Gospel Story Finder

When I became a parent, I felt a heavy responsibility to support my children on the covenant path and make sure they followed Heavenly Father’s plan.
Beginning in my teenage years, I’d noticed counsel to parents in nearly every general conference, including the following:
President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994) told us that if we would “begin a serious study” of the Book of Mormon, we would “find greater power to resist temptation[,] … the power to avoid deception[,] … [and] the power to stay on the strait and narrow path.” So I knew my family would read the Book of Mormon as a family each day.
The family proclamation taught that “parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, … to teach them to love and serve one another, [and to] observe the commandments of God[.] … Husbands and wives—mothers and fathers—will be held accountable before God for the discharge of these obligations.”
President M. Russell Ballard (1928–2023) reminded us that in order to “protect and preserve and strengthen our homes and families in a world pulling so hard in opposite directions,” we had to “be consistent in holding daily family prayer and weekly family home evenings[,] … teach the gospel and basic values in your home[, and] … create meaningful family bonds that give your children an identity stronger than what they can find with their peer group or at school or anyplace else.”
As a young mother, I interpreted all this instruction to mean that it was my responsibility to save my children. I felt that if I did all these things with my family then my children would be inoculated from temptation and threats to their testimonies.
However, over the last few years as my children have faced increasing threats to their testimonies and some have stopped attending church, I have felt betrayed. I wondered why we didn’t seem to be experiencing President Benson’s promise that my children would be protected with power to resist temptation and deception and to stay on the strait and narrow path.
I approached the April 2022 general conference with a heavy heart. Another child had just informed me that she was struggling with her testimony. I started watching general conference asking the same question later addressed by Elder Adrián Ochoa of the Seventy in his Saturday afternoon talk, “Is the Plan Working?” In my mind, I feared it was not.
I prayed to know what I could do to help my children desire to return to church participation. Preferably immediately. Answers came during general conference. But the answers that came were not what I expected.
Three lessons helped me change my heart.
Sunday morning, Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said:
“Some misunderstand the promises of God to mean that obedience to Him yields specific outcomes on a fixed schedule. They might think, ‘If I diligently serve a full-time mission, God will bless me with a happy marriage and children’ or ‘If I refrain from doing schoolwork on the Sabbath, God will bless me with good grades’ or ‘If I pay tithing, God will bless me with that job I’ve been wanting.’ If life doesn’t fall out precisely this way or according to an expected timetable, they may feel betrayed by God. But things are not so mechanical in the divine economy. We ought not to think of God’s plan as a cosmic vending machine where we (1) select a desired blessing, (2) insert the required sum of good works, and (3) the order is promptly delivered.
“God will indeed honor His covenants and promises to each of us. We need not worry about that [see Doctrine and Covenants 82:10]. The atoning power of Jesus Christ—who descended below all things and then ascended on high [see Doctrine and Covenants 88:6] and who possesses all power in heaven and in earth [see Matthew 28:18]—ensures that God can and will fulfill His promises. It is essential that we honor and obey His laws, but not every blessing predicated on obedience to law [see Doctrine and Covenants 130:20–21] is shaped, designed, and timed according to our expectations. We do our best but must leave to Him the management of blessings, both temporal and spiritual.”
I’m sure I had heard similar teachings before, but this time it struck deep into my heart. This time I was ready to hear it, and I needed to hear it.
I was also reminded of an earlier general conference message from President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, then the Second Counselor in the First Presidency:
“We cannot earn our way into heaven; the demands of justice stand as a barrier, which we are powerless to overcome on our own.
“But all is not lost.
“The grace of God is our great and everlasting hope. …
“Salvation cannot be bought with the currency of obedience; it is purchased by the blood of the Son of God [see Acts 20:28].”
I knew this. I knew that I couldn’t earn my own way to heaven. But for some reason, I thought my obedience could earn my children’s way to heaven. The more I studied Elder Christofferson’s talk and others, the more I realized that I had been duped by Satan’s lie that my children didn’t need a Savior as long as I was a “perfect parent.”
As I studied and reflected on those talks, the Spirit helped me begin to understand that all the work to protect my children against temptation and deception and to shore up their testimonies is essential but does not guarantee my children will stay on the covenant path.
Agency is a crucial part of Heavenly Father’s plan. We are all given the gift of choosing for ourselves, even if that means our children may choose to turn away from what they’ve been taught. Even so, the Lord is always reaching out to His wayward children in love, and as earthly parents we can do the same.
In the October 2018 general conference, Elder Dale G. Renlund of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught:
“Though God wants us to be on the covenant path, He gives us the dignity of choosing.
“Indeed, God desires, expects, and directs that each of His children choose for himself or herself. He will not force us. Through the gift of agency, God permits His children ‘to act for themselves and not to be acted upon’ [2 Nephi 2:26].”
I find great comfort in what Elder Renlund said next: “No matter how long we have been off the path or how far away we have wandered, the moment we decide to change, God helps us return [see Alma 34:31]. From God’s perspective, through sincere repentance and pressing forward with a steadfastness in Christ, once back on the path, it will be as if we were never off. The Savior pays for our sins and frees us from the looming decrease in happiness and blessings.”
I know that we all need the Savior. This truth brings me profound relief. While it remains my responsibility to teach my children and support them on the covenant path, it is not my job to save myself or my children. That is the Savior’s work, and He is doing it perfectly. It is Heavenly Father’s work and His glory “to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” (Moses 1:39). He has a plan of salvation for all of His children. I need to trust in His plan, not my plan. And I’ve been trying to remember that He does keep His promises to protect and strengthen our families. I have faith that He is always inviting my children to come unto Him, and He will comfort and strengthen me as I strive to do the same.
A second lesson I learned was from Sister Amy A. Wright, First Counselor in the Primary General Presidency, who spoke immediately following Elder Christofferson. She taught: “Oftentimes we can find ourselves, like the lame beggar at the gate of the temple, patiently—or sometimes impatiently—‘wait[ing] upon the Lord [Isaiah 40:31].’ Waiting to be healed physically or emotionally. Waiting for answers that penetrate the deepest part of our hearts. Waiting for a miracle.”
My prayer going into that general conference had been for immediate results. I knew this wasn’t realistic, but I hadn’t anticipated learning lessons about the importance of waiting.
Sister Wright continued: “Waiting upon the Lord can be a sacred place—a place of polishing and refining where we can come to know the Savior in a deeply personal way. Waiting upon the Lord may also be a place where we find ourselves asking, ‘O God, where art thou?’ [Doctrine and Covenants 121:1]—a place where spiritual perseverance requires us to exercise faith in Christ by intentionally choosing Him again and again and again.”
I have given this concept a lot of thought since that general conference. Learning to wait, to be patient with my children and their choices, and to trust that the Lord is ever seeking after them has required a lot of effort on my part. I wish it were as simple as making the choice one time to believe and then being filled with peace for the rest of my days, as I pray that my children will choose to reach out to the Savior and exercise faith in Him. But it has not been that way for me. Some days it has felt easier to give in to hopelessness and despair, to give up because it may seem like “the plan isn’t working.” It has required great effort and spiritual perseverance to exercise faith and maintain hope in Heavenly Father’s plan when I’m seeing my children make choices that don’t reflect the divine truths I taught them. Yet every day that I choose hope over despair, I am choosing Him. Again and again and again.
This struggle has brought me closer to God. It has made me turn to Him through prayer. It has focused my scripture study. It has turned me to the temple. Most of all, it has made me immensely grateful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I am so grateful to know that He loves my children and that He gave His life for them.
Learning to wait upon the Lord has become a sacred place for me. It has become a refining experience.
Studying these general conference talks and focusing my gospel study has deepened my understanding of doctrine and strengthened my faith. I am learning “line upon line, precept upon precept“ (2 Nephi 28:30). to trust in the Lord and in Heavenly Father’s plan of redemption while still praying that my children will choose to follow Jesus Christ and His gospel. And I am looking forward to the next general conference to add to my learning and my testimony.
A third talk giving me hope from that conference was delivered by Elder Larry S. Kacher of the Seventy. As I have studied this talk, it has taught me powerfully. I have learned that the Lord allows us to experience the complexities of life to help us turn to Him. Elder Kacher taught that “there is simplicity on the other side of life’s complexities as we remain ‘[steadfast] in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope’ [2 Nephi 31:20].
“Part of life’s purpose is to allow these potential stumbling blocks to become stepping-stones as we climb what I call the ‘ladder of faith’—a ladder because it suggests that faith is not static. It can go up or down according to the choices we make.”
I have grown through this trial of my faith. In my puny wisdom, I want to spare my children from the trials of life. But would I deny my children this same growth? In God’s mighty wisdom, He has provided a path for us to follow, His plan of salvation. As we navigate that path, we encounter challenges that test our faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. It is up to us to use our agency to choose to follow Christ in our own ladder of faith, allowing our trials to be stepping-stones rather than stumbling blocks. Elder Kacher reminds us that “our progression is an eternal one.”
My children’s story is not over. God’s plan of salvation is real, and I need to have faith in His plan and trust in His purpose. As my children continue to exercise their agency, I strive to remember that the Lord will continuously reach out toward them and that He will help them return if they choose to do so. He is mighty to save.
I am finding hope in Proverbs 3:5–6:
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”
I am sure others are experiencing their own trials of faith. Yours may be similar to mine, or you may struggle with different questions. May I suggest that you take your concerns to the Lord before general conference and also through an ongoing study of general conference and the scriptures. Put in the effort to “hear Him”; then trust Him to teach you what you need to hear. I know that He loves us and that He has the power to save us and to save our children as we—and they—each individually choose to turn to Him in faith.
The author lives in Utah, USA.

One day Woody poked a hole in my pocket and Mom was cross.
“How did you get this hole in your pocket?” she asked.
“It just grew like that,” I said. I didn’t want to tell her Woody did it. “Did you have that stick in your pocket again?”
I just stared at my shoelaces. They were loose.
“You and that stick!” Mom exclaimed. “Why do you keep it?”
“He’s my friend, Mom.”
Then Mom smiled and told me it was good to have a friend.
I like Mom a lot and don’t want to upset her, so I had a talk with Woody. I told him not to make holes in my pocket again. He didn’t cry or anything. He just listened. Then I felt sorry for him, so I sailed him through the air. Woody liked to fly.
There is a field beside our house and we went for a walk. I saw a plant with pretty flowers. A butterfly was sitting on it. I held Woody very still and the butterfly landed on him. Then the butterfly landed on my hand. Its feet felt funny. When the butterfly flew away Woody and I dug the plant up. We took it home and planted it beside the garage. Morn was glad when she saw how pretty it was.
“I’m sorry about the hole in my pocket, Mom, it was my fault,” I admitted.
Mom hugged me and messed up my hair with her hand. I love my mom!

When I was 16, my mom allowed me to meet with the missionaries but told me I could never get baptized. I laughed. I didn’t need her to tell me that. I already knew I didn’t want to be baptized.
I first met the missionaries only to be polite. A friend asked me if I would be interested in talking with them, and I agreed because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
I kept meeting with the missionaries but didn’t take their lessons seriously, because I knew baptism wasn’t an option for me.
When the missionaries eventually invited me to be baptized, I said my mom wouldn’t allow it. My friend’s dad suggested we fast and ask Heavenly Father to help soften her heart.
I wasn’t convinced that fasting would change my mom’s heart, but I agreed to try. My friend’s family, the missionaries, and I all fasted for my mom to allow me to be baptized.
Shortly after our fast, my mom and I were having dinner together. Out of nowhere, she turned to me and said, “You know, if you want to get baptized, that’s your decision.”
I couldn’t believe what I’d heard.
She repeated herself. “You can get baptized.”
I was terrified. I could no longer use my mom as an excuse not to be baptized. I actually had to make the decision on my own. I started listening to the missionaries with an open mind.
When I started listening to the missionary lessons with real intent, I began to feel God’s love. It came as a feeling of peace and reassurance. Because of the love I felt for Him, I couldn’t bear the thought of being unclean before Him. I was willing to give up everything that was not in line with the commandments of God.
I remember thinking, “I wish I could redo my life.”
So when my friend casually mentioned that baptism was like being born again (see Mosiah 27:25), I could barely contain my excitement. I knew what I needed to do.
I was baptized and have since served a mission in Canada to help other people find the same joy I found in the gospel of Jesus Christ.
The joy I felt when I got baptized wasn’t a one-time feeling. I still feel that peaceful, clean feeling every time I pray for forgiveness.

Last February my stake went on a winter trek. It was very cold at the beginning of the day, so none of us worried about putting on sunscreen. But by the end of the day, I had very, very severe burns on my face. My dad, who is a doctor, told me that I had gotten third-degree burns on my face and that I wouldn’t be able to continue on the trek the second day. I was devastated. I had been looking forward to this trek for months now. I knew I was going to miss out on spiritual experiences. I couldn’t just stay in my tent, but I didn’t know what else to do.
So the next morning my dad gave me a priesthood blessing, asking that my face would heal and that it wouldn’t get burned again. I wrapped a piece of nylon around my face and borrowed one of my brother’s hats. I went out that day looking very strange, but I was able to go out and have spiritual experiences that I wouldn’t have been able to have if I hadn’t gone.
After the trek, my family and I were all worried about my face healing and how badly it was going to scar. But as the next couple of weeks came, the burns healed like a normal sunburn. I healed completely and have no scars on my face. I know that because of the Lord’s power through the priesthood, I was able to be healed. I’m so grateful for the priesthood, and I know Heavenly Father was watching over me.
Darity T., Arizona, USA

This counsel from the prophet helped one young man make an important decision.
“The month before this talk came out I was struggling with the decision of getting a tattoo,” he wrote. “I knew that it wasn’t a choice thing to do, but I still wavered in the thought of it being a sin. When the talk came out I knew there would be a wise purpose behind not getting a tattoo. I am so thankful the Lord would care enough about my friends and me that He would send a prophet to give us this message. Because of that talk I now enjoy having a body with no markings, and I have no regrets.”

Tim had cried all the way home. He and his father had gone to the Tigers-Jammers game to see his hero, Bobby Joe Rankin. Even though Bobby Joe had scored thirty points, the Tigers had lost badly. When Tim had asked Bobby Joe for his autograph after the game, the basketball player had said, “Scram, kid.” Tim couldn’t understand how a basketball star could be so mean.
“Tim, you have every right to be upset,” said his father. He put his arm around Tim’s shoulder as they sat together on the couch. “Being a star doesn’t give anyone the right to be rude to people. Perhaps you’d better choose a new hero. On the way out I told Uncle Bill what had happened. Maybe he can remind Bobby Joe that fans have feelings too.”
Uncle Bill was an assistant trainer for the Tigers. He helped the players when they got hurt, and he had given Tim and his father the tickets for the Tigers-Jammers game.
There was a knock on the door. Tim’s father got up to see who it was. “Tim, there’s someone here to see you.”
Tim looked up. And up and up. It was Bobby Joe Rankin—all six feet, nine inches of him! Bobby Joe smiled and walked in and sat on the floor, cross-legged, in front of Tim. In that position, their eyes were just about on the same level.
For a while no one said anything; then Bobby Joe said, “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Tim. I was upset about the game because I’d played terribly. I only got three rebounds, and I played bad defense. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.”
Tim still couldn’t believe that Bobby Joe was actually sitting in front of him. It was several moments before he could get out, “That’s … that’s OK, Mr. Rankin.”
“Call me Bobby Joe, Tim.”
“OK, Mr. Rankin—I mean Bobby Joe. Hey, how did you know where to find me?”
“Well, after I showered, your Uncle Bill was waiting for me. Boy, did I get a chewing out.”
“You let Uncle Bill chew you out?” Tim asked, surprised. “But you’re the star of the team. And you’re a lot bigger than my uncle.”
Bobby Joe grinned. “Yes, I am. But so what? The important thing is that your uncle was right and I was wrong. So I took the scolding like a man. And now I want to shake your hand and thank you for forgiving me.”
Bobby Joe stuck out a huge hand, and Tim shook it. They both grinned like crazy. Then Tim remembered what he hadn’t been able to get at the game. “Bobby Joe, may I have your autograph now?”
“I was hoping that you’d ask.” The basketball player reached into an inside coat pocket and brought out a photograph of himself. At the bottom he had written, “For my friend, Tim Rusick. Best of luck. Your friend, Bobby Joe Rankin.”
Along with the picture were two tickets for the Tigers’ next home game, two weeks away.
“Wow! Thanks, Bobby Joe!”
“The seats are right behind the Tigers’ bench. Best seats in the house. I’ll play much better with my friends rooting for me!”
Tim could only repeat, “Thanks, Bobby Joe!”
The big man got up and headed for the door. As Tim’s father held the door open for him, Bobby Joe shook hands with Tim’s father and winked at Tim, saying, “See you at the game.”
After Bobby Joe had left, Tim gave the tickets to his father and stared happily at the picture in his hands. He looked up at his father and asked, “Dad, do you think it would be all right if I kept Bobby Joe Rankin for my hero?”
Mr. Rusick smiled. “I think that would be just fine.”

Prayer was a very important part of my life. As a child, I was taught to pray. I remember one time when I was riding out to the ranch with my father. As he drove, he started humming or singing, “‘Ere you left your room this morning, Did you think to pray?’”* Then he glanced at me and asked, “Son, did you pray this morning?”
“No.”
“Don’t you pray in the mornings?”
“I pray at night,” I replied.
At that moment, he took the time to explain to me the importance of praying in the morning and at night. From that time on, it became part of my life to pray both morning and night. In 2 Nephi 26:15 [2 Ne. 26:15], we are told that “the prayers of the faithful shall be heard.” We often experienced that scripture. I learned in my youth that as we were faithful and did our part, the Lord blessed us.

When Elder Jeremy R. Jaggi was a teenager, his seven-year-old sister, Kristen, contracted a bacteria that attacked her brain. Doctors said she wouldn’t survive.
Young Jeremy knelt beside his bed in the family’s home in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA, and pleaded with the Lord to know why she had to die so young. His sister, however, received a priesthood blessing and lived.
This was a catalyst for 17-year-old Jeremy to “get himself right with God,” leading him to seriously read the Book of Mormon for the first time. Later he served as a full-time missionary in the Ohio Cleveland Mission.
Jeremy would return to his knees in heartfelt prayer years later as his wife, Amy, was in pre-term labor with their third child. “At that moment, I felt an overwhelming peace—a peace that can only be described as the loving arms of a Heavenly Father enveloping me with the warmth of the Holy Ghost,” he said.
That peace carried him through the brief time the baby lived and the months of grief that followed with another miscarriage. “We’re all tried in our way,” he said, “but we still ‘count it all joy’ [James 1:2] that the Savior has provided a way for us to have peace and happiness.”

The bomb went off as suddenly and with as much impact as the one dropped on Hiroshima. I always thought they were happy; it was nearly their 18th wedding anniversary. You never think something like this can happen to you; it’s always the other guy. But this was real, and it was happening to me. My parents wanted a divorce.
Dad moved out. Then I realized what my family meant to me.
I was praying pretty regularly, and I felt I was receiving help. But one place I didn’t get any help was from my church; the members didn’t seem to care. People would say how sad it was, but they really wouldn’t listen. I felt there must be some way to hold a family together forever.
I didn’t know where to start looking, but I could always talk to Jill, a friend of mine. She said she was LDS, and she told me something about her church. We talked about things like temple marriage and the eternal family unit. I went to a family home evening at Jill’s house. Not every family sets aside one night specifically for each other. Her family members were in tune with each other; they weren’t just a bunch of people living together. Jill said she didn’t have all the answers, but she knew someone who could help me.
I became acquainted with the missionaries. Once a week I’d meet with them for a discussion. Some really hit home and helped with my problems. After reading the Book of Mormon I felt something inside hinting that maybe it was true. I attended sacrament and other Church meetings. I began to feel that maybe this church did have Jesus Christ at its head.
Then the big question came up. Did I want to become a member of the Church? I believed the Lord had chosen Joseph Smith to restore the truth, and I felt it was the Lord’s church, but I also realized I would have to live up to his standards. I thought and prayed until the answer came: My family-to-be would be an eternal family.

My grandparents used to take me to church while my parents stayed home, but that started to change the day the missionaries came to our house to visit my family. They taught my mom about the Church. When I turned eight, Mom and I got baptized on the same day. That was really neat. My whole family started going to church together. We started praying, paying tithing, having faith in Jesus Christ, repenting, and studying the scriptures.
My parents saw how the Spirit touched our lives. Mom and Dad had the desire to be sealed in the temple. They couldn’t wait for me and my brothers to be sealed to them. They went to the bishop to ask how they could do this. They worked hard to prepare for the temple.
We picked a day to be sealed in the temple. We invited Grandma and Grandpa and friends too. Grandma was so excited she cried. She told us that it is important to be reverent in the temple. She also told us we would all be dressed in white.
When we got to the temple, my three brothers and I went into a room where we sang songs and played quietly while we waited for Mom and Dad. I felt the Spirit there.
Then my brothers and I got dressed in white clothes and went to see Mom and Dad in the sealing room. They were dressed in white too. They looked so happy when they saw us. We all knelt together and put our hands on Mom’s and Dad’s hands. My baby brother, Caden, put his hand on the very top and smiled at us all. We were so happy at that moment. I could really feel the Spirit.
Mom said it was the most special day. It was my favorite day too because I knew we can be together forever. That made me feel happy.

In October 1984, I was working as a quality control supervisor for a paper mill in Orani, Bataan, Philippines. Like most paper mills, ours recycled waste paper. One day, the book Meet the Mormons was included in a load of magazines. I got curious, took it into my office, and started reading it. I learned about Joseph Smith and his vision, and I readily accepted that God would reveal himself to a boy. I did not understand the section on the priesthood hierarchy, but I liked the Relief Society section. I read the book several times.
For many months, I had been trying to find more meaning in life. I had always been an active Catholic, and had even attended several meetings to become a Franciscan nun. Still, I felt like a piece of wood drifting in the ocean.
Two weeks later, I was inspecting the raw material in one of the delivery trucks when I noticed a blue book. It was the Book of Mormon! I asked the driver if I could have it. I took it back to my office and started reading. Inside the front cover were the steps of prayer. “Maybe I should try praying this way,” I told myself. It also listed the pages that told of Christ’s visit to America. I eagerly turned to those pages. Here were the Beatitudes and other teachings Jesus gave to the Jews! Were these chapters not copied from the New Testament? Then I realized that he was the very same Christ. Surely he would give the same teachings. I wondered if Christ might have come to the Philippines, too. I turned to 1 Nephi. Who were Lehi, Nephi, and Laman? They were such strange names. I treasured both books.
Then, in late November, a friend introduced me to Karen Gerdes, a Latter-day Saint from the United States who was serving as a Peace Corps volunteer in the Philippines. Karen was working in the area of Pantalan Luma, which had been hit by a tidal wave.
There was something about Karen that I had not seen in others. It wasn’t just that her eyes were blue. Her smile and her whole countenance were different. I could feel her sincerity. Happiness and love radiated from her.
I wondered why she would leave the comfort of her home, live in a poverty-stricken area in hot, humid weather, and eat foreign food—all without a salary. Why would she care? Were all Mormons like her?
A few months after I met Karen, I told her, “I am ashamed, because I should be helping my people.” I asked if there was anything I could do to help with her projects. That started our friendship. I would ask her questions about religion. I knew she understood me, because she had also been a Catholic. She did not try to convince me, but she answered my questions and gave me Church pamphlets.
Then in March 1985, Karen invited me to a fireside. At the fireside, I noticed a poster about baptism for the dead. That was new to me. I memorized the scripture reference. The sister missionaries showed a filmstrip called Run and Not Be Weary. I accepted the Word of Wisdom right there. Then they showed The Windows of Heaven. I had never known that a tithe meant ten percent. I resolved to start giving ten percent and to not cheat God.
I found myself explaining to the members how I viewed tithing: “It is like when you go fishing. You use bait—tithing—and then you catch a fish—a blessing.” Then I used another comparison: “When you remove the sweet potato tops, they produce more tops and sweet potatoes, too.”
But I did not like being called an “investigator,” and I didn’t like to be pushed. When members asked if I would like the missionaries to teach me at home, I said no. But I invited the sister missionaries for dinner the following Saturday. They came and showed slides of a refugee camp where they worked, but nothing about religion was discussed. Before they left, they gave me several pamphlets, which I promised to read.
The next week, I went to visit my mother in Manila. I asked her where I could find a priest to answer my questions. She suggested that I go to a Bible class my brother and sister were attending. I did as she said, praying in my heart that I would be able to ask my question. To my surprise, the priest began to explain the importance of baptism. I wasted no time, but raised my hand and asked, “Was there baptism for the dead before, as stated in 1 Corinthians 15:29 [1 Cor. 15:29]?” He read the verse aloud, then looked at his watch and dismissed the class. He said, “I will talk to you in my office.” He got his Greek translation of the Bible and other books, then started explaining the Resurrection. I said, “That is not the issue; I believe in the Resurrection.” After more than two hours of discussion, I was still not satisfied. He lent me two books to read.
The next day I asked the same question of an older priest. He told me that baptism for the dead was no longer necessary.
On April 1, the paper mill was temporarily shut down. I was reading a pamphlet called The Plan of Salvation when I began to feel a certainty that what I was reading was true. The Holy Ghost was bearing witness, making everything clear to me. I knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet, that the Church was true. I was crying. I had found something so precious. I wanted to tell my co-workers, but they would not understand. I went home early and found Karen at my home. “I know that the plan of salvation is true,” I told her, “and I want to be baptized.” She arranged for the missionaries to teach me.
The following day, I had my first discussion with Elder Johnson and Elder Barangan. I had such a strong desire to be baptized that I went to their home very early the next morning. When I told them of my desire, Elder Johnson told me that to be baptized I must obey the Word of Wisdom and attend church. I said, “I started obeying the Word of Wisdom when I saw the filmstrip, and I have attended the church several times.” They taught me three more discussions. Then on Easter Sunday, 7 April 1985, I was baptized. I felt that this was the very moment I had waited for since I was born.
That day was also Fast Sunday. I fasted, shared my testimony in sacrament meeting, and paid my tithing for the first time. After sharing my testimony, I had an even stronger conviction that I had made the right decision. I felt complete—no longer drifting, but with sure direction. I know that the Spirit bore witness to me.
Since my baptism, I have served a mission and have been an ordinance worker in the Manila Philippines Temple.
I feel so blessed to have the gospel in my life. I know that the Book of Mormon I rescued from the trash is the book that rescued me.

One evening when I was 11 years old, I heard a commotion outside my window. I looked out the window, and in the street were newsboys carrying stacks of newspapers in their arms announcing the news that President George Albert Smith, the eighth President of the Church, had died. President Smith had been the only prophet I had known in my short time on earth. It was during his administration that I first felt the stirrings of a testimony, and even then I knew how important God’s prophets are. I had been taught in Primary and in my home by loving parents that President Smith was our earthly link to our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, that They could talk to me through him. What an empowering concept for a young girl! The Spirit had confirmed in my 11-year-old mind that this was true. When I learned of his death, I felt a tremendous loss.
However, just five days after President Smith’s death, President David O. McKay stood in this tabernacle and spoke to those assembled. He had just been unanimously sustained as the prophet, seer, and revelator by the Saints. As he brushed back the tears, he said: “No one can preside over this Church without first being in tune with the head of the Church, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He is our head. This is his Church. … With his guidance, with his inspiration, we cannot fail.”
I quickly came to love and revere President McKay just as I had loved and revered President Smith. In fact, I remember seeing him stand at this pulpit, with his white hair gleaming, and thinking he looked just like an angel.

Bishop Frías and his wife have been members since their youth. But for others, baptized later in life, Church service quickly becomes a concentrated course in leadership.
Ernesto Merchán, a member of the Church since 1988, is a counselor in the bishopric of his ward and previously served as elders quorum president. He tries very hard to keep his baptismal covenants because “the Lord told us, in the scriptures, to be a light to others.” (See Matt. 5:16.) Brother Merchán hopes that some of his relatives will see the light of the gospel.
His wife saw it, after two years of watching his growth in the Church and feeling the love Church members extended to her. Just one year after her own baptism, Carmen Merchán was called as ward Relief Society president. Her lack of experience and the poverty among members in her area are not daunting, she says, so long as she can feel the Lord’s help in her calling. If nothing else, she adds, “I can love them” as the Savior taught.
“Here in Ecuador, as in other countries, the Lord is the same,” Ernesto Merchán says. “The gospel is the same. We are one family.”

In response to the article entitled “How to Say No and Keep Your Friends” in the February 1988 issue, I would like to say that sometimes it’s harder to say no to people who are LDS. I appreciate the experiences told in this article about people saying no to their nonmember friends. I commend them! However, sometimes it is overlooked that people who have LDS friends have to say no too.
I was at a party on Halloween night with some friends, most of them from my Sunday School class, all of them good LDS people. We started watching a movie that was not exactly up to our standards. I suggested we turn it off and watch something else, and to my surprise I received answers like “It’s not that bad!” “It isn’t even rated R.” Quite truthfully, I was shocked. Leaving my friend’s house that night was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I was disappointed to find that I stood alone, all alone. It hurt more to see my LDS friends compromise their standards than it would have to see nonmember friends watch that movie.
Sometimes people outside of Utah think that we have it easy here, and in some ways we do, but there are challenges here just like anywhere else, and sometimes it’s harder because people expect more. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that I have it harder than anyone else. In fact, in some ways I have it easier. Let me conclude by saying this: Saying no is hard in any situation, especially one where you know your friends should stand behind you. But blessings will come if you believe in Christ and do as he would have you do.
Name withheld

Chita’s Christmas Tree
When Chita and Papa go to look for a Christmas tree, Mama packs them peanut butter sandwiches. But they get hot, sugary waffles from the waffle man and give the sandwiches to Henry, their horse (he loves them!). Chita finds the perfect tree, and Papa carves her name on the trunk. Will Santa Claus find it and bring it Christmas Eve? Chita worries about it as she helps Mama bake.

A decade ago, while visiting Rwanda, my wife and I struck up a conversation with another passenger at the Kigali airport. He lamented the unfairness of the genocide and poignantly asked, “If there were a God, wouldn’t He have done something about it?” For this man—and for many of us—suffering and brutal unfairness can seem incompatible with the reality of a kind, loving Heavenly Father. Yet He is real, He is kind, and He loves each of His children perfectly. This dichotomy is as old as mankind and cannot be explained in a simple sound bite or on a bumper sticker.

I return to the question posed by our fellow passenger in Kigali when he lamented the unfairness of the Rwandan genocide and asked, “If there were a God, wouldn’t He have done something about it?”

Without minimizing the suffering caused by the genocide, and after acknowledging our inability to comprehend such suffering, we replied that Jesus Christ has done something about infuriating unfairness. We explained many gospel precepts concerning Jesus Christ and the Restoration of His Church.

Afterward, our acquaintance asked, with tears in his eyes, “You mean there is something I can do for my dead parents and uncle?”

We said, “Oh, yes!” We then testified that all that is unfair about life can be made right through the Atonement of Jesus Christ and that by His authority families can be joined together forever.

Linda Buysse-Vergauwen, who teaches elementary school in Belgium, was on a study trip with a colleague and gave her a copy of the March issue along with a special note and an invitation to come to hear her speak in church on Easter Sunday. The friend went and had a positive experience. “The special issue of the Liahona gave me the opportunity to put a little seed in the heart of a friend,” Sister Buysse-Vergauwen said.

Youth in Pleasant Hill, California, decided to make their community a better place to live by painting over a graffiti-covered area on a sound wall. City leaders provided paint and paint rollers, and the youth got to work, covering about a half mile of wall before they were finished.
The youth were invited to a city council meeting, where they were presented with a certificate of appreciation for their hard work. The youth say they get a good feeling whenever they pass by “their” wall.

Last summer, I was baptized. The water was very warm. When my dad lifted me out of the water, I felt very good inside. The Holy Ghost testified that I was doing what Heavenly Father wanted me to do. I was very happy.
When I was baptized, I made a covenant, or a two-way promise, with Heavenly Father that I would follow Him and keep His commandments. He promised to help me and guide me with the gift of the Holy Ghost.
After my baptism, the bishop welcomed me as a member of the Church and taught me a lesson. He asked me to stand on a chair and look at a picture of Jesus Christ that was hanging on the wall. I could also see a reflection of myself in the glass of the picture’s frame. It taught me that Jesus will always be with me when I need Him.
I know that getting baptized is a great thing. I am so glad I made the decision to get baptized, and I know you will be happy if you do so too!
Illustration by Simona Love

When I served with my husband as he presided over a mission, we went to the airport to pick up a large group of missionaries one morning. One particular young man caught our eye. He seemed sad, weighed down, almost distraught. We watched him carefully that afternoon. By evening, this young man made a belated confession, and his leaders determined that he needed to return home. Although we were very sad that he had been dishonest and had not repented before coming on his mission, on the way to the airport we sincerely and lovingly praised him for having the courage to come forward, and we pledged to stay in close contact with him.

This great young man was blessed to have wonderful parents, great priesthood leaders, and a supportive, loving ward. After a year of working hard to fully repent and partake of the Savior’s Atonement, he was able to return to our mission. It is difficult for me to describe the feelings of joy we felt as we picked up this young man from the airport. He was full of the Spirit, happy, confident before the Lord, and anxious to fulfill a faithful mission. He became an outstanding missionary, and later my husband and I had the privilege of attending his temple sealing.