Gospel Story Finder

Through all these difficult experiences, I kept praying, and I could feel the comfort I was promised by the Spirit in a priesthood blessing I had received. One day I dared to ask the question, in prayer, “Why do I feel so alone?” And I received an answer or, rather, a promise—that I would make new friends, friends who would understand me.
And I did! I made new friends, some who aren’t members of the Church but who still respect and love me. I also made friends in the Church who have become like family to me.

“I was super excited when I found out the Newport Beach temple was going to have an open schedule for baptisms,” McKenna C. says. On Tuesday mornings during the summer, McKenna gathered a few friends, and together they drove along the beach to the temple. There they met with other young women from their ward who came each week to do baptisms for the dead.
A real desire to be at the temple kept the young women coming consistently throughout the summer. “There was a connection between us all as we sat there quietly next to each other, all dressed the same,” Perry N. says.
The young women began to view each other in a different way. “We saw one another as Heavenly Father’s daughters and as sisters,” McKenna says. “There was no judging. We had a greater love and understanding for all the young women.”
Each Tuesday as the friends left the temple, Elianna B. says, “We all would look at each other and smile. You can see how happy we are to be together. I feel like we are all family.”

I had never failed a class until Popularity 101. I didn’t know such a class existed or that I was even enrolled until the grades started coming in: kind of nerdy, jokes aren’t funny, uncoordinated, goofy hair, and so on.
The problem with this class is that there’s no teacher, there’s no textbook or study material, and the grading is based entirely on the opinions of your peers. In the beginning I didn’t even know what popularity was. All I knew was others had it; I did not.
The grading got tougher at age 13, when I began junior high school. Apparently, there wasn’t anything cool about me. I was becoming desperate. I was ready to do anything to be accepted. In my math class, I saw popular kids cheating on homework. Everyone was doing it. It seemed a small price to pay to be part of the group.
“Are you cheating?” asked Curtis, the student next to me.
“No,” I lied, amazed at how easily one dishonesty followed another.
I realized two things at that moment. First, “everyone’s doing it” is a poor excuse. What I was doing was wrong no matter who was doing it. Second, not “everyone’s doing it.” Curtis wasn’t cheating, and he had lots of friends.
I started watching Curtis. I tried sitting next to him when we had classes together. He didn’t swear; he didn’t cheat; he didn’t lie; he didn’t make fun of other people. This guy was straight out of the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet. I wanted to be just like him.
Then one day something amazing happened.
It was lunchtime, the worst part of the day. “Cafeteria” was just another name for “Popularity Exam Room.” As I was once again faced with choosing to sit alone or to sit with people who challenged my standards, Curtis invited me to sit with him. His friends accepted me.
I’m convinced that single act saved me. While many of those I could have hung around with passed Popularity 101, many of them are in danger of failing life—having chosen paths that led them into serious problems such as addictions to tobacco, drugs, or pornography.
Through Curtis, I learned I could have fun and keep high standards. I learned that doing what’s right is cool. And I learned a secret about popularity—it’s Satan’s counterfeit for true friendship.
There’s nothing wrong with having friends; what’s important is how we go about gaining them. Popularity 101 (the world’s way) teaches to focus on yourself and what you have to do to be accepted by others—whether it’s swearing, drinking, smoking, or in my case cheating. True friendship (the Lord’s way) teaches to focus on others, to lift them so they feel accepted by you. This is accomplished through love, kindness, sincerity, and, like Curtis, having the Spirit so others feel comfortable around you.
Curtis and his friends weren’t enrolled in Popularity 101; they were enrolled in Living the Gospel. This class has all sorts of helpful textbooks—the scriptures, Church magazines, For the Strength of Youth. Classes are offered at general conference, in seminary, and every Sunday at church. There’s a tutor who will work with you anytime—the Holy Ghost. Best of all, this class is graded by a loving Savior.
I still flunked Popularity 101. But thanks to some guys who had learned to love others as themselves, I’m now studying with the Master Teacher so I can pass life.

1. One day Tanner got a picture of Jesus. He loved the picture. He wanted to share it with somebody. He knew that not everybody knows about Jesus.
2. “Mom, can I give my picture of Jesus to somebody?” Tanner asked.
“Sure,” Mom said. “Who will you give it to?”
“I’m going to give it to my teacher, Mrs. Young. I like her because she reads me lots of stories.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mom said. “I’m proud of you.”
3. When Tanner got to preschool, he gave the picture to Mrs. Young. She was happy to get a picture of Jesus. Tanner was happy she liked it.
4. A few days later, Tanner and his family made a book that looked like the Book of Mormon golden plates. Then they wrote their testimonies in the book.
“Mom, can I take our book to school to show Mrs. Young?” Tanner asked.
“Yes, you can,” Mom said.
5. The next day at school, Tanner carried a backpack with his family’s golden plates inside. He told Mrs. Young about the book his family had made. Tanner’s teacher was very interested.
6. When Mom picked up Tanner from school that day, his teacher went to talk to Tanner’s mother.
“Tanner brought something very interesting today,” Mrs. Young said. “Can you tell me more?”
“How would you and your husband like to come to dinner at our house?” Mom asked. “We can talk more then.”
“That sounds great,” Mrs. Young said.
7. A few months later, Tanner and his mother went to Mr. and Mrs. Youngs’ baptism.
“I’m very happy I shared my picture of Jesus with my teacher,” Tanner said.
“I know that she is too,” Mom said. “You are a big reason why Mrs. Young and her husband are being baptized today.”
8. Tanner had a happy feeling as he watched Mrs. Young be baptized. He smiled as Mom leaned over and whispered, “Four-year-olds are great missionaries!”

8. Share the good times, but also share the bad. Some of the loneliest moments in life come when you have to feel crummy all by yourself. The heartaches, the all-night term papers, the unexpected expenses—all these unwelcome events are made a little more bearable when you can talk about them. I remember one Saturday evening after my roommates and I had all returned from a fireside. Suddenly, Carol was standing in the hallway with tears streaming down her cheeks. As we clustered around her, she said softly, “Sometimes don’t you just feel like crying?” We agreed, and pretty soon we were all there crying together. Thanks to a roommate who wasn’t afraid to be herself and share her emotions, our apartment grew a little closer that night.

I dragged myself into the dark bedroom, tempted to collapse onto the bed and immediately drift to sleep. My eyes seemed to weigh me down, and my feet felt like lead. I wanted to crawl under my covers, but my desire for an answer to my prayer was greater. I knew I must once again approach the Lord.
I knelt at my bedside and silently pondered the things I was about to ask my Heavenly Father. Would He really answer me this time? Did I deserve to be answered? As I felt my faith wavering, I chose to focus my attention on the countless lessons I had learned in my life, instead of on my doubts. One scripture in particular stood out to me.
“But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him” (Heb. 11:6).
I wanted to know that Joseph Smith was a real prophet. I wanted to know for myself that he truly saw Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ in the Sacred Grove. As a Latter-day Saint, I felt a strong testimony of Joseph Smith was a vital part of my foundation in the Church. I mustered all the faith I could find within my soul by focusing on the times the Lord had shown His hand in my life. I began asking Heavenly Father to help me really know what I had only believed all my life.
I knew the only way for me to receive this knowledge was by the Holy Ghost telling me it was true. I wasn’t sure I had received that type of communication. How would I know the Holy Ghost was talking to me? Would I hear a voice? Would I feel a burning in my bosom like the scriptures say? I didn’t know, but I continued to pray. I sat silently and tried to listen for the whisperings of the Spirit. I didn’t hear a voice, and I didn’t feel anything unusual. Discouraged, I crawled into bed and fell asleep, telling myself I would get my answer tomorrow night.
The obnoxious beep of my alarm clock rang in my ear at 5:30 the next morning. I reluctantly got up and started getting ready for seminary. Before I knew it, I was pulling into the church parking lot.
As I walked into my classroom, my teacher was pulling a television into the center of the room. I quickly took a seat on a cold, folding chair near the back. I had obviously missed the introduction to the video we were about to watch. However, once the movie started to play, I recognized it quickly. It was “The First Vision,” produced by the Church. I had seen it a number of times and thought I understood all there was to learn from it. But as I watched Joseph’s experience in the grove, something incredible happened to me. A powerful, peaceful feeling rested on me and I knew it was the Holy Ghost. The Spirit began to testify that what I was seeing really happened. I knew that Joseph Smith saw Heavenly Father and Jesus.
I was surprised. I was not expecting my answer to come that morning. I thought it would come while I was praying. The Spirit spoke to me, and I knew this was the answer I had been asking for. I’m very grateful for the way Heavenly Father answered my prayer. I now have a strong testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith. I know if I exercise faith by reading the scriptures and praying, I can receive personal revelation through the Holy Ghost.

My brother got married in the Mount Timpanogos Utah Temple. When we got there I wanted to go into the temple so badly, but I knew I could only go into the lobby because I was too young. When we entered the temple doors I felt warm inside. When my brother and his wife came out, I could see how happy they were. Even though I couldn’t go inside, it was still a good experience for me. I still can’t wait to go into the temple.Alyson K., age 10, Nevada

The first things I noticed among the hustling paramedics and the wailing sirens that cold January morning in Utah were Esther’s hands. Her long, strong fingers, which had always been so busy serving others, were now cramped and motionless. My own hands reached out to warm hers, and her closed eyes fluttered open briefly. She looked around as though to identify who was near her.
“It’s okay, Esther,” I said, trying to comfort her as I straightened her nightgown and covered her with a blanket. “The doctors will find out what has happened to you.” I felt Esther relax; then we were both swept into the ambulance and rushed to the nearby hospital.
To say Esther was only a neighbor is like describing the sun as only a source of light. Esther’s hands had reached out to me when I was a teenager and had led me to the treasures in my junior high school library. For more than 40 years, her hands had dispensed knowledge and service throughout the neighborhood. She had hired and patiently taught many young people how to prune and care for her orchards, how to improve the neighborhood, and how to love their neighbors. She had reached out to old and new alike, and her hands had sewn the fabric of our block into a quilt of friendship that spread far beyond its physical boundaries.
All that busy winter, I had yearned to help someone. But I knew it was a futile desire. I was working full time in a very stressful job, and I was the harried mother of five very involved and very busy children, ages 5 to 25, including two who were getting married within weeks of each other. My family, work, Church and community responsibilities had strained my capacity to do more than survive each day. But something in the depths of my being kept calling out, wanting to help someone in some way.
Many mornings, as I checked off my accomplishments of the previous day and plotted my strategy for meeting the struggles of the dawning one, I had recalled the Lord’s admonition to “not run faster or labor more than you have strength,” (see D&C 10:4), and I had thought, “Maybe tomorrow I’ll find time to take dinner to someone or to take flowers to a sick friend.”
Service, to me, was a physical object one presented as a gift: it was homemade candy or doughnuts at Christmas, freshly baked bread for a new neighbor, or outgrown clothes for needy families. Now, as I sat at Esther’s bedside on a cold wintry day, Esther taught me that service was something else.
“Esther, squeeze my hand,” the doctor coaxed. “Come on, Esther, you can squeeze my hand.”
“I’m trying,” Esther answered, but her words collapsed into themselves, and her voice trailed off. The doctor shook his head, slipping his hand from Esther’s unmoving one.
“Esther, they are going to move you to another room now,” I explained as they wheeled her bed out of the emergency room. “It’s going to be all right.” Her frightened eyes searched mine for reassurance and then closed in peace.
Surprisingly, despite my fear for Esther, I felt an unusual sense of peace. For once in my harried, over-full life, I knew that I was where I was supposed to be. I wasn’t worried about my list of Saturday chores. I wasn’t concerned about my family. They knew I was with Esther, and their prayers were with me in that cramped, bare cubicle.
Morning edged into afternoon. I called Esther’s family in another state and told them of the situation. I served as a link between the hospital, Esther, and her family members, who were trying to cope with this emergency. And I talked to Esther.
As I sat by Esther, I watched storm clouds gather and snow begin to fall. My thoughts went back 35 years to when my grandmother had had her final stroke. Others had been frightened of the silent stranger who inhabited my grandmother’s frail body, but my mother had told us to hold her hand, to stroke it, and to talk to her.
“I think she can hear you, even if she can’t communicate,” my mother had said. “She needs to hear and feel your love. Talk to her, touch her, and let her know you love her.”
I hadn’t thought of my mother’s words for many years, but they came back as I talked to Esther, stroked her immobile hands, and filled the tiny room with my whispered prayers.
Too soon the room was crowded with Esther’s family, and I eased out of their way as they gathered around her. When they reached out to caress her still hands, stroke her hair, and talk to her, the urgent need that had held me captive all morning disappeared.
“She’s slipped into a deep coma,” the nurse explained to Esther’s loved ones. “Earlier she was trying to communicate, but now she’s unconscious and unaware.”
I stood at the doorway and took one last look at Esther’s inert hands. They were more relaxed now, but they remained open and reaching out to others. I dashed tears of appreciation from my eyes and thanked Esther for her last gift to me.

Constancy #4: Develop and live within a budget. A friend of mine has a daughter who went overseas with a BYU study-abroad program for a semester. She was constantly writing home for more money. His concern was such that he called her long-distance and questioned her about the need for the additional funds. At one point in the conversation the daughter explained, “But dad, I can tell you where every penny you have sent me has been spent.”
He replied, “You don’t seem to get the point. I’m interested in a budget—a plan for spending—not in a diary of where the money has gone.”

Years ago, our family attended a fair. We enjoyed the rides until it got dark. On our way to the car to go home, I put my hand in my pocket and realized that the keys to the car, the house, and my office were gone!

The fairgrounds were full of people, but we found a quiet spot (as quiet as you can find during a busy fair) and stood together to pray that the keys would be found. We then walked through the fair and looked for the missing keys.

As we moved along, we saw a policeman. We thought that maybe someone had found our keys and delivered them to him. We approached the policeman and asked, “We’ve lost our keys. Do you happen to have them?”

He asked if we were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. A bit confused by that question, I answered, “Yes.”

The policeman then asked me to describe the keys. I did so, and he told me that he had them.

“Why did you ask if we were members of the Church?” I asked as he handed me the keys.

“Because you have a vial of oil on your keychain,” he said. “My father has one just like it. He is a member of your church.”

Experiences like this have blessed our family to trust Heavenly Father and to know that the Savior is with us and will help us.

Millions of people around the world watched on television as the first humans walked on the moon. My dad was one of them. Suddenly, at only age seven, he knew what he wanted to do with his life.
When he learned that many astronauts started out as fighter pilots, he decided right then what he wanted to focus on in school—aerospace engineering. He eventually became a fighter pilot in the United States Navy with the dream of becoming an astronaut.
Even with the best-laid plans, things don’t always turn out the way we think they will. My dad’s life didn’t. He never became an astronaut, but he’d be the first to tell you that the Lord guided him to what was best for him and our family.

Far to the south, in Sicily, Rosario Virgillito and his wife-to-be both faced opposition from their families when they joined the Church in 1984. Because a big church wedding is a strong tradition in Sicily, their families were puzzled and hurt that Rosario and his sweetheart wanted to be married instead in something called a temple, in faraway Switzerland. But the couple did what they knew was right. Rosario serves now as elders quorum president in the Catania Branch of the Italy Catania Mission. As a pioneer in his family, he knows his example will be crucial. “I can’t make a mistake, because my family watches me closely.”

I remember hearing one such story when I was a young man. It was about President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985), and I had heard it so many times that I figured I could probably tell it in my sleep.
One stormy night, President Kimball saw a pregnant young mother and her two-year-old daughter in an airport. The mother couldn’t pick up her child because of the threat of miscarriage, so she scooted the sobbing child along with her foot.
Grumpy passengers looked at her judgmentally and said unkind things under their breath, but President Kimball immediately offered to help.
With the mother’s permission, he picked up and consoled the child and gave the girl a piece of gum. Then he kindly spoke to those in line and asked if the young mother could move to the front. The once-grumbling passengers immediately agreed. He spoke with the clerk and got them on the next available flight, ensuring them a safe and much faster trip home.

One day, my friends and I bought drinks for lunch. My friends bought iced tea, and I bought juice. Noticing this, they started calling me the odd one out. But I felt good that I didn’t give into the temptation to let down my standards. Now, my friends respect me for standing up for what I believe. I’m thankful for the Word of Wisdom that helps me keep my body strong and healthy.
Alejandria F., 18, Philippines

“Tonight for our family home evening activity, we’re going to weed Sister Lee’s garden,” Dad announced at dinner.
Preston liked going to Sister Lee’s house. She had chickens and roosters and yummy berries growing in her garden.
After dinner Preston helped his family load shovels and rakes in the back of the van.
On the drive to Sister Lee’s house, Mom asked, “Why is service so important?”
Preston thought for a moment. He wasn’t quite sure.
“It makes you feel good,” Preston’s older brother said.
“That’s true,” Mom said. “Any other ideas? Does anyone remember the scripture we just memorized together? ‘When ye are in the service of your fellow beings …’”
The rest of the family joined in. “‘Ye are only in the service of your God’” (Mosiah 2:17).
“That’s right,” Mom said. “It’s from King Benjamin’s speech to his people. Preston, can you think of any other reasons why we serve?”
Preston thought of the comic book he had read that morning, the one about the boy dressed in a cape, saving the world. Superheroes did good things for other people. “Serving is like being a superhero!” he said.
Dad smiled. “You’re right. It is like being a superhero. You’re saving the day when you serve.”
They arrived at Sister Lee’s house. Preston liked the idea of being a superhero. He flew out of the car, grabbed a pair of gloves, and super-sprinted toward the garden.
First Sister Lee showed everyone the new baby chicks. Then the family got to work. There were hundreds and hundreds of weeds. They were the biggest weeds Preston had ever seen!
He imagined those weeds as evil forces, attacking the innocent tomato plants. Using his super strength, it was easy to pull the weeds out of the ground. He could feel his muscles getting stronger as he shook the dirt loose from the roots and threw the weeds in a pile.
Some of the weeds were too tough to pull by hand. Preston pulled out his super-power shovel, the one with the red blade. He jumped on the back with both his feet. The blade sunk deep into the dirt, and weeds came out even faster. The pile of pulled weeds grew until it was almost as tall as Preston!
Finally Sister Lee said, “That’s great! Come pick some berries, and then we’ll have a treat.”
Preston’s superhero strength was almost gone. With the last of his energy, he helped pick gooseberries, raspberries, and currants. Then Sister Lee brought out three different ice-cream flavors. Preston chose chocolate.
They were tired, but Preston felt good inside.
“Thank you so much for your service,” Sister Lee said. “You did in one hour what would have taken me a whole week.”
Preston smiled and licked his ice-cream cone.
Having super powers not only felt great. It tasted great too!

Not long ago, we invited two sister missionaries over for lunch. After we finished eating, we asked them to leave a spiritual thought with us. They were well prepared and introduced a scripture reading and marking exercise to us. They had brought a fresh copy of the Book of Mormon and a set of colored pencils. We accepted the invitation of the missionaries. Since then, our daily Book of Mormon family scripture reading has changed. In every chapter, we mark with different colors the passages related to Jesus Christ as we discover them. Every time, this little exercise reminds us of our missionaries.
When the missionaries presented this, we immediately recognized it as a scripture study exercise suggested in Preach My Gospel. As a family, we are so thankful for this great and powerful missionary tool.

“Do you believe in God?”
“Yes,” I stammered. I couldn’t believe it. Here I was sitting in front of four of my best friends and my high school biology teacher, and not one of them believed in God.
“But what about evolution?” my friends asked.
My biology teacher, who had a reputation for being stubborn and persistent, turned his head momentarily from his papers and said: “Now, let’s be logical here. Look at the facts. Where does the evidence point?”
I was tongue-tied. I have known the Church is true since I was very young. I felt it was true. However, at the same time, logic and reason were driving forces in my life.
As I sat there, trying to come up with an answer to their questions, the awkward silence gave them satisfaction. They thought I had hit a dead end in my reasoning, as they expected I would. Thinking of no arguments to counter their position, I silently said a quick prayer, pleading with God to direct my words toward these five people. Within seconds a thought crossed my mind: “It is not you who converts, but the Spirit.”
Upon hearing those simple words, I began to share my testimony with my friends. I said, “I know there is a God, and He has a Son who created the world and saved us all. Whether or not we have all the answers now doesn’t discredit the fact that there is a God. God works line upon line and precept upon precept. Until we prove our faith, God will not reveal more to us.” I finished by confirming my testimony of the Church and its leaders, forgetting to even address the original questions posed.
After I finished, they all sat in silence, staring at me. I could feel my face getting hot. Just then, the bell rang. I grabbed my bag, thankful for this escape route, and headed for the door. As I opened the door, my biology teacher swung his chair around and called my name.
I turned, anticipating a rebuttal and, to my shock, found a sincere face staring back at me. “Thank you,” he said.
My simple testimony had conveyed more convincing truth than any logical debate could have. I know that I did not dissolve their accusations and criticisms that day, but the Holy Spirit did.

“Mom, guess what?” Nathan said as he climbed into the car after church. “The Primary president asked me to give a talk in Primary next Sunday.”
“Great!” Mom exclaimed. “What are you supposed to talk about?”
“I’m supposed to talk about all the blessings that I have from being a member of the Church.”
“Well, I think that you can give a talk about that. First, you should think about all the things that you are thankful for; then we can write them down on a blessings list,” Mom said.
“Mom,” said Nathan, “I want to be able to give my talk all by myself, with no one helping me this time, just like the big kids do.”
“OK, we’ll work on it,” Mom said encouragingly. “You keep thinking about the things that you’re grateful for.”
During the week, Nathan told his mom the things that he thought should be on his blessings list and Mom wrote them down. Every night before he went to bed, he and Mom sat down with the list and he tried to memorize it. But try as he might, he just couldn’t remember it all.
When Saturday morning came, Nathan was worried. “Mom, I still can’t remember my talk. What am I going to do?”
“Maybe if we say a prayer together, Heavenly Father will give us an idea.”
They knelt in the living room, and Nathan thanked Heavenly Father for all the things on his blessings list. Then he asked Him for help to find a way to give his talk all by himself.
After the prayer, Nathan and Mom sat quietly to listen for Heavenly Father’s answer.
Nathan’s mom jumped up. “I think that Heavenly Father gave me an answer. You sit right here, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Nathan sat very still, anxiously awaiting her return. When she came back, she had a big smile on her face and she was holding a big piece of paper. “Here are your talk ‘notes.’ Do you think you can read it all by yourself now?”
Nathan looked down at the paper. This is what he saw:
I am happy to be a member of the Church. I get blessings from Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father. The blessings are: my family, food, sunshine, my home, flowers, and my teachers. I am happy I can give my talk all by myself. I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
“When you see the pictures, say their names,” Mom explained. “You know the word my. The cloud with the sunlight coming through it stands for blessings, and you’ve already memorized the first part and the last two sentences. Do you think that you can give your talk now?”
On Sunday Mom and Dad came to listen to Nathan give his talk. He gave it perfectly. But before he said the last sentence, he looked up from his notes and said, “And I’m glad that Heavenly Father answers our prayers.”

In the spirit of the thought in that verse, I determined a few years ago that I would no longer put off a visit with a dear friend whom I hadn’t seen for many years. I had been meaning to visit him in California but just had not gotten around to it.
Bob Biggers and I met when we were both in the Classification Division at the United States Naval Training Center in San Diego, California, toward the close of World War II. We were good friends from the beginning. He visited Salt Lake once before he married, and we remained friends through correspondence from the time I was discharged in 1946. My wife, Frances, and I exchanged Christmas cards every year with Bob and his wife, Grace.
Finally, at the beginning of January 2002, I was scheduled to visit a stake conference in Whittier, California, where the Biggers live. I telephoned my friend Bob, now 80 years old, and arranged for Frances and me to meet him and Grace, that we might reminisce concerning former days.
We had a delightful visit. I took with me a number of photographs which had been taken when we were in the navy together over 55 years earlier. We identified the men we knew and provided each other an update on their whereabouts as best we could. Although not a member of our Church, Bob remembered going to a sacrament meeting with me those long years before when we were stationed in San Diego.
As Frances and I said our good-byes to Bob and Grace, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace and joy at having finally made the effort to see once again a friend who had been cherished from afar throughout the years.

I want to tell you how I am trying to be like Jesus Christ. I moved from Utah to Pacific Grove, California. My teacher gave me an assignment to make a montage about myself. My mom and I decided to make part of the montage about the Church. I am the only member of the Church in the fifth grade at my new school.
Making the montage answered a lot of questions, like why I don’t play on Sunday, why I don’t swear, and what my gospel standards are. I hope I can be more like Jesus.