Gospel Story Finder

Soon after the end of the cross-country season, Doug was called to serve a mission in El Salvador. His track career was a little shaky at best, and he had no particular reason to think that a two-year absence would improve it much, but his desire to follow the counsel of the General Authorities was strong. As he served the people of El Salvador through his calling, he began to change in many ways. He began to have a different perspective on sports and life in general.
“When you look at a high school athlete, he grows up with sports. He eats it and drinks it. That’s his life—everything. As you grow up a little more, you find out there’s a little more to life, and then you go on a mission and find out you don’t have to run and compete to be successful and to feel important as a person. Then your emphasis changes, and running isn’t necessary anymore. Many times sports are a means by which individuals can gain self-confidence and self-esteem. Many people go through an identity crisis. How important are they as an individual? As you go on a mission you realize that the Lord loves you and cares about you and is concerned with your being a good person regardless of how you are athletically. You come to realize that your relationship with people, school, your church callings, a number of things—all are important, not just athletics. You become a little more aware of life.
“I was always very small in high school and had little self-confidence, but now my confidence is in the Lord.”
The two years in El Salvador proved to be a blessing athletically. Even though Doug had little opportunity to run in the mission field, his body had a chance to mature. He returned stronger and faster than when he left. He was the 23rd American finisher in the NCAA cross-country championships that year, earning all-American honors. He was also part of a distance medley team that took second in the nation.

Whether we are teaching in the home or in the Church, we must keep a clear vision of the gospel’s eternal purpose. Not long ago I experienced the kind of faith and spiritual strength the gospel provides when an 18-year-old sister, who was fighting for her life in a battle with cancer, asked me for a blessing. She said: “Brother Ballard, I am not afraid to die. I would like to live. There are things I would still like to accomplish in this life, but I know that Jesus is my Savior and my Redeemer. During these past few years He has become my best friend. I trust Him, and I trust you as His representative. Whatever He wants for me, I am prepared.”
We pled for a miracle but at her request left the matter with Heavenly Father. She died shortly thereafter with the peace of the Lord attending her and her faithful family.

Oh, I see you two are in your thinking spot. What are you thinking about today?
The Holy Ghost.
People say He talks to them in a quiet voice. But I’ve never heard Him! Have you?
Not with my ears. But I hear Him with my heart.
What do you mean?
Well, the Holy Ghost usually speaks to us through our thoughts and feelings.
When I felt like I shouldn’t go to jiu jitsu on Sunday, was that the Holy Ghost?
I think so! The Holy Ghost helps us make good choices and feel peace.
I guess He does speak to me! I just have to listen.
Illustrations by Katie McDee

Several years ago, the Salt Lake City newspapers published an obituary notice of a close friend of mine—a mother and wife taken by death in the prime of her life. I visited the mortuary and joined a large number of persons gathered to express condolences to the distraught husband and motherless children. Suddenly the smallest child, Kelly, recognized me and took my hand in hers. “Come with me,” she said; and she led me to the casket in which rested the body of her beloved mother. “I’m not crying, Brother Monson, and neither must you. My mommy told me many times about death and life with Heavenly Father. I belong to my mommy and my daddy. We’ll all be together again.”

Through tear-moistened eyes, I recognized a beautiful and faith-filled smile. To my young friend, whose tiny hand clasped mine, there would never be a hopeless dawn. Sustained by her unfailing testimony, knowing that life continues beyond the grave, she, her father, her brothers, her sisters, and indeed all who share this knowledge of divine truth, can declare to the world: “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” (Ps. 30:5.)

A few years ago while we were in Sydney, Australia, my wife and I received a letter from one of our grandchildren. He wrote: “Dear Grandma and Grandpa, I just turned twelve years of age, and the bishop called me into the office, and he said, ‘I have some questions to ask of you, Bruce. Bruce, you’re twelve years of age now, and so I need to know if you love the Lord.’ I told him I do. ‘Do you say bad words, Bruce?’ ‘No, bishop, I never say bad words.’ ‘Do you love your mother and dad?’ ‘Yes, bishop, I do.’ ‘Do you pay your tithing, Bruce?’ ‘Yes I do, bishop.’

“You know, Grandpa and Grandma, the bishop said that I could receive the Aaronic Priesthood because I was twelve years of age, and he asked me if I knew what the Aaronic Priesthood was. I told him that I knew a little bit and that I could be ordained a deacon. You know, the next week the bishop asked who I would like to be ordained by. I said I would like to be ordained by my dad. So my dad put his hands upon my head, and the bishop stood around and so did my uncles, and my dad conferred the Aaronic Priesthood upon me and ordained me a deacon.

“Now, Grandma and Grandpa, you’re a long way away, but I know that you’re a General Authority and some day you’ll come home. You know, I can’t wait until you come home because I know you’ll sit on the stand, and then Grandpa, I can pass the sacrament to you.”
I think that is the true meaning of love, of families.

In her youth she dreamed of marriage and motherhood but was single for many years. “Sometimes I wondered if my dreams would ever be fulfilled,” Sister Cook says. “But I tried to have faith and focus on the blessings I did have.”
During this time she earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees in speech pathology and audiology and an EdS (Education Specialist) degree from Brigham Young University. She worked as a special education teacher and later as a school administrator.
On July 16, 1988, in the Salt Lake Temple, she married Richard E. Cook, who later served as a member of the Second Quorum of the Seventy. At that time, Sister Cook says she “inherited four wonderful children and became a grandmother of eight,” as Elder Cook’s first wife had passed away in 1984. They now have 17 grandchildren.

Illustration by Sudi McCollan
One summer, I participated in an internship on an island in Bicol, Philippines. The view of the ocean was wonderful, and I looked forward to each morning.
I dreaded the evenings, however. That’s when the people in the camp would start drinking and having parties. Invitations to such parties were frequent, and my fellow interns and I had to attend, since not attending would be disrespectful.
The first party was a welcoming party for new interns. I was afraid to attend, because I was pretty sure that they would offer us drinks and I wasn’t sure how to decline. I called a friend in my home ward, and he gave me some wonderful advice that boosted my confidence.
When the party began, they offered us drinks but, fortunately, did not compel us to drink. Since my fellow interns accepted my stand of not drinking, refusing the next offers to drink was now easy for me—until one night. During one of the parties, the president of the company came. He was carrying a bottle of lambanog (a local wine made from coconut). Soon after his arrival, I saw him pouring some of the wine. He then said, “You must learn how to drink” and gave the glass to one of the interns. She quickly drank it.
My heart began to pound heavily. It would soon be my turn. I was whispering silently to myself, “I will not drink it. I will not drink it.” Then I saw the president extending the glass of wine to me. I didn’t know what to do. My fellow interns were looking at me, waiting to see what I would do. I smiled at the president and humbly said, “Sorry, sir, but I do not drink.”
I knew he was disappointed. He asked why I didn’t drink. I said, “I am a Mormon.”
He said, “I haven’t heard of that religion. It sounds like a type of food.” Everyone laughed.
I smiled too, not because of his joke but because I knew I had done the right thing.
No one ever offered me a drink again. But still the ridicule did not cease, even from my own friends. One even said that I was lying and that it’s unimaginable that members of the Church do not drink. During this time I felt the pressures that come to members of the Church.
My stay on that island taught me a lot of lessons, not just academically but spiritually. I learned that mockery may never cease, but the Spirit of the Lord will always guide you to do what is right.

As the Church continues to expand throughout the world, many members live where we have no chapels—and may not for the foreseeable future. I remember a family who, because of such circumstances, was required to meet in their home. I asked the mother how she liked going to church in her own home. She replied, “I like it! My husband uses better language at home now, knowing that he will bless the sacrament here each Sunday.”

A young piano student once became very discouraged by her mistakes. Each time she learned a piece, her teacher assigned a new and more difficult piece, and the student would begin playing wrong notes all over again. She concluded that she wasn’t learning anything, because she would always make mistakes in her new pieces. Then her teacher explained that nobody ever learned to play the piano without making many, many mistakes. The successful students are those who learn from their mistakes.

As a young man, I developed the idea that if I took care of the Lord’s business, he would take care of me. I’m not sure where I learned such an unsubstantiated idea, but it appealed to me, so I followed it faithfully for a number of years. It provided the comfortable insulation I wanted to shield me from the necessity of being cautious and careful. It allowed me to make excuses for minor business mishaps, problems at home, and even major catastrophes. “Surely the Lord is testing me,” I remarked when a business venture failed. “Satan is really after us,” I observed when contention threatened my family.

Because I felt the Lord would always take care of me, I felt no need to “study it out in [my] mind” (D&C 9:8) before asking God. I felt a quick little prayer would do. I often said, “Father, I’ve done my best to serve you, now I ask that you bless me in this endeavor.” I felt that if I magnified my Church calling, God wouldn’t let me lose my family—that if I put God first, I’d never want financially. I did not understand that by following such a procedure, I was yielding to the spirit of the temptation given to the Savior by Satan: “If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down: for it is written, He shall give his angels charge concerning thee: and in their hands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou dash thy foot against a stone.” (Matt. 4:6.)

Finally, as more “tests” came my way, complete with frustration and disappointment, I began to examine my careless attitude. I began to study the scriptures and to prayerfully examine my responsibility for my affairs. The evidence overwhelmingly suggested that God wants us to work out our own plans and actions, always seeking his confirmation that our course is right. A relationship with God is not an alternative to personal effort. It is, rather, a guide along the stairway of growth and understanding, a stairway which we must climb through our own personal exertion. As I adopted this new approach, I ordered and took responsibility for my life.

The sky was so clear that Saturday morning, the 30th of July, 1977, that it was like a day when one can see forever, as the lyrics of a popular song beautifully describe.
A man seasoned by the salty air of the sea for a good portion of his life and by the smell of the soil in later years sat under the shade of a mango tree, watching with curiosity and with some measure of amusement the well-dressed people of all ages who came in droves, on foot and by car, to a two-hectare farm adjoining his property.
It was a funny sight for the quiet barrio folks whose existence has always been away from the trappings of civilization. The city folks came in companies of tens and twenties. As the man saw it, something was odd for these people—who obviously came from different places—to meet on common ground with warmth of friendship and unity in purpose, all with faces brimming with inspiring joy and eagerness to soil their hands by menial work.
The visitors were indeed an odd mixture: lawyers, engineers, accountants, educators, missionaries, housewives, and an assortment from all walks of life. Among them were stake presidents, bishops, a mission president, an elderly missionary couple on welfare assignment, and a visitor from Salt Lake City (Clare Bishop of the General Welfare Committee of the Church).
Barrio Gahak in Kawit, Cavite Province was never like this, the man must have mused, as the visiting city dwellers took off their shoes, rolled thier pants and proceeded to pull weeds and cut the tall grass that abounded in the farm. The man could have well asked the question "What are these peculiar people doing in a place like this?" and still be perplexed by the answer he would get.
Bishop Eligio T. Ollero of Makati 2nd Ward chose a spot near the vantage point of the man who was then enjoying the spectacle with mean delight. Sometime later, as sweat formed on his brow, Bishop Ollero glanced obliquely at the man. He was still looking on with undisguised amusement. The Bishop smiled at him. The man smiled back with an expression of mischief.
The Bishop paused from his work and walked over to the man for a brief respite with him under the shade. It was during this moment of pleasant encounter that an unseen divine hand must have rested on the two men as they conversed.
Whatever transpired under the shade, which was made exhilarating by the soft touch of the countryside breeze and by a divine presence, only the man, Bishop Ollero and the Lord will understand.
Bishop Ollero rose to resume his work. The man quickly followed the Bishop and started pulling weeds beside him. The Bishop smiled at him as they worked. The man, no longer with the look of derisive amusement on his face, smiled back!—Posidio Ocampo, Jr.
Note: The man, 78-year old Apolinario Topacio Santiaguel, a retired U.S. Navy serviceman and now a farmer, was baptized by Bro. Erasmo L. Caerlang and confirmed by Bro. Daniel H. Apilado in the Makati Chapel three and a half months later, on November 12, 1977.

“I was trying to prove he was wrong,” said Diahann Piper, remembering the first time she accepted a challenge from a member to attend the small Latter-day Saint branch on the Caribbean island of St. Thomas.
“Brother Gerald Cox told me, ‘You just go and ask whatever questions you want. Nobody will force you to join the Church.’”
Diahann attended church expecting the worst, but the worst never happened. “Some of my friends were so against the Church. They told me all kinds of terrible things. When I went I kept waiting to see those things happen, but all I was seeing was love and more love.” Now Diahann is a member of the St. Thomas Branch.
For Diahann, joining the Church has brought some big changes in her life. “I had to change my attitude,” she said, “my style, my friends. I liked to go to the beach on Sundays, and I used bad language a lot. I had to change. Now I follow the prophet.”

Throughout my teenage years growing up in Ireland I was a lapsed or inactive Catholic. I stopped going to mass and seldom attended a religion class at school after I reached the age of 12. I always believed my Heavenly Father and my Savior were real people, and I didn’t view them the way my religion taught. I liked to pray to Heavenly Father in my own words rather than reciting set prayers. I prayed for guidance and truth.
On one of the rare occasions when I sat through a religion class, the nun who was teaching us spent the class talking about other churches, including The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She said that we should draw our own conclusions about them and find our niche. She is still a great friend of mine.
One day, when I was on the bus on my way home from work, I started to learn the truth. My friend Elaine’s brother, Liam, got onto the bus that day and, being a friendly type of person, sat beside me and started to talk to me. I offered him a cigarette. He said he didn’t smoke. He could have stopped there, but he didn’t. He told me why he didn’t smoke. He had joined the LDS church.
Liam told me a lot about the LDS church that day, and I was impressed. I was also impressed at the change it had made in his life. I wanted to know more. Unfortunately, Liam left two days later to work in Canada. So I waited and prayed and prayed and waited.
Roughly two months later, as I sat watching TV on a sunny May evening, out of the corner of my eye I saw two missionaries pass by my house on the street. I had no idea they were LDS. I just felt the urge to talk to them. I asked my mom if I could bring them in and ran to the door to call them. They were totally shocked! They hadn’t had an investigator for months, and here was one tracting them.
I totally wrecked their door approach. They walked up to me and said, “We’d like to share a brief message with …”
“Come in,” I said before they could finish.
They did and they taught me a spiritual first lesson. At the end of the discussion, I knew they spoke the truth. I loved hearing about Joseph Smith. I, too, had prayed for truth. I hadn’t had a vision, but like Joseph Smith, I had found the true church. I debated about asking if I could possibly join their church. During the second discussion, they challenged me to be baptised. I challenged them to stop me!
I had one problem. I had heard people talking about gaining a spiritual witness. I have to admit my prayers had racing stripes on them. I used to pray and hop straight into bed, put on some music, and go to sleep. The missionaries told me to pray and wait for an answer. That’s what I did. One night I prayed and didn’t close my prayer. I stayed on my knees waiting. Then I sat on the side of my bed waiting. Then I woke up at about 5:00 A.M. with an urge to read the Book of Mormon. I opened the book and began reading Alma 32 about faith. It was my answer! [Alma 32]
Of course, it wasn’t all easy sailing. My mom threw a fit when I told her, and the family stopped speaking to me. My mom even threatened to throw me out unless I “lost” the Mormons. I was scared of losing my family, and they knew it, so they put on the pressure. I knew the Church was true, so I took my chances on their love for me. My dad and mom and sister did everything they could to stop me from leaving the house on the day I chose to be baptised. But I left after trying once more to make them understand.
On the way to the church, I shook like a leaf and cried and cried. I was still shaking when I stepped into the font, but when I heard Elder Gooch say the words, “Ashley Catherine Moran, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ … ,” I forgot all my problems. Later, when I was confirmed a member of the Church and received the Holy Ghost, I lost all my fear and entered into the straight and narrow path.
My family still loves me. They have even befriended some members. I want them to know true happiness, to know as I do, that they are children of God. I am happier than I have ever been. I know who I am and I know that God lives. I love my Savior, and Joseph Smith is a prophet. We have a prophet on the earth today, and if I follow his counsel I will stay close to my Father in Heaven. The Book of Mormon is scripture for this last dispensation. It’s all true!

Jax was super nervous about performing his talent, Irish dancing, at the FSY variety show. “I was really, really terrified. Like I’m-in-a-pit-of-snakes terrified,” he says. “I said a little prayer before I got up there. I was still terrified, but then the music came on. I pretended no one was there. And I just started dancing.”

Jax hopped and moved his legs in traditional Irish fashion. But seeing Jax’s cheery face, most people probably wouldn’t guess that it was quite the journey to get there.

“In 2020 I was really stressed and even suicidal,” Jax says. “I was in a mental health hospital for a month. I found out I had pediatric brain inflammation and learned I was autistic. It was really, really hard.”

Once Jax had received some treatment for his mental health, his mom encouraged him to find a physical outlet to help manage his stress. He decided to seek personal revelation about what he could do.

“I prayed about it and asked for help,” he says. “And I remembered that my aunt was teaching Irish dance. So I started the class right before our big Christmas show. I had to learn like five dances in two weeks, so that was fun,” Jax jokes. Soon, Irish dance became a huge blessing in his life. “It really helped with my stress levels and dark feelings,” he says.

At FSY, Jax’s company asked him if he had a talent he could share in the variety show. So he danced on the sidewalk for them. When they told him he should perform, Jax’s first thought was, “Oh, no.” But he decided to share his talent even though he was afraid.

Now that Jax has seen videos of himself performing at FSY, he can’t help but laugh. “I had a completely straight face for the first part,” he says. “But then people started cheering, and I started smiling.”

For youth who are struggling, Jax gives this advice: “It’s better to talk about it with someone than hide it like I did. The Lord knows who you are, and He’ll be there for you. The Lord wants to help you.”

Overall, Jax feels that learning Irish dance has been a blessing from Heavenly Father.

Ryan Periga was grinning as he walked to the front of the classroom. Ryan was the president of our deacons quorum, and it was his turn to present our priesthood lesson.
“We’re going to do something a little different today,” he announced. “I brought a jigsaw puzzle, and Brother Warner said we could spend a few minutes putting it together.”
He opened the box and spilled the contents out on the floor. He dropped to his knees and looked around. “Well, give me a hand!” he said.
He didn’t have to ask twice. Typical deacons, we were always eager for something to do, even if it meant working on a simple jigsaw puzzle.
According to the box, the puzzle was designed for three- and four-year-old children. It contained only about thirty large pieces, so it wasn’t long before we had the whole thing finished. The only problem was that one large piece was missing, right in the middle.
“Oh, great,” someone protested. “There’s a piece missing!”
“That’s okay,” Ryan said. “It doesn’t look that bad.”
“What are you talking about?” someone asked. “It looks silly.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not all there!”
Ryan tried to look surprised. “Is that important?”
“Of course, it’s important! You can’t have a puzzle without all the pieces.”
Ryan nodded. Then he pointed toward the one empty chair in the room. “You might have noticed that Kevin hasn’t been to priesthood meeting for a while. So in a way, we’re just like this puzzle. We’re not complete. Without Kevin we’re not a whole quorum.”
Ryan had made his point. He had taught his lesson so well that each of us understood it perfectly. And we spent the next several minutes discussing ways to bring Kevin back into the quorum.
Ryan proved that you don’t need to be a General Authority to teach a good lesson, whether it’s for a class or for family home evening. Everyone has thoughts, insights, and experiences that can help shape and influence others. Don’t be afraid to ask your adviser, seminary teacher, parents, or companion for their ideas and input. Most importantly, remember to be prayerful. Seek the help of the Lord and invite his help in your preparations and your presentation.
Look for ways to relate the topic to the lives of those you’re teaching. Ryan’s lesson was effective because he didn’t just talk about quorums. He talked about our quorum. He didn’t simply talk about activating people. He talked about helping Kevin. Quorum unity was suddenly something each of us could relate to.
Next, look for ways to make your lesson come to life. Use object lessons, activities, stories, and discussions. Try to involve everyone. Ryan’s lesson is a good example. While we were busy working on the puzzle, we had no idea there was a point to what we were doing. But we were all involved; everyone was participating.

Consider the lifesaving power in this story. A few years ago, twin girls Brielle and Kyrie were born prematurely to the Jackson family. They were placed in separate incubators to reduce the risk of infection. Kyrie, the larger sister at two pounds three ounces, quickly began gaining weight and calmly slept. But Brielle, who weighed only two pounds at birth, could not keep up with her. Suddenly one day Brielle’s condition became critical. The nurse tried everything she could think of to stabilize Brielle. Still Brielle squirmed and fussed as her oxygen intake plummeted and her heart rate soared. Then the nurse remembered a procedure she had heard about. She said to the worried parents, “Let me just try putting Brielle in with her sister to see if that helps.” The parents consented, and the nurse slipped the squirming baby into the incubator with the bigger sister. No sooner had the door of the incubator closed than Brielle snuggled up to Kyrie and calmed right down. Within minutes Brielle’s blood-oxygen readings were the best they had been since she was born. As she dozed, Kyrie wrapped her tiny arm around her smaller sibling (see Nancy Sheehan, “A Sister’s Helping Hand,” Reader’s Digest, May 1996, 155–56).

Scott sat slumped over in the backseat of the car.
“Are you feeling OK?” Mom asked.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he moaned.
But Scott wasn’t feeling well. In fact, he felt like he’d just been hit in the stomach. And it was all because of what Sister Thomas, the Primary president, had said during Primary that morning:
“Children, next week is the beginning of a new year in Primary. That means you will all advance to the next class and have a new teacher. Isn’t that exciting?”
Scott didn’t think so. He didn’t want a new teacher. He liked his old one just fine. She told the best stories, and she always smelled good. “Mom,” he said now, “I’m not going to Primary next week.”
His parents looked at each other in surprise.
“I thought you loved Primary, Son,” Dad said, keeping his eyes on the road.
“I do! I—I mean, I did,” Scott said sadly.
For family home evening, Dad gave a lesson about how changes are a part of life and how we should welcome them as opportunities for growth. Scott knew that his parents were trying to help, but he didn’t feel much like growing at the moment.
It was easy not to think about Primary during school. And on Tuesday, Scott had violin lessons that kept him so busy practicing that he almost forgot about Primary completely—until Wednesday. That’s when he found a note taped to his front door. It was a small piece of white paper folded in half and with his name written carefully on the front. Scott unfolded it and read:
Dear Scott,
Welcome to our Primary class! I have been watching you each Sunday, and I know that you are a boy who is trying to live the gospel.
I will send you a few clues about myself. Can you figure out who I am before Sunday?
Your Mystery Primary Teacher
P.S. I have black hair.
Puzzled, Scott folded the note and stuffed it into his backpack.
On Thursday, this note was on his door:
Hi Scott!
I saw you playing outside with your friends yesterday. I like the way you get along so well with them. That’s a good quality to have. Do you know who I am yet?
Your Mystery Teacher
P.S. I like to ride bikes, too!
Who could it be? Scott wondered. He thought about the sisters in his ward. He couldn’t think of any black-haired, bike-riding ladies.
Scott raced home from the bus stop on Friday. He was disappointed to not see a note taped to the front door. He dumped his backpack in the hallway and went into the kitchen for a snack.
“It must have blown off the door,” Mom said as she handed him a familiar-looking piece of white paper. She smiled as Scott read it aloud:
Dear Scott,
I’ve heard that you are an excellent reader. That’s great because we will be reading the scriptures all year in class. Would you come prepared to read 2 Timothy 3:14–15 on Sunday?
Thanks!
Y. M. T.
P.S. Sometimes I wear glasses when I read.
When Scott took out the trash on Saturday, he found another note:
Dear Scott,
Tomorrow is the big day! I’m looking forward to having you in my class. Do you know me? I know you!
Love,
Your (Favorite) Mystery Teacher
P.S. I will be wearing something with flowers on it.
On Sunday, Scott was up and dressed before everyone else. “I thought you weren’t going to Primary anymore,” his mom teased.
“Well, I’m only going today.”
The chapel was nearly full when Scott and his family found their seats. Quickly he scanned each row. He couldn’t believe that so many women in the ward had black hair. He noticed Sister Veatch with little glasses perched on her nose, but she wasn’t wearing anything flowered. And Scott tried not to giggle as he imagined Sister Cousins riding a bicycle.
The Primary room buzzed with excitement as the children located their new seats. Scott and his friends settled into the two rows marked for their class. They were surprised to find the teacher’s chair still empty.
Emily leaned over and whispered, “It has to be Sister Hernandez. She has black hair, and when she comes to visit teach my mom, she always wears those funny little glasses.”
“But what about bike riding?” asked Stasha.
“I’ve seen her riding bikes with her kids!” Tyler offered. It was then they heard the sound of chair legs scraping the floor behind them. The children stiffened and held their breaths as “the mystery teacher” slipped quietly into her seat. Together they turned and peeked over their shoulders.
“Dad!” shouted Scott.
“Hey, Brother Weatherford! Nice tie!”
The mystery teacher put a finger to his lips and winked at the class. “Welcome to Primary,” he whispered.
Scott grinned and turned back in his chair. I think I’ll keep coming to Primary, he decided as Sister Thomas stood to welcome the children to the first day in their new Primary classes.

Bishop Edgley: An experience I had with my Aaronic Priesthood quorum was on a Scout outing. We were sitting around a fire with my wonderful Scoutmaster, who was also the assistant deacons quorum adviser. A couple of guys who were not active in the Church were looking at some pornographic material.
The Scoutmaster stopped as he was talking to the Scouts and asked if he could have the magazine. He closed it and then told us how hurt he was, how troubled he was. Then he testified of the power of the priesthood when we honor it. He handed the magazine back, and that young man threw it in the fire.
That Scoutmaster taught us by the power of the Spirit about the priesthood. Of all the lessons I’ve had in quorums and chapels, I am still impressed by that experience.

During my youth, my father had a stable job and made a good living. However, he was addicted to alcohol, and this affected his family life. One day, a building was completed in my neighborhood near our house, and many speculated on its use: a school, a hospital, a church?
It was a building of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My father was invited there and he went despite the mockery and ridicule of his family members. Eventually my father was baptized.
From that moment on, we noticed a change in his character: To our astonishment, he stopped consuming alcohol and tobacco. He often read a book that later turned out to be the Book of Mormon. After my father was baptized, he invited us to join him in his new Church. The other members of my family were reluctant to join. I had always been close to my father and decided to go to church with him.
After my baptism, my two brothers and sisters joined the Church. My mother was later baptized as well.

Growing up, I wasn’t that religious. I knew the basics of Christianity, but I always had more questions than faith and didn’t really think much of it. But I had always heard my devout, religious aunt repeat Matthew 22:14:
“For many are called, but few are chosen.”
“Chosen for what?” I would think.
I never understood what this verse truly meant, and I never bothered to ask her. I started to assume this verse of scripture meant that God must have a list of His favorite children who would fill up the seats of heaven—His chosen few.
I didn’t believe I was one of those favorites.
The older I got and the more I looked around at the way others lived, it seemed that no matter what I did in my life, whether good things or bad things, I would be insignificant if I wasn’t one of His “chosen.”
I didn’t even know how to reach that status!
Knowing this, I started to believe that I would never amount to much in God’s eyes. I wouldn’t inherit His blessings or promises because I wasn’t born a favorite.
These thoughts often filled me with anxiety. I desperately wished to learn more about what it meant to become one of God’s chosen people and what it took to receive His blessings.
One day, I was scrolling social media when I came across an advertisement for Come, Follow Me. When I clicked on the ad, I found a way to connect with missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My willingness to find answers and hope for my life led me to agree to meet with them.
Through their lessons and many prayers, I learned so much about the gospel of Jesus Christ, my purpose in life, and, most importantly, the perfect love Heavenly Father has for me—His divine child.
I was baptized and felt so much joy and understanding spilling into my life. But I still didn’t quite feel the reassurance I was longing for. My anxious thoughts prior to joining the Church had lessened, but I still didn’t know if I was one of God’s chosen few who would inherit all that He has. I wasn’t sure what more I could do to become one of those special people.
That all changed a few months later when I was watching general conference. I was hopeful I would find some answers to questions that still felt unsettling when Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles began to speak. I was shocked when I heard him mention the very same verse that had left me puzzled throughout my life.
I was suddenly struck with hope.
Elder Bednar explained that “[Heavenly Father] does not limit ‘the chosen’ to a restricted few. Instead, our hearts, our desires, our honoring of sacred gospel covenants and ordinances, our obedience to the commandments, and, most importantly, the Savior’s redeeming grace and mercy determine whether we are counted as one of God’s chosen.”1
And in that moment, I knew—I am chosen.
Elder Bednar’s words gave me a deep feeling of gratitude that overwhelmed me. I felt more blessed than ever to have found The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
God doesn’t have favorites—He loves all His children with perfect love—but being chosen means we also choose Him too.
We are chosen because we choose to let Him prevail in our lives above everything else.
We are chosen because we choose to let Him prevail in our lives above everything else.
Elder Bednar inspired me to faithfully stay on the covenant path as I endure to the end. I also felt inspired by President Russell M. Nelson’s message to prioritize my relationship with Heavenly Father and to strive to forsake and overcome the world2 so that I can return to Him!