Gospel Story Finder

Gratefully, I recently had the chance to teach my fearful daughter that we can repent and move on in our lives rather than let our past scar and cripple us. As my father and I finished work on a playhouse for my kids this past fall, I came across the name of my daughter’s friend scribbled on the side of the door. Though my nervous daughter wasn’t the one who had ­written it, her anxiety kicked into high gear.

“Don’t tell Grandpa,” was her first plea, ­followed shortly thereafter by the question “Was that before or after I was baptized?” Her logical child’s thought was, “Am I accountable for my friend’s graffiti on the playhouse?” Her follow-up question to me was, “Can I be forgiven?” A past mistake—in this case not even one of her own doing—threatened to cloud her happiness in both the present and the future.

We then discussed her fears from being sent to the principal’s office in first grade and how it was still affecting her life. We talked about the importance of repentance and how once we have repented, we need to believe in the power of the Atonement in our lives. Standing on the porch of that playhouse, I pulled up the following words on my phone from the final general conference address of President Boyd K. Packer:

Nowhere is the generosity and mercy of God more manifest than in repentance.
Our physical bodies, when harmed, are able to repair themselves, sometimes with the help of a physician. If the damage is extensive, however, often a scar will remain as a reminder of the injury.
With our spiritual bodies it is another matter. Our spirits are damaged when we make mistakes and commit sins. But unlike the case of our mortal bodies, when the repentance process is complete, no scars remain because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
President Packer then added his testimony:

The Atonement, which can reclaim each one of us, bears no scars. That means that no matter what we have done or where we have been or how something happened, if we truly repent, He has promised that He would atone. And when He atoned, that settled that. There are so many of us who are thrashing around, as it were, with feelings of guilt, not knowing quite how to escape. You escape by accepting the Atonement of Christ, and all that was heartache can turn to beauty and love and eternity. . . .
. . . If you have something that is bothering you—sometimes so long ago you can hardly remember it—put the Atonement to work. It will clean it up, and you, as does He, will remember your sins no more.26

Handing her my paintbrush, we repeated the words “no scars” as she painted over her friend’s name.

The spirit of Family Past in our doctrine also includes our appreciation for Adam and Eve, our first mortal parents. Our understanding of Family Past reaches even further back, prior to Eden, prior to the earth's creation--to our family relationship with God himself. Through the Restoration, we know that each of us lived in a pre-earth life with God, the literal father of our individual spirits. I recently met a bright and vivacious new Church member from Illinois whose discovery of the doctrine of our pre-mortal life was the turning point in her conversion. These ideas rang so true and meant so much to her that she just kept telling everybody, "We lived before! We lived before!"

A good number of years ago I found myself on a bus. The bus was loaded with young men from all over the country. We were arriving at Castle Air Force Base in California to attend summer camp. We were cadets aspiring to be commissioned second lieutenants in the United States Air Force. As the bus entered the field, we got off and were met by a regular Air Force captain who assembled us in companies on the parade ground. Suitcases, duffel bags, and civilian clothes were everywhere. We were given directions to the barracks and the commissary. We were told to report in dress uniforms at 2:00 that afternoon on the parade grounds. I was assigned to lead the first company away.
It was an interesting summer. We spent much time in the classroom, some on the firing line, and some in the air. Each week there was a rotation of assignments; we all drew our fair share of disagreeable duty, and each week cadet officers were appointed to participate in special leadership training programs and to direct the lives of the rest of us.
As the summer wore on, I became aware that I had not received a leadership assignment. As camp drew to an end and the last duty rosters were posted, I noticed that I had been overlooked as a cadet commander. Knowing that my success or failure in the Air Force depended in part on how well I performed in this capacity, I asked for and received an appointment with the officer in charge of the camp.
At the proper hour, I presented myself at his office. I saluted. When asked what I wanted to discuss, I told him that I had noticed a mistake in the duty roster, and that I had not been given the rotating assignment of cadet commander. Without even looking from his desk the captain told me that he knew that, that he had already decided that I had no future in the Air Force. As I started to protest, he said, “You remember the day that you got off the bus? I asked you to march the men to the barracks. As I watched you, I knew that you did not have what it takes to be an officer in the Air Force. The duty roster stands. You are dismissed.”
A flood of thoughts came to my mind. Years of preparation were suddenly of no avail. The course of my life hung in the balance. I turned to leave. There was a silent prayer in my heart. More of a question than a prayer, really. Did I come this far to fail? I thought. I found myself immobilized in front of the captain’s desk. I struggled for words. My career was important to me. To my surprise, I clicked my heels together, saluted smartly, and without having taken thought of what I should say, I said, “Begging the captain’s pardon, sir, but I was under the impression that we were going to be graded by what we learned while we were here, not by what we knew when we came.”
Now you don’t talk that way to regular Air Force officers. There was no precedent for what I did or said. At the time, I didn’t know from what source came the courage for the words. But I do know that I was at a crossroads. My future activities and associates would be different, depending upon what happened at that moment. My temptations and trials would be different, depending upon what happened at that moment. I would be an enlisted man or an officer, depending on what happened at that moment. The course of my life hung in the balance, as it so often does on little things.
The captain got up from his desk; he nearly bit his cigar in two. He obviously was unaccustomed to that kind of insubordination. He walked around to where I stood. He looked at my shoes, he looked at my uniform, he looked at my double chin as I held myself at strict military attention. For at least five minutes, although it seemed much longer, he circled me time after time. I stood there not knowing what else to do. Finally he said, “I might have been wrong about you. Maybe you do have what it takes to be an officer in this man’s Air Force. We’ll change the duty roster; you can command your company during the last week’s activities. We’ll see what you can do.”

One afternoon while my mom was reading the Church News, I saw a picture of a child who looked sick. I asked my mom why he looked that way. My mom told me that it was a picture of a child in Ethiopia, and that he did not have enough to eat. He was starving. I asked my mom if we could go to the grocery store and buy some food for him. My mom explained that children who are starving need to eat special food that we could not buy at the grocery store. But she told me that we could give money to the bishop at church, and he would make sure that it would help people in need, including the children in Ethiopia. I ran to my room and brought back a bag full of money from my piggy bank.
When we arrived at church on Sunday, my mom took me to get a tithing envelope. Together my mom and I filled out the donation slip. We listed the amount of money I had brought in the “humanitarian aid” line of the donation slip. I couldn’t wait to give my envelope to the bishop. It made me feel good to share what I have with others.

I love sports!
At my high school, I play soccer, volleyball, tennis, rugby, hockey, and handball. And I swim. I also go everywhere on my bicycle.
To keep up, I have to take care of my body. I get up at 6:30 a.m. and go to bed at 10:00 p.m. To keep my body healthy, especially as an athlete, I need 8 to 10 hours of sleep.
The gospel helps me stay healthy too. The Word of Wisdom warns us against smoking and drinking things like alcohol and coffee. Besides protecting our bodies from harm, the Word of Wisdom is like a contract with the Lord that helps us return to Him.
I’m one of the biggest boys in my grade, so everyone always asks me for advice. I try to show others what to do by being a good example. My friends don’t smoke, but some of them drink. I tell them I don’t drink when they invite me to join them, but we still remain friends.
The gospel doesn’t just bless me, it also blesses my family. My brother and sister watch and copy everything I do, so I try to be the best example I can be.
Juan Cruz G., 14, Córdoba, Argentina

Coach Ken Jenks has some good news and some bad news for the boys on his soccer team. As members of a recreation-league soccer team, they’ve had incredible success. The LDS boys, who have teamed up with nonmember friends, are some of the best soccer players in the area.
The coach starts with the good news. “Well, boys, we’ve got a great team, and the Southern California Soccer League championship is in the bag,” he says. Then his face clouds a bit, and he delivers the bad news. “But we’ll be playing three games, and one of them is on a Sunday. How do you feel about that?”
Five hands reluctantly but firmly go up. Eric Miller, 14, Jeff Jenks, 14, Justin Bonsey, 14, and twins Trent and Travis Weaver, 15, stand up and tell the group, “We can’t play on Sunday.” The boys, who are members of the Cypress First Ward, Cypress California Stake, aren’t happy about the idea of missing out on the biggest game of the season, but they are sure about their decision.
They’re following a precedent set five years earlier by a basketball team of mostly Primary-aged Mormon boys (some of whom now play on the soccer team) from the Cypress Stake. The team, the Cypress Bulldogs, chose to play basketball with the Orange County youth league because games were not held on Sunday.
The Bulldogs won every game and were set for the championship final game play-off. But unlike regular-season play, the championship game was scheduled on a Sunday. When the coach (who is also a member of the Church) found out about the Sunday game, he called the team together. He explained to them his belief that they shouldn’t play on Sunday, but he left the decision of whether or not they should play to the boys. He suggested that they take a vote to see if the team wanted to play on Sunday or not. The team voted unanimously to support their coach, meaning they would forfeit the game.
Richard Wynder, who is now 15, says, “Even though we had won every game during the whole season, nobody had second thoughts about not playing the championship game on Sunday. It was something we all felt we had to do.”
John Harris, one of the members of the basketball team who was not LDS, has since joined the Church because of the examples of his LDS teammates. Also, some of the other basketball teams from the area are now refusing to play on Sunday. This has also influenced several of the soccer teams and football teams who have taken the same stand.
One of the non-LDS coaches said, “I don’t want the league to schedule games on Sunday because some of my best players are Mormons.”
Although the controversy of the games on Sunday still continues in Orange County sports leagues, the boys’ stand is beginning to make a difference. Many local sports organizations are holding Sunday games less often.
So, as expected, the soccer team plays well on Saturday and wins easily. Then the Mormon boys wish their team the best and go to church on Sunday. The non-LDS members of the team play the championship game and lose. The team takes third place.
Eric shrugs his shoulders, “This game is a temporary thing. I really would have liked to play that championship game if it hadn’t been on Sunday, but I know that keeping the Sabbath will help me return to my Father in Heaven.”
Justin echoes Eric, “It was an individual decision for me, too. I know that it is right and so it didn’t bother me either. The next day some of the kids at school were a little upset, but I think they respected me for staying with my standards.”
And respect from peers, parents, coaches, and other players is a valuable by-product of the sacrifice these boys have made. But perhaps even more important than that is the fact that their example does not go unnoticed by the younger boys waiting for their turn to play the game—but not on Sunday.
Editor’s note: Because of the stand these and other LDS boys have made, regular-season soccer games are no longer held on Sunday in Orange County, California.

I also remember learning the importance of prayer. When I was about five or six, my baby brother David would sometimes get such high fevers that he would go into convulsions, making his body shake and tremble. This worried my parents. I remember how they put David into a cool bath one day, trying to bring down his fever and stop his convulsions. I took my four-year-old sister, Helen, into another room, where we kneeled and prayed that everything would be all right. We finished our prayer and told our mother that David would be all right. And he was. David never had another convulsion. Prayer is real, and it works.

I was afraid a lot.
I was afraid my dad would kill himself while driving drunk. I was afraid he’d kill someone else when he was driving drunk.
Late at night I would lie in my bed with all the lights out. I would wait and wait to hear his car pull in. I’d pray over and over, “Please help him get home safely. Please don’t let him hit anyone.”
In the morning I’d look at how the car was parked in the driveway. Sometimes it would be barely an inch from the house. Sometimes it would be over into the neighbor’s flowers.
I was afraid he’d embarrass me. He did. He’d wake up from sleeping off a drunk and not really be sober. He’d stumble out of the bedroom. He’d stink of beer. He’d say dumb things. I hated it.
My real friends still liked me. Still, it was embarrassing.
I was afraid my parents would get a divorce. Many times they would have fights when my dad drank. He had a black leather suitcase in his closet. He’d get it out and start packing his clothes. If it were daytime I’d run out of the house. One day I took my dad’s white pocketknife with me. I wanted to have something of his if he left.
Sometimes I was afraid my parents would not get a divorce. I was afraid they would keep living together and I would never have a home that was nice. I thought my mother and I could go live with my grandparents. It sounded so safe.
Fear
Your friend may worry that her dad will get into an accident while driving drunk.
She may be afraid her parents will divorce. Or she may be equally afraid this painful way of living will go on forever.
She fears that her dad may embarrass her with inappropriate behavior.
She’s afraid no one will like her because of her father’s actions.
Of these fears only the last one is within your control. Make very sure your friend knows that you love and respect her. Your friendship can help reduce the corrosive effects of all the other fears.
Fear
Your life is full of fears—fear of a drunken accident, fear of divorce, fear of humiliation—the list seems endless.
I wish I could give you an easy formula for banishing fear, but I can’t. For one thing, many of your fears are well grounded.
I can only give you two bits of advice. First, when you are afraid, pray. Our Father in Heaven knows your fears and can help you master them.
Second, let some trusted adult counselor help you distinguish between real dangers and imaginary ones. With so many real things to fear, there is no room for phantoms.

You’ll see the most striking difference between character and actor when you look at Natalie Green. She plays Karen Parker, who makes progressively worse choices through the entire series. In real life, Natalie is a lively senior at Box Elder High School, where she’s an avid participant in the drama program. Away from school, she loves outdoor activities, including fishing, camping and rodeo. She’s a far cry from the questioning, sulking Karen.

Yet even with such a negative character, Natalie learned and grew from her part. She remembered catching the missionary spirit from the segment where the cast works to convert a nonmember friend. When one of Natalie’s theater acquaintances began asking questions about the Church, Natalie drew from the knowledge and spirit the script had given her. Soon Natalie and her friend were sharing membership in the Church as well as a place on the local stage.

I belong to a family of five, and we attend church every Sunday, all except my dad. He is not a member of the Church, and this makes me sad. He is a very good dad and sometimes comes to parties or trips organized by the ward. I would like it if he always came.
My mom taught me in Primary that Heavenly Father listens to our prayers and wants to help us. So I said a prayer that He would help my dad understand how much the gospel means for our family.
On Saturday I was about to watch TV when something happened. My dad came and said there were better things I could be doing instead of sitting in front of the TV. “For example,” he said, “what would you think if I read you a nice story from the Liahona?”
So he sat down with me and my two little brothers and read to us. I don’t know how my dad knew those stories were in the Liahona. But I do know that Heavenly Father had listened to my prayers and answered, touching my dad’s heart so he read something in the Church magazine.
I thank my Heavenly Father because He listens to my prayers.

Car horns blared and taxis and buses jostled for a place in the traffic. As Benjamin Misalucha sat in the marketplace watching the automobiles roll by, he reached for a handkerchief and mopped his brow. He hoped his wife would be done with the shopping soon. The weather was hot and muggy, as it often is in the Philippines, and he was eager to get home and relax with his children.

Then he noticed a sign, high on the side of one of the buildings overlooking the square. “No other success can compensate for failure in the home,” the sign read. He found himself contemplating the message and believing in its truth.

“During those times I was young, about 30, and had four children. We had everything, comparatively speaking, compared to other Filipinos, but I was not satisfied with my life. In my heart I knew I was searching for something more,” he said.

He didn’t guess that the quotation from President David O. McKay had been inscribed on the sign by missionaries living in the building, the same kind of Mormon missionaries who had already visited with him for three weeks when he lived in Manila, the capital city. He had also been visited twice by the elders here in Davao, another large city in the south.

A short time later, Benjamin Misalucha was transferred by his pharmaceutical company to Cebu City, an important community on one of the central islands. It was in Cebu that Mr. Misalucha and his family would discover the secret of what had been lacking in their lives.

The Misaluchas were excited about their new home. Cebu and the region surrounding it are important in the history of the Philippines. It was here that Ferdinand Magellan, who sought to circumnavigate the earth, first introduced Christianity to the islands. What is reputed to be Magellan’s wooden cross still stands in the city plaza. From 1565 to 1571, Cebu was the Spanish colonial capital, and Cebuanos later played key roles in the fight for independence from Spain. During World War II, in reprisal for guerilla action, Cebu City proper was almost entirely razed. But the port remained intact and the city was rebuilt. Today Cebu remains an inter-island trade and domestic airline center. Its citizens are a conglomeration of farmers, factory workers, and businessmen. The Misaluchas soon discovered that, like Filipinos everywhere, the people of Cebu are quick to smile and just as quick to lend a helping hand.

“Filipinos are basically close,” Benjamin’s wife, Avelina, explained. “We maintain close family ties, and ties with other Filipinos as well. We share experiences, even material things.”

In a society in which sharing is so accepted, it might seem unusual that someone would stand out as being particularly kind and generous. But such was the case with the local Parent Teacher Association (PTA) president. Right from the start she went out of her way to help the Misaluchas adjust to their new city. Soon Mr. Misalucha was serving on the PTA board. He eventually found out that the PTA president was also the wife of the local Mormon bishop. His curiosity grew and grew.

“One day I saw both of them walking home, and I ran over to catch up with them,” Mr. Misalucha explained. “I told him I wanted to know more about his church. He said he could recommend a couple of nice young men who could teach me about it.”

For the next ten months, the elders became a regular fixture in the Misalucha home. Benjamin Misalucha would entertain them with stories about previous encounters with missionaries, before he fully understood who they were: “They knocked on my door and asked me if I was the head of the house. I was all hot and perspiring from doing some chores, so I told them, ‘No, I’m just the janitor here.’ It’s something I say jokingly to my family all the time, but the missionaries believed me!”

Avelina would always provide cold water or juice, cake, or even siopao (doughy, white, steamed Chinese bread stuffed with sausage and eggs). And of course, the children, who numbered five by now, would have fun teasing the missionaries and telling jokes before the serious gospel discussions began.

“I wanted answers from the Bible,” Benjamin said, “because I didn’t believe in the Book of Mormon yet. And they showed me answers in the Bible. I was totally perplexed by how they could always get answers to questions I couldn’t even answer myself.” Slowly his perplexed state gave way to understanding. The missionaries could find the answers because they knew the truth. He summoned a family council.

“Take this individually into prayer,” he told his wife and children. At the next family council, they all voted in favor of becoming Latter-day Saints. The family was baptized on April 29, 1978, a Saturday.

“Ever since we’ve been members, we’ve been blessed,” Brother Misalucha said. He began working for an insurance company, and his business has grown steadily, “in spite of the fact that some of my friends were hostile. They told me I’d return to my former church within two years. But I had found the true church, Christ’s church. Our family bonds were stronger. The children were becoming more pronounced in developing their skills, learning to speak in public and overcoming their shyness. I knew I was following the Lord’s way.”

Muneer was standing in water up to his knees, holding his father’s sailboat steady. It was the last trip of the day, and many people were boarding to go to their homes across the Nile. Muneer knew that many of them wouldn’t pay cash, and he wondered how much Father had taken in today. Probably just enough to buy food for supper tonight, he thought. I can’t possibly ask him for money to buy shoes, even if school is starting in two days. I don’t want to drop out, but I won’t go to school barefoot.
Muneer was lifting the little gangplank when he heard someone shout, “Wait!” A husky boy came sauntering down the riverbank, carrying a loud-playing transistor radio. It was Abdu, the son of the richest man in the village. He pushed his way into the boat and crowded onto the bench next to the prow. An old woman moved and sat on the floor to make room for him. He’s spoiled, thought Muneer resentfully. And he won’t pay either since children ride free.
Father sat in the back, steering with the tiller. Muneer gave the boat a push and jumped onto the prow. He unhooked a pole from the mast and pushed with it, following along close to the shore. With no wind the sail hung limply.
Father asked one of the passengers to steer, then he let himself over the edge and waded ashore. Muneer ducked into a cubbyhole at the back of the boat for a rope. Stepping onto the rail again, he almost knocked Abdu’s radio into the water. The boy turned it off and set it on the edge of the prow. He deserves to lose it, Muneer thought, tying one end of the rope to the mast and tossing the other end ashore. Father put the rope over his shoulder, dug in his toes, and slowly pulled the boat upstream to catch a swifter current.
Muneer took the pole again. Starting at the prow, he dug it into the riverbed and held it firm while he walked along the edge of the boat to the far end. Then he pulled up the pole, ran forward, and repeated the process. Every time he stepped around the radio he felt like kicking it overboard. Abdu had fallen asleep, slumped down like a sack of meal. Why should he have so much? Muneer asked himself. I could easily … He looked at his father plodding ahead, the muscles in his legs knotted. It’s not our fault we’re poor, he mused. And Abdu’s father could buy him another radio.
When Father came back and tossed him the rope, Muneer coiled it, standing with his back to the passengers. Making a quick snatch, he ducked into the cubbyhole with the rope and the radio. He hid the radio under some tackle and was out again in a few seconds to help his father row and to wait for Abdu to discover that his radio was gone.
“My transistor!” Abdu shouted when they landed. “You kicked it off!” he said pointing to Muneer.
Muneer flushed. “I did not, though I had to step around it a hundred times!”
Someone else said, “You were just careless, Abdu.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, and Muneer relaxed. Father said nothing at first but finally he spoke. “I’ll see your father tonight, Abdu.” Then Father headed for the village, and Muneer followed.
Is the radio safe? Muneer wondered. Where can I sell it? Why does Father want to see Abdu’s father?
Mother gave them bread and cheese for supper, but Muneer wasn’t hungry. When Father finished, he got up and said, “Come outside, son.” Muneer followed silently. Father sat on the bench by the door. “I’ll have to pay for the radio,” he said.
“But why, Father?”
“Because we’re honest people,” Father answered, looking at Muneer.
“Abdu’s father can buy him another!” declared Muneer. “How can you pay for it, Father?”
“A little each week.”
“Why, I can’t even get shoes for school!” Muneer exclaimed.
“That is true,” Father answered. “But we’re honest people, Muneer.”
It was quiet for a moment as the boy fought back tears. Finally, and with a shaky voice, Muneer said, “I’ll get the radio.”
Father nodded.
Father carried the radio to Abdu’s house and handed it to his father saying, “The radio was on the boat after all.” No questions were asked.
On the way home, Father said quietly, “Muneer, how would you punish your son if you were in my place?”
“Dropping out of school would hurt most,” Muneer said weakly.
“No, not that. What else?”
“Going to school … barefoot, I guess.”
Father sighed. “That would be fair. After two weeks, we might be able to buy you some sandals.”
I’ll have to go to school barefoot for two weeks, so why do I feel happy? Muneer wondered. He thought about it for a moment. Because I’m barefoot but honest, he decided. Then looking up he said, “Thank you, Father.”

Donovan Sorensen was born with muscular dystrophy, a condition where the body doesn’t produce enough protein to rebuild the muscles. He was diagnosed at age 7. “I was able to walk until I was 11,” says Donovan, “but then I became wheelchair-bound.”
It takes Donovan much longer to do normal things like getting out of bed, getting dressed, or preparing meals.
“I’ve de?nitely learned to not take things for granted,” says Donovan. “It also gives me an appreciation for others who maybe have a harder time with these things than I do.”
Donovan’s mom says, “Despite his physical limitations, he has never let his condition deter him from accomplishing anything he sets his mind to. He demonstrates amazing courage in the face of constant uncertainty. He possesses a quiet self-con?dence and is OK being di?erent.”
Donovan participated in the Scouting program.
Enjoying a Washington ferry ride!
“Well, originally a full-time proselyting mission was pretty much o? the table,” says Donovan. “And I was OK with that. I’d accepted it.”
But then Donovan and his family heard about service missions.
“We contacted our area service mission coordinator. We told him what I would be able to do,” said Donovan. “He helped me to ?nd the right opportunity. From there, he worked with my stake president and bishop to ?nish the process.”
It wasn’t long before Donovan was submitting his papers. Soon he received his call to serve a mission in the Seattle Washington Temple. He was set apart and worked in the temple ?ve days a week after that.
“At ?rst I was a little nervous. We met with the temple president and the recorder a week before I started. I was set apart as an ordinance worker, and the recorder showed me some of the things I would be doing. So that calmed my nerves a lot. And once I started, it was nothing to worry about. I’ve loved every minute of it.”
But his service doesn’t come without sacri?ce and challenges.
“Waking up is one challenge, but I just make sure I don’t go to bed too late. I’m usually able to get up pretty easily and get to the temple and do everything they need me to do.” But waking up early is just the beginning. Next it’s the bus stop, where Donovan navigates public transportation to and from the temple, traveling approximately three hours a day and sometimes more, depending on the weather.
“He doesn’t see any of it as a sacri?ce,” says his mom. “He goes, rain, snow, or shine. He doesn’t want to miss a day, because he knows people are counting on him and he knows how important his service is.”
“He knows people are counting on him and he knows how important his service is.”
“I like helping people feel welcomed,” says Donovan. “I’ve had a lot of people thank me for my service, and even though I’m doing something any other ordinance worker could do, it makes me feel good knowing that I could help make them happy.”

For more than nine years I was a pre-service trainer, meaning my job was to help find, teach, and train those who wanted to be full-time seminary teachers for the Church. One day I was sitting in the back of a classroom watching a young man teach seminary. He asked a great question. I could tell this could be a wonderful conversation with the class. A student raised his hand to answer. The answer he gave was: "I could really pray." Another student said, "We could study our scriptures." A third student replied, "I think the answer is church."

The teacher quickly said, "Enough! I don't want the 'Primary' answers. I don't want the 'Sunday School' answers. I want real answers!" To him, and to you, I suggest, those are the real answers. Just last week, Sister Lant reminded us of these things. They are salvational.

Salvational Principle 1: Say your prayersSalvational Principle 2: Read your scripturesSalvational Principle 3: Go to church

After years of inactivity, my dad announced out of the blue one day that we were going back to church again. This met with some protest from me. Throughout my childhood I knew only vaguely of the Mormon church. Basically I knew that there were rules against everything I was currently doing. Besides, what would my friends say if they found out?
Finally my dad and I agreed that I would just try it out for a while and that if I decided against it he wouldn’t force me to go. Sunday came. I sat through sacrament meeting and Sunday School as if I were deaf. Then came Young Women. I sat in the corner, arms crossed, eyes glaring. (Later I found out that I had actually scared my adviser as much as I had hoped to.) With that Sunday over I vowed never again! The following Sundays I contracted everything from a cold to tonsillitis in order to avoid going.
Although I would have denied it at the time, I felt something that Sunday. I felt something from this adviser who really seemed to care about this strange new girl in her class. I felt something, too, from an LDS schoolmate who took an interest in my spiritual well-being. Somehow she convinced me to go back to church.
Then I met our bishop, a large rancher who seemed too gentle for his intimidating stature. In my first interview with him he asked me to pray. I refused. I knew how to pray, but I couldn’t because I believed God wouldn’t listen to such a sinner. The bishop seemed to understand, although I didn’t see how he could because I was sure he had never sinned in his life. But he didn’t condemn me. He seemed to consider me of equal value to all the “saints” in our ward. Feeling so accepted, I continued to attend.
The next couple of months were filled with something I had never felt before. I came to realize that it was the Spirit of the Lord trying to tell me that everything I was hearing and feeling was true. I don’t think I had a testimony at that time. I only knew that I loved my schoolmate and her funny ideas. I loved my Young Women adviser because she loved me. I loved my bishop because he didn’t condemn me. I loved the feeling I had when I was with these people, and I wanted that always in my life.

On June 14, 1989, due to some misinformation about the Church, the government of Ghana banned all activities of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints within that African country. The government seized all Church property, and all missionary activity stopped. The members of the Church, who refer to this period as “the freeze,” did their best to live the gospel without branch meetings or the support of missionaries. There are many inspiring stories about how the members kept the light of the gospel shining by worshipping in their homes and looking after each other as home and visiting teachers.
Eventually the misunderstanding was resolved, and on November 30, 1990, the freeze ended and normal Church activities resumed.1 Since then there has been an excellent relationship between the Church and the government of Ghana.
Members who lived through the freeze are quick to point out the blessings that came from that unusual period. The faith of many was strengthened through the adversity that they faced. But one blessing of the freeze came in an unusual way.
Nicholas Ofosu-Hene was a young policeman assigned to guard an LDS meetinghouse during the freeze. His duty was to watch over the building at night. When Nicholas first arrived at the meetinghouse, he saw that things had been scattered around, with papers, books, and furniture in disarray. In the midst of this disorder, he saw a copy of the Book of Mormon. He tried ignoring the book because he had been told that it was evil. But he felt strangely attracted to it. Finally, Nicholas could ignore the book no longer. He picked it up. He felt impelled to start reading it. He read through the night, tears running down his cheeks as he read.
The first time he picked it up, he read all of 1 Nephi. The second time, he read all of 2 Nephi. When he got to 2 Nephi chapter 25, he read the following: “And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.”2
At that point, Nicholas felt the Spirit so strongly that he started sobbing. He realized that in the course of his reading he had received several spiritual promptings that this book was scripture, the most correct he had ever read. He realized that the Latter-day Saints, contrary to what he had heard, strongly believe in Jesus Christ. After the freeze ended and missionaries returned to Ghana, Nicholas, his wife, and his children joined the Church. When I saw him last year, he was a police commander and was serving as the president of the Tamale Ghana District of the Church. He says: “The Church has transformed my life. … I thank the Almighty God for leading me into this gospel.”3
Alibert Davies, another Ghanaian, accompanied a friend to one of our meetinghouses, where the friend had a presidency meeting. While he waited for his friend, Alibert read a book he found nearby. When the meeting ended, Alibert wanted to take the book home. He was given permission to take not only that book but also a copy of the Book of Mormon. When he got home, he started reading the Book of Mormon. He could not put it down. He read by candlelight until 3:00 a.m. He did that for several nights, overwhelmed by what he read and what he felt. Alibert is now a member of the Church.
Angelo Scarpulla started his theological studies in his native Italy when he was 10. He eventually became a priest and served his church with devotion. At a certain point his faith started to waver, and he sought and received opportunities for further study. The more he studied, however, the more concerned he became. What he read and felt convinced him that there had been a general apostasy from the true doctrine taught by Jesus and the early Apostles. Angelo searched for God’s true religion in various faiths but was left unsatisfied for many years.
One day he encountered two members of the Church who were helping the missionaries find more people to teach. He felt drawn to them and joyfully listened to their message. Angelo willingly accepted a copy of the Book of Mormon.
That evening he started reading the book. He felt overcome with joy. Through the Spirit, God gave Angelo an inner assurance that in the Book of Mormon he would find the truth for which he had been seeking for many years. Sweet feelings flooded through him. What he read and what he learned from the missionaries confirmed his conclusion that there had been a general apostasy, but he also learned that God’s true Church had been restored to the earth. A short while later, Angelo was baptized into the Church.4 When I first met him, he was the president of the Rimini Branch of our Church in Italy.
What Nicholas, Alibert, and Angelo experienced with the Book of Mormon is reminiscent of Parley P. Pratt’s experience:
“I opened [the book] with eagerness. … I read all day; eating was a burden, I had no desire for food; sleep was a burden when … night came, for I preferred reading to sleep.
“As I read, the spirit of the Lord was upon me, and I knew and comprehended that the book was true, as plainly and manifestly as a man comprehends and knows that he exists. My joy was now full, as it were, and I rejoiced sufficiently to more than pay me for all the sorrows, sacrifices and toils of my life.”5

Are we our brother’s keeper? Yes! Let’s look at an experience from our Church history that illustrates this great principle.
John Chislett, a subcaptain in the Willie Company, one of the pioneer handcart companies, wrote:
“We reached [Fort] Laramie about the 1st or 2nd of September, but the provisions, etc., which we expected, were not there for us. Captain Willie called a meeting to take into consideration our circumstances, conditions, and prospects, and to see what could be done. It was ascertained that at our present rate of travel and consumption of flour the latter would be exhausted when we were about three hundred and fifty miles from our destin[a]tion. It was resolved to reduce our allowance from one pound to three-quarters of a pound per day, and at the same time to make every effort in our power to travel faster. We continued this rate of rations from Laramie to Independence Rock.
“About this time Captain Willie received a letter from Apostle [Willard] Richards informing him that we might expect supplies to meet us from the valley by the time we reached South Pass. An examination of our stock of flour showed us that it would be gone before we reached that point. Our only alternative was to still further reduce our bill of fare. The issue of flour was then to average ten ounces per day. …
“We had not travelled far up the Sweetwater before the nights, which had gradually been getting colder since we left Laramie, became very severe. The mountains before us, as we approached nearer to them, revealed themselves to view mantled nearly to their base in snow, and tokens of a coming storm were discernable in the clouds which each day seemed to lower around us. …
“Our seventeen pounds of clothing and bedding was now altogether insufficient for our comfort. Nearly all suffered more or less at night from cold. Instead of getting up in the morning strong, refreshed, vigorous, and prepared for the hardships of another day of toil, the poor Saints were to be seen crawling out from their tents haggard, benumbed, and showing an utter lack of that vitality so necessary to our success.
“Cold weather, scarcity of food, lassitude and fatigue from over-exertion, soon produced their effects. Our old and infirm people began to droop, and they no sooner lost spirit and courage than death’s stamp could be traced upon their features. Life went out as smoothly as a lamp ceases to burn when the oil is gone. At first the deaths occurred slowly and irregularly, but in a few days at more frequent intervals, until we soon thought it unusual to leave a campground without burying one or more persons.
“Death was not long confined in its ravages to the old and infirm, but the young and naturally strong were among its victims. … Many a father pulled his cart, with his little children on it, until the day preceding his death. I have seen some pull their carts in the morning, give out during the day, and die before next morning. …
“We travelled on in misery and sorrow day after day. Sometimes we made a pretty good distance, but at other times we were only able to make a few miles progress. Finally we were overtaken by a snowstorm which the shrill wind blew furiously about us. …
“In the morning the snow was over a foot deep. Our cattle strayed widely during the storm, and some of them died. But what was worse to us than all this was the fact that five persons of both sexes lay in the cold embrace of death.
“The morning before the storm, or, rather, the morning of the day on which it came, we issued the last ration of flour. On this fatal morning, therefore, we had none to issue. We had, however, a barrel or two of hard bread which Captain Willie had procured at Fort Laramie in view of our destitution. This was equally and fairly divided among all the company. …
“Being surrounded by snow a foot deep, out of provisions, many of our people sick, and our cattle dying, it was decided that we should remain in our present camp until the supply train reached us. … The scanty allowance of hard bread and poor beef, distributed as described, was mostly eaten the first day by the hungry, ravenous, famished souls.
“We killed more cattle and issued the meat; but, eating it without bread, did not satisfy hunger, and to those who were suffering from dysent[e]ry it did more harm than good. This terrible disease increased rapidly amongst us during these three days, and several died from exhaustion. … The recollection of it unmans me even now—those three days! During that time I visited the sick, the widows whose husbands died in serving them, and the aged who could not help themselves, to know for myself where to dispense the few articles that had been placed in my charge for distribution. Such craving hunger I never saw before, and may God in his mercy spare me the sight again.”2
At this point a dispatch was sent to President Brigham Young from Captain Grant, who was one of the forward scouts, and this is what it said:
“It is not much use for me to attempt to give a description of the situation of these people, for this you will learn from your son Joseph A. and [Brother] Garr, who are the bearers of this express; but you can imagine between five and six hundred men, women and children, worn down by drawing handcarts through snow and mud; fainting by the wayside; falling, chilled by the cold; children crying, their limbs stiffened by cold, their feet bleeding and some of them bare to snow and frost. The sight is almost too much for the stoutest of us.”4
In Salt Lake City, at general conference on 5 October 1856, this is what President Brigham Young said:
“Many of our brethren and sisters are on the plains with handcarts, and probably many are now seven hundred miles [1,100 kilometers] from this place, and they must be brought here, we must send assistance to them. …
“I shall call upon the Bishops this day. I shall not wait until tomorrow, nor until the next day, for 60 good mule teams and 12 or 15 wagons. I do not want to send oxen. I want good horses and mules. They are in this Territory, and we must have them. Also 12 tons [11 tonnes] of flour and 40 good teamsters, besides those that drive the teams. … First, 40 good young men who know how to drive teams, to take charge of the teams that are now managed by men, women and children who know nothing about driving them. Second, 60 or 65 good spans of mules, or horses, with harness, whipple trees, neck-yokes, stretchers, lead chains, &c. And thirdly, 24 thousand pounds [11,000 kilograms] of flour, which we have on hand. …
“I will tell you all that your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will never save one soul of you in the Celestial Kingdom of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. Go and bring in those people now on the plains. And attend strictly to those things which we call temporal, or temporal duties. Otherwise, your faith will be in vain. The preaching you have heard will be in vain to you, and you will sink to Hell, unless you attend to the things we tell you.”5
In the meantime, the Willie Company had received word that a train of supplies was on the way, and Captain Willie and one other man were sent out in search of the supply train and to hasten its rescue mission to the stranded Saints. John Chislett wrote:
“On the evening of the third day (October 21) after Captain Willie’s departure, just as the sun was sinking beautifully behind the distant hills, on an eminence immediately west of our camp several covered wagons, each drawn by four horses were seen coming towards us. The news ran through the camp like wildfire, and all who were able to leave their beds turned out en masse to see them. A few minutes brought them sufficiently near to reveal our faithful captain slightly in advance of the train. Shouts of joy rent the air; strong men wept till tears ran freely down their furrowed and sun-burnt cheeks, and little children partook of the joy which some of them hardly understood, and fairly danced around with gladness. Restraint was set aside in the general rejoicing, and as the brethren entered our camp the sisters fell upon them and deluged them with kisses.”6
Now, as the sufferers got closer to the Salt Lake Valley, President Brigham Young again convened the Saints in the Tabernacle and said:
“When those persons arrive I do not want to see them put into houses by themselves; I want to have them distributed in the city among the families that have good and comfortable houses; and I wish all the sisters now before me, and all who know how and can, to nurse and wait upon the new comers and prudently administer medicine and food to them. To speak upon these things is a part of my religion, for it pertains to taking care of the Saints. …
“The afternoon meeting will be omitted, for I wish the sisters to go home and prepare to give those who have just arrived a mouthful of something to eat, and to wash them and nurse them up. You know that I would give more for a dish of pudding and milk, or a baked potato and salt, were I in the situation of those persons who have just come in, than I would for all your prayers, though you were to stay here all the afternoon and pray. Prayer is good, but when baked potatoes and pudding and milk are needed, prayer will not supply their place on this occasion; give every duty its proper time and place. …
“Some you will find with their feet frozen to their ankles; some are frozen to their knees and some have their hands frosted. … We want you to receive them as your own children, and to have the same feeling for them. We are their temporal saviors, for we have saved them from death.”7

Zebulon Jacobs, standing guard duty, witnessed one of the funniest moments to occur on the Mormon Trail. He and Henry Parker were posted outside the circled wagon train when it happened. It was a dark August night in 1861. Zeb’s diary tells the story:
“About 10 o’clock P.M. we saw a man running towards us. We hailed him and found that he belonged to Heber C. Kimball’s train, which was a short distance ahead of us. The Utah Boys had induced him to catch rabbits in Yankee fashion by building a small fire and lying down by it with an open sack for the rabbits to run into, and then hit them on the head with a club, now and then giving a low whistle; other boys going out to drive the rabbits in.”
This may be the only pioneer account ever penned of what today is called a “snipe hunt.” Zeb’s diary continues:
“All of a sudden the boys gave a yell. The man thought the Indians were upon him, and off he started at full run. He had run about a mile when we stopped him. The fellow was scared out of his wits. The cause of his scare was this, that he knew everything but Yankee tricks. We took him back to his train which was three-fourths of a mile distant. The method of catching rabbits just described was a trick.”

Mary lives in the Central region. She watched the April 2021 general conference broadcasted on television. She was really touched and felt very peaceful throughout the session. She was particularly impressed with the leadership and the testimonies shared.
The following Sunday, she looked for the Church and attended her first meeting. The missionaries met her and introduced her to the members and leaders. They taught her the lessons and she was baptized few weeks afterwards. She is so excited and boldly testifies of the truthfulness of this restored gospel.
Currently, she is engaged in family history and preparing her several family names for the temple.

September 23, 1995, was a life-changing day for me. My calling on the stake high council required that I attend the broadcast of the general Relief Society meeting. President Gordon B. Hinckley spoke, and for the first time I heard the words of “The Family: A Proclamation to the World.”
Immediately a growing brightness illuminated my mind and heart. I listened with rapt attention. I had just completed a PhD in family studies, but now I heard in five minutes more pure truth about the family than I had gleaned in nearly five years of graduate study. I wanted to stand up and applaud. As President Hinckley concluded, I felt a great desire to apply these principles in my family and share them with the world.
In the days that followed, I thought constantly about the proclamation. When the conference magazine finally came, I read the proclamation over and over again. I pondered and prayed. I wanted to so thoroughly digest its words that they would become an indelible part of my being. That’s when I felt impressed to memorize the proclamation. It would not be easy. I was in my mid-40s, and memorizing was not nearly as easy as it once had been. But again and again I felt the prompting: “Memorize the proclamation. Memorize the proclamation! MEMORIZE THE PROCLAMATION!”
I took a copy of the proclamation with me wherever I went. I memorized while shaving. I memorized while walking to the university. I memorized while exercising. The last words on my mind before retiring and the first words in my mind upon arising were the words of the proclamation. No miracle aided my memorizing, and my progress was painstakingly slow. But after about a month I could repeat the whole proclamation.
Now that I had it, I wanted to keep it. So I would recite the proclamation several times each day during morning exercise and stretching. As I did, it seemed as if the Spirit highlighted certain words or sentences. I would linger on these passages, and they, in turn, would prompt impressions that would bless my family and me.
For example, the next summer I was concerned about the friends my teenage daughter was spending so much time with. But when I tried to talk to her about the situation, she discounted what I said and became more distant. While I was jogging and thinking about the proclamation one morning, the Spirit highlighted in my thoughts the last sentence in paragraph seven: “Extended families should lend support when needed.” I slowed the pace of my jog, and an image of my younger sister came into my mind. This sister had experienced many trials in her life and was now nearly full term with her seventh pregnancy. The impression I had was that we, as extended family, should lend her support right now. So I bought a plane ticket for my daughter and asked her to spend a week serving in my sister’s home.
In this distant place an interesting thing happened. During the day my daughter found joy serving my sister’s family. And after the children were asleep, she and my sister had many long talks. My sister was able to talk to my daughter in a way that I had been unable to. She told her how decisions she had made as a teenager had produced a lifetime of challenges. When my daughter returned home, something had changed in her. She began making choices that blessed her life. My sister, her family, my daughter, and I were all blessed by this trip, which was prompted by the words of the proclamation.
Another time the words “Parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, to provide for their physical and spiritual needs” weighed heavily on my mind. Our family members loved and had a good time with each other, but I felt that we were far from our spiritual potential. The words of the proclamation inspired my wife, Juanita, and me to begin having a family testimony meeting on fast Sunday after church. Unfortunately, our first attempt did little to provide for our children’s spiritual needs. None of them really wanted to be there. Several children complained about how hungry they were, and our youngest asked several times, “When is this going to be over?” Still, we persevered, and after a few months the complaining stopped and we started feeling the Spirit more. This family testimony meeting became a precious time to share sacred truths and to help us “rear [our] children in love and righteousness.”
A pattern was emerging. As I frequently reviewed the words of the proclamation, they formed a conduit through which the Spirit could give my wife and me inspiration to move our family forward. True, most of the inspiration was not as grand as these examples. Most of it came as ideas like “Take Hannah on a daddy-daughter date,” or “Fix dinner for Juanita tonight,” or “Listen more to Emily,” or “Put Seth to bed more often.” But the hundreds of little bits of direction added up to a much better family life.
In 2001 Juanita was diagnosed with advanced breast cancer and was given a 50 percent chance for five-year survival. Our best option was to pursue an aggressive but very taxing course of chemotherapy, surgery, and radiation. We were discouraged when after eight weeks of nauseating chemo the large tumor had not shrunk at all. During this trial I went jogging and recited the proclamation as loud as I could to relieve the stress I was feeling. It comforted me.
On one jog when I got to “Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer,” I stopped. I felt a sense of peace as an impression formed in my mind. It was the Saturday morning before fast Sunday, and I felt inspired to send an e-mail to everyone I knew, inviting them to fast and pray and exercise their faith for Juanita so that the chemotherapy would be effective. We received a great outpouring of support. Even friends of other faiths described powerful experiences with fasting and prayer. Without our asking them to do so, friends in Australia, Japan, Hawaii, Salt Lake, Boston, Belgium, and South Africa put Juanita’s name on the prayer roll in their temples. The results were miraculous. Immediately our mood and our faith improved. And during the next four weeks of treatments, the tumor almost totally disappeared. Juanita finished the treatment, and no measurable cancer remained. We were so grateful! But this wasn’t the end of our trials or of the continued comfort the proclamation brought us.
In early 2004 we were devastated to learn that Juanita’s cancer had returned, this time in her lungs. In somber tones our doctor told us he would try to keep the cancer under control as long as possible, but there was now no possible cure. At first I felt betrayed and hopeless. Juanita and I had righteous desires and plans. What about the missions we were going to serve together? What about the grandchildren we were going to strengthen spiritually? How could this happen to us?
As I went through the proclamation again, this time it was as if someone turned a flashlight on to highlight the words “Children are entitled to birth within the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother.” I recognized my children were entitled to be raised by a father and a mother. This statement filled me with hope that in the face of very large medical odds Juanita would be blessed with a miracle and be healed.
We lived a fairly normal and hopeful life for about six months, but then the cancer began to take its unmistakable toll. Juanita lost weight rapidly and acquired a nearly constant and uncomfortable cough. Even the smallest exertion left her struggling for breath. Things seemed always to get worse and never better. Soon it became apparent that it was not God’s will for Juanita to live very much longer. I was at a complete loss to explain why God had not stepped forward with the miracle we so badly needed and so sincerely hoped for. But then again the words of the proclamation provided inspiration and comfort: “Sacred ordinances and covenants available in holy temples make it possible for individuals to return to the presence of God and for families to be united eternally.” Through many tears my understanding was enlarged to see that Juanita would indeed receive a miraculous healing. Because of the plan of salvation, Juanita would pass from this life into a beautiful place to be greeted by her father, our daughter who had passed away, and the Savior. Because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, Juanita would be healed and at the Resurrection receive a perfect body, free from cancer and any other illness. I could also see that through all eternity our children would have access to her influence as their mother—another miracle.
I also felt impressed that there was much we could yet do in this life to give the children continued access to her wisdom. I received a clear impression that it was time for us to stop focusing our faith on a physical miracle that was not in keeping with God’s will and focus instead on learning as much as we could from Juanita in the short time we had left. We needed to be better prepared “to return to the presence of God and for [our family] to be united eternally.” In our family testimony meeting we expressed these feelings poignantly, and their truth washed over us all. Then we went to work.
Juanita wrote her testimony of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and I wrote mine as well. We printed and laminated them along with our pictures in a size that would fit in the children’s scriptures. Juanita then wrote long letters in her own hand to each of the children, expressing appreciation and offering words of encouragement and advice. We recorded Juanita’s sweet voice singing hymns, Primary songs, and childhood lullabies and made CDs for each of the children and for future grandchildren. We also recorded messages to be listened to on special occasions such as going to the temple, leaving on a mission, getting married, giving birth to a child. Juanita crocheted baby blankets and bibs for future grandchildren. Our lives now became focused, full of activity, and we received great comfort from the Spirit. All this came as a result of inspiration from the proclamation.
All of our children were at Juanita’s side when she died, and each had the opportunity to share tender communication with her. She was alert and talked to us until about 10 minutes before she passed away. That’s when I told her, “I love you,” and she responded in Spanish, “Lo mismo,” which means “Same to you.” Those were her last words. Her passing was sweet.
I have marveled at the numerous specific and personal ways the proclamation has blessed me and my family since that Saturday night more than a decade ago when I first heard it. It has changed our lives forever. It is the word of God, and it can be the basis for great joy and happiness in family life, even in the midst of unfathomable trials. I know by the Spirit that “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” is an inspired document for families today, and if seriously studied, it will open the windows of divine assistance for our families.