Gospel Story Finder

Some years ago the entire United States was shocked with the report that a group of cadets at the U.S. Military Academy had been discharged because of cheating on their examinations in violation of the honor code and the solemn promise they gave at the time they entered the service. The reaction among the people of the United States was, to some extent, disappointing. Instead of feeling indignant, many seemed to justify cheating, stating that the honor standards were too high and that some cheating should be expected. One of the cadets who had withheld information said, “You don’t ‘fink’ on your buddies.”

Does it pay to be honest? This is probably one of the most constant questions for all children and young people. Older people have usually given their answer one way or another. How will you decide?

While in high school I watched my classmates play a special classroom game. The students were matched against the teacher. The name of the game was “How to pass the answers in an examination from one side of the room to the other without the knowledge of the teacher.” One boy in the middle of the room was the “quarterback.” He had a special knack and skillfully and joyfully carried out the process. The game was so much fun that many of the students participated, not thinking themselves dishonest, but merely playing a game. I tried it myself a time or two, though I felt little need of help in answering the questions. On one such attempt the teacher caught me, and the embarrassment and overpowering sense of guilt put an effective stop to my participation.

I noticed, however, that in the following years there was a little soft spot in my character. For example, after having served as a missionary and for four years in the U.S. Armed Forces, I was studying at a university, and there, sometimes, sitting in the back of the room during an examination, I discovered that I had a physical disability. A certain muscle in my neck had a tendency to twist my head in the direction of my neighbor’s paper. I was unaware how this weakness had developed, but it began to trouble me. I knew, of course, what was right, and I didn’t cheat, but how was I to control the involuntary muscle spasm?

One day I performed mental surgery on my neck. It was in the form of a lecture to myself, as follows: “Grant, before you came to school this morning you knew about this examination and you have studied the material carefully. Don’t you remember how, because it was so important, you knelt down and asked Heavenly Father to quicken your mind and increase your powers of memory and recall? Now, Grant, you know the rules of the gospel. You understand that if you take help from your neighbor, you are not going to get any from the Lord. Just make up your mind. Whose help would you rather have?”

You can see how, after that little pep talk, my neck muscle was completely cured.

During World War II, many cities in the United States enforced nightly blackouts to conserve fuel. In Salt Lake City the floodlights on the Salt Lake Temple were turned off. The temple stood dark in a dark city for years. When the ceasefire was declared in Europe, President Heber J. Grant ordered the floodlights of the temple turned back on.
For Christmas 1945, President George Albert Smith planned an inspiring and meaningful Christmas card. On the front was a photograph of the three eastern spires of the Salt Lake Temple beautifully lit against a dark blue background with the angel Moroni figure standing above. Across the bottom were the words “Christmas—1945” and the message “The lights are on again.”10 Nothing could have better reflected the joy felt by everyone after so many long years of death and destruction.
But this beautiful Christmas card was also President Smith’s way of bearing his testimony of Jesus Christ and the Restoration of the gospel. Just as the end of the war brought peace and light in dark places, the Restoration of the gospel following the centuries-long Apostasy turned the bright lights of truth “on again” for all the people of the world.

To provide for our family, my husband works hard offering taxi service on his motorcycle. He was recently in a traffic accident but miraculously did not suffer serious injury. He did, however, have to recuperate while his motorcycle was being repaired.
Because my husband was unable to work, we were worried. We had no other income, and our nation’s economic crisis further heightened our concern.
During sacrament meeting the Sunday following my husband’s accident, two of the talks centered on compassion and how we could develop this Christlike attribute. Afterward, one of our ward members approached me to say that a branch member was in dire need of food. She wondered if we could donate “a kilo of love”—a kilo (2.2 lbs.) of whatever kind of food we had on hand at home. I told her she could count on our support.
When our family arrived at home after church, I discussed the conversation with my husband. We were going through our own trial, but we felt blessed nevertheless.
“Although we are going through difficult days,” he said, “we have enough to make it from day to day, with maybe even a little extra to share.”
That afternoon, a neighbor who had heard of my husband’s accident, asked us to come visit. When we arrived, the neighbor gave us a box filled with 7 kilos (15 lbs.) of food, along with other items we needed. We were astonished. Neither of us had expected that kind of blessing.
As I talked to my husband about this experience, I could not help but recognize God’s hand and thank Him for His immense love for us. He had seen our willingness to share what we could—a single kilo of love—and had blessed us with seven times our offering.

Dad leaned back in his chair. “Do you remember a few years ago, when our family went backpacking in the mountains?”
“I think so.”
“You were very little then, but you wanted to carry your own pack. I’m afraid that it got pretty heavy long before we reached our campsite.”
“I remember now.” Katie’s face brightened. “I was tired, so we sat down to rest beside a stream. And then, when we started out again, you walked right beside me. The pack seemed much lighter then, and I was able to carry it all the way to camp.”
“Did you know that I was helping you?” Dad asked quietly.
“You mean by walking beside me and singing with me?”
“Yes. And also as we walked side by side, I was reaching out my hand and lifting the pack up off your back.”
“You were?” Katie looked at him in surprise. “And I didn’t even know it. No wonder my pack felt lighter—it was!”

It’s sometimes tough to be a teenager in Iceland for the same reasons that it’s hard in other countries. It’s the time when you have to make lots of decisions about how you want to live your life. Ulfar explains, “This is a hard age. Everyone is saying, ‘Hey, come get a drink. Have a cigarette.’ Everybody, even your friends, are going out drinking. They asked two or three times, but I just kept saying no and changed the subject. They leave me alone about it now.”

I finally let the two young men into my home in Padova, Italy, as a reward for their perseverance. They had continued to come back despite the excuses I made up when I found out they were Latter-day Saint missionaries. Finally, I found myself in my sitting room with them discussing happiness—much to my annoyance.
Although I enjoyed the conversation, hearing those two young men say that we could be happy on earth went against my beliefs. I felt that on this earth, we knew only sorrow—and that only after death, when we lived with God, could we experience happiness.
I should have considered myself lucky at the time, with a husband who loved me very much, a three-year-old daughter, and a new home. But the trials I had gone through in life had taught me otherwise. I grew up without a father and didn’t get along well with my mother. Six years earlier, I had lost a baby who lived only three days—a death I could not understand.
Thus I was unhappy and indifferent. When the missionaries left, they made another appointment and left a copy of the Book of Mormon with several marked verses they asked me to read. I read the verses over the next few days but didn’t understand them.
The missionaries returned every week, first coming by themselves and then, after asking my permission, bringing a sister from the Church. I agreed to accompany her to Church services the coming Sunday. When I entered the church, I felt as though I had always belonged there.
Several people greeted me pleasantly and shook my hand warmly. I noticed that everyone seemed calm, and I immediately felt a sense of peace within myself. It didn’t seem as though it was the first time I had entered the church—and this feeling frightened me. During the following week I felt irritable and had difficulty sleeping.
When the missionaries returned, I asked why, instead of experiencing the happiness and peace I had been promised, I had felt restless and couldn’t sleep. Instead of answering my question, they challenged me to be baptized. I laughed openly, telling they that they could continue to visit me, but that I would never join their church.
Later, however, after telling my husband about the experience and even laughing about it again, I began thinking of everything that had happened. Suddenly, as if something had released inside of me, I felt that I had to be baptized.
My husband tried to dissuade me, treating my decision first as a joke and then making it the cause of a quarrel. He even told me that I might lose my job, since everyone at work belonged to the Catholic Church. But the days went by, and I continued to insist until he finally gave his permission.
After I received the remaining missionary lessons, the day of my baptism finally arrived: 26 October 1986—two months after the missionaries arrived at my house. I was trembling with excitement and scared for the future. My husband agreed to attend the service with my daughter.
As soon as I entered the water, all my fears vanished, and I felt free. I will never forget the happiness I felt in that moment. Immersed in the water, I knew that my relatives and my other little daughter beyond the veil were happy and that they rejoiced in the choice I had made.
Four years have gone by since that day, and I have never before experienced such peace and happiness as I have known since joining the Church. I have become a better wife and mother and am now serving as president of my branch Relief Society. My daughter regularly attends Primary and is preparing for baptism. I also kept my job without any problem.
When trials overcome me that I feel are too heavy to bear, I have learned to confide in my Savior, Jesus Christ. I went to the temple for my endowment, and my suffering for my daughter’s death is almost gone because now I understand that I haven’t lost her forever.
I will never tire of thanking the two servants of the Lord who found me and brought me such precious gifts: the Book of Mormon, my membership in the Church, and true happiness.

Her path to baptism was not easy. Born in Togo, she first encountered the Church as a young girl but was prevented from being baptized by family members. As she got older, she moved to Accra Ghana, and with a friend decided that together they needed to find a church. “We decided to go to church because we really wanted to find God,” she said. “I began praying and would go into the bush and talk to the trees.”
One day, her friend came to her and said that he had found a church he wanted them to attend. Josey asked him which church it was and he said, “it’s the people who wear white and black.” She told him that she had been in that church before. “I know that it is a good church.”
Josey attended the church and felt as if she was where she should be. She began meeting with the missionaries and was soon baptized. “I found the Church again, and I am here. I have a family again, people that I love.” She is now a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and she wants everyone to know!

Another principle I learned from working was the principle of paying tithing. My family did not have very much money, but my parents paid us a small amount for the work we did. I learned from my parents and from my Church leaders that the Lord required only that I recognize that all these things came from Him and that 10 percent should be returned to Him.
It always gave me great satisfaction to fill out the envelope and give the small amount of tithing I owed to the Lord. The few nickels and dimes I gave as a young boy set a pattern that was easy to follow when I later received more money for my work. I still felt that same powerful feeling of satisfaction in knowing that by paying my tithing, I was doing what the Lord wanted me to do.

Just a few weeks ago I received a call from the Area President in the Europe Central Area. He said the members and missionaries in Albania and Moldova were so cold, and he wondered if the Relief Society might have any quilts to send their way. Imagine the joy I felt as I visited with Humanitarian Service and discovered that we could donate 1,000 quilts. Within days they were packaged and sent. The mission president wrote, “Members here were touched that other members would be thinking of them.” Thank you for your selfless service.

When I was a little older, I went with my dad on a business trip for his manufacturing company. We were to meet with a purchasing (buying) agent from a large company. My dad had always wanted to do business with them, but he had never been offered the opportunity.
When we met with the agent, he told us that we could have the project they were offering—if we increased the price and secretly sent him the extra money. My father said that we would call him later with our decision, and we left.
“What do you think we should do?” Dad asked me. He pointed out how much this project could benefit our company. He said that we could give more people jobs and accomplish much good.
Then he taught me something I have never forgotten. He said that if we were to be dishonest in even this one business dealing, we could seriously damage a reputation for honesty that took years to build. He turned the offer down. I am happy that he showed the courage to be honest at all times, even when the temptation was great.

Paper stars. I am half Thai and half American. I spent three years living in Laos, next to Thailand. For the first two years we were in Laos, my parents hired a pileang, or nanny, named Rojana, who took good care of me. Since she was Buddhist, I didn’t expect a gift from her at Christmas.
On Christmas morning I found a jar filled with at least a hundred tiny paper stars, folded so they were three-dimensional. They were blue and pink and glittery. Rojana had no money to buy me anything, so she spent hours folding those stars for a child who wasn’t her own.
It was a wonderful Christmas gift, a gift of time and dedication.Faye H., Virginia, USA

Six priests from Long Beach Seventh Ward, California, representing over 80 percent of their quorum, received their Duty to God awards and became licensed scuba divers during last year. Scott Taylor, Steve Burt, Lee Johnson, Jim Daniels, Jeff Burt, and Daril Johnson received training and experience through their Explorer post that enabled them to pass the requirements for scuba divers’ licenses. As a result they have been bringing home lobsters, crab, and other delicacies from the southern California coast.

Meg wanted to be perfect. She brushed her hair until it was perfectly shiny. She kept her hands perfectly clean. She kept her clothes perfectly neat.
Meg didn’t like messy sandboxes. She hated it when one shoelace was longer than the other. And she really didn’t like dirt. Playing tag looked like fun … but she might mess up her hair or get her shirt dirty!
On Meg’s birthday, her mommy and daddy gave her a special gift. It was a puppy! He was tan with white paws and soft brown eyes.
“Oh, I love him!” Meg said. “I’m going to call him Mittens.”
The next day, Meg played with Mittens in the yard. She threw the ball over and over again. They had so much fun. Then Mittens jumped into Meg’s lap. With dirty paws!
“Eww!” Meg yelled. “Mommy! Mittens got me dirty!”
Mommy came outside. She gave Meg a hug. “Puppies are messy,” she told Meg. “I know it’s hard for you. But I hope you can have fun with Mittens, even if it means getting a little dirty.”
Meg looked down at Mittens. She wanted her clothes perfectly clean. But she also wanted to keep playing with her puppy. She loved him!
“I guess it’s OK to get a little messy sometimes,” Meg said.
Days went by. Meg kept playing with Mittens. Sometimes he drooled a little on her clothes. Sometimes he drooled a lot on her clothes! After a while, Meg worried less about the mess. Mittens was fun to play with! He was always happy to see her.
Soon Meg started trying other new things. She waded in the lake with her family. She played in the sandbox. She played tag at recess.
One day, Mommy even had to remind Meg to change her dirty clothes! But Meg didn’t mind. Things didn’t need to be perfect for her to feel happy.

Because my wife and I knew of no schools in Madrid, Spain, that were run by members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and because we wanted our children to receive a religious education, we registered them in a school sponsored by another religion. Because our children were the only members of our Church attending this school, we hoped they wouldn’t become targets of religious discrimination.
One day in October 1999, our son, age 16 at the time, brought us an invitation from school to attend a lecture and discussion titled “Religious Sects: Mormonism.” The lecture was to be given by a prestigious authority known for having devoted a good part of his life to the study of religions, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in particular.
Fearing that an inaccurate impression of our beliefs might be given, I got in touch with our stake president and informed him of the meeting. He took note of the date and place and asked me to speak with the Church’s Public Affairs Department to see if a representative could attend and answer any questions that might arise.
When the date arrived, my wife, my son, and I went to the school. The hall where the lecture was held seated 500. Once we had taken our seats, our eyes sought any other Church members who might be in the large crowd that was filling the room. Soon we discovered Brother Quirce of Public Affairs. He gave us a friendly wave from the other side of the room.
The meeting started, and the director of instruction introduced the speaker, heaping praise upon him and giving a detailed accounting of the universities where he had obtained his degrees, both academic and ecclesiastical. The speaker began his talk by briefly summarizing the history of Christianity from the time of Jesus Christ and His Apostles until the year 1830, when the world first began to hear of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, organized in America.
The speaker was not too severe in his appraisal of our faith. It was obvious he had read many of our books because he frequently quoted verses from the Book of Mormon and the Doctrine and Covenants. He also read extensively from the Prophet Joseph Smith’s account of the First Vision. It appeared he intended to lead his listeners to the conclusion that if Mormonism were indeed a sect, as he believed, it was not one of the more dangerous ones.
I took notes of all the things I thought to be in error, such as when he said that Mormons were not Christians and that Joseph Smith had copied the Book of Mormon from an old American novel. The lecture was quite detailed and ended after more than 90 minutes, at which time the hall erupted into resounding applause.
When the applause was over and the discussion began, the first person to get to his feet was Brother Quirce, who introduced himself as a member of the Church. He explained how Joseph Smith had obtained the golden plates and what his contribution had been as the Prophet of the Restoration.
As I listened to Brother Quirce, I suddenly felt the need to get up also and clarify certain concepts so that everyone present might know the truth about our doctrine and our beliefs.
When I told my family I wanted to speak, my son was frightened and said, “No, Dad, please. Don’t say anything, because everybody here knows me, and I could have problems with my teachers.” I thought it cowardly for me to let Brother Quirce be the only one to speak, but I didn’t want my son to have problems, so for the moment I remained silent. As time passed, however, I could feel the increasing insistence of the Spirit.
I again told my family what I was feeling, and my son continued to express his opposition to my getting up. Finally, no longer able to resist the influence of the Spirit, I slowly got up and made my way around the rear of the auditorium to join Brother Quirce. A murmur of surprise arose from the crowd: “It’s another Mormon.”
As Brother Quirce concluded his remarks, I put my hand in my pocket to draw out the notes I had taken, but to my surprise my pockets were empty. I had left the notes at my seat. At just that moment it was my turn to take the floor.
I didn’t know where to begin. Everything I had intended to say disappeared from my mind. I began by saying that I had been a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for 26 years and that I knew it is the only true Church on the earth, that Jesus Christ had restored it through the Prophet Joseph Smith, that Jesus is the Son of God—our Savior and Redeemer.
I don’t remember how long I talked or all the words I said. I just remember that the silence was overwhelming and that I could feel the gaze of 500 pairs of eyes upon me. When I was finished, I thanked those present for giving me an opportunity to express my beliefs and turned and left the hall. I was at peace, but my legs were shaking.
When the meeting was over and I was able to rejoin my family, my son came up to me and said, “Dad, you did the right thing. You bore a beautiful testimony, and you spoke with power and authority. Dad, I’m proud of you!”
My son knew he might have problems at school because of what I had done, but it was more important to him to know his father has a testimony he is willing to stand up for.

“Well, it’s like a family treasure. Heirlooms may not always be expensive, but they always have a history, a story to tell. Your ring is special because it has a story of its very own. You see, a long time ago, your great-great-grandparents came to this country from a village in Austria. They loved their home very much but were hoping to build a better life for their children. When your great-grandmother was still a baby, they crossed the ocean in a big ship to Pennsylvania, where your great-great-grandfather worked in the coal mines.
“Their new life was hard. The pay wasn’t good—there were a lot of people just like them from the Old Country, working at the hardest jobs because they didn’t know English, and there wasn’t always work for everybody. Most of all, they missed their home and family back in Austria. But they worked hard, hoping to improve their life here and be able to return to visit.”
Mom took a deep breath. “They never did; they both died when their children were still young. It was very sad. One day, years later, after your great-grandmother was grown and had a family of her own, a letter came from a cousin in Austria. Her father’s land had been sold, and the money was being divided up among all the relatives. There was twenty-five dollars for your great-grandmother in the envelope.
“That was a lot of money then—much more than now—and she thought of all the things that she could buy for her family with it. But instead of spending it, she put it into a drawer for safekeeping, and it stayed there for months. Sometimes she’d take it out and count it. She tried to imagine what her parents’ village was like, and she wondered about her cousins.
“One morning she took the envelope into town to a jewelry shop. She picked out a small silver ring with a diamond chip in the center. It seemed very small on her large hand. It wasn’t one of the nicest rings, but it would represent her family and all that they meant to each other, and the price was just the right amount. She paid for it and took it home, putting it into the same drawer the envelope had been in. And when I was just about your age, she gave it to me and told me to wear it proudly. It was ‘a little piece of my home,’ she said.

I was busy shopping one day some years ago when two young women asked if they could speak with me. “Certainly,” I replied.
“If you died today,” they asked, “would you go to heaven?”
They must have noticed my surprise, because they immediately opened their copies of the Bible and quoted a verse from the New Testament. “All you need to do to go to heaven,” they declared, “is to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ.”
What followed is still a painful memory. I was amazed at their doctrine, and I tried to remember what I had learned at Sunday School, seminary and college religion classes I had taken on the New Testament; but I could give only one scripture to indicate that there was more to entering the kingdom of heaven than simply a profession of faith.
The two women quickly quoted other scriptures similar to the first. I could share some of my beliefs as a Latter-day Saint, but I could not quote the principles from the scriptures. Unconvinced by my feeble arguments, they soon left me. I watched them walking hurriedly up to the next shopper.
“It is a common thing,” President Spencer W. Kimball said, “to have a few passages of scripture at our disposal, floating in our minds, as it were, and thus to have the illusion that we know a great deal about the gospel.”
Such an illusion was mine!
“Each of us,” he continued, “at some time in our lives, must discover the scriptures for ourselves—and not just discover them once, but rediscover them again and again.” (Tambuli, September, 1976.)
The experience discouraged me, and I determined to never again be unprepared. I set aside some regular study time, and began to discover the gospel again.

In 1975 Janelle Griffin was a sophomore at Woods Cross High School in Bountiful, Utah. An assigned paper on the population explosion started a chain of events that eventually led to a sound filmstrip called “Very Much Alive.”

Janelle and her father, Dr. Glen Griffin, now members of the Val Verda 10th Ward (Bountiful Utah Val Verda Stake), went through the family photos and selected some good slides. These were matched with an anti-abortion story-script that Janelle and her father wrote. The resulting slide presentation, emphasizing the sanctity of human life, was used in the Career Day event at school by Dr. Griffin, a nationally-known pediatrician and author.

The slide presentation was enthusiastically applauded by students and teachers. Refinements and revisions followed. A sound track was recorded on cassette tape. Some who saw the presentation suggested that every LDS youth should see “Very Much Alive.”

After they had seen it, the Presiding Bishopric agreed. Many revisions and refinements followed, and then followed distribution in 17 languages to all the Church. As word got around, copies were purchased by other churches and by anti-abortion groups.

Now another edition of “Very Much Alive” has been prepared. Entitled “Very Much Alive—Worldwide Edition,” this filmstrip contains no mention of religion and is being used in many schools as part of their approved curriculum libraries.

Countless lives have been touched and others will yet be touched for good because of a filmstrip that had its beginning in a homework assignment to a Latter-day Saint girl in Bountiful.

Babies’ lives have been spared. Unwed parents have been influenced to make wise choices. Adoptive parents have rejoiced to have infants placed in their homes.

This was the same canal in which I was later baptized into the Church, and this is the same canal from which I hauled water to the trees and plant life about our home. I was the smallest of the boys, so I was given this work. We called the transportation a “lizard.” Did any of you ever see a “lizard”? We made it with a Y-shaped tree limb. In the center we fastened a barrel and hitched one horse to the “lizard.” I drove it to the canal, where I dipped up barrels full of canal water, then drove the horse one block to the home where I dipped out the water for the plants and flowers.
My father made a great effort to surround the new home with every kind of flower and save them in those late summer days when water was so scarce. It was also my job to drive the horses and cows to the canal for their drinking water.

As December 2021 approached, the Relief Society presidency in Peckham Ward, Wandsworth Stake, began to think about the kind of service they could give to their community. It was decided to prepare shoe boxes containing Christmas gifts.
One of the sisters, whose daughter attends a local primary school, spoke with the parent liaison officer to ascertain whether any children there could be supported in this way. It was agreed that the shoe boxes would be given to children who were from less well-off homes, as well as additional shoe boxes that would be given to siblings, even if they did not attend the school.
Within a few weeks, approximately 50 shoe boxes were beautifully wrapped and filled with gifts, including toys, hygiene items, school materials, hats, and gloves.
The element of service involved children painting small wooden-peg dolls, which were included in the shoe boxes.
There was great excitement as the children joyfully received their beautifully wrapped shoe boxes. A note from Beverley Ferguson, the school’s welfare officer, read:
“Thank you so much for the Christian charity gifts during Christmas time. The children and parents of Brunswick Park Primary School who received a gift were very grateful. ... When I asked what they thought of their presents, they said they found them very useful and helpful. Some of the children have been wearing the hats and gloves to school during the cold weather. Once again, I would like to thank you for all your help and the time that you have taken to do this for the children of the school.”

About three years ago, Sinah M., a 17-year-old young woman from North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany, faced these questions. Her answers were influenced by what had come before that moment.
“I danced all my life and was very passionate about it,” says Sinah. “I did ballet, modern dance, jazz—a bit of everything, but mostly ballet.” Dancing made her happy and was a big part of her identity. “Everything revolved around dancing,” she says.
But then she started feeling pain in her feet whenever she would dance. She felt it even when she walked, and it wouldn’t go away. She sought answers and healing through doctors, priesthood blessings, and prayer. But the cause of her pain remained a mystery, and relief from her physical suffering did not come.
“I definitely had moments where I suddenly had thoughts like, ‘Does Heavenly Father love me? Why do I have to go through this? Why does he allow it to hurt me so much?’” says Sinah.
But in spite of such thoughts, she responded to this trial with overwhelming faith and trust in the Lord.
Before facing this challenge, Sinah had already developed faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
“I’ve always been interested in the gospel,” says Sinah. She’s glad her parents taught her the gospel, took her to church, and planted within her a desire to learn about the gospel for herself.
“I’m a person who questions a lot, but I don’t despair in this questioning,” she says. “It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I actually learned that it’s OK to have questions. I allowed myself to have questions, and I prayed for knowledge and strength and that Heavenly Father would help me to build my testimony even stronger.”
Over time, she noticed that this approach had, in fact, made her testimony stronger. “I’ve always been very open to the gospel, but I also allowed myself to have questions when they came, and I sought gospel knowledge even more.”
Though her physical struggles were at times hard to deal with, Sinah’s foundation of faith prepared her to face this challenge.
“I actually told myself from the beginning that no matter how hard it is, no matter how much it hurts, no matter what I’m going through, I don’t want to blame the Lord or be angry with Him,” she says. “So I told myself I can be frustrated, I can be sad, but I don’t want that to be a reason why my testimony suddenly starts to crumble. I’d rather come out of this stronger than suddenly have doubts.”
“I told myself I can be frustrated, I can be sad, but I don’t want that to be a reason why my testimony suddenly starts to crumble.”
Sinah also decided early on that she would not go through this trial alone. Since she doesn’t dance anymore, she now finds great joy in just being together with family and friends. And she has sought comfort and counsel from her Heavenly Father as well as from parents and leaders.
For example, she says, “I’ve talked about it a lot with people on temple trips and so on, and they’ve said that questions often pop into your head—always this why. But they’ve said, ‘Father in Heaven knows that you’re strong enough to deal with it.’ And hearing that from other people is very helpful.”
She has also felt love and strength from Heavenly Father by being with other youth at FSY conferences. But perhaps more than anything, she has felt strength and peace through priesthood blessings. “With every blessing I’ve received, I’ve felt the Spirit so strongly and really noticed that Heavenly Father is really there and that He really loves me. I notice that it can’t have been said to me just by the priesthood holder, but it was really inspired.”
“Because I couldn’t dance anymore, I had to set a different center,” says Sinah. “And that is becoming more and more the gospel. Of course, it’s still hard. But I’ve simply learned to trust in the Lord much more.”
That trust means she’s able to move forward despite not having the answers or the outcome she would have liked. “The healing I was hoping for has not yet come,” says Sinah. “But I have learned even more that Heavenly Father does have a plan, that I am going through this for a reason.”
“The healing I was hoping for has not yet come. But I have learned even more that Heavenly Father does have a plan.”
Her faith also gives her perspective. “I don’t know when I might be pain-free again or if that will be the case for the rest of my life,” she says. “I don’t know, but I have faith in the Lord that at the very latest when I am back with Him, I will no longer have to be in pain and that there is somehow a reason why I am going through this.”