Gospel Story Finder

“Amen.”
I keep my head bowed as the sacrament is passed. I say a prayer, listing to Heavenly Father the things I’d done wrong the past week, the ways I could have been better. I promise to change. I think of the Savior. I take the sacrament. Then I do the exact same thing the next week, repeating pretty much the same things.
For a long time, that’s what I thought the sacrament was: thinking of the Savior, repenting, and promising that this week would be different.
I was vaguely aware that this process wasn’t helping me progress. Each week really wasn’t that different from the previous one. My personal prayers were still repetitive and infrequent. I still directed negative thoughts toward people who talked loudly on the morning train. I still watched too much TV in my downtime after work. These behaviors seemed fixed, and even though I felt bad about them, I wasn’t sure what else to do to get rid of them. Something was clearly missing. I just didn’t know what.
During general conference I found that missing piece. President Dallin H. Oaks, First Counselor in the First Presidency, taught: “Another source of spiritual uplift and growth is an ongoing practice of repenting, even of seemingly small transgressions. . . . Such repentance should precede our weekly partaking of the sacrament.”1
Suddenly, it was obvious why I was having trouble: I was only repenting on Sundays. By only reflecting on my sins during the few minutes of the sacrament, I was allowing myself to grow complacent during the rest of the week, ultimately preventing the possibility of change.
President Oaks’s teaching helped me identify three ways I could incorporate this missing piece into my repentance process.
Jesus Christ’s Atonement is for everything, even bad habits or temporal distractions—basically anything that may be preventing us from becoming more like Him. The Savior understands that even the smallest things can eventually drive us from His path, so He wants to help us overcome those things as well. To allow Him to do that, I decided to start thinking about those things in a different way—as things that were keeping me from drawing close to the Savior.
Doing this helped me see my shortcomings more clearly and has helped me take them more seriously. I feel a greater urgency to get rid of them accompanied by a new optimism that comes from knowing that Christ can help me in this. It makes sense that if I want to shake these habits, it’s not enough to pray about them once a week. I need to consult the Lord daily.
Daily repentance allows us to analyze our progress realistically as we report back to Heavenly Father. We are better able to see where our weaknesses lie and ask Him for specific help while seeking forgiveness. By facing those little things that keep me distanced from the Savior every day, my prayers have transformed, and so have my actions. Instead of settling into my routine as the week goes on, I constantly feel a desire to improve. I feel the Spirit influencing my decisions. I have more willpower to “choose the harder right,”2 which I know comes through the enabling power of Christ’s Atonement.
Although I had good intentions when I tried to deal with my sins on my own, relying on God throughout the week is what has made all the difference. When I do this, I feel Him near me as I’m trying to change; I no longer feel as though He’s simply waiting at the end of a really long tunnel.
As President Oaks explained, the sacrament does not encompass repentance—it’s a weekly step in a recurring cycle. It’s a time for us to evaluate our week, express gratitude for the Savior, and recommit to do better. As I repent daily, the sacrament takes on a new meaning for me. I no longer have to cram the whole repentance process into 10 minutes. Instead, I actually think about Christ’s sacrifice and marvel at His infinite love and mercy. As I partake of the bread and water, I truly feel cleansed and ready to improve a little more the next week.
Repenting during the week gives us a chance to appreciate the sacrament for the miracle it is. Understanding that repentance is a daily process has empowered me to face my shortcomings with courage and optimism. I no longer feel like I am alone with my problems. Rather than feeling weighed down and discouraged in those moments, I can recapture the hope and joy that I experienced at baptism.

She seemed to know instinctively that selfishness never led to happiness. I remember one summer being eager to give a birthday present to a young boy whom I babysat regularly. My mother didn’t give me a lecture on resources. Instead, we walked down to Main Street, where she purchased thirty-five cents’ worth of white broadcloth.
I helped tend my little brother as I watched her cut out a shirt with sleeves, interfacings, and a collar. After she carefully sewed the shirt together, she put on buttons from a worn-out shirt and made carefully hand-stitched buttonholes. The process seemed to take forever, but the new shirt was pressed and wrapped in time for the birthday, I remember the wonderful feeling I had as I presented the gift to the young neighbor. My mother’s gift to me was her time and effort and her support of my own desire to give.

For Tino, missionary service took an unexpected turn. Deferment of their mandatory military obligation is not allowed for Portuguese missionaries, and Tino was called into his country’s air force. He still remembers the counsel of R. Perry Ficklin, then president of the Portugal Lisbon Mission, who explained that Elder Moreira’s missionary service wasn’t over, that he was only being “transferred to another area—more difficult.” Tino went on to teach and baptize a number of people in the air force.

Today stake presidents are calling Melchizedek quorum leaders who are being taught and trained in effective principles of priesthood organization and reactivation. These new leaders are alert and not like the farmer Elder Sterling Sill referred to who was hauling produce to market in his wagon drawn by two horses. The horses were having a difficult time and the grade seemed very steep. Finally the farmer asked a stranger, “How far is it to the top of this hill?” The stranger said, “You’re not on a hill. Your rear wheels are off.”

Helping around the house is as important as playing. He makes his bed, cleans his room, and empties the small trash cans. As a family, the Olsons deliver newspapers. Jared puts the folded papers into a big bag. Sometimes he delivers a paper himself, placing it to the side of the door so that the people living there won’t trip over it.

I first came face-to-face with depression at the end of my mission in South Africa. I was oddly unhappy. My spirits were low, my perspective less positive, and my faith shaken. On top of that, my mom was unwell, and my family had other challenges. I pretended that everything was OK, but it wasn’t. One moment, I had been handling all sorts of stress just fine, and the next, I hit my breaking point. My thoughts were crushing me, and everything seemed to turn against me.

I was emotionally and mentally drained, so I decided to fast and pray for guidance. As a result, I received three specific promptings:

The first was to talk to my mission president. Finally opening up about my struggles helped me feel better and know I wasn’t alone.

Second, I was prompted that learning of Jesus Christ could help me through this. As I studied about Heavenly Father and the Savior, it became clear to me that They knew my pain and felt my sorrow. I relied on Them for strength when I felt I had none.

The third prompting came from a quote from President Gordon B. Hinckley: “Service is the best medicine for self-pity, selfishness, despair, and loneliness” (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Gordon B. Hinckley [2016], 201.) As I focused outward and on serving others, over time I felt happier, more confident, and more trust in Heavenly Father.

I got through my mission, but depression struck again during my first few months in university. I had just moved from Zambia to Malaysia and was far from home with no friends or family close by. I didn’t even know where my branch met for church.

I held onto hope and felt prompted to fast and pray for guidance again. From there, I was led to becoming friends with a girl in my class who helped me find the closest branch. As I walked into the chapel on that first Sunday, I felt the Holy Ghost lift my burden from me. I knew that I could follow the healing steps I took on my mission. Again, I spoke to my Church leaders for help, studied the life and teachings of the Savior, and then focused on serving others. I found people to talk to and reached out, helped others at school, and accepted a calling at church.

Akasiwa Wamunyima, Malaysia

From 1837 to 1838 and again from 1839 to 1841, Vilate Murray Kimball wrote often to her husband, Elder Heber C. Kimball of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, while he traveled in Great Britain to preach the gospel. During these two missions, Vilate updated him on the health and well-being of their family and the ongoing teachings and revelations of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
For instance, Vilate took note in 1840 when Joseph revealed more details on the doctrine of proxy baptisms for deceased men and women: “President Smith has opened a new and glorious subject … which has caused quite a revival in the church,” she wrote to Heber. “That is, being baptized for the dead.” Vilate mentioned the biblical precedent for the practice and added that “Joseph has received a more full explanation of it by Revelation. … It is the privilege of this church to be baptized for all their kinsfolks that have died before this Gospel came forth.” She explained that in performing these baptisms for deceased family members, “we act as agents for them; and give them the privilege of coming forth in the first resurrection.”1 Vilate was baptized for her mother in 1841.

“Everything we did, we did together,” says Elder H. Bruce Stucki about life with his wife, Cheryl, and their six children. “My wife made a family flag with the names of our kids and the motto ‘We Do It Together.’ We fished, went boating, hunted, worked, and gathered wood together. We worked hard, but we always made it enjoyable and had a reward at the end, like a cookout or ice cream party.”

In the Brazil São Paulo South Mission there was an Elder Malheiros who entered into the field not being able to read or write very proficiently. He was even a little fearful of giving a prayer in public. But this young man, according to his mission president, Wilford Cardon, became one of the very greatest missionaries imaginable. The president asked him toward the end of his mission how he had turned into such a dynamic, very successful missionary. (He had baptized more than two hundred people and had baptized every week for fifty-two consecutive weeks.) In a very humble manner Elder Malheiros answered, “Well, president, I never doubted you. You said one could baptize every week, so I knew I could baptize every week. I never doubted. It was not always easy, but I tried to obey.”

Birdie was supposed to keep everyone backstage quiet. “But the deaf signed to each other anyway,” she remembered, smiling. “I told them to cut it out, because their hands would crack and make noise.”

Some time ago I had occasion to visit with a man from New York City. He has been in the field of finance for many years. His associates are nationwide. During the course of our conversation, he made a remark that has given me much food for thought. He said: “Over the years, I have had dealings with many Mormons. I have yet to run into a dishonest one.”

I countered by saying, “If a Mormon truly lives his religion, he must be honest.” However, I indicated that I was afraid there were some who did not live their religion fully, whereupon he replied, “I hope I never have the shattering experience of meeting a dishonest Mormon.”

As the Alberta Temple neared completion in the early 1920s, the Church sent several artists to Canada to paint the murals for the ordinance rooms. The artists were also given space along the top of the walls in the baptistry, chapel, and terrestrial room to paint scenes focusing on the Savior’s atonement. The murals in the baptistry and chapel featured here are the work of Alma Brockerman (A. B.) Wright, a professor of art at the University of Utah. The scene from the terrestrial room is among the murals done by LeConte Stewart, a talented young artist who later went on to international acclaim as a landscape artist (see Paul L. Anderson, Ensign, July 1977, pages 6–11; July 1978, pages 40–45).
For seven decades now, those murals have inspired temple patrons to anchor their faith in Jesus Christ. Like the Alberta Temple itself, which stands rock-solid on the windswept prairie of western Canada, faith so centered in Christ stands firm against the winds of adversity.

I recall just a few years ago seeing a drama enacted at the Salt Lake Airport. On this particular day, I got off an airplane and walked into the terminal. It was immediately obvious that a missionary was coming home because the airport was full of conspicuous-looking missionary friends and missionary relatives.
I tried to pick out the immediate family members. There was a father who did not look particularly comfortable in an awkward-fitting and slightly out-of-fashion suit. He seemed to be a man of the soil, with a suntan and large, work-scarred hands. His white shirt was a little frayed and was probably never worn except on Sunday.
There was a mother who was quite thin, looking as if she had worked very hard in her life. She had in her hand a handkerchief—and I think it must have been a linen handkerchief once but now it looked like tissue paper. It was nearly shredded from the anticipation only the mother of a returning missionary could know.
Two or three younger brothers and sisters were running around, largely oblivious to the scene that was unfolding.
I walked past them all and started for the front of the terminal. Then I thought to myself, “This is one of the special human dramas in our lives. Wait and enjoy it.” So I stopped. I moved to the back of the crowd to watch. The passengers were starting to come off the plane.
I found myself wondering as to who would be first to breakaway from the welcoming group. A look at the mother’s handkerchief convinced me that she would probably be the one.
As I sat there, I saw the returning missionary start to come down the stairs from the airplane. I knew he was the one by the squeals of excitement from the crowd. He looked like Captain Moroni, clean and handsome and straight and tall. Undoubtedly he had known the sacrifice this mission had meant to his father and mother, and it had made him exactly the missionary he appeared to be. He had his hair trimmed for the trip home, his suit was worn but clean, his slightly tattered raincoat was still protecting him from the chill his mother had so often warned him about.
He came to the bottom of the steps and started out toward the airport building and then, sure enough, somebody couldn’t wait any longer. It wasn’t the mother, and it wasn’t any of the children, or even the girlfriend standing nearby. It was father. That big, slightly awkward, quiet and bronzed giant of a man pushed his way past an airline attendant and ran out and swept his son into his arms.
The missionary was probably 6?2? or so, but this big father grabbed him, lifted him off the ground, and held him for a long, long time. He just held him and said nothing. The boy dropped his briefcase, put both arms around his dad, and they just held each other very tightly. It seemed like all eternity stood still, and for a precious moment the Salt Lake City Airport was the center of the entire universe. It was as if all the world had gone silent out of respect for such a sacred moment.

He also met his wife-to-be, Jill Featherstone, at BYU. She was teaching the Gospel Doctrine class in her student ward. Invited by his brother, Elder Taylor visited her class and met her. A romance blossomed, and they were married on April 30, 1987, in the Salt Lake Temple. They are the parents of seven children.
Sister Taylor is the only daughter out of seven children of Elder Vaughn J. Featherstone, emeritus General Authority, and Sister Merlene Featherstone. “They were just really accepting and kind,” Elder Taylor said of his in-laws. “I felt immediately loved.”

My sister has cerebral palsy and can’t talk or walk. I serve her each day by feeding her, playing with her, and making her laugh. I know when I serve her, I’m serving Heavenly Father.
Ensign T., age 10, Utah, USA

10 Lucy Mack. Lucy came to a decision when she was about 19 that Christ’s Church was no longer on the earth. Once, when Lucy was very ill, she pleaded with the Lord for her life and promised Him that she would serve Him the best she could if He would spare her. She heard a voice giving her comfort, and she kept seeking for a religion that would bring her closer to Christ. Joseph Smith Jr. was her fifth child, and the gospel he restored was an answer to her prayers. Her children were an unnamed child, who died shortly after birth, Alvin, Hyrum, Sophronia, Joseph, Samuel, Ephraim, William, Catherine, Don Carlos, and Lucy.

My mom told me that there was going to be a play in our town. That sounded like fun and I wanted to be in it, but some of the rehearsals were on Sundays. Even though I really wanted to be in the play, I decided that it was more important to keep the Sabbath day holy. I felt happy after I made that choice because I know it’s what Jesus would want me to do.

I know that Jesus wants me to be reverent at church, so I have decided that I will follow Jesus by being reverent. Each week in Primary I listen to my teacher and try to be a good example. Following Jesus makes me feel good inside.

Reader 1: A small child, put to bed, gazes into hollow darkness.
Reader A: A darkness possibly filled with airy, whispered harms, silently hissing slithers, and babbling ghosts of terrors past.
Reader 1: The child, with innocent trust, speaks to the darkness:
Reader A: “You will not hurt me. Uncertainty is as often kind as not. You must be my protector.”
Reader 1: The darkness dares not argue with innocence.
Reader A: Love casteth out fear.

The COVID-19 pandemic has been one of the many trials and challenges that God’s children have confronted throughout the history of the world. At the beginning of this year, my beloved family and I lived through some dark days. The pandemic and other causes brought death and pain to our family through the passing of some dear loved ones. Despite medical attention, fasting, and prayer, during the course of five weeks my brother Charly, my sister Susy, and my brother-in-law Jimmy crossed to the other side of the veil.