Gospel Story Finder

In my freshmen year of high school, I came across a popular new video game that was exceptionally violent. After a few times playing it, I began to enjoy it. I’d come home from school and plop down lazily on the couch to play, and I’d tell my younger siblings to go away because the game wasn’t appropriate for them.
It didn’t take long for the effects of my decisions to start happening. Slowly, I lost patience, love, peace, and the Spirit. My thoughts became violent and my temper became high. I was rude to people and pushed away kind acts. This happened for way too long.
One day I was reading the For the Strength of Youth booklet in the “Entertainment and Media” section when I realized what I had been doing. I’d been ignoring the warnings and silently been suffering for it. That day I repented and promised never to play games like that again. It was not easy in any way. I hadn’t realized my addiction to the awful game, and I have been nothing but blessed for quitting. I have become closer to my family and to my Father in Heaven.
I also learned a valuable lesson about keeping myself pure. The Lord wants us to become like little children (see Matthew 18:3), so if something is inappropriate for a little child to play, then it’s inappropriate for me.

Oh, no! That word jumped off the page at me, and the awareness of everything else in the classroom setting faded away. Our excellent, but no-nonsense, speech teacher had just assigned reading parts to the class and handed out the script. Quickly scanning the first page, I screeched to a stop when I hit that word!
You see, I knew that Connie had been assigned to read that line. With few exceptions, almost any one in the class could have read that profane word without any personal concern. But I knew Connie. I knew of her high standards in every area of her life and of her integrity in maintaining those standards with no compromise. She just exemplified purity and freshness and happiness. Clean thoughts and language were carefully guarded. Now suddenly she was expected to violate that standard by a teacher who saw nothing wrong at all with such language. The script was already being read aloud, and I wondered what she would do. Then it was time for Connie’s part.
“Oh, PUMPKIN!” she thundered! The startled class suddenly broke out in good-natured laughter. Our teacher looked up quickly from her paper with a surprised expression and momentarily studied Connie. Slowly a smile was born and then grew into full bloom as she realized that Connie wasn’t after attention or just trying to be funny. But Connie simply continued reading her part as though nothing unusual had happened.

Just when Flora and Ezra were beginning to grow closer to each other, they learned that they would be separated for two years. Ezra received a call to serve in the British Mission. He and Flora were excited about his opportunity to serve, and they “talked about their relationship. They wanted their friendship to continue, but they also recognized the need for Ezra to be a devoted missionary. ‘Before I left, Flora and I had decided to write [letters] only once a month,’ he said. ‘We also decided that our letters would be of encouragement, confidence and news. We did just that.’”5
In approaching the mission call this way, they exemplified a truth Ezra would teach the Saints many years later: “When we put God first, all other things fall into their proper place or drop out of our lives. Our love of the Lord will govern the claims for our affection, the demands on our time, the interests we pursue, and the order of our priorities.”6
As Ezra approached the end of his mission, he and Flora looked forward to seeing each other. But Flora “did more than anticipate the immediate prospect of spending time with him. She truly looked forward—to his future and his potential. … She was happy with Ezra’s apparent desire to settle on the family farm in Whitney, Idaho. However, she felt that he needed to finish his education first.”7 In her effort to help him do so, she joined him in putting God first. Less than a year after he returned from his mission, she surprised him by telling him that she was going to serve a mission herself. To learn more about her decision, see pages 10–11.

Much of my early testimony was formed through music. I adored bouncing up in “Jesus Wants Me For A Sunbeam”. I popped along to “Popcorn Popping”. I could perform “Book of Mormon Stories” in my sleep. But it wasn’t just fun. I distinctly remember learning “Love Is Spoken Here”, and becoming emotional as we sang it in Primary. Music hadn’t affected me like that before—I didn’t understand how I could be crying whilst being happy. It wasn’t just the lyrics—the melody itself, the voices of all my friends—it shocked me.
I realised that these songs had power. As I’ve gotten older, I still often turn to these songs when I’m in need. The second verse of “How Firm A Foundation” has been my companion through any scary experience, even if it was just venturing downstairs in the middle of the night for a glass of water.
“Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed, / For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.”1
Singing these lines has always brought me comfort. I truly feel Heavenly Father’s presence in those moments. The effect wouldn’t be the same if I just spoke the words—the act of singing aloud, a musical prayer, brings me the most comfort.
As an adult, music still plays a part in my testimony. I was lucky enough to see a concert of Rob Gardner’s Lamb of God a few years ago, as my sister Lauren was part of the choir. Individual performers, a choir, and an orchestra come together to recount the Saviour’s last days on earth. In the song “Gethsemane”, a narrator tells of the Saviour entering the garden of Gethsemane. The choir sings in Aramaic as the music swells. Of course, the effect of this cannot be accurately portrayed in writing—it is absolutely beautiful and brought me to tears. Now, when I think of Him, suffering so much in that garden, I hear that music. He suffered for us, out of the purest love. It is beautiful and mournful, awe inspiring and heartbreaking. “Gethsemane” helped me tap into those emotions at a slightly deeper level, as I tried to empathise with what our dear Saviour went through.
Music is another tool we can use to help strengthen our faith. It helps us to understand things in a different way, and sometimes in a deeper way. I feel spiritually enriched when I am able to listen to such music—for a brief moment, I am able to truly cast other things aside and just reflect on the gospel. It’s a blessing that I often forget I can use.
In October 1936, President J. Reuben Clark stated “We get nearer to the Lord through music than perhaps through any other thing except prayer.”2
As I teach my daughter those same Primary hymns I enjoyed years ago, I am happy to know that they can be a guide and a comfort to her. They certainly have for me. I am truly grateful for all the ways Heavenly Father has provided to bring us closer to Him, and to feel His presence in our daily lives.

Amidst the terrible hostilities in Missouri that would put the Prophet in Liberty Jail and see thousands of Latter-day Saints driven from their homes, Sister Drusilla Hendricks and her invalid husband, James, … arrived with their children at a hastily shaped dugout in Quincy, Illinois, to live out the spring of that … year [of great suffering].
Within two weeks the Hendrickses were on the verge of starvation, having only one spoonful of sugar and a saucerful of cornmeal remaining in their possession. In the great tradition of LDS women, Drusilla made mush out of it for James and the children, thus stretching its contents as far as she could make it go. When that small offering was [eaten by them], she washed everything, cleaned their little dugout as thoroughly as she could, and quietly waited to die.
Not long thereafter the sound of a wagon brought Drusilla to her feet. It was their neighbor Reuben Allred. He said he had a feeling they were out of food, so on his way into town he’d had a sack of grain ground into meal for them.
Shortly thereafter Alexander Williams arrived with two bushels of meal on his shoulder. He told Drusilla that he’d been extremely busy but the Spirit had whispered to him that “Brother Hendricks’ family is suffering, so I dropped everything and came [running].”

Recently I learned of two valiant young women who, as they lived the commandments and radiated the joy of the gospel, stood as witnesses of God. This is the story as told by a senior missionary at the MTC.
She said that years earlier she was at home one day ironing, watching a soap opera, and smoking a cigarette when there was a knock at the door. When she opened it, there were two men in white shirts and ties, and one of them introduced himself as her bishop. He said that as he was praying, he had felt inspired to ask her to teach Young Women. She told him that she had been baptized at age 10 but had never been active. He seemed undeterred as he showed her the manual and explained where they met on Wednesday night. Then she emphatically said, “I can’t teach 16-year-olds; I’m inactive, and besides I smoke.” Then he said, “You won’t be inactive anymore, and you have until Wednesday to quit smoking.” Then he left.
She said, “I remember shouting in the air in anger, but then I couldn’t resist the urge to read the manual. In fact, I was so curious, I read it from cover to cover and then memorized every word of that lesson.
“By Wednesday I was still not going to go, but I found myself driving to church, scared to death. I had never been scared of anything before. I had grown up in the slums, been in detention once myself, and rescued my father from the ‘drunk tank.’ And all of a sudden there I was at Mutual being introduced as the new Laurel adviser. I sat before two Laurels and gave the lesson word for word, even the parts that said ‘Now ask them …’ I left immediately after the lesson and cried all the way home.
“A few days later there was another knock at the door, and I thought, ‘Good. It’s the bishop here to retrieve his manual.’ I opened the door, and standing there were those two lovely Laurels, one with flowers, the other with cookies. They invited me to go to church with them on Sunday, which I did. I liked those girls. They began by teaching me about the Church, the ward, the class. They taught me how to sew, read scriptures, and smile.
“Together we started teaching the other girls in the class who weren’t coming. We taught them wherever we could find them—in cars, in bowling alleys, and on porches. Within six months, 14 of them were coming, and in a year all 16 girls on the roll were active. We laughed and cried together. We learned to pray, study the gospel, and serve others.”
These two valiant young women stood as witnesses for truth and righteousness, for goodness and the joy of the gospel.

After hearing Church leaders encourage youth to save money for full-time missions, we held a special family home evening with our two children, 10-year-old Allana and 7-year-old Ulric. We discussed the importance of saving for a full-time mission, then presented them with piggy banks to help them begin saving.
After that evening it was incredible how the money has accumulated. Ulric collects and saves every coin he can find; both children save any money they receive from relatives. In three months Ulric has saved enough to pay for the first month of his mission, and Allana is almost there. The children also make sure to pay tithing on the money they receive, and our family has seen great blessings as their testimonies of serving and sacrificing have taken root and grown.
Luiz and Andreia Pereira, São Paulo, Brazil

My family moved near Manti, Utah, in my sophomore year of high school. We lived at a place called Crystal Springs. By then, it was only a skeleton of more prosperous earlier years, when it had been a popular resort and, thereafter, a large dairy farm operated by my grandfather Giles and his family, including my folks.
We moved to Crystal Springs after my father had a heart attack and lost his job. We didn’t have much in those days, so it was necessary for my father to work as much as he could and for me to take employment as a plasterer’s helper to supplement the family income.
Although my parents were less active in the Church, my mother’s family, also living at Crystal Springs, fortunately were very active. They provided the critical support I needed to stay active in the Church at that time.
Of those high school days, I can remember many nights sitting on the edge of my bed, looking out at the Manti Utah Temple through my second-story bedroom window. I realized that, regardless of whether my folks had ever been there, the temple was a place I wanted to be able to go someday. The temple became a standard for me to measure everything else against.
It was during this time in my life that I began to feel the need to serve a mission. The promises made in D&C 31:5 began to play upon me: “Therefore, thrust in your sickle with all your soul, and your sins are forgiven you, and you shall be laden with sheaves upon your back. … Wherefore, your family shall live” (emphasis added). The two key promises in that verse became increasingly meaningful to me.
I made up my mind that I was going to serve a mission. I needed some method of showing the Lord that I truly did love Him in spite of my sometimes foolish youthful actions.
So, with the temple as a standard and a desire to serve a mission, I started to plan for a mission. Not long after that, my father had another heart attack and died. I was still in my first years at the university. With the death of my father, I suddenly realized that if I were to go on a mission, there would be no one to take care of my mother, grandmother, and two sisters.
I was torn between my sense of obligation toward my family and my obligation to Heavenly Father. I wasn’t even sure I could save enough money to get started on a mission, but I was determined that, if it were possible, I would go. I made a decision based totally on my faith in the Lord’s promise: “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you” (Matt. 6:33).
Not long after, I received an offer to work at a very good job as an engineering aide in Oregon, in the western United States, which permitted me to save for a mission and send some money home. Still, it wasn’t easy. But as I pondered D&C 31:5 and Matthew 6:33, the Spirit said to me, “If you will seek first my kingdom (a mission), I will take care of your family.” I didn’t know how that would be possible, but I believed the Lord’s promises with all my heart.
When the time neared for me to leave, I still didn’t have all the money I would need to support myself, so I went to my bishop and explained my predicament. He said, “All the help you need you’ve got right at your fingertips.”
“What do you mean?” I said.
He told me to talk to my relatives, even to nonmembers and less-active members, to see if they would help me. “Go bear your testimony to them,” he said. “Tell them you want to serve the Lord, and ask for their help.”
I didn’t know how I was going to do that, but I did, and all those I asked said they would help a little. The high priests group in my ward helped me with the rest.
I was soon on my way to the Spanish-American Mission, based in San Antonio, Texas. After I got into the mission field, the things that took place, both there and at home, clearly confirmed that I had made the right decision. My family was being taken care of as well or better than if I had stayed home, and the joy of missionary service had changed my heart and the direction of my life.
My mission became the great turning point in my life. I could tell myself and my family at home that I knew I was doing what the Lord wanted me to do and that, although I didn’t know how everything was going to work out, I knew it would work out the best for all of us.
During the time I was in the mission field, my mother began to come back to church. And when my sweetheart and I married after my mission, my mother was able to be in the temple with us. Many of those who assisted in financing my mission also drew closer to the Church.

After completing PathwayConnect, I decided to enroll in the public health program at Brigham Young University-Idaho. I completed a certification in public health planning and implementation, health method evaluation and epidemiology. I have learned to support the world in disease prevention and developed a pandemic health program. I was very happy to support my country during the COVID-19 breakout in Kinshasa. People were amazing. I learned more skills about how to control this disease in my community.

Sheets of postage stamps wait to be affixed to a pile of envelopes. But Rebecca is only one person. A Laurel in the Allerød Ward, Copenhagen Denmark Stake, Rebecca has a few thoughts about pornography and its damaging influence, and she’s doing something about it. But the work—stuffing envelopes with antipornography literature—is tedious and time consuming.
As she addresses the envelopes, she talks of her involvement with a program organized to protest pornography in Denmark.
“Pornography has such a large effect on our values, but Denmark is quite a liberal country and I can see that people almost get used to the pornography. But instead of getting used to it, we should be startled by it,” Rebecca says.
At Rebecca’s school, a fellow student started a protest against pornography and enlisted Rebecca’s help. These students gathered signatures for a petition they hope will gain them a voice with the government—especially with Denmark’s minister of culture, who oversees public television in the country.
“We can’t stop people from looking at pornography,” Rebecca explains, “but we would like to see pornography removed from public places where children can easily see it. You can’t just put children to bed early and expect them not to see those things on television.”
As she thinks about the Young Women values and considers what she represents as a member of the Church, Rebecca is glad to be involved in something she hopes will effect a change.
“You have to make a statement in your life. I think it’s important for us, especially as members of the Church, to do something to make the world a better place,” she says. “That thought has always been important to me, but a couple of months ago when I received my patriarchal blessing, I realized even more that I had to do something.”
When Rebecca’s group completed the project and sent the petition to the government, she allowed herself to think about the small part she played in getting more than 22,000 people to sign the petition and how the project strengthened her resolve to make Denmark a better place. She also smiles. Her group easily exceeded their goal of 15,000 signatures.
Rebecca knows things are not going to change overnight. But you have to start somewhere, right? “I think a lot of people out there hate pornography and its effects,” she says. “But many people are not willing to do or say anything. Sometimes I think people just need a little reminder once in a while.”

“The name Poelman is a Dutch name,” Elder Poelman explained. “My paternal grandfather was born in Holland, and as a young man in his teens, he left Holland and went to South Africa. There he married my grandmother, a Scottish girl. She was working at the time as a governess for an English family living in South Africa. My grandparents had one child born in South Africa, then they went back to the British Isles. Another child was born in England, and they moved to Glasgow, Scotland, where my father was born. It was to their home in Scotland that the missionaries came tracting, and my grandmother answered the door. They were on the third floor of an apartment house with only cold running water in the working-class section, and a man named A. Z. Richards was one of the missionaries. He stayed close to our family until he died, and I have always been very fond of him.
“Subsequently, I was called to serve as a missionary in Holland, as did all three of my younger brothers. My father also served a mission in Holland. That missionary experience was a valuable one for me, because I had an opportunity to meet some of my grandfather’s brothers and sisters, and I was able to learn the language.”
I asked Elder Poelman what message he wanted to share with the children of the world, and he replied, “Your Father in heaven knows who you are and loves you unconditionally. Even when you do things that are bad, He loves you. It makes Him sad, of course, but it doesn’t mean that He stops loving you. I would encourage you to pray to our Heavenly Father often, knowing that no matter what you’ve done or how you feel about yourself, Heavenly Father will listen to you.
“Sometimes we may think that the Lord loves us only if we keep His commandments and that if we disobey His commandments, He loves us less. That isn’t true! This is something Satan would like us to believe because then we feel estranged from our Father in heaven. Remember, He loves you all the time wherever you are and whatever you are doing.”

The last rays of the sun dipped behind the mountain. I was miles from home, sitting on a cot in a faded green tent, wondering how I was going to solve the dilemma I was in.
It was the end of the first day of my summer job as a forest ranger in eastern Utah. That morning, I had met the two women I would be working and camping with. I was only 19; they were both in their 30s. But our differences were deeper than age. On the hike to base camp, I had hung back and listened to them talk about how strange they thought members of the Church were.
Now it was night, and my co-workers were both slipping into their sleeping bags. “Are you ready to turn the lantern off?” one of them asked me.
I had a decision to make. I hadn’t done my scripture reading for the day. But I also knew how the two women felt about members of the Church. I didn’t want them to laugh at me.
I silenced my conscience and nodded my assent. The light was extinguished, and soon the even breathing of my co-workers told me they were asleep.
But sleep evaded me. After tossing and turning, I grabbed a flashlight and my Book of Mormon and headed down to a meadow just below our campsite. “This is the perfect solution,” I said to myself. “I can read my scriptures without being made fun of.”
Happy with my plan, I turned to Mormon 8. The contentment I felt ended when I reached verse 38 and read, “Why are ye ashamed to take upon you the name of Christ? Why do ye not think that greater is the value of an endless happiness than that misery which never dies—because of the praise of the world?”
That night, as I sat under the brilliant stars in a mountain meadow, I knew the Lord was speaking to me. I had been too afraid of ridicule to show my co-workers what I believed, and the Lord was disappointed in me. Armed with this knowledge, I resolved I would change.
The next night, when my co-worker asked if I was ready to put out the lantern, my answer was different. I cleared my throat and said, “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’m going to read the Book of Mormon for a few minutes.”
I steeled myself for her laughter, but it never came. “Oh, that’s fine,” she said. “Just turn the light off when you’re done.”
I’ve never forgotten the lesson I learned that night. For the first time, I understood how relentlessly Satan tries to make us feel that we won’t fit in if we do what we’re supposed to. Often, the ridicule we are so afraid of hearing never comes. We can never be examples for good unless we let the things we believe show through our actions.

He finished high school and went to work in a photo studio, developing film and studying photography while he continued searching for spiritual truth. Meanwhile, the tremor of political change had begun to softly shake Estonian life. People began to question the government openly for the first time.
One evening Jaanus and some friends carried the Estonian flag, fluttering over their shoulders, on the way to a patriotic song party. Enraged police saw the flag and chased them down. When they caught them, the police grabbed the flag and ripped it, but Jaanus and his friends were only reprimanded. This treatment by the police was a big change for the better.
“There is a special feeling in Estonia,” Jaanus later explained in an excited voice to his mother. “People are patriotic. We all feel this new warmth and happiness.”

I was born to A Latter-day Saint Family and baptized at age eight; I faithfully attended church and seminary. But although the gospel had always been a part of my life, I wasn’t truly converted.
As a seminary student, I had developed good habits of scripture study that served me well for several years. But I could never bring myself to get really serious about prayer. In my youth I had made many mistakes, which made praying seem painful and hard.
I went off to college, and when I was 21, my father died unexpectedly in an accident. In my bitterness, I stopped reading the scriptures.
Years passed. I married in the temple and bore three children while my husband struggled through law school. Because I was without the sustenance of scripture study and deep, sincere prayer, the trials and frustrations of this period left me open to the adversary. My feelings became tainted with anger and a sense of failure.
Then my husband graduated and found a job that took us to another state. I had lived in many parts of the United States, but this move left me feeling terribly out of place. Our new ward was in a fairly wealthy area. My husband and I had a lot of school debt and very few possessions. We drove an old car, our clothes were outdated, and our furniture was secondhand and mismatched. The disparity was painfully obvious to me.
It wasn’t that I coveted what others had. I simply couldn’t imagine that they could see me as a worthwhile person when I had so little.
As the months passed, I had great difficulty making friends in the ward. I had been fairly comfortable in our wards in college, but now I felt intimidated and isolated from the friends and family who valued me.
A very long year and a half passed. I felt more insecure and unaccepted than I had felt since being a teenager in junior high school. I gave up even trying to fit in.
Then a ward member named Julie, a sister whom I greatly admired, began reaching out to me. She was 10 years older than I, a woman of great faith, and respected by everyone. I couldn’t believe she really wanted to get to know me, but I was lonely enough to accept her invitation to go jogging with her and some of her friends each morning at a nearby track.
Every day, Julie arrived having just finished morning prayer and scripture study. She was always filled with enthusiasm about the gospel, the scriptures, and the insights that came to her as she read. Running with her was like going to a devotional or a seminary class. And she seemed genuinely interested in me; she listened without judgment to my frustrations and fears.
I found Julie’s enthusiasm irresistible. Following her example, I became dedicated to a program of regular, serious scripture study for the first time in seven years.
I began to feel the Spirit in my life on a daily basis, and I found that I was able to follow the Spirit in fulfilling my calling as a Beehive adviser. I also realized that even though I’d been physically present in the programs and meetings, I had been spiritually inactive for many years.
Then one day, I walked into church a little late. Julie was leading the music, as she did every week. I looked up at her face. Her smile was wonderful, radiant, somehow filled with light. She looked directly at me, and I was overcome with an overpowering sensation of warmth and peace and joy. I was surprised. I knew I was feeling the Spirit very strongly, but I didn’t understand what the feeling meant.
I pondered throughout Sunday School and sacrament meeting, all the time cherishing this feeling of great peace and joy. By the end of the meeting, I understood the reason for this witness. I realized that Julie, being filled with the Spirit, actively sought to convey the love of the Savior to the congregation by the light of her countenance (see Alma 5:14, 19).
And then, into my mind came the whispered words that changed my life: “You must learn to be like that.” I was stunned. Suddenly my perspective shifted. I was to learn to smile like that and to convey the love and kindness to others that Julie had extended to me. For the first time, I understood that if I had the love of Christ in my countenance, no one would care what my clothes looked like, or my car, or my house.
My life was very different after that. The next month I walked into homemaking meeting, where I had always felt hopelessly out of place; I looked around at the room full of faces as if for the first time. It seemed that everyone there was either my friend already or needed a friend. I saw no condescension or condemnation in anyone. Nor was I looking for it. I was looking outward for what I could give.
After that, I continued to mature in terms of my motivation and expectations. As I felt more and more of the Spirit in my life, I desired to have the strength and faith to do anything the Lord might ask.
About this time, I attended a fireside where Julie spoke; she talked a lot about prayer. I took her counsel to heart and decided to start praying morning and night with real sincerity. I got up earlier than before, scheduled 15 or 20 minutes just for prayer, and treated it as an appointment with the most important person in my life. I found that I could get answers and guidance in a way I never had before.
I began to study the Atonement intensively. And I studied the doctrine of the change of heart and the meaning of being born again. As I studied, I developed a profound reverence for the Savior, for the power of his atonement, and for its efficacy in saving me from all of my failings and weaknesses.
One day I read Mosiah 5:7–8: “Ye shall be called the children of Christ … ; for ye say that your hearts are changed through faith on his name; therefore, ye are born of him and have become his sons and his daughters.
“And under this head ye are made free, and there is no other head whereby ye can be made free.”
Now I understood the words made free. I was being released from so many personal fears, inadequacies, and negative feelings that it seemed as if tangible shackles were falling from my hands and feet. My posture changed as I began to see myself as a person who had every reason to stand tall. My children asked why I was smiling so much. My husband asked why we didn’t quarrel anymore. My mother and brothers simply asked, “What happened?”
I spent three years in that ward where I had initially felt so uncomfortable. My last 18 months were a wonderful, fulfilling time. Sometimes I faced difficult trials, but I also felt an assurance that the Lord was mindful of me and that the painful experiences were for my growth.
By the time I left that ward, I not only felt loved, I also felt trusted and honored by the members there. I had had many humbling, spiritual experiences as well as opportunities to serve, to speak, and to teach. The ward had become a cherished family.
Julie remains a dear friend. Her gift for radiating light continues to touch my life and the lives of many others. Her example showed me how to reach for the Savior, the source of the light. And this has given me the means to lift and love and comfort many people. I believe that if I continue to progress, someday I, too, will be filled with his love and receive his image in my countenance.

Photograph courtesy of Dani K.
Many teens in rock bands would probably tell you that playing rock ’n’ roll is its own reward. Beyond that, they probably don’t feel they really need a reason for doing it. Well, when six friends in Colorado, USA, formed a band together (Dani K., Jake G., Joey B., Matt N., Michael B., and Scott L.), they set higher goals, and because of that, they also had greater rewards.
For one thing, they wanted their music to lift rather than degrade. “We know that there’s a lot of filth we could be playing,” says Michael, “but we choose only songs that are clean and uplifting.” And Jake adds, “The music we’ve written is uplifting and clean (not to mention catchy and fun!), inspiring people to build their talents in a manner that will bring others unto Christ.”
In addition, they wanted their band’s behavior to make an impression—in a good way. “I remember when we walked through the studio doors the first day of recording,” recalls Dani, “and our producer was shocked that we were on time, awake, and sober.”
Matt adds, “We have covenanted with God to stand as a witness of Him at all times. We have been given wonderful gifts and opportunities, and I want to use them to share the message of the Savior with the world.”
The band has also been able to fulfill their goal of serving others in a variety of ways. For instance, they have performed at firesides and other Church events, and they have performed for the sick and injured, both in small, intimate settings and at big fundraising events for large organizations. One of those organizations is special to the band, since it helps those with type 1 juvenile diabetes, a disease that Jake has had since age four and that Dani was diagnosed with two years after joining the band.
“Our band friends are aware of our medical needs and help us endure the trials we face with the disease,” says Jake. “The band has been such a blessing to us and strengthened our friendship.”
Their friendship has extended beyond the band experience as well. They’ve been together at Eagle Scout projects and other major milestones in each other’s lives. And their friendship will continue even after they go their separate ways for missions and college.
“My fantastic friends in this band have helped me to live the gospel,” says Joey. “This band has given me strength to overcome temptation. I have a testimony of the power and influence that good friends can have.”
And Scott believes that their band “is proof that living the gospel can be done anywhere. That is a great comfort to me.”

As the usual family festivities of Christmas Eve were drawing to an end, I felt that can’t-wait-until-morning feeling of excitement!
I was eight years of age and the oldest grandchild in my large extended family. Every few minutes, a parent, aunt, or uncle would open the door and exclaim about hearing the faint sound of bells. I could hardly wait for Santa to arrive! Yet Grandpa still insisted on going caroling first—a family tradition. “Santa will never come!” I thought.
As we hopped into our frost-covered cars, we realized it was a lot later than we normally left. The small town where we lived in Idaho was very quiet and cold. Some family members worried that we shouldn’t go caroling so late, but my grandpa insisted that we should visit a couple houses.
As we drove down the small, tree-covered lane, we could see no hint of light in the tiny log cabin belonging to “Old Jim.” Jim was a good friend, and he had a big heart. He had been a widower since I could remember.
“Surely Jim wouldn’t care if we didn’t stop!” I moaned. Santa Claus would miss us for sure!
But my good grandfather persisted: “Just quietly gather by the bedroom window and start with ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem.’”
Our voices were unsteady at first, but strength lies in numbers, and it wasn’t long until the music swelled into a beautiful, harmonious melody.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light.
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight.
There was still no light on in Jim’s home, but we continued to sing.
O morning stars, together
Proclaim the holy birth,
And praises sing to God the King,
And peace to men on earth 1
The cabin door opened.
In the moonlight, we could see tears run down Jim’s face. As he embraced us all, he cried—really cried. After a time, he wiped the tears of joy from his face and said to us, “I have waited all year for you to come. You are my Christmas. And when the clock turned 9:30, I thought I had been forgotten. I was so disappointed. I had gone to bed, for there was no reason to stay up anymore.”
Our hearts were filled. As Jim motioned us into his home and turned on the light, we could see that he indeed had been expecting us. His kitchen table was beautifully set, and there was everything from Christmas cake and cookies to cold meats cut and laid out waiting for us to eat. The cups had been carefully counted and lovingly filled with sweet apple cider, so as “not to miss a one of you,” Jim added.
Jim said we had been his Christmas? Not so. Jim had been ours.
The gift of love we received that cold Christmas Eve was more wonderful than anything Santa could ever have left under our Christmas tree. And it was a reminder that the Lord wants us to minister to His children as He does—one by one, bringing His love with us (see 3 Nephi 11:15–17; 17:21).

There has never been a time in my life that was more important than my own mission in preparing me for what I am now doing as a General Authority. I served in the British Mission from 1948 to 1950. All of England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland were part of that mission. The Church had gone through a difficult period in the British Isles after World War II, and we were reopening the area to missionary work. We would knock on doors and hand out tracts about the Church.
You can’t be timid for long as a missionary. Street meetings were a very popular form of missionary work. We would set up a stand in the marketplace or town square, sing a few hymns, then bear our testimonies and answer questions.
The second day I was in England, I attended my first street meeting at Hyde Park in London. Six missionaries and our mission president, Selvoy J. Boyer, were there. President Boyer called on two missionaries to speak. I was one of them.
On my way up to the stand, he said to me, “Elder Ballard, you preach the gospel.” I quickly picked the principle of baptism and said everything I knew about it in about 30 seconds. That was a good experience because it made me realize very quickly how much I did not know. I realized I had a lot of studying to do.

First, an honored and respected name. I will be eternally grateful to a father who thought enough of me to give me his name. It was a name of honor and respect in the community in which I grew up. It carried before it the title of bishop from the time I was six months old until just a few months before I left to go on my mission. How proud I was of his service. I was pleased that he had the patience to involve me in his responsibilities. Working on a welfare farm, cleaning the chapel, balancing ward financial records, carrying a sack of flour to a widow, etc., were a part of my early life. I was with him so much I received the nickname of “Bishop.” I attempted to wear it with pride and honor. It had the effect of making me reach a little higher. I wanted to try to be on the same plane as my father. Should not every child have the same opportunity?

Fathers, is it not your obligation to give your children an honored and respected name?
Second, every child needs a sense of security. I often think of the security of our old family home. It was a fortress against the adversary. Each morning and evening it was blessed by the priesthood as we would kneel in family prayer. That power was also manifest as my father blessed his family in time of need.
Fathers, is it not your obligation to give your children a home blessed with the power of the priesthood?
Third, an opportunity for development. My children taught me a great lesson one day. We had moved from California to New York where I had accepted an employment opportunity and we were in the process of finding a new home. We started close to the city, but each day that passed we would move further out to find a home more suited to our needs. In Connecticut we found just the one. It was a beautiful home nestled in New England’s radiant forests. We were all pleased with the selection. The final test before making an offer for purchase was to ride the train into New York to check out the commuting time. I made the trip and returned very discouraged. The trip required an hour and a half each way. I returned to the motel where my family was waiting for me and gave them the choice of having a father or this new home. Much to my surprise, they said, “We will take the home. You are not around much anyway.”
The shock of that statement was overwhelming to me. If that statement was true, I needed to repent fast. My children deserved a father. Is it not our obligation as fathers to spend as much time as possible with our children, to teach them honesty, industry, and morality?
Fourth, give your children the opportunity of having a joyful, happy childhood. The priesthood manual a few years ago quoted a story written in 1955 by Bryant S. Hinckley. It is as follows:
“‘Three hundred twenty-six school children of a district near Indianapolis were asked to write anonymously just what each thought of his father.
“‘The teacher hoped that the reading of the essays might attract the fathers to attend at least one meeting of the Parent-Teacher’s Association.
“‘It did.
“‘They came in $400 cars and $4,000 cars. Bank president, laborer, professional man, clerk, salesman, meter reader, farmer, utility magnate, merchant, baker, tailor, manufacturer, and contractor, every man with a definite estimate of himself in terms of money, skill, and righteousness. …
“‘The president picked at random from another stack of papers. “I like my daddy,” she read from each. The reasons were many: He built my doll house, took me coasting, taught me to shoot, helps me with my schoolwork, takes me to the park, gave me a pig to fatten and sell. Scores of essays could be reduced to “I like my daddy. He plays with me.”’
“Not one child mentioned his family house, car, neighborhood, food or clothing.
“The fathers went into the meeting from many walks of life. They came out in two classes: companions to their children or strangers to their children.
“No man is too rich or too poor to play with his children.” (The Savior the Priesthood and You, Melchizedek Priesthood Manual, 1973–74, p. 226.)
I am aware how concerned we each are with the leadership we find in the world today. To change the head of a nation, state, or community towards righteous leadership may require our earnest efforts for years. But there is something we can change today to make the world a better place in which to live. Husbands and fathers, the power is within you as bearers of the priesthood. Enjoy the inspiration of God, our Eternal Father, to lead, guide, and direct your families in righteousness. You stand at the head of the only organization I know of that can be eternal. Should not that charge and responsibility receive top priority in your life?
God bless you to understand your duties and responsibilities to be righteous husbands and fathers, I humbly pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Then President Pulman related this story. He, along with the advance party for the conference, had arrived a day early to prepare everything. The first person they saw was a porter of the university, who asked them to sit down a moment as he had something to say.

This porter had about 500 young people in his wing of the college every year. He said about 60 percent were not very well behaved. But for the last three years there had been a truly exceptional student who had never put a foot wrong and had been a wonderful example to all around her. He had learned that she was LDS, so he had decided to give the Latter-day Saints a welcome on behalf of the staff.

Then President Pulman called on the soloist to stand up, and stated that she was the student the porter had spoken of. I realized why I had been so impressed with the beautiful young lady who had proved such a worthy representative of the Church. I hope that as other LDS youth leave home, whether for a university or a youth conference, they will live so that they too can be outstanding examples.

I should like to read you a letter. It is of a kind that we occasionally receive. A man writes:
“I feel compelled to write to you after reading your comments from the April general conference. I was especially moved by your comments on ‘Converts and Young Men.’ I was reading the article on the Internet and was touched by your words. Your perception of converts and their special needs was especially moving to me since I was a convert to the Church. I wanted to write to you and tell you that I agree with all of your statements, and that had more members been aware of the needs of a convert I would probably have stayed in the Church.
“I was converted to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1994. This was after a long period of time in which I was searching for the true church. I had explored just about every denomination and church but never found what I was looking for. From my first contact with the missionaries, I knew that they were presenting something to me that would change my life. I listened to what they had to say, and I heard what I was looking for all those years. I don’t know if there are words to describe how I felt after hearing their message. I was finally at peace. It all made sense. I earnestly studied the Church and felt as if I had found a ‘home.’ I decided to be baptized on October 8, 1994. It was one of the greatest days of my life.
“However, after my baptism, things with the Church changed. I suddenly was thrown into an environment where I was supposed to know what was going on. I now was not the focus of attention but just another member. I was treated as if I was in the Church for years.
“I had been told that there would be six discussions following my joining the Church. They never took place. At this same time, I was feeling intense pressure from my fiancée to not be in the Church. She was extremely anti-Mormon [in her] beliefs and didn’t want me to be a part of it. We fought often about the Church. I thought that I could make her see my side of the story. I thought that if I just had more time to participate in the Church, she wouldn’t think of it as a bad thing or as a cult. I thought that she would see from my example that this was the true Church and she would come to accept it.
“I used the missionaries for a lot of support. They helped … to think of ways to convince my fiancée that I had made the right decision. That worked until the missionaries were transferred. They moved away, and I was basically left alone. At least, that is how I thought. I looked to the members for support, but there was none. The bishop helped, but he could only do so much. I gradually lost my ‘warm, fuzzy feeling’ about the Church. I felt like a stranger. I began to doubt the Church and its message. Eventually, I started to listen more to my fiancée. Then I made a decision that maybe I had rushed into the Church too quickly. I wrote my bishop and asked that my name be removed from the Church records. I allowed this to be done. That was a low point in my life.
“Now, it’s two years since I left the Church. I have gone back to [my old church] and haven’t been involved with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints since then. I am constantly praying and asking God to guide me. I know in my heart that He will guide me to His true Church. However, I don’t know if that is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints or if it even exists at all. I regret that I left the Church and had my name removed from the records, but at the time I felt that there was no other option. The experience left a bad impression with me, and it would be difficult to overcome.
“As the Church prepares to implement a program for the retention of new converts, I wanted you to know … that I think a lot of new converts may have similar experiences to mine. I know that there are people who are joining the Church against the advice of friends and family. This is a big step for them, and they should be supported at this critical time. I know from my past that had the support been there, I would not be writing this letter to you.
“Thank you for your time,” and he signs the letter.