Gospel Story Finder

When two Latter-day Saint missionaries visited the Graybeal home in 1959, Alexandria knew their message was special. Her husband and two children were touched, too, and the Graybeals progressed toward baptism. When Brother Graybeal learned that the Air Force was transferring him to Germany, he decided to be baptized before he left. Alexandria, however, was struggling to know whether Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. Some time later, after the family had moved to Germany, her husband said, “If you really want to know, go to Heavenly Father and ask him.” That night Alexandria did just that. “I don’t know what happened,” she explains, “but the next morning I knew Joseph Smith was a prophet.” Alexandria and the two children were baptized a short time later in Kerlsrue, West Germany, in June 1960.
“I just felt wonderful,” Sister Graybeal says, remembering her baptism. “My testimony was strengthened after that, and I couldn’t get enough of the gospel. I studied and studied. It was like walking through a door and finding that the light was shining. It was beautiful.”

Following the spirit of "every member a missionary," a few years ago I started the New Year with the resolution of passing out 365 pass along cards in a year. I thought: giving out one pass along card a day is a very worthwhile goal. However, at the end of January I had already given out about 100 cards. Then I thought: maybe I should increase my goal to distribute 1,000 cards during the year. Then at the end of February I had already passed out about 300 cards. Then in the spirit of prayer I started pondering: what would a realistic goal to accomplish during a year's time? As a response to this desire to be a member missionary the Holy Ghost inspired with this idea. The website of your school receives 200,000 hits a month, why not place a virtual pass along card on the website, so that users can access and leave their name and address, so they can receive a free copy of the Book of Mormon, a DVD on Finding Faith in Christ or the booklet 3 Simple Ways of Having a Happier Family? I thought: wow that is indeed a fantastic idea. We immediately implemented that plan.

Then one more inspiration came: is there anything else we can do spread the message of the Restoration? And the spirit clearly spoke this in my mind. Your school distributes approximately 500,000 books a year to students all over the country. Why not insert a pass along card inside each book? We immediately started doing that. We were authorized to print our own cards. The church office in Brazil gave us an exclusive 1-800 number so that we could measure the number of calls we received through this initiative.

As a result today we receive approximately 2,000 phone calls and/or contacts a month from people requesting some church literature. We have many mathematicians and statisticians in this audience. You know that when you have 2,000 people requesting Church literature every month, you will have a percentage of these people that will end up receiving the discussions from the missionaries, reading the Book of Mormon, attending the meetings, and finally becoming members of the Church.

What do we learn from this experience?
1. Every member is indeed a missionary.
2. The Lord does answer our prayers according to our desires.
3. The Lord does expand our vision.
What started out as a New Year's resolution of passing out one card a day, turned to be an inspired missionary effort of bringing 2,000 referrals a month for the Church.

On December 17, 1973, the president of Lufthansa German Airlines in Frankfurt, Germany, received alarming news. Five terrorists had hijacked a Lufthansa 737 jet in Rome, Italy, and were making their way to Athens, Greece, with hostages on board. As they did so, 32 people lay dead in Rome, and one of the hostages now in flight was soon to be mortally shot and summarily dumped onto the airport runway in Athens. With guns to the heads of the pilot and copilot and with hostages trembling in terror, the unstable hijackers directed a bizarre path from Rome to Beirut to Athens to Damascus to Kuwait.

In an instant, the president of Lufthansa ordered into the air his chief pilot for the 737 fleet. Thirty-three-year-old Dieter F. Uchtdorf was to take a small group of emergency personnel and follow the hijacked plane wherever the guerrillas took it. In every setting possible he was to negotiate for the release of the plane, the pilots, and the hostages. Then, when all of this had been accomplished, he was to fly the hijacked 737 back to headquarters in Frankfurt.

With fortunately no more bloodshed, this mission, like so many others he had been on personally and professionally, was successfully accomplished. Unknown to him at the time, it was a portent of more important missions yet to come.

That suggests at least two things. One is to recognize and welcome those whom the Lord sends to help us. The other is to see in every assignment the opportunity to strengthen another. A mission president once told me of a missionary he assigned to more than 12 or 13 companions. He said to me, “Every one of those companions was about to go home early or be sent home. But we didn’t lose one of them.”
When I mentioned that miraculous fact later to the companion who saved so many at the point of their being overwhelmed, I got a response which surprised and taught me. It was this: “I don’t think that story is true. I never had a companion who was failing.”
I could see that a mission president had been inspired to send the right angel time after time. We can expect in our service to have help sent to us at the right time who will see strength in us and lift us up. And we can look forward to being the one sent by the Lord to encourage another.

Finally, I testify that we do not walk alone.
Stan, a dear friend of mine, was taken seriously ill and rendered partially paralyzed. He had been robust in health, athletic in build, and active in many pursuits. Now he was unable to walk or to stand. His wheelchair was his home. The finest of physicians had cared for him, and the prayers of family and friends had been offered in a spirit of hope and trust. Yet Stan continued to lie in the confinement of his bed at the university hospital. He despaired.
Late one afternoon I was swimming at the Deseret Gym, gazing at the ceiling while backstroking width after width. Silently, but ever so clearly, there came to my mind the thought: “Here you swim almost effortlessly, while your friend Stan languishes in his hospital bed, unable to move.” I felt the prompting: “Get to the hospital and give him a blessing.”
I ceased my swimming, dressed, and hurried to Stan’s room at the hospital. His bed was empty. A nurse said he was in his wheelchair at the swimming pool, preparing for therapy. I hurried to the area, and there was Stan, all alone, at the edge of the deeper portion of the pool. We greeted one another and returned to his room, where a priesthood blessing was provided.
Slowly but surely, strength and movement returned to Stan’s legs. First he could stand on faltering feet. Then he learned once again to walk—step by step. Today one would not know that Stan had lain so close to death and with no hope of recovery.
Frequently Stan speaks in Church meetings and tells of the goodness of the Lord to him. To some he reveals the dark thoughts of depression which engulfed him that afternoon as he sat in his wheelchair at the edge of the pool, sentenced, it seemed, to a life of despair. He tells how he pondered the alternative. It would be so easy to propel the hated wheelchair into the silent water of the deep pool. Life would then be over. But at that precise moment he saw me, his friend. That day Stan learned literally that we do not walk alone. I, too, learned a lesson that day: Never, never, never postpone following a prompting.

When I returned home from serving in the Nigeria Enugu Mission in September 2021, it was a challenging time for me, especially to find a job. I applied to several places, but it seemed like opportunities were scarce. However, I kept trusting the Lord and fortunately for me, my patience paid off, and one day I received a call from an area I had been longing to work in. They offered me the job, and I felt a sense of relief and gratitude.
Meanwhile, my fiancée was also serving full-time in the Ghana Accra Mission and was getting closer to returning home. We had been planning our wedding, and even though my salary was modest, I did everything I could with the help of families to make it happen. I believed that by faithfully following the Lord’s commandments, blessings would come our way.
Oftentimes, my spouse and I faced questioning and skepticism about our decision to get married at a young age. Many people told us that we were too young and hadn’t experienced enough of life yet. Despite these doubts, we knew in our hearts that the Lord was guiding us and that our decision to marry was the right one.
It’s true that at 22 years old, we didn’t have all the material possessions or financial stability that some might consider prerequisites for marriage. However, we believed that self-reliance was an important quality to possess, and we had been working towards that. We understood that marriage is about more than just having a car, a house, or a successful business. It is about building a foundation of love, trust, and shared values.
All through, it wasn’t an easy task, especially balancing the financial challenges and the desire for a beautiful wedding. We had to make compromises and find creative solutions. But through it all, we held onto our faith and trusted that everything would work out in the end.
Looking back, I realize that those times of struggle and uncertainty were important lessons for us. They taught us the value of perseverance, resourcefulness, and relying on the Lord’s guidance.
Thankfully, our wedding day arrived (March 15, 2023), and it was a joyous occasion filled with love and happiness. We felt truly blessed to begin our new life together, knowing that we had overcome obstacles and emerged stronger as a couple.
In addition to that, my wife, Pauline Faith Greene, and I were sealed in the Ghana Accra Temple on July 4, 2023. It was a sacred and joyous occasion that solidified our commitment to each other and to the Lord. We felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude knowing that our obedience to the Lord’s commandments had led us to this moment.
As we embarked on our journey as a married couple, we continued to rely on our faith and trust in the Lord. It wasn’t long after our wedding, in the month of March, that I received a promotion at my office. Along with the promotion came a salary increase, which brought a great sense of relief. Finally, I was able to provide for all my family’s needs, pay an honest tithe, and even extend a helping hand to others in need.
In the end, I learned that following the Lord’s commandments doesn’t guarantee a life free of challenges, but it does bring blessings and the strength to face them. It was a humbling experience that reminded me of the power of faith and the importance of trusting in divine providence.

It was time to take the cows and goats to the high Alpine pastures for summer grazing. And Hansi had gotten up early to attend to his pet goat, Groffi. He remembered the summer before when the little goat was born with one leg shorter than the other. It had had a hard time even learning to hobble, and Hansi had taken care of her. Now the boy was shaking with excitement as he huddled in the dark stable with his little pet. Hansi was planning to do something that might be dangerous for both of them. But he felt it was the only way to show his father how much the little crippled animal meant to him and the only way to keep her for himself.
The goat had been no trouble during the winter when the animals were in the stable and out of the cold and snow. But his father had said, “You may keep the goat until spring. Then we must give her to old Simon up on the mountainside. He will take good care of Groffi. This little one would only be in the way during the steep climb to the meadows. I’m afraid she would never make it.”
Hansi was troubled and tried to convince his father that Groffi would be no trouble, but his father was firm about it. “Every animal must be worth its keep,” his father explained. “When you are a herdsman, you will understand.”
Hansi wanted very much to be a herdsman someday, to wear the velvet jacket with red designs on it, and to blow the long alpenhorn. But just now, what he wanted most was to keep Groffi with the other animals and not give her away. Old Simon must be a strange, gruff man, to live alone so far away from the people in the Village. How would such a man treat a goat that limps? Hansi wondered.
So on this festival day when all the villagers would travel in a procession partway up the mountain with the herdsmen and the animals, Hansi was going ahead of them alone with Groffi to the high pasture. If I do this, he thought, Father will see that Groffi can make the climb and will let me keep her.
He peeked out the stable door. His family and all the others in the village were dressing in their gay costumes, preparing to start. Dogs were barking and cowbells jangled. People would soon be busy putting garlands of flowers around the cows’ necks and loading milk pails in the cheese carts the little donkeys would pull. Maybe they’ll be too busy to notice I’m missing, he hoped.
With Groffi in his arms, Hansi stepped out of the stable and hurried behind it then over to the trail that led up the mountain. He started up the path carrying Groffi, but she soon became heavy.
Hansi put her down and she was able to climb along, but she was in no hurry. She stopped often to nibble daisies and forget-me-nots along with the grass. “Hurry, Groffi,” Hansi urged. “Wait until we get to the meadows, then you can eat. Oh, I wish you had some climbing shoes like mine!”
Hansi looked up the mountain and knew that he was doing a risky thing. Even the herdsmen who had been climbing for years were careful of every step and kept close watch on the animals. Goats have sure feet, but Groffi was not like other goats. And Hansi knew he should not be going alone with her. But he kept on, half pushing, half carrying his pet. After a while Hansi guessed they were about a mile from the village. It was a good head start from the others, who probably hadn’t left home yet.
Soon Hansi came to the place where he knew he must leave the path to circle around Simon’s hut. If the old man saw him, he would ask questions, and Hansi didn’t want to have to answer them. Off to the side it was rocky, and Hansi knew he must test every step. He put one foot on a smooth shale rock almost as big as a table. It ought to be solid, he reasoned. Then he picked up Groffi and tried his weight on the rock. But he had barely stood up on it when the rock slipped and started sliding rapidly down the mountain with Hansi and Groffi on top of it. They were thrown off when the rock hit a tree. Hansi grabbed his scraped leg and looked for Groffi. But his pet was nowhere to be seen.
Hansi knew he was in trouble and that he had acted foolishly. But for the moment he could only sit still and try to keep back the tears. After a while Hansi heard footsteps. He looked up and saw Simon coming toward him. At first Hansi was frightened, but then he saw Groffi hobbling along close to the old man. Simon’s hand was warm and his voice was soft as he helped Hansi to his feet and asked, “Are you hurt, my boy?”
“Only bruised,” Hansi replied, brushing himself off and wiping his tears with the soft handkerchief Simon handed him. And to his surprise he was soon telling Simon the whole story. At the end he admitted, “I was afraid you wouldn’t love Groffi as I do.”
The old man’s eyes twinkled. “Who should love a goat anyway? Only a little boy? I have lots of love, enough for goats as well as boys.” Groffi nuzzled Simon as he rubbed her head behind her ears.
Hansi smiled. He knew that Groffi would have a good home and that made it easier to give her up. “Can I come often to visit her?” he asked.
“Of course, come anytime. An old man needs more than animals to love.”
Hansi’s face clouded again as he remembered that he still had to go back down and face his father. “Father will be angry with me,” the boy explained.
“Yes, that’s true,” Simon agreed. “But he’ll forgive you, I’m sure. If a boy and an old man can love a goat so much, don’t you think a father can love a son even more?”

Marco slowed his already slow walk. Somehow he didn’t feel like going home for pranzo (lunch). Usually Carlo ran home with him, but Carlo was angry.
“Why can’t you play in the championship?” Carlo had demanded.
“Because it’s on Sunday.”
“If you don’t play, we forfeit!” Carlo had yelled. “With Guiseppe sick, you’re our only goalie. You have to play!”
When Marco reached home, he was reluctant to go in. But he knew that Mama and Papa were waiting, so he slowly climbed the stairs to their appartamento (apartment).
Mama was already putting food on the table. “I was beginning to worry,” she said with a smile. “Hurry and wash.”
Marco didn’t feel like eating. But after the blessing he bit into the crisp hot bread. Then he dug into the gnocchi (little dumplings) covered with Mama’s salsa. As he savored the spicy goodness, he began to feel better.
“Is anything wrong?” Mama asked. “You’re quiet today.”
“They posted the soccer schedule at school,” he said.
“Oh?”
“I have to play on Sunday.”
Mama and Papa were quiet for a minute. They knew that Marco’s team, the Lightning Bolts, had worked hard for a chance to be the top team in all of Milan, Italy.
Papa looked puzzled. “You mean all the games are on Sunday?”
“No, the quarterfinals and semifinals are on Saturday. The winners on Saturday play the final game on Sunday.”
Marco could see a twinkle start in Papa’s brown eyes. “Cheer up, Marco,” he said merrily. “Maybe your team will lose on Saturday! Then you won’t have to play on the Sabbath!”
Marco smiled too. But the Lightning Bolts were very good. They had a chance to win both games Saturday. “Giuseppe has the flu, and Tommaso hurt his ankle,” he explained. “If we win Saturday, I have to play on Sunday—or we forfeit. What do I do?”
Mama put her arm around his shoulders. “We’ve taught you what is right. If your team wins, I’m sure you will make the right decision. Now eat, or you’ll be late for school.”
At school some of the boys whispered and stared at Marco. Carlo just ignored him. It made Marco hurt inside to lose his best friend.
At practice that night, Carlo finally talked to him. “Have you changed your mind?” he asked angrily.
Marco started to get angry himself. Then he remembered Papa and grinned at Carlo. “I think we’d better work on winning Saturday’s games,” he said. “If you don’t practice kicking, we won’t have to worry about Sunday!”
Friday night Marco felt restless and scared. He wished his parents had told him he couldn’t play. Then the boys would blame them instead of him.
Even though he felt sick inside, Marco knelt down to pray. He prayed hard and then waited for an answer. He waited and waited, but nothing happened. He wondered if Heavenly Father hadn’t heard him. But then a warm feeling came to him. He felt very peaceful. All the restless hurts eased. He knew that everything would be all right.
Saturday morning came bright and clear. There was just a wisp of clouds in the sky. The air was sharp and invigorating. It was a perfect day for soccer.
The Lightning Bolts were well prepared and won the first game easily. Lounging around after a light lunch, they looked at the schedule.
“We play the Tigers!” Carlo groaned. “They’ve got the biggest boys in the tournament.”
“And the fastest,” Marco added. “We’ll really have to play hard to beat them.” Part of Marco wanted to win the game, and part of him wanted to lose—then he wouldn’t have to worry about Sunday.
It was a hard-fought match. The speedy Tigers scored the first goal, but the Lightning Bolts fought back and evened the score. After that, the teams traded goals. They were tied 4–4 in the final minutes of the match, when Carlo headed a pass into the net to put the Lightning Bolts on top.
With less than a minute remaining, Carlo had the ball again. He weaved in and out of the Tigers, heading for the goal. Then he tripped and lost the ball! The Tigers brought it back with swift, sure passes straight toward Marco.
Marco stood in front of the goal as the last seconds of the match ticked away. If he could keep the ball out of the net, the Lightning Bolts would win!
A Tiger forward kicked the ball—hard! It was headed for the corner of the net, just beyond Marco’s reach. Marco’s heart seemed to stop beating. He threw himself to the right with all his strength. The ball bounced off his hands just as the whistle blew. He had done it! The Bolts had won!
Marco’s teammates were jumping and cheering. He picked himself up and brushed off the dirt. He saw his parents walking toward him. They were smiling and waving. The head referee was with them.
“Marco, that was good playing,” Papa said, giving him a hug. Then he said, “I want you to meet Mr. Giovetti.”
“Hello, Mr. Giovetti,” Marco said politely.
“Hello, Marco. That was a fine game. But your father tells me you have a problem.”
“I can’t play tomorrow,” Marco told him. “The team will have to forfeit because we don’t have another goalie.”
“Why can’t you play?”
“Because the game is during my church’s sacrament meeting,” Marco explained, “and I need to be there. But even if the game were later, I still wouldn’t play on the Sabbath.”
“I see.” The referee thought for a moment, then said, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
The team gathered around. When Mr. Giovetti came back, he had another man with him. “Marco, this is Mr. Luigi. He is the coach of the team you are to play tomorrow.”
“Hello, Marco,” Mr. Luigi said. “It seems that we have the same problem. Two of our best players were injured today. We still have enough boys to play tomorrow, but we wouldn’t be at our best. I would like to postpone the game. Is that all right with the Lightning Bolts?”
Marco looked around at his friends and the coach. They all nodded. “Yes!” Marco said. “When do we play?”
“Next Saturday,” the referee answered. “Bright and early.”
As Marco walked home, he felt tired but good. His prayer had been answered. Even if the Lightning Bolts lost the championship, he would always remember it as a victory.

It’s Friday night. From Recife to Rio and from Salvador to São Paulo, the great megalopolises of Brazil teem with life as young people fill the streets, heading down beach boardwalks and downtown drives to outdoor festivals and markets, movies and shows, restaurants and clubs.
But in a certain corner of São Paulo—Brazil’s largest metropolis, with a population of 21 million—all the bustle of a big-city Friday night is forgotten as dozens of teenagers play a part in something most unusual.
They sit in small groups around a large, luminous building, occasionally checking their watches as they talk quietly into the night. They’re not staying up late to go to a dance club. They’re not lingering for the late show. They’re eagerly awaiting something of far greater significance, something their ancestors have also waited for: their assigned time to do baptisms for the dead in the São Paulo Brazil Temple.
Because this temple has been the only one in a nation of more than 700,000 Latter-day Saints, its doors have been open all night every Friday and until late Saturday in order to accommodate the busloads of Church members from outlying areas who are able to travel to the temple only on weekends. Upon their arrival, stakes are assigned times round the clock to do temple work.
According to former São Paulo temple president Aledir Barbour, handling such large numbers of temple goers “is now our greatest challenge because so many stakes want to come, but we cannot accommodate them all as we’d like.” He pauses, then smiles and adds, “But certainly it is a challenge we like to have.”
The white-haired, soft-spoken temple president cites the example of a group of youth and their leaders who traveled by bus from Belo Horizonte, a large city about 200 kilometers northeast of São Paulo. Youth from this stake brought with them the names of 10,000 ancestors, all of whom the teens had identified through their own research. The group stayed from Tuesday to Friday, but it wasn’t nearly enough time to perform the baptisms for all their ancestors.
The temple baptistry is so full of youth patrons, individuals can usually be baptized for only four or five deceased persons each time they come to the temple. And this is after many teens and their parents from outlying areas have saved for months to travel to the temple and have ridden on a bus for days to get to São Paulo.
When the São Paulo Temple was dedicated in 1978, it could handle the Church membership in Brazil, which then totaled less than 60,000. But membership in Brazil has increased more than tenfold since then, and for some time the temple has been consistently overflowing.
Fortunately, the rapid growth that has caused such a challenge is also a catalyst in bringing about wonderful change—change that is already beginning to bless the lives of Brazilian youth.
Peering through the rails of a fence, 17-year-old Fabio Fogliatto and his friends of the Canoas Brazil Stake watch intently as workers in hard hats construct a building near the southern tip of Brazil. Fabio notes with satisfaction that one of the workers leaves the construction site before smoking a cigarette. “He must know this is a sacred site for us,” Fabio says.
On the other side of the fence from the teens is a spectacular sight. Against the backdrop of the city, the walls of the Porto Alegre Brazil Temple rise out of the red earth.
“Just watching them build the temple, I can feel it really is a temple of the Lord,” says Ivan Carvalho, age 14, of the Esteio Ward. “It makes me feel even stronger that I want to come here to do ordinances for the dead and for myself.”
Fourteen-year-old Guilherme Recordon of the Estância Velha Ward adds, “And now that we have to go only 20 kilometers instead of 300, maybe we’ll be able to come here every week!”
The feelings of these boys represent a growing excitement all across Brazil as temples are built. Another temple is nearing completion in Campinas (a city just west of São Paulo), and yet another will be dedicated soon in the northern city of Recife. As the Church builds temples in Brazil, youth here are constructing their own temple-worthy lives.
Living worthy of going to the temple can be anything but easy for young Brazilians. They are teased by their peers if they don’t use drugs, alcohol, and tobacco. Extreme immodesty is common on billboards and prime-time television. Many students carry pornographic magazines to school. During carnaval, a weeklong festival Brazil is famous for, immodesty and immorality parade in the streets.
But Latter-day Saint youth say that looking to the temple helps them keep the commandments despite the many temptations and trials they face. “At school, when you won’t look at the [pornographic] magazines, people make fun of you. But I have a goal to serve a mission and marry in the temple, so I already know that if they push this stuff at me, I won’t do it,” says Fabio Marques, age 16, of the Campinas Fourth Ward, Campinas Brazil Stake. “I’ve already made my decision.”
Fabio says having a temple so close to his home in Campinas will strengthen him and his Latter-day Saint friends. “It’s hard to get to the temple in São Paulo, but soon we’ll be able to do baptisms for the dead more easily and frequently at the Campinas temple. And each time you do that, you make a stronger goal to return to the temple and to be worthy to marry in the temple.”
Whenever challenges seem too much for 18-year-old Janise Figueiró, she looks at a little bottle of red earth she received from her Young Women president in the Higienópolis Ward, Porto Alegre Brazil Moinhos de Vento Stake. “Whenever I look at that soil from the temple site, I remember to live worthy.”
Fourteen-year-old Juliano Garcia of the Guaiba Jardim Ward, Porto Alegre Moinhos de Vento stake, was thrilled with the prize he won. Although he had been a Church member for just under a year, he won a scripture chase in his multistake seminary bowl. As he began to look through the pages of his prize, a booklet entitled The Holy Temple by Elder Boyd K. Packer of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, he became fascinated with the pictures of temple baptismal fonts and celestial rooms. Juliano didn’t know much about the temple, but as he read in the booklet about baptism for the dead, his heart turned to his deceased grandparents. “I thought about my grandparents, how great they were, and I thought that more than anything I wanted to go to the temple for them.” Juliano hasn’t been able to travel to the São Paulo temple, but he is now preparing to go in Porto Alegre.
As Juliano and other Brazilian teens continue to construct their own temple-worthy lives little by little, they do not doubt that when the doors of the new temples are ready to open, they will be ready to enter.
When the angel Moroni appeared to 17-year-old Joseph Smith in 1823, he told the young prophet that Elijah the prophet would “plant in the hearts of the children the promises made to the fathers, and the hearts of the children shall turn to their fathers” (JS—H 1:39).
This prophecy is literally being fulfilled in the hearts of young Brazilians. “The Spirit of Elijah is working … , especially on the young people, to do work for their ancestors. It’s something that we cannot explain,” says former São Paulo temple president Aledir Barbour.
For example 16-year-old Jeferson Montenegro of Canoas (pictured below) and Suelen Alexandre (age 15); José Meirelles (age 18); Priscila Cavalieri (age 18); Carlita Fochetto (age 14); and Carolina (age 16), Christiane (age 15), and Carlos Rodriguez (age 12) of São Paulo volunteer in their Family History Centers for 10 to 20 hours each week. They assist Church members in their research, enter extracted names into the computer system, and search for names of their own ancestors.
These teens aren’t unusual. Many Brazilian youth have found the names of hundreds of their ancestors and have eagerly begun their temple work. Why? “I feel the influence of the Spirit of Elijah,” says Jeferson. “It makes me feel a closeness with those who’ve gone before me.”

Rob: You usually don’t realize you have a problem until you are in so deep you can no longer see the light. That’s what happened with me. I was curious and justified my involvement with pornography by reminding myself that guys at school were involved with it too, and it didn’t seem like a big problem for them.
Pornography first appeals to curiosity. Somehow, just looking doesn’t seem all that dangerous. Every one of us has gone into a store just to look—not to buy. But this is a huge store, with almost unlimited merchandise. Once we are in the store, the invitations to satisfy our curiosity are endless. And so curiosity is never satisfied.
There are lots of things in life—like rattlesnakes or abandoned mine shafts or drugs—that we may be curious about. But knowing how dangerous they are, we walk away or leave the party or turn off the computer.
Actually, with pornography, there is no such thing as “just looking.” Looking is the problem. Viewing pornography triggers sexual feelings. We can easily get hooked on those pleasurable feelings, especially if they seem to relieve stress or anxiety—and we can start a cycle of addiction just as difficult to break as an addiction to drugs or alcohol.
Rob: Curiosity turned to interest, and interest developed into a strong habit. Soon I was addicted. I would get home from school, go straight to the computer, and be there for hours. My social life suffered. So did my schoolwork, family ties, and—most important—my spirituality.
At the very time I most needed the promptings of the Spirit in my life, I was less and less able to feel anything. Life became a constant struggle against depression.
My soul hungered, and the only thing I fed it offered no nourishment. I would get discouraged with myself, so I would delve into pornography to feel better. But the pornography would upset me even more.
Guilt, fear, and depression are common emotions for those involved with pornography—guilt, because they know what they are doing is wrong; fear, because they are terrified their secret will be found out; and depression, because they no longer feel the Spirit. Relationships with family, friends, Church leaders, and the Lord are damaged.
Blair: My self-confidence dwindled in church, school, and everywhere. Many times I felt very alone, awkward, and unworthy. If a girl liked me, I would think, “She wouldn’t like me if she really knew me.” I would shy away from being social.
Rob: Through all those years I attended church, but I was mentally inactive. I kept going to church so I wouldn’t upset my parents. But I knew the lifestyle I was caught up in was wrong. I noticed a change in my own countenance day by day, year by year. I became calloused and hardened. I found myself lying to my parents, my bishop, everyone around me. Inside I was going through personal turmoil and spiritual torment.
As these young men struggled with their addiction to pornography, each tried to overcome it on his own. But like a hiker trapped in a dangerous crevice, each needed help. Talking to the bishop became the key to changing the direction of their lives.
Blair: I prayed for strength to leave these temptations alone. I made a list of things such as prayer, scriptures, and clean thoughts that would help me draw close to God. But although I worked hard, it didn’t solve my problems.
The thought of confessing to the bishop made me cringe. I felt it would be better to tell the bishop about the problem when it was in the past. But I finally realized it wasn’t ever going to be in the past if I did not confess. If God already knew my struggles and I felt comfortable talking about them in prayer, why not talk face to face with God’s servant? Once I finally decided to confess, I felt a reassuring peace that it was the right thing to do.
If you are using pornography, you are not morally clean, even if you haven’t done anything else immoral. Rob talks about realizing he wasn’t worthy to go to the temple or on a mission.
Rob: I humbly bowed before the Lord in tears and pleaded for strength beyond my own. Night after night I prayed, and finally I knew I had to talk to my bishop about it. That was the hardest part—admitting to someone else that I had a problem. I kept thinking I could handle it myself and no one would ever have to know. I wanted it to be something just between God and me. But I finally matured to a point where I realized that was impossible. I approached my bishop and began a long and difficult repentance process.
Repentance may be difficult, but it is also comforting and filled with hope.
Speaking of those who struggle with pornography, one bishop says: “Help is available. The repentance process is just that—a process. It takes time to break negative patterns, and each small victory must be acknowledged, reinforced, and celebrated along the way. Sometimes those I have worked with still struggle, but at least they are not hiding anymore. They have begun to build a support system. They have realized they don’t have to face this challenge alone.”
A former bishop explains: “Besides my own family, I don’t think I loved anyone in my ward quite as much as I loved those who came to me with broken hearts, seeking forgiveness and peace. They cared more about what the Lord thought of them than what any person thought. I respected their courage and desire to make things right. I shed tears over them. I rejoiced when they were clean and whole again. And afterward I never looked at them as former sinners—only as beloved brothers and sisters.”
“Trust in the Lord,” counseled Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. “He knows what He is doing. He already knows of your problems. And He is waiting for you to ask for help” (“Trust in the Lord,” Ensign, May 1989, 36).
I felt relief when I stopped pretending. Sharing the burden with my bishop and my family meant I no longer had to deal with this addiction alone. Now I hold on to this support system.
A problem that dominated my youth could not be overcome overnight. This road has been long and hard—and it continues. It isn’t enough anymore to look happy. I want to be happy. I am coming to know Christ and to understand the Atonement. The Savior gives me the strength I need so my self-confidence and self-respect grow each day.
I was honest with my bishop. And when my dad talked to me, I was honest with him too. We worked on the problem together. We decided not to have the Internet in our home for a while. That was a big help.
I’m turning 16 soon, and I’m glad I decided not to let pornography control my life. I feel better about myself, and I think about young women differently than I did before. With my bishop’s help, I’m preparing now for the temple, a mission, and a great marriage one day.
It took a lot of time and sincere effort to break bad habits. Eventually I was judged by my priesthood leader as worthy to serve a mission. The best feeling in the world was to go to the temple and know I am clean. The Spirit I wanted to feel during all those teenage years came flooding into my heart and life. I am so thankful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
The adversary still works on me, trying to get me to backslide. But I have learned to put on the armor of God every day. I know Jesus Christ loves me, and I love Him.

Kate’s stomach dropped when the soccer field came into view from the car window. She knew the Bulldogs were the best in the league. But she didn’t think this many people would show up for tryouts.
She tightened her grip on her bag when she realized tryouts must have already started. It looked like they were doing drills. The girls were weaving between cones and sprinting across the grass. She was late! Kate jumped out of the car as soon as her mom pulled up.
She only made it a few steps before she remembered something important. She needed to say thank you! She circled back. “Thanks, Mom,” she called. “Thanks for driving me and for breakfast!”
Saying thank you wasn’t a big deal to a lot of people, but it was to Kate. Her favorite scripture story was the story of the ten lepers. She couldn’t believe that out of the ten people Jesus healed, only one said thank you! She’d made it a goal ever since to always say thank you.
Remembering that story made the tight feeling she had inside loosen a little bit. At least until she joined the other girls in doing drills and saw how good they were. She couldn’t help worrying. What if everyone else is way better than me? she thought. What if I’m the worst one here?
But soon the coach divided them into teams for a practice game, and Kate stopped thinking of anything other than the black-and-white ball moving like lightning from one girl to the next.
She was breathing hard by the time the coach blew the whistle to end tryouts. “Great job, everyone,” he said. “I’ll make decisions in the next few days and let you know.”
Kate walked slowly over to her bag. Her whole body was splattered with mud. And her legs felt like slow, heavy elephant legs. Worst of all, she had no idea if she’d even come close to making the team.
She was one of the last girls to leave. “Thank you,” she said, smiling at the coach. He just gave her a short nod and turned back to his clipboard. But Kate felt a little better as she walked away. She might not make the team, but at least she’d been grateful.
Later that night, Kate was washing dishes with her dad when the phone rang.
“I think it’s the soccer coach,” Dad said, looking at the number. Kate’s heart started pounding. He took the phone to the next room. Kate stayed at the sink, trying to focus all of her attention on washing the dishes.
When she heard Dad come in a few minutes later, she kept her eyes down. “What’d he say?” she asked.
“Just that my Katie is going to be a Bulldog,” he said, nudging her shoulder.
Her heart skipped a beat. “I made the team?” she said, finally looking up. Dad nodded with a big smile. Kate did a happy dance, splashing water over both of them.
“Hey!” Dad said with a laugh. “I have something even better to tell you once you quit being a human water fountain.” Kate paused mid-twirl. What could be better than making the number-one team in the league?
“Did you thank the coach at the end of tryouts?” he asked. Kate nodded. “Well, he wanted me to tell you that he was really impressed by that. Of the 34 people who tried out, you were the only one that said thank you. He said to thank you for saying thank you.”
Dad’s smile was even bigger than before. Kate knew her own smile was just as big. Just like the story of the ten lepers, she thought. Being grateful did matter!

As Heber J. Grant matured, his faith in God also matured. His wife lay critically ill, and Heber J. Grant called his children into her hospital room and told them that their mother was going to die. President Grant’s daughter, upon learning of this, pleaded with her father not to let her mother die. She pleaded with him to exercise his priesthood in her behalf. She and his other children left the room and President Grant knelt by his wife’s bed. Of that prayer President Grant said:
“I told the Lord, I acknowledged his hand in life and in death, in joy or in sorrow, in prosperity or adversity. I did not complain because my wife was dying, but that I lacked the strength to see my wife die and have her death affect the faith of my children in the ordinances of the gospel. I therefore pleaded with him to give to my daughter Lutie a testimony that it was his will that her mother should die. Within a few short hours, my wife breathed her last. Then I called the children into the bedroom and announced that their mamma was dead. My little boy Heber commenced weeping bitterly, and Lutie put her arms around him and kissed him, and told him not to cry, that the voice of the Lord had said to her, ‘In the death of your mamma the will of the Lord will be.’ Lutie knew nothing of my prayers, and this manifestation to her was a direct answer to my supplication to the Lord, and for it I have never ceased to be grateful.”

Gioele and Michele stared at the construction site across the street. They could see lots of metal beams and layers of cement.
“It doesn’t look much like a temple yet,” Gioele said.
“But it will someday,” Michele answered.
This was the first time the brothers had seen the place where the Rome Italy Temple was being built. Right now their family had to go all the way to Switzerland to visit the temple. But this new temple was only 30 minutes away from their home!
Michele and Gioele watched the big yellow trucks move piles of dirt.
“I think that’s where one of the spires will be,” Michele said, pointing to a spot near the front of the building.
Gioele nodded. “Look! Papà is coming,” he said. Their father was wearing his usual work outfit—church clothes with a white construction hat. He worked as an electrical engineer in the temple. They loved hearing about what he worked on each day. For example, one day he told them that the statue of Christ had arrived. Another time he told them about the baptismal font.
That night, Michele made sure to say his prayers and thank Heavenly Father for the temple. He felt warm inside whenever he prayed about it.
Weeks went by. The curved temple walls were covered with strong stone, and two tall spires grew toward the sky. A small visitors’ center was built nearby. Every once in a while, Gioele and Michele would go there to press their faces against the window and see what had changed.
Then one day they got a happy surprise.
“How would you like to see the angel Moroni statue put on top of the temple?” Mom asked. The families of the construction workers had all been invited to watch.
Gioele and Michele could hardly believe it. They were so excited!
The next morning they put on white shirts and ties. They walked around the temple with the other families. They even got to take a picture with the golden angel Moroni. It was huge!
Then the workers started moving the statue. Gioele watched the giant crane carefully raise angel Moroni to the top of one of the spires. A drone buzzed around taking a video. It was so cool!
Gioele thought about all the people who would learn about the Church by visiting the temple grounds. He thought about how lots of people were going to get married there and how people were going to get baptized for people who had died.
“Now it looks like a temple,” he told his brother. Michele smiled and nodded.
The brothers felt happy. They were excited to go inside the temple soon! Their testimony was growing right along with the building.

One evening I argued with my mom and felt pretty bad. So I decided I would pray. Although I was in a bad mood and didn’t want to be “spiritual,” I knew praying would help me feel happier and less argumentative. After my mom left the room, I started my prayer. “Dear Heavenly Father, I’ve come to Thee tonight because …” No. I opened my eyes and unfolded my arms; that sounded awkward. I tried again. “Heavenly Father, I need …” That also sounded strange. I felt Satan urging me to give up my prayer of asking Heavenly Father for help.
Suddenly I had a prompting to say thank you! So I did, and thoughts started spilling from my mind of all the many things I could thank my Father in Heaven for. When I was done thanking Him, I discussed the problem at hand.
Afterward I felt a wonderful peace inside me, the warm spiritual feeling that I know our Heavenly Father and my parents love me and that I am a child of God. I was able to apologize to my mother and accept her apology.

The Ozark Mountains! Karl could hardly wait to see them. The whole last week of school, Karl daydreamed about the backpacking adventure he was going to have as soon as school got out.
Finally, fifth grade was over, and Mom was helping Karl pack his backpack.
“Be sure to pack your bug spray,” she reminded. “And make sure to take your flashlight.”
“OK, Mom,” Karl said. But he was busy thinking about all the animals he hoped to see in the mountains.
“You need to take your whistle too,” Mom added, dropping his whistle into his backpack.
When Mom wasn’t looking, Karl pulled the whistle out of his pack. “I won’t need this,” he thought. “Mom doesn’t understand what adventure is about.”
Early the next morning, Karl and his friends rode in vans to the trailhead. When they finally arrived, all the boys cheered.
Karl was assigned to a trail group. Each group would hike and camp together with their leaders.
After hiking for several hours, Karl began to feel impatient. Several other groups had already passed his. “I’m with all the slowpokes,” Karl thought.
After lunch, Karl decided to blaze ahead. He knew he should tell an adult, but he didn’t want to be stuck with his group anymore.
A few hours later, it began to get dark. Karl couldn’t hear his group anymore. He started to retrace his steps, but as it got darker, he worried that he might fall down a steep incline or stumble near an overlook. He remembered Mom’s reminder to pack his flashlight. “I wish I’d listened better,” he thought.
It was nearly nighttime. Karl unrolled his sleeping bag and found a stick of beef jerky in his backpack. He listened to the strange sounds of the woods at night. Karl knew he had broken an important rule by leaving his group, and he wished he had listened to Mom better before he left.
The next thing Karl knew, something bright woke him up. “You found me!” he yelled happily. But it was only a firefly dancing in front of his face. Karl felt his heart start beating fast. What if no one ever found him?
As soon as the sun rose the next morning, Karl rolled up his sleeping bag and looked through his backpack for something else to eat. At the bottom of the pack he saw the whistle his mother had given him.
“Mom must have put it back in my bag,” he thought with relief. Karl knew it was best to stay where he was and wait for the others to find him. He started blowing his whistle as hard as he could, and soon he saw a search party coming down the trail.
When Karl got home, he gave Mom a huge hug. “I’ll never forget how important it is to listen to you and follow the rules so I can be safe,” he said. Then he handed Mom his whistle for safekeeping.

Tongues. Did the Prophet Joseph Smith ever speak in tongues? He did. Brigham Young met him for the first time in Kirtland. They had a meeting. Brigham was called upon to pray, and in the course of this prayer spoke in an unknown tongue. When he and the others rose from their knees and were seated, the Prophet addressed them: “Brethren, this tongue that we have heard is the gift of God, for He has made it known unto me, and I shall never oppose anything that comes from Him. I feel the spirit that Brother Brigham has manifested in this gift of tongues, and I wish to speak myself in the tongue that it will please the Lord to give me.” After then speaking for a time in that tongue, Joseph declared: “Brethren, this is the language of our father Adam while he dwelt in Eden; and the time will again come, that when the Lord brings again Zion, the Zion of Enoch, this people will then all speak the language which I have just spoken.”63

Well, one day when we’d piled into Uncle Chadwick’s office, he wasn’t there. What was there was his big Colt dragoon revolver, lying on his desk in a patch of windowlight. It was a handsome piece, full of mystery. Uncle Chadwick had used that very gun to shoot a huge bush pig that had come snorting into Horse Creek one day. The pig was foaming at the mouth and chasing Cylus Thombson’s girl who’d been playing marbles in the street. All it had taken was one shot from the Colt dragoon, and that prairie hog was laid out flatter than the road through town!

May I share with you an experience I had many years ago in the southern area of the United States when, after a stake conference, a woman came forward and asked, “Do you know Elder Delbert L. Stapley?” I replied that he and I were Apostles of the Lord, serving together in the Master’s work. She then handed me a copy of the Book of Mormon which contained an inscription and the signature of Delbert L. Stapley. She indicated the volume had been given to her grandmother when Elder Stapley was a young missionary. She added, “Could you present this book to Elder Stapley and tell him hundreds of my grandmother’s descendants have been converted by this volume; and they, in turn, conveyed the message of the Book of Mormon to others.”
I presented that signed copy of the Book of Mormon to Elder Stapley. He listened attentively when I explained where and how it had been given to me. Quietly he examined his signature and said, “This is one of the happiest days of my life.”

Before homes could be built, the Saints had to cut down the thickets and dig ditches to drain the swamps. Unfortunately they were unaware of the dangerous disease the pesky mosquitoes were carrying. Many workers became ill with malaria, or ague, as it was called then. Before long, hundreds of people in Nauvoo and across the Mississippi River in Montrose, Iowa, were very ill with severe chills and fever, and many were dying.
For a time Joseph and Emma nursed and cared for the sick, but then Joseph also became ill. For several days he lay overcome with the sickness. But on July 22, 1839, Joseph was prompted to arise and extend help to others. Filled with the Spirit of the Lord, he obediently arose and began to administer to the sick staying in his house and to the people in the tent city surrounding his home. Then he moved down to the river where many more lay too sick to move. Joseph went to the door of Brother Henry G. Sherwood’s tent and commanded him, in the name of Jesus Christ, to rise and come out. Brother Sherwood obeyed and was healed.
Elder Heber C. Kimball and others then accompanied the Prophet across the river to Montrose, where they visited the homes of the sick and, using the power of the priesthood, healed them. When Joseph arrived at the home of Elijah Fordham, the man was unconscious and near death. Joseph took Brother Fordham’s hand and said, “Brother Fordham, do you not know me?” There was no response at first, then the leaders could see the Spirit of God resting upon Elijah.
Joseph repeated his question, and Elijah whispered, “Yes!”
Joseph said, “Have you not faith to be healed?”
Elijah answered, “I am afraid it is too late. …”
Joseph asked next, “Do you believe that Jesus is the Christ?”
“I do, Brother Joseph,” Elijah said.
Then the Prophet Joseph said in a loud voice, “Elijah, I command you, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, to arise and be made whole!”
Elijah Fordham jumped from his bed and was healed!
Wilford Woodruff said, “The words of the Prophet were not like the words of man, but like the voice of God. It seemed to me that the house shook from its foundation.”
After the people recovered, they continued to build the beautiful city on a bend in the Mississippi River and to settle many other outlying cities. Once again the hard work and abilities of the Saints began to pay off, and the towns began to flourish. Soon Nauvoo had many shops and factories, including sawmills, brickyards, printing offices, flour mills, etc. Nauvoo craftsmen also produced matches, leather goods, rope and cord, gloves, bonnets, pottery, jewelry, and watches. Professional associations and schools, including a university, were established. The people also put on plays and held dances and parties.

The family talked of the times when Dad has been home: of camping trips in the Shenandoah Mountains when deer would eat right out of their hands, of water slides and visits to the Cherokee reservation, of playing baseball and football together, of trips to the beach.
“One time, just as we were leaving to pick up Dad, I slipped and cut my chin,” Nathan said. “Dad had been waiting 30 minutes before he found out we were at the emergency room.”