Gospel Story Finder

I learned another lesson from my mother. As a girl she had diphtheria and nearly died. Later she had spinal meningitis. Her father died young, and so my mother and her brothers helped support their mother.
All her life, she felt the effects of the trials of illness. In her last 10 years of life, she required multiple operations. But through it all, she proved faithful to the Lord, even when bedridden. The only picture on her bedroom wall was of the Savior. Her last words to me on her deathbed were these: “Hal, you sound as if you are getting a cold. You ought to take care of yourself.”
At her funeral the last speaker was Elder Spencer W. Kimball. After saying something of her trials and her faithfulness, he said essentially this: “Some of you may wonder why Mildred had to suffer so much and so long. I will tell you why. It was because the Lord wanted to polish her a little more.”

When I was very little, I suffered various forms of abuse and mistreatment from a member of my family and someone else outside of my family. Because of that abuse, I grew up with fear, hatred, and a lot of resentment in my heart. At times I believed I was the cause of what had happened to me, and I felt guilty. I felt like the dirtiest human being in the world. And I carried those feelings with me growing up.
However, everything changed when I was 20 and missionaries knocked on my door to share a special message with me—a message full of faith, love, and hope. They told me about the gospel of Jesus Christ.
As I listened to them, I felt the peace and tranquility in my heart that had been missing for most of my life. I could honestly feel that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ truly loved me and that my value had not diminished despite everything I had gone through. Could this be the way to finally be free of the guilt and shame I had carried with me throughout my life?
The missionaries continued to visit and teach me, and only two months later I was baptized. I had never been so happy in my entire life. As I kept learning more and more, the principles and teachings of the gospel showed me how I could (it was actually possible!) find the strength to move forward with peace, forgive, and end the conflict I had carried for so long in my heart.1
I was especially comforted by the words of Elder Patrick Kearon of the Seventy during general conference when he spoke of abuse. He taught:
“You are not defined by these terrible things that have been done to you. You are, in glorious truth, defined by your eternally existing identity as a son or daughter of God …
“With arms outstretched, the Savior offers the gift of healing to you. With courage, patience, and faithful focus on Him, before too long you can come to fully accept this gift. You can let go of your pain and leave it at His feet.”2
I know now that I am not guilty of what happened to me—I was a victim of others’ terrible actions.
I am so thankful for the healing power of Jesus Christ. Learning about Him and striving to follow Him has helped me move forward with the knowledge that He suffered for me and understands everything I have been through. Learning that He bore my burdens alone so that I would never have to was an amazing realization for me and has deepened my faith in Him.
But my own turmoil about my abuse wasn’t the only part of me that needed healing. I learned that Jesus Christ, through the power of His Atonement, will not only cleanse us of our sins but also comfort us and help us to move forward, grow, and forgive those who have hurt us deeply.
Forgiving is hard, and sometimes it may seem impossible. It did for so long in my case. But as I focused on recovering from the repercussions of abuse, I realized that I could work toward forgiveness slowly over time because it was necessary for complete recovery.
President Russell M. Nelson recently taught us about ending conflicts in our lives. He said: “If forgiveness presently seems impossible, plead for power through the atoning blood of Jesus Christ to help you. As you do so, I promise personal peace and a burst of spiritual momentum.”3
To free my soul from hatred and resentment, I relied on the Savior to help me truly forgive and let go of the conflict in my heart. It was a long process, but as I exercised faith, I did feel the reassuring love and peace of the Savior replace those negative emotions I had carried for so long. I was finally able to realize that although the past can’t be erased or changed, it can be accepted and overcome, and that helped me feel so much hope for the future.
Despite what I believed when I was young, the Lord is with us through everything. He loves us with infinite love. I was so hopeless about my life circumstances, but He showed me how He can help us turn our worst suffering into beautiful faith and strength.
I love this gospel and have no doubts about the path I have taken as a disciple of Jesus Christ. I know in my heart that Jesus Christ and my Heavenly Father love me—and each one of us. They stand ready to help us do the seemingly impossible, especially if the impossible involves forgiving the seemingly unforgivable. Be strong, persevere, have faith, and you will be very blessed.
I know I have been.

Almost exactly five years ago, I was a struggling new mission president trying to keep it together even as I felt like I was falling apart at the seams. I was overcome with the problems and pressures of presiding over a mission—tormented by my own feelings of inadequacy—overcome by how unprepared and unworthy I felt. I was in desperate need for strength and spirituality beyond my own. As we concluded an area mission presidents’ seminar, I was at an emotional and spiritual low points. For a few days we had been instructed by the visiting general authorities in all the things we needed to be doing to better train missionaries and to more effectively push the work of the Kingdom forward. It was both inspiring and intimidating—intimidating because I felt that, by comparison to the other mission presidents, I was not measuring up and I was fearful that I would never be able to measure up. I was afflicted with a bad case of the “gotta dos” and “oughta bes.”

At the conclusion of the seminar we attended a temple session in the Winter Quarters Temple. As we completed the endowment session and passed through the veil into the celestial room, Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf, greeted each mission president with a warm embrace and the words, “I love you.”

I’m not sure that President Uchtdorf even remembers doing this, but I will never forget it. It may not have been a big deal to him or the others, but it was a monumentally transforming moment for me. I felt the love of the Savior emanating from this special witness into my soul. It was as if I was being embraced by the Lord himself—I was truly “encircled” in the arms of the Master’s love. That hug and his words “I love you” and “You are doing a great job” strengthened and inspired and motivated me more than all the teaching and training done in the meetings.

When an airline reservation agent asked a member of the Church for an email address, the member answered, “ldschurch.org.”
“What church is that?” the agent asked.
“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” the member answered.
“I go to work for days at a time without ever being able to speak about the Lord,” the agent said. “Knowing that I am speaking to another Christian just makes my day.”
The Church member quickly updated his airline profile with the Church’s new email address: ChurchofJesusChrist.org.1

When my son was three years old and my daughter was four, they were part of a neighborhood preschool group. That winter those of us in charge of the group decided to do a Christmas project that included having each child donate a toy to a needy family.
We taught many lessons in the preceding weeks about how gratitude and sharing with others make us happy. I told my children to start thinking about which toys they would like to give, wanting them to have the experience of choosing what to give. Our family finances were limited, and I was curious which of their few toys they would be willing to part with.
One Saturday morning I told the children it was time to select their donation. I helped Hunter wrap the truck he had chosen and then went to see how Mikelle was doing. The scene I witnessed from the doorway of her room brought tears to my eyes.
Mikelle was holding her favorite doll, Mella, dressed in her best doll clothing, and she was singing to her. Then she tucked a small blanket into the bottom of a gift bag. She smiled at the doll, hugged and kissed her, and lovingly placed her in the bag. Seeing me, she said, “Mella’s all ready, Mom. I hope someone will love her.”
Knowing how my daughter felt about this doll, I was stunned she was giving her away. I almost wanted to tell Mikelle she didn’t have to give up her favorite doll, but I stopped myself.
“She understands giving,” I thought. “She is giving her very best.”
Suddenly I recognized that part of me was willing to give and share but not at too great a personal sacrifice. I had placed limits on my charity, and I knew I needed to change.
I thought of how Heavenly Father gave up His only perfect Son and allowed Him to suffer and die for me. I pictured a loving Father in Heaven kissing His Beloved Son and sending Him to earth as a baby, hoping that we would love and follow Him.
The Savior Himself held nothing back and gave everything He had to give.
I wondered if Mikelle would change her mind before the Christmas program, when the toys were to be donated, but she did not. I wondered if she would later regret her choice and feel sad, but she did not.
Seeing my daughter’s Christlike example, I decided that whether I have much or little to give, I would always cheerfully give my best when I have an opportunity to share.

Several years ago one of our older boys, who was five or six years old at the time, was sitting on the sofa in our front room. It was summer—midday—and the sun was shining through our large front windows. He was taking a few moments out from his play to read and rest. As I looked at him with the open book resting on his lap, he seemed to be sleeping. Thinking that it would be more comfortable for him to lie down, I went over to him and began putting my arms under his legs and around his back. As I touched him, he suddenly moved and said, “What ya doin’, Dad?”

In response I said that I was simply trying to make him more comfortable. In his most direct way he said that he wasn’t tired and didn’t want to nap.

“What do you mean, Son? Your eyes were closed, and you seemed to be sleeping.”

“I wasn’t sleeping, Dad,” he said. “I was just watching it rain.”

“Watching it rain.” The book was about rain. This young boy had taken his life experiences with rain and combined them with that which he had been reading. Inside his mind, despite the fact that the sun was shining brightly through the windows, he was “watching it rain.” He had internalized the message. It had become a part of him, so much so that when he wanted he could recall and visualize in his mind the experience of rain.

Stacey White, a mother of four in Indiana, USA, was longing for an opportunity to help a neighbor, friend, or even a stranger during the week she studied Matthew 25:35–40, where the Savior teaches that serving “the least of these” is, in fact, serving Him (verse 40).
“Because I am a busy stay-at-home mom of four young children, I sometimes feel frustrated that I’m not able to be of service as often as I would like,” Sister White explained. “I am so busy taking care of my own family’s needs that I have little time for anything extra.”
Sister White noted that as she continued to study, cross-reference, and ponder these scriptures, praying for opportunities to serve, “the week seemed to take on a higher level of stress than what normally comes with motherhood”—certainly not what she had hoped for.
“There were school projects to help with, more than the usual messes to clean up, sibling fights to referee, and a mountain of laundry that seemed to regenerate itself. The to-do list seemed to never come close to being completed. My prayer seemed to go unanswered as I longed for the free time and energy to serve someone other than my husband and children.”
But then, partway through the week, Sister White came to a realization: just because she didn’t have the opportunity to serve outside her home did not mean that the Lord had let her prayer go unanswered, and it didn’t mean that she hadn’t been serving in meaningful ways.
“The Lord was answering my prayer by giving me those opportunities within my own family,” she says. “At times I feel that the service within my own family somehow doesn’t count, that in order to be classified as service, it must be outside the home, rendered to someone other than a family member. But with my new understanding, while I was making beds, doing laundry, chauffeuring kids, and doing all my daily duties as a mother, I did them more joyfully. My tasks didn’t seem quite so mundane, and I realized I was making a difference for my family.”

In stark contrast, I share the example of another young man. Through the years I have watched how his parents have taught him from infancy to unwaveringly live the commandments of God. By example and precept, they nurtured him and their other children in truth. They encouraged the development of discipline and sacrifice to obtain worthy goals. This young man chose swimming as an activity that could instill in his character these qualities. The early-morning practice sessions required discipline and sacrifice. Over time he excelled in that sport.
Then came the challenges—for example, a championship swim meet on Sunday. Would he participate? To help his team win the championship, would he rationalize an exception to his rule of not swimming on Sunday? No, he would not yield, even under intense peer pressure. He was peppered with derisive comments, even physically abused. But he would not yield. The rejection of friends, the loneliness, and the pressure brought times of sadness and tears. But he would not yield. He was learning firsthand what each of us must come to know, the reality of Paul’s counsel to Timothy: “All that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution” (2 Tim. 3:12). I have observed how over the years this consistent pattern of righteous living—woven from hundreds of correct decisions, some in the face of great challenge—has developed a character of strength and capacity. Now, as a missionary, he is respected by his peers for his capacity to work, his knowledge of truth, his unwavering devotion, and his determination to share the gospel. One who earlier was rejected by his peers now has become a leader of his peers.

A few years ago, my neighbor’s husband died. She was really sad.
I prayed to know what I could do to help. The thought came into my mind to give her flowers on Valentine’s Day. However, I needed to earn the money to buy the flowers. I made it a goal in my Children’s Guidebook to earn the money.
I earned the money by doing different jobs for others. My grandma paid me to clean up her garden and the leaves in her yard. At home, I earned money by clearing the brush behind our shed. It took months of hard work to earn enough money.
Finally I had enough money to go to a store and buy the flowers. Valentine’s Day came, and I gave my neighbor the flowers with a note. She was really happy. I felt warm and happy too. I thanked Heavenly Father for helping me do what He wanted me to do.

When I recently faced the daunting task of choosing two counselors, I wondered how I could possibly choose just two from twelve men whom I love and respect.

Because I know that good inspiration is based upon good information, I prayerfully met one-on-one with each Apostle.6 I then sequestered myself in a private room in the temple and sought the Lord’s will. I testify that the Lord instructed me to select President Dallin H. Oaks and President Henry B. Eyring to serve as my counselors in the First Presidency.

Some years ago, as our youngest son, Clark, was approaching his 12th birthday, he and I were leaving the Church Administration Building when President Harold B. Lee greeted us. I mentioned to President Lee that Clark would soon be 12, whereupon President Lee asked him, “What happens to you, Clark, when you turn 12?” This was one of those times when a father prays that a son will be inspired to give a proper response. Without hesitation Clark said to President Lee, “I will be ordained a deacon.”

The answer was the one President Lee had sought. He then counseled our son, “Remember, it is a great blessing to hold the priesthood.”

Perhaps we can be helped by a story about Johnny Miller, who recently won $500,000 in a one-million-dollar golf tournament, the first of its kind in the world. Several years ago he came to speak to the missionaries and youth in London. The year before that he was the British Open champion. He came as a champion; he spoke as a champion.

The next year Johnny Miller came to speak to us again. He had missed the cut on the second round of the tournament, and the headlines in the London papers and throughout the world revealed that the champion had not made it to the finals. Now he faced another group of missionaries and young people, and he had a hard time deciding whether he could make it. Like the champion he is, he decided to come. He stood and, gripping the sides of the podium, trembled all over. The first words he said were of great courage: “I don’t know why you feel you can go through life without a score card.” And then he proceeded to give his testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and to talk about our score cards of life.

When our daughter Berta was born, we were grateful to finally have a baby after two unsuccessful pregnancies. Soon we realized that Heavenly Father had sent to us a very special spirit. As the oldest in the family, she was the peacemaker and the ringleader. Berta was a ­master at coming up with the silliest family jokes, and she loved to imitate my accent, which brought us a lot of fun. She loved writing and creating art, but above all she had a compassionate heart. Berta was always looking for opportunities to serve and nurture those who are often disenfranchised, forgotten, and overlooked.

Berta’s wit and command for words were never lacking. She often used this gift during her untiring advocacy work for the Latter-day Saint LGBTQ+ community. Berta loved and sought to follow the Savior by being a humble servant to those who needed love and care. She once told me that every time she served others, she felt she was breaking bread with the Savior. Berta especially advocated for homeless LGBTQ+ youths, who frequently fall victim to predators. She worked to find them a safe place to live and access to health resources. With all the love and compassion she had in her heart, Berta battled with generalized anxiety and major depressive disorders. In June 2018, Berta died by suicide.

The days following Berta’s death were some of the most difficult days in my life. I felt “like a broken vessel.”7 Sometimes it was difficult to breathe or see the light, but the Savior’s light was there, comforting us and sustaining us as He has sustained us in the past. Many angels in the bodies of family members, dear friends, and the LGBTQ+ community came to minister to us, even people I had never met before. As difficult as the passing of Berta was for our family, knowing that she inspired and touched many lives has been a healing experience for us.

At the gates to the zoo, Patricia and Luis’s mother was getting a stroller for their little brother, Marcos.
“No,” said Patricia as Luis tried to lead her through the gate. “I don’t want to go into the zoo.”
“Why not?” Luis asked.
“Because I’m scared. It’s full of all those big animals—and lots of big people too.”
“I’ll help you,” Luis said. “I’ll tell you a secret that Mother told me.”
“What secret?” Patricia asked.
“All the animals began as baby animals, just like we were once baby people,” Luis whispered.
“Really?”
“Yes.” Luis smiled at his sister. “Then the baby people grew into kids like us and kept on growing until they became big people. And the baby animals grew into kid-age animals and then grown-up, big animals—see?”
“I’m still scared,” Patricia said.
“Look,” Luis said, “cover your eyes and imagine a baby giraffe.”
She covered her eyes and saw a baby giraffe wearing a bonnet. Patricia laughed and said, “This is fun. Now it’s your turn. Cover your eyes and see a baby policeman.”
Luis imagined a baby policeman standing in a crib. He grinned. “OK, cover your eyes and see a baby bear.”
Patricia put her hands over her eyes and saw a baby bear sitting in a high chair. She giggled. “Cover your eyes and imagine a baby clown.”
Up went Luis’s hands, and he saw a baby clown holding a bouquet of balloons. Luis clapped his hands. “Cover your eyes and see a baby lion.”
Patricia saw a baby lion in a playpen. “Hands off,” she said. “See a baby whale.”
Luis hooted when he saw a baby whale swimming in a bathtub. “Cover your eyes and see a baby ticket-taker,” he told Patricia.
Patricia saw a baby ticket-taker taking tickets. “Hey,” she said, “cover your eyes and see a baby elephant.”
Luis saw a baby elephant brushing its tusks. “One more,” he said. “Cover your eyes and see a baby zookeeper.”
Patricia laughed when she saw a baby zookeeper feeding the giraffe. “Know what?” Patricia asked. “Big animals and big people aren’t so scary after all!”
“That’s right.” Luis smiled. “Let’s both cover our eyes and see what we will look like when we are grown-ups.”
They covered their eyes. Luis imagined that he was an astronaut, and Patricia imagined that she was a baseball player.
“Wow!” Luis yelled.
Patricia looked very happy. “I’m not afraid any more. Thanks Luis. Here comes Mommy. Let’s race her and Marcos to the gate and go see the animals.”

A few years ago, I was struggling to feel the Spirit in my life. I wondered how Heavenly Father expected me to overcome challenges when I felt weak and insecure. I had so many doubts about my capacity to handle life.
I wondered if I just didn’t have it in me to do hard things.
One day when I was feeling lost, I traveled until I reached a quiet place where I could see the ocean and hear the birds singing. It was a place of solace—the perfect place to talk to Heavenly Father.
I poured out my heart in prayer, asking why I had to go through so many difficulties. I told Him I thought life was too hard and that I couldn’t keep going on my own. I told Him I didn’t know how I could handle the hard parts of life.
Suddenly, in that moment of vulnerability and desperation, I felt the warmth of the Spirit enveloping me—a gentle reassurance that I was not alone, that I’m never alone. And words of love and comfort entered my mind, reminding me of my divine identity, my potential, and my ability to do hard things with Jesus Christ.
After months of feeling alone and uncertain, I felt heavenly reassurance that I am capable—that I am a beloved daughter of Heavenly Father with a purpose. I’m endowed with spiritual gifts, and I’m bound to Him, the most loving and powerful being in the universe, because of my covenants. He reassured me that I can and am meant to face everything in life with the Savior on my side.
It wasn’t easy, but I took a leap of faith and decided to face things in life with reliance on Jesus Christ. I have been able to embrace so many opportunities and accomplish so much more than I ever thought I could.
I continue to face obstacles and challenges, and sometimes I feel that fear creeping in again, but when I reach for my faith in the Savior, I know that “perfect love casteth out fear” (1 John 4:18).

While in Guadalajara, Mexico, Sister Yee learned about and saw so many incredible examples of sisters acting according to those sympathies as they sought to meet a local need.

One such sister was Sister Pulido, who saw a need at a local hospital to help families and individuals who came from far away and needed food and clothing while they waited for treatment. She gathered 120 Relief Society sisters, several missionaries, and others in the community to find donations of food, water, blankets, and clothing. About 1,500 people donated goods, and the sisters and others prepared lunches and food for nearly 1,200 people. The goods were given to those who were waiting their turn for treatment at the hospital.

This sister said she was doing this because she had compassion for these people. With tears in her eyes, she humbly explained that she had been one of those individuals waiting in the hospital as her husband came and went for cancer treatment. She said her greatest blessing and desire is to minister as the Savior would.

When I was baptized in 1977 at the age of 10, my mother, with 8 children, was separated from my father, and we had many needs, both temporal and spiritual. The sisters of that small branch in the city of Oaxaca, Mexico, were faithful in visiting my mother to minister to her. These sisters lightened the burdens of my mother and the entire family in many ways; they were a great blessing in our lives.

A few months ago I got stuck in the elevator of my apartment building without my mom or brother. I was very afraid. The man who cleans the building found me and helped me get back to my mom. Later, Mom told me that while I was lost she said a prayer to Heavenly Father asking that I would get back safely to her. I am still nervous when I get in the elevator, but I’m more careful, and I know I can ask Heavenly Father for help.

“It’s great to combine learning a skill with fulfilling a Personal Progress project and serving a member of the ward,” said one of the young women of the Exeter Ward, Plymouth England Stake. The young women made a quilt for Sister Etta Cunningham, an aging ward member who was then suffering from cancer. The girls enjoyed the project as they learned a lot about piecing quilts. They also learned about having compassion for their elders.

Before Sister Cunningham passed away, she sent the girls a thank-you note, which they now keep in their Young Women book of remembrance.

“Peter, give me that thumbtack!” The Primary class fell silent, every eye on Peter.
He surrendered the thumbtack, protesting, “Jeffrey started it!”
Sister Brock glanced at the boy next to Peter. He was sitting quietly with his scriptures open. She turned back to Peter. “Young man,” she scolded, “this is your last warning. I’ll have no more troublemaking!” She turned and hurried back to the blackboard.
Jeffrey smirked at Peter, flashing the thumbtack he’d been hiding in his pocket. Peter lunged for it. Sister Brock turned just as Peter slammed into Jeffrey, sending both boys crashing to the floor.
Peter’s triumph of getting even with Jeffrey quickly faded in the tomblike silence in the den at home. He squirmed under his father’s penetrating gaze. From His picture on the wall, the Savior seemed to be looking gravely down at him also.
Peter looked away. Even though Sister Brock had learned the truth after class—and Jeffrey was being talked to by his father—Peter knew that his temper had gotten him in trouble far too often.
Minutes passed. The only sound was the ticking of the wall clock. Why doesn’t he say something? Peter wondered as his father seemed lost in thought. Maybe he’s forgotten I’m here.
Dad’s voice interrupted Peter’s thoughts. “Peter, let’s pray.” His father had already knelt. Quickly Peter slid to his knees.
After praying for help to solve their problem, they both sat down. Then Dad leaned forward, his eyes measuring Peter. “Peter,” he said, “I want you to try an experiment. For the next three days, you are to try to follow Jesus’ example whenever you get angry. Do you think you’re strong enough?”
“Strong enough?”
“Yes, Peter, strong enough.”
“But, Dad,” Peter objected, “Jesus never acted strong and tough.”
Dad seemed disappointed. “It takes a lot of strength to love and forgive others.”
Peter grumbled, “I know we should love others—but our enemies? And only cowards would turn the other cheek.”
Again, silence. Grown-ups were sure confusing.
“Well, Peter?”
“Well, what?”
“Are you strong enough?”
Peter gave up. “Sure,” he declared. “All I’ll have to do is nothing.”
“Glad to hear you’ll try this experiment. I think you’ll find that Jesus Christ was no coward.” Dad stood, offering his hand, “You can report to me on Wednesday after Scouts, OK?”
Peter shook his hand, smiling in relief. This would be a snap!
His first test came Monday after school. When he opened his bedroom door, his little sister, Amanda, and her friend Alex jumped in alarm. Plastic model pieces flew everywhere.
“My race car!” Peter shouted. “I’ve told you to leave my things alone!” He grabbed for Amanda, but she and Alex bolted for the door.
“You’re going to be sorry,” Peter fumed, steadying himself against his desk. His glance fell on his picture of the Savior with happy children around Him. Peter groaned. The experiment!
He breathed deeply, trying to calm down. How do I know what Jesus would do? he thought crossly. The Bible didn’ttell us anything about Jesus having a little sister who wrecked His stuff!
All at once, Jesus’ crucifixion came to Peter’s mind. No, just people wrecking His life! he realized. Even when the soldiers killed Him, Jesus didn’t get mad. Instead, He asked Heavenly Father to forgive them. A quiet feeling settled on Peter. He began to feel sorry for getting angry at Amanda. He went to find her.
As soon as Amanda saw him, she began whimpering, “We didn’t mean to break it, Peter. It just slipped. …”
“I know,” Peter said softly. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. Come help me rebuild it, then I’ll show you how it works, OK?” The joy on Amanda’s face matched the warm glow in his heart.
His success carried him all the way to Wednesday morning, when Brad Duncan came back to school. The moment Brad dunked him at the drinking fountain, Peter knew that chicken pox had not improved Brad’s personality.
As Peter came up sputtering, his friend Jeremy grabbed his arm and shouted, “Come on—let’s get him!”
“Aw, let him go,” Peter answered.
“Let him go! Are you crazy?”
I must be, Peter thought. What could he say—Well, Jer, there’s this experiment … ? No, that’d really sound stupid. “Look,” he hedged, “it just isn’t worth the bother.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Jeremy challenged. “You getting wimpy or something?” When Peter didn’t answer, Jeremy shook his head in disgust and walked off.
Miserable, Peter went to class. Everyone had lined up at the door. Wednesday was library day. Peter noticed Jeremy whispering with some other kids. They gave Peter weird looks. Great! thought Peter. Now everyone thinks I’m a coward. He wondered if the Savior had felt like this when His friends deserted Him. How did He stand feeling so alone?
Just then Brad sauntered into class. Miss Lewis had him join Peter at the back of the line. “Hey, Pete,” he snickered, “your shirt’s all wet!”
Peter ignored him. All the way down the hall, Brad kept jabbing him, each time a little harder. Peter was really getting mad.
When Miss Lewis stopped at the office, Brad shoved Peter so hard that he went sprawling. Peter forgot all about the experiment. He scrambled up, his only thought was to get even with Brad Duncan! He shoved Brad against the wall. “Cut it out!” When Brad glared back, Peter clenched his fist.
“Peter!” Miss Lewis had returned. “Get back in line,” she ordered. “Brad, up here next to me!”
All at once Peter remembered the experiment! I’ve failed, he realized, I’m really not strong enough after all.
The rest of the day Peter worried about reporting to his father. The experiment had been harder than he’d ever imagined. Especially with Brad. Had Jesus felt like that with the Pharisees? What had kept Him from getting mad?
When Peter sat down in the den that evening, he felt too ashamed to look up. Then Dad asked the dreaded question. “Well, Peter, were you strong enough?”
Peter sighed. “Only sometimes,” he admitted.
“Tell me about it.”
So Peter told him, first about Amanda and then about Brad. When he finished, Dad was smiling warmly. Maybe he hadn’t understood.
“Dad,” Peter repeated, “I really tried, but I’m not even half as strong as Jesus.”
“I know, Peter. Neither am I.”
Peter was startled. Even his father struggled to be good?
As if reading Peter’s mind, Dad explained, “I think it takes all this life, and even some of the next, but you’ve taken a big step in that direction. I’m proud of you.”
Slowly the words sank in. Peter studied the Savior’s picture on the wall, thinking about what Dad had said. Someday, I’d like to be that strong, he thought.
He realized that Dad was waiting to go to dinner with him. When Peter walked over, his father gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. “Keep up the good work, Peter.”
Peter smiled back. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Thank you, Peter.”