Gospel Story Finder

I remember an adjudicated gang member that was in the program I oversaw; I’ll call him John. I witnessed when John realized that he could choose to be respectful and kind. After experiencing sheer terror while trying to climb a rock face, the work of wholesome recreation gave him the courage to see the needs of others, to seek to understand them, and to support his peers through the same paralyzing fear. He told me he wanted a better life and recognized, after that moment, that his life would change.

How blessed we are to have a living prophet in these last days. What a life-stirring compass is the First Presidency Message by President Gordon B. Hinckley in the May 1999 Liahona (English). This message, “Life’s Obligations,” is so rich and touching. It has strengthened my testimony of the living prophet of God. I spend time every day reading portions of this message.
On one occasion, I went to a restaurant and took this message with me. One of my clients asked to read it. After reading it, he asked for a copy of it. This man confessed that the message is “inspired and really applies to present-day life.”
Attah Frederick,Bauchi Branch, Jos Nigeria District

by Kent Howcroft
Like most priests quorums, the priests of the American Fork 25th Ward, American Fork Utah North Stake, like to have fun on a super activity each summer. This year we decided to expand the activity to include a service project as well. And it turned out that the service project was the highlight of the trip!
We covered a need for help in constructing a prefabricated building in Many Farms, Arizona, a town of 5,000 in the Four Corners area where the borders of Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado meet. Many Farms is on the Navajo Indian Reservation.
The first night of our activity, a recently returned missionary shared some of his experiences with us in a fireside. He had seen the Spirit touch the lives of people in Argentina, and his testimony touched us. One of our priests said he felt more than ever that he wanted to prepare for a mission.
The next morning we had a rafting competition in a nearby reservoir and went swimming to cool off. Then it was off to Many Farms, where we met the full-time missionaries working in the area. Our priests got to see firsthand what life in the mission field is like. They had an opportunity to work with the missionaries and to hear the conversion story of Elder Powell, a missionary from New York.
Then we started work on the building. As leaders, we had been concerned that the desert heat might make conditions unbearable. But we were blessed with rain and cool, cloudy weather, and we were able to finish the project on time. The work went quickly, and we all enjoyed doing something to help someone else. It was a super activity we will never forget.

Illustration by Bradley H. Clark
“Hey, guys! Come back!” a frantic voice called out.
I turned to notice two boys about five and seven years old running through the store parking lot with tears streaming down their faces. The salesman looked concerned as he called to them.
As I turned back toward my car, the Spirit whispered, “You can be of help here.” The whisper was quiet yet so clear that a moment later I was running through the parking lot toward the boys.
I found the older one standing by a brown minivan. I approached and knelt beside him.
“Hi. My name is Christina. Are you OK?”
At my words, he cried harder and hid his face in his arm. The salesman and the other boy joined us.
“I think they only speak French,” the salesman told me. “We just found them running through the store, lost.”
I repeated my introduction to the children in French. French was my first language, but I hadn’t spoken it since I was adopted into an English-speaking family as a small child. Normally, my French is poor. At that moment though, it was neither clumsy nor stilted. The words were clear in my mind and my voice as I comforted the boys.
Between sobs, the older boy explained in a quick torrent of words that he and his brother could not find their parents anywhere in the store and had run outside looking for them. As I listened, I became vaguely aware of how amazing it was that I was not only conversing freely in French but also readily understanding and consoling two frightened children.
“They’ve lost their parents and want to wait for them here at their car,” I told the salesman. The little boy told me the names of his parents, which I gave to the salesman so he could page them. A few minutes later the boy spotted his father coming out of the store and ran to meet him.
As I followed the boy to his father, I found that I could no longer manage even a good-bye in French. I tried in vain to say anything the boys could understand, but I could say nothing more than a few random words. Finally, I resorted to English, saying to the boy, “Bye. It was nice to meet you.”
As I left the boys with their parents, I was full of gratitude. Heavenly Father had worked through me to comfort two of His little ones. I was humbled that the Lord could magnify my limited abilities to fulfill His purposes. I was grateful to witness what can happen as we offer ourselves to Him when called upon, even in the most unlikely of settings.

I was standing outside the chapel waiting for church to begin when he walked up to me, called me by name, and asked, “Do you know why I’m here?”
His pointed query caught me by surprise. Who is this guy? He looks familiar, but I sure don’t know him. And why should I know why he’s here? “No,” I answered, feeling a little awkward.
“I’m here because of you,” he said bluntly.
That got my attention. Though there was a vague familiarity, I couldn’t remember ever meeting him before. I had no idea who he was, yet he was standing there saying he was at church because of me.
My face must have revealed my incredulity. “We have the same gym class at college,” he explained, “and I’ve been watching you.”
Watching me? What does he mean by that?
“I noticed right off that you were different,” he continued. “You never swear. You don’t lose your temper. You don’t smoke. You never tell dirty jokes or even listen to them. You don’t get involved in all the filthy talk that goes on. I really admire you. You’re exactly the kind of person I want to be,” he said. “So I started asking around about you. I found out your name, that you’re a Mormon, and that this is where you go to church. That’s why I’m here.”
There are probably a dozen words I could use to describe how I felt at that moment. I just tried to live the way I’d always been taught, and I probably hadn’t done that especially well. I was preparing to go on a mission, but I certainly wasn’t perfect. And he’d been watching me. That was the scary part. Had I done anything I should be ashamed of? I hoped not.
He stayed for church, and over the next few weeks he took the missionary lessons and was baptized. A year later, just before I left on my mission, he left on his. He served faithfully, returned, and was married in the temple. He is one of the happiest and most peaceful persons I know.
I take no credit for his conversion. I was just trying to live the standards I’d always been taught and believed were right. It wasn’t really me he was watching—it was those standards.
Today, every time I read the Savior’s admonition to “let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matt. 5:16), I remember the day a stranger walked up to me and said, “I’m here because of you.”

I remember about forty-six years ago when I was entering my first city of labor in southern Brazil. We were riding the streetcar from the center of town, and our companions were showing us the way to our residence. In those days all of the men in Brazil wore hats. So we were told, “When you see the men take their hats off the second time, you are to get off at the next stop.” What that meant was that the streetcar passed two churches. As it passed the churches, the men, out of respect, would lift their hats. What a lesson they taught! It ought to be a lesson to all of us to appreciate and understand other people.

One day Michelle and I visited a ward while we were on vacation, and we chose to attend a youth Sunday School class that was being taught by two young men who both had mission calls.

One of the young men described to the younger youth in the class the process he had just gone through to apply for his mission by visiting with his bishop and stake president. He described the results of his Christ-centered repentance in this way: “I felt lighter; I felt like myself again.”

Repentance truly is “a joyful choice”22 that is made possible by our Master, Redeemer, Exemplar, Teacher, and Savior.

How in the world was I going to get out of this? I was 16 years old and had my first job in the food court of a local grocery store. Pretty safe job—or so I thought—until my boss asked me to dress up as a corn dog to promote a sale we were having. A corn dog!
Next thing I knew, I was in a costume walking around the store with a basketful of candy. I couldn’t hold the basket with two hands because the corn dog suit was so huge my arms couldn’t reach around to the front. Not only that, when kids would run up to the giant corn dog to get some candy, I couldn’t look down to see how many pieces of candy they were taking. I think they caught on quickly.
I was under strict orders not to talk while in this horrible costume. So when people asked if I was a banana, I couldn’t say anything to correct them. I came up with a solution. I put a nice big sign on my front stating, “I am a corn dog!” I was already beyond humiliation. At least no one could see my face.
Around the store I walked. I’m sure the kids thought I was pretty strange—a giant, silent, walking corn dog with an empty basket. But hey, I wasn’t a banana, so it could have been worse.
Then came the cruel laughter and the jabbing kicks from behind. I turned around and saw no one.
Kick! I turned around again. No one.
Kick! Kick! I whirled around as quickly as a corn dog could manage. No one again. Now the laughter was hysterical. Kick! Kick! Kick! Why was no one coming to rescue a poor, persecuted corn dog! Couldn’t they see the kids torturing me? I was miserable. I had to get out of there! So I waddled as quickly as I could back to the food court.
It was then that I saw him. A guy I liked was standing at the counter of the food court. I could hear him asking for me. No!
Then I saw my fellow employee, a girl who I thought was my friend, point in my direction. I turned around as quickly as I could and waddled back to where I had been so rudely kicked. Somehow that seemed so much better than being approached by the guy I liked and had tried so hard to impress. I moved as quickly as I could, cutting through the aisle and making my way back to the food court from the other direction. I had to get out of this thing. Just a few more waddles and I would be there.
I struggled to pull the giant corn dog off of my body. I was so completely miserable, so completely humiliated. I couldn’t go out there again.
How long had I been in the corn dog costume? An hour? Two hours? Three? I looked at the clock. Twenty minutes! How could so much misery, so much humiliation, so much horror fit into just 20 minutes?
I saw my boss approaching me. I pleaded with her to let me be finished. Couldn’t she see how tortured I was? She informed me that if I could find a replacement then I was off the hook. Who in their right mind would actually want to do this? But it was my only hope. I had to at least ask.
I approached the girl who had previously blown my cover. I tried to act like it hadn’t been that bad. I thought if she knew what she was getting into, she’d never agree. But she did. “It’ll be fun,” she told me.
“She won’t last long,” I thought.
Three hours later, she came back smiling. I couldn’t believe it. She actually enjoyed being a corn dog. I didn’t think it was possible.
I learned something valuable that day. I learned that we can choose to be happy, or we can choose to be unhappy. We were in the same situation, and she chose to enjoy it. I could have done that too. I could have laughed along with everyone else. I could have seen the humor in the situation and had an enjoyable time. Instead I chose to be miserable.
It’s the same thing with life. Our circumstances don’t choose for us. We choose. Even in the midst of challenging school assignments, lack of friends, chronic illness, or parents divorcing, we can choose to turn to Heavenly Father and discover that we can still find peace, even joy, in this life. I learned that day that choosing to be cheerful is much more enjoyable, even for a corn dog.

Elsa Jacobsen had a problem. After years of working hard in school and excelling in the classroom, on the student council, and in the ballet studio, she had created a situation for herself that she didn’t quite know how to handle. Several top universities, including Stanford University located near Palo Alto, California, were vying to have Elsa as a student. All were great schools, some were offering attractive scholarship packages, and any of them would provide lots of great learning opportunities.
“I finally narrowed it down,” says 18-year-old Elsa, “and after a lot of fasting and prayer I received a peaceful confirmation about coming to Stanford. From the time I arrived here, I knew why. I love it here.”
Everyone should be so lucky to have problems like that, right? But whether you’re an ace student or you’re praying that the local junior college will look past your grade point average and concentrate on your potential, the decisions you make about your education will affect the rest of your life.
Once you arrive there will be even more decisions to make: What will you major in? Whom will you be friends with? Whom will you date? It’s a huge change, and it can be a little overwhelming. But Elsa and her Stanford classmates have come up with several great ideas for establishing a great after-high-school life that will work whether you’re headed for the Ivy League or Hometown U. Here are some of their stories:
Dustin Matsumori, a Stanford freshman from Murray, Utah, faced a dilemma similar to Elsa’s. He knew he was going to go to college, but where? And why? So Dustin started doing what any good student would do—his homework. He considered cost, class sizes, majors offered, and the student population at each school on his list.
“I came to visit Stanford with my parents and was really impressed with the beautiful campus and the great weather,” says Dustin. “Then the tour guide started giving us the stats about Supreme Court justices and Nobel laureates and other impressive people who have graduated from Stanford.”
Dustin was excited by the prospect of being able to go to a school that had such an awesome reputation. But he wasn’t ready to sign on the dotted line just yet. Something was still missing.
“When I was getting information about Stanford, I found out that the Latter-day Saint Student Association [LDSSA] hosted a seminar each Friday at lunchtime. When I walked into that room with the other LDS students, I felt right at home. It was then that I knew I could go away from home and have wonderful educational experiences and still strengthen my testimony.”
Andy Walburger is a returned missionary who plays on the Stanford water polo team. Being able to play for the team was a big factor in his decision to go to Stanford, but it wasn’t the only one.
“I love the LDS community here at Stanford,” he says. “I think relationships are a very important part of a college education. In fact, a big part of what you learn at college happens outside the classroom, so you want to make sure that it will be a good atmosphere. Having LDS friends here has made all the difference for me. After all, staying at home by yourself every Friday night isn’t a lot of fun.”
Holly Goodliffe, a freshman from Salt Lake City, says that although she was thrilled to be at college, there was some uncertainty as she faced her first days in a world where her parents weren’t nearby.
“I think that being away from home for the first time has really helped me appreciate the gospel more than ever before,” says Holly. “I feel like I have a solid foundation. Also, I know I can rely on my other LDS friends. We sort of look out for each other. If someone’s not at church, we let them know we missed them.”
Mark Madsen led the Stanford basketball team to the NCAA Final Four last year. He is a tenacious and aggressive player, and it would be easy to assume that basketball is the only thing that matters to such an impressive athlete. But Mark, who served a mission in Spain, says that it’s church, not sports, that gives him the anchor he needs in his life.
“Going to church at the student ward is a huge relief for me, especially after a road trip with the team,” says Mark. “After a few days in a strange city playing against tough guys, it’s nice to come and sing the opening hymn and be with my ward family. I love Sundays.”
Even though LDSSA is just one of several religious, academic, and professional groups on campus, the LDS students say they think it is one of Stanford’s most noticed groups. Their numbers may be small—less than 100 of the 7,000 undergraduate students are LDS—but their impact is felt in almost every dorm, classroom, and organization. These guys are involved with a capital “I.”
In addition to the athletic pursuits of Mark and Andy and their LDS teammates, there are LDS athletes in gymnastics, synchronized swimming, and crew just to name a few. Emily Andrus, an LDS student from Salt Lake City, just finished a year in office as student body president. This year another LDS student, Maren Norton, took her place. One LDS student leads daily campus tours. Several are in musical, dance, and performing groups. And at nearly every rally, game, performance, or debate, there is a small but vocal cheering section of LDS students.
“I’m always running in several different directions at once,” says Emily. “But my LDS friends watch out for me. I’m well taken care of.”
That involvement and the support network that comes along with it make it easy for all the LDS students to let their gospel light shine. In every group and on every team, people notice that the Mormon kids seem to have their own fan club, which leads to questions about the gospel. Lisa Arrington, a recent convert to the Church, became interested in the gospel because she was friends with Mark. She wanted to know more about the friends that seemed to always surround him and why they always seemed so happy. Now Mark isn’t just her friend; he’s also her home teacher.
But it isn’t just high-profile activities that bring missionary opportunities. Dustin’s friends noticed he didn’t drink. They asked questions, and soon Dustin was sharing the Book of Mormon and For the Strength of Youth pamphlets with the guys on his floor. Holly’s roommate, a Christian, noticed that Holly read her scriptures daily just as she did. She wanted to know more about Holly’s beliefs, and now they occasionally study the Bible together.
Meghann Evershed, a sophomore, jogs a few times a week with her friend Matt Blythe. While they jog, they often talk about the gospel.
“I really enjoy discussing religion with Meghann because she’s very clear,” says Matt. “She seems to have all the answers. It’s cool to understand her beliefs.”
Four years seems like a long time, but time flies when you’re having fun, and these students are definitely doing that. It’s the kind of fun that comes from working hard, playing hard, and loving and living the gospel. It’s the kind of fun that anyone, no matter where they go to school, can have if they want to.
So maybe you didn’t get a perfect score on the SAT, and the thought of college algebra makes you break out into a cold sweat. Just remember that whether you’re trying to decide between several schools or just hoping that one will take pity and let you in, every problem has a solution. Especially when you have the gospel to guide you and good LDS friends to help you find your way.
It’s a simple concept—one that will make you look very smart no matter where you go to school.
Here are some things that make the Stanford LDSSA great. Keep them in mind when you’re choosing a college—your bishop can tell you if there’s an institute program at the school you choose. Or if you choose a school without an LDSSA, maybe you could team up with other LDS students or young adults in the area and help implement some of the following ideas when you arrive:
All incoming freshmen receive a welcome letter and a packet of information about where the student ward meets, where institute classes are held, and how to get involved.
Stanford students stay connected via e-mail. If there’s an activity or an event, it’s easy to let everyone know.
Helping the community is a great way to build friendships. Stanford students have developed a tutoring program that allows them to help struggling elementary, junior high, and high school students succeed.
Stanford students use the buddy system. Each incoming freshman is assigned a “big brother” or “big sister,” an upperclassman who can show them the ropes.
Institute classes not only provide a spiritual dimension to education; it’s also a great break from other studies and a good way to see friends. Stanford students make every effort to schedule their other classes so they can attend.

I go to a ward where we speak Spanish. One day Mia came to my Primary class. She speaks only English. I wanted to help Mia feel welcome, so I decided to help her. I would be her interpreter!
Lots in Common
We both just got baptized and confirmed. We both like music, especially hymns and Primary songs. We both like family home evening. And both of us like to read stories in the Friend and the Liahona.
Keeping Up
At first it was hard to keep up when I was interpreting for Mia. Then the teachers slowed down to give me time. We all felt good that we could help Mia.

When I was Relief Society president for the Luton Ward, I encouraged the ward to collect clothes and other goods for asylum seekers and refugees. I took the goods to the county of Hertfordshire and gave them to refugees there. I started feeling a bit guilty about this, because I was taking donations from ward members into a different county when I knew that Luton itself had a massive population of refugees and asylum seekers that needed help.
I decided to find out who was working with asylum seekers and refugees in Luton so we could give them the goods the ward collected. I attended a National Churches Together meeting and asked. They told me that Care4Calais and another church or two, were helping. I contacted Care4Calais and I also found out how to apply to Churches Together in Luton. A week or so later, I heard back from Churches Together and they told me my application was rejected. I felt so upset. All I wanted to do was help whoever was helping asylum seekers and refugees. So, I phoned the director of Churches Together in Luton and explained to her how shocked and saddened I was. She relented and gave me the number of the Reverend of All Saints and St. Peter’s Church, the main church in Luton helping and supporting the large population of asylum seekers there.
I contacted Reverend David Kesterton and set up a meeting with him. We asked about his church and what they were doing to help, and how our church could multiply their efforts in the work they were already engaged in. At first, he was very hesitant, because he feared we would go in proselyting. We assured him we would not and he agreed to work with us.
We started meeting with the Reverend and put together a proposal to the church to secure some funding. All Saints was opening their doors to asylum seekers twice a week for drop-in sessions where an individual could get a cup of coffee and cake, needed clothing, as well as advice, ESOL support, someone to listen to them, or just an entertaining round of chess to break up the monotony that they feel. They had recently run out of funding. The Church agreed to give £15,000 to provide much needed warm clothing and toiletries as well as vouchers for underwear, school uniform and shoes. We were all thrilled.
To kick off the project, we invited the Reverend to come and speak in the Luton Ward during the second hour of a fifth Sunday meeting. He talked about the support he and his church were giving and how we could be of help. Members of the Luton Ward were encouraged to start volunteering at the drop-in sessions. The youth planned an activity to sort out their overflowing and disorganised toy cupboard, as well as purchasing needed toiletries from local supermarkets for asylum seekers. The Reverend was amazed to see all the youth there bringing toiletries, and even more amazed that the leaders had made purchasing toiletries a competition for the youth. One ward member even volunteered to be Father Christmas for their drop-in session right before the holidays.
We are now coming to the end of this lovely project. A wonderful relationship has developed between the Luton Ward and All Saints and St. Peter’s Church, and I think the Reverend has changed some of his old opinions of us as members of the Church and is more willing to work with us and see our commonalities. He has been very grateful for our help.

Susan: The early years of the Brigham Young Academy were fraught with challenges, including financial hardships, and the prophet who had had the vision for this school had passed away. Brigham Young’s daughter Zina, an early graduate of the academy who later became a faculty member and the first dean of women, was very anxious about the success of the academy. She traveled to Salt Lake City to pour out her school worries to President John Taylor.

He lovingly took her into his private library and said:
My dear child, I have something of importance to tell you that I know will make you happy. I have been visited by your father. He came to me in the silence of the night clothed in brightness and, with a face beaming with love and confidence, told me . . . that the school being taught by Brother Maeser was accepted in the heavens and was a part of the great plan of life and salvation; that Church schools should be fostered for the good of Zion’s children . . . , for they would need the support of this knowledge and testimony of the gospel, and there was a bright future in store for the preparing . . . the children of the covenant for future usefulness in the kingdom of God; and that Christ Himself was directing and had a care over this school.62

Each time I hear this beautiful story, it thrills my heart. Think of it! Jesus Christ Himself has a care over this school. And why? Because it is a place where the children of the covenant are being prepared for future usefulness in the kingdom of God. I wish that every student and all others who walk this campus would keep the words “Christ Himself has a care over this school” running through their minds. I think it would inspire gratitude for the opportunity to study in a place that is cared for by Christ Himself and would prompt them to ask themselves: “What is my role and responsibility in helping this school reach its destiny? What can I do to live up to the privilege of being here? And how can I fulfill the dream of BYU?”

The privilege and opportunity to magnify our callings may come in unexpected ways. When I was a deacon, I remember sitting on the front row of benches in the chapel, along with the other deacons, as the priests prepared to bless the sacrament. One of the priests, whose name was Leland, had a “golden” voice. When he offered the prayer at the sacrament table, the words were clearly pronounced and beautifully spoken. Many would compliment him as the meeting concluded. I think he became a bit proud.
Another priest, named John, sat with Leland one day. John had a hearing impairment and an accompanying speech problem. His words were somewhat difficult to understand. Often we deacons would quietly laugh among ourselves when John prayed.
The bread was broken, the hymn was sung. All bowed their heads as Leland prepared to pray. We heard no words spoken. The silence seemed eternal. I opened my eyes and saw Leland looking frantically for the small card on which the words of the prayer were printed. It was nowhere to be found. Others began to open their eyes and raise their heads questioningly.
Just then, John, who had the hearing and speaking problems, reached forth, gently guided Leland to one side, knelt down and, from memory, spoke the words of that familiar prayer: “O God, the Eternal Father, we ask thee in the name of thy Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this bread to the souls of all those who partake of it …” (Moro. 4:3). He never missed a word.
As we left the chapel that day, Leland said to John, “I thank you very sincerely for helping me today.”
John responded, “We are both priests in the same quorum doing our duty.”

Several years ago, after hearing a young woman in our ward recite “The Living Christ,”1 I decided I would memorize it too. I took a small copy of the document with me as I ran in the early mornings. Because I was alone and distractions were minimal, this was an ideal opportunity for me to think. After several months of this, I was in great physical shape—and I had met my memorization goal.
As good as “finishing” felt, the long-term benefits were even better. I found myself thinking more often about Jesus Christ, His life, and His mission and wanting to be more like Him. I treated my husband and our children with more patience and love. I found greater peace and happiness in all that I did. And I felt greater joy in caring for and loving those around me. Then, like Lehi, who partook of the fruit of the tree of life, I wanted my family to experience what I had (see 1 Nephi 8:12).
I began seeking for ways that I could teach “The Living Christ” to our children. I recognized that they were young (our oldest was 11) and that this precious document was rather lengthy. But I had a desire, and after I prayed and thought about it often, the Spirit showed me how I could teach my family.
I had long collected pictures cut out of old Church magazines. I went to the box where I kept them and started pulling out pictures that seemed to match the different phrases in “The Living Christ.” For instance, for “He was the Great Jehovah of the Old Testament,” I found a picture of Christ, as Jehovah, talking with Moses. For the next phrase, “Under the direction of His Father,” I found a picture of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ standing together. Within a short time, I had gathered many pictures and paired them with their associated text from “The Living Christ.”
December seemed the perfect time for our family to start focusing on “The Living Christ.” Our children were excited and really got into our endeavor. We posted the pictures we were working on in our kitchen. I noticed that during the day, the kids would say the phrases as they passed by the pictures. When everyone had memorized the set of pictures on the wall, we put them away and started working on a new set.
With each picture, we discussed the gospel and life of Jesus Christ. Our family home evening lessons were filled with stories and lessons about the Savior. My husband taught some of the concepts in “The Living Christ,” bringing new insights.
Family prayers became more meaningful because the children gave more thought to Him in whose name they were praying. The Spirit filled our home. We felt like Nephi when he wrote, “We talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ” (2 Nephi 25:26). Our home became a place of greater peace.
The blessings poured in, in ways I had never imagined. For instance, although I had tried simplifying some of the words for our youngest child, Joseph, who was four, he persisted in learning the complete document word for word. This became particularly poignant one week at church. The cover of the sacrament meeting program featured a picture of the Savior in Gethsemane that we had used in our memorization. Joseph pointed to the picture and said, “Look, Mommy. ‘He gave His life to atone for the sins of all mankind.’”
Another week we had a rough time at church; the children were more restless than they should have been, especially during the sacrament. The next night we talked about the sacrament in family home evening. We discussed its purpose and how we should behave as the sacrament is being passed. I asked the children what they thought about during the sacrament. Our 10-year-old, Sharanne, commented that she thought about the life of Jesus Christ and the words from “The Living Christ.” Nothing more needed to be said.
Another time, Joseph was having difficulty going to bed. He wasn’t cooperating and was irritable. I asked him to tell me some of “The Living Christ.” As he began, I could feel the Spirit come into the room. He calmed down and changed back into his normal, happy self. Some time later, on another night when he was restless, I tried it again. This time his reply was very different: “No! I don’t want to be happy!” Our young son had learned what remembering Jesus Christ could do. Indeed, the Savior had become more real to all of us.
Our family finished memorizing “The Living Christ” the following Easter. It was the greatest four-month experience we have ever had. Even though the project is over, I know the effects of what we learned can remain with each family member for the rest of our lives.
I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are real. I am grateful to have a better understanding of Their works and to feel more deeply of Their love. I thank God for the matchless gift of His divine Son and for the beautiful experience of learning of Him and trying to become more like Him.

I first learned the principle of priesthood caring from my own father and grandfather, but I have also seen it manifested by thousands of worthy men. I learned great lessons of priesthood caring as a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood. I was assigned to serve as a junior home teaching companion to a great Scandinavian immigrant named Algot Johnson from Malmo, Sweden. I learned to admire everything about him, including his endearing Swedish accent. He taught me the true meaning of the Lord’s instruction to the teachers:
“The teacher’s duty is to watch over the church always, and be with and strengthen them;
“And see that there is no iniquity in the church, neither hardness with each other, neither lying, backbiting, nor evil speaking;
“And see that the church meet together often, and also see that all the members do their duty.”
Brother Johnson had paid a great price to leave his beloved Sweden and come to the United States. He was very dedicated. Despite the difference in our ages, we became lifelong friends. When he became our ward Sunday School superintendent, he asked for me to be his counselor. I was only 17 years of age. He was a successful contractor, and when I returned home from World War II, he built my first home. When I graduated from law school, I did legal work for him, and when I billed him for my legal services, he paid me more than I asked. That did not happen very often. I cite this experience to emphasize the importance of giving every Aaronic Priesthood holder the opportunity to serve as a junior companion to faithful Melchizedek Priesthood holders.

What truly converted me to the gospel was the Book of Mormon. I read some verses from it. Then one day I decided to follow Moroni’s promise to “ask God … if these things are not true; and … he will manifest the truth of it unto you” (Moroni 10:4). So I said a prayer and started reading the very first verse in the Book of Mormon. When I read it, the Holy Ghost witnessed to me in a wonderful way that the Book of Mormon truly is the word of God.

Sometimes I wanted immediate blessings from Heavenly Father. I thought He’d bless me with fewer panic attacks just because I went to church. But I’ve learned that it doesn’t work that way. I often have to push through the attacks and attend church before I can see His blessings.
Now I’ve realized I can also ask for help from my parents and medical professionals. I still have bad days, but they don’t control me. Instead, they help me prove to my Heavenly Father that I love Him and that I’ll fight through this challenge with His help.

Another time, Elder Hales was at a stake conference. He was not feeling well. He planned to go home right after the meeting. But after the closing prayer, Elder Hales felt like he should stay and shake hands with everyone. When one young man came to shake his hand, Elder Hales felt like he should give him a special message. Later the stake president told Elder Hales that the young man was going through a hard time. Getting to talk to Elder Hales was a special experience for him. Elder Hales knew that the Holy Ghost had told him to stay and to talk to the young man.

President N. Eldon Tanner was known throughout much of his adult life as “Mister Integrity.” As minister in the government of Alberta, private businessman, and Church leader, he exemplified the highest ideals of honesty, honor, and superior character—“a man to match our mountains; tall, rugged, unyielding, immeasurable,” as President Kimball said of his beloved associate (“Civic, Business Leaders Honor President Tanner,” Church News, 1 April 1978, p. 6). On one occasion, while in government service in Canada, Brother Tanner stood to vote against his own party on a proposal he could not accept. Warned by colleagues that his vote could cost him his government post, Brother Tanner replied that he “would rather be out honorably than to be in voting against my principles” (G. Homer Durham, N. Eldon Tanner, His Life and Service [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1982], p. 106; emphasis in original).

When Brother Tanner retired from government service, a Calgary newspaper article of the time commented:
For the general good sense of the government’s oil policies, most of the credit must go to Hon. Nathan Tanner, whose impending resignation from the Cabinet will be received everywhere with genuine regret. . . . We have not always agreed with him, but we respect him; and now, on his departure, we sincerely wish him well. [Durham, Tanner, p. 107]
At a retirement banquet in his honor, in response to the tributes paid him, Brother Tanner spoke with characteristic modesty and simplicity of the philosophy that guided his life: “The service we give is the price we pay for the privilege of living in this world. The type of service we give will determine the kind of world we will live in” (Durham, Tanner, p. 108).

This past summer my wife and I had two of our young grandsons staying with us while their parents participated in a pioneer trek activity in their stake. Our daughter wanted to be sure that the boys practiced the piano while away from home. She knew that a few days with the grandparents makes it a little easier to forget about practicing. One afternoon I decided to sit with my 13-year-old grandson, Andrew, and listen to him play.
This boy is full of energy and loves the outdoors. He could easily spend all of his time hunting and fishing. While he was practicing the piano, I could tell that he would rather be fishing on a nearby river. I listened as he pounded out each chord of a familiar song. Every note he played had the same emphasis and meter, making it difficult to clearly identify the melody. I sat beside him on the bench and explained the importance of applying just a little more pressure on the melody keys and a little less on those notes that accompany the melody. We talked about the piano being more than just a mechanical miracle. It can be an extension of his own voice and feelings and become a wonderful instrument of communication. Just as a person talks and moves smoothly from one word to another, so should the melody flow as we move from one note to another.
We laughed together as he tried again and again. His dimpled-cheek smile increased as the familiar melody began to emerge from what was previously a wild set of sounds. The message became clear: “I am a child of God, and he has sent me here.” I asked Andrew if he could feel the difference in the message. He responded, “Yes, Grandpa, I can feel it!”