Gospel Story Finder

Jesus Christ told the Prophet Joseph Smith many important things to help us. The Church set up a printing press to print Jesus’s words. That way people would be able to read them.
One day, a group of angry men came. They destroyed the printing press. They threw the pages of the scriptures out into the street.
Two sisters named Mary Elizabeth and Caroline Rollins saw what happened. They ran and gathered the pages in their arms.
The girls hid in a cornfield until the men left. They had saved the scriptures! Those scriptures later became part of the Doctrine and Covenants.

After hearing this talk, I decided to put it to the test. One day, my daughter and I made our favorite homemade lasagna. The thought popped into my head to make an extra pan and take it to the lady that we minister to. I didn't give the second voice a chance to say anything and quickly began preparing the second pan of lasagna. I texted her to be sure she'd be home and then dropped off some fresh-out-of-the-oven lasagna a couple of hours later. Done! I had acted on my good thought and didn't think much more about it.

The next morning, I saw a text from her. She said that her baby had been sick, and she hadn't been able to put him down all day. She was trying to figure out what to do for dinner that night when my text came through. She said it was a little tender mercy for her.

I know this is a small thing, but for me it was pretty big to follow a prompting and to know that it was an answer to someone’s need. The formula is so simple! Pray for promptings; act on good thoughts; ignore the second voice. You'll do more good than you'll ever know.

Recently I met an intelligent young man with great potential. He was undecided about a mission. He has decided not to attend a university now. In his free time he only does what he likes to do. He doesn’t work because he doesn’t have to, and it would take time from pleasure. He passed seminary classes without much thought of personally applying the knowledge gained. I noted: “You are making choices today that appear to give you what you want: an easy life, abundant enjoyment, and not much sacrifice. You can do that for a while, yet every decision you make narrows your future. You are eliminating possibilities and options. There will come a time, and it won’t be too distant, where you are going to spend the rest of your life doing things you don’t want to do, in places you don’t want to be, because you have not prepared yourself. You are not taking advantage of your opportunities.”
I mentioned how everything I treasure today began to mature in the mission field. Missionary service is not something we do for ourselves, yet great growth and preparation for the future is gained from a mission. There they focus outside of themselves on other people. They draw close to the Lord and really learn His teachings. They find individuals interested in the message but not sure of its worth. Missionaries try with every capacity—prayer, fasting, and testifying—to help individuals embrace the truth. A mission teaches one to be led by the Spirit, to understand our purpose for being on earth and how to accomplish it. I gave him a blessing. As he left, I prayed earnestly that the Lord would help him choose the right priorities. Otherwise, he will fail in life’s purpose.

Later, after I went through the endowment session, I saw a man who was receiving his endowment for the first time. I watched as he finally entered the celestial room and embraced his family members. The joy they felt was palpable and brought tears to my eyes.
This reminded me of when I entered the celestial room on the day of my own endowment and was greeted by my family, including my dad. It gave me hope for the joy I will feel when we are reunited again—joy that I will get to experience because of Jesus Christ and His Atonement. The temple and family history work we do truly can remind us what matters most.

“Wow, did you see that?” my seven-year-old son, Weslon, exclaimed in delight as he watched the football players in action .He wished aloud, “I’d sure like to meet some of the team.”
We frequently found ourselves at the Round Valley High School football games in Eager, Arizona. Besides Weslon, my husband and I had become involved in the games because of our daughter Mitzi, who was a student at the school. As the season progressed, football heroes had blossomed in young Weslon’s impressionable mind.
Battling my own shyness, I determined to help this stargazing, bashful boy meet some of his heroes. “We’ll go talk to some of the team,” I told him after the game. I then led my son onto the field into the crowd. We approached one of his heroes and tried to offer congratulations. The young man walked past us, aware only of himself and two chattering girls who had cut in front of us to reach him. The next player mumbled “thanks” without stopping as I told him “good game” and tried to tell him he had an admirer in my son.
Reluctantly, we approached the last player. As I told him what a good job he had done, Ty Workman stopped, gave a big smile and said, “Thank you very much!”
Encouraged by his response, I started telling him of Weslon’s admiration. Ty’s black hair and handsome face dripped with sweat from his efforts on the playing field as he listened. He extended his hand to shake Weslon’s and said, “Thanks buddy. What’s your name?”
My son quietly said, “Weslon,” and shyly looked down at the ground.
I told Ty, “Weslon likes the way you play.” Ty smiled at him and said, “Thanks a lot. I’m really glad to meet you, Weslon, buddy.”
Mitzi went to school the next day and told Ty, “My little brother thinks you’re a special person.” From then on she relayed messages between Ty and Weslon. Soon the two boys became real buddies. After each football game they could be found together with Ty’s arm draped around Weslon, chatting about the game. We attended every football game, even those out of town.
As we became acquainted with Ty, we found he was popular with everyone—young and old. He didn’t drink, smoke, or take drugs, and he had good moral values. He encouraged Weslon to avoid harmful things and often repeated his favorite phrase, “Stay close to the Lord.”
Several weeks into this friendship, Mitzi came home from school with some disturbing news. Her face a mask of disbelief, she said, “This is so sad. Ty has multiple sclerosis. They said he might not live longer than a year.” Weslon’s face fell as we told him what multiple sclerosis was. A heavy silence came over us as we realized the seriousness of Ty’s illness.
In the next few months Ty had several attacks requiring hospitalization. He lost weight but forced himself to do well on the football field. Ty, along with Mitzi, was also a member of a school singing and dancing group. He made it to many difficult practices and performances between hospital stays.
Late one evening we received a telephone call from Ty’s father. “Ty is pretty sick. I think it would help him if Weslon could visit him at the hospital tomorrow. He’s blind and he’s paralyzed from the waist down.”
After the telephone call, Weslon disappeared into his room. He came out a little later, green eyes glittering with tears, and said, “I said a prayer for Ty.”
The next morning we visited the hospital, carrying gifts bought with Weslon’s savings. Ty greeted Weslon with a cheery, “Hi, buddy! How are you doing? I can’t see anything clearly; you look like shadows to me.”
“We brought you a few things, Ty,” I told him, trying not to let him hear the fear in my voice.
“Thanks a lot,” Ty said, his dark eyes looking our way but not focusing. During our visit my words were cheerful, but my heart ached as I watched the two buddies talking.
We were amazed when the hospital released Ty a few days later. He went home with his eyesight and with the feeling in his legs gradually returning. Soon he was back in school.
Our family spent a lot of time with Ty through the next few months. Laughter and friendship raised our spirits during Ty’s visits. He would talk with Weslon about lots of things, always reinforcing his slogan, “Stay close to the Lord.”
Soon after Christmas, Ty was flown to a hospital in the city of Phoenix, Arizona, for treatment. While he was there, he went into a coma. Just when we decided we should take Weslon on the long trip to Phoenix because the doctors didn’t expect Ty to live, we received a telephone call. Ty had come out of the coma!
Following his release from the hospital, Ty’s parents took him to a specialist in California. After many tests the doctors ruled out multiple sclerosis. Numerous additional tests found Ty to be suffering from a virus that attacked the nervous system during times of stress or exhaustion. We were joyfully relieved at the news. Ty was still a sick young man, but now he knew how to avoid the debilitating attacks, and, best of all, the possibility of an early death no longer faced him.
In spite of his many absences from school, Ty was well enough to graduate with his classmates in May. During the summer Ty had a job and practiced for the Arizona state high school all-star football game. He was one of four young men chosen from our region to play on the state team. Weslon was invited to practices, and we made the long trip to Prescott, Arizona, for the all-star game. As a result of his illness, Ty was the smallest player in weight on the field, but his effort helped bring his team to victory.
After the game, he came jogging off the field, covered in sweat, but beaming that wide, white smile. Ty got his buddy by the shoulders and they chatted about the game as I took pictures. He told Weslon, “Stay right here. I have to go get something.” A little later he came dashing back. In his hand was his all-star cap awarded him for playing in the game. He told Weslon, “I want you to have this. Thank you for coming to my game, buddy.”
Ty has been an inspiration to many. He was awarded the first “Ty Workman Award” at Round Valley High School. This award is presented each year now to a student conquering adversity.
December 1987 came and with it Ty’s call to the North Carolina Charlotte Mission. In his talk he mentioned, “I have a little friend here who is really special to me. He is Weslon Whiting.” It was a very emotional meeting for us all.
Ty has filled an honorable mission. He continued to remember his little buddy, writing letters in the same spirit as he used to talk to Weslon. Instead of thinking of the joy he has brought to a small boy he turns the situation around. For example, one sentence will stay in my memory for a long time: “Weslon,” Ty wrote, “you’ve been a big help in my life, more than you’ll ever know.” With each letter he sent to his little buddy he enclosed a coin or two for Weslon’s missionary fund.
Three years have passed since Ty was not expected to live. I thank this exceptional young man for giving me faith in a younger generation. And I thank him for providing my young son with a shining example of a true hero.

In Popayán, Alfonso Tenorio is a doctor who also publishes a scholarly medical journal. In addition he works with his wife, Lucía, in their spacious garden behind his father’s house. They help in his aunts’ gardens. They check the work LDS young men are doing in gardens they’ve planted at a Catholic school. They speak to city groups and service clubs, promoting home gardens. Largely through the Tenorios’ efforts, gardens have become fashionable in many Popayán households. “We see our efforts as a way to help friends and neighbors become self-reliant so we will all be able to eat in times of trouble,” says Alfonso.

It was a pretty predictable Father’s Day. My husband had exclaimed over his new tie. There were squeals and hugs from our two little girls. The sacrament meeting speakers had paid tribute to righteous, loving fathers. And, to end this year’s rendition of “I’m So Glad When Daddy Comes Home,” the Primary children had thrown resounding kisses in the general direction of their adoring daddies. We smiled and began filing out of the chapel for our next meeting.
Then I saw Jenny, her face red and wet. Talented, cheerful, faithful Jenny—she was the kind of Laurel every mother hopes her daughters will grow up to be. Why was she crying? Because Jenny’s parents were divorced when she was small. And because hearing about the ideal family hurts when the ideal is what you want the most—and what you don’t have.
Jenny’s tears brought back a flood of memories for me. I remembered trying to make it all the way through the first verse of “Love at Home” (Hymns, 1985, number 294). But every time we hit “Time doth softly, sweetly glide,” my voice would crack—along with my composure. At my house, time rarely glided. It lurched from one emotional blowup to the next. In between, my brother and sisters and I walked on tiptoe, our nerves tightly strung. I guess we thought that if we were careful enough, maybe we could avoid setting off the next explosion. We could never be careful enough. And always the brief sunshine was followed by a terrifying storm of rage that threatened to swallow us up.
At times, the unthinkable fear came to the surface: maybe we would never be an eternal family. Over the years, that fear grew into a terrifying certainty. My clearest, most cherished childhood memory—of being sealed to my parents shortly after we had joined the Church—would ultimately mean nothing.
When my parents were divorced, I was in my twenties. But still I felt like a frightened child. All the happy parts of my past life with my family seemed suddenly canceled out—invalidated—no longer relevant. What joy could the present hold for me or for those I loved? And eternity? I felt eternally orphaned.
As I’ve grown older, understanding and peace have healed some of the wounds in my soul. And one of my greatest desires is to offer some of the peace I’ve found to those of you who are living in turbulent, unhappy families.
“If you aren’t happy, you are doing something wrong.” I’m sure when my Sunday School teacher told us this, he never imagined how I would misinterpret it. I wrote it down and posted it on my mirror, knowing I wasn’t very happy. I cried in my room many nights—out of fear, disappointment, and self-pity. So I began to feel that I must be doing something terribly wrong. Even though I couldn’t exactly pinpoint it, I knew I must have some fatal flaw.
Of course, I wasn’t perfect as a teenager. But now I know that my feelings of unworthiness were not justified. Most of my sorrow came from the choices of others. And their choices were almost completely beyond my control. I was a child in my family. And as a child, I was not responsible for the overall success or failure of my family. Nor was I responsible for my parents’ choices.
The same is true for you. You may have an alcoholic parent or parents who fight or parents who violate the commandments. True, you need to do your best to not be part of the problem, but try not to complicate your situation with false feelings of guilt.
Sometimes making it through a divorce or another kind of family difficulty is a matter of simply hanging on. Hang on to the reality that your Heavenly Father loves you and your family deeply and eternally.
Often, my prayers for my family seemed to go unanswered. Sometimes, the more I prayed, the worse things seemed to get. I didn’t know then that, though the Lord shares our sorrow, he will not force change. But over time, his love can often find a way to bring even greater blessings than we had prayed for. So many of those fervent prayers of long ago have now been answered. And I now know that he has never ceased trying to bless my loved ones.
Hang on to the scriptures that fill you with faith. For example, “Let your hearts be comforted; for all things shall work together for good to them that walk uprightly” (D&C 100:15).
Find music that feeds your spirit. Many nights I found peace by singing to myself hymns and songs about courage and endurance.
If your family’s unhappiness includes abuse—physical, sexual, or emotional—you may need to ask for help. Find an adult—a parent, Church leader, social worker, school counselor, or physician—whom you trust and who will take you seriously. This may be embarrassing and very difficult. But sometimes intervention from outside the family is needed to protect you and other family members.
Hang on to leaders and friends who encourage you and help you keep your faith and standards.
Hang on to your patriarchal blessing and the vision of yourself it gives you. Its promises, however distant they may seem, are real and eternal. The Lord knew all about your present difficulties when he gave those promises, and they will be fulfilled.
Hang on to the reality that you are not alone in your situation. As a teenager, I felt that my family and our problems were unique. When my best friend spent time at my house, I worried that she would notice what I wanted to hide. Not until we were adults did I discover that her family had problems very similar to mine.
Don’t be fooled by appearances. The most confident, witty, and popular of your friends may face problems even greater than yours. Even the most faithful families may have deep challenges. Knowing this can help you break out of the prison of being totally absorbed with your own problems. Let it also prompt you to reach out in love to your friends, even when your own problems seem great.
In times of difficulty, how can we possibly keep a positive attitude? In August 1831, the Prophet Joseph Smith and 10 elders were returning to Kirtland, Ohio, from a missionary journey to Jackson County, Missouri. On the third day of their trip, they had a perilous canoe ride down the Missouri River. They must have been tired and shaken, possibly homesick as well. Then the Lord reassured them with these gentle words: “Be of good cheer, little children; for I am in your midst, and I have not forsaken you” (D&C 61:36).
We, too, can be assured that the Lord will never leave us alone. During my teenage years, I did not always recognize his presence. Now I know that when my way was the most perilous, he was always with me.
We need to know also that our Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation is infinitely more just and merciful than we can possibly comprehend. He will leave nothing undone for the blessing of his children. Truly, there are no eternal orphans in his loving plan.
Although we must live in the present, we can also live for the future. We can live for the day when we can go to the temple to receive greater understanding and blessings than we now enjoy. We can live for the day when we can make a home of our own—a home where we can strive to bring love, peace, and the Spirit. We can also live for the day when we can nurture others as we may not have been nurtured ourselves.
For me, this day has come at last. I know that it can come for you.

Dear brothers and sisters, this is very humbling, and I pray sincerely for the Spirit of the Lord to sustain me. Since being called as a General Authority last April, I have developed a greater love for the gospel of Jesus Christ and a much deeper appreciation and love for a great and wonderful wife who has stood by my side through every facet of married life. I am grateful for our five children who sustain us and live as they should, and thankful for parents who taught correct principles and set a marvelous pattern for us to follow. I have learned to love and appreciate good men and women who have influenced my life and stood by my side through many Church callings.
I am most thankful to a kind Father in Heaven for the privilege of serving in the Area Presidency of the South Pacific Islands under the leadership and direction of a great and spiritual leader, Elder Robert L. Simpson, and of being one with a counselor, companion, and friend, Elder Philip T. Sonntag. What a thrill it has been in the last month to participate in the dedication of a beautiful temple in faraway Australia, and to see thousands of wonderful Saints as they came from all corners of that great land and raised their voices in song and prayer and appreciation—true evidence that temples are being built in many countries across the face of the earth and that thousands of righteous men and women and children will visit them to be sealed together in family units for time and for all eternity.
We visited the Saints in New Zealand and felt the same sweet spirit. Our spirits were lifted and our testimonies strengthened. What a privilege to participate in the dedication of the first LDS chapel in Papua, New Guinea—where 450 wonderful native people sat with tear-filled eyes as President Robert L. Simpson dedicated their beautiful building. A handsome young New Guinean stood in that meeting with a Book of Mormon in one hand and a Bible in the other; he held them high above his head and bore a strong witness and testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ to his people. We thrilled after traveling sixty-five miles to a jungle village to witness the faith and testimony of our members there. They gave us gifts that had been handed down from generation to generation because we represented the gospel they love so much. And we gave a prayer and blessing on their village before we left. Tears filled our eyes as we saw President Kimball’s picture hanging in a building in far-off New Guinea.
We felt the spirit of missionary work as we literally watched the prophecies unfold that the gospel of Jesus Christ should be taken to every nation, kindred, tongue, and people. (See Mosiah 15:28.) I am grateful for the spirit of the gospel, the spirit of missionary work, and the spiritual leadership of great latter-day leaders. I support and sustain them with all my heart.

As a publisher and printer, I had the opportunity to assist President J. Reuben Clark in the preparation of his manuscript which became the monumental book Our Lord of the Gospels. What a blessing was mine to learn daily at the feet of such a master teacher and principle architect of the welfare program. Knowing that I was a newly appointed bishop presiding over a difficult ward, he emphasized the need for me to know my people, to understand their circumstances, and to minister to their needs. One day he recounted the example of the Savior as recorded in the Gospel of Luke:
“And it came to pass … that he went into a city called Nain; and many of his disciples went with him. …
“When he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. …
“And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not.
“And he came and touched the bier. … And he said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise.
“And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother.” (Luke 7:11–15.)
When President Clark closed the Bible, I noticed that he was weeping. In a quiet voice, he said, “Tom, be kind to the widow and look after the poor.”

On one occasion a Church leader was confronted by a grieving parent who wanted one of God’s commandments softened to accommodate a wayward child who had been disciplined by the Church. In his grief the parent had suggested that the Church leader was unchristian in denying the child the full benefits of membership in the Church.

The Church leader shared the sorrow of the parents and the child, but he remained loyal to the commandments of the Lord. In response to the accusation of not being a Christian, the leader said, “If I were to attempt to change the commandments, at that very moment I would no longer be following Christ’s teachings.”

“She has only 24 hours to live, and even if she makes it, she will be paralyzed from the eyes down with no chance of recovery.” This was the bleak verdict doctors presented to my family in March 2004. At only 30 years of age, I had suffered a stroke that left me unable to speak or move. Yet in those dark, lonely hours, experiences from my previous calling as a Primary music leader gave me hope.
I have always loved music and felt strength in the words of the hymns. Yet prior to my stroke, when I was called to be the ward’s Primary music leader, I was very apprehensive. How was I supposed to make a difference in the children’s lives? My music education background had taught me to set goals in my teaching, so I decided to try to help the children feel the Spirit as we sang. When we sang songs such as “I Lived in Heaven,” I was astonished by the strong presence of the Holy Ghost in the room and by the children’s deep, thoughtful questions about the lyrics.
One of my favorite teaching methods was using American Sign Language (ASL). I found that the children understood the songs better when we discussed how the signs offered a visual representation of the words. I really enjoyed hearing the children sing and watching them sign “I’m Trying to Be like Jesus.” The message rang true in my heart, and I often felt that I was the benefactor of the Spirit that the children invited. I could sense my testimony growing, and I truly felt blessed by the Lord.
The blessings of my calling as Primary music leader were not limited to the Primary room, though. With the calling came the need to practice and play the music at home so I would be prepared each Sunday. As a result, my own children’s love for Primary music increased. The words of these songs brought a peaceful, calm spirit, comforting our children when they were hurt and lulling them to sleep each night. They insisted on listening to the Children’s Songbook CDs in the car—even if the ride was just a short one—and consequently began to memorize many of the songs.
However, it was not until after my stroke that I was aware of the far-reaching effects of this music in my life. With so much recent experience singing Primary songs, I found they were what kept me going during my trials. During my darkest hours I would pray and sing “A Child’s Prayer” in my head. As I cried out like the child of the first verse, “Heavenly Father, are you really there?” He would mercifully answer by reassuring me that I was not alone and that He was there, as stated in the second verse of the song. What a strength and reassurance!
During the recovery process, my husband and children came to my hospital room to hold family home evenings and frequently sang “Love Is Spoken Here.” That was the last song I had taught in Primary, and it was wonderful to hear my children sing it, knowing that I had planted those seeds. As they sang, I could relate to the mother in the song, praying on her knees (how I wished that I too could kneel!). Her pleas to Heavenly Father were also mine. I also shared the same gratitude for priesthood authority in my home. While I could not voice these thoughts to my family, the Primary song voiced these feelings for me.
It has been nearly four years since I suffered my stroke, and I have been able to regain far more abilities than the doctors expected I ever would. I have a small amount of movement in my right arm, which allows me to type on my computer and operate a powered wheelchair. I use a modified form of ASL—which I first learned in my Primary calling—to communicate. Because of this, I can still “sing” Primary songs with my children and express my feelings to family and friends.
Before my stroke I had always planned on singing at my children’s baptisms. In August 2005 my oldest child, Zach, was baptized. I was able to use my right hand to plunk out “When I Am Baptized” while my husband supported me at the piano bench. It felt good to express my deepest feelings about baptism through music and in a way that Zach would understand.
When I began serving as a Primary music leader, I did not think the calling would benefit me. Yet it plainly has! The Primary songs have blessed me with a better understanding of gospel principles, a strengthened testimony, the ability to communicate with my family, and the strength to persevere. The words and melody of Primary songs may be simple, but the message and the power of each one are clear.
We may not always understand why the Lord has given us a particular assignment. Even so, we must trust the Lord and put our faith in Him and His promptings. I am so grateful I was a Primary music leader before my stroke! The songs I can no longer sing can still communicate my feelings of the gospel to others. Every time I hear my children sing Primary songs, I know that their testimonies are being strengthened and that they share my love for the Lord and His gospel.

When I was a teenager, I got really sick. My parents didn’t have enough money to send me to the hospital, so we went from church to church looking for someone to help, but no one could. After a while we gave up, and I was left suffering both physically and emotionally.
I remember asking, “What is the purpose of life? Why am I here? Are miracles even real?”
When I had a little bit of strength during this sickness, I would read religious books from different denominations, trying to find answers and peace. One day I silently prayed to God, telling Him the desire I had to join a church—but I didn’t know which one!
A year later I recovered physically but still had many questions. One day I saw my brother talking to two young men wearing white shirts. They invited me and the rest of my siblings to join their conversation.
This was the first time I heard about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and the Book of Mormon.
That same week, we were invited to attend a church service, and soon I was invited to be baptized. I accepted without hesitation. I’ve been a member ever since and eventually had the privilege of serving a full-time mission.

In the Brazil São Paulo South Mission there was an Elder Malheiros who entered into the field not being able to read or write very proficiently. He was even a little fearful of giving a prayer in public. But this young man, according to his mission president, Wilford Cardon, became one of the very greatest missionaries imaginable. The president asked him toward the end of his mission how he had turned into such a dynamic, very successful missionary. (He had baptized more than two hundred people and had baptized every week for fifty-two consecutive weeks.) In a very humble manner Elder Malheiros answered, “Well, president, I never doubted you. You said one could baptize every week, so I knew I could baptize every week. I never doubted. It was not always easy, but I tried to obey.”

In the city of Bangalore the Roshan family was introduced to the gospel through an uncle. At the time, Rakesh, 18, or “Rocky” as everyone calls him, was the only family member to be baptized. He wasn’t serious at first, but as he attended church, read the scriptures, and heard the testimonies of others, he gained a testimony of his own. After his baptism, however, Rocky became somewhat inactive and the elders began to visit the family regularly again. This led to the baptism of Rocky’s older brother, Dinesh, whose example of faithfulness and love not only led Rocky back into activity, but led their parents to the waters of baptism also.

The workbook, Addiction Recovery Program: A Guide to Addiction Recovery and Healing (item no. 36764), outlines the 12 steps and the principles associated with them. Each step has a scripture study section with questions to ponder and space for writing. One participant says that the straightforward approach of the 12 steps gave him hope. By the time Clifford awoke from a coma caused by a drug overdose, his marriage and career had ended. He wondered how he could ever put his life back together. “To have the gospel in little bite-sized steps, 12 of them—I could do that,” he says.
Many say that steps four and five, which focus on personal inventory and confession, are the most challenging. But it depends on the individual. Paula, who struggled with compulsive eating and overdependence in her relationships, worked hardest on step eight—forgiving and restoring relationships—as she tried to forgive her abusive father. She says now, “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for this miracle in my life: to love and forgive.”
The change that has happened to me is I’m not miserable all the time. Sometimes it’s not easy. Perhaps the Lord doesn’t see fit to take it all from me right now, but He strengthens me so I can bear it patiently and cheerfully, and I can progress. He lightens it just enough that I learn the most that I can.
The gospel teaches that grace comes through the Atonement of Jesus Christ (see Ether 12:27). Grace is an enabling power that makes recovery possible. It is “divine means of help or strength” that helps us do good works we wouldn’t be able to do or maintain by ourselves.2
Suzanne, who went through the program herself before becoming a Church-service missionary, says, “I knew that God could tell me what to do, but I never knew He had the power to help me do it. Now I understand the grace that comes through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.”
Through grace, participants regain the hope they have lost. One participant, Edward, grew up in the Church, but his childhood insecurities left him feeling that he wasn’t as good as other people. He says, “I didn’t understand the Atonement, and I didn’t love myself, so nothing really mattered.” When he was in his 20s, he started drinking and using drugs in an attempt to dull his negative feelings—a pattern that continued for 20 years.
When he was arrested a second time for drunk driving, he was ordered to get treatment. In the Church’s program, he learned that receiving forgiveness and regaining a sense of self-worth were possible. He attended church every Sunday, studied the 12 steps, and applied these gospel principles and actions to his life. He became willing to turn his life over to Heavenly Father and, in the process, learned how to love himself and how to let the Atonement work in his life. “I couldn’t overcome all these things by myself,” he says. “The Savior can do for me what I can’t do for myself.”
Those who struggle with addiction aren’t the only ones who can experience a mighty change: loved ones find that as they apply the 12 steps to their own lives and attend recovery meetings, they can experience the blessings of the Atonement in regard to their own grief. In some areas the addiction recovery program provides support groups for family and friends, who discover that the Savior can heal them of the pain, anger, and guilt that loved ones sometimes feel.
When Deborah learned of her son’s drug addiction, she was plagued by feelings of guilt as she thought about how she could have been a better mother. Then she discovered that she could apply the steps to herself. She says, “What I learned in the program is that no matter how my son is doing, I can still be happy and have Heavenly Father in my life.” She adds, “On the outside I look the same, but my life has completely changed on the inside.”
Shannon, whose husband faced a pornography addiction, attended the support group for spouses. As she participated, she noticed a change in herself as well. At first she focused on the pain she felt over her husband’s addiction. But then, as she started learning and applying the steps, a miraculous change occurred. She says, “I began talking less and less about my husband and more about what I had learned from each step. I began to see how the Lord was working in my life.”
In the past I was able to abstain for periods of time. I’d get myself back in good standing with the Church and serve in callings, and everyone would tell me how great I was. But I didn’t feel great on the inside at all. And that’s why abstaining is just one part of it. True recovery is not doing it and not wanting to do it because our nature is changed.
Mark learned that through the Atonement, individuals can not only stop their addictive behaviors but also heal the underlying causes of their addiction. And with the help of their priesthood leaders, they can repent and bring the blessings of the gospel back into their lives. Doug LeCheminant of LDS Family Services clarifies the objective of the program: “Our end goal for those in the program is that they will be able to make and keep temple covenants—not just stay sober.” The sweetest fruits are activation, baptism or rebaptism, priesthood advancement, temple ordinances, and restoration of blessings.
Steve, who found himself in jail wearing his church suit, says, “Today I’m clean and sober because of my Heavenly Father and the 12 steps.” His activity in the Church is especially meaningful to him. “I am a father. I am a priests quorum adviser. I am also a facilitator because I want to give back to a program that gave so freely to me.”
Every day I seek my Heavenly Father in prayer and through the scriptures. In the morning I read books about recovery, and I write my feelings and my impressions. I call a support person in the program to help clarify my thinking. I go to the meetings. I try to serve. And I have never relapsed on a day that I have done those things.
Those daily tasks keep Mark spiritually well. Others who have been through the program have discovered the same truth: maintaining spiritual strength requires continuous effort. No one is completely safe from relapse, but through daily gospel living, those who struggle with addiction come unto Christ and receive strength and hope.
“I’m learning bit by bit, precept upon precept,” says Mark. “My nature is changing, and it’s the first time since this started that I can say I have hope. I truly believe that I never have to relapse again.”

Just before my eleventh birthday, British and Australian troops and American paratroopers liberated us. Our property had been confiscated in the civil war between the Dutch and the Indonesians, so we had no home to return to. We stayed in a refugee camp, waiting for my older brother to recover from cholera. My father had needed immediate medical aid and had been shipped to Holland with the wounded Dutch soldiers. He lived only a short time after the rest of us reached Amsterdam.
My mother was left to find what work she could to sustain herself and her six living children. Penniless, we lived in a tiny apartment furnished with old wooden boxes. Life was not easy, and although my mother longed to make our existence more comfortable, she did not have the means to do so.
On my sixteenth birthday, as I was cleaning out a closet, I came across Pop Mientje, safely tucked away on the shelf. She was dirty; she had been a victim of my airsickness in a cargo airplane, and she had been in the mud under me as we sought cover when our truck was shot at by the Indonesians.
I decided to clean her up. As I scrubbed her with a brush, her clothes, which were sewn to her body, disintegrated. Unwilling to abandon her, I began the job of reconstruction. But as I reached into the stuffing, it yielded more than soft cotton. Pop Mientje spilled forth the treasure she had carried all these years: diamonds, rubies, pearls, jade, and various rings. How had my old rag doll been made the guardian of such precious goods?
The discovery of the jewels changed our lives. The proceeds from their sale first brought us warm clothing and furniture to make our lives more comfortable. Eventually they enabled us to obtain higher education. The training I received because of Pop Mientje’s treasures meant better employment and higher wages, both in Amsterdam and later in America.

For example, years ago, on a small island in Tonga there lived an elderly sister by the name of Vaikato Tavutu. One day a group of Tongan building missionaries came to the island to erect a chapel. After they arrived, they discovered that this sister knew all the details for the design and layout of the building. The missionaries could not understand how she knew all this without ever seeing the blueprints. It turns out that decades before the building missionaries arrived, Sister Tavutu was experiencing an illness when the apostle, George Albert Smith, visited the tiny island and gave Sister Tavutu a priesthood blessing.

During the blessing sister Tavutu said she was able to understand all the words in her own tongue and he promised her that if she would be faithful, she would live to see a beautiful chapel erected on her island. She saw this chapel in a vision and saw that it would have a “gold steeple that shone in the sunlight.”

The supervising labor missionary went on to say:

“One day [many years after her vision, Sister Tavutu] became very ill. Her brother went to her and told her she had better repent of her sins and confess her lies [about her vision about the chapel which had never come]. He told her she knew that she had told lies all those years and now she was going to die with that on her conscience. Well, Vaikato recovered; and after many years, her vision was fulfilled.

“Vaikato was not certain of her age but thought she might be 102 or so. She was on the work site each morning helping to fill the barrels with water with which to mix the mortar; she was also carrying the coral bricks to the builders. I spoke to her through an interpreter and told her not to carry the water. The buckets were too heavy for her and the men could do it. I also asked her to please only carry one brick at a time, as they were about the size of our cinder blocks. However, as soon as I was out of sight, she started carrying two bricks at a time again. One of the Tongan builders came to me and asked for some gloves for Vaikato because her hands were bleeding from the rough blocks. I got down from the scaffold and went to the lady, admonishing her again through the interpreter to only carry one brick at a time. I took off my gloves and gave them to her.

“The tears started running down Vaikato’s cheeks, and I thought I had wounded her feelings. Then I noticed the tears rolling down the interpreter’s face. He told me: ‘The little lady said that the Savior’s hands had bled for her and that she was not ashamed to have her hands bleed for the Savior’s work.’” (Eric Shumway, Tongan Saints: Legacy of Faith, 178-180).

Eventually, I started to go to church with them. On Christmas day of 1989, the Wallace children decided to give me a Book of Mormon as a gift. I began meeting with the missionaries. I still remember reading the book and although I did not understand everything at that time, I kept on reading because the missionaries said that I could pray and ask God if it was true.

One night I finished reading Moroni’s promise:
“And when ye shall receive these things (meaning the words in the Book of Mormon), I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.” (Moroni 10:4).

I decided right there and then to kneel down and ask God if the book was true. I still remember that night like it was yesterday. I slept on the lower bunk of the bed and Christopher, the Wallace’s son, slept on the top bunk.

I put the Book of Mormon down and knelt along the bedside and offered a very simple but sincere prayer:
“Heavenly Father, is this book true because if it is, then I want to join this church. If it isn’t, then I don’t want to join it.”

I closed my prayer and …nothing happened! I remember very distinctly thinking, “I will pray again tomorrow and ask again if it is true.” As soon as I thought this, I felt a very strong burning in my heart that spread throughout my entire body, from the tips of my fingers to my toes, I could not deny that power radiating throughout my body. I had never felt anything like that before. I knew it was God’s answer.

The next day, I called the missionaries and a week later, I was baptized. I was 16 years old. On the day of my baptism, my mother and my stepdad (my mom had remarried years earlier to a wonderful man, Larry Latham) both flew up to see me and to attend my baptism. I said to my mother, in Cantonese... which means Mom, can you please forgive me.

My mother replied, “Look at all these people who have come here to celebrate your change, how can I as your own mother, not forgive you.” The day after I was baptized, I flew back to California with my parents. On my first Sunday back, all of a sudden this guy appears at my door! It was Brian Andre, the young men’s president from Santa Ana 1st ward coming to take me to church! From this moment on everything changed for me.

I remember when I was quite a lad (and that’s remembering a long way back) what my mother said to me when I went to go on my mission in 1904 (and that’s before some of you were born). She said, “My boy, you are going a long ways away from me now. Do you remember that when you were a little lad you used to have bad dreams and get frightened? Your bedroom was just off mine, and frequently you would cry out in the night and say, ‘Mother, are you there?’ And I would answer, ‘Yes, my boy, I’m here—everything is all right. Turn over and go to sleep.’ You always did. Knowing that I was there gave you courage.

“Now,” she said, “you will be about 6,000 miles away, and though you may cry out for me, I cannot answer you.” She added this: “There is one who can, and if you call to Him, He will hear you when you call. He will respond to your appeal. You just say, ‘Father, are you there?’ And there will come into your heart the comfort and solace such as you knew as a boy when I answered you.”

I want to say to you young people that many times since then, in many and varying conditions, I have cried out, “Father, are you there?” I made that plea in the mission field when we were mobbed almost every night, driven from place to place. We were beaten and expelled from cities; our lives were threatened. Every time before I went out to those meetings, I would say, “Father, are you there?” And though I didn’t hear a voice and though I didn’t see His person, I want to tell you young people that He replied to me with the comfort and assurance and testimony of His presence. It made me unafraid, and with that presence, I am grateful to say, we did not suffer much.

As a father I was blessed to see great futures in God’s kingdom for my daughters as well as my sons. When I prayerfully sought guidance, I was shown a way to help my daughters recognize the trust God had placed in them as servants who could build His kingdom.
When my daughters were young, I saw that we could help others feel the love of those beyond the veil, throughout the generations. I knew that love comes from service and inspires hope of life eternal.
So we carved breadboards on which we placed a loaf of homemade bread and went together to deliver our offering to widows, widowers, and families. The legend I carved on each of those breadboards read, “J’aime et J’espere,” French for “I love and I hope.” The evidence of their unique spiritual gifts appeared not just on the boards I carved but more clearly as we distributed them to those who needed, in the midst of pain or loss, reassurance that the love of the Savior and His Atonement could produce a perfect brightness of hope. This is life eternal for my daughters and for each of us.