Gospel Story Finder

Sister Kasimbe shares her experience: “I grew in the gospel due to studying the scriptures. I remember before my mission I was given a calling to serve as Relief Society secretary. I love getting a calling but later realized that it was not an easy task for a 19-year-old who had just joined the Church. Surrounded by my own afflictions, I was supposed to minister—this was not easy for me. I remember being assigned to a Relief Society sister who had just lost her sister due to brain cancer. She was grieving and in pain. As I was with her, I felt her sorrow immediately. In my mind I felt the love of God towards her as I shared with her from the scriptures about life after death and that death is temporary. We were able to share from the scriptures and find joy.”

I remember attending a meeting near Bancroft, Idaho, years ago. It was sponsored in part by the extension service of the University. We’d had a wonderful meeting, and after it was over, I was greeting some of the wonderful farmers who were there, and among them was a man by the name of Brother Yost, and I said, “Brother Yost, how are things out on the farm?” Brother Yost said, “Oh, things are fine, Brother Benson, but I’m about 20 thousand dollars worse off than I was three days ago.” I said, “What’s the matter—another frost?” He said, “Yes, it hit the wheat just in the dough stage, and you know what that means.” He said, “We’re starting the mowing machines in the morning, but everything’s all right. We’ve still got a little wheat in the bin, and we’ve got at least part of our year’s supply laid away. We’re not going to starve, and there’ll be another crop.” As we left him, I said to my wife, “What a wonderful spirit.”

We drove on down to Logan. We had our children with us, and we stopped on Main Street to go into a grocery store to pick up a few cookies for the kiddies. And who should I meet on the sidewalk but Brother Yost. I said, “Well, what are you doing way down here?” He said, “Brother Benson, it’s our day to go to the temple.” And I said, “Well, reverses don’t dampen your spirits any, do they?” Then he taught me a lesson. He said, “Brother Benson, when reverses come we need the temple all the more.”

I know that you have a great feeling if you live that law. As I say, I give the credit to my parents. I remember after we were married—my wife and I—that I was working my way through school and I was working at the post office eight hours a day and carrying a full course of law. We had lost a baby, and we had a large hospital bill. I decided to quit the post office and start the practice of law. I quit in September and failed to pay tithing in September because I had built up a retirement benefit with the government that was to be paid to me in November, with which I felt I could pay my tithing. But it didn’t come in November and it didn’t come in December. I had to report that year to my bishop that I had not paid a full tithe. But I did not feel good about it, so I kept a record and paid it in installments at 8 percent interest until I had paid the deficit in full. I had a good feeling after I got it paid. I knew the Lord had understood and accepted my performance.

When I arrived in the Peru Chiclayo Mission, my only desire was to be obedient and work with great fervor to find those who would accept the gospel. Each morning, my companion and I knelt to pray for help in finding those who were seeking the Savior. Many times our prayers were answered.
About 18 months into my mission, I was assigned to the Los Proceres Ward, Chiclayo Peru El Dorado Stake. My companion and I began to work in the same way he and his former companion had been working. One morning as we went out to work, we discovered we didn’t have any appointments, so we decided to collect some referrals from the members.
On our way to a member’s home we passed a certain street, and I felt a very special sensation. I realized that the Lord wanted us to knock on the doors of the houses on that street. I told my companion what I was feeling and proposed that we tract there. He agreed.
We knocked on the first three doors on the block—and were rejected at all three. This response discouraged my companion so much that he wanted to go back to our first plan of getting member referrals. Seeing how he felt, I agreed, but I could not deny the feeling I had.
Later that month, my companion was transferred and Elder Meyhuay was assigned to work with me. I helped him get settled the first night, but the first thing the next day I took him to the street where I had received the impression. I told him about my feeling, and he agreed to help me knock on every door on that street.
And so we began. As before, the people in the first few houses rejected us. But we were determined to endure to the end. Then we arrived at the house of the Quesada Zerita family. The woman who answered the door invited us in, and we taught her the first missionary discussion. She was very moved by it. We returned two days later in search of her husband. He also agreed to listen to us, and we taught another discussion. This time the whole family was there.
So began a beautiful experience. As time went by, many of the families on that street wanted to hear the discussions. In order to accommodate them all, we had to set up benches outside and project our filmstrips in the street. As we spoke to the large numbers of people who gathered to hear our message, we felt like the Apostles in ancient times. All of this gave us great joy.
Going to church was exciting; we had to stop four or five taxis to get all the people to the meetinghouse, and the people from this street filled up four pews in the chapel. In the three months my companion and I worked together, we baptized about 50 people. Their names are written in my journal and in my heart.
I have since learned that the street, which we called “Mormon Street,” is now part of a new Church unit. The families we baptized are still active in the Church, and this especially fills me with joy.
Now that I have completed my mission and returned to my home in Ica, Peru, I still have challenges. But the experiences I had in the mission field give me strength. On my mission I learned to listen to the Lord. I learned that, like Nephi, when I seek to do the Lord’s will, I can be “led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do” (1 Ne. 4:6).

Steven and Robert Van Wagenen, Crescent 8th Ward, Sandy Utah Crescent Stake. Steven, 17, is a senior in high school and Robert, 15, is a sophomore.

Steven, like Stacie, worked two jobs. He had been trying for some time to get on with a travelers’ check company that offered a good summer part-time job working with computers. This year he got the job. He also works all year around as a custodian at an elementary school near his home. He regularly puts money into savings for college and a mission.

Steven is interested in photography and wanted to buy a camera. He found a used one he wanted and decided to work and save for it. He estimated his budget and kept his expenses in general terms:

Estimate
Actual
Income
$800.00
$800.00
Expenses
tithing
80.00
80.00
savings
350.00
310.00
camera
290.00
290.00
new shoes
50.00
50.00
entertainment
30.00
45.00
miscellaneous
-0-
25.00
total
$800.00
$800.00

Steven reached his goal of buying his camera. He had trouble when he did not plan in a miscellaneous category to cover gas and lunches. That money had to come out of the amount he planned to save. He also bought a music tape and went over in his entertainment category. Writing down what he actually spent was a little surprising to Steven. “There’s probably $100 over the summer that I don’t even know where it went.”

But Steven can’t cut out everything fun or impulsive that he does with his money. He just needs to plan a miscellaneous category into his budget.

One of the most challenging things I’ve ever overcome was my “I don’t care” attitude. If I wasn’t passionate about what I was doing, I was cold and impatient with people.

This all changed one school break when I was asked to care for my 76-year-old grandfather. “Dadi,” as we called him, had suffered a stroke, which left him half-paralyzed. When my family asked me to care for him for two months, I couldn’t even imagine how!

I had to wake up early to prepare his breakfast, his bath, and his medicine. I helped him walk around for his daily exercise. Since he had difficulty moving, I was by his side at all times, including during his bath and his toilet. As an 18-year-old girl, this was the hardest part.

Aside from all this, he was difficult to be with. He is not a member of the Church and has different principles than I do. He was a man full of regrets—always shouting, never smiling, and constantly saying, “I’m dying!” Because of this attitude, it was hard for us to share a good bond.

At first, I did all I could to avoid my tasks, but that didn’t work. So I decided to change my attitude and give my best effort.

After a week of this new attitude, serving Dadi became a joy to me. My patience grew, and I came to understand his affliction. As I served him, I stopped thinking of being with him as a burden but rather as an opportunity to create good times with him.

Dadi changed too. This frowning old man became a smiling, gentle grandpa. He even came to like listening to Especially for Youth songs!

One night I heard him making some noise, so I looked into his room to find out what he was doing. He was praying for the first time. I’m inspired every day by this change.

Now I’m back at college, but I still go twice a month to visit Dadi with my family. We eat with him and sing for him. His health has worsened, so now the most powerful help that I can give is prayers on his behalf.

I’m grateful for the opportunity to watch over Dadi because it helped me see what I’m capable of giving. Love is a very powerful thing—it softened both my heart and Dadi’s. I have learned the meaning of sacrifice and compassion. Truly, charity enlightens every heart!

While my dear wife and I were serving as mission leaders in Thailand, Laos, and Myanmar, we witnessed firsthand the power of God that comes to those who make and keep sacred covenants in the temple. The Temple Patron Assistance Fund made it possible for many Saints in these three countries to attend the temple after doing all they could through personal sacrifice and preparation. I recall meeting a group of 20 faithful Saints from Laos at an airport in Bangkok, Thailand, to help them transfer to another airport in Bangkok to catch their flight to Hong Kong. These members were brimming with excitement to finally be traveling to the house of the Lord.

When we met these good Saints upon their return, the added gospel maturity and associated power resulting from receiving their temple endowment and entering into covenants with God were evident. These Saints clearly went forth from the temple “armed with [His] power.” This power to do more than they could do themselves gave them strength to endure the challenges of Church membership in their home country and to go forth bearing “exceedingly great and glorious tidings, in truth,” as they continue building the Lord’s kingdom in Laos.

When I was young, I had to hurry home from school on Tuesday afternoons in order to get to Primary on time. It was held during the week then. I remember one particular teacher, Sister Rawlings. She helped our class learn the last five articles of faith so we could recite them all. She also instilled in me a love for Scouting. On my 12th birthday, I spent the afternoon passing off the Tenderfoot requirements so I could be a Scout. Sister Rawlings had prepared me well, and I passed. She gave me a Boy Scout pocketknife that I treasured for years.

Jessica also likes to read about recipes. She logs on to the Internet and types in the kind of food she wants to make and searches for recipes. She likes to bake cookies and cakes. She likes simple recipes the best—ones that don’t have too many ingredients. Jessica has already planned on baking her own chocolate birthday cake. She found a recipe that looks wonderful, with not too many ingredients.
Also on the Internet, Jessica found a recipe for gingersnaps. “It turned out that the recipe was 128 years old. It was created just after the Civil War. Don’t you think that’s interesting?” she asks.
The cookies tasted great, but Jessica couldn’t resist trying a little experiment. She used food coloring to make the cookies green. Then she put some orange food coloring in some granulated sugar and shook it, turning all the sugar bright orange. Then she sprinkled the orange sugar on the green cookies. “I took three cookies to school,” Jessica says, “but no one would try them except for the teacher.”

I was once called to the Relief Society presidency of my young single adult ward. I was excited to start. But after a few months, I felt discouraged. I couldn’t see any spiritual growth in those I was trying to minister to. My efforts to visit and befriend seemed to fall flat.

One Sunday, I felt like I was missing the spiritual gifts that help someone be good at ministering. My prayer during the sacrament that day was to feel assurance that I was capable of my calling. I felt impressed to ask for a priesthood blessing.

I met with my bishop, and as he laid his hands on my head, one of the first things he said to me was, “Heavenly Father appreciates the kindness you show to others.”

The Spirit washed over me, and I felt assured that the Lord was pleased with my efforts. I felt I did have a portion of the gifts needed to minister lovingly. I had just been measuring my failures rather than my successes.

When the phone rang Sunday morning, Missy answered it.
“My father’s taking us to the water slide,” Karen said. “Can you come?” Missy looked down at her good dress and shiny black shoes and sighed. “I’ll ask,” she said, “but I know my parents won’t let me go on Sunday.” Missy loved the water slide more than any other place on earth.
As she feared, Dad said no.
“It isn’t fair,” Missy told him. “There are too many rules. I’m always so busy following rules that I never get to have any fun.”
When she came home from school the next day, Missy found a mysterious envelope on her bed. Inside was a note in her mother’s handwriting:
“Dear Missy,
There is a wonderful treasure to be found if you can follow the clues that lead to it. It comes from far away, from someone who loves you. You will find the next clue somewhere in your room. Happy treasure hunting!
Love, Mom.”
Missy glanced around. Everything looked the same as she had left it that morning. The second clue must be hidden. She felt a tingle of excitement as she began searching for it.
She started with her desk, wondering what in the world the treasure could be. Maybe it’s money, she thought as she rifled through drawers. Or a new bike, she hoped, looking under the blotter. But after a thorough check, she found nothing.
She looked in her dresser, on her bulletin board, and under her bed. When all those places turned out to be clue-free, she plopped herself onto her bed in frustration. She was about to ask for help when she felt something hard under her pillow.
She pulled out a small silver box. Inside was another note:
“Congratulations on finding the second clue. Keep it in this box along with the other clues. In a room that’s dark and deep, the next clue lies buried.”
“This one’s easy,” Missy said aloud. “The deepest, darkest room in the house is the basement, and it’s the only one with a dirt floor.”
As she went down the basement stairs, she saw Dad’s shovel against one wall. She could tell that the dirt beneath it had been recently disturbed. She dug down a few inches and hit an old tin can with a plastic lid. Inside was the third clue.
This game is starting to be a lot of fun, Missy thought as she pulled a note out of the can. This one said:
“You’ve found number three; you’re halfway to the treasure! Number four waits where flowers bloom.”
Missy put the third clue into her silver box and ran outside. The next clue must be in the garden, she told herself. And she was right. She found an old leather wallet lying between a rosebush and some tulips. The note inside read:
“Well done! You’ve found all but the last clue. Look where dinner is cooked.”
Missy hurried to the kitchen and went to the stove. She couldn’t see anything on the top, so she opened the oven door. There it was—a small brown box with the fifth clue inside. Missy read the note aloud.
“Congratulations! You have discovered the fifth and final clue. The treasure is above your room, moving to and fro.”
Hmmm. This one’s a little strange, Missy thought, adding the last clue to the silver box. But I know that the only room above mine is the attic! She took the attic stairs two steps at a time but was stopped at the door by a strange creaking sound. It frightened her a little, but she wasn’t about to quit, so close to the prize. She opened the door and stepped into the attic.
In the middle of the floor was Grandpa’s old rocking chair, moving back and forth. And on the seat was an envelope. Missy opened the envelope and gasped in surprise. Inside was an airplane ticket to Florida and a letter from Grandma. Missy quickly read the letter and began to jump up and down. Grandma had invited her to come for a visit.
Just then, her parents stepped out of the shadows at the back of the attic.
“Oh, Mom, Daddy!” she exclaimed happily. “Grandma wants me to visit her.”
“We know,” Dad said. “That’s wonderful, and we’re sure you’ll have a great time. But sit down now, and let’s have a talk.”
“Did you like our little game?” Mom asked.
“Oh yes, it was fun!”
“We’re glad you enjoyed it,” Dad said. “But we also hope it will help explain why we have rules to follow.”
Missy looked puzzled. “What are you talking about?”
“Look at your ticket, dear,” Mom said. “Is there a date?”
Missy examined the ticket. “It’s for this Friday.”
Dad took the ticket and hid it behind his back. “What if we’d just said, ‘There’s a treasure in the house. Find it and you can have it.’?”
“I’d have searched until I found it.”
“Of course,” Dad said. “But would you have found it by Friday?”
“Oh.” Missy’s face grew serious as she thought it over. “You and Mom would have helped me find it on time,” she finally said.
“Why?” Dad asked.
“Because you’re my parents, and you love me.”
“Right again,” Mom said. “That’s why we gave you the clues. But it was up to you to follow them.”
“Your Father in Heaven is your parent, too,” Dad said, “and He loves you very much. He has also sent you on a treasure hunt. The treasure is to become like Him and to live with Him again.”
“And He has also given you clues to follow,” Mom added. “They are clearer than our clues were, and they are much more important—but not always so easy to obey.”
Missy smiled. “I think I understand—Heavenly Father’s clues are the commandments, and if I want the treasure, I have to follow them.”
Missy thought about the treasure hunt as she sat next to Mom in the airplane on her way to Florida. She knew she wouldn’t have wanted to miss this treasure. She didn’t want to miss Heavenly Father’s treasure, either.

As a father I was blessed to see great futures in God’s kingdom for my daughters as well as my sons. When I prayerfully sought guidance, I was shown a way to help my daughters recognize the trust God had placed in them as servants who could build His kingdom.

When my daughters were young, I saw that we could help others feel the love of those beyond the veil, throughout the generations. I knew that love comes from service and inspires hope of life eternal.

So we carved breadboards on which we placed a loaf of homemade bread and went together to deliver our offering to widows, widowers, and families. The legend I carved on each of those breadboards read, “J’aime et J’espere,” French for “I love and I hope.” The evidence of their unique spiritual gifts appeared not just on the boards I carved but more clearly as we distributed them to those who needed, in the midst of pain or loss, reassurance that the love of the Savior and His Atonement could produce a perfect brightness of hope. This is life eternal for my daughters and for each of us.

Now, you may be thinking, “Brother Eyring, are you saying that I have to learn how to carve?” The answer is no. I learned to carve only with the help of a kind and gifted mentor, then-Elder Boyd K. Packer. What little skill I achieved can be attributed to his great gift as a carver and his patience as a teacher. Only heaven can provide such a mentor as President Packer. But there are many ways you can shape children’s hearts without carving wooden boards or height boards for them.

For example, new communication technologies allow sharing messages of faith and hope across the miles that separate us, instantaneously and at little or no cost. My wife helps me do this. We begin by talking by telephone with grandchildren or children we can reach. We ask them to share stories of their personal successes and their service rendered. We also invite them to send photos of those activities. We use those photos to illustrate a few paragraphs of text. We add one or two verses from the Book of Mormon. Perhaps Nephi and Mormon wouldn’t be very impressed by the spiritual quality of our content or the limited effort required to create what we call “The Family Journal: The Small Plates.” But Sister Eyring and I are blessed by the effort. We feel inspired in selecting the passages of scripture and the brief messages of testimony we write. And we see evidence in their lives of their hearts being turned toward us and to the Savior and upward.

There are other ways to reach out; you are already engaged in many of them. Your habits of family prayer and scripture reading will create more lasting memories and greater changes of heart than you may realize now. Even apparently temporal activities, such as attending an athletic event or watching a movie, can shape a child’s heart. What matters is not the activity but the feelings that come as you do it. I have discovered a good test for identifying activities with the potential to make a great difference in a young person’s life. It is that they suggest the activity out of an interest they feel has come to them as a gift from God. I know that is possible from my own experience.

When I became a deacon at the age of 12, I lived in New Jersey, 50 miles (80 km) from New York City. I dreamed of being a great baseball player. My father agreed to take me to see a game played in the old and storied Yankee Stadium, in the Bronx. I can still see the swing of the bat as Joe DiMaggio hit a home run into the center field stands with my father sitting beside me, the only time we ever went to a major league baseball game together.

But another day with my father shaped my life forever. He took me from New Jersey to the home of an ordained patriarch in Salt Lake City. I had never seen the man before. My father left me at the doorstep. The patriarch led me to a chair, placed his hands on my head, and pronounced a blessing as a gift from God that included a declaration of the great desire of my heart.

He said that I was one of those of whom it had been said, “Blessed are the peacemakers.”6 I was so surprised that a perfect stranger could know my heart that I opened my eyes to see the room where such a miracle was happening. That blessing of my possibilities has shaped my life, my marriage, and my priesthood service.

From that experience and what has followed it, I can testify, “For all have not every gift given unto them; for there are many gifts, and to every man is given a gift by the Spirit of God.”7

By the Lord revealing to me a gift, I have been able to recognize and prepare for opportunities to exercise it to the blessing of those I love and serve.

God knows our gifts. My challenge to you and to me is to pray to know the gifts we have been given, to know how to develop them, and to recognize the opportunities to serve others that God provides us. But most of all, I pray that you will be inspired to help others discover their special gifts from God to serve.

I promise you that if you ask, you will be blessed to help and lift others to their full potential in the service of those they lead and love. I testify to you that God lives, Jesus is the Christ, this is the priesthood of God, which we hold, and God has prepared us with special gifts to serve Him beyond our fondest hopes. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

By late afternoon the next day, 30 backpacks formed a long, brightly colored line that moved slowly up toward the clouds. We were with Varsity Scouts from the South Cottonwood Third Ward, Salt Lake Cottonwood Stake, and Explorers from the Granger 22nd Ward, Salt Lake Granger Central Stake. We were hiking in the Wind River Mountains, which are close to the Tetons and to the camp.
The weight of the packs and the slipping rocks underfoot kept heads bent toward the trail. Sweat streamed down everyone’s face. All of us walked one step at a time on a path that had started steep and was getting even steeper.
“We’re getting high enough to meet the angel Gabriel,” Robert Beeler joked. The rest of the group didn’t do much talking. Behind lay the valley floor, where we had started that morning. It seemed incredibly distant. But even though everyone was exhausted, the guides kept us all moving.
“There wasn’t just one big push,” Ron Wood remembered later. “The whole day was the push. A lot of us wondered if we were ever going to make it.”
“My pack was way too heavy,” Steven Aslami admitted. “So the other guys divided up some of my things and carried them for me. Next time,” he laughed, “I’ll leave my stereo home.”
Rest stops were kept short, just long enough for everyone to catch their breath and for our guides, Richard Jones and Greg Longson, to check maps. Both Richard and Greg are returned missionaries. Like Bob Burk, they had come to the base as young Scouts. Like Bob, they had now returned for the summer to share what they’d learned.
“How much farther do we have to go?” Kelly Crowther asked.
“Not too far.” The guides had been saying the same thing since the first hour.
The trail continued into the alpine zone, the highest region of the wilderness. A red-tailed hawk drifted in the warm evening air. The mountain was beautiful, but later, when asked about the scenery on the first part of the hike, Doug Tolman summed up what most of us had experienced: “Scenery? I don’t know. All I saw were my feet.”
The incline became less steep, dropped down, and finally ended at Coyote Lake. It was evening, and the sun was going down. Fish were turning in the water. We took off our packs, drank from an icy stream, and built our campfires. As a precaution against marauding bears, we hung our food in trees. Soon the rich aroma of stew mixed with the fragrance of mountain air. There was a relaxed feeling of accomplishment. All of us felt it, the kind of feeling that comes only when you’ve worked hard for something. Sleep came easily that night.

I was not a member of the Church when my children were little—it took me 18 years to decide to be baptized—but my husband was. He helped our children build a relationship with Heavenly Father through family prayer, scripture study, and family home evening. We were far from perfect, but my husband was persistent and patient.
I believe that my husband’s example of living the gospel was the biggest influence on our children. They saw him read scriptures, pray, and attend church—even if on his own. This had an impact far more powerful than anything we formally taught.

I remember well a couple who endured such an experience. The woman was only 21 years old at the time—a beautiful and devoted wife. In her first trimester, she contracted German measles. Abortion was advised because the developing baby would almost surely be damaged. Some members of her family, out of loving concern, applied additional pressure for an abortion. Devotedly, the couple consulted their bishop. He referred them to their stake president, who, after listening to their concern, counseled them not to terminate the life of this baby, even though the child would likely have a problem. He quoted this scripture:
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”
They chose to follow that counsel and allowed their child to be born—a beautiful little girl, normal in every respect, except for total hearing loss. After their daughter’s evaluation at a school for the deaf, the parents were advised that this child had the intellect of a genius. She attended a major university on a scholarship. Now some 40 years later, she enjoys a wonderful life.

The first time we took our three-year-old daughter to Temple Square in Salt Lake City, Utah, she showed me what it means to come unto Christ. As we were going up the ramp in the North Visitors’ Center, she looked up and saw the statue of Jesus. She let go of my hand, looked into my face, and with an expression of unutterable love and eagerness said, “Oh, Daddy! It’s Jesus!” She then ran as fast as she could to meet him.

In 1999, a woman newly baptized in the Church wrote the following letter to President Hinckley: “‘My journey into the Church was unique and quite challenging. This past year has been the hardest year that I have ever lived in my life. It has also been the most rewarding. As a new member, I continue to be challenged every day.’ …
“‘Church members don’t know what it is like to be a new member of the Church. Therefore, it’s almost impossible for them to know how to support us.’…
“This woman goes on:
“‘When we as investigators become members of the Church, we are surprised to discover that we have entered into a completely foreign world, a world that has its own traditions, culture, and language. We discover that there is no one person or no one place of reference that we can turn to for guidance in our trip into this new world. At first the trip is exciting, our mistakes even amusing, then it becomes frustrating and eventually, the frustration turns into anger. And it’s at these stages of frustration and anger that we leave. We go back to the world from which we came, where we knew who we were, where we contributed, and where we could speak the language.’”7

One day while I was reading the Liahona (Spanish), I found a phrase that remained in my mind and heart: “Adversity can make you strong” (September 1993, 33). I thought about how adversity is an essential part of our Father in Heaven’s plan, but I never imagined I would later find in this phrase the strength to go forward against the challenges of life.
The town in the Argentina Buenos Aires North Mission where my companion and I were working was filled with people of other religions who viewed two boys in white shirts and ties with great distrust. We had knocked on many doors, but the results were not encouraging.
Summer days in Buenos Aires are very warm (usually around 30 degrees Celsius) and also very humid. There is little wind. We usually traveled from one place to another on bicycles. Things were already quite hot and difficult one day—our tired bodies could practically go no further—and then it began to rain. We decided to set out on foot. The mud stuck to our shoes, and walking was almost an acrobatic performance.
As a result of this adversity, we wanted to return home. Then I remembered that phrase from the Liahona and told my companion, “Come on, Elder. All this adversity is going to make us strong.” We offered a prayer, and we both felt we should look up an old referral we had never been able to find.
We arrived at the house, and once again the woman was not there. Nevertheless, another woman, Anita, was there. She spoke with us and seemed quite pleasant, so we left a copy of the Book of Mormon with her. She promised to read it. We felt great happiness in our hearts, for the Spirit had indeed led us to her.
We returned the following day, and Anita accepted all the principles we taught her. But when it was time to teach her the fourth discussion, she told us she did not want to be baptized and that it would be better if we left the house. My companion and I were very disappointed, but we knew we were going to have opposition. So we invited her to pray and ask the Lord if she should be baptized. We trusted that she would receive an answer.
We went back the next day, and Anita had indeed received her answer in an undeniable way. Her heart was filled with peace. Ten days later, she was baptized. She finished reading the Book of Mormon and found in it an inextinguishable fountain of knowledge and inspiration.
I have since learned that after one year of active membership Anita made covenants in the holy temple and that she became a source of referrals for the missionaries and a great example to the members of her community, who began to change their views of the Church.
Today I value all the opposition my companion and I had because that was how we found the strength to serve the Lord in the best way we could. Even now that I have returned to my home in Chile, I do not become discouraged with the problems that arise in life because I know adversity will strengthen me.

“Sometimes, my wife and I forget things and get irritable with each other,” says another aging brother. “We feel frustrated being so forgetful, and especially regret afterward angry words we say to each other.” They’ve learned to make notes to help them remember. They allow each other to take time to calm down before speaking. “And,” he says, “we’ve learned even more the importance of saying, ‘Thank you,’ and ‘I love you.’”

Several boys were kneeling in a circle on the sidewalk in front of David’s house, laughing and shouting. He watched them through the window. New in the neighborhood, he thought that this would be a good time to go out and make some friends. When the screen banged shut behind him, the boys looked up.
“Hi.” David combed his brown hair to one side with his fingers. “My name’s David. I just moved in. What are you doing?”
“We’re playing Grasshopper Gladiators,” a boy with reddish hair and freckles told him.
“I’ve never heard of that before,” David said. “How do you play?”
“You have to catch a grasshopper first,” said another boy. David had seen most of them at school, but he hadn’t been there long enough to learn their names. And right now they were more interested in their game than they were in him.
There were a lot of weeds around his new house. It had stood empty for quite a while before his parents bought it. It shouldn’t be too hard to find a grasshopper in all these weeds. He walked slowly through them till he heard a low buzzing sound to his right. Perched on a tall blade of grass was a brown grasshopper at least an inch long. David stopped and moved his cupped hands slowly toward it. When they were about three inches from it, he snatched at it. He felt it hit against the inside of his hands and then stand motionless. Experience had taught him that if he wasn’t very careful, when he opened his hands to look at his catch, it would be gone in a flash.
He waited a few more seconds. When he didn’t feel it jump again, he moved his left thumb, making a small opening. Then he tipped his hands until the warm afternoon sun entered the opening and made it easier for him to see the small creature.
He had read that grasshoppers have two hard lips and sharp biting jaws to help them tear off bits of plants for food. It’s a good thing it’s so much smaller than I am, he thought. Otherwise I might be in for a good bite.
David remembered the night his family had been reading about John the Baptist in Mark 3 in the New Testament. John had grown up eating locusts and honey. Mom had explained that locusts were a type of grasshopper. She had been told by someone who had eaten them that they tasted something like shrimp.
I like shrimp a lot, David thought, but I don’t know if I could eat a grasshopper. The grasshopper hopped toward the opening. David moved his left thumb quickly to keep it from jumping out. Its feet tickled. “I caught one,” he yelled as he approached the boys on the sidewalk.
“Good,” said the redhead. “Mark needs a challenger.” He nodded his head toward the boy who had told David to catch one.
The boys opened up to let David into the ring. What he saw made his stomach knot. In the center of the boys’ circle were grasshopper legs, wings, heads, and bodies. Two grasshoppers were still alive but had been stripped of their back two sets of legs and wings. They struggled helplessly before the laughing boys.
“What are you doing?” David choked out.
“What does it look like we’re doing?” the redhead retorted. “We’re making Roman gladiators out of them. We take turns pulling something off the other guy’s grasshopper. The guy whose grasshopper lives the longest wins.”
David watched in horror as one of the struggling grasshoppers stopped moving.
“I’m the winner!” the redhead chortled.
“That gives Jerry a score of six,” Mark said, marking a line under the initial J. S. on the sidewalk with chalk. “Is the new kid going to challenge me next?”
“No!” David shouted. “That’s mean.”
“You mean, mean boys,” Mark mimicked in a whiny voice. “Now you’ve gone and upset the new boy. How could you be so mean?”
“Oh, go away and leave us alone,” said Jerry, rising to his feet. He was a good head taller than David and was scowling at him. “What are you, anyway—a grasshopper lover? Come on, Mark, Steve will challenge you. You have a hopper left, haven’t you, Steve?”
A slightly built boy with blond hair answered. “Yeah, I have one. Hey, David, they’re only grasshoppers. It isn’t like we’re really hurting anything.”
“No.” David freed his grasshopper. “It isn’t right.”
He turned his back on the other boys and walked toward his house. He wanted to run from the jeering that followed him but forced himself to walk slowly. He didn’t want them to think that he was afraid of them.
Mom came into the living room from the kitchen. “Did you meet some of the neighbor boys?” she called cheerfully.
“I wish we’d never moved here,” he muttered.
“Why? What happened?”
“See those boys on the sidewalk?” His mother nodded. “They’re making a game out of tearing grasshoppers apart.”
“Oh, no!” His mother hesitated. “Do you want me to ask them to stop?”
David shook his head. “I already did. They just laughed at me and called me a grasshopper lover.”
“It isn’t a good way to get introduced into the neighborhood, is it?” Mom asked understandingly.
“I don’t care if they don’t like me,” David told her. “Who wants to be friends with guys like that.”
He went down the hall to his room and threw himself across his bed. The truth was, he did care. He wanted to have friends. But he couldn’t stand by and watch those boys destroy small, helpless creatures.
Mom had never let him kill even a spider. She had insisted that spiders are good and had a place in God’s world. She helped him catch them in paper cups and set them free outside. The same was true with bees and wasps.
Together they had watched a butterfly emerge from its cocoon. Its wings looked damp and crumpled at first. Then, ever so slowly, they unfolded and the butterfly pumped them up with fluid and fanned them slowly. Finally it flew away.
Dad had read him the story in Moses 7 in the Pearl of Great Price about Enoch hearing the earth cry out because of the wickedness of the people. And when they worked in the flower garden together, his mother sometimes said, “I hope that this little corner of the earth is feeling joy because of our efforts.”
In a family home evening he had learned the story in Matthew 21 [Matt. 21], Luke 19, and John 12 in the New Testament of Jesus entering Jerusalem riding on the colt. The people greeted Him with branches of palm trees and called out “Hosanna.” The Pharisees told Him to make the people stop. But Jesus said that “the stones would immediately cry out” hosannas if the people were silenced.
Dad had said that in some ways the earth’s spirit was like ours. Its body needs proper care if its spirit is to be happy. And all the creatures of the earth have spirits and can experience joy. David had even been afraid to pick flowers at one time. But then he’d realized that the joy plants experience must be connected to their service to man.
He loved to read stories about Native Americans. They gave a prayer of thanksgiving to the spirit of an animal after they killed it for food. And they thanked it for its gift of life.
Who needs friends like Mark and Jerry and those other boys, David thought again. I’d rather be alone.
“Come on, David, it’s time to get up,” Mom called from his bedroom doorway Sunday morning.
Oh, great! David thought. Church! It had been bad enough the past few days at school with Mark and Jerry and their gang calling him “grasshopper lover” during recess. No one had dared to pay any attention to him, at least not in a friendly way. Jerry and Mark seemed to lead the whole sixth grade. He could find some remote corner during recess and lunch most of the time. Walking home from school was the hardest. With a bunch of other kids, they usually waited and teased him all the way home. And he’d learned that Mark, Jerry, and Steve were in his ward at church. He pulled the pillow over his head.
“David,” Mom called a few minutes later. “Come on, breakfast is ready.”
“I’m not hungry,” David called. “Eat without me.”
He knew better than to think that that would keep Mom away. Less than a minute later she was back in his doorway. “What’s the matter, David?” she asked. “Don’t you feel well?”
It would be easy to tell her I’m sick, he thought, but that wouldn’t be true. Besides, I like church. I’m not going to let a few tough guys keep me from going. Aloud, he said, “I’m coming, Mom. I’ll be all right once I get going.”
It wasn’t hard to figure out where the Valiants sat. Jerry and Mark sat together at one end of the row, glaring at him. He sat on the opposite end. Steve came in during the opening song. There were only two seats left. One was in the middle of the girls. One was by him. David watched Steve’s look of bewilderment with slight amusement. Which would he be hassled the most for—sitting by the girls or by a grasshopper lover?
Steve only hesitated for a moment before slipping in next to David. “Hi,” he whispered under his breath, then joined in the song while Mark and Jerry talked and pointed their way.
When they were dismissed to class, Jerry and Mark elbowed their way to the chairs on the back row. They tipped their chairs against the back wall and called to Steve to join them. He looked at them and then at David sitting on the front row. He surprised David by sitting by him. “I’m glad you like grasshoppers,” he whispered. “I wish I’d stood up to those guys like you did.”
David felt a glow inside. He turned and gave Steve a grin. “It’s easier to stand up to people you don’t know.”
After she introduced herself and the rest of the class members to David, Sister Newell said, “Today I want to talk about the story of Korihor from the Book of Mormon. Who can tell me something about Korihor.”
“He was an antichrist,” one of the girls behind David volunteered.
“That’s right, Mary,” Sister Newell replied. “He was an antichrist. What does that mean?”
“It means that he didn’t believe that Jesus Christ was real,” Mary answered.
“Thank you, Mary. Does anyone besides Mary remember something about Korihor?”
David loved that story. He knew it by heart. But he didn’t want to look like a know-it-all or a show-off his first day of Primary.
The rest of the class was silent, too. Then Jerry blurted out from the back row. “Hey, wasn’t he the guy that got stomped to death?”
“Yes,” Sister Newell answered. “He was trampled to death. Open your Book of Mormon to Alma 30. Skim through the chapter if you need to, and find why Korihor was struck dumb.”
David stopped worrying about looking like a know-it-all. He loved this story and wanted to share what he had learned from it with others. Maybe Jerry and Mark would listen to Alma’s words, even if they wouldn’t listen to his. He raised his hand.
“David,” Sister Newell called.
David jabbed his finger along the pages in his Book of Mormon as he answered. “Starting in verse 37, Alma asks Korihor if he believes in God. Korihor tells him, ‘No.’ Alma testifies that there is a God and a Christ and tells Korihor that evidence that God lives is all around him. Korihor tells Alma that if there is a God, He should give a sign that He has power. Verse 44 reads, ‘But Alma said unto him: Thou hast had signs enough; will ye tempt your God? Will ye say, Show unto me a sign, when ye have the testimony of all these thy brethren, and also all the holy prophets? The scriptures are laid before thee, yea, and all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it, yea, and its motion, yea, and also all the planets which move in their regular form do witness that there is a Supreme Creator.’
“Then Alma told Korihor that because he would not accept the testimonies of other people and of all creation around him, he would be struck dumb.”
“That’s right, David. Thank you. What can we learn from this story?”
Steve raised his hand. “I think that it’s teaching us the importance of listening to the testimonies of other people. We should also treat everything around us on earth like it is a testimony of God and Christ. Even grasshoppers.”
The fidgeting on the back row stopped. There was a thud as the front legs of Jerry’s and Mark’s chairs hit the floor.
“You mean Korihor became dumb and was trampled to death because he didn’t respect bugs?” Jerry snorted.
“I’m not sure what bugs and grasshoppers have to do with the story of Korihor,” Sister Newell answered, “but I do know that he didn’t accept that these kinds of things bore testimony of the Savior and our Heavenly Father. You’ll notice in verse 59 that Korihor was trampled by the Zoramites. These were Nephites who lost the companionship of the Holy Ghost. Loss of the Holy Ghost takes away our respect for all forms of life. Otherwise they would not have trampled him.”
Then the bell rang for Sharing Time. Jerry and Mark didn’t push their way past everyone else this time. They even asked David and Steve if they could sit by them in the Primary room.
After church, Jerry, Mark, and Steve waited for David in the foyer. “Do you want to walk home with us?” Jerry asked him.
“Is it all right?” David asked his parents.
“Sure,” Dad said. “We’ll see you in a little while.”
No one said anything for the first block. Then Jerry broke the silence. “I guess Grasshopper Gladiators is a pretty mean game,” he said. “I’m not going to play it anymore.”
“Me either,” Mark agreed. “I just never thought of bugs and things as being a testimony of Jesus before.”
“I’d sure hate to end up like Korihor or those Zoramites,” Jerry added.
“Me, too,” Mark agreed. “Maybe grasshopper lover isn’t such a bad nickname, after all—but I think I’ll just call you David now.”