Gospel Story Finder

I’m thinking of a young man I met over at the Utah State Prison. Let me just tell you some circumstances, with the thought in mind of patience on the part of this young man. We went there for a religious service. Members of the gathering were inmates of the prison along with friends and family members. The inmates sat on one side of the hall and their relatives, families, and friends sat on the other side of the small chapel. As we came into this setting through the rear door each individual was in place ready for the service. I noticed a young man near the front nudge his buddy. As they looked back at us, he said to his buddy, “Which one of those guys is Ashton?” I took a look at the size of the fellow who had asked the question and hoped his buddy didn’t know which one I was.

“Ashton’s the one in the middle,” his buddy said.

We walked up toward the front. As we reached the place where these young men were seated, this young questioning prisoner came over to me and said, “Could I talk to you for a moment?”

As he made that advance, one of the deputy wardens walked over and said, “Sit down.” (He said that to the prisoner, not to me. I’d have been happy if he had said it to me at that moment.)

“I want to talk to Ashton.”

I saw he was determined. The deputy said to me, “Do you want to speak to him?”

I replied, “Yes, I do.” (I may be a coward, but I’m not stupid.) I’ll never forget what this prisoner told me privately just before the service started. He took hold of my arm as we stood alone and pointed over to the other side of the room.

“Do you see the guy on the end of the third row?” I looked over. He said, as I recognized the spot, “He’s my dad. You know what?”

I asked, “What?”

He then continued, “Next week my dad’s going to be ordained an elder, and I’m the guy what’s done it. Ever since I’ve been in this prison, my dad’s been coming down once a week to see me. I’ve been teaching him out of the Book of Mormon and the Bible. Now he’s shaped up and is ready to be ordained an elder.” If you English teachers will plug your ears again, I’ll repeat what he said: “And I am the guy what’s done it.”

I found out later that that young man had every right to say, “You see that man over on the end of the third row? He’s my dad. I’d like to break his back. He’s no good. He’s the reason I am here. The only time he ever spent any time with me in my life was after I came here.” But he didn’t say those things. In the true spirit of patience, he accepted his father when he visited him. Now his father was qualified to be ordained an elder because this son had patiently worked with him.

After the meeting I asked him, “What are you going to do now that you have your father ordained an elder?”

With genuine seriousness in his eyes, he answered, “Now I’m going to start on my mom.”

Michael Weir said:
“My marriage had failed. I was living a life contrary to the principles of the Church. Not only was I inactive but had lost confidence in my ability to go back. I became successful in business, drove the nicest car, and bought expensive clothes. I had everything that the world would want.
“One day, my company hired Ken Wheeler, whom I knew to be a Mormon by the way he acted. We became friends, and he invited me to Church. I wanted to go but didn’t feel worthy. He continued to invite me, and I continued to refuse. I wanted to get back, but I didn’t have the strength to do it.
“One night, alone in my apartment, I became very depressed and broke into uncontrollable sobs. I prayed to the Lord and begged for His help. The next day Ken asked me how I was doing; he could sense something was wrong. Putting his arms around me, he said, ‘He still loves you, and we do, too. Why don’t you come back home?’ That was the answer to my prayers; that was the help I had begged for the night before.
“I came home! I felt uncomfortable at first, but the feeling that everyone cared made it easier. Today, I don’t drive the nicest car or wear the fanciest clothes, but I feel richer than ever.”
He continued, “Those who have fallen away want so badly to come back, but they are afraid to make the move. They don’t lose their testimony; they lose confidence in themselves.”

One day my cousin Jeff came over to play. We played under the back porch. Jeff had a little dump truck and I had a windup tractor. Mom gave us an empty cereal box and we made houses and roads.
I wanted to make another road. Jeff was using the shovel, so I took Woody out of my pocket and started to dig. Woody dug nice roads. I kept making the road longer and longer until I hit a rock and then SNAP! I picked up the piece that had broken off and tried to fix Woody, but it was no use. I felt like crying, but Jeff was there.
“It’s just a dumb stick,” Jeff said. I put Woody’s broken pieces under the porch steps and kept on playing. When Jeff went home, I crawled under the porch and got the pieces.
“I’m sorry, Woody,” I whispered. He didn’t say anything. I put him in the cereal box and carried him down to where we planted the flower and made a hole. Then I put Woody in the hole and covered him up.
He was a good stick and I miss him a lot.

I would like to share an experience that illustrates the effort required to endure physically and then compare it to the effort required to endure spiritually. Upon returning from my mission, I had the opportunity to play basketball for a well-respected coach and author at a college in California. This coach was very serious about his players being in shape before the start of the basketball season. One of his training prerequisites before any of us could touch a basketball on the practice court was to run a cross-country course in the hills near the school in a specific and very aggressive time. I remember my very first attempt at running this cross-country course immediately upon my return from the mission field: I thought I was going to die.

It took weeks of serious training in order to finally beat the time that the coach set as a goal. It was a great feeling to not only be able to run the course but also to accelerate down the stretch to the finish line.

To play basketball successfully, you need to get into good shape. Being in good physical condition comes at a price, and that price is dedication, perseverance, and self-discipline. Spiritual endurance also comes at a price. It is the same price: dedication, perseverance, and self-discipline.

With your indulgence I would like to share a personal experience related to the balance between the intellect and the spirit. Prior to having this experience I thought I understood the doctrine, but afterwards I had certain knowledge that it is true. Intellect and spirituality are mutually dependent.
Over 26 years ago I was hired to be the managing director of the Welfare Services Department of the Church. We were at a critical stage in the history of welfare. Our charge was to bring the welfare program from the 1930s to the 1980s. It was time to go through an agonizing reappraisal of the program in light of current world and Church conditions. The specifics are irrelevant but it will suffice to say I was beside myself with worry and concern.
After praying for a solution, I had a terrific thought: “Glenn, you have access to the Quorum of the Twelve and to a member of the First Presidency. What a resource!” I canonized that thought. Consequently, I called for appointments and met one-on-one with these great men. I poured out my concerns and added my feeling that we were at a stage in the history of the Church where further revelation on the subject was necessary. Then I sat back with my yellow notepad and Cross pen and waited for pearls of wisdom.
I received one consistent pearl from each of those prophets, seers, and revelators: “Brother Pace, I commend you for your concern and conscientiousness in finding solutions to these weighty matters. I, too, have some deep concerns and anxieties and you are absolutely right; we do need additional revelation. Now, go get it!”
Who, me? I was an employee of the Church at the time, not a General Authority, but I, along with the well-qualified staff of the welfare department were charged with the responsibility to do our homework and bring forward well-thought-out recommendations to the Brethren which could be confirmed, modified, or rejected in the appropriate forums. It was our obligation and right to receive inspiration, but it came with agonizingly intense study, research, meditation, and prayer. We read everything we could find on welfare with the objective of separating principles from programs and policies from doctrine in order that we could come up with sound recommendations. It was a two-year process.
The points I wish to make are that we must learn how to obtain our own personal revelation and that revelation comes by using all the intellectual and spiritual abilities with which we have been blessed. The Spirit guides us along the way but will not replace the hard work. It would have been nice to offer up a prayer to the Lord on the first day of my employment and find the answer on my desk the next morning in the form of a welfare manual. It would also have made a more spectacular story. However, for good reason it doesn’t work that way.

Several years ago my husband received a job promotion, and we moved to another state. During the first few weeks in our new home I was often lonely and depressed.
One day a letter came from my former Relief Society president. She wrote that she, too, had been the new sister in several wards and had always found the transition to be difficult. She shared the following ideas with me:
Don’t wait for people sitting next to you to introduce themselves; introduce yourself first!
Tell ward members that you’re happy to be in the area and look forward to getting to know them better. A positive attitude draws people to you.
Look for someone who needs you.
Ask the Relief Society or priesthood quorum leaders for a visiting teaching or home teaching route.
Ask the Relief Society or priesthood quorum leaders for the names of ward members who share your interests. Then introduce yourself.
Take advantage of this lull in your life to do some of those things you’ve never had time to do before.
Don’t forget that you are a child of God and have a lot to offer.
By following these suggestions, I soon became comfortable in my new ward. I will always appreciate my friend’s thoughtfulness in helping to ease my transition.

Often our opportunities to show our love come unexpectedly. An example of such an opportunity appeared in a newspaper article in October 1981. So impressed was I with the love and compassion related therein that I have kept the clipping in my files for over 30 years.

The article indicates that an Alaska Airlines nonstop flight from Anchorage, Alaska, to Seattle, Washington—a flight carrying 150 passengers—was diverted to a remote Alaskan town in order to transport a gravely injured child. The two-year-old boy had severed an artery in his arm when he fell on a piece of glass while playing near his home. The town was 450 miles (725 km) south of Anchorage and was certainly not on the flight path. However, medics at the scene had sent out a frantic request for help, and so the flight was diverted to pick up the child and take him to Seattle so that he could be treated in a hospital.

When the flight touched down near the remote town, medics informed the pilot that the boy was bleeding so badly he could not survive the flight to Seattle. A decision was made to fly another 200 miles (320 km) out of the way to Juneau, Alaska, the nearest city with a hospital.

After transporting the boy to Juneau, the flight headed for Seattle, now hours behind schedule. Not one passenger complained, even though most of them would miss appointments and connecting flights. In fact, as the minutes and hours ticked by, they took up a collection, raising a considerable sum for the boy and his family.

As the flight was about to land in Seattle, the passengers broke into a cheer when the pilot announced that he had received word by radio that the boy was going to be all right.

The young women in one ward were inspired by the teachings of Sister Elaine S. Dalton, Young Women general president, on virtue: “Now is the time for each of us to arise and unfurl a banner to the world calling for a return to virtue.”1 The young women hiked a hill overlooking the town and raised gold banners symbolizing their pledge to be examples of virtue. Together they sang “High on the Mountain Top” (Hymns, no. 5).
These young women have raised their personal standards of righteousness. Their obedience has strengthened their testimonies and influenced others. Sister Dalton has said, “Never underestimate the power of your righteous influence.”2 And like a banner, the example of these young women waves to all the world.

I never used to feel the Spirit in meetings, and I imagined there was something wrong with me. Then I had the opportunity to accompany one of the full-time missionaries serving in our branch. For me, the conditions were far from ideal. After my regular work in a bank, I bicycled in extreme heat to the investigator’s home.

On our first visit, I only listened as the missionary presented the lesson. But on the second visit, I became involved in the message, and I felt the Spirit as I had never felt it before. It was such a wonderful feeling that I had tears in my eyes.

When I got home, I began to analyze why I had felt the Spirit so strongly. I came to the conclusion that it was because I was interested in the lesson and the message taught. I now make the effort to become interested in what speakers have to say in church meetings. When I become involved in their message and concentrate on what they are saying, I have felt the Spirit with me.

Janilson Teixeira de Oliveira, 21Rondonopólis Aurora Branch, Brazil Brasília Mission

When I was 11 years old, my father died, and at his funeral I was very touched as I heard the people speaking about what a kind man he had been. At the cemetery as they were lowering the casket down in the grave and starting to throw those shovels full of dirt and rocks down on the casket, I stood watching, thinking he was my hero, and I wondered what would ever happen to me having lost my father. I saw good men exercising the priesthood and doing what was right—the men who had helped in digging the grave and taking care of things—and I saw a good man push a five-dollar bill back into the hands of my mother, who had offered him some money for helping to dig the grave. He pushed that money back toward my mother and said, “No, you keep it because you will need this later on.” And so I would like to declare to all of you in these assemblies tonight, in the Aaronic Priesthood and the Melchizedek Priesthood, isn’t it interesting to see the wisdom of our Heavenly Father and His Son in putting all of these things together, how in the lesser priesthood we learn to do the temporal chores? We’ll have temporal duties, learning in a humble, simple way those things that need to be done. This will teach us of service and of living the commandments of the Lord, preparing us so that we someday will be advanced to the Melchizedek Priesthood, with all of the majesty and the eternal glory that that entails.

Thirty-three years ago, as a young boy, I received the ordinance of baptism. The baptizer was my father, Samuel E. Otuonye, who had just found the new faith and embraced it with the greatest joy. Though we had no full-time missionaries posted in our area then, as the Church was relatively new, I saw my father proselyting from home-to-home sharing the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. As a farmer, he would gather us, his children, for a service to those he was sharing the gospel with. The Church was very far from us, and my father would use his motorcycle to carry the investigators three to four times every Sunday to church and bring them back in the same manner.
During our family home evening or family council, he would always emphasize that all his sons would serve a full-time mission eventually. It was very easy for me and my other siblings to make the decision to serve a mission when it was time. We are all happy today for the good example of my father as we were growing.
In April of 2000, I was called to serve in the Ghana Accra Mission. It became the greatest opportunity for me to show my love, share my beliefs and invite others to join me to come unto Christ. Four of my siblings have also served in various missions.
I then realized that there are many yet on earth who are kept away from the truth because they know not where to find it. (See Doctrine and Covenants 123:12). Because of this, I join my voice to encourage the stake presidents, the bishops, and the parents and guardians to prepare all our young men to serve a full-time mission and the young women, if they so desire. This period of 24 and 18 months, respectively, provides a time of great devotion to them. They deny themselves of worldliness and only focus on the Lord’s errand.
My wife, Kate, and I are both in the medical field. After our marriage, we looked at our circumstances and began to think of how to share our blessings with others. We both worked in the state hospital as a medical doctor and a laboratory scientist. We realized that it would not give us the full opportunity that we needed to share our love with others. After much consideration, we established our own hospital, Ensign Hospital, which has become a great avenue to show our love to others.
As a leader in the Church and a medical practitioner I often encounter those who are in pain, those who are depressed, some who suffer with substance abuse, some who are near the point of suicide, accident victims, etc. It offers a great opportunity for me as I help to restore life. During my one-on-one visits with patients, after giving medical attention, I restore hope to them by sharing my belief and how my family and I have been blessed. Several times, I have pulled out my family picture and shared the joy we feel together. Many develop an interest and listen to the missionaries and are brought to the waters of baptism.
Sharing the gospel alone may not be very productive. Rather, it is our lives and those of our family members, the joy that radiates within us, the unity and how we live our lives that becomes the nonverbal message that we share to those around us. This has the greatest impact in their lives.
Elder Gary E. Stevenson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said, “Whenever we show Christlike love toward our neighbor, we preach the gospel even if we do not voice a single word.
“Love for others is the eloquent expression of the second great commandment to love our neighbor; it shows the refining process of the Holy Spirit working within our own souls. By demonstrating Christ’s love to others, we may cause those who see our good works to ‘glorify [our] Father which is in heaven.’
“We do this expecting nothing in return.
“Our hope, of course, is that they will accept our love and our message, though how they react is not within our control. …
“Through Christlike love to others, we preach the glorious, life-transforming properties of Christ’s gospel and we participate significantly in the fulfilling of His great commission.”
Brothers and sisters, there is no hard and fast rule on how and where the gospel of Jesus Christ should be shared. Sharing can be done directly or indirectly as you bear your testimony of the divine help of the Lord, during your discussions with friends.
Because I have lived almost all my years within my environment, my life has become a testimony to those who know me as I have been growing. Many are now coming to me to express their feelings after I invite them to join the Church. One of their questions in responding to my invitation is often “Will your Church take me to America if I join?”
I will then answer with my usual joke, “We better write in front of our Church gate ‘express visa to America after baptism’”.
I then tell them no, but what they will get is the everlasting gospel that brings peace and restores hope. I explain that they will learn about the plan of happiness and that their family will experience a great unity of love.
I bear witness and testimony that my family and I have been blessed tremendously beyond measure, we have a living prophet, God lives, Jesus is the Christ, and this is His Church.

In the last half of 1833 Missourians drove the Saints, including the Knight clan, from Jackson County. Mobbers shot Philo Dibble, whom Newel Knight saved from death through a remarkable priesthood blessing.1 Fearing for their lives, the Knights braved the cold weather and rushed to the Missouri River ferries. Joseph Knight, Jr., told of women and children walking with bare feet on frozen ground. The Knights lost all their property, including a gristmill. Of that awful winter, Sally Knight’s sister, Emily Colburn Slade, recalled, “We lived in tents until winter set in, and did our cooking out in the wind and storms.”2 Suffering from poor food and shelter, many Saints became victims of fever and what was called ague (probably malaria). Sally was one of them. She gave birth to a son, who died, and then she died herself. “Truly she died as a martyr to the gospel,” her husband, Newel, eulogized.

I study each issue of the New Era, mark it up, and categorize each article under one or more of the 69 gospel subjects that I have in what I call my “Church Binder.” I have been LDS nearly all my life, but I never understood the concept of the still small voice—what it sounds like or feels like—until I read Elder McConkie’s article “Agency or Inspiration?” in the January issue. I have tried his ideas and have found that they work. I am now able to hear and feel the still small voice of the Holy Ghost. Thank you very much for printing the article.

“We’re number one!” shouted the cheerleader at a high school football game. I admired her straight teeth and perfect smile. I watched as she laughed and talked to the girls and flirted with the boys.

“It must be glorious to be her,” I thought, reflecting on my own loneliness. My father’s job required us to move every three to five years, so it was hard for my sister and me to form lasting friendships.

The cheerleader had a reputation for dressing immodestly and going to drinking parties. Watching her, I began to ache for the popularity that I thought she represented. I wanted friends so badly that for one fleeting moment I wondered if I should lower my standards to become like her.

While my sister and I drove home, I was wallowing in self-pity, and I prayed in my heart to Heavenly Father. I asked Him to tell me the secret that would take away my loneliness and insecurity. Although I wasn’t a Church member at this time, I had a strong faith in God.

Immediately came into my mind the idea, “Stop thinking about yourself.”

“That’s the secret?” I thought disappointedly. “How can that help me to become popular?”

Later that week, I read about charity in 1 Corinthians 13. It helped me understand that Heavenly Father was trying to teach me to have charity toward others rather than focus on how they were treating me. I took the characteristics of charity listed there and put them to work. When I did this, I found that my whole school experience changed. Here are some of the valuable things I learned.

I tried to become more patient with people at school. One boy teased me during gym class, but I tried to meet his ill will with kindness and smiles. Eventually he stopped teasing me. By the end of the year, we became good friends.

I had always admired a girl in my class who was friendly to everyone, no matter how popular or unpopular they were. I began to follow her example and look for opportunities to show kindness to others.

My sister and I were jealous of the talents of a basketball player in our school, and we used to make cutting remarks about her. I decided to start rejoicing in her victories instead. I also began to develop my own talents. When I did these things, I lost my bitter burden, and I was much happier.

I sometimes thought I was better than some people because I lived higher moral standards. When I thought about the Savior, who was meek and loved all people, I decided to change my attitude. As I tried to be humble and kind, people began to make the effort to be my friend.

I loved the Lord and had high moral standards. I decided that compromising these standards would make me unhappy.

Once, a teacher made a comment that hurt my feelings. Rather than reacting, I asked her if she was having a hard day. She admitted that she was and then apologized. Those comments had come from her personal problems and had nothing to do with me.

One thing my Latter-day Saint friends taught me was that gossiping and spreading lies is evil. I tried to avoid gossip and changed the subject whenever someone started to say unkind things.

I began to see the good in people and be optimistic. When I made this attitude change, people began to feel uplifted around me. This made them want to associate with me more often.

When my sister became seriously ill and lost her ability to walk normally, many of her friends abandoned her because she walked funny. I saw her heartbreak, and I realized the importance of sticking with people through tough times.

When I practiced charity in my relationships, I developed many true and lasting friendships. My loneliness disappeared, and I realized popularity was nothing compared to the real treasure of friendship and respect that comes from living gospel principles.

I am thankful for a Father in Heaven who took the time to teach a sophomore in high school the secret of gaining friendships that would last.

For my sixth birthday, I got some money from my friends and family. I put some of it in my mission-fund bank account, and my mummy gave me some of it to spend. My sister and I went to the toy shop, and she saw a toy that she wanted but did not have any money. So I spent my birthday money and bought the toy for my sister. I love my sister, and I know that Heavenly Father is happy when we sacrifice for one another.

They were the last two on the bus, and with luck there were two seats left. One was by a middle-aged Latin. His suit suggested a businessman. But Elder O’Neal stared at the man’s obvious mismatch of green pants and a blue striped jacket. The other seat, much farther back, was by a teenage girl in her school uniform, a wrinkled, white blouse and a green and red plaid skirt.
“I’ll take that one,” Elder Everritt said, pointing to the seat by the businessman. “You take the other one, elder. And remember, arm’s length.” Elder O’Neal stared at him for a moment and then started down the aisle, wending his way through the obstacle course of sacks, boxes, and chickens.
Kevin sat down beside the girl who watched him until their eyes met. Then blushing, she quickly turned away to stare out the window. The seat in front of them was so close that it didn’t leave room for Kevin’s legs. So he sat with his feet out in the aisle.
“What is your name?” The girl next to him had touched him on the shoulder.
“What?” he asked, not sure if he should look at her.
“What is your name?” she asked again.
She spoke with a strong Spanish accent. He smiled.
“No,” he said in English, “you have to accent the next to last word. Like this. What is your name?”
“A-lane,” she said answering him. He didn’t understand until she wrote Helen with her finger on the back of the seat in front of them. “What is your name?” she asked once again.
“Kevin O’Neal, Elder Kevin O’Neal,” he said correcting himself. “How’d you get an English name like Helen?” he asked her.
She stared back at him with the same look he’d given the man at the bus station. He realized that, like the shoeshine boy, she only knew one phrase in English.
“Speak to the Latins in their own language,” his Missionary Training Center teacher had said. “You can’t imagine how much they love it when a North American takes the time and effort to learn their language.”
“Okay,” Kevin thought. “I’ll try speaking to her in Spanish.” The girl had already turned to look out the window when he tapped on her shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he said in Spanish. “I speak a little bit of Spanish.” The girl turned back to him with a smile. Kevin quickly turned to see if Elder Everritt was watching. But Elder Everritt was busy talking to two women in front of him. One was a middle-aged woman who could be the businessman’s wife. The other was much older, with steel-gray hair and deep wrinkles in her dark brown face. If Elder Everritt was talking to those women, it should be okay to talk to the girl. “How did you get an English name like Helen?” he asked in his best Spanish.
“Oh, my name isn’t Helen,” she said pronouncing Helen wrong again. “It’s Elena. That’s Spanish for Helen, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he said. Her Spanish was spoken at a normal rate, which seemed rapid to him, hard to understand.
“What’s your name again?” Elena asked. “I didn’t understand you when you spoke in English.” Seeing his difficulty in understanding, she had slowed down, pronouncing each word more clearly.
“Elder Kevin O’Neal,” he said answering her question.
“Aldare, that’s a funny name.”
“It’s not a name. It’s a …” He couldn’t think of the word so he said, “My name is Kevin, really.”
“Kaybeen. I like your name. Do you like mine?”
He wasn’t sure if he should answer that. “Yes,” he said out of habit.
“What are you doing in my country?”
“I don’t know,” he said, amazed at his inability to say anything intelligent. Elena looked at him puzzled.
“Why don’t you know? I don’t understand.”
“Really, I’m a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” he said, repeating the line he’d memorized at the Missionary Training Center. “He is my companion,” he said pointing at Elder Everritt who was busy talking to the businessman again.
“That’s neat,” she said. “What do missionaries do?”
He didn’t know how to answer that.
Seeing that he wasn’t going to answer, she asked, “Do you like my country?”
“No,” he said and was sorry.
“Why not?” Elena asked with a frown.
“It is so … it is very …” How do you say strange in Spanish? he asked himself. “It is very different,” he said at last.
“What’s so different about it?” Elena asked.
Kevin knew he’d never be able to explain that. “I don’t know,” he said staring down the aisle. Elder Everritt turned around and waved. He was mouthing something, but O’Neal didn’t understand. Elder Everritt pointed at the businessman and then at Kevin. Kevin shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t know what Elder Everritt wanted. Elder Everritt gave up and turned back to the businessman.
“I’ll bet your father sent you,” Elena said staring at the businessman. “To get rid of you. All fathers are alike. Mine doesn’t like me.”
“That’s not true,” Kevin said.
“How do you know? You don’t know my father.”
“I know my father.”
“What’s your father like?” Elena asked.
“He saved my life once.”
“How? Did he do a brave thing?”
“Yes,” Kevin said. “He did a brave thing. He told me I couldn’t go to a party.”
Elena was confused. “But that’s mean,” she said. “Tell me how he saved your life.”
“Let me tell you something else first,” Kevin said. “He asked me not to have certain friends, not to say profane words, not to rebel, not to do this or that. Is that like your father?”
“Yes,” Elena said. “He’s very mean to me.”
“He told me not to go to a party with my friends. He said he loved me, but I didn’t believe him. And I hated him.”
“You were right to hate him,” Elena said. “That was very mean.”
“No, I was wrong. Very wrong,” Kevin said strongly. “He really did love me.”
“I don’t understand,” Elena said. “He didn’t let you go to a party. How is that love?”
“At the party somebody put … put something in the drink. What do you call it?”
“¿Alcohol?” she asked.
“No, that was the drink,” he said feeling ashamed.
“¿Veneno?” she asked.
He didn’t understand that word, so he said, “No, it makes you crazy.” Then in English he said, “Drugs.”
“Oh, drogas,” Elena said starting to understand.
“Three of my friends died in a car,” he told her. “If my father had let me go, I would be dead also. Now do you understand how I know he loves me?”
“Yes,” Elena said. “He let you hate him in order to save you.”
“If my father asks me not to do certain things because he loves me, then why do you think your father asks you not to do them?” Kevin was amazed; the words were coming much more easily now. It was as if he were speaking in his own language.
“Maybe because he loves me,” Elena said answering his question. “Are you really sure?”
“Why don’t you ask him?” Kevin said. “And at the same time, tell him you love him.”
The bus stopped. It had reached its destination and was backing into its stall. The passengers began to stand up and get off the bus. Elena stood up and slid past him.
“I don’t know if what you say will work,” she said, “but I’ll try it anyway.” She smiled at him. “You know? Now I know what you missionaries are doing in my country.” Then she was gone.
As Elena left, Kevin said to himself, “So do I now. So do I.”

Zenadine Blake, a 15-year-old from Saint Catherine, Jamaica, is the youngest of seven siblings. He learned valuable life lessons early on. One significant lesson is the importance of forgiveness.
His story begins when he was in preparatory school and faced bullying from a fellow student. The bullying was hurtful, and it left a lasting impact on him. However, things started to change when the COVID-19 pandemic hit. With school closures and the shift to online learning, Zenadine lost contact with the student who was bullying him. When the school began online classes, there was time allowed on Fridays for students to socialize with one another via the internet.
Zenadine noticed a difference in his nemesis. He had changed. He stopped the cruel behavior, and the two began to develop a friendship. Eventually, the student even apologized to Zenadine for the harm he had caused. Zenadine, despite the pain he had endured, chose to forgive him.
Life was not easy during the time of bullying. At one point, he found himself retreating to the internet to escape his feelings. But as time passed, he realized that this distraction wasn’t helping him heal. Instead of avoiding the problem, he chose to confront it by embracing forgiveness and positivity. Zenadine said, “If you’re scared to do everything, then you would just be living your life in fear.”
“Forgiveness takes time,” he shared. “It’s a process. I was sad at times, but I realized that nothing would change unless I changed. I started surrounding myself with positivity.”
Zenadine’s approach to dealing with negative emotions was rooted in his faith and strong sense of self. He studied the teachings from the pamphlet For the Strength of Youth, which helped him understand that forgiving others is not only for their benefit but also for his own well-being. “Once you fill your life with positivity, you stop thinking about negativity,” he said. “It doesn’t consume you anymore.”
When asked what helped him stay positive, Zenadine mentioned reading scriptures, praying, and spending time with supportive friends and family. These practices gave him the strength to face his challenges and remain humble.
Zenadine found inspiration in the scriptures, particularly in 1 Nephi 7, from the Book of Mormon. He recalled the moment when Nephi’s brothers, Laman and Lemuel, had tied him up and left him to die in the wilderness. Despite their cruelty, Nephi forgave them when they later apologized, showing that forgiveness is not about forgetting the hurt but about letting go of the anger and pain that comes with it.
“For me, this story teaches that forgiveness is powerful,” he explained. Even though Nephi’s brothers were wrong, he forgave them, which also helped Zenadine forgive. It reminded him that we all make mistakes, and it’s important to forgive, just as Nephi did.
“Never give up on people, even if they hurt you,” he said. “They can change.”
Through forgiveness, Zenadine not only healed his own heart but also built a stronger relationship with someone who had once caused him pain. His story is a reminder that kindness and understanding can lead to change, even in the most challenging circumstances.

On a trip to the Orient it was my privilege to attend a sacrament meeting of the Naha Branch on the island of Okinawa. I was so impressed with the quality of the sacrament service and the reverence and dignity exhibited by the Aaronic Priesthood that when I was called to speak I asked one of the young men to join me at the pulpit. I asked him, “How do you feel knowing you hold the priesthood of God?” Not tall enough to see over the pulpit, he raised on his toes so he could see the congregation, then with deep emotion responded: “It’s the greatest honor of my life!”

Years ago, one of our daughters when she was seven years old was playing with her twin brother in an empty field. As they enjoyed their innocent childhood games, they found an unopened bottle of beer lying in the hot sun. As children will do, they threw rocks at it hoping to see it shatter.

After a number of failed attempts to hit it, our daughter found a steel bolt and innocently knelt by the bottle and struck it with a decisive blow. Indeed the bottle broke, but the hot sun had transformed it into a small explosive device and as it shattered, the glass flew outward and upward striking her in the face and, most seriously, lacerating her eye. The flying glass also opened a large wound on her lower eyelid and down her beautiful little face.

Her brother helped her back to our home and her mother rushed her to the emergency room. The doctors gave some hope that her eye could be saved and that the wound on her face would heal with minimal scarring.

However, we were disappointed to learn that rather than healing as we had hoped, her injuries developed excess scar tissue that eventually destroyed her eye and developed a significant scar under her eye and down her face. Over the next ten years, she underwent a number of surgeries to recover as much as possible. As parents we provided love, faith, prayers, and support the best we could.

One of the greatest challenges we faced as parents was to see her go into the bathroom before going to school, lock the door, and, at least in our minds, imagine her staring at herself in the mirror wondering how she could ever get through the day. She grew out her hair and had very long bangs to try to cover that one side of her face and she wore glasses not only to protect her eye, but to also try to mask the scar on her face.

The good news is that over time a talented physician performed a miracle and helped her recover in a remarkable way. If you saw her today you would probably not detect any trace of what I have described. As parents it was difficult to see any particular good that would, or could, ever come from what we considered a tragedy that befell an innocent seven-year-old girl. Today, this young woman is the mother of four beautiful children, full of faith, devotion to God, and a wonderful, caring, kind, and generous person.

It wasn't until last Christmas that we sensed in our daughter's life the fulfillment of the scripture that, "all things work together for good to those who walk uprightly." At our annual family adult Christmas party, each of our children and their spouses were asked to consider a challenge they had in life which seemed difficult at the time, but that has been a blessing as the years passed by. When it was this particular daughter's turn to share, she certainly remembered the accident as a very challenging time. She recalled the worries and concerns about going to school and facing her friends, teachers, and other students.

She recalled that often she did go into the bathroom before school and look into the mirror, but she related something even more important. She said that in the morning she also went into her bedroom and knelt down in prayer and asked Heavenly Father--even pled with Him--to help her face other students and more importantly to endure her own feelings of hurt and embarrassment. She simply said about those days, "God answered my prayers. I did make it!"

It was difficult for her. She said that it was only with God's help that she could face each day. He blessed her with loyal friends and a twin brother that always had her back and a future husband that could totally look past her perceived defects and totally love the lovely woman that she was and is. She ended her story that Christmas evening by quoting part of the poem, "Invictus," that ends with, "I am the master of my fate and the captain of my soul!" It was a very moving experience to hear her tell of how this seeming tragedy had somehow also been a remarkable blessing to her.

This experience that seemed so unfair and painful at the time became a foundation of her faith that God would help her with other challenges throughout life. Her example also blesses her family and those who know her well.

Perhaps the greatest blessing coming from this experience is that her four beautiful children see their mother as a pillar of faith, strength, and determination. Her example and teachings will help them prepare for life and live more productive, rich, and rewarding lives.

As 14-year-old Boy Scouts from Troop D in Burley, Idaho, my friends and I were camping in a beautiful pine forest nestled into the canyon of the middle fork of the Boise River.
We had just finished exploring the area with our leaders when we decided our next experience should be fishing.
“Let’s go up above the rapids this time,” Paul suggested. “If we fish the deep-water holes, we’ll probably catch a lunker.”
“Yeah,” Richard agreed, “and we’ll cook it tonight for dinner.”
After we’d gone about a fourth of a mile from camp, we found an eddy with a water hole deep enough to catch a whale. But before we could get our fishing poles ready, I saw a log about 20 inches in diameter and what I guessed to be about eight feet long. It was magnificent. It floated high in the water and was still covered in bark. It was the type of log that cries adventure to three 14-year-old Scouts.
“Hey, guys,” I called to Richard and Paul. “If we don’t ride this log, we’ll miss out on the thrill of a lifetime. Just think of the story we can tell the other guys when we get back to camp.”
At first we all agreed that riding the log would be fun. But as Richard and Paul watched the swift-moving river run over the tops of boulders, they saw how steep the rapids were below us. Paul said, “I’m not sure this is such a good idea, Francis. We might not make it through in one piece.”
“Yeah,” Richard agreed. “This might not be the smartest thing we’ve ever done.”
“Come on,” I coaxed. “Don’t let a little fast water stop you. We’ll be fine.”
“Nah,” Paul said. “I don’t think I’m going.”
“Me either,” Richard said. “It doesn’t look safe.”
“Well, I’m going,” I said stubbornly. “And if you don’t go, I’ll be the only one at camp tonight with a great adventure story.”
Insisting I was crazy to try, Richard and Paul watched with concern as I gripped the log and steered it into the river. Immediately I noticed the river was deeper than I thought it would be. Just as I was about to climb onto the log, a voice came into my mind.
“Don’t do this thing! The tree trunk will roll as it goes through the rapids, and you will be thrown off into the churning water. What appears to be a thrilling and exciting experience could cost you your life. Your friends on the shore will think you are wise if you just let the log go and return to safe ground.”
The voice went on to say, “If you die, your mother will be left alone and brokenhearted. Even now she is praying for your safety.” Then an image of my mother kneeling in prayer came into my mind.
I let the log go and watched it slowly drift with the current. Then suddenly it appeared to be sucked into the top end of the rapids. The large trunk was tossed like a matchstick among the jutting rocks. Splinters were knocked off and large chunks of bark were stripped from the log.
A very clear picture formed in my mind as I realized the life-and-death situation I had been contemplating. If I had gone with the enticement of only living life for fun, I would have been destroyed just like the log.
I knew I would always remember those two very different urges. The first, to live only for the fun, thrill, and adventure of life. That appealed to my pride and vanity. My perception had been clouded. Selfishness was the engine that drove this desire.
The second, a prompting to listen to reason, was life-giving and life-sparing. It stood in opposition to selfishness. It helped me realize the cause and effect of the situation I had placed myself in. I was impressed that life is important and I should not take chances with it.
In the years since this experience, I have rafted on swift-running rivers and gone over many white-water rapids. But I have never forgotten my first experience with life’s rapids.
I learned that making right choices comes from heeding the promptings of the Holy Ghost. Now when a decision needs to be made, I examine closely how I feel. I listen for opposing arguments and do my best to choose the one that leaves me feeling light, warm, responsible, and unselfish. Whenever I feel this way, I know I’m on the right track.