowl, and canister was stacked on the counters.
With a crush like I had on Matthew, I knew enough about his life history to write a book. He was an only child, and it didn’t take much to know he’d never seen a mess like this one. Matthew was suddenly aware I was watching him. He calmly lifted his eyebrows and tried to explain.
“Oh, I, I was just wondering if, if I could have a drink of water.” He seemed pleased at his quick response.
“Sure,” I said, “but you’ll have to excuse the mess.” This seemed like the only natural thing to say. I reluctantly led him into the kitchen and was even further embarrassed to find that there weren’t any clean cups. Quickly I grabbed a clean bowl and filled it. Then I handed it to him with an apologetic smile.
“You’re lucky today,” I chuckled encouragingly, “sometimes it gets down to plates!” Matthew didn’t say anything. I was going to explain about Mom and the new baby and me being in charge of eight younger brothers and sisters, plus the house, when Kent and Steve came running into the kitchen chasing each other. They made it around our legs twice and over the kitchen table, throwing chairs for barricades. After they had made two more laps, I was furious and, without thinking, handed the baby I had rescued from the floor to Matthew and excused myself.
I ran after the boys, even though their size was in their favor. They darted around the furniture in the bedroom—over, under, through, and between. I finally caught two handfuls of hair and found, much to my delight, a brother attached to each. After threatening them with the termination of their lives, I returned to the living room, panting. There I found Matthew still holding little Jerry in the same position. He hadn’t moved an inch. It was obvious he didn’t know what to do with the baby. When he saw me, he quickly handed him back, giving Jerry a nasty little smile.
“What in the world is he wearing?” he asked.
“Oh … ah … it’s a towel. We’re all out of clean diapers.”
We sat down as I tried to explain about the circumstances.
“You see, the washing hasn’t been done yet. My mom is in the—” Again my explanation was interrupted. Matthew’s eyes suddenly grew terrified, and he opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something. Quickly I grabbed Jerry, prying his teeth away from Matthew’s arm. Little Jerry was teething and happened to like the feel of flesh against his sore little mouth. But Matthew didn’t understand.
“I think he likes you,” I told him reassuringly.
“And I think you’re right,” he replied as the baby once again squirmed his way back onto his lap. But this time, very much to Matthew’s relief, Jerry sat quietly, beaming his toothy grin. Then into the room came Kent and Steve and Lori and Cathy, dancing and singing, “Ginnie’s got a boyfriend! Ginnie’s got a boyfriend!” One glance at the look on my face, and they knew it was time to leave.
My anger and embarrassment were suddenly forgotten as I heard Matthew’s terrified voice announce, “I think he’s wet!” Again I quickly rescued Jerry from his lap. Jerry wasn’t wearing plastic pants and, boy, was Matthew soaked!
“Where’s the bathroom?”
“Gosh, I’m sorry about all this.”
Matthew followed me down the hall. Then as I opened the door I found myself staring at another embarrassing mess! I had forgotten I had hung flannel sheets in place of towels on the racks. Again I was apologizing.
“I used all the towels as diapers!”
“What kind of a madhouse do you live in?” I was surprised to find his good looks fading away with his anger. “This place ought to be condemned!”
Matthew stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him as I began to apologize. The doorbell rang. I slowly walked down the hall back to the living room and sank down onto the sofa. I just couldn’t face anyone now.
The bathroom door swung angrily open. Out charged Matthew with a huge wet spot on his pants. It looked terrible. He said nothing, just stormed out of the house.
“My mom had a baby,” I quietly called after him. “It was a girl.”
The front door had been left open and in through it came Charlie. Good old Charlie Miller, the best piggyback-ride-giver and sidewalk-snow-shoveler in the neighborhood, with a smile big enough to make a pumpkin jealous.
“Hi, Ginnie! I rang the bell, but nobody answered. Hey, what’s wrong? What was Matthew Conally doing here?”
He sat down and listened as I told him about the whole horrible mess. Suddenly I was surprised to hear the sound of laughter. Charlie thought it was funny! And then I was laughing, too. We howled until we thought we’d break. The tears were rolling down my face from pure delight. How come everything suddenly seemed so funny?
Charlie had come over with a pie his mother had baked. But it was after he had changed Jerry’s diapers and was helping with the dishes that I realized he was truly something special. Quietly I slipped my name bracelet into his coat pocket—just in case he needed a reason to come back over.

It started when I was a devout, hardcore Calvinist. Though I’d returned to full activity a couple years before, questions I’d had since childhood lingered in the background of my mind. Over the previous months and years leading to meeting the missionaries, they grew and multiplied after receiving no satisfactory answer from asking or researching them. These endeavours to discover more truth left me with more confusion. They were corrosive to my faith. Its crescendo was when these queries led to a faith crisis. I doubted everything from the most minor of doctrines to the very existence of God.
One night, I earnestly and desperately prayed to know who He is, for help. By then, I was closer to agnosticism than Christianity. Mere days later, I met the missionaries when somebody I used to vaguely know from school (and hadn’t spoken to in over three years) added me to a group chat with Elders McIntosh and Beam. God sent me who I needed when I needed them.
The two things I remember from the conversation played a huge role in my conversion. When I joined a video call (late) Elder Beam was reading Moroni’s promise (see Moroni 10:3–5). His companion, Elder McIntosh, and he carried a sweet and sacred Spirit which impacted me. I didn’t recognise it at the time (two months would pass before I’d learn to recognise it) but it drew me to them. I wanted to know them; I wanted to know what they had to say.
From then on, I started meeting with them and learning of the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, of the Book of Mormon, of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Everything was so foreign to me, but I felt the Spirit every time. I started reading it for myself when (newly transferred in) Elder Baldwin invited me to read the Book of Enos. From there, I couldn’t stop reading. Even though I still didn’t believe it, I couldn’t stop. I knew something was different about the Book of Mormon. I thought about it constantly. It strengthened my faith in a loving God.
Over the next few months, I did a deep dive into researching the Church of Jesus Christ, the positives and negatives. In doing so, in meeting the missionaries and following through on the commitments I made, in praying, in reading the Book of Mormon alongside the Bible, every single question I had was answered fully. The biggest questions such as the nature of God (I was never fully satisfied with descriptions of a triune God) were answered. The smallest questions I had were answered just the same. It was a miracle.
When I was finally blessed with the foundations of a testimony in this great latter-day work, it was not yet the end of my journey to baptism. Why? Because I was aware I would have to sacrifice many friendships and relationships I’d had with people my entire life. I knew there were people who meant a great deal to me who would never want anything to do with me again — and they didn’t. I had spiritual leaders in my life tell me I was turning my back on Jesus Christ and what He’d done for me. More than anything else, that hurt me deeply. I investigated and learned more of the Church because I love my Saviour so much. If I didn’t love and believe the Bible as much as I did, or have the foundations I had, I would never have believed the Book of Mormon.
A few weeks later, I realised something: Jesus Christ walked the walk to Calvary for me, the least I could do is walk the walk to the baptism font, and beyond, even if I had to do so alone, without the friends I’d had for decades. I did so. Every sacrifice I made to join the Church of my Lord Jesus Christ was far outweighed by the bounteous and sacred blessings He gave me.
It was a long journey which took very close to 10 months. But the walk through the valley took me to the truth, to the temple, to my beautiful wife, and closer to my Saviour, Jesus Christ.
I know this is His Church. I know He is the Saviour and Redeemer of mankind. I know God is our loving Heavenly Father. I know we can come closer to them by reading the scriptures. I know we can be blessed and come closer to them by living the covenants we make in the font and in the holy temple. This is the true Church of Jesus Christ.

On a small island out in the harbor, the Statue of Liberty raises a torch for all the world to see. If she turned her head to the left, she would stare straight across the water at the gleaming twin towers of the World Trade Center. On a brisk Monday last January, she could have seen the Manhattan Second Ward Mutual gazing down from the 107th floor at the sprawling maze of streets sardined between skyscrapers that stretches on forever—the city of New York that these teenagers call home.
“There, that’s Lower Manhattan. That’s where I live!” exclaimed Mary Esquilin, pointing to the north. “And see that apartment over there? That’s where Deborah Woodhouse lives.” It was hard for an untrained eye to pick out individual buildings. I could find the bridge-laced East River breaking the pattern of towers that rise like so many mountain ranges. And the famous green rectangle of Central Park, that refuge of trees and grass and lanes and lakes in an otherwise concrete and asphalt cosmos, was clearly visible. But when it came to picking out one tiny building …
“Okay,” said Harry Lee. “You know where Central Park is. The chapel is just two blocks from there.”
I thought back to Saturday morning when I had seen the chapel for the first time. It was just another building in a world of buildings, Number 2 Lincoln Square, across the street from the Julliard School of Music and kitty-corner to Lincoln Center and the Metropolitan Opera, until over the door I noticed the bold yellow letters spelling out “Mormon Visitors’ Center.” I knew I had found the complex that houses the center, the New York New York City Mission offices, and the Manhattan First, Second, and Spanish wards (the chapel, cultural hall, and classrooms are on the third floor).
When I arrived upstairs, the Mutual group was reviewing last year’s activities and planning for the rest of the winter, then spring and summer. They had done plenty of reminiscing.
“We have a lot of activities in Central Park,” 17-year-old Lily Lee explained. “It’s a novelty to have such a large, beautiful park so close at hand. It’s part of our culture. The New York Philharmonic gives free concerts there in the summer, and there are free Shakespeare performances. We saw two plays there last year.”
Lily’s brother Harry, who is 15, mentioned other activities. “There is a zoo and there is public ice-skating in the park. We have picnics, play softball with the bishopric, play volleyball, or sometimes just walk around.”
There are also lots of museums in the area, including the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which is at the far end of the park. “The church is located pretty much in the center of everything, so it’s not hard to get around,” Lily said. “We try to plan things early in the day so it won’t be necessary to travel at night on the subways, and we always travel in groups.”
Deborah Woodhouse, 15, remembered other successful activities, like Christmas caroling, a night at the Nutcracker ballet, cleaning trash from streets near the chapel, and a trip to the United Nations building. Kirsten Anderson, age 12, said she enjoyed the personal feeling of birthday parties and holiday celebrations. “We had a fun Halloween party, and we had a good volleyball game with the Young Men one time. We made dinner for them afterward. The things we do aren’t usually big things, but when you do them with each other and use the time you’ve got, it’s important,” Kirsten said.
Lily said she particularly enjoys joint activities with the Spanish Ward. The seminary students from both wards often meet on Super Saturdays or at youth conferences. Despite the language barriers, they enjoy themselves.
Sister Linda Rane, the Young Women president, explained that the ward includes the Broadway theater district in its boundaries and that LDS actors sometimes help the Mutual with roadshows and skits. Ballet students, medical students, and musicians often live within the ward boundaries while studying, and “once we had a fashion designer who helped the Mutual girls make their own dresses and put on a show.”
The meeting at the chapel had adjourned with prayer. It was followed by a stroll through Central Park. We watched equestrians trotting along a horse trail, joggers pacing themselves along a road closed to traffic, and spritely drivers whose brightly colored hackneys painted a portrait of another era when hay, not gasoline, furnished horsepower.
As we rested near some park benches, the sun melted through the chilled air. I couldn’t help asking questions:
“I was born and raised in New York,” Deborah, 15, said. “But I have visited several other places as well. The people of the Church are the same everywhere. You may have different races and cultures, but you always get the same warm feeling all around.
“At school, people tend to look up to you. Kids are curious, and teachers get to know you and are interested in what you believe. I have a friend who says I must have a nice family because we’re not always fighting. I guess I talk about my brothers a lot, and she can sense the family love we feel.
“The greatest challenge that I feel is avoiding the lesser sins. It’s harder here because there are so many temptations, but it’s easier to resist the big temptations because they are so obvious.”
Mary said, “There are so many things to do and see. But there are challenges too. Most of us are converts. Sometimes we’re the only members in our families. So we rely on other Church members to talk to when we need someone who understands about the gospel.”
Mary, 18, and her sister Eileen, 12, joined the Church ten months ago. They were first interested by a friend who was a member and eventually came to meetings with her. “All I had heard about Mormons was awful,” Mary said. “But as I started going to Church, I had this wonderful feeling. I couldn’t even recognize myself. This was a new Mary. I’ve been a member for less than a year, but for me it seems like a lifetime,” she said.
Louis Perez, 13, and Frank Cerda, 14, said they feel New York is popular because it’s so busy all the time and because so many organizations are headquartered there. “There are people here from all over the world,” Frank said. “I think it’s terrific.”
Lily said, “A lot of people wonder if you can find the Spirit of the Lord here. You can. The things He manifests to everyone, He manifests here, too. New York has a lot of good people, and the pure in heart will build Zion wherever they are.”
“I talk to my friends at school,” Mary Ann Iavarone, 14, said. “I share my testimony with them. We talk about religions almost every day. Lots of kids tell me that our Church sounds great. I tell them I have fun here, too, but that the most important thing is that it’s true.”
“I think Eileen (Esquilin) showed me a good example of fellowshipping,” Daisy Cerda, 12, said. “I met her the first time I came to Church, and she was my friend. Then I met Kirsten, and so on. Everybody’s my friend now.”
“Having gone through the conversion process myself makes it easier to talk to others about the gospel,” Mary said. “I can tell them my experiences, that I used to feel the way they feel.”
Lily is student-body president at a high school where she is the only LDS student. “It’s a challenge, but it’s not as difficult as everyone says,” she said. “Living in a place like New York, there are so many backgrounds and cultures that when you say you believe in something, people accept it. At my school, for example, there are a lot of Greek Orthodox students, and it’s not unusual for someone to say they’re not going to a party because it’s on Sunday or to say they don’t smoke or drink. They understand. So it’s important to share all the facets of the gospel with them.”
Deborah, also the only LDS student in her school, said missionary work is a great challenge: “I’ve got 3,500 students to convert.” But she said that many students know about BYU because of its athletic programs and many of her Jewish friends want to discuss the Old Testament with her because she has studied it in seminary.
“I find that for a lot of my friends it’s difficult to get in front of a classroom to give an oral report,” Lily said. “I have to do it in front of the whole student body, but it hasn’t been hard. At first I didn’t know why. Then I realized what training I have had. I’ve been giving 2 1/2-minute talks all my life. Forget about the religious part of the Church programs and just look at their positive influence. Then add in the truthfulness of the gospel, too, and you have the best thing on earth.”
Terry Burdick, 14, who attends the Second Ward Mutual because he is the only Mutual-age teen in the First Ward, said that growing up in an all-member family has helped all of them feel close. “I have a growing testimony,” he said. Frances Pizzaro, 17, felt the gospel had strengthened her family as well. They were already holding family prayer when the missionaries tracted them out. “My brother and I joined the Church, and my mother will soon join,” she said. She also said she learned things in seminary that “help me every day. I study the scriptures every morning and my workbook at lunchtime at school. Other people say, ‘Oooh, what’s that?’ And then everybody starts talking about it. It’s great.”
Iris Rivera, who graduated from Mutual last year, said one of her blessings has been the fellowship she has shared with Mary as Mary joined the Church. “I’ve seen her grow a lot. And now we’re going to be visiting teachers together starting next month.”
The noise of Harry rattling the door brought me back to the top of the World Trade Center. He was trying to gain access to the rooftop observation area, but it was locked and a sign said the wind was so strong no one would be allowed outside.
“Sorry,” he said. “That’s the best we can do.”
And I remembered again. I remembered his patience as he explained to me over and over the subway system the morning the group went to the Statue of Liberty, and finally how he said, “Just follow me and don’t get lost.”
I remembered the wind whipping over the bow of the ferry and the steamy cups of hot chocolate the young women shared back on the pier. I remembered stopping to read plaques at the statue and the young members’ feelings of pride in their country and in their hometown that were genuine and unpretentious.
And then I remembered interviewing some of the group in between meetings on Sunday. The young women’s lesson had been on developing a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. The young men had discussed morality. All of them had commented afterward about the influence the lessons exerted throughout the week.
“These activities and lessons keep us together,” Mary said. “We share our testimonies and they grow. We treat each other like brothers and sisters because we are.”
Mary Ann nodded agreement. “From my friends’ testimonies, I can build my testimony. They are a great influence on me.”
“The lessons help me keep my mind off things I shouldn’t think about,” Harry said. “I have a strong testimony of the gospel, and I know it’s good to be together with my friends in church. I need the recharge I get from being with them.”
“As you can see, we have a lot of fun together. We like each other a lot. But the neatest thing is that when I leave, I feel the Spirit coming with me, helping me choose wisely and do what’s right,” Mary Ann said.
“I’m glad to have friends who help me honor my priesthood,” Frank said. “When I carry the sacrament, I feel proud.”
And that made me think of a comment one of the adults made that same Sunday. “I admire these kids tremendously,” he said. “New York is beautiful and fun, but it’s also a difficult place to live righteously. There’s a lot of pressure on these kids from their friends not to follow the teachings of the prophets. I think they’re real heroes to live the gospel as they do.”
The group walked to the south side of the tower for one last look at the Statue of Liberty. One thought lingered in my mind. I was in the company of heroes. Real heroes, with a mission—to live and share the gospel with all of New York City. Somehow, in my heart, I knew they would be equal to the task.

It all started one summer night when I was talking with my best friend, Terry.
Terry was a little older, so he would be going on his mission sooner than I. He was talking about his mission, when it suddenly dawned on me, Hey, that’s going to be my situation real quick.
I had always been active in the Church. I’d always toed the line and been very obedient. But still the thought hit me like a thunderbolt: You think you’re so good, but where are you with your testimony?
What was I going to do? I realized I needed to read the Book of Mormon. But I was the type that liked to have it quiet, and I was the oldest of six children. We were pretty rowdy in a small house and a small yard. There was no secluded grove in our neighborhood. My first consideration was to find a spot where I could get away by myself.
A few years before, my dad had bought a used limousine because we had a big family and it had an extra row of seats. The car had been out of commission for a while and was parked in back of our house under our old basketball standard. Inside that car was the only place I could think of to go where I could have some quiet and solitude while I read the Book of Mormon uninterrupted.
I don’t remember exactly what part I was reading when this good feeling came over me. I was overcome with emotion, with tears running down my cheeks. This was unusual for me. I couldn’t imagine crying over something I read in a book. I felt this overwhelming peace and reassurance, knowing that I was receiving communication from Heavenly Father. I had no doubts. I knew that the Book of Mormon was the word of God. And I knew I was ready to go on my mission.

Possibly the most common miracle expressed is that of inspiration. One young brother recently bore a testimony of how inspiration had blessed his family: “I was coming back from a trip to Yellowstone Park with my dad and grandpa, and we stopped at a service station to get some gas and to stretch our legs. Grandpa is getting pretty old, and his eyes are very bad. He went into the station, and when he came back he walked right through a glass door. He thought it was open. It cut a deep gash in his arm. I tried to stop the bleeding while we rushed him to the hospital.
“After we got there, Dad suggested that I ask the nurse if there were any Mormon elders around; he wanted assistance in giving Grandpa a blessing. She was telling me she didn’t know any Mormons when a man stepped up and said, ‘I’m a high priest. I can help.’
“After he and Dad had given the blessing he started to leave the hospital, but I stopped him. ‘I hope we didn’t make you miss seeing someone here,’ I said.
“‘No,’ he said, ‘I don’t know anyone here.’
“‘Then why did you come in the first place?’
“‘I was driving through the neighborhood and I just got the feeling that I was needed here.’”

Imagine waking up to the smell of smoke, the sound of screams and gunshots, the sights of looting and beating. Imagine racially inspired violence so dangerous that schools close and curfews are imposed for days.
This tragic scenario might seem like something you’d see in a movie—the kind your parents and leaders would probably recommend you avoid—but during late April and early May this year LDS youth in the Los Angeles area actually lived it. They saw the rioting. They knew people who looted. They watched familiar buildings burn to the ground.
Yet even while the ashes were still smoldering, the Young Women of the Los Angeles area were busy putting the finishing touches on a long-planned multistake conference that would unite nearly 500 LDS young women of various ethnic backgrounds and affirm that the gospel offers peace to everyone.
The six-hour conference featured an address from Young Women General President Janette Hales. Her message focused on how the fundamentals of personal religious behavior, things like reading the scriptures, praying, and keeping the commandments, can get you through life’s trials and keep you close to Heavenly Father, no matter what is going on in the world around you.
The conference also included 15 workshops covering subjects like dating, preparing for a mission, self-defense, sign language, and baby-sitting. It was just what the doctor ordered for the girls after the tragedy of the weeks before. But the memories for some of the young women were still vivid.
“We went to the store before they burned it to get some food,” said Virginia Smith of the Inglewood Stake. “It was crowded. All of a sudden people were screaming and running to the back. Someone said there were people there with guns. So my mom said to get on the floor, ’cuz if they shoot, they’re not going to shoot down there. Then someone said they went out. The next chance we got, we headed for the door, got in our car, and left.”

Tongues. Did the Prophet Joseph Smith ever speak in tongues? He did. Brigham Young met him for the first time in Kirtland. They had a meeting. Brigham was called upon to pray, and in the course of this prayer spoke in an unknown tongue. When he and the others rose from their knees and were seated, the Prophet addressed them: “Brethren, this tongue that we have heard is the gift of God, for He has made it known unto me, and I shall never oppose anything that comes from Him. I feel the spirit that Brother Brigham has manifested in this gift of tongues, and I wish to speak myself in the tongue that it will please the Lord to give me.” After then speaking for a time in that tongue, Joseph declared: “Brethren, this is the language of our father Adam while he dwelt in Eden; and the time will again come, that when the Lord brings again Zion, the Zion of Enoch, this people will then all speak the language which I have just spoken.”63

Elder Bangerter has asked me to share a deeply personal experience with you today. A few years ago, while we were living in St. George, Utah, I received a phone call. I could see on my caller ID that it was my dad. I had rarely heard from my father over the last 50 years, so I went to a quiet room for the call.

When I was just seven years old, while living in New York, my dad drove away for a new life with a new wife, leaving my mom, my four brothers, and myself. I’m certain he never looked back. My mom needed help, so she moved us to Salt Lake City to live by her sister, where we could be surrounded by good people and raised in the gospel. She worked two jobs and wore herself out each and every day. She taught us to trust in the Lord. Over the years, we were blessed to have wonderful ward members, great youth leaders, and bishops care for and love us.

My dad on the other hand, only took care of himself, not thinking of others. He was an alcoholic but eventually stopped drinking and smoking for health reasons. Now, we know from the scriptures, [2] from teachings of the prophets, [3] and from personal experience that we can’t really feel joy unless we are serving others. We grow when we look outside of ourselves and help others. But he had been caught in this sad, selfish state of looking inward for 90 years.

So, I answered the phone. He said, “Hi Susan, I just want to let you know that I’m getting baptized.” I said, “Dad, you have to go to church and stuff like that!” He chuckled and explained that he had been for months. Two missionaries had been teaching him about God, families, and eternal life. The ward and bishop had made him feel so welcome at church. The phone call ended quickly as he had many people to call. I walked out to our family room and announced to my husband and family that my dad was getting baptized. We were in disbelief . . . but we rented a 15-passenger van, loaded everyone in, including my brother and his wife, and drove to Bakersfield, California, to see it with our own eyes.

We made it in time, and there he was, dressed in white, standing between these two elders. I’m so very grateful they did not overlook a 90-year-old man who needed peace, who had children and grandchildren who had been praying for him for over 50 years.

I love everything about the gospel, but the cleansing ordinance of baptism and the redeeming power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ has been confirmed to me in this very tender way. My dad then moved to St. George, Utah, to live with my brother and be closer to us. He came to visit almost every day, and each time he would tell me, or my husband, or one of our six sons, how sorry he was that he had missed our whole lives and that it would be different now. He expressed love over and over and talked of going to the temple and becoming an eternal family . . . words I never imagined I would hear in this life.

One day, I was planting flowers, and he sat in his walker next to me, offering this same apology. I listened again until he finished and said, “Dad, thank you for your apology. You need to understand that our Heavenly Father has always known you, and me, and when you were not there to take care of me, He took care of me. He gave Mom the strength she needed to care and provide for us. I forgave you so long ago. Our Savior has too. He has always known you, Dad. He loves you, and so do we.”

President David O. McKay was brought to tears while seeing the diverse group of students gathered at the elementary school in Laie back in 1921.
That was powerful but as he remembered that experience, he added, “but more impressive than that [flag raising ceremony] was our assembly in the old chapel that stood by. There we met as members of The Church of Jesus Christ—Hawaiians, Japanese, Chinese, Filipinos, all the races represented on this island. There we met as one, members of the Church, the restored Church of Christ. What an example in this little place of the purposes of our Father in Heaven to unite all peoples by the gospel of Jesus Christ.”

Priscila prepared for her temple trip by studying general conference talks about the temple with her mother, reading Church magazines, and studying the scriptures. She also gathered the names of four generations on her father’s side of the family so she could perform vicarious baptisms for them. Priscila’s mom compiled the family history information for four generations of her side of the family.
Once the 185 members departed Manaus by boat, Priscila and the five other young women in the caravan helped tend the Primary-age children and fixed meals. At night they slept in hammocks on the boat deck to try to stay cool in the hot jungle temperatures.
“Being on the caravan was so spiritual because everyone was so excited and anxious to go to the temple,” Priscila comments. “Most people had never been to the temple, so almost no one knew exactly what to expect. Everyone sang songs and read scriptures together. We were so united.”
The bus ride was the most difficult part of the journey because the buses traveled both day and night for three days, and the members were unable to move around much. As a result, many of the members had severe pain and swelling in their legs.
When they arrived at the temple, Priscila immediately went to the baptistry to do baptisms for the dead, while her mother went to a different part of the temple to receive her endowment. Priscila spent every day in São Paulo in the temple, even though it was the first time she had been to the large metropolis.
“I spent my 15th birthday in the temple. When the baptismal font coordinator discovered it was my birthday, he told me he had a present for me,” Priscila explains. “So many people come to the temple that most patrons can do the baptisms for only five people. He gave me a large stack of names of people who needed their baptismal work done for them. He couldn’t have given me a better present.”
Priscila’s mother comments about other changes that happened in Priscila’s life: “The caravan spiritually influenced her. She was a light for all of the other members. Everyone came back different. On the bus ride home, we felt that our appearances and faces had changed; we were all so happy.”

On June 23, 2009, the Philippines experienced a typhoon. That afternoon, our area was placed under a severe storm warning. The rest of that day and into the night, we heard something banging on our rooftop. When my son asked what it was, I told him it was our santol tree being whipped by the wind.
I regretted not picking the santol’s sweet fruit a day earlier, as I had planned. But my mother had told me the fruit wasn’t ripe yet and to leave it alone.
At 5:00 a.m. I went outside to look at the tree, fearing to see all the fruit on the ground. I couldn’t see into the tree—it was still dark outside—but I did see four small fruits scattered around our backyard.
An hour later I again inspected the tree. To my delight I saw many big, yellow-green fruit still clinging to the branches. Collecting those that had fallen, I noted that two of them had brownish lesions at the bottom. Black speckles discolored the other one, and the last was misshapen and warty in appearance.
I had expected the bigger, heavier fruit to have fallen; they were twice as big as the ones I collected. But there they were: still securely hanging on to the tree.
Illustration by Allen Garns
As I thought about the experience, I concluded that we are much like the two kinds of santol fruits—the ones that fell and the ones that held on. We too could fall when buffeted by the windy trials of life if we aren’t holding firm to the tree of life, our Savior Jesus Christ (see 1 Nephi 8:10; 11:8–9, 20–23).
The fruits that fell from our santol tree were weak with disease, not able to withstand the wind. The ones that remained on the tree survived because they were healthy and strong. If we don’t keep ourselves spiritually strong and healthy—learning from the scriptures and the living prophets, keeping the commandments, serving others—we too might fall when the adversary brings his forces against us.
The moment the tender fruits stopped drawing on the strength of the santol tree, their maturation stopped. So too the moment we separate ourselves from Christ, the true vine, our spiritual progress stops (see John 15:1; 1 Nephi 15:15).
Sometimes too we need to bend with the wind. Trials are part of mortality, and a humble spirit helps us accept the will of God in hard times. Humility helps us repent of our sins, forgive others, and forget offenses.
Allied with humility is patience. If we are patient in our trials, if we hold on to our faith a little longer, the answers we seek may come. Sooner or later the Savior will calm the storm. Peace and deliverance will come. If we remain obedient and faithful, nothing can separate us from the love of God (see Romans 8:38–39).

Composite photo illustration by Mike Boyland/iStock/Thinkstock and Oleksiy Fedorov/Hemera/Thinkstock
At the age of 23, I was called as a Relief Society president in our married student ward. I remember the inadequacies I felt, coupled with the desire to do my best. I was eager and excited to serve but doubted my ability to be a good leader.
After a few months as the Relief Society president, I felt that I wasn’t doing enough. I wanted to be able to connect with the sisters and be in tune with their individual needs, but I felt that I was coming up short.
I talked with my bishop and expressed my concerns. I explained how I just couldn’t reach all of the sisters I wanted to. I described how I wished that I had five of me to get the job done the way I thought it should be. I tried to keep my concerns light and humorous, but my eyes quickly filled with tears of discouragement. He smiled and offered some of the best leadership advice I have ever received.
“Are you familiar with the story of the shepherd who, upon losing one of his flock, left ‘the ninety and nine’ to find it?” he asked (see Luke 15:4–7). I nodded.
“There seems to be so much wisdom in that parable,” he continued. “The shepherd knew that the ninety and nine would be all right if he left them to look for the one lost sheep.”
Then my bishop offered the following advice:
“You see, the ninety and nine have a great way of looking after each other when you’re gone. They will buoy each other up and hold together very well. I suggest that you concentrate on the ones who seem lost. The rest will be OK.”
I felt a strong witness that what he had told me was true and that I didn’t need to worry about the entire flock all at once. My purpose was to find those who were lost and to invite them back into the fold. In that way, Heavenly Father’s purposes could be brought to pass, and I could be a tool in His hands.
As I heeded the bishop’s counsel, I felt a greater measure of understanding of how the Lord would have me serve in His kingdom. I also received spiritual fulfillment that strengthened me in my calling because I was serving as the Savior had instructed. Through the power of the Holy Ghost, my bishop had given me a great gift of understanding and insight.
I testify that as we pray and seek inspiration from our priesthood leaders, they will be inspired to show us how to lead in righteous ways.

A few years after my wife, Gisèle, and I returned from presiding over the Fiji Suva Mission, Gisèle was diagnosed with stomach cancer. The ordeal would eventually include three delicate surgical operations and complications that resulted in the complete removal of her stomach. It was at the height of watching my wife’s suffering that I came to better understand the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
I remember feeling completely overwhelmed by what Gisèle was experiencing. What had she done to deserve such an affliction? Hadn’t she served the Lord faithfully? Hadn’t she lived the Word of Wisdom? Why couldn’t He have prevented this illness? Why?
One particular night I let my heart and my feelings burst in prayer as I recounted to the Lord all of my frustrations. “I can no longer stand to watch my dear wife endure such pain!” I told Him. Then I decided to turn to the scriptures. I found these comforting verses about Jesus Christ in Alma 7:11–12:
“And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.
“And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.”
Until that moment I had not considered all that the Savior’s wondrous Atonement entailed. I had not truly realized that Jesus Christ would take upon Him Gisèle’s pain—or mine. I shifted my hurt and fear upon Him who takes “the pains and the sicknesses of his people.” With this new understanding, I felt a heavy burden lifted!
Today, Gisèle is doing very well, as though she never had cancer. At her regular checkups, her doctor tells her that she is “a miracle.” I am so grateful for her physical healing, but I am also grateful for the healing that I experienced, a healing of the heart. The comfort that is available only through the Savior gave me a peaceful assurance that everything would be all right.
Now whenever I face tribulation, my thoughts always turn to that powerful lesson and to what the Lord told the Prophet Joseph Smith: “The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he?” (D&C 122:8). Remembering Jesus Christ’s sacrifice invariably comforts me.