Gospel Story Finder

Michael slung his backpack over his shoulder. It was the first day of school, and he couldn’t wait! He and his family lived in India. Many children in his city couldn’t go to school. Michael was grateful he had the opportunity to learn.
He liked learning—especially mathematics. He also loved reading magazines. He turned the colorful pages. He read about different animals and places around the world.
One day Michael read a different kind of magazine. It was from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Michael loved reading it. He wanted to learn more.
Michael had gone to other churches before. He liked learning about Jesus. But sometimes he felt confused. Which church was the true church?
Later, he read a booklet about the prophet Joseph Smith. He felt something special as he read it. Joseph Smith had also gone to different churches too searching for the truth. Maybe I’m like Joseph, Michael thought.
Michael wanted to go to this new church to see what it was like. But there were no Latter-day Saint churches in India. Michael was disappointed. He kept learning all he could. He read the Book of Mormon and prayed. He knew it was true! He wanted to be baptized. But he would have to wait.
Years passed. When Michael was 21, a senior missionary couple came to India. Finally, Michael was baptized! Soon he was able to serve a mission of his own in Utah, USA.
More years passed. One day a friend called him. The Church was looking for people to help translate general conference for people in India. Michael was nervous at first. But he was happy to help.
One October afternoon Michael was translating a talk by President Nelson in general conference. He heard the prophet announce that a temple would be built in India! Michael wanted to shout for joy. He cried happy tears.
Michael was grateful for all he had learned at school. But most of all, he was grateful he had learned about the gospel of Jesus Christ. He was happy more people in his country could learn about Him too!
Today, Michael helps translate general conference for people in India.

Both boys eagerly participate in the Scouting program. In New Brunswick, boys seven years old and younger are Beavers. As a Beaver, Stephen is learning to share, be a good sport, and work with others. In Cub Scouts, Jason has earned his sports badge by jumping over a rope. He was the only one who didn’t knock it down! He also earned his artist badge by drawing a picture, and his pet-care badge by caring for and feeding the family cat and one of the dogs.

“Come on, James,” Laura grumbled as she tugged her little brother’s hand. “I have homework to do, and I need to get home.” “But didn’t you see that lady?” James protested. “She was in the doorway over there by the hardware store, and she had a big bag.” “I didn’t notice.” Laura carefully checked traffic before guiding James across the street.
“But, Laura, she didn’t even have a coat on, and it’s snowing.”
“She can go downtown to the shelter,” Laura assured James. “It’s warm there.”
“She needs a coat,” James stated matter-of-factly, half-running to keep up with his sister’s long strides.
“You can’t do anything about that,” Laura said, pulling open the door to their apartment building. “I’ll make you a snack now,” she said, “but then please don’t interrupt me while I do my math. Mom and Dad will be home soon.”
James nodded and twisted the tip of his mitten, still thinking about the lady standing with her arms wrapped around her in the cold.
After supper was over and the kitchen had been cleaned, James put on his jacket, hat, and mittens and grabbed his bulging backpack. “Laura, if your homework’s done, will you take me for a walk?”
“Why? It’s snowing and cold.”
“I need exercise. My teacher said that children should get lots of it.”
Laura sighed, and James gave her a big hug. “Pleeeease,” he pleaded.
“Oh, all right.” Laura pulled on her coat. “We’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” she hollered to Mom.
James skipped along beside Laura as they walked down the block.
“You sure are full of pep tonight,” she said. “And why the backpack—is that to build your muscles too?”
James giggled and twirled around. “You’ll see,” he said, smiling.
When they reached the corner with the stoplight, Laura turned around, but James stood still, staring at the empty doorway near the hardware store. “The lady’s gone!”
“I told you she’d probably go to the shelter.”
“But I brought her a present.” James unzipped his backpack. “See—I have a blanket for her. It’s my blue one. I don’t use it anymore. Now what can I do?”
Laura looked at James’s watery eyes and quivering lip. She smiled gently. “Maybe we can take your blanket to the shelter,” she said. “But we’ll have to ask Mom and Dad if it’s OK to give it away, and we’ll need one of them to drive us there.”
Mom and Dad listened as James told them about the lady and asked to take the blanket to the shelter. By the time he’d finished, Laura came from her bedroom, carrying some sweaters. “If we can go to the shelter, I’ll take these—OK? I’ve outgrown them.”
“Hmmmm,” Dad said. “Wait here.” He and Mom disappeared into their bedroom. They were soon back with an armful of clothes each. “We can take these, too,” he said.
James helped fold the clothes into three bags. Then they all bundled up and stepped out into the hallway of their apartment building. As they shut their door, Mrs. Hopkins, their neighbor, was just going into her own apartment. Noticing their bags, she asked Laura, “Going to visit your grandparents?”
“No, we’re taking this stuff to the shelter,” James announced proudly before Laura could answer.
“You are?” said Mrs. Hopkins. “Could you wait just a minute?” She hurried inside and soon came back with a box of groceries. “Will you take these for me?”
Meanwhile, Mr. Thomas had opened his door to see what was going on. It turned out that he had two bags of books he wanted to donate. Then Jimmy, his son, gave them a big stuffed bear. Miss Andrews, who lived farther down the hall, gave them some boots and mittens and two coats. By the time they left, their station wagon was full of bags and boxes.
“I’ll help carry the bags,” James said. “They’re not too heavy for me, and I’m a good helper.”
“Yes, you are,” Dad said.
Laura gently ruffled James’s hair sticking out around his cap. “Your one blanket started an avalanche,” she said. “I didn’t know such a little squirt could do that.”

Carla and Tim* moved into a new home about two years ago. Since that time their relationships with their neighbors have deepened. They’ve noticed, however, that as they become more familiar with their new friends, they also see more of their friends’ shortcomings. Apparent flaws in everything from the upkeep of their homes to their child-rearing practices seem more glaring all the time. They have begun to dwell on their neighbors’ faults in their conversations, and sometimes as they lie in bed at night they find themselves talking about the little things that bothered them that day.
Elsewhere two families in a small rural ward began feuding years ago. Although the exact circumstances are difficult for anyone to remember, it had something to do with a remark made by one father to another. The original observation was innocent, but it was misunderstood, and within days several variations of the story had spread. Feelings were hurt, sides were taken, and for years bitter feelings have chased the Spirit from them at activities and gatherings. Local leaders have tried to provide counsel and encouragement. Often those actions have been misunderstood as well. Today members of an entire family, including children and grandchildren, refuse to attend church largely because a simple observation blew up into a fire of faultfinding and criticism.
Modern prophets and the scriptures warn us that finding fault and judging others—whether in a single relationship, a tight-knit neighborhood, or a ward setting—can be spiritually hazardous.
Faultfinding distorts our perception in a number of ways. First, we inaccurately see ourselves as superior. When we become preoccupied with the weaknesses of others, our attention is distracted from our own faults. We develop a kind of spiritual farsightedness, focusing our vision on the faults of others, and our spiritual eyes may begin to play tricks on us as we see right through what is much closer—our own faults.
In Matthew 7:3 [Matt. 7:3], the Savior describes this curious condition: “Why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?”
Though we may see ourselves as better than those we criticize, in reality they are as precious in the Lord’s sight as we are, as the prophet Jacob makes clear:
“And now, my brethren, I have spoken unto you concerning pride; and those of you which have afflicted your neighbor, and persecuted him because ye were proud in your hearts, of the things which God hath given you, what say ye of it?
“Do ye not suppose that such things are abominable unto him who created all flesh? And the one being is as precious in his sight as the other” (Jacob 2:20–21).
If we find ourselves feeling superior to our neighbor, we likely have forgotten that we also have “sinned, and come short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23).
In finding fault with others, we are liable to mistake appearance for substance. Unable to discern the thoughts and intents of our neighbors’ hearts, we base our judgments solely on what we can see or erroneously infer. President Spencer W. Kimball commented that “we often judge wrongfully if we try to fathom the meaning and motives behind [the actions of others] and place on them our own interpretation” (The Miracle of Forgiveness [1969], 268).
We may compare favorably with those who bear obvious signs of sin, because many of our foibles remain private and hidden. This appears to have been the case with the scribes and Pharisees, who wanted to stone the woman who was caught in adultery. But when Jesus said to them, “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her” (John 8:7), the accusers silently left.
While it’s easy to condemn the hypocrisy of the scribes and Pharisees, we may not be all that different today. Consider the growing number of tabloids and television shows that have joined the hunt for the “dirty secrets” of celebrities, politicians, and everyday people. Perhaps the popularity of these magazines and shows comes of our desire to find a shady character against whom we might appear to be glowing saints. Our own imperfections fade from our notice as we watch the sins of others paraded before us. Then, following condemnation of the designated villain, we see no need to work on our own imperfections, which seem to have diminished into insignificance.
If we ridicule others, content in believing that our sins are hidden from them, we become hypocrites like the scribes and Pharisees, whom Jesus likened to “whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones, and of all uncleanness” (Matt. 23:27).
Finally, when we criticize and find fault with others, our perception can be distorted because we often see our own weaknesses in others. The Apostle Paul warned of this tendency: “Thou art inexcusable, O man, whosoever thou art that judgest: for wherein thou judgest another, thou condemnest thyself; for thou that judgest doest the same things” (Rom. 2:1; emphasis added).
If we project our flaws onto others, perhaps our attitude toward them is a barometer of our own imperfect performance. This advice found in the hymnbook is instructive:
Should you feel inclined to censure
Faults you may in others view,
Ask your own heart, ere you venture,
If you have not failings, too.
(Hymns, number 235)
A second hazard of faultfinding is that it stalls our personal and spiritual progress. This earth life is a time for us to prepare ourselves to meet God (see Alma 34:32), and focusing on the faults of others distracts us from that task. The danger in the practice of judging others unrighteously lies not only in what it keeps us from seeing—our own faults—but also in what it keeps us from doing—working to correct those faults.
Perhaps that is why the Lord abhors hypocrisy. Feelings of self-righteousness and complacency are deceptive, for if we are satisfied that our problems aren’t as serious as someone else’s, we tend to forget that how we measure up against other people is not the criterion for gaining eternal life.
The hare in Aesop’s fable provides a classic illustration of such pride and complacency. A hare and a tortoise agree to race. The hare scampers off, leaving the tortoise plodding slowly behind. Eventually the hare becomes tired and, sure of victory, decides to stop and rest. He falls asleep, and the steady tortoise quietly passes by, going on to win the race.
The hare’s problem was not that he lacked the ability to finish the race. Far from it. His problem was that he thought he had the race won. If we, like the foolish hare, think we have it made, there’s no need to keep working.
However, we haven’t crossed the finish line yet. If we stop now and go to sleep, no matter how far along the path of spiritual progress we have come, we’ll stop short of the finish line. As soon as we start focusing on how far behind our spiritual competition is, we divert energy needed to further our own progress and are liable to forget the whole purpose of the race.
The hare’s pride and complacency are like those of the Pharisee who found fault with the publican.
“The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican.
“I fast twice in the week, I give tithes of all that I possess” (Luke 18:11–12).
Without realizing it, the Pharisee had overlooked the beam in his own eye—he had spiritually gone to sleep. In the next verses, we learn that the publican, apparently having recognized and confessed his sins to God, was at that time better off spiritually than the proud Pharisee.
“And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner.
“I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other: for every one that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted” (Luke 18:13–14).
Like the Pharisee and the hare, when we think we have it made, we emphasize our supposed superiority over others instead of working on overcoming our own weaknesses. If we find ourselves becoming pacified, thinking all is well because we seem better than others, let us remember Nephi’s warning that this is a way Satan “cheateth [our] souls, and leadeth [us] away carefully down to hell” (2 Ne. 28:21).
Finally, when we are harsh in our judgment of others, we are not able to receive compassion and mercy ourselves.
After I had served four months as a full-time missionary, my initial enthusiasm and zeal for the work had waned considerably. I found myself having a hard time understanding and being compassionate with my companion and was discouraged that we weren’t succeeding in the work. I lacked all the confidence I had felt so strongly just a few months earlier.
Alone in an interview with my mission president, I expressed my feelings of inadequacy and discouragement. “How do I develop more confidence in my work as a missionary?” I asked.
His response could not have surprised me more. He didn’t try to boost my confidence by telling me what good work I was doing. He didn’t teach me about the power of positive thinking. Instead he asked me how I felt about other people, especially those with whom I worked.
“I don’t have much patience,” I admitted. “I was so eager when I started my mission, and it’s frustrating when things don’t go as I anticipated.”
Before I left on my mission, I honestly thought I could get along with anyone. However, in the midst of adversity, I found that I was often critical and judgmental of others.
The president then read a familiar scripture:
“Let thy bowels also be full of charity towards all men, and to the household of faith, and let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God. …
“The Holy Ghost shall be thy constant companion” (D&C 121:45–46).
The relevance of this scripture to my situation was immediately apparent. As a missionary, I had lacked confidence, and this scripture promised enough confidence to wax strong in God’s presence. I lacked self-assurance, and this scripture promised the Comforter as a constant companion.
And the key to that kind of assurance, courage, and confidence? In addition to continually virtuous thoughts, I must have “charity towards all men.”
In my appraisal of others, including my companion, I had been critical and judgmental. By failing to have charity, I had cut off my potential source of confidence. I learned an invaluable lesson that day. I had long known that I hurt others when I criticize and find fault, but for the first time I realized how my judgmental attitude was harming myself as well. Since that discussion, I’ve noticed many times that when I am charitable toward others, I feel more confident and less limited by my own faults. In short, the harder I try to be forgiving, the easier it is to feel forgiven.
The Christlike attributes of charity and compassion simply cannot be selectively applied in our lives, and we cannot expect to feel confident and assured in our self-appraisals when we pick at the slightest defects in those around us.
Perhaps part of the reason we all experience difficulties, weaknesses, and shortcomings in this life is so that we might have an opportunity to be more compassionate with others. What a tragedy if we overlook our common humanness and point an accusing finger instead!

I wish we could take time to talk about what kinds of conferences you can have with each other, one on one. A marvelous, touching, beautiful story was told to me just the other day about a girl that I had tried to reach and could not, that her mother had tried to reach and could not, that her bishop had tried to reach and could not, that her stake president had tried to reach and could not. Nobody could reach her—except her girlfriend, who took her by the collar, shook her, started to cry, and said, “Don’t you see? Don’t you see what you’re doing to me? You break my heart!” She sobbed. She just shook, and she shook her friend. That girl, when nobody (it appeared) on the face of this earth could touch her, is in the Church. With the help of her bishop, she is on the way to repentance in as dramatic and as beautiful and as glowing a way as I have ever seen in my life. I could not reach her; her mother could not reach her; her bishop could not reach her; but a friend reached her and literally grabbed her and shook her and said, “You’re breaking my heart!” That’s one kind of a conference worth having. I invite you to hold it—maybe less dramatically, but to talk about “the welfare of your souls” and to “see that there is no iniquity among you.”

When I was nine years old, I had a wonderful Primary teacher named Sister Kohler. I was very shy, and she was so gentle that I loved being with her. One day she gave us each a piece of paper. We all wrote down what we wanted to do when we got older. I wrote: “Go to college and get married in the temple.” I taped my paper above my closet door. At night, light from the street lamp shone in through my window. I looked up at my piece of paper. It reminded me that I wanted to go to the temple.
Back then, there were only 12 temples in the world. I wanted to go to every one.
Whenever my mother and father planned a vacation, they always took our family to the temple. We lived in Oregon, USA. The nearest temple was 600 miles (965 km) away in Cardston, Alberta, Canada. Our car didn’t have air conditioning. My brother and sister and I sat in the back seat. We would hang a wet washcloth outside the car window. Then we put it on our necks to cool off.
It was a thrill when we finally saw the temple. I didn’t know very much about what happened there, but my parents were always happy when they came out. I knew the temple was very important. I knew it was the Lord’s house.
After I turned 12, I got to do temple baptisms in several temples. Then when I met my future husband, I found out that he loved the temple too! We got married in the Manti Utah Temple.
You can prepare for the temple every day. Go to the temple when you can. Touch its walls. When my grandson Jarret was 11 years old, he worked on family history every Sunday with his dad. He found many names of ancestors. Now that he is 12, he is doing baptisms in the temple for these ancestors!
When you are in the temple, you can walk where Jesus walks. It is His house. I hope you will pray every day for Heavenly Father to help you prepare to enter the temple and feel His love.

The Talk: When our third son Josh was about three, we were at the Sunday session of our stake conference. He was actively coloring in some of the Living Scriptures books we had, which some of you may have heard of or had in your homes. I naturally presumed he wasn’t listening to the proceedings of the conference. One of our dear friends, then serving as a counselor in the stake presidency, was speaking. He was talking about the challenges we all face in the world today. This included the wickedness that comes as people don’t honor and live by the law of chastity. As one sentence was shared, Josh stopped his coloring, looked up at me, and said, “Dad, that man said sex. That is not appropriate.”
I of course knew this wasn’t the time or place to try and have a discussion as to why it was OK that our stake presidency had counseled us on these important matters, so I just agreed with him, and we moved on. Now what was said and done was entirely appropriate, but it does remind me that we keep our eyes on the flag when we always strive to be appropriate, for we never know who is watching or listening. This story is that of the talk.

Late Tuesday afternoon, April 17, 1906. President Joseph E. Robinson of the California Mission arose to conclude the two-day conference of the San Francisco District. Pleased by the special spirit of the sessions, he praised the members and missionaries present, then warned them of the predicted latter-day calamities by quoting from Luke, wherein Jesus tells of wars, pestilences, heavenly signs, and earthquakes in divers places. Afterwards, to round out the conference, the missionaries gathered for an MIA social at the mission home on Franklin Street. Joining the festivities were five elders who had arrived that afternoon on their way to missions in the South Pacific. When the party ended about midnight, local missionaries were reminded of the district picnic scheduled the next day for the Golden Gate Park.
That night, while most of the 122 Saints and elders of the San Francisco Branch slept, two former Utahns were at work in the San Francisco Chronicle office. Race Whitney and Wally Young, both reporters, worked through the night until daylight on an article about the visiting Metropolitan Opera Company. Exhausted, they were walking home at 5:13 A.M. when the world seemed to fall apart. The entire city suddenly began to jerk and sway. Timbers splintered and groaned, and walls collapsed with a roar.
“We were standing in front of the Auditorium Hotel when the crash came,” Race Whitney wrote to his father, Orson F. “Instinctively we started for the middle of the street, and where we [had] stood less than one second before there was a pile of bricks seven feet high.” With legs wide-spread to keep their balance, they outran the remaining four stories which likewise crashed to the street behind them. Wally stopped in the middle of the street beneath a dangerous mass of electric wires; Race yelled a warning, and Wally jumped aside just as “the wires came down, sputtering and tearing up everything they touched. That we were not both electrocuted was the second miracle of the morning.” Half in shock, they congratulated themselves on being the only reporters on the street to witness the spectacular earthquake, little dreaming that a few hours later every newspaper office in town would be smouldering in ruins, unable to print their stories of the catastrophe.
Three massive tremors also rocked the LDS mission home on Franklin Street, “as with a giant’s mighty hand,” until it seemed to the occupants that the three-story structure would collapse. According to President Robinson: “The chimneys crashed into the roof and ceiling of the room above us. In the parlor the mantle and fire-place with the candelabra … fell outward and covered the floor. Dust arose from the broken walls, swinging pictures, etc. The chains of the little cuckoo-clock … were broken into a hundred bits by the swinging weights and flew about the room.”
While comforting his terrified children, President Robinson glanced out a window and in the early morning grayness could see broken buildings, frightened dogs trying to get into houses, and shattered glass covering the sidewalks. Moments later an observant daughter cried out, “Papa, there are fires breaking out downtown and big clouds of smoke everywhere.” The mission leader felt stabs of fear as he viewed the spreading holocaust and pondered the fates of branch members scattered throughout the huge city.
And what about the Pacific-bound elders? President Robinson did not know until later that their hotel, a five-story brick structure, received massive damage. The five elders were jarred awake by the violent tremor. Noise and confusion outside convinced them that they should dress and investigate. Forcing their door open, they found the outside hall and stairwells filled with fallen plaster, rubbish, and dust. Reaching the main entrance, they were shocked to see that the front and back walls of their hotel had collapsed to the sidewalks. Panicking, they followed along with a mob of terrified people rushing through the streets. Then, somewhat regaining their reason, they decided to rescue their luggage, which contained all their mission clothes and supplies. Through debris and smoke they hiked to the railroad depot, where the baggage agent told them their things had been transferred to the warehouse building across the street, pointing to a structure which was a solid blaze of fire.
Dejected, the five headed back to their hotel when a second strong quake caught them in an alleyway. Dodging bricks and beams, they managed to reach the hotel without a scratch. Once there, said Elder Leo Gardner, “to our great astonishment we discovered that the two rooms which we five missionaries had slept in were the only two rooms in the entire building which were intact. There was not even so much as the plaster knocked off the ceiling of either room.”
Such reports were common among the terrified populace, and other Mormons felt similarly fortunate. One young Latter-day Saint nurse, a Sister Wolfinger, was on duty at French Hospital when the first earthquake came. According to President Robinson, nearly every hospital room was wrecked and all were damaged except the one where she was nursing. Keeping calm, she helped move patients out and into tents in a vacant lot for safety.

On the anniversary of my brother’s death, I reflected on my time since he died. I remembered not only the extreme pain I felt but also the blessings God gave to me.
I never understood how people could say that the death of a loved one could bring blessings. I couldn’t understand how I could possibly have joy and gratitude for something that hurt me so deeply. There was one night, however, that changed my perspective entirely.
I woke up in the middle of the night with the heaviest heart I’d ever had. The pain was suffocating me. I fell to my knees and sobbed a prayer to my Heavenly Father. All my life I had been taught about the Atonement and Jesus Christ’s miraculous healing power. Now my faith was being tested. Did I really believe? I asked my Father in Heaven to please heal my heart. The pain was too much for me to deal with alone.
Then a feeling of peace, comfort, and love swept over my entire body. I felt as though God had wrapped His arms around me and was protecting me from the intense pain I had felt. I still missed my brother, but I was able to see with different eyes. There was so much for me to learn from this experience.
I know the Lord’s love and peace are available. We need only to partake.

When I was young, my family moved and joined a new ward. My dad was called as the bishop shortly after. It was a bit baffling from our limited perspective—there were other qualified men in the ward, and my dad didn’t feel like he knew the members or their individual needs as well as he would have liked.
But he did his best and served faithfully, working hard to get to know those he was serving. By the time his service ended, he felt great love for the members of our ward.
And right after his release, he was called to the nursery.
It was remarkable to watch the transition. He loved the nursery children and was thoughtful about planning lessons and activities that helped them develop a strong foundation in the gospel. Even though his calling in the ward had changed, he stayed close to the members of the ward that he’d come to know and love and continued to learn new ways to serve his brothers and sisters.
He also had more time to devote to our family; shortly after his release, my mom followed a prompting to go back to school and earn an advanced degree, so his responsibilities in our home increased as she spent more time studying. It was truly a blessing for our family to have his help at that time.
My dad’s responsibilities had changed, but the significance and impact of his responsibilities had not. The Lord knew what was best for both the ward and my family. As President Dallin H. Oaks, First Counselor in the First Presidency, explained: “We do not ‘step down’ when we are released, and we do not ‘step up’ when we are called. There is no ‘up or down’ in the service of the Lord. There is only ‘forward or backward,’ and that difference depends on how we accept and act upon our releases and our callings.”1

On the last night of a soldier’s service, the soldier and his friends would drink a lot of alcohol and have a rowdy party. I thought and prayed about what I should do when my last night came. When it did, I told the group of soldiers serving with me, “Let’s do something that has never been done before.” We dressed in our best suits and went to say a quiet good-bye to our army leaders. Our major couldn’t believe it. I felt that Heavenly Father had guided me to find an answer to my problem. Looking back, I can see that the greatest blessings in my life have come by following the counsel of prophets and keeping God’s commandments.

The Holy Ghost helps us keep the commandments, like obeying our parents. I like to go biking with my friends. My parents tell me not to go too far, but my friends like to go on long rides. One time my friends invited me to go on a long ride, but I felt that I shouldn’t go. My friends left on their ride and one of them got hurt. He was eventually OK, but I was glad I listened to the Spirit and obeyed my parents.

One morning as I watched TV, I came across a show about ghosts. Watching it unsettled me, and I switched off the TV. I’ve always had a hard time separating fact from fiction. I have a vivid imagination, and often I can’t help but conjure up images and situations in my mind that turn my blood cold.
That night, the memory of the ghost stories assaulted me, and I lay in my bed in wide-eyed terror. My imagination wouldn’t stop, and I was literally afraid for my life.
I turned on my lamp and prayed for peace.
Finishing my prayer, I opened my scriptures. As I read, my anxiety slowly faded. I felt the comforting impression that my Heavenly Father was aware of my fears. He would protect me. I read on, clinging to the growing feeling of comfort.
I read Joshua 1:9: “Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee withersoever thou goest.”
I wasn’t really alone. I was reassured that Heavenly Father is aware of me and knows my fears. I closed my book and drifted off into peaceful sleep.
I know that Heavenly Father will always be there for me. In a world where apprehension and uncertainty threaten peace of mind, we can take refuge in the Lord.

The last time I worked on that kind of a project, I spent nine hours moving things around, changing them from one box to another, stacking some here and some there. When I was finished I was so proud of myself. Then I realized that all I had really done was move them from one place to another.
My wife says that I have a subconscious rule that I must move things from one place to another at least a hundred times before I can bring myself to give them away. Suffice it to say, if you need help in this, there are better experts than I to teach you.

One of the “new” families in the branch is José Felipe Hernández Jorge and his wife, Magnolia. Baptized in Mérida, Mexico, eight years ago, they moved their family to Palenque two years ago and quietly fell into inactivity. “Six or seven months ago, Elder and Sister de la Cruz found us and we became friends,” says Brother Hernández. “We’ve been attending ever since!” After only a few months, he succeeded Elder de la Cruz as branch president.

When I was sixteen, and discovering how important girls were in my life, my father invited me to go with him to girl's camp. We went early one summer morning to take food supplies. WOW... girl's camp where there were two hundred girls my age from our stake. I knew most of them and there were no other boys.

It was still dark when we arrived way up in the mountains and pine trees of their encampment. Quietly, we began to carry boxes of food to the kitchen area. We smelled bacon and eggs cooking for that army of girls, but none were in sight. Then I heard music. The Beatles were my thing then but this was quite different. I could not make it out but it was far away and seemed to go straight to my heart. I stopped and hid behind a tree, as the singing seemed to surround me and get louder. Then I saw. Each camp of girls was coming down to breakfast. They came down the paths from every direction, singing primary songs and it was very special and beautiful. I watched from my hiding place. And then my Heavenly Father opened my eyes and mind to something I had not realized before. I knew these girls. Some were tall, some short. Some had long brown hair and some short blond. But like words in my mind I heard, "Sid, these are all mine. They are all my daughters and they are all beautiful and precious to me. To each one I have endowed or shared my power, the unspeakable power to create bodies for my children." I was stunned at the thought. The power to create. Then the thoughts continued. "Sid, you must never speak lightly or joke about their bodies or their power to create. You must protect their virtue always. You must treat them all with respect and their sacred powers with reverence." Now I was in tears. "If you do as I say, one day you may be worthy to take one of them to my holy temple and to become an eternal partner with her."

This experience changed my life. Dating was different after that, and I became more serious about preparing for a mission.

My Scout troop once went on a 50-mile hike in the Grand Canyon. At the time I was the deacons quorum president and Scout patrol leader. We planned and prepared for a year, making sure that we wouldn’t have any problems. On the second day, we started hiking and got to our stopping point early. At that time, I got a very strong feeling that we needed to keep moving instead of making camp, and the group followed my lead. We were supposed to do only 14 miles that day, but we ended up doing 23 and finding a good campground. When we finally stopped, everyone was upset, but I knew it was right.
The next day we did 13 instead of 11 miles, again going farther than planned and finding a good spot to camp. Hopeful to finish early because we were ahead, we got up the next day. It was lightly drizzling, but we kept going. It started raining harder and harder, but we just kept going. Then my leader said there were going to be flash floods and we needed to find shelter ASAP. But suddenly lightning flashed—and it was right overhead.
We started to run, praying that we would be able to find shelter. My friend and I saw a small hut in the distance and headed toward it. As we were running, a lightning bolt struck right by us, so we ran faster. Reaching it safely, I turned around to help those in the back, and we all made it to the shelter. Eventually the storm passed, and we finished the hike. I am so grateful for the Spirit prompting me to continue on the hike longer than we’d planned, because by being closer to the end we were able to find shelter.

Something was different about nine-year-old Heidi after school that cold afternoon. Instead of flinging her jacket like a Frisbee, she carefully hung it on the hook. Rather than pouncing at the refrigerator like a hungry tiger, she stared quietly out the window as if she was looking at something far beyond the border of the yard.
“Well, hi there!” Mom said, hoping to get her attention.
Like a person awakened from a dream, Heidi looked at her mom and smiled. “Oh, uh, how was your day, Mom?”
Mom wiped her hands on her apron and studied Heidi’s face. “My day was fine. How was yours?”
“Well … ,” Heidi began slowly, “it was … different.”
“I believe you. You seem to be a million miles away.”
“Well, maybe not a million. But at least as far as Arkansas.”
“Arkansas is a long way from California. What started you thinking about Arkansas?”
Mom cut an apple into four pieces and offered one to Heidi, who just cradled it in her hand.
“There’s a new boy named Billy coming to join our class tomorrow. The teacher told us his parents were both in a car accident in Arkansas. His mother died, and his father is in a hospital, not expected to live. Billy was sent here to California to live with an uncle.” Heidi looked down at the apple she was holding. “Can you imagine being that boy, Mom?”
“No, but you’re really trying to, aren’t you?”
Heidi nodded. “I just wish that there was something I could do for him. He’s going to feel so alone tomorrow.”
“I’m sure that there are some things you can do to help. Let’s think of some.”
“I can smile at him.”
“Good idea.”
“I can show him around the school and tell him about our classroom routine.” Heidi put her chin on her hand and looked up at her mother. “But it isn’t enough. Isn’t there something special I can do?”
“Well, there is something special we can do for Billy. Something that just might be ‘enough’.”
“What?”
“You and I can fast and pray for him. We can ask Heavenly Father to bless him to feel at peace in his new home and at his new school. We can also pray for his father to get well. What do you think about that?”
Heidi thought a moment about fast Sundays. She had been taught that fasting would help her feel the Spirit, but she usually just felt hungry and grumpy. She hesitated, but then something inside made her feel that it was going to be OK. She smiled at her mother. “I like that idea. Let’s do it.”
Just then, Heidi’s thirteen-year-old brother, Chris, entered the kitchen. Hearing Heidi’s last sentence, he asked, “Do what?”
Mom briefly told Chris about Billy and explained their plan. Chris said, “I’ll fast with you.”
“Wow! Really?” Heidi asked.
“Yeah, sure,” he answered, reaching for some cookies. Stopping his hand just above the cookie jar, he asked, “When do we start?”
“After dinner,” Mom answered.
The next day, Heidi came home, looking a little pale but happy.
“Wow! I thought fasting on Sundays was hard! Try playing kick ball and watching everyone else eat lunch! But you know, I believe our fasting and prayers helped Billy.”
“Oh good! Tell me about it.”
“Well, when I smiled at him, he smiled back at me. The other kids were pretty nice to him, and he seemed to have made friends with a couple of boys by the end of the day.”
“That’s great,” Mom said.
“And then—it was weird,” Heidi added. “You know how the language on the playground has been really bothering me lately?” Mom nodded, and Heidi continued, “Well, it was amazing, because I heard those same swear words but for some reason, they couldn’t get inside my mind. It was as if my brain was protected all day from getting dirty! Neat, huh?”
“That’s wonderful, Heidi,” Mom said, smiling.
“I’m really tired, but I feel happy. I hope Billy feels as peaceful as I do right now.”
Mom gave her a little hug. “I have a feeling he does.”
Chris came home, flopped into the nearest chair, and let his heavy pack thud to the floor. He leaned his head against the big cushion and closed his eyes. “When do we eat?”
“Let’s finish our fast together with a prayer. We’ll have dinner soon,” Mom suggested. “But first, tell me how your day went.”
“Well, you know how I’ve been dreading P. E. for weeks because a certain guy has been trying to shorten my life span?”
“Yes,” Mom answered, wondering what new form of violence this “gym enemy” had tried on Chris.
“I don’t know how to explain it, but today I didn’t feel any anger toward him, and he left me alone.”
As the three of them knelt to say one more prayer for Billy, Mom put her arms around her children’s shoulders. Was it her imagination, or had they both grown a little taller that day?

Returning to BYU after faithfully serving a mission, Ty Mansfield, a beloved friend and colleague came face-to-face with the reality of his same-sex attraction, something he could not just push away, but seemed to be inherent to his mortality. He wrestled. What did this mean for the core dreams of his life, his relationships, his future family? What did this mean for his testimony and faith in the plan of salvation?

All that the world could offer him was a false, all-or-nothing choice captured poignantly in the words of faithful member Bennett Borden: “I can act on my feelings, be in a gay relationship, feel like I’ve got some...connection, and be out of the Church. Or I can keep my covenants, stay in the Church, and die a horrible, lonely death…” [23] It was irreconcilable. He had felt the reality of the Lord’s love for him, taking his heart from shame. But he did not know how to go forward. He could not bear to think of life without deep relationships, and he could not bear to leave the God and Church he loved. He desperately needed direction and comfort.

During a particularly difficult period, he went to general conference fasting. He describes, “As soon as the opening prayer was given, I was completely enveloped by a spiritual feeling...For nearly two hours, all the hurt, the pain, the confusion, the frustration [was] completely gone. In [its] place was a feeling of divine love I had also never experienced. As a part of [it], there was a feeling of what I perceived as pure celestial love and desire to be with a daughter of God in the most holy, connected, and uniting of ways. The world’s portrayal of love and romance seemed so shallow and “false” in comparison. With the feeling came the words: ‘Just stay with me. If you do, this is the feeling you will someday feel—and it will be a permanent part of your being.’ And then suddenly, as the end of the session approached, the feeling left. I didn’t know how I would eventually grow into that feeling as an integral part of my being, but I trusted that God would lead me there.” [24]

Ty did not know then what awaited him, including marriage and five remarkable children. But foundational to any of those miraculous gifts was the profound invitation from His Redeemer, “Just stay with me.”

Before our calling as Stake Interfaith Specialists, we served in the bishopric and Relief Society of our ward, where we had many opportunities to build bridges in our local community. During that time, we were blessed to open our meetinghouse to various local organisations and faith groups in need of a space to gather. These included an International Women’s Day celebration, pop-up clothing shops for asylum seekers, English Connect lessons, warm space initiatives in winter and even small social gatherings for refugee families.
One of the most cherished relationships we developed was with the Ahmadiyya Muslim Association. Without a building of their own, they have used our meetinghouse for several events and have become close friends of our members. A highlight was a youth evening where their young people met with ours to talk about our respective beliefs, share experiences and enjoy sports and games together. The unity and joy felt that evening were so powerful that we plan to make it a regular event.
Since being set apart in our new callings, our desire to reach out has only grown. We’ve come to know and love many people of different faiths, churches and service backgrounds and we’ve felt strengthened by their examples of quiet, consistent goodness. Their desire to serve, often without recognition, has been truly humbling.
Early on, we felt prompted to look into the Stevenage Interfaith Forum, which had been inactive for some time. With the Lord’s help and the support of others, we were able to re-establish it. Today, eight different faith groups and churches meet regularly, with strong backing from civic leaders—including the previous Lady Mayor and the current Mayor of Stevenage.
This led to our invitation to the Stevenage Mayor’s Multi-Faith Gathering 2025, held on the Covid Day of Reflection. Brother Head was asked to speak in his dual role as Chair of the Interfaith Forum and a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He shared how our faith inspires us to reach out, to build community and to serve. The response was very positive and several groups have since asked to be involved in our future meetings.
The event’s theme was ‘Coming Together’ and it truly lived up to its name. Prayers and reflections were offered for youth, for those with special needs and for the care of our planet. The words shared by friends from the Sikh, Ahmadiyya Muslim, Methodist, Jewish, Roman Catholic, Church of England and Latter-day Saint communities were moving and unifying.
As Latter-day Saints, we believe in “standing as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places”. Participating in interfaith work allows us to do just that—to represent Christ in our communities, to serve shoulder to shoulder with people of goodwill and to show that our Church truly desires to bless the lives of all of God’s children.
We are grateful for these opportunities to build relationships, foster mutual respect and help others come to know who we are by the way we live and serve.