Gospel Story Finder

A woman named Christa once worked for a small seed company. She loved her job. It was a source of immense wonder that each tiny seed she sold had the capacity to transform itself into something quite miraculous—a carrot, a cabbage, or even a mighty oak tree.
Christa loved sitting at her computer taking orders and answering questions. But one day she received a complaint that puzzled her.
“The seeds don’t work,” the customer said. “I bought them two months ago and still nothing.”
“Did you plant them in good soil and give them enough water and sunlight?” Christa asked.
“No, but I did my part,” the customer replied. “I bought the seeds. After all, they are guaranteed to grow.”
“But you didn’t plant them?”
“Heavens no. That would mean getting my hands dirty.”
Christa thought about this and decided that planting guidelines would have to be written. She resolved what the first guideline would be: “You must follow planting instructions for the seeds to sprout. You can’t set them on the shelf and expect them to grow.”
It wasn’t long before another complaint puzzled her.
“The seeds aren’t producing,” a customer claimed.
“Did you plant them in good soil?” Christa responded. “Did you give them the appropriate amount of water and sunlight?”
“Oh, yes,” the customer insisted. “I did all that?exactly as it says on the package. But they don’t work.”
“Did anything happen at all? Did they sprout?”
“Nothing happened,” the customer said. “I planted them just as directed. I was hoping to have tomatoes for dinner. Now I am very disappointed.”
“Wait,” Christa replied. “Are you saying you planted the seeds today?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the customer replied. “I planted them a week ago. I was not expecting to see tomatoes on the first day; I was patient. Let me tell you, there has been a lot of watering and waiting between then and now.”
Christa knew she would have to add another guideline: “These seeds conform to the laws of biology. If you plant the seeds in the morning and expect to eat tomatoes later that week, you will be disappointed. You must be patient and wait for the work of nature to unfold before you.”
All went well until Christa received another complaint.
“I’m very disappointed in your seeds,” the customer began. “I planted them just as the package recommended. I gave them water, made sure they had sunshine, and waited until finally they produced their harvest.”
“Sounds like you did everything right,” Christa said.
“That’s all very fine,” the customer replied. “But what I got was zucchini!”
“My records show that those were the seeds you ordered,” Christa said.
“But I don’t want zucchini; I want pumpkins!”
“I’m not following.”
“I planted the seeds in my pumpkin patch—the very same soil that produced pumpkins last year. I praised the plants every day, telling them what beautiful pumpkins they would become. But instead of large, round, orange pumpkins, I got long, green zucchini. Tons of them!”
Christa knew then that guidelines might not be enough and that it was necessary to state a principle: “The seed you plant and the time of the planting determine the harvest.”

I still remember one:
“An older boy and his young companion were walking along a road which led through a field. They saw an old coat and a badly worn pair of men’s shoes by the roadside, and in the distance they saw the owner working in the field.
“The younger boy suggested that they hide the shoes, conceal themselves, and watch the perplexity on the owner’s face when he returned.
“The older boy … thought that would not be so good. He said the owner must be a very poor man. So, after talking the matter over, at his suggestion, they concluded to try another experiment. Instead of hiding the shoes, they would put a silver dollar in each one and … see what the owner did when he discovered the money. So they did that.
“Pretty soon the man returned from the field, put on his coat, slipped one foot into a shoe, felt something hard, took it out and found a silver dollar. Wonder and surprise [shone] upon his face. He looked at the dollar again and again, turned around and could see nobody, then proceeded to put on the other shoe; when to his great surprise he found another dollar. His feelings overcame him. … He knelt down and offered aloud a prayer of thanksgiving, in which he spoke of his wife being sick and helpless and his children without bread. … He fervently thanked the Lord for this bounty from unknown hands and evoked the blessing of heaven upon those who gave him this needed help.
“The boys remained [hidden] until he had gone.” They had been touched by his prayer and felt something warm within their hearts. As they left to walk down the road, one said to the other, “Don’t you have a good feeling?” (Adapted from Bryant S. Hinckley, Not by Bread Alone, 95).

Tears fell as I prayed for peace when my youngest son filled out his missionary application. I really wanted him to go on a mission. I did. I kept trying to convince myself of this.
I love my Savior and was genuinely thrilled for my son’s opportunity to share the joy we can find through Jesus Christ. Yet deep down I was afraid of him leaving. I knew that he would never truly come home again after his mission. Even if he lived at home, it wouldn’t be the same.
My friends told me the empty-nester stage was wonderful. My husband and I were excited and looking forward to the freedom and opportunities we hadn’t had while we were raising our children.
With this newfound freedom, I threw myself into a myriad of activities. I traveled with my husband, learned to play the organ for my calling, played with my grandchildren, and did temple and family history work.
I found excitement and adventure. I found self-improvement. I found wonderful things.
Yet there was always something missing. Something still wasn’t there. When my son left, he took a big chunk of my heart that I couldn’t seem to fill.
About a year after my son left, I had a temper tantrum to compete with all the temper tantrums my children threw when they were young. My husband looked at me and said, “Michelle, you need to serve.” I signed up for a service opportunity.
Still, my heart ached. I had a hard time throwing myself into service or any of the other ventures that beckoned. With all my children gone, I felt like my life would never be quite whole again.
One night when I prayed for help, the Spirit informed me that I was experiencing the void that comes from loss—loss of purpose. I thought I had dealt with that particular sadness by filling my life with all those wonderful activities.
As I sought for answers, I found this statement from the Prophet Joseph Smith’s history: “When we lose [something or someone] upon whom we have set our hearts it should be a caution unto us. … Our affections should be placed upon God and his work more intensely than upon our fellow beings.”1
A jolt of light pierced the dark cloud over my heart. I had tried to fill my deep cavity of sorrow with things, activities, and experiences—serving, loving, pursuing talents. All good things, but they didn’t fill my gaping hole. They didn’t heal the way I needed healing.
I realized that type of peace and fulfillment can only come through our Savior, Jesus Christ. Jesus taught, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). It is only through Him that we find joy and wholeness and peace and contentment. Psalm 16:11 says, “Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence is fulness of joy.”
Life didn’t instantly change. My heart didn’t instantly heal. But I knew where my focus had to be for it to happen.
My prayers shifted. I started asking Heavenly Father to help me build a stronger relationship with my Savior. When I would get discouraged, I would consciously remind myself that Jesus Christ was there for me, and through the grace of His atoning power, He would help me. My scripture study became more focused on building a relationship with Him. It took time, but I persisted in directing my emotions, my energy, and my thoughts toward Jesus Christ.
As I did, the heavy darkness began to lift. I found greater enjoyment in the little acts of service and love each day. Light and hope brightened my path and filled the void in my heart. Putting the Savior first gave deeper meaning and enjoyment to every aspect of my life, from serving to spending time with family, from traveling to developing my talents. Everything became richer with Christ at the center.
Everyone’s journey through the changing times in life is unique. However, the solution to our sorrows is to respond to Christ’s call when He says, “Come unto me with full purpose of heart, and I shall heal [you]” (3 Nephi 18:32). It is only through Him that we will find true healing, peace, love, and joy.

My beloved young brothers and sisters, we have all had, or will have, "defining moments" in our lives! Moments that change our lives, and our priorities, forever! Moments that help us to see the importance and power of the Gospel of Jesus Christ!
One such moment came right after the funeral of our infant son. My wife and I were riding in the hearse with his tiny white casket before us, and with loved ones and friends following behind. Suddenly, we were overwhelmed with deep and inexpressible feelings of love for our son! And we were filled with a determination to live the gospel of Jesus Christ, in such a way, as to be worthy of a glorious reunion with him, on the morning of the resurrection!

"I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God unto salvation,"[5] and it is only through the gospel of Jesus Christ that glorious reunions and eternal family relationships are made possible!

May and Ann sat by each other in Primary. They drew pictures of Jesus and of their families. They glued them in paper chains to make necklaces.
Sister Gardner asked how their families showed love.
“I ride bikes with my dad!” Ben said.
“We go to church together,” Leo said.
“My sister helps me with homework,” Ann said.
May felt sad. She didn’t ride bikes with her dad. She went to church with only her grandma. Sometimes she fought with her sister.
“How does your family show love, May?” Sister Gardner asked.
May put her head down on the table. “I don’t know,” she said.
Ann looked at May. She picked up a crayon. She started drawing again. Then she held up a picture. It was a girl with long hair. It looked just like May!
“May, I drew a picture of you. It’s for my necklace. I’m going to put you between Jesus and me. I love you. And Jesus loves you too.”
May lifted up her head. The picture made her smile. She felt happy that Ann was nice to her. And she knew that Jesus loved her.
May ran over and gave Ann a hug. “Thank you!” she said. “Can I draw you for my necklace too?”
Ann smiled big. “Yes!” she said. “And let’s draw Jesus too.”
When Primary was over, May ran to show her necklace to Grandma. “Guess what!” May said. “Jesus loves me.”

I want to mention a little incident that happened to me in the temple in Salt Lake City. As I walked down the long hall preparing to go into one of the rooms to perform a marriage for a young couple, a woman followed me out of the room after the ceremony. With great agitation, she asked, “Elder Kimball, do you re member me?” I was abashed. It seemed incredible but I could not make the connection. I was much embarrassed, as I had met thousands of people in my time. I finally said, “I’m sorry, but I cannot remember you.” Instead of disappointment, there was a great joy that came into her face. She was relieved. She said. “Oh, I am so grateful you can’t remember me. With my husband, I spent all night with you one time, while we were trying to change our lives. We had committed sin and we were struggling to get rid of it. You labored all night to help us clear it.” She said, “We have repented and changed our lives totally. I am glad you don’t remember me, because if you, one of the apostles, cannot remember me, maybe the Savior cannot remember my sins.” Her face was relieved. She said, “Thank you. Maybe the Lord will remember them no more.” The scriptures say if our sins are totally repented of, and if we totally change our lives, he will remember them no more. (Amsterdam priesthood session, August 7, 1976, p. 6.)

When my son had his first tooth come in and when he took his first step, I wanted to call my mom. Tell my dad. Text pictures to my brothers. But I can’t. And I never can.
My parents and two of my brothers passed away seven years ago. I still remember it as if it were last week. I remember finding out that they were gone, coming home from my mission, and having to plan a funeral. But even after everything was over, my journey of grief was just beginning. This traumatic event released emotions that were more intense than I knew were possible to experience.
Feelings of anger, sadness, numbness, anxiety, and depression became regular emotions that I suddenly had to learn to cope with. It would be easy to assume that all grief progresses linearly, ending in a state of well-being. However, feelings don’t always happen in a set order. These feelings come and go over the course of a lifetime.
Sometimes, when grieving, we feel pressure—even subconsciously—to only portray the positive. In my experience, people understood that I would need to grieve, but as time went on, I felt I wasn’t allowed to honestly say how I was feeling. There was an expectation for comfortable answers—“I’m fine,” “I’m OK”—rather than the honest answer that I was still struggling.
The plan of salvation gives us the promise that as we “press forward … and endure to the end, … [w]e shall have eternal life” (2 Nephi 31:20). We “press forward” by exercising faith—doing things like reading our scriptures, attending the temple and Church meetings, and fulfilling callings. But sometimes in the middle of grief, it can feel like we’re failing at having faith in God’s plan if we show others our emotions.
Many people in the scriptures experienced confusion or questioning during times of trauma. While imprisoned in Liberty Jail, the Prophet Joseph Smith prayed in agony, “Oh God, where art thou?” (Doctrine and Covenants 121:1). After his father, Lehi, passed away, Nephi asked, “O Lord, wilt thou redeem my soul?” (2 Nephi 4:31). And Job, after so many awful trials, wondered why he’d even been born (see Job 3:11). The scriptures teach:
“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: …
“… A time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
“A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance” (Ecclesiastes 3:1, 3–4).
Heavenly Father understands that during times of intense suffering or loss, we will struggle. He knows that there will be moments when we mourn and experience sadness. We need those experiences in order to move forward with our lives.
But even though Heavenly Father has prepared “a time and season” for grief, we still sometimes feel pressure to move on or be happy right away. If Heavenly Father is patient with us during our struggles, shouldn’t we be patient with ourselves?
When navigating your own season of grief, here are a few things I have found to be helpful:
Give yourself permission to feel things in your own way and time. Cry when you need to.
Reach out to others for help, and be honest about your feelings.
Don’t feel bad for experiencing moments of sadness, even long after the loss has happened.
Always remember that because of God’s plan, we can feel peace. Our struggles won’t last forever.
The Savior was the perfect example of mourning with those who mourn. He healed the sick and lifted the afflicted. He taught, listened, and loved others regardless of their struggles. He even navigated His own season of grief while He suffered in the Garden of Gethsemane.
Grief is a difficult life transition to face. To the person who is grieving, know that it’s OK to not have all the answers. To the person who is trying to help, it’s OK to not know what to do. The Savior extends this relief to all: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).
Elder Ulisses Soares of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles reminds us: “We must acknowledge that He is aware of each of us and of our needs. … The Lord’s timing is different than ours. … We need to trust the Lord enough to be still and know that He is God, that He knows all things, and that He is aware of each of us.”1
As we come unto Him in our grief, we can find peace in the hope that “all things shall work together for [our] good” (Doctrine and Covenants 90:24).

One of my haunting childhood memories begins with the howl of distant air-raid sirens that awaken me from sleep. Before long, another sound, the rattle and hum of propellers, gradually increases until it shakes the very air. Trained well by our mother, we children each grab our bag and run up the hill to a bomb shelter. As we hurry through the pitch-dark night, green and white flares drop from the sky to mark the targets for the bombers. Strangely enough, everyone calls these flares Christmas trees.
I am four years old, and I am a witness to a world at war.
Not far from where my family lived was the city of Dresden. Those who lived there witnessed perhaps a thousand times what I had seen. Massive firestorms, caused by thousands of tons of explosives, swept through Dresden, destroying more than 90 percent of the city and leaving little but rubble and ash in their wake.
UniversalImagesGroup/Universal Images Group/Getty Images
In a very short time, the city once nicknamed the “Jewel Box” was no more. Erich Kästner, a German author, wrote of the destruction, “In a thousand years was her beauty built, in one night was it utterly destroyed.”1 During my childhood I could not imagine how the destruction of a war our own people had started could ever be overcome. The world around us appeared totally hopeless and without any future.
Last year I had the opportunity to return to Dresden. Seventy years after the war, it is, once again, a “Jewel Box” of a city. The ruins have been cleared, and the city is restored and even improved.
Bettmann/Bettmann/Getty Images
During my visit I saw the beautiful Lutheran church Frauenkirche, the Church of Our Lady. Originally built in the 1700s, it had been one of Dresden’s shining jewels, but the war reduced it to a pile of rubble. For many years it remained that way, until finally it was determined that the Frauenkirche would be rebuilt.

Stones from the destroyed church had been stored and cataloged and, when possible, were used in the reconstruction. Today you can see these fire-blackened stones pockmarking the outer walls. These “scars” are not only a reminder of the war history of this building but also a monument to hope—a magnificent symbol of man’s ability to create new life from ashes.

As I pondered the history of Dresden and marveled at the ingenuity and resolve of those who restored what had been so completely destroyed, I felt the sweet influence of the Holy Spirit. Surely, I thought, if man can take the ruins, rubble, and remains of a broken city and rebuild an awe-inspiring structure that rises toward the heavens, how much more capable is our Almighty Father to restore His children who have fallen, struggled, or become lost?
It matters not how completely ruined our lives may seem. It matters not how scarlet our sins, how deep our bitterness, how lonely, abandoned, or broken our hearts may be. Even those who are without hope, who live in despair, who have betrayed trust, surrendered their integrity, or turned away from God can be rebuilt. Save those rare sons of perdition, there is no life so shattered that it cannot be restored.
The joyous news of the gospel is this: because of the eternal plan of happiness provided by our loving Heavenly Father and through the infinite sacrifice of Jesus the Christ, we can not only be redeemed from our fallen state and restored to purity, but we can also transcend mortal imagination and become heirs of eternal life and partakers of God’s indescribable glory.
During the Savior’s ministry, the religious leaders of His day disapproved of Jesus spending time with people they had labeled “sinners.”
Perhaps to them it looked like He was tolerating or even condoning sinful behavior. Perhaps they believed that the best way to help sinners repent was by condemning, ridiculing, and shaming them.
When the Savior perceived what the Pharisees and scribes were thinking, He told a story:
“What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?
“And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing.”2
Over the centuries, this parable has traditionally been interpreted as a call to action for us to bring back the lost sheep and to reach out to those who are lost. While this is certainly appropriate and good, I wonder if there is more to it.
Is it possible that Jesus’s purpose, first and foremost, was to teach about the work of the Good Shepherd?
Is it possible that He was testifying of God’s love for His wayward children?
Is it possible that the Savior’s message was that God is fully aware of those who are lost—and that He will find them, that He will reach out to them, and that He will rescue them?
If that is so, what must the sheep do to qualify for this divine help?
Does the sheep need to know how to use a complicated sextant to calculate its coordinates? Does it need to be able to use a GPS to define its position? Does it have to have the expertise to create an app that will call for help? Does the sheep need endorsements by a sponsor before the Good Shepherd will come to the rescue?
No. Certainly not! The sheep is worthy of divine rescue simply because it is loved by the Good Shepherd.
To me, the parable of the lost sheep is one of the most hopeful passages in all of scripture.
Our Savior, the Good Shepherd, knows and loves us. He knows and loves you.
He knows when you are lost, and He knows where you are. He knows your grief. Your silent pleadings. Your fears. Your tears.
It matters not how you became lost—whether because of your own poor choices or because of circumstances beyond your control.
What matters is that you are His child. And He loves you. He loves His children.
Because He loves you, He will find you. He will place you upon His shoulders, rejoicing. And when He brings you home, He will say to one and all, “Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost.”3
But, you might be thinking, what is the catch? Surely I have to do more than simply wait to be rescued.
While our loving Father desires that all of His children return to Him, He will force no one to heaven.4 God will not rescue us against our will.
So what must we do?
His invitation is simple:
“Turn … to me.”5
“Come unto me.”6
“Draw near unto me and I will draw near unto you.”7
This is how we show Him that we want to be rescued.
It requires a little faith. But do not despair. If you cannot muster faith right now, begin with hope.
If you cannot say you know God is there, you can hope that He is. You can desire to believe.8 That is enough to start.
Then, acting on that hope, reach out to Heavenly Father. God will extend His love toward you, and His work of rescue and transformation will begin.
Over time, you will recognize His hand in your life. You will feel His love. And the desire to walk in His light and follow His way will grow with every step of faith you take.
We call these steps of faith “obedience.”
That is not a popular word these days. But obedience is a cherished concept in the gospel of Jesus Christ because we know that “through the Atonement of Christ, all mankind may be saved, by obedience to the laws and ordinances of the Gospel.”9
As we increase in faith, we also must increase in faithfulness. Earlier I quoted a German author who lamented the destruction of Dresden. He also penned the phrase “Es gibt nichts Gutes, ausser: Man tut es.” For those who do not speak the celestial language, this is translated as “There is nothing good unless you do it.”10
You and I may speak most eloquently of spiritual things. We may impress people with our keen intellectual interpretation of religious topics. We may rhapsodize about religion and “dream of [our] mansion above.”11 But if our faith does not change the way we live—if our beliefs do not influence our daily decisions—our religion is vain, and our faith, if not dead, is certainly not well and is in danger of eventually flatlining.12
Obedience is the lifeblood of faith. It is by obedience that we gather light into our souls.
But sometimes I think we misunderstand obedience. We may see obedience as an end in itself, rather than a means to an end. Or we may pound the metaphorical hammer of obedience against the iron anvil of the commandments in an effort to shape those we love, through constant heating and repeated battering, into holier, heavenly matter.
No doubt about it, there are times when we need a stern call to repentance. Certainly, there are some who may be reached only in this manner.
But perhaps there is a different metaphor that can explain why we obey the commandments of God. Maybe obedience is not so much the process of bending, twisting, and pounding our souls into something we are not. Instead, it is the process by which we discover what we truly are made of.
We are created by the Almighty God. He is our Heavenly Father. We are literally His spirit children. We are made of supernal material most precious and highly refined, and thus we carry within ourselves the substance of divinity.
Here on earth, however, our thoughts and actions become encumbered with that which is corrupt, unholy, and impure. The dust and filth of the world stain our souls, making it difficult to recognize and remember our birthright and purpose.
But all this cannot change who we truly are. The fundamental divinity of our nature remains. And the moment we choose to incline our hearts to our beloved Savior and set foot upon the path of discipleship, something miraculous happens. The love of God fills our hearts, the light of truth fills our minds, we start to lose the desire to sin, and we do not want to walk any longer in darkness.13
We come to see obedience not as a punishment but as a liberating path to our divine destiny. And gradually, the corruption, dust, and limitations of this earth begin to fall away. Eventually, the priceless, eternal spirit of the heavenly being within us is revealed, and a radiance of goodness becomes our nature.
My dear brothers and sisters, my dear friends, I testify that God sees us as we truly are—and He sees us worthy of rescue.
You may feel that your life is in ruins. You may have sinned. You may be afraid, angry, grieving, or tortured by doubt. But just as the Good Shepherd finds His lost sheep, if you will only lift up your heart to the Savior of the world, He will find you.
He will rescue you.
He will lift you up and place you on His shoulders.
He will carry you home.
If mortal hands can transform rubble and ruins into a beautiful house of worship, then we can have confidence and trust that our loving Heavenly Father can and will rebuild us. His plan is to build us into something far greater than what we were—far greater than what we can ever imagine. With each step of faith on the path of discipleship, we grow into the beings of eternal glory and infinite joy we were designed to become.
This is my testimony, my blessing, and my humble prayer in the sacred name of our Master, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

In the village where my wife grew up, her parents, who were good churchgoing people, embraced the gospel as a young married couple with my wife as their two-year-old daughter and only child at that time. Their decision to become members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints had a great impact on their lives as they were shunned by the villagers and by their family. It took many years, loving notes to family members, and service to the community before they were finally accepted.

When he became an Apostle, President Monson was assigned to watch over the Church in Eastern Europe. The members there had very little money, and it was hard for them to buy new clothing. While visiting East Germany, President Monson noticed a man at church whose suit was very worn. The man’s name was Brother Adler.
After the meeting President Monson changed into a pair of pants and a shirt he had packed in his suitcase. He then handed his almost-new suit to Brother Adler and said, “I think this will fit you.”
Brother Adler was surprised. Before he could say anything, President Monson offered his shoes as well. The shoes were too big for Brother Adler, but a man standing nearby said the shoes would fit his son. President Monson handed his shoes to the man and wore an old pair from his bag.
For the next 20 years, President Monson took extra clothes every time he visited East Germany. His generosity blessed many people. Before one Church meeting began, he looked at a young man sitting in the congregation and said, “That’s a fine suit you have on.”
The young man replied, “It should be. It’s yours!”
President Monson’s example teaches us to show love for others as we serve them.

We had a missionary come to us when I was president down in the Southern States. Before his assignment we held a meeting with him and the other missionaries, and he made a statement like this. He said, “I guess I am here to please my mother. My college professors told me that it would be a waste of my time, that I ought to remain at home and get my education.” He said, “You know, I am a very practical sort of a fellow. I like to be able to go out in the orchard and pull the pears off of a pear tree; then I know it is a pear tree.”

“Well,” I said, “my boy, I wouldn’t worry too much about that if I were you. Pears grow on our trees too.” I said, “now I’ll hand you the Book of Mormon. You are a college man. You study it. You tell me how it could have been written—with the information that is in it—at the time that it was published, if Joseph Smith’s story isn’t true. And when you get through with that, I will give you another one to start on.”

I assigned him over in Alabama, and a short time after that I went over to attend a conference, and I said to the district president, “I would like to hear from Elder So-and-so,” and he called him up. He bore a beautiful testimony. I went up to him after the meeting, and as I shook hands with him I said, “Elder So-and-so, you must have found some pears on our pear tree.”

“Ah, forget it, President Richards,” he said. When he came home, he was so thrilled with the gospel—he lived down in St. George—he got the bishop to let him run a tourist service to the temple, and he didn’t charge for it, but he just bubbled over.

I used to share my testimony ever since I was small growing up, but it was like a routine for me to share it every fast and testimony Sunday. I knew all the commandments that I should keep, but it never really had great meaning in my life. Then I fasted and prayed about Joseph Smith and about whether he was indeed a prophet of God and translated the Book of Mormon. After much fasting and prayer, the Spirit confirmed in my heart that all these things were true. Now I’ve earned a testimony of my own and it is no longer a borrowed testimony.
Meradani R., 20, Fiji

What are some of the ways that we can become peacemakers?First, we must confirm our individual commitment to the gospel of Jesus Christ. Inward manifestation of this commitment includes obedience to the Lord's commandments, and striving daily to strengthen our testimonies of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Outward manifestation of our commitment to living the gospel includes serving others in our wards and reaching out beyond our own comfort zone to serve in our communities. This requires viewing one another as brothers and sisters of the divisions the world creates. In the BYU-Hawaii group on the website Facebook, one of our students posed the question "What does it mean to have the most diverse school representing over 70 different countries?" Another student responded, "It means that there is no room for prejudice, racism, or narrow mindedness." Imagine if we could take that simple and powerful lesson with us from this place and apply it globally, in every community that we become a part of.
We are in a place where we can see and experience the fruits of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ preached to the ends of the earth. In the dedication of the Aloha Center, President Marion G. Romney called BYU-Hawaii "a living laboratory in which individuals who share the teachings of the Master Teacher have an opportunity to develop appreciation, tolerance, and esteem for one another. For what can be done here interculturally in a small way is what mankind must do on a large scale if we are ever to have real brotherhood on earth." As students, you must recognize the hand of the Lord in bringing you to this place, and to live worthily in order to help fulfill the mission of this university. I realize that this is a heavy burden. Maybe this is why the Lord decided to place us here, in Hawaii, to sweeten the deal a bit. Make no mistake, you are part of this living laboratory. You are not standing outside of it, looking in. By virtue of your presence here, the Lord has big plans for you. Be worthy, in every way, of the blessings He has in store for you.Second, we must erase the artificial divisions that exist between us. We must see one another as the Lord sees us. While our cultural, national, and regional identities are important, emphasizing our identities as Latter-day Saints can overcome the temptation to focus on our differences at the expense of our one similarity-that we are sons and daughters of our Father in Heaven and brothers and sisters here on this earth. The artificial divisions that we create are irrelevant to the Lord. When they become irrelevant to us, we move closer to becoming that city on a hill.
Third, we must search for practical ways to bridge these worldly divides. I will use two examples from this campus to illustrate what I mean. In 1987, the citizens of Fiji were torn by political strife. A military coup had brought ethnic tensions between indigenous Fijians and Indo-Fijians to a violent head. Here at BYU-Hawaii, representatives of both the Fijian and Indo-Fijian community worked together to set an example of unity to their brothers and sisters at home. Fijian Club members, along with associated faculty and community members, met informally in the days immediately following the coup and decided that they would not succumb to the bitter strife that engulfed their nation, but would, in the words one participant, "use Christ as our guide" and stand united in faith. The next meeting of the Fijian Club was a forum that proclaimed their commitment to the Christian principles of love and brotherhood in the face of political turmoil. They had become a city on a hill.
Second story: In 2006, tensions between India and Pakistan made global headlines. The two countries, both with nuclear arsenals, appeared to be at the brink of war. During the height of this escalating conflict, BYU-Hawaii students from India and Pakistan created a library display that highlighted their shared cultural heritage. Photographs, beautiful clothing, and other items laid side by side bore testimony that the commitment of these students and their advisors to the gospel of Jesus Christ could overcome the political differences that divided their homelands. Here at BYU-Hawaii, these students decided to do something to communicate their commitment to peace. They too had become a city on a hill. These are just two examples of the kinds of actions referred to in Mosiah 15:14-16 "And these are they who have published peace, who have brought good tidings of good, who have published salvation; and said unto Zion: Thy God reigneth! And O how beautiful upon the mountains were their feet...how beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of those that are still publishing peace!"

This question from Sister Yee reminded me of a lesson learned from my daughter. When she was small, Paige used to hate Band-Aids. Some kids run to their moms for a Band-Aid for every little owie, but Paige never wanted one. To her, needing a Band-Aid meant that she was really hurt. As long as I didn’t offer her one, she would bravely handle all the scrapes and cuts that came her way. But the minute I insisted that she needed a Band-Aid, she would get upset and, I believe, actually feel more physical pain.

Are we like this when we have need of the spiritual Band-Aid of daily repentance? Do we avoid repentance as much as possible, thinking that surely this little thing in our lives is not big enough to require repentance? Instead, let us become like the little child who quickly runs to our Father every time we have a tiny bump or bruise. Let us come to Him each night and morning and ask for His healing balm to bind up our wounds. Making repentance a daily practice will prepare us to receive ordinances and to make and keep covenants with our Savior.

As a youth in the Netherlands, I had the opportunity to spend two weeks working with the full-time sister missionaries. I expected two weeks of hard work—and a lot of fun.
Before that time, I knew that I had a Heavenly Father and He loved me. But during those two weeks I thought about Him and His work 24 hours a day; even as I slept, I dreamed about missionary work.
Despite my enthusiasm, the first couple of days were hard work—without much success. By the end of the first week I was exhausted, spiritually and emotionally. That night, I read the Book of Mormon all evening. When I went to bed, I had a warm and good feeling, and I knew Heavenly Father would give me the courage to keep trying after every closed door.
In the days that followed, there continued to be more negative than positive responses. But if there was only one person a day who would listen, it made the day worthwhile.
One day I telephoned a lady who had investigated the Church for four years. Over the phone, she told me she didn’t need the Book of Mormon because she had found a “more beautiful book.” When we went to her house, my companion and I hoped we could convince her to give the Book of Mormon another chance. She showed us parts of her book dealing with charity and pride, and she looked at us as if to say, That isn’t written in your book, is it?
Fortunately, I had studied the Book of Mormon in seminary that year, and I knew of some scriptures on those subjects. I soon found them and started to read. I explained them to her in a way I had not known I was capable of.
When I finished, she had tears in her eyes. She said she had intended to give her copy of the Book of Mormon back to us, but now she had decided to try reading this most beautiful book—the Book of Mormon—again.

We are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We were both baptized on the same day in November of 2015. We were among the very first few members of the Church here in Tamale. Some refer to us as “member pioneers”. We are proud to be pioneers here in Tamale and to now be “old in the church”.
The year 2014 was the year when the missionaries found us and taught us about the Church. We enjoyed learning even though we spoke no English. The Spirit testified to us both that the Church was true!
Our membership in the Church has blessed our lives so much. When we first joined the Church we could not understand, speak, or read English. We would come to church each week and we enjoyed being there, even though we did not understand English. The branch president would invite us into his office after church was over and explain to us the teachings. We were nurtured by the leaders and other Church members.
Soon we were introduced to the Church’s literacy program. The senior missionary couples were our teachers. I especially wanted to learn to read, to write, and to speak English so that I could do God’s work and also teach my family. Through the Gospel Literacy program, we can now understand, speak, read, and write English. I do not know what we would do without the couples who contributed so much to our learning, serving as our teachers, and helping us to develop self-reliance skills. Our couples were Elder and Sister Brinks, Elder and Sister Renfroe, and Elder and Sister Wight. Without these couples we would not have been able to accomplish so much, but with their help and with God’s power, we are better now!
We love serving in our branch where Abraham is the elders quorum president and I am the Relief Society president. I can give lessons now and read from the scriptures.
We love holding family home evenings with our children. We are learning from the Come, Follow Me manual and we also pray together. I read scriptures stories to them from the Book of Mormon and the Bible.
We are so happy that our family is sealed together in the temple. It made my heart happy when I read, on the outside of the temple, those holy words! When I went inside, I thought, “This is a small heaven”. I loved it!
Ministering is a big part of what we do as members. We visit and support our other members. We have many members of our branch now. They are coming!
God has blessed us too much! We are so happy to be members of the Church and as we look back at our lives and how they have changed and been blessed because of our membership in the Church, we are so grateful. Our progress has been small but now we have strong testimonies and we will never leave the Church, not ever! If you ever come to Tamale, we hope that you will visit our branch.

Many years ago, I took the Scouts on a campout in the desert. The boys slept by a large fire they had made, and like every good Scout leader, I slept in the back of my truck. In the morning when I sat up and looked at the campsite, I saw one Scout, whom I will call Paul, who looked particularly rough around the edges. I asked how he had slept, and he replied, “Not very well.”
When I asked why, he said, “I was cold; the fire went out.”
I answered, “Well, fires do that. Wasn’t your sleeping bag warm enough?”
No answer.
Then one of the other Scouts loudly volunteered, “He didn’t use his sleeping bag.”
I asked in disbelief, “Why not, Paul?”
Silence—then finally the sheepish reply: “Well, I thought if I didn’t unroll my sleeping bag, I wouldn’t have to roll it up again.”
True story: he froze for hours because he was trying to save five minutes of work.

When I turned 18, I wanted to serve a full-time mission and help in the Lord’s work. I eagerly told my parents about my plan and how I wanted to invite people to come unto Jesus Christ by helping them receive and live the principles and ordinances of the gospel. Their response surprised me. They said it broke their hearts to think of me leaving on a mission, and I had to choose: my family or my mission.
I was shocked when I heard those words. Immediately I went to the Church building near our home and entered one of its rooms to kneel and ask Heavenly Father, “What will I do? What will I choose: my family or my mission? Both are important to me.”
While on my knees, the words of the missionaries came to mind: “Whatever God commands, do it.”
I love my family and want to be with them forever. I respect their feelings. Yet the scripture says, “To obey is better than sacrifice” (1 Samuel 15:22). The Spirit of the Lord filled me, and I was strengthened. I decided to serve because I knew Heavenly Father would help my family understand.
I went home only to be sent away by my father’s angry words and told to never return. Not knowing where to go, I packed my things. I was not a bit scared, because I knew the Lord was with me, that He has a plan for every family, and that someday my family would understand this beautiful plan.
I was only a few steps away from home when my mother caught me. She embraced me and said how much she loved me. As I left, I could see her crying with all the love and pain of a mother seeing her child go.
For over a year, I stayed in the house of a returned missionary I had met when I was an investigator. The Lord was true to His promise in 1 Nephi 3:7—He provided the way so I could obey His commandments. He sent this selfless and generous man to provide for me and to create a spiritual environment where I could prepare for my mission. I felt the hand of God sustaining me through my challenges. I felt the love of our Savior Jesus Christ through His atoning sacrifice. This love carried me through my trials until I was set apart as a full-time missionary in the Philippines Cauayan Mission.
A few months later, I received a letter from my family telling me they were waiting for my return. I never lost faith and hope that my whole family would become members of the Church, be sealed in the temple for all eternity, and be with our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, someday.
After returning from my mission, I began to see that dream come true. I was able to baptize my mother, who is now preparing to go to the temple. I see my family often, and we are closer than ever before.

Mike was nervous. The bow tie made his collar tight, and he couldn’t get his finger to where it itched. His Primary teacher, Brother Thompson, looked at the squirmy nine-year-old and shook his head. He had often thought that Mike was more interested in soccer than the scriptures. Today Brother Thompson was right.

It wasn’t that Mike didn’t like the scriptures. It was just that the big game was a week away, and Mike was having trouble thinking about anything else.

“Mike,” said Brother Thompson, “can you tell me what Jesus did when He learned that His friend Lazarus had died?”

Mike hadn’t been listening. He had been staring out the window and thinking about the Pocatello soccer fields, where the league championship would be decided next Saturday.

Mike played in the league for nine- and ten-year-olds. His team had won all their games. But Mike’s coach had said that they had been lucky to win some of them, and half of them had been won by only one goal. Next Saturday would be the championship game. Mike’s team, the Eagles, would play the Lasers. The Lasers were also undefeated in their league, but they had won every game by at least four goals.

Mike thought about what his coach had told him the day before.

“Mike?” Coach Griego had asked, “Do you want to win next week?”

“You bet!”

“Do you think we will win?”

“I think the Lasers are gonna cream us,” Mike had answered truthfully.

“Well, I know one thing,” Coach Griego had said. “In order for us to have a chance at winning, you’ll have to play a good game. You’re our best player, Mike. You’re really going to have to take charge out there.”

Mike thought about what Coach Griego had said. He felt glad that his coach thought that he was the best player on the team. But it made him feel bad, too, because if the Eagles lost, it would probably be his fault.

Brother Thompson continued his lesson … “When Jesus learned that His friend Lazarus had died, He went to where His friend was buried. His disciples wondered why Jesus would leave His important teaching to go to someone who was already dead. But Jesus did what He knew was right. Jesus loved his friend, and one of the lessons he wanted to teach was that we should always do the kindest thing.”

Mike was listening to his teacher now. So was the boy sitting next to him, Clint Price. Clint was on Mike’s soccer team, but Clint was as thin and wispy as Mike was strong and solid. They played a lot of soccer together at home during the week, but at team practice, Mike acted like he hardly knew Clint. All the kids thought that Clint was the worst player on the team, and Mike liked to be around the best players. Clint pretended that it didn’t bother him.

“When Jesus went to see Lazarus,” Brother Thompson continued, “He wept for His friend. Then He prayed to Heavenly Father and raised His friend from the dead. Surely He would have liked to have healed His friend so that he didn’t have to die, but if He had, He would not have shown that He had power over death. He knew that it was important to wait till Lazarus had died before He helped him. So remember how important it is to always do the right thing.”

During the week Mike sometimes pictured his team beating the Lasers by two or three goals. Then he’d think about what it would be like if the Lasers won by their usual four points.

“OK,” said the coach just before the game started. “They’re big, all right, but that means that they’re slow. We can beat them with speed and passing. Now, get out there and win!”

The Lasers soon had the ball sailing toward the goal. The Eagle goalie almost muffed the ball, but he managed to drop-kick it back toward the center of the field.

Mike knew at once that it would be a rough game. The Lasers knew how to use their size. Whenever they powered the ball downfield, several Eagles were knocked down in the process.

The Lasers scored first with a hard shot from just in front of the goal. This time the ball went into the net so fast that the Eagle goalie didn’t have time to react. The Lasers scored again just before halftime on a high kick that came down in front of the goal. A tall Laser player jumped up and butted the ball into the goal with his head. The Eagles walked off the field dejectedly at halftime. The score was Lasers 2, Eagles 0.

No one was more unhappy than Mike. He hadn’t played for most of the first half after he’d collided with a Laser player and hurt his leg. On the sideline he’d done the stretching exercises his coach had showed him. “Coach,” Mike said just before the second half, “those exercises really helped. I’m ready to go back in and play.”

“Good,” said the coach. “We need you.”

For the first five minutes of the second half, the Eagles played evenly with the Lasers. Then the Eagles got the break that they’d been waiting for. A Laser was called for a tripping foul in front of the Laser goal. The Eagles got a penalty kick, and they scored on a high shot that went just inside the net. The score was Lasers 2, Eagles 1.

Less than a minute later the Eagles scored again when the Laser goalie slipped while diving for the ball. Tie game.

The Lasers were angry now. Determined to win the game no matter what, they were called for several roughness penalties. But the Eagles just couldn’t capitalize on them. As the clock began to run out, the score was still 2–2.

Then, when a Laser missed an inbounds pass, the Eagles got the ball and forwarded it to Mike. He turned and looked at the goal, about thirty yards away. Gritting his teeth, he started upfield. Mike was not as large as most of the Lasers, but he was a lot quicker. He outran one defender, faked past another, and suddenly was in the clear, streaking toward the goal with only the goalie to stop him. Mike got ready to take his shot—then he saw something that changed everything.

Normally, Coach Griego didn’t play Clint if the game was close, but because of injuries, the coach had no choice. Clint didn’t like the Lasers’ rough style of play, but he had run near the sideline and slightly behind Mike, just in case …

Near the goal the Laser goalie charged at Mike and dived as Mike’s foot hit the ball. But the ball didn’t go toward the net. The words of Brother Thompson had flashed through Mike’s mind:

“Do the right thing.” Mike sent the ball to Clint, who dribbled just beyond Mike, then drew his leg back to make the kick, the biggest kick of the season.

The ball sailed up and over the top of the goal, missing the net completely. The referee blew his whistle, and the game was over, ending in a 2–2 tie. The Lasers and the Eagles were cochampions.

The Eagles kicked up clods of dirt as they left the field. Clint and Mike were still standing by the goal when the coach walked over. “Why didn’t you score?” he almost shouted at Mike. “The goalie was out of position, and we could have won the game.”

Mike was thinking about what Brother Thompson had said about helping a friend and about doing what’s right. “Clint was open,” Mike explained. “You told us that we’d win with passing, so I passed the ball to Clint.”

The coach shook his head and left the field. A moment later Mike felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Clint’s parents. “Mike,” said Clint’s mother, “I’d just like you to know how glad we are that you passed the ball to Clint. That was the first time that he had a chance to score a goal all year. And it almost went in; it really did. Thank you.”

Clint’s parents walked off the field with their son, their arms around his shoulder. On the sideline Mike’s family waited. His father was smiling. “Mike,” he said, “that was quite a thing you did out there. I’m proud of you, Son.”

“Clint was open,” Mike said simply as they all walked to the car. “It was the right thing to do.”

Elder Andersen explained how he felt when he was called to The Quorum of The Twelve Apostles. He said when he first sat in the seat that Elder Ulisses Soares now occupies, he looked up the row at the other 11 Apostles and the First Presidency, and feelings of personal inadequacy overwhelmed him. When I heard Elder Andersen say that, I sat up straight in my chair because I knew that what he had just said—and what he was going to say next—was specifically for me.
Elder Andersen said he struggled with this issue for a while and then it came: He heard the voice of the Lord say, “Neil, you did not put yourself there. I did, because I love you, and I know you can change, and I know you can help with my work.”