Gospel Story Finder

One of our fine stake presidents shared with us the following experience:
“I remember a girl that I had gone to high school with. She was from a good LDS family, but when she was a junior in high school, she began to compromise her standards and principles.
“I remember how stunned I was one afternoon as a group of us were in the back of the bus riding home from school. We were talking about the consequences of sin or transgression, and she flatly announced that she wasn’t worried about committing any sin because her bishop had told her she could easily repent and could be quickly forgiven.
“Well, I was shocked with this flippant attitude that didn’t reflect any understanding of repentance or appreciation of the miracle of forgiveness. I was also sure that she had grossly misunderstood the instruction and counsel of her bishop.”

When Todd Budge was a young boy, his parents taught him how to seek the Lord’s will. Throughout his life, he has tried to apply that practice in every decision.
Years later, after he and his wife had settled into a home with five children, he felt spiritual impressions to leave his career in banking and finance. The change would require significant sacrifice for him to become established in a new career.
After much effort and preparation to change careers, Elder Budge met someone uniquely qualified to give him advice. This individual suggested that Elder Budge stay with his banking career, reminding him that he would have many opportunities to counsel and help people. “We need people with integrity in business,” the person told him.
Elder Budge considered that encounter to be a tender mercy from the Lord. “I think He wanted to know where my heart was,” he says. “Once the Lord knew my heart, He did not require the sacrifice, and I trusted that He could use me for His purposes without a career change.”
His career did allow him to be an influence for good in the business world, even to open doors to share the gospel in Japan.

It was an early morning in 2008 when my mother woke me up to go to school. I was really happy that morning, but I didn’t know that it would turn into the worst day of my life or the last time I would be with her. I didn’t finish all my classes that day because a friend of our family picked me up and told me that my mom had killed herself. I was only 12 years old.
I thought, “How can I live without my mother?” She was my best friend.
I cried for months. I didn’t like going to school because the other children treated me differently and felt sorry for me. I had no clue what I was supposed to do; I only knew I had to be strong for everyone else.
One day, five or six months after my mom’s death, I was alone in my room by the window, crying, trying to understand what I was here for. Suddenly I heard a voice in my head: “You are my daughter; I won’t let you suffer.” I knew it was God. But it surprised me because I didn’t believe in Him anymore, especially since I felt that it was God who had taken my mother from me. Even though I didn’t know what He meant, I felt safe.
Three years later I went to Rome, Italy, to visit my uncle. He kept telling me about this church he went to. One Sunday, he took me with him. I will always remember walking toward the church’s doors for the first time and feeling the love of Heavenly Father when I went in. It felt like home.
I started going to church every single Sunday and to every activity during the week. I loved being with the youth of the Church. They made me happier. They thought and believed in the same things that I did. Then, after three months, my summer holiday finished and I had to go back to Albania.
When I returned home, I told my dad about the feelings I’d had and how happy I’d felt during those three months going to Church activities. He didn’t like it. He told me he wouldn’t allow me to continue to go to church. So I would have to be patient for the next three years until I turned 18 years old. Then I could decide for myself and be baptized.
During this time I was blessed with so many people who would tell me about what they learned each Sunday at church. One of those people was Stephanie. She’d been living in Italy when my uncle joined the Church, but she had returned to her home in the United States. My uncle thought it would be good for us to write to each other, so I added her as a friend on Facebook.
Even though we’d never met in person, I will always be grateful to her for helping me build my faith and learn more about the gospel of Jesus Christ. She wrote to me almost every Sunday and told me everything she learned in church and then would answer my questions. She was a great friend to me.
Finally, after years of being patient, I was baptized just two days after my 18th birthday. And soon I will share with my mother the happiness I felt that day, because I will be baptized for her. I know she will be proud of the life I have chosen.
I feel blessed by Heavenly Father because He was with me during my entire journey in so many ways. I just had to wait and be patient because He had a plan for me. He’s the one who gave me strength to go through all the challenges I faced. He was always there, helping me be happier.

Alasdair sat up straighter in his red velvet chair as the lights began to dim. The people in the theater stopped chatting and looked up at the stage. Alasdair’s sister, Sutton, folded her program. Then she caught his eye and smiled. “Ready, Al?” she asked.
Tonight was Alasdair’s first time at the theater. His parents loved to watch plays, and when Sutton turned 10, they started taking her with them. Now Alasdair was finally old enough to go too!
The orchestra began the overture. Then the actors walked out on stage and the show began.
Alasdair loved the play. It had adventure, mystery—and even some great jokes! When the show ended, all the actors came out for their curtain call. As Alasdair joined the applause, he had a good feeling, like he sometimes got in Primary. Was he feeling the Holy Ghost? It can’t be. I’m not at church! Alasdair thought.
Overture—music at the beginning of the play
Curtain call—when the actors take their bow at the end of a play
On the way home, Alasdair sat by Sutton on the subway. “Did you like the play?” she asked as the train rattled through the dark tunnels.
Alasdair nodded. “I loved it!”
“Me too,” Sutton said.
Alasdair thought about how good he had felt during the play. “Sutton,” he said, “when we were watching the play, I felt happy, sort of like I do at church. But the play wasn’t about the gospel!”
“That was the Holy Ghost,” Sutton said as the train stopped and they followed their parents onto the platform. “He can tell us what’s good for us to be around and what isn’t. Did you think the play had a good message?”
“Yes,” Alasdair said. “It was about being kind to other people.”
“Right!” Sutton said as they climbed up the escalator behind their parents. “The Holy Ghost is always there to tell us when things are good for us to be around—not just when we’re at church. We just have to listen.”

I was barely two years old when my mother became seriously ill. Because she had no one to leave me with, she took me with her to the hospital in Tupiza, Bolivia. She died shortly thereafter, leaving me all alone.
During my childhood and early teenage years, I was passed from one place to another, never knowing what it was like to have a family, never receiving any kind of gift—not even for my birthday or for Christmas.
Left on my own, I faced a lot of challenges and dangers while growing up. It was only later that I learned I was never really alone and that an invisible hand was watching over me.
When I was 15, I was invited to live with a Latter-day Saint family. Their daughter, slightly older than I, took me to Mutual. Everyone there welcomed me and paid attention to me. For the first time in my young life, people treated me with love and kindness.
I was introduced to the missionaries, who began teaching me. Soon I realized that I had a loving Heavenly Father, who had protected me throughout my life. I accepted the gospel and was baptized on Christmas Eve 1978. That evening I received my first and still most cherished Christmas gift: membership in the Lord’s Church.
Other gifts followed. Two years later I met a young man who was not a member of the Church. I took him to church with me, and after he made his own baptismal covenants, we were married. Later Heavenly Father blessed my husband and me with three children, who were sealed to us for time and all eternity in the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple.
When I was young, everyone called me “the poor little orphan girl.” When I recall this memory today, I feel grateful because I have the blessing of knowing that I have a Father, who has always loved me. I have also tasted of the Savior’s infinite love. He restored His Church through the Prophet Joseph Smith, who was chosen in the premortal world and labored diligently to translate the Book of Mormon. I know that it contains the fulness of the gospel.
I received my first and best Christmas gift at age 15 and have enjoyed the Lord’s tender mercies ever since. I still feel gratitude in my heart for that gift and strive to keep my gaze fixed on the next life, where I hope to thank the Father and the Son and live forever with my beloved family.

Suppose you are a good singer who really likes to perform. In addition, you dearly love soccer, and this year your team has a good chance of winning the league championship. The trouble is that you have to choose between them. Would it be a hard decision?
“Yes! It was hard!” declared Burke Simmons (10) and Blake Simmons (8), brothers who gave up playing championship soccer in order to join the world-famous Honolulu Boy Choir. Both were auditioned and interviewed by the choir director, Dr. Roy Hallman, before being offered places in the choir. Blake was enthusiastic about joining the choir, but Burke hesitated. He was not sure that he could make friends in such a large group of boys. But when he learned that there were at least ten other boys in the choir who were Latter-day Saints, he put his fears aside, and both brothers became members. Within two months they were singing solo parts and had learned not to be nervous when in the spotlight.
Right from the first it was hard. They had to practice, practice, practice—after school every Monday and Wednesday and on Saturdays. From the beginning they learned that unexcused absences were not permitted and that tardiness had a high price. If a boy is even one minute late for a performance, he is not allowed to sing in that concert. Now the brothers are in the habit of being on time for everything—church, school, and concerts.
Is all the hard work worth it? “Yes!” Burke and Blake both agree. They think that the best part about being in the choir is taking trips and learning about the culture and customs of other countries, although performing is fun too.
Whether at home or traveling, the Boy Choir members are required to obey strict rules of behavior. This applies especially to performances, where absolutely no fidgeting is permitted. Now sitting still in sacrament meeting is easy for Blake and Burke.
Another Boy Choir rule: no bad words are allowed—ever! Blake and Burke like that rule.

Christopher filled his plate with food in the kitchen and retreated to his room. His sister Kaitlyn, a freshman in high school, was having a party for her friends before the stake dance began.
Christopher, two years older, had decided not to go to the stake dance. Instead, he would stay in his room and play video games or go online.
His parents would be attending the dance as chaperones, so he would be alone. He could hardly wait for everyone to leave. Even so, he had a strange feeling. It was the feeling you’d have walking along the top of a steep, ice-covered roof, knowing that, if you start to slip, it would be very difficult to keep from sliding off the roof.
“Not this time,” he said to himself.
He turned on his computer and checked his e-mail. He had two messages from friends he’d found on a chat line. He read each one and sent a reply. He had more online friends now than from school or church.
There was a knock at the door, and then Kaitlyn threw open the door and stuck her head in the room. Standing next to her was one of her friends. She was a good six inches shorter than Christopher, with a long narrow face and dark brown hair.
“Mom and Dad are about to leave. You coming with us?” Kaitlyn asked.
“I don’t think so.”
The phone rang. “I’ll get it!” Kaitlyn shouted, running down the hall.
Christopher stepped out of the room. He was relieved he hadn’t been looking at anything inappropriate, but at the same time, he was embarrassed that he could have been.
“Why is your face so red?” Kaitlyn’s friend asked.
“No reason.”
“You should come to the dance,” she said.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Hannah Banana Happy Piana.”
“That’s your name?”
“Not the Banana Happy Piana part, but my first name is Hannah.”
“Well, it’s always nice to meet one of Kaitlyn’s little friends,” he said sarcastically.
“How come you don’t want to come to the dance?”
“I don’t like to dance, and none of my friends will be there.”
“I’ll be there.”
“So?”
“You could dance with me.”
“No offense, but I’d rather stay home.”
“Stay home and what? Watch a computer screen? Do you know what computer images are? I just learned about it. They’re just a series of 1’s and 0’s. Would you rather spend time with 1’s and 0’s than talking to me?”
“Do you want an honest answer?”
She playfully slugged him on the arm. “Can a bunch of 1’s and 0’s do that?”
“Go away. You’re bothering me.”
“Come to the dance with us. I’ll teach you not to be so boring all the time.”
“Who says I’m boring?”
“Kaitlyn says you scare girls away because you don’t know how to talk to them.”
“That’s not true.” But even as he said it, he realized it had been a long time since he had spent much time with girls.
“I say it is. I say you’re totally hopeless. Anyone can see that.”
“Look, I doubt if you could teach me anything.”
“I could teach you that staying in your room playing with your computer when you could go to a dance is lame. All I’m saying is think about it, okay? We won’t be going for a few more minutes, so you can still change your mind.” And with that, she was gone.
He was glad to get rid of her and could hardly wait for everyone to leave. But at the same time, he felt some dread at what might happen after everyone left—what had happened at other times when he’d been alone.
It was hard for him now to stay away from some Web sites. He had been introduced to pornography at a friend’s house two years earlier. What he saw there was both disgusting and degrading. When he finally got a computer in his room, he had gone to a pornographic Web site just out of curiosity. And now he found himself returning again and again, until it was as if he had no ability to stop himself.
More than once he had promised himself he would never look at those things again. Sometimes he went a day or two, but eventually he found himself returning.
One Sunday, after his bishop had talked to the Aaronic Priesthood about the evils of pornography, he’d gone to his room and prayed. He had poured out his heart to God for help, but nothing seemed to change. And now everyone was about to leave for the dance, and he’d be alone again.
He closed his eyes. “Father in Heaven, please help me. I can’t keep doing what I’ve been doing.”
There was a loud pounding on the door.
“What?”
Hannah threw open the door. “It’s me again! Kaitlyn sent me here to get you for the dance. We worked it all out. You’ll dance every dance with one of us, except for Kaitlyn. She doesn’t want to dance with you. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
Suddenly he was looking at her in a new light, wondering if she could possibly be an answer to his prayers. One thing was for sure, he knew what would happen if he stayed at home.
He stood up. “Give me a minute. I need to change.”
Hannah called out into the hall. “He’s going! I won the bet, Kaitlyn!”
A few minutes later, he went into the living room, where six girls were waiting for him. They all ended up riding in the family van with Christopher’s parents. He sat in the middle with Kaitlyn on his right and Hannah on his left.
“What’s your favorite color?” Hannah asked him.
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, you’ve got to pick one.”
“Why?”
“It’s one of the first things I learn when I meet somebody. You can learn a lot about people if you know their favorite color.”
“What can you learn?”
“Well, for one thing, you’ll know their favorite color!” She started laughing hysterically.
“It wasn’t that funny.”
“It was plenty funny. My favorite color is orange. My bedroom is painted orange. Sometimes I wake up and pretend I’m living inside a pumpkin, like I’m one of the seeds.”
“You are a very strange girl.”
“I like to think of colors as if they had a personality. Like serene green, or true blue, or cheery red. Do you ever do that?”
“No, I never do.”
The dance seemed to have been frozen in time until Hannah showed up with her friends, with Christopher in the middle of them all.
“We’re here, everybody!” Hannah called out. She grabbed Christopher’s hand. “I get the first dance because I got you to come.”
They went out on the dance floor and waited for the next dance to start. The music began. Christopher shuffled his feet.
“Okay, Christopher, start dancing,” Hannah said.
“I am dancing.”
She smiled. “Well, that’s a start. Let me give you some pointers. Watch carefully.”
He watched her dance. It was totally unpredictable.
“You got it?” she asked.
“Got what?”
“Look, just do what I do, okay?”
A few minutes later they returned to the other girls. “Okay,” Hannah said, “now dance with Melissa. You’ve got 10 minutes, and then it’s Sarah’s turn.”
Melissa wasn’t as spontaneous as Hannah, so within a few minutes neither she nor Christopher was saying anything.
He realized he used to be better at talking with girls, but not anymore. Just after an episode with pornography, he felt such guilt that he avoided any wholesome interaction with a girl. But then as time went on and he became tempted again, he couldn’t look at a girl without thinking of her in ways he knew he shouldn’t. It was a vicious cycle that kept repeating over and over again with the net result being that he pulled into himself. Hannah was able to draw him out—but Melissa was a little shy, and he couldn’t seem to make the personal contact by himself.
“Time out!” Hannah shouted. She came out to them. “Melissa, I need to talk to Christopher for a minute, but I’ll get him back to you soon.”
Melissa returned to her friends.
“What’s the deal? You didn’t even talk to Melissa. Okay, we’ll practice. I’ll be Melissa, and you be you. Talk to me.”
“Don’t you think that Hannah is the strangest person in the whole world?” he asked.
Hannah wasn’t amused. “Very funny! Okay, you be Melissa, and I’ll be you.”
“It’s easy to be Melissa,” he said. “All I need to do is stare at the floor and not say anything.”
“Melissa, how many brothers and sisters do you have?” she asked, trying to mimic his voice.
“Four brothers, two sisters,” Christopher said in his highest voice.
“And what are their names?”
“Winken, Blinken, and Nod, Donner, Comet, and Blitzen.”
“Do you have any hobbies, Melissa?” Hannah asked Christopher.
“Yes,” he said in his high voice. “I collect boilers from condemned schools.”
Hannah tried her best not to laugh. “How interesting.”
“I have them in my room.”
“Big room, huh?”
“Yes, and it’s always warm.” They both laughed.
Hannah said, “Do you see how easy it is to carry on a conversation with a girl? You just keep asking questions about her life. But you need to be interested in the answers she gives. Okay, let’s go back in there and see how you do.”
For the rest of the evening, Hannah let him practice what she’d taught him. He danced with Hannah, Kaitlyn, and all their friends. Two hours later the dance was over.
On the way home Kaitlyn turned to Christopher.
“Thanks for being so good with my friends,” she said.
“I had fun,” Christopher responded.
At home they had family prayer and hugged each other, and then everyone separated to get ready for bed. A few minutes later, Christopher entered his room. The first thing he noticed was the computer on his desk. It seemed more like an enemy than a tool.
“Maybe I should check to see if I have any e-mails,” he thought. He sat on his bed and tried to decide what to do. In the past, something as innocent as checking his e-mails late at night had led to him ending up on pornographic Web sites.
“How am I going to make it through the night?” he thought. “And what about tomorrow and the next day and the day after that?”
Out of nowhere, in his mind, he heard Hannah, in her upbeat, cheerful way: “What’s your favorite color?” The thought of asking one of the women on a pornographic site a question like that seemed ridiculous. They wouldn’t answer such a question, and he wouldn’t ask it. They existed in a one-dimensional world where only one thing mattered. And that one thing promised a thrill but gave nothing back but guilt and remorse.
He went to his desk and began to write in his journal:
“From now on I will spend my time with real girls, not with virtual images on a monitor. I’ll ask them what their favorite color is. I’ll ask how many brothers and sisters they have. I’ll ask them what their hobbies are. I’ll dance with them, joke with them, tease and get teased by them, and I’ll laugh with them. I will stay away from virtual girls for the rest of my life.”
He signed it, looked up, and glared at his computer on the desk. He quickly began disconnecting all the cables. A few minutes later, he had set up his computer in the kitchen where anybody coming into the room could see what was on the monitor.
His dad heard him moving about and came into the kitchen. “What are you doing?”
“Dad, do you have a few minutes? There’s something I need to tell you, something I need help with.”
“What is it?”
Christopher lowered his head. He wasn’t even sure he could say the word to his father. He fought to stay in control.
“I need to know so I can help,” his dad said.
Christopher sighed. “It’s pornography, Dad. That’s my problem. I’ve been looking at it in my room, but I want to quit. It’s tearing me apart.”
“Is that why you brought your computer in here?”
“Yes. At first I thought I could just tell myself I wasn’t going to look at it anymore. But that hasn’t worked. The truth is I can’t seem to stop.”
His dad put his hand on Christopher’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you for telling me this.”
“No, Dad. There’s nothing to be proud of when it comes to me.”
“I disagree. You could have gone your whole life trying to hide this from the rest of the world, but you knew you couldn’t live a lie. To me that shows character.”
“I’m out of control. I need help.”
“I’ll be glad to help.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“You’ll need to work with the bishop, too. Because of his calling, he can help you in ways I can’t.”
“He’ll be really disappointed in me.”
“I think he’ll be pleased you want to get rid of this evil in your life.”
They talked until two in the morning. They made a list of actions they could take. Christopher’s dad made it clear that there were some things he would need to keep doing. Things like praying and reading the scriptures, filling his time with positive activities and positive thoughts. An addiction like his isn’t overcome easily, and not without help.
Christopher asked, “Dad, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to or if I’m too unworthy, but could you give me a priesthood blessing?”
“I would very much like to do that.”
“I didn’t know if I should even ask. I haven’t felt much like praying either.”
“Heavenly Father will never turn away from us, no matter what we’ve done.”
After the blessing, they hugged each other and said good night. Christopher returned to his room. It seemed a much safer place without the computer. He knelt once again in prayer and then, a few minutes later, slipped into bed.
He remembered Hannah’s question, “What’s your favorite color?” He smiled. “I know the answer to that question now. My favorite color is true blue.” He felt better at that moment than he’d felt in a long time.

In the last session of October conference, Elder A. Theodore Tuttle gave a touching and inspiring sermon on faith. He spoke from his heart, with scriptures in hand, without a prepared text. When he had concluded, President Hinckley, who conducted that session, said:

“I should perhaps be guilty of an indiscretion, but I think I will risk it and say that Brother Tuttle has been seriously ill and he needs our faith, the faith of which he has spoken. It will be appreciated if those who have listened to him across the Church would plead with our Father in Heaven, in the kind of faith which he has described, in his behalf” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1986, p. 93).

President Ezra Taft Benson, who was the concluding speaker, endorsed what President Hinckley had said and appealed himself for fasting and prayers of faith for the recovery of Brother Tuttle.

But Brother Tuttle did not recover. He died seven weeks later.

Now, lest there be one whose faith was shaken, believing prayers were not answered, or lest there be one who is puzzled that the prophet himself could plead for the entire Church to fast and pray for Brother Tuttle to live and yet he died, I will tell you of an experience.

I had intended to tell this at his funeral, but my feelings were too tender that day to speak of it.

One Sunday when Brother Tuttle was at home, confined mostly to his bed, I spent a few hours with him while Marné and the family went to church.

He was deeply moved by the outpouring of love from across the world. Each letter extended prayers of faith for his recovery. Many of the messages came from South America, where the Tuttle family had labored for so many years.

That day we reviewed his life, beginning with his birth in Manti, Utah, to an ordinary Latter-day Saint couple. We talked of his father, whom I knew, and of his mother, a faithful temple worker.

He talked of his mission, his college days, his marriage to Marné Whitaker, and his heroic service in the Marines.

Then we relived our days teaching seminary in Brigham City and supervising the seminaries and institutes of religion.

He talked of his seven faithful children and the flock of grandchildren whom he always described as “the best kids in the world.”

He spoke of his call to the First Quorum of the Seventy and the assignments that followed. Soon the Tuttle family was called to South America. They were hardly settled back home when the Brethren interviewed him about returning.

Others could say, “Of course, if you should call us, we would go.” But not him, nor Marné, for they had made covenants. Without complaint, his wife and family followed him back time after time for a total of seven years.

No matter that he had never recovered from serious physical troubles which began on his first assignment there. That day Brother Tuttle spoke tenderly of the humble people of Latin America. They who have so little had greatly blessed his life.

He insisted that he did not deserve more blessings, nor did he need them. Others needed them more. And then he told me this: “I talked to the Lord about those prayers for my recovery. I asked if the blessings were mine to do with as I pleased. If that could be so, I told the Lord that I wanted him to take them back from me and give them to those who needed them more.”

He said, “I begged the Lord to take back those blessings and give them to others.”

Brother Tuttle wanted those blessings from our prayers for those struggling souls whom most of us hardly remember, but whom he could not forget.

Now, I know that skeptics may ridicule such things. But I, for one, am content to believe that our prayers were accepted and recorded and redirected to those whose hands hang down in despair, just as Brother Tuttle had requested.

In any case, ought we not to conclude all our prayers with “Let thy will, O Lord, be done”?

I was invited to my best friend’s birthday party and was so excited to go. When Mommy told me it was on Sunday, I thought it might be OK to go since she was my friend. Mommy told me I could go into my room and ask Heavenly Father what I should do. I went into my room and asked Heavenly Father if I should go to the party. I felt that I should just go to church that day. We called my friend’s mommy and told her we wouldn’t be at the party, but would like to have my friend come and play. The next Friday my friend came to my house to play, and we had so much fun! I felt good that I did what Heavenly Father wanted me to do.

I used to see the full-time missionaries back home in Sierra Leone, but I didn’t come close to them because my beliefs were different. Later, when I met them at a bus stop in Washington, D.C., they started telling me about the Savior and how He loves me. They invited me to church, so I went.
The first thing that made me know this is the place I’m supposed to be was the welcome from the members of the Church. A lady hugged me so tight that in my mind I heard, “You are welcome here. You can come back.” I said, “OK.”
The Spirit comes with the missionaries when they enter your house, and they leave it with you. The Spirit works with you and changes you. My change came from the truth of what the missionaries were telling me and the love I felt.
The missionaries taught that Heavenly Father loves me, that I’m His daughter, and that He wants all families together forever. I used to believe that when you die, you go different ways and everybody is separate. But in the Church, we believe you get to see your family again. That touched my heart. I wanted that for me, and I wanted that for my family.

Our daughter, Emily, describes the darkness of an unanswered request for guidance as being in the middle of a room where there is no glimmer of light. She knows there is a light switch, but its whereabouts are a mystery. She is tempted to stay safely rooted where she is, but choosing safety means never finding the light. So she moves tentatively forward feeling carefully for each step determined to find a wall, because light switches are usually on walls.

I watched Emily apply this metaphor when she neared college graduation; interestingly as she felt her way in the dark, she seemed to develop an internal flashlight whose beam was just bright enough to illuminate her next step. She learned to trust, not just in Heavenly Father, but in her own tuition. This type of strength could not occur if Heavenly Father had laid out her steps in bright LED lights.

Recently I heard of an excommunicated man who stormed out of his Church court bitter and unrepentant. Many of us, if we had participated in that court, might have said, “Well good, he’ll have time to make his peace”; and others might even have thought, “Good riddance.” But one of the high councilors present spent three evenings a week for the next several years visiting this man until, mellowed, repentant, and regenerated, he was reinstated in the Church.
“Nothing is so much calculated to lead people to forsake their sin as to take them by the hand, and watch over them with tenderness.”

You have the unique blessing of serving in a Church calling at a very young age. Leadership opportunities abound in young single adult and young married stakes. While serving as a stake and ward leader on campus, I enjoyed associating with fellow students who were faithful in their Church service while being diligent in their secular studies. I observed that the more attention students gave to serving faithfully, the more successful they were in their studies. I learned intimately how our Heavenly Father guides and directs us in ways beyond our abilities and capabilities. I learned to never doubt that I was called by the Lord. Being “willing to take upon [ourselves] the name of [Jesus Christ], and always remember him and keep his commandments” will invoke the covenant promise to “always have his Spirit to be with [us]." [16]

I recall an accounting professor inviting me into his office. In a very kind and loving way, he said, “Aley, your work in my class is mediocre. I know you can do much better. The Lord expects it.” He then expressed his appreciation, love, and counsel. I felt the Holy Ghost testify to me that what he said was true. I left his office feeling uplifted, not hurt or discouraged. His approach was an example of gentleness, meekness, love unfeigned, and kindness. [17] Not only did he change my life to be a better student, he also changed my life to serve more faithfully and diligently as a disciple.

As a bishop I recall a young lady, one Sunday evening, coming in to visit with me. She brought with her boyfriend. She was a senior in High school. They had been involved in a moral problem. They confessed to that moral problem. As they got up to leave, she said to me, "Bishop, I'll never be able to face you tomorrow as I sit on the second row in seminary class." I said to her, "if I cannot look to you eye to eye tomorrow and you feel that I've represented the Lord, and that I've counseled with you as the Lord would have me counsel, then I've failed as your bishop."

I want you to know that I looked to her eye to eye that next day, and I have done throughout my life, and I've had the privilege of watching her and her husband and their children as they've gone to the temple of the Lord together. 1 Peter 2:25 says, "For ye were as sheep going astray; but are now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls."

While on a lecture tour some time ago, I noticed that one of the other lecturers had attended my discussion on adversity for three consecutive days. After the third lecture, she told me, “I’m concerned that I’ve never had a real trial or test in my life. It’s almost frightening to think about it.”

We talked for a while about the fact that we have no control over when trials come to us, only over how we respond to them. I said that we need not seek trials; over a lifetime, we will have our share of them. And although we have been assured that the Lord will not require more of us than we are capable of handling (see 1 Cor. 10:13), we need to prepare by gaining a good understanding of the Lord’s plan and develop a faith that can carry us through our crises.

Little did this good woman realize how soon she would be faced with a tremendous test. Only a few months later, she and her husband stood at the side of a small coffin containing the body of their only son. As her friends mourned the death of the infant, killed in an unexpected farm accident, this woman was the one who lifted their spirits. She and her husband sorrowed, but they did not blame God or others or react bitterly. Rather, they displayed a quiet strength born of the Spirit.

Eighth, be the person you know you are. One student—we’ll call her Amy—found this to be hard. She wrote:

I really loved this guy, and I saw no problem with our relationship. There were problems though. . . . I rationalized [pretended] by saying, “I’m not going to marry him. It’s okay. And besides, I’ll be a good influence.”

I finally could not stand living a lie. I was not being true to myself. [And notice:] I was not acting like the person that I knew I was inside. I needed to make a change in my life.

Amy was letting the illusion of love overpower who she really was. When she saw that illusion shattered, she realized as she said, “Remaining true to yourself and your beliefs is the best joy you can find.”

I recently attended the funeral for one of my boyhood friends. This brother was genetically challenged from birth. He could understand concepts quite well but could not read or write. His speech was limited to a very few identifiable words, along with a jargon all of his own. Some in our group could recognize a few words he spoke. However, we could usually tell from the tone of his words whether he was expressing his concerns or his great capacity to love. Much of Lynn’s early life was spent in a special school away from home. He spent his summers and many holidays at home with his family. For the past 17 years, Lynn, who outlived all of his family, lived in a care center where his many needs could best be met.
Upon Lynn’s death, one of his special friends arranged a funeral to be held in the meetinghouse we attended as boys. Present at the funeral were his dear friends, the staff from the care center, a few ward members who remembered him from many years ago, and about a dozen boyhood friends and their families. Several brethren who had stayed close to Lynn during his long, often lonesome stay at the care center offered tender remarks.
All of our memories were refreshed during the course of the service. One friend recalled that on one occasion our Sunday School teacher invited us to bear our testimonies in class. As he sequentially called upon us, he passed over Lynn, perhaps feeling he could not respond with understanding. With all the righteous indignation Lynn could muster, he let the teacher know he expected his opportunity to express himself. Though we didn’t understand much of what he said, we felt his love and the depth of a great spirit tragically locked in a body that could not fully function. The spirit in that class was very strong!
As the staff and the special friends from the care center expressed their unconditional love, it was very evident that Lynn, in his humble way, had reached out and touched their lives. During the course of the funeral, it was apparent that at least three of our boyhood friends and their families had reached out to minister to Lynn in ways that included regular visits, long automobile rides, invitations to dinners on special occasions, and birthday parties.
When the stories and recollections were complete, we all realized that our physically challenged, loving angel of a friend had given us and the wonderful compassionate families who reached out so often in love, far more of real value than he had ever received.

The meaning of church to most people is a little different from what it means to me. Where I live, on a remote island of Alaska, church consists of only two LDS families. We meet together for an hour each week to partake of the sacrament and participate in talks, prayers, and questions. My dad is the branch president, and my family and the other family take turns hosting the Sunday meeting in our homes.
At first I didn’t like church. Maybe it was because I was the only teenage girl on the island who attended. Or maybe it was because I really didn’t understand the Church and had doubts about it. Was the Church true? Did God care? And most of all, What would happen to me when I died?
For a while, I read the Book of Mormon and never seemed to get anywhere. Satan seemed to be doing all he could to keep me from gaining a testimony.
One day I came home from school very upset. I had forgotten my lunch, and my best friend and I had had an argument. I ran to my room, flopped onto my bed, and started crying.
As my tears ceased, I noticed I had left my triple combination of the scriptures on my desk. As I picked it up to put it away, my eye caught a verse I had underlined. I read in Doctrine and Covenants 18:10–11: “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God;
“For, behold, the Lord your Redeemer suffered death in the flesh; wherefore he suffered the pain of all men, that all men might repent and come unto him.” [D&C 18:10–11]
Suddenly I realized that Christ loved me and that I wanted to know him better. I had expected my testimony to be given to me. I know now that I’m not going to get my testimony from my parents or grandparents, or from my brothers and sisters. I have to search, ponder, and pray. But if I have faith, the Savior will help me, and together we will find my testimony.

Mom took one look at Josh’s face as he laid his schoolbooks on the table, and knew that it had happened again. She longed to take him on her lap and comfort him, but she knew that he would consider it “little-kid stuff.” After all, as he had informed her many times, he was now nine years old and too grown-up for such things. So she sighed and asked, “What happened this time?”
“Aw, that Tommy just looks for reasons to start fights. Joey and Billy and I were playing marbles, and he came and kicked our marbles out of the circle. It made us all mad. I remembered what you said about forgiving, though.” He looked at her soberly. “But Joey and Billy started hitting him, and when I tried to break it up, Tommy started pounding on me. He’s bigger than I am, and he got me down in the dirt.”
His mother regarded his torn pants and dirt-smeared face. “Son, I guess there will always be bullies in the world. But there is usually a reason for them being that way. What do you know about Tommy’s home life? Maybe he gets picked on there.”
“Well, I know that his folks are pretty poor. At least, his clothes are always too big for him. And somebody said they heard his dad yelling at him and talking bad to him. But that isn’t why nobody likes him, Mom. It’s because all he wants to do is start trouble.”
“Maybe he would just like to have a friend,” Mom said gently.
“How can he expect to have a friend when he picks on everybody?”
“I’ve discovered through the years that some of the people who act the worst are really crying out for attention. They’re the ones we should try to befriend.”
Josh looked doubtful. “He won’t let anybody be nice to him. He just says bad things and starts fights whenever anyone tries.”
“And people get mad and stop trying—right?”
“Right. But I did try today ’cause I remembered what you told me and what our Primary teacher told us last Sunday. So I forgave him. But look what happened—he beat me up!”
“Do you remember how many times you’re supposed to forgive, Josh?”
“Sister Price said that Jesus Christ told this one guy that he had to forgive seventy times seven times. She had us multiply it out on the chalkboard, and it came to 490 times!” He looked up at his mother with a lopsided grin. “Does that mean I have to let Tommy beat me up 490 times? There won’t be much left of me by then.”
“Of course not. You’re supposed to be doing something to make him not want to beat you up.”
“That’s the same thing Sister Price told us.” He frowned. “That’s easy for her to say, because she doesn’t have anyone like Tommy that she has to keep forgiving. And you don’t, either, do you, Mom?”
Josh didn’t say anything right away, but after a few moments, he asked, “Would it be OK if I gave away some of my marbles?” When she nodded, he said, “I’ll call Joey and Billy and see if they’ll give him some too.”
The next morning as Josh left for school with an extra bag of marbles, Mom prayed that his experience would be a good one. That afternoon, a happy Josh rushed into the kitchen. “It worked, Mom! It worked! Joey and Billy and I asked Tommy to play marbles with us, and we said we’d give him some of ours. Tommy acted just like that girl, Ellen, acted—kind of scared and suspicious.
“He asked why, and when we said we’d like to have him for a friend, he said he didn’t have any friends. After we played marbles awhile, he said he was sorry he’d been so mean. We played both recesses and at noon. Can I ask him to come play some Saturday, Mom?”
“Of course.”
He was silent for a moment, then said, “You know, I think that Jesus Christ knew that if we truly forgive someone, we probably won’t need to forgive them 490 times!”
“Yes, Son, I think you have it exactly right.”

Perhaps Scott has learned there is always somebody watching. On the rink it may be a scout or a future coach. In life it could be anybody.
“When Scott played on the Southern Alberta Select Team,” says Mary, “the coach told the team they needed to drink coffee to get going for the games. Scott and another LDS player wouldn’t.”
Scott smiles. “The funny thing was all the other kids ordered coffee, but they ordered caffeine free.”