Two summers ago I heard someone talk about missionary work for those who aren’t serving a full-time mission. The speaker told us how important members of the Church are for the Churchwide missionary effort. He asked us to make a focused effort to help the missionaries in our wards by bringing a friend to Church activities and Sunday meetings. I decided that I would pray for missionary opportunities and make an effort to act on the promptings I would be given.
I started my first week of school and met a new guy named Chris, who had moved from across town. Chris was really cool and we soon became friends. One day I invited him to a combined youth activity at a corn maze. On the drive to the corn maze, Chris started asking questions about the Church. As I answered his questions, he asked me how I knew so much. I told him that we learn about the gospel in Church meetings and in seminary. To my surprise, Chris asked when seminary was. I told him it was every morning at six. I thought for sure that he would not be interested in waking up that early, but he surprised me again by asking me to pick him up on my way there.
Chris began attending seminary and church. He also started to meet with the missionaries. And a year later he was baptized. I had the opportunity to baptize Chris, and it was an amazing experience that I will never forget. I believe this would not have happened if I had not prayed for missionary opportunities. Heavenly Father knows each of us, and He helps us if we ask for it.
Describe what you're looking for in natural language and our AI will find the perfect stories for you.
Can't decide what to read? Let us pick a story at random from our entire collection.
From Corn Maze to Conversion
Summary: After hearing a talk about member missionary work, a youth prayed for opportunities and befriended a new student named Chris. He invited Chris to a youth activity, answered his questions, and picked him up for early-morning seminary. Chris began attending church, met with the missionaries, and was baptized a year later by the narrator, who attributes the experience to praying for opportunities.
Read more →
👤 Missionaries
👤 Youth
👤 Friends
Baptism
Conversion
Faith
Friendship
Missionary Work
Prayer
Revelation
Teaching the Gospel
Young Men
See Others as They May Become
Summary: At a 1961 mission presidents conference, N. Eldon Tanner recounted interviewing an exceptionally successful missionary. The missionary said he found converts through tracting and envisioned each person as a future baptized member. This perspective empowered him to testify effectively and touch hearts.
Back in the year 1961, a worldwide conference was held for mission presidents, and every mission president in the Church was brought to Salt Lake City for those meetings. I came to Salt Lake City from my mission in Toronto, Canada.
In one particular meeting, N. Eldon Tanner, who was then an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve, had just returned from his initial experience of presiding over the missions in Great Britain and western Europe. He told of a missionary who had been the most successful missionary whom he had met in all of the interviews he had conducted. He said that as he interviewed that missionary, he said to him, “I suppose that all of the people whom you baptized came into the Church by way of referrals.”
The young man answered, “No, we found them all by tracting.”
Brother Tanner asked him what was different about his approach—why he had such phenomenal success when others didn’t. The young man said that he attempted to baptize every person whom he met. He said that if he knocked on the door and saw a man smoking a cigar and dressed in old clothes and seemingly uninterested in anything—particularly religion—the missionary would picture in his own mind what that man would look like under a different set of circumstances. In his mind he would look at him as clean-shaven and wearing a white shirt and white trousers. And the missionary could see himself leading that man into the waters of baptism. He said, “When I look at someone that way, I have the capacity to bear my testimony to him in a way that can touch his heart.”
In one particular meeting, N. Eldon Tanner, who was then an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve, had just returned from his initial experience of presiding over the missions in Great Britain and western Europe. He told of a missionary who had been the most successful missionary whom he had met in all of the interviews he had conducted. He said that as he interviewed that missionary, he said to him, “I suppose that all of the people whom you baptized came into the Church by way of referrals.”
The young man answered, “No, we found them all by tracting.”
Brother Tanner asked him what was different about his approach—why he had such phenomenal success when others didn’t. The young man said that he attempted to baptize every person whom he met. He said that if he knocked on the door and saw a man smoking a cigar and dressed in old clothes and seemingly uninterested in anything—particularly religion—the missionary would picture in his own mind what that man would look like under a different set of circumstances. In his mind he would look at him as clean-shaven and wearing a white shirt and white trousers. And the missionary could see himself leading that man into the waters of baptism. He said, “When I look at someone that way, I have the capacity to bear my testimony to him in a way that can touch his heart.”
Read more →
👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Missionaries
Baptism
Conversion
Judging Others
Missionary Work
Testimony
Profiles of Faith
Summary: A missionary learning German at the MTC saw a picture of a house in Rothenburg on his grammar book and resolved to visit and teach whoever lived there. He later found the house, taught Helma Hahn, and baptized her; she now shares her testimony with visiting tourists.
For a second profile, I turn from Mexico to a missionary at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, desperately struggling to become proficient in the German language, that he might be an effective missionary to the people of southern Germany. Each day as he opened his German grammar text, he noticed with interest and curiosity that the front cover displayed a picture of a most quaint and ancient house in Rothenburg, West Germany. Beneath the picture, the location was given. In his heart that young man determined, “I’ll visit that house and teach the truth to whoever lives within it.” This he did. The result was the conversion and baptism of Sister Helma Hahn. Today she devotes much of her time speaking to tourists who come from all over the world to see her house. She delights in telling them of the blessings which the gospel of Jesus Christ has brought to her. Her house is perhaps one of the most frequently photographed houses in the entire world. No visitor leaves without hearing in simple yet earnest words her testimony of praise and gratitude. That missionary who brought to Sister Hahn the gospel remembered the sacred charge: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost” (Matt. 28:19).
Read more →
👤 Missionaries
👤 Church Members (General)
Baptism
Conversion
Gratitude
Missionary Work
Teaching the Gospel
Testimony
Rising Fawn Speaks
Summary: Rising Fawn, a Native girl, secretly helps a struggling settler family and befriends their eldest daughter, Melissa. After the mother dies, Rising Fawn offers to have her aunt nurse the newborn, but the grieving father angrily refuses. Melissa courageously confronts her father, who later comes to the village, apologizes, and entrusts the baby to Rising Fawn’s family. The act of service and humility bridges prejudice, building friendship between the families.
Rising Fawn heard the big man’s prayer before she reached the clearing where Melissa, her white friend, lived. “Oh, no!” the Indian girl whispered, as she saw the little group gathered around an open grave. It looked like an ugly scar in the glistening snow.
Who died? Rising Fawn wondered. She stayed hidden in the pine trees and quickly ran her eyes over each member of the family. The mother was missing! And Melissa was holding a tiny, wailing bundle. The blond girl wiped away her own tears and reached down to comfort a small sister. The other children clung together, tearstained and bewildered, as their frozen-faced father began to fill in the lonely grave. His steamy breath spiraled into the cold air as he worked.
Rising Fawn retreated to the riverbank. The grief of the white family was her own. She had hidden and watched them from the first day their clumsy covered wagon creaked into Elk Valley. That they had come to stay was evident. The parents had immediately set about cutting trees and building a cabin. How hard they worked! Even the smallest of the seven blond children helped to gather stones from the river for the chimney and fireplace, and that was how Rising Fawn met Melissa. When the children were called away for meals or to help with other things, the Indian girl selected and piled up stones to help them.
It was Melissa, the eldest, who had slipped back to the river to spy on their mysterious helper. Rising Fawn remembered how frightened the girl had looked when she found herself confronting an Indian! Rising Fawn smiled and pointed to the pile of stones—her gift to the hardworking white children.
She and Melissa had been secret friends throughout the summer and fall, and now it was winter. Gradually the girls had learned to communicate, although neither spoke the other’s language.
Rising Fawn understood why she was never invited to visit the cabin by the way Melissa started, face flushing with guilt, when she was called by her parents. Usually Melissa ran away quickly and often without even a good-bye wave. Such actions told Rising Fawn that the parents either feared or disliked Indians, so Melissa could not tell them about her friend.
It made Rising Fawn sad to think that white people so readily believed all the evil things they had heard about Indians before moving west. Hers was a peaceful tribe. Her heart held only friendship for the new white settlers.
Melissa had not come to the river since the first snow fell, and the Indian girl missed her. The family’s clothing was not right for such frigid weather. They wore no furs or pelts. Perhaps that was why she no longer saw her friend.
Rising Fawn and her brother made a pair of snowshoes for Melissa. She, her mother, and an aunt also made nine pairs of skin mittens for the white family, laced together with the rabbit fur inside for added warmth. Long before dawn the Indian girl slipped up to the cabin door and left the gifts and a large packet of venison. She waited many afternoons but Melissa had never used the snowshoes to come to their meeting place by the river.
The Indian girl came as often as she could, through light snows or blizzards, to leave some meat or a few smoked fish at the cabin door when her family had enough to share. But she always hurried away, for Rising Fawn was afraid of the bearded white giant of a man who seemed to dislike Indians.
Rising Fawn swept snow from a log and sank down to consider the calamity that had befallen her friend. Melissa would have to be the mother of the family now. It was an awesome job for a young girl. Pioneer life was difficult, even for strong women. I will help Melissa! I will even if her father forbids it! the Indian girl vowed, tears slipping down dusky cheeks.
But the baby! How can it live without its mother? she worried. The family had no cattle—not even one cow—only the pair of oxen. Rising Fawn arose and walked back toward the cabin, her snowshoes leaving webbed tracks.
Smoke curled from the chimney, but there was no sign of the children. Rising Fawn shrank back behind a pine tree and watched the father pick up his axe and head into the forest. He looked dazed. Cords of wood were stacked by the door. Rising Fawn’s face softened with understanding. They needed no firewood. The man’s need was to be alone with his grief. Working with the axe would help.
The girl’s heart hammered as she removed her snowshoes and knocked on the cabin door. Would Melissa be afraid? How long would her father be gone? Melissa was working at the fireplace, her back to the room, when a small boy opened the door. Rising Fawn stepped inside and closed it. Melissa turned and dropped a ladle when she saw her. How thin and pale the white girl was! Melissa stared at her friend, then ran to her, weeping.
The Indian girl clasped her close for a moment. Then she gently pushed her away, still holding her hands. They had very little time. With signs, Rising Fawn told Melissa that she had watched her mother’s burial. She pointed at the baby and explained that her aunt, a new mother, who was young and strong, could easily feed both babies until the child was old enough to eat soft foods. Could she, Rising Fawn, take the child to her village?
Melissa’s tearstained face brightened with hope, then her shoulders slumped. Her father considered all Indians to be unfeeling savages. He would never allow it. And if he did not, this small new brother would not live and grow old enough to run, laugh, and play. Her mother would have died for nothing!
Both girls froze as the door crashed open and the father stormed in. His face was flushed with anger. He had followed Rising Fawn’s tracks back to the cabin. The children huddled together, big-eyed, as their father lashed out at their older sister. Rising Fawn felt sick. She had caused her friend added grief. Her face was expressionless, but her eyes reflected scorn for this man who would allow his child to die because of prejudice. The insults she couldn’t understand didn’t matter. Proudly, she held herself as tall as possible, her black eyes fastened on the man’s blazing blue ones. The silence that followed his angry words seemed to hold everything in suspension. Rising Fawn tried not to hear the infant’s weak and hungry wails as she left.
It was dusk when Rising Fawn heard the shout that a white man was approaching the village. She was glad that it was Brown Fox who entered her mother’s hogan with Melissa’s father carrying the baby! Brown Fox spoke English. The girl laid aside the moccasin she was beading and stood to listen as Brown Fox spoke the white man’s words.
“He says that his daughter, who is now the only mother his children have, was very angry with him after you left. For the first time he has seen that her temper matches his own.” Brown Fox translated further, “She reminded him of the food that has been left at their door when they had no meat. She said that she would not permit the baby her mother died giving birth to, to die also and that she would bring it here herself to be nursed by an Indian mother, if he did not have the courage and good sense to do so himself.”
Brown Fox waited patiently as the shamefaced father continued slowly. “He says he has been a very foolish man and that his daughter is wiser than he. He asks you to forgive him and to take his son to your aunt until he is older. You and your people are welcome at his cabin. If we need his help or his oxen, he will gladly oblige us. He wants to be a friend and neighbor.”
Rising Fawn smiled and took the tiny bundle the white man was holding so awkwardly. She cradled it in her arms and laid her cheek against the baby’s blond hair. “Tell Melissa’s father that we will care for his child as for one of our own. He brings us a weak, motherless infant. We will return a strong and healthy son to him. Tell him that Rising Fawn speaks these words: We have always been his friends—and now he is ours.”
Who died? Rising Fawn wondered. She stayed hidden in the pine trees and quickly ran her eyes over each member of the family. The mother was missing! And Melissa was holding a tiny, wailing bundle. The blond girl wiped away her own tears and reached down to comfort a small sister. The other children clung together, tearstained and bewildered, as their frozen-faced father began to fill in the lonely grave. His steamy breath spiraled into the cold air as he worked.
Rising Fawn retreated to the riverbank. The grief of the white family was her own. She had hidden and watched them from the first day their clumsy covered wagon creaked into Elk Valley. That they had come to stay was evident. The parents had immediately set about cutting trees and building a cabin. How hard they worked! Even the smallest of the seven blond children helped to gather stones from the river for the chimney and fireplace, and that was how Rising Fawn met Melissa. When the children were called away for meals or to help with other things, the Indian girl selected and piled up stones to help them.
It was Melissa, the eldest, who had slipped back to the river to spy on their mysterious helper. Rising Fawn remembered how frightened the girl had looked when she found herself confronting an Indian! Rising Fawn smiled and pointed to the pile of stones—her gift to the hardworking white children.
She and Melissa had been secret friends throughout the summer and fall, and now it was winter. Gradually the girls had learned to communicate, although neither spoke the other’s language.
Rising Fawn understood why she was never invited to visit the cabin by the way Melissa started, face flushing with guilt, when she was called by her parents. Usually Melissa ran away quickly and often without even a good-bye wave. Such actions told Rising Fawn that the parents either feared or disliked Indians, so Melissa could not tell them about her friend.
It made Rising Fawn sad to think that white people so readily believed all the evil things they had heard about Indians before moving west. Hers was a peaceful tribe. Her heart held only friendship for the new white settlers.
Melissa had not come to the river since the first snow fell, and the Indian girl missed her. The family’s clothing was not right for such frigid weather. They wore no furs or pelts. Perhaps that was why she no longer saw her friend.
Rising Fawn and her brother made a pair of snowshoes for Melissa. She, her mother, and an aunt also made nine pairs of skin mittens for the white family, laced together with the rabbit fur inside for added warmth. Long before dawn the Indian girl slipped up to the cabin door and left the gifts and a large packet of venison. She waited many afternoons but Melissa had never used the snowshoes to come to their meeting place by the river.
The Indian girl came as often as she could, through light snows or blizzards, to leave some meat or a few smoked fish at the cabin door when her family had enough to share. But she always hurried away, for Rising Fawn was afraid of the bearded white giant of a man who seemed to dislike Indians.
Rising Fawn swept snow from a log and sank down to consider the calamity that had befallen her friend. Melissa would have to be the mother of the family now. It was an awesome job for a young girl. Pioneer life was difficult, even for strong women. I will help Melissa! I will even if her father forbids it! the Indian girl vowed, tears slipping down dusky cheeks.
But the baby! How can it live without its mother? she worried. The family had no cattle—not even one cow—only the pair of oxen. Rising Fawn arose and walked back toward the cabin, her snowshoes leaving webbed tracks.
Smoke curled from the chimney, but there was no sign of the children. Rising Fawn shrank back behind a pine tree and watched the father pick up his axe and head into the forest. He looked dazed. Cords of wood were stacked by the door. Rising Fawn’s face softened with understanding. They needed no firewood. The man’s need was to be alone with his grief. Working with the axe would help.
The girl’s heart hammered as she removed her snowshoes and knocked on the cabin door. Would Melissa be afraid? How long would her father be gone? Melissa was working at the fireplace, her back to the room, when a small boy opened the door. Rising Fawn stepped inside and closed it. Melissa turned and dropped a ladle when she saw her. How thin and pale the white girl was! Melissa stared at her friend, then ran to her, weeping.
The Indian girl clasped her close for a moment. Then she gently pushed her away, still holding her hands. They had very little time. With signs, Rising Fawn told Melissa that she had watched her mother’s burial. She pointed at the baby and explained that her aunt, a new mother, who was young and strong, could easily feed both babies until the child was old enough to eat soft foods. Could she, Rising Fawn, take the child to her village?
Melissa’s tearstained face brightened with hope, then her shoulders slumped. Her father considered all Indians to be unfeeling savages. He would never allow it. And if he did not, this small new brother would not live and grow old enough to run, laugh, and play. Her mother would have died for nothing!
Both girls froze as the door crashed open and the father stormed in. His face was flushed with anger. He had followed Rising Fawn’s tracks back to the cabin. The children huddled together, big-eyed, as their father lashed out at their older sister. Rising Fawn felt sick. She had caused her friend added grief. Her face was expressionless, but her eyes reflected scorn for this man who would allow his child to die because of prejudice. The insults she couldn’t understand didn’t matter. Proudly, she held herself as tall as possible, her black eyes fastened on the man’s blazing blue ones. The silence that followed his angry words seemed to hold everything in suspension. Rising Fawn tried not to hear the infant’s weak and hungry wails as she left.
It was dusk when Rising Fawn heard the shout that a white man was approaching the village. She was glad that it was Brown Fox who entered her mother’s hogan with Melissa’s father carrying the baby! Brown Fox spoke English. The girl laid aside the moccasin she was beading and stood to listen as Brown Fox spoke the white man’s words.
“He says that his daughter, who is now the only mother his children have, was very angry with him after you left. For the first time he has seen that her temper matches his own.” Brown Fox translated further, “She reminded him of the food that has been left at their door when they had no meat. She said that she would not permit the baby her mother died giving birth to, to die also and that she would bring it here herself to be nursed by an Indian mother, if he did not have the courage and good sense to do so himself.”
Brown Fox waited patiently as the shamefaced father continued slowly. “He says he has been a very foolish man and that his daughter is wiser than he. He asks you to forgive him and to take his son to your aunt until he is older. You and your people are welcome at his cabin. If we need his help or his oxen, he will gladly oblige us. He wants to be a friend and neighbor.”
Rising Fawn smiled and took the tiny bundle the white man was holding so awkwardly. She cradled it in her arms and laid her cheek against the baby’s blond hair. “Tell Melissa’s father that we will care for his child as for one of our own. He brings us a weak, motherless infant. We will return a strong and healthy son to him. Tell him that Rising Fawn speaks these words: We have always been his friends—and now he is ours.”
Read more →
👤 Pioneers
👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Friends
👤 Other
Death
Family
Forgiveness
Friendship
Grief
Racial and Cultural Prejudice
Service
The Sunbeam
Summary: Heather learns she will move from nursery to the Sunbeam class and happily practices the class song all week. When Sunday comes, she feels scared and doesn't want to go. Her mother reminds her who wants her to be a Sunbeam, and Heather decides to go because Jesus wants her to be a Sunbeam.
When Heather’s mommy came to get her after nursery, she told Heather she had a surprise for her. “Next Sunday you’re not going to be in the nursery. You’re going to be a Sunbeam in Primary,” said Mommy.
“What’s a Sunbeam?” asked Heather.
“Sunbeam is the name of your new class. It has a class song, “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam.” That means that He wants you to make the world brighter by being cheerful and kind,” said Mommy.
Heather’s mommy taught her the Sunbeam song, and Heather was very happy that she was going to be a Sunbeam.
All during the week Heather thought about being a Sunbeam. She sang the Sunbeam song while she swung on her swing. She sang it to her baby sister and even to her two cats. By the time Sunday came, Heather knew the Sunbeam song by heart.
But when sacrament meeting had ended and Mommy was taking her to her class, Heather looked very sad. “I don’t want to go to Sunbeams.”
“Why not, Heather?” asked Mommy.
“Because I’m scared.”
“Heather, think of Who wants you to be a Sunbeam.”
Heather thought for a moment. She thought about how excited Mommy and Daddy were that she was going to be a Sunbeam. She thought about her baby sister and her two cats. They had liked it when she’d sung the Sunbeam song to them. Then she thought about the words to the song, and she smiled.
“I’ll go to Sunbeams, Mommy, because Jesus wants me to be a Sunbeam.”
“What’s a Sunbeam?” asked Heather.
“Sunbeam is the name of your new class. It has a class song, “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam.” That means that He wants you to make the world brighter by being cheerful and kind,” said Mommy.
Heather’s mommy taught her the Sunbeam song, and Heather was very happy that she was going to be a Sunbeam.
All during the week Heather thought about being a Sunbeam. She sang the Sunbeam song while she swung on her swing. She sang it to her baby sister and even to her two cats. By the time Sunday came, Heather knew the Sunbeam song by heart.
But when sacrament meeting had ended and Mommy was taking her to her class, Heather looked very sad. “I don’t want to go to Sunbeams.”
“Why not, Heather?” asked Mommy.
“Because I’m scared.”
“Heather, think of Who wants you to be a Sunbeam.”
Heather thought for a moment. She thought about how excited Mommy and Daddy were that she was going to be a Sunbeam. She thought about her baby sister and her two cats. They had liked it when she’d sung the Sunbeam song to them. Then she thought about the words to the song, and she smiled.
“I’ll go to Sunbeams, Mommy, because Jesus wants me to be a Sunbeam.”
Read more →
👤 Jesus Christ
👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Other
Children
Courage
Jesus Christ
Music
Sacrament Meeting
The Justice and Mercy of God
Summary: The author attends a Bible study graduation at the Utah State Prison, observing inmates offering heartfelt prayers and a released inmate returning to encourage others. The inmate conductor calls the event their most auspicious occasion because enlightenment feels like freedom. After leaving, the author is deeply moved and lies awake, reflecting on imprisonment, freedom, and the transforming power of enlightenment and love.
It was unlike any other commencement or baccalaureate exercise I had ever attended or in which I had ever participated. There were 44 graduates, all male. They did not have traditional academic robes or caps or gowns. Each man wore a light blue denim shirt and dark blue denim trousers.
The ceremony was not held in a field house or a stadium or even a lovely auditorium. It was held in a modest interdenominational chapel at the Utah State Prison. The graduating class had successfully completed a year’s course of Bible study, which was sponsored by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints but open to all who cared to participate.
The opening prayer was given by a young man who looked more like a mere boy. He was frightened to death, but he gave a prayer from his heart. He was in prison for 10 years to life on an armed robbery charge. The closing prayer was given by a man who was 45 or 50 years old and who looked as if he could have been somebody’s uncle. He was in for a life term on second-degree murder.
A young man who had been released from prison had come back to get his certificate and to encourage his colleagues. He said, “Guys, the perspective in prison is really bad. It really looks better on the outside. Try to remember that.” Then he turned to the outsiders, to the friends and families who had come, and said, “You people are a light in a dark place. If it were not for love like yours, we would not be able to get from where we are to where we need to be.”
When the service was over, the inmate who conducted said, with some emotion in his voice and a little mist in his eyes, “This is the most auspicious occasion of our year. It’s better than Christmas. It’s better than Thanksgiving. It’s even better than Mother’s Day. It’s better because we’re enlightened, and that’s as close as we come to being free.”
Then the gates clanged shut behind my wife and me. That night we went home, and I confess I couldn’t sleep. That experience haunted me. In the early hours of that morning, I had feelings and thoughts and a response to imprisonment and freedom (and their relationship to enlightenment and love) that I never had before.
The ceremony was not held in a field house or a stadium or even a lovely auditorium. It was held in a modest interdenominational chapel at the Utah State Prison. The graduating class had successfully completed a year’s course of Bible study, which was sponsored by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints but open to all who cared to participate.
The opening prayer was given by a young man who looked more like a mere boy. He was frightened to death, but he gave a prayer from his heart. He was in prison for 10 years to life on an armed robbery charge. The closing prayer was given by a man who was 45 or 50 years old and who looked as if he could have been somebody’s uncle. He was in for a life term on second-degree murder.
A young man who had been released from prison had come back to get his certificate and to encourage his colleagues. He said, “Guys, the perspective in prison is really bad. It really looks better on the outside. Try to remember that.” Then he turned to the outsiders, to the friends and families who had come, and said, “You people are a light in a dark place. If it were not for love like yours, we would not be able to get from where we are to where we need to be.”
When the service was over, the inmate who conducted said, with some emotion in his voice and a little mist in his eyes, “This is the most auspicious occasion of our year. It’s better than Christmas. It’s better than Thanksgiving. It’s even better than Mother’s Day. It’s better because we’re enlightened, and that’s as close as we come to being free.”
Then the gates clanged shut behind my wife and me. That night we went home, and I confess I couldn’t sleep. That experience haunted me. In the early hours of that morning, I had feelings and thoughts and a response to imprisonment and freedom (and their relationship to enlightenment and love) that I never had before.
Read more →
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Adversity
Bible
Charity
Family
Love
Prayer
Prison Ministry
The Broken Frame
Summary: Erica asks her dad about a picture of Jesus and its broken frame. Dad explains that Oma received the painting when she left home to be a nurse, it fell and broke, and she later gave it to him. He keeps the frame broken as a reminder that Jesus Christ helps us when we feel hurt or broken. Erica feels comforted knowing the Lord cares for her family.
Erica walked into her parents’ room and looked at the picture on the wall. It was a picture of Jesus Christ. She had seen it many times before, but this time she noticed something.
“Hey, Dad? Where did this picture come from? And why is the frame broken?”
Dad looked up from making the bed. “That picture was Oma’s.”
Oma was her grandma who lived in Holland. Erica liked to hear Dad tell stories about her life.
Dad sat on the bed next to Erica. “When Oma grew up and left home to be a nurse, her mother gave her this painting,” he said. “She hung it up in her room. One day it fell off the wall, and the corner broke. She wasn’t able to fix it, and it’s been broken ever since. Then when I grew up and moved away from home, Oma gave it to me.”
Erica asked, “Why haven’t you fixed it?”
“I could fix it,” Dad said. “But it’s a good reminder. It helps me remember that even though we might sometimes feel hurt or broken, Jesus Christ can help us. And it reminds me that He knows and loves our family.”
Erica felt warm inside as she looked up at the picture again. It felt good to know that the Lord cared for her family.
“Hey, Dad? Where did this picture come from? And why is the frame broken?”
Dad looked up from making the bed. “That picture was Oma’s.”
Oma was her grandma who lived in Holland. Erica liked to hear Dad tell stories about her life.
Dad sat on the bed next to Erica. “When Oma grew up and left home to be a nurse, her mother gave her this painting,” he said. “She hung it up in her room. One day it fell off the wall, and the corner broke. She wasn’t able to fix it, and it’s been broken ever since. Then when I grew up and moved away from home, Oma gave it to me.”
Erica asked, “Why haven’t you fixed it?”
“I could fix it,” Dad said. “But it’s a good reminder. It helps me remember that even though we might sometimes feel hurt or broken, Jesus Christ can help us. And it reminds me that He knows and loves our family.”
Erica felt warm inside as she looked up at the picture again. It felt good to know that the Lord cared for her family.
Read more →
👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Other
Atonement of Jesus Christ
Children
Family
Jesus Christ
Love
Friend to Friend
Summary: As a little boy in Provo, Henry frequently visited his grandmother, who usually offered him treats. One day he reached into the cracker box without waiting to be offered and snapped a hidden mousetrap on his hand. The incident became one of his earliest memories.
When Elder Henry D. Taylor was a little boy living in Provo, Utah, he often walked across the lane from his home to his grandmother’s house. Whenever he visited her, she would offer him crackers, raisins, or other delicacies. “One day, however,” Elder Taylor recounts, “without waiting to be offered a treat, I reached into the box where the crackers were stored and, much to my amazement and anguish, put my hand into a mousetrap that had been set. This remains as one of my earliest recollections.”
Read more →
👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Other
Agency and Accountability
Children
Temptation
Crawford P. Jones Is More Than Okay
Summary: Urged to join the church junior basketball team, Crawford’s first game goes disastrously with four fouls in 30 seconds and a crash to the floor. In the foyer, he confides he feels like a failure who doesn’t fit in. His adviser reassures him that by doing what’s right, he will find his place.
On the surface, it was easy. Crawford attended all his meetings. Not once did he clown around in class. He had all the right answers to the questions. He pursued Varsity Scouting with the doggedness of a marathon runner. And he got along well enough with the other teachers. But he didn’t really pal around with them.
With me, he was polite, but distant. I knew something wasn’t right, but I still had to find out what. Sister Jones’s words about hoping he’d find friends kept ringing in my ears.
The first break came during priesthood meeting. There was an announcement about the junior basketball team beginning practice. Crawford was by far the tallest boy in the stake. It seemed like a natural. I pulled him aside after the lesson.
“You’re going to play, aren’t you?”
“I’m awfully busy.” He hesitated. “And despite my stature, I’m not athletically inclined.”
“Are you kidding? With your height, just stand under the basket with your arms out. That’s how Bill Russell got started.”
“Bill who?”
“Never mind. Just look menacing. Go ahead, you can do it.”
He twisted his face into what was supposed to be a scowl. It looked more like a smirk.
“More teeth. Give me some teeth.”
He pulled his lips back a bit.
“Now a growl. Mean and low.”
Crawford obediently growled.
“Okay, we’ll work on it. Let me call Todd Bowers. He’s the coach. He’ll make sure you get to practice.”
“Well …”
“You can do it, Crawford. At least try.”
“All right. Maybe I have some undiscovered native ability.”
Nothing more was said about basketball until several weeks later, when Crawford called one evening.
“Our first game is tomorrow night. I expect you’ll attend.” There was a twinge of excitement.
“Oh … well, I expect I will.”
“Terrific. Simply terrific. I will not let you down.”
So I went to the game the following night. How do I explain the way it went? Easy. It was a nightmare.
Crawford was selected to jump for the tip-off. He was so eager to get the ball that when the referee tossed it up, he lunged in and knocked over the opposing player. Whistle. Foul. One second had ticked off the clock.
The other team took the ball out of bounds. One of the players took a pass, drove to the basket, and put up a shot. Crawford blocked it with a wild swoop of his arm. That was the good part.
The bad part was that he almost knocked the player’s head off in the process. Whistle. Foul. We were now 20 seconds into the game.
The fouled player made his first free throw but missed the second. Up went Crawford for the rebound—up and over another player. Whistle. Foul. Our ward called a time-out.
I watched Crawford during the time-out. His eyes were brimming with determination. He wanted to atone for his mistakes, and I got the feeling, he wanted to do it all at once. I hoped Todd would pull him and let him regain some composure. Instead Crawford trotted back onto the court.
Our team had the ball. Crawford took a pass at the top of the key. He turned toward the basket, pulled his lips back, and growled. I sensed disaster.
Before I could mumble, “No, don’t do it,” he put his head down and like a bull, battered his way toward the basket. One of those huge feet got tangled with the other, and Crawford was airborne. Three innocent players were in his path. I cringed and closed my eyes. Then came a crash and four distinct thuds as the bodies dropped to the floor. I opened my eyes slowly and wondered if I should call the paramedics.
Four young men were sprawled on the floor, a tangled heap of arms, legs, and dazed looks. Fortunately, no one was hurt, although Crawford seemed a little confused about which planet he was on.
And yes, there was a whistle and a foul on Crawford. Four fouls in 30 seconds. It must have been some kind of a record.
Todd motioned for me to come onto the floor.
“Crawford’s a little woozy. Will you keep an eye on him?”
“Sure.”
Crawford was sitting up now, holding his head with his hands.
“C’mon, Crawford. Let’s take you some place to rest.”
I helped him to his feet and he groggily followed me out the door. He slumped onto a couch in the foyer.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, looking up. “You’re Brother North.”
“Good. And who are you?”
“A failure.”
“That’s not true.”
“I let you down. I let everyone down.”
“You did not. That was the most memorable half-minute of basketball I’ve ever seen.”
He turned and stared out the window. He didn’t say a word for a couple of minutes. Finally, I moved to where I could see his face.
A thin line of tears ran down his cheeks.
“It is so difficult,” he said quietly. “I try. I really try. But I don’t seem to fit anywhere. Where do I belong, Brother North?”
I wasn’t sure what to say, other than I knew I had to begin with the truth. Crawford deserved that much.
“I’m not sure. But I do know this, Crawford. You will find your place someday. Just keep doing what’s right, and it will happen.”
He shifted a little on the couch. “I hope you’re right.”
“Hey, I’m the one you called astute, remember? Has that changed?”
“No.”
“You’ll have some rough spots, Crawford. Everyone does, especially while they’re growing. But you’ll be okay. More than okay. You’re a good person. You know who you are and where your roots are. Right there you have an advantage over most people.”
“But it doesn’t seem fair. If I have advantages, why isn’t it easier?”
“Life isn’t always easy.” I winced when I said it. More than most people, Crawford already knew that. From the time his father died and he started washing cars, Crawford knew it wouldn’t be simple and comfortable. Still, I wanted him to look at what he had, not what he didn’t have.
“A lot of blessings have already come to you. There will be more. Sometimes blessings are so close that we don’t recognize them.”
He rubbed his hand over the back of his head.
“Yes, I believe you are correct on that point. I have a terrific mother, three beautiful sisters, and I’m a member of the Church. And I have a great friend in you.”
“And I have a great friend in you. Now, do you want to get back in the game? You still have one foul left to burn.”
He said his head was still throbbing, so I helped him to my car and drove him home.
With me, he was polite, but distant. I knew something wasn’t right, but I still had to find out what. Sister Jones’s words about hoping he’d find friends kept ringing in my ears.
The first break came during priesthood meeting. There was an announcement about the junior basketball team beginning practice. Crawford was by far the tallest boy in the stake. It seemed like a natural. I pulled him aside after the lesson.
“You’re going to play, aren’t you?”
“I’m awfully busy.” He hesitated. “And despite my stature, I’m not athletically inclined.”
“Are you kidding? With your height, just stand under the basket with your arms out. That’s how Bill Russell got started.”
“Bill who?”
“Never mind. Just look menacing. Go ahead, you can do it.”
He twisted his face into what was supposed to be a scowl. It looked more like a smirk.
“More teeth. Give me some teeth.”
He pulled his lips back a bit.
“Now a growl. Mean and low.”
Crawford obediently growled.
“Okay, we’ll work on it. Let me call Todd Bowers. He’s the coach. He’ll make sure you get to practice.”
“Well …”
“You can do it, Crawford. At least try.”
“All right. Maybe I have some undiscovered native ability.”
Nothing more was said about basketball until several weeks later, when Crawford called one evening.
“Our first game is tomorrow night. I expect you’ll attend.” There was a twinge of excitement.
“Oh … well, I expect I will.”
“Terrific. Simply terrific. I will not let you down.”
So I went to the game the following night. How do I explain the way it went? Easy. It was a nightmare.
Crawford was selected to jump for the tip-off. He was so eager to get the ball that when the referee tossed it up, he lunged in and knocked over the opposing player. Whistle. Foul. One second had ticked off the clock.
The other team took the ball out of bounds. One of the players took a pass, drove to the basket, and put up a shot. Crawford blocked it with a wild swoop of his arm. That was the good part.
The bad part was that he almost knocked the player’s head off in the process. Whistle. Foul. We were now 20 seconds into the game.
The fouled player made his first free throw but missed the second. Up went Crawford for the rebound—up and over another player. Whistle. Foul. Our ward called a time-out.
I watched Crawford during the time-out. His eyes were brimming with determination. He wanted to atone for his mistakes, and I got the feeling, he wanted to do it all at once. I hoped Todd would pull him and let him regain some composure. Instead Crawford trotted back onto the court.
Our team had the ball. Crawford took a pass at the top of the key. He turned toward the basket, pulled his lips back, and growled. I sensed disaster.
Before I could mumble, “No, don’t do it,” he put his head down and like a bull, battered his way toward the basket. One of those huge feet got tangled with the other, and Crawford was airborne. Three innocent players were in his path. I cringed and closed my eyes. Then came a crash and four distinct thuds as the bodies dropped to the floor. I opened my eyes slowly and wondered if I should call the paramedics.
Four young men were sprawled on the floor, a tangled heap of arms, legs, and dazed looks. Fortunately, no one was hurt, although Crawford seemed a little confused about which planet he was on.
And yes, there was a whistle and a foul on Crawford. Four fouls in 30 seconds. It must have been some kind of a record.
Todd motioned for me to come onto the floor.
“Crawford’s a little woozy. Will you keep an eye on him?”
“Sure.”
Crawford was sitting up now, holding his head with his hands.
“C’mon, Crawford. Let’s take you some place to rest.”
I helped him to his feet and he groggily followed me out the door. He slumped onto a couch in the foyer.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, looking up. “You’re Brother North.”
“Good. And who are you?”
“A failure.”
“That’s not true.”
“I let you down. I let everyone down.”
“You did not. That was the most memorable half-minute of basketball I’ve ever seen.”
He turned and stared out the window. He didn’t say a word for a couple of minutes. Finally, I moved to where I could see his face.
A thin line of tears ran down his cheeks.
“It is so difficult,” he said quietly. “I try. I really try. But I don’t seem to fit anywhere. Where do I belong, Brother North?”
I wasn’t sure what to say, other than I knew I had to begin with the truth. Crawford deserved that much.
“I’m not sure. But I do know this, Crawford. You will find your place someday. Just keep doing what’s right, and it will happen.”
He shifted a little on the couch. “I hope you’re right.”
“Hey, I’m the one you called astute, remember? Has that changed?”
“No.”
“You’ll have some rough spots, Crawford. Everyone does, especially while they’re growing. But you’ll be okay. More than okay. You’re a good person. You know who you are and where your roots are. Right there you have an advantage over most people.”
“But it doesn’t seem fair. If I have advantages, why isn’t it easier?”
“Life isn’t always easy.” I winced when I said it. More than most people, Crawford already knew that. From the time his father died and he started washing cars, Crawford knew it wouldn’t be simple and comfortable. Still, I wanted him to look at what he had, not what he didn’t have.
“A lot of blessings have already come to you. There will be more. Sometimes blessings are so close that we don’t recognize them.”
He rubbed his hand over the back of his head.
“Yes, I believe you are correct on that point. I have a terrific mother, three beautiful sisters, and I’m a member of the Church. And I have a great friend in you.”
“And I have a great friend in you. Now, do you want to get back in the game? You still have one foul left to burn.”
He said his head was still throbbing, so I helped him to my car and drove him home.
Read more →
👤 Youth
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Church Members (General)
Adversity
Family
Friendship
Kindness
Ministering
Single-Parent Families
Young Men
The Path to Palmyra
Summary: Joseph Smith Sr. shifted from farming to storekeeping and pursued a risky ginseng consignment to China, bypassing a middleman. The middleman’s son sold the ginseng “at a high price” and kept the money, leaving the Smiths unable to pay creditors. Lucy surrendered a $1,000 wedding gift, and Joseph Sr. sold the family farm; the family became penniless and moved repeatedly over the next 14 years.
The Prophet’s parents, Joseph Smith Sr. and Lucy Mack Smith, married in Tunbridge, Vermont, USA, in 1796. After six years of fairly successful farming, the Smiths moved to nearby Randolph to try their hand at storekeeping.3
The line of goods Joseph Sr. acquired with the help of Boston-based creditors moved quickly to eager new customers—not for cash but for promises of payment once harvests came in at the end of the growing season. As he waited for promised payments to pay off his creditors, he jumped into a new investment opportunity.
In those days Chinese markets were clamoring for crystallized ginseng root. Though Joseph Sr. had a hard-cash offer from a middleman for $3,000 for the ginseng root he had collected and prepared for shipment, he decided on the riskier but potentially more lucrative strategy of taking the product to New York himself and contracting with a ship’s captain to sell his goods in China on consignment. By eliminating the middleman, he stood to make as much as $4,500—an immense sum in those days.4
As bad luck or sinister planning would have it, Joseph Sr.’s shipment ended up on the same boat carrying the son of the middleman with whom he had declined to do business. Taking advantage of the situation, this son sold the Smith ginseng in China “at a high price” and kept the proceeds while spinning tales that the venture had been a bust, producing only a chest full of tea as reward.5
Meanwhile, just as this swindle was unfolding, the payments for a large inventory of merchandise had fallen due at the Smith store. In the face of demanding creditors, the Smiths hit a desperation point. To pay their debts, Lucy gave up a wedding gift of $1,000 that she had saved for years, and Joseph accepted $800 for the family farm in Tunbridge.6 The farm was the one thing that would have at least guaranteed a modicum of economic stability and long-term physical security in the often harsh world of the early American frontier. Now, penniless and landless, the Smiths would be forced to move eight times in 14 years, constantly looking for a way to provide for their family.
The line of goods Joseph Sr. acquired with the help of Boston-based creditors moved quickly to eager new customers—not for cash but for promises of payment once harvests came in at the end of the growing season. As he waited for promised payments to pay off his creditors, he jumped into a new investment opportunity.
In those days Chinese markets were clamoring for crystallized ginseng root. Though Joseph Sr. had a hard-cash offer from a middleman for $3,000 for the ginseng root he had collected and prepared for shipment, he decided on the riskier but potentially more lucrative strategy of taking the product to New York himself and contracting with a ship’s captain to sell his goods in China on consignment. By eliminating the middleman, he stood to make as much as $4,500—an immense sum in those days.4
As bad luck or sinister planning would have it, Joseph Sr.’s shipment ended up on the same boat carrying the son of the middleman with whom he had declined to do business. Taking advantage of the situation, this son sold the Smith ginseng in China “at a high price” and kept the proceeds while spinning tales that the venture had been a bust, producing only a chest full of tea as reward.5
Meanwhile, just as this swindle was unfolding, the payments for a large inventory of merchandise had fallen due at the Smith store. In the face of demanding creditors, the Smiths hit a desperation point. To pay their debts, Lucy gave up a wedding gift of $1,000 that she had saved for years, and Joseph accepted $800 for the family farm in Tunbridge.6 The farm was the one thing that would have at least guaranteed a modicum of economic stability and long-term physical security in the often harsh world of the early American frontier. Now, penniless and landless, the Smiths would be forced to move eight times in 14 years, constantly looking for a way to provide for their family.
Read more →
👤 Parents
👤 Other
Adversity
Debt
Employment
Family
Honesty
Joseph Smith
Sacrifice
Small Temples—
Summary: In Japan, a 21-year-old man joined the Church and became the only member in his family. He completed family history for his deceased grandfather and performed his vicarious baptism. Emerging from the font in tears, he testified that he now felt he was not the only Church member in his family. The experience deepened his sense of family connection and brought new closeness into his life.
In Japan, I witnessed a 21-year-old man accept the gospel. After baptism, he was the only member of the Church in his family. He completed the family history work for his deceased grandfather so he could perform ordinance work vicariously for him, literally doing something for his grandfather that his grandfather could no longer do for himself. As this young man came up out of the baptismal font, he had tears in his eyes. He said, “Now I know and feel, I have a witness, that I am not the only member of this Church in my family.” These ordinances strengthened his relationship with his family and brought a new closeness into his life.
Read more →
👤 Young Adults
👤 Other
Baptism
Baptisms for the Dead
Conversion
Family
Family History
Ordinances
Testimony
Don’t Chance It
Summary: The speaker describes how gambling escalated from pitching quarters in junior high to larger bets in high school, including card games during baseball trips and the temptations of casino gambling near his home. A friend’s quick loss at “Megabucks” became a defining moment that deepened his resolve to avoid gambling and keep the Lord’s commandments. He concludes that gospel principles and true doctrine can strengthen young people to resist behaviors that offend the Spirit.
In high school, quarters became merely small change. Our attention was drawn to larger sums of money with bigger wagers, usually around big-ticket sporting events. Every week there seemed to be a big game, and betting circles were frequently established. Obviously, the more people there were contributing to a pot, the greater a winner’s takings would be. I remember one student who kept a notebook with the particular bets, the odds, and the individuals involved. Between and sometimes during classes he would approach you, asking if you would like to bet.
Unfortunately, the gambling scene pervaded other high school activities and went beyond school boundaries. While traveling with my baseball team, both on the bus and in the hotel rooms, card games took over much of our spare time. I recall watching a card game where two teammates had $120 on the line, with the luck of a particular card deciding the fate of the game. Someone won that day, but I don’t remember who. What I do remember is the chaos, the screaming and vulgar language, the laughing at someone else’s expense. Most importantly, I remember feeling void of the Spirit. It’s a dirty, ugly feeling.
Near my home was a hotel we often went to that had an arcade, a bowling alley, and a good restaurant. I spent many fun times bowling with my brothers and our friends. To get to the bowling alley, we had to go through the hotel’s casino. There is a distinct image in my mind to this day of the smell of cigarette and cigar smoke and the dropping of coins into the metal basins from the slot machines. The image of countless people sitting in the same place for hours playing cards or pulling levers on slot machines seems to be a constant reminder to me of the shallow habit of gambling.
One day a friend of mine, while leaving the bowling alley, tried his luck at a game of chance they called “Megabucks.” The winnings were well over a million dollars. You had to play several dollars at a time to have a chance at winning. Of course, he lost, and he kept on losing. Within five minutes he lost $60, and the only thing he had to show for it was his contribution to the grand total that would eventually go to someone else. My friend lost $60, yet I gained a greater distaste for the gambling habit and a greater resolve to keep the Lord’s commandments. Like other occasions in my life, this became a defining moment that strengthened my resolve to put my occasional past blemishes behind me and turn to the Lord with full purpose of heart.
Through a loving Heavenly Father and the guidance of exemplary parents who avoided the practice of gambling, I was able to put my lapses with games of chance behind me. Far too many friends and acquaintances didn’t stop at pitching quarters or playing cards. Gambling and the other bad habits it leads to are overtaking far too many of Heavenly Father’s children. With an unresolved determination to avoid it, you can become a victim very quickly. Gratefully, two years before I became “legal” in the eyes of the state of Nevada, I was “about my Father’s business” preaching the gospel in the Washington D.C. South Mission.
You may need courageous fortitude as the world thrusts the acquisition of riches and the madness of materialism upon you before you’ve even graduated from school. Understanding true doctrine and living by the principles taught in the scriptures and by living prophets will strengthen you. With this strength, you can refuse and conquer any behavior offensive to the Spirit.
Unfortunately, the gambling scene pervaded other high school activities and went beyond school boundaries. While traveling with my baseball team, both on the bus and in the hotel rooms, card games took over much of our spare time. I recall watching a card game where two teammates had $120 on the line, with the luck of a particular card deciding the fate of the game. Someone won that day, but I don’t remember who. What I do remember is the chaos, the screaming and vulgar language, the laughing at someone else’s expense. Most importantly, I remember feeling void of the Spirit. It’s a dirty, ugly feeling.
Near my home was a hotel we often went to that had an arcade, a bowling alley, and a good restaurant. I spent many fun times bowling with my brothers and our friends. To get to the bowling alley, we had to go through the hotel’s casino. There is a distinct image in my mind to this day of the smell of cigarette and cigar smoke and the dropping of coins into the metal basins from the slot machines. The image of countless people sitting in the same place for hours playing cards or pulling levers on slot machines seems to be a constant reminder to me of the shallow habit of gambling.
One day a friend of mine, while leaving the bowling alley, tried his luck at a game of chance they called “Megabucks.” The winnings were well over a million dollars. You had to play several dollars at a time to have a chance at winning. Of course, he lost, and he kept on losing. Within five minutes he lost $60, and the only thing he had to show for it was his contribution to the grand total that would eventually go to someone else. My friend lost $60, yet I gained a greater distaste for the gambling habit and a greater resolve to keep the Lord’s commandments. Like other occasions in my life, this became a defining moment that strengthened my resolve to put my occasional past blemishes behind me and turn to the Lord with full purpose of heart.
Through a loving Heavenly Father and the guidance of exemplary parents who avoided the practice of gambling, I was able to put my lapses with games of chance behind me. Far too many friends and acquaintances didn’t stop at pitching quarters or playing cards. Gambling and the other bad habits it leads to are overtaking far too many of Heavenly Father’s children. With an unresolved determination to avoid it, you can become a victim very quickly. Gratefully, two years before I became “legal” in the eyes of the state of Nevada, I was “about my Father’s business” preaching the gospel in the Washington D.C. South Mission.
You may need courageous fortitude as the world thrusts the acquisition of riches and the madness of materialism upon you before you’ve even graduated from school. Understanding true doctrine and living by the principles taught in the scriptures and by living prophets will strengthen you. With this strength, you can refuse and conquer any behavior offensive to the Spirit.
Read more →
👤 Youth
Gambling
Temptation
To Hear or Not to Hear
Summary: While migrating to Missouri, Polly Knight became gravely ill. She insisted on finishing the journey and died soon after arriving. Her husband later found animals disturbing her grave and, though unwell, built a protective pen around it.
But at least as numerous as the stories of those who faltered are the stories of the quiet heroes who did not. Though not mentioned by name in the Doctrine and Covenants, Polly Knight, mother of the family who so faithfully stood by the Prophet, became the first Latter-day Saint laid to rest in Missouri and earned her place in Church history. Traveling to settle in Missouri, she became so ill that her son, Newel, was dispatched from the riverboat to buy lumber for her coffin. Despite her illness, she insisted on completing the journey and died soon after reaching the gathering place.
After burying his wife in Missouri, Joseph Knight recorded the following: “She was Burried in the woods a spot Chosen out By our selves. I was along By where she was Buried a few Days after and I found the pigs had Began to root where she was Burried. I Being verry unwell But I took my ax the next Day and went and Bilt a pen around it. It was the Last I done for her.”10 Her faithful sacrifice bears the Lord’s benediction. Soon after her death, the Lord told Joseph Smith, “Those that die shall rest from all their labors, and their works shall follow them; and they shall receive a crown in the mansions of my Father, which I have prepared for them” (D&C 59:2).
After burying his wife in Missouri, Joseph Knight recorded the following: “She was Burried in the woods a spot Chosen out By our selves. I was along By where she was Buried a few Days after and I found the pigs had Began to root where she was Burried. I Being verry unwell But I took my ax the next Day and went and Bilt a pen around it. It was the Last I done for her.”10 Her faithful sacrifice bears the Lord’s benediction. Soon after her death, the Lord told Joseph Smith, “Those that die shall rest from all their labors, and their works shall follow them; and they shall receive a crown in the mansions of my Father, which I have prepared for them” (D&C 59:2).
Read more →
👤 Pioneers
👤 Early Saints
👤 Parents
Death
Faith
Family
Joseph Smith
Sacrifice
Women in the Church
Joseph Smith: Prophet of the Restoration
Summary: In a temple sealing room, the speaker watched a young couple be sealed after difficult personal journeys and saw the groom's mother weeping with joy. Remembering the pain and faith that had marked their paths, he received a spiritual impression that Christ suffered and died so they could be healed, made worthy, and sealed eternally. The scene became a vivid witness of the personal purpose of the Savior's Atonement.
Once, I sat in a temple sealing room where I saw a young man and young woman sealed for time and all eternity. I knew the young man, and I knew of the path he had traveled. It was a hard path, full of pain and heartache, but the path was also filled with the Lord's tender mercies and His grace. I looked across the room at the young man's mother. I knew of the pain she had felt for her son, and I could see on her face pure joy as tears flowed down her cheeks. I knew also the path the young woman had walked. I knew of her goodness and her great faith that had sustained her in difficult hours.
As I watched this beautiful scene, there came into my mind a thought I knew was from the Holy Ghost. These are the words I felt: “This is why He did it—this is why Jesus went into the Garden and hung on the cross. This is why He suffered crushing agony and gave His life. This is why Jesus descended below all things—so that this young man, so precious in His eyes, and this young woman, so choice, so beloved of Him, could be clean and worthy, healed and whole, sealed forever by His power as husband and wife in the new and everlasting covenant, heirs to all the promises and all the blessings a loving Heavenly Father could bestow.”
I want you to hold in your mind for just a moment the image of the young man and young woman in the temple of the Lord. Everything about that scene that matters comes from Jesus Christ. They are in the Lord’s house; the ordinance was given by Him; it is His priesthood, His sealing power that joins them forever; the keys of the priesthood that authorize that ordinance are His; it is His atoning sacrifice that cleansed the couple from sin and made possible their entrance into His house.
As I watched this beautiful scene, there came into my mind a thought I knew was from the Holy Ghost. These are the words I felt: “This is why He did it—this is why Jesus went into the Garden and hung on the cross. This is why He suffered crushing agony and gave His life. This is why Jesus descended below all things—so that this young man, so precious in His eyes, and this young woman, so choice, so beloved of Him, could be clean and worthy, healed and whole, sealed forever by His power as husband and wife in the new and everlasting covenant, heirs to all the promises and all the blessings a loving Heavenly Father could bestow.”
I want you to hold in your mind for just a moment the image of the young man and young woman in the temple of the Lord. Everything about that scene that matters comes from Jesus Christ. They are in the Lord’s house; the ordinance was given by Him; it is His priesthood, His sealing power that joins them forever; the keys of the priesthood that authorize that ordinance are His; it is His atoning sacrifice that cleansed the couple from sin and made possible their entrance into His house.
Read more →
👤 Young Adults
👤 Parents
👤 Other
Following Christ: Living the Spirit of the Honor Code
Summary: A BYU-Idaho student repeatedly broke apartment visiting standards by inviting her boyfriend into her bedroom. While most roommates ignored it, one roommate named Mary confronted her, followed the Savior’s counsel, and took her to the Student Honor Office. Though Jane was initially angry, a question from an administrator helped her realize that Mary’s actions came from love, beginning Jane’s repentance and future gratitude.
I will conclude with a true story that happened not long ago. The story begins with a BYU-Idaho student (I will call Jane) inviting her boyfriend into her bedroom. This happened more than once. Her roommates knew what Jane was doing, but she told them, "We just need a place to talk."
Most of the roommates ignored what Jane was doing, but one of them, Mary, talked to Jane. Jane was upset with Mary and told her it was none of her business. Mary did not let it go. She followed Matthew, chapter 18, verses 15-17, and eventually persuaded Jane to go with her to the Student Honor Office.
Jane went, but she was really upset with Mary. Jane met with a Student Honor administrator. He could tell that Jane was very angry with Mary for bringing her in, and so he asked Jane a really interesting question: "Which of your roommates do you think loves you the most--the ones who turned away or Mary who brought you here?" Jane dropped her head and began to cry. She said in her tears, "Mary is the one who loves me the most."
That moment of tears and recognition was for Jane the beginning of "coming to herself" and turning to Christ. Many years from now when Jane is a wife and mother she will look back on the love of her roommate with overwhelming gratitude. She will think of her temple marriage, of her husband and her children, of her deep and abiding testimony of the gospel; and she will thank Heavenly Father for His plan of salvation, for the Atonement of Jesus Christ, and for a roommate who reached out to her in a moment of great need.
Most of the roommates ignored what Jane was doing, but one of them, Mary, talked to Jane. Jane was upset with Mary and told her it was none of her business. Mary did not let it go. She followed Matthew, chapter 18, verses 15-17, and eventually persuaded Jane to go with her to the Student Honor Office.
Jane went, but she was really upset with Mary. Jane met with a Student Honor administrator. He could tell that Jane was very angry with Mary for bringing her in, and so he asked Jane a really interesting question: "Which of your roommates do you think loves you the most--the ones who turned away or Mary who brought you here?" Jane dropped her head and began to cry. She said in her tears, "Mary is the one who loves me the most."
That moment of tears and recognition was for Jane the beginning of "coming to herself" and turning to Christ. Many years from now when Jane is a wife and mother she will look back on the love of her roommate with overwhelming gratitude. She will think of her temple marriage, of her husband and her children, of her deep and abiding testimony of the gospel; and she will thank Heavenly Father for His plan of salvation, for the Atonement of Jesus Christ, and for a roommate who reached out to her in a moment of great need.
Read more →
👤 Young Adults
👤 Friends
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
All Is Not Well
Summary: A teenager struggled after their parents divorced and discouraged church activity while they were a minority Latter-day Saint at school. Turning to the Book of Mormon, they found strength in Nephi’s experiences with family turmoil. They tried to set a good example, invited their mother to return to church, and often prayed and cried in private. Though the home remains unhappy, the scriptures provide peace and a way to cope.
I used to attend a school where it was hard to be a Latter-day Saint. The LDS students were a minority, and not many of the other students shared our standards. It seemed especially frustrating for me because my parents divorced during my first year of high school.
My family was divided. We fought all the time. My parents couldn’t say anything kind about each other, and they discouraged me from attending church. Our home was full of conflict.
During that time, life was pretty confusing for me. I guess that’s when I really discovered the scriptures. My family wasn’t supportive of my scripture reading. Even my mother used to tell me it was a waste of time. But in the Book of Mormon I found someone else who had to deal with family problems—and reading of his experiences gave me strength to deal with my own.
Nephi’s father, Lehi, often had to counsel Nephi’s older brothers, Laman and Lemuel, “because of [their] stiffneckedness … ; for behold they did murmur in many things against their father” (1 Ne. 2:11).
“And it came to pass that Laman was angry with me, and also with my father,” wrote Nephi; “and also was Lemuel, for he hearkened unto the words of Laman. Wherefore Laman and Lemuel did speak many hard words unto us, their younger brothers, and they did smite us even with a rod” (1 Ne. 3:28).
I tried to set a good example for my family. I went to church, attended Mutual, and prayed regularly. I even invited my mom to get active in the Church again.
Nephi also tried to set a good example and encouraged his brothers to return to the Lord: “And now I, Nephi, … spake unto them, saying, … Behold ye are mine elder brethren, and how is it that ye are so hard in your hearts, and so blind in your minds, that ye have need that I, your younger brother, should speak unto you, yea, and set an example for you?
“How is it that ye have not hearkened unto the word of the Lord?” (1 Ne. 7:8–9).
Sometimes, in private, I cried. Sometimes I prayed for my family. Always I felt lonely.
Again, I knew Nephi had experienced similar feelings: “Behold, Laman and Lemuel would not hearken unto my words; and being grieved because of the hardness of their hearts I cried unto the Lord for them” (1 Ne. 2:18).
When I was sad, I knew Nephi had known sadness. When I was discouraged, I knew Nephi had known discouragement. When I was lonely, I knew Nephi had known loneliness.
No, my story doesn’t have a nice, neat ending. I wish I could say we all lived “happily ever after,” but that hasn’t happened yet. My home is still unhappy. But Heavenly Father has given me the scriptures, and I know He understands exactly what it is like for me at home. Although the conflict hasn’t stopped, at least I have found comfort and peace and ways to cope.
Nephi said: “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (1 Ne. 3:7).
Just as Nephi knew the Lord would help him accomplish anything he was commanded to do, I know Heavenly Father will continue to strengthen and support me as I struggle to deal with a troubled earthly home. The scriptures are my lifeline to my heavenly home.
My family was divided. We fought all the time. My parents couldn’t say anything kind about each other, and they discouraged me from attending church. Our home was full of conflict.
During that time, life was pretty confusing for me. I guess that’s when I really discovered the scriptures. My family wasn’t supportive of my scripture reading. Even my mother used to tell me it was a waste of time. But in the Book of Mormon I found someone else who had to deal with family problems—and reading of his experiences gave me strength to deal with my own.
Nephi’s father, Lehi, often had to counsel Nephi’s older brothers, Laman and Lemuel, “because of [their] stiffneckedness … ; for behold they did murmur in many things against their father” (1 Ne. 2:11).
“And it came to pass that Laman was angry with me, and also with my father,” wrote Nephi; “and also was Lemuel, for he hearkened unto the words of Laman. Wherefore Laman and Lemuel did speak many hard words unto us, their younger brothers, and they did smite us even with a rod” (1 Ne. 3:28).
I tried to set a good example for my family. I went to church, attended Mutual, and prayed regularly. I even invited my mom to get active in the Church again.
Nephi also tried to set a good example and encouraged his brothers to return to the Lord: “And now I, Nephi, … spake unto them, saying, … Behold ye are mine elder brethren, and how is it that ye are so hard in your hearts, and so blind in your minds, that ye have need that I, your younger brother, should speak unto you, yea, and set an example for you?
“How is it that ye have not hearkened unto the word of the Lord?” (1 Ne. 7:8–9).
Sometimes, in private, I cried. Sometimes I prayed for my family. Always I felt lonely.
Again, I knew Nephi had experienced similar feelings: “Behold, Laman and Lemuel would not hearken unto my words; and being grieved because of the hardness of their hearts I cried unto the Lord for them” (1 Ne. 2:18).
When I was sad, I knew Nephi had known sadness. When I was discouraged, I knew Nephi had known discouragement. When I was lonely, I knew Nephi had known loneliness.
No, my story doesn’t have a nice, neat ending. I wish I could say we all lived “happily ever after,” but that hasn’t happened yet. My home is still unhappy. But Heavenly Father has given me the scriptures, and I know He understands exactly what it is like for me at home. Although the conflict hasn’t stopped, at least I have found comfort and peace and ways to cope.
Nephi said: “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (1 Ne. 3:7).
Just as Nephi knew the Lord would help him accomplish anything he was commanded to do, I know Heavenly Father will continue to strengthen and support me as I struggle to deal with a troubled earthly home. The scriptures are my lifeline to my heavenly home.
Read more →
👤 Youth
👤 Parents
Adversity
Book of Mormon
Divorce
Faith
Family
Prayer
Scriptures
The Best Days of Their Lives
Summary: An inactive husband who preferred pool, drinking, and smoking moved to Texas and met a caring elders quorum president who became his home teacher. Invited to play basketball, he enjoyed new friendships but still avoided church until his father died, prompting him to attend. Welcomed by the congregation, he continued on the path that led his family to the temple.
“A few years ago,” says one member, “I thought there was nothing more important than playing pool (a game similar to billiards), drinking and smoking with the boys, and staying away from home. Now I can’t understand how I ever did some of those things. When we moved to Texas things were about the same. I didn’t attend church and didn’t care much about religion. Then my wife went to our bishop and asked him to help. Of course, he passed on the plea to my elders quorum president, who prayed about it and decided that he should assign himself to be our home teacher. Then a strange thing happened. When he came to our house on his first visit, for some reason I let him in—and I had never let a home teacher in before. He talked to me as a friend and someone who cared about me. He asked me if I liked sports; well, that was great because I loved sports. He told me that they were playing basketball and asked me to join the fellows on the team. I was happy to cooperate. Meeting those good men on the team made me feel as though the friends I had in the bars weren’t really friends at all.”
But this brother still wasn’t attending church. Every month the home teachers would invite him to come, and “every month I would make up some excuse. I was afraid to make the change. But the president never made me feel bad or ashamed at my excuses; I was always happy and content when he was in our house. Then my father died. I realized that I had gone almost my entire life disappointing him, and vowed I would never disappoint him and my mother again. That next Sunday I went to church in Houston for the first time. The people accepted me like I had never been inactive at all.”
From there it was only a matter of continuing on his new path to reach the temple with his wife and children.
But this brother still wasn’t attending church. Every month the home teachers would invite him to come, and “every month I would make up some excuse. I was afraid to make the change. But the president never made me feel bad or ashamed at my excuses; I was always happy and content when he was in our house. Then my father died. I realized that I had gone almost my entire life disappointing him, and vowed I would never disappoint him and my mother again. That next Sunday I went to church in Houston for the first time. The people accepted me like I had never been inactive at all.”
From there it was only a matter of continuing on his new path to reach the temple with his wife and children.
Read more →
👤 Parents
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Church Members (General)
Addiction
Apostasy
Bishop
Conversion
Family
Friendship
Ministering
Repentance
Temples
Bridging the Two Great Commandments
Summary: As a deacon, the speaker and his friend Vance visited Sister Muellar, a legally blind immigrant widow, to collect fast offerings. Despite her meager circumstances, she had set aside a dime and asked them to fill out her receipt. Her humble sacrifice and devotion strengthened the boys’ faith each time they left her home.
Consider this tender example. It was fast Sunday as Vance and I knocked on the door of a small, humble home. We and other deacons in the quorum had come to expect the words “Please come in,” yelled warmly in a thick German accent loud enough to hear through the door. Sister Muellar was one of several immigrant widows in the ward. She couldn’t answer the door very easily, as she was legally blind. As we stepped inside the dimly lit home, she greeted us with kind questions: What are your names? How are you doing? Do you love the Lord? We answered and shared that we came to receive her fast offering. Even at our young age, her meager circumstances were readily apparent, and her faith-filled response was profoundly touching: “I placed a dime on the counter earlier this morning. I am so grateful to offer my fast offering. Would you be kind enough to place it in the envelope and fill out my fast-offering receipt?” Her love of the Lord lifted our faith each time we left her home.
Read more →
👤 Youth
👤 Friends
👤 Church Members (General)
Disabilities
Faith
Fasting and Fast Offerings
Ministering
Young Men
Susume!
Summary: The author recounts Ryoma Sakamoto, a Japanese samurai admired for his fearless, positive attitude and efforts to establish a new government. He was assassinated in 1867, yet tried to stand and walk forward even while being repeatedly stabbed. The story illustrates perseverance in the face of mortal danger.
The samurai were the military nobility of medieval and early-modern Japan. The Japanese still talk about one of them, Ryoma Sakamoto, who died in 1867. One of the reasons he is still so popular is because he always kept a positive attitude. He did not fear anyone or anything. He went anywhere he was needed. Inspired by the ideal that all men are created equal, he made every effort to establish a new government. But he was assassinated, and even as he was stabbed many times by another samurai’s sword, he didn’t give up. He tried to stand up and walk forward. This is a very famous story in Japan.
Read more →
👤 Other
Adversity
Courage
Death
Endure to the End
Sacrifice
FYI:For Your Info
Summary: Young Women in the Hemet Third Ward used their artistic talents to make wooden dolls and puzzles for children waiting to be sealed in the temple. After finishing, they learned they would see the toys in use on their next trip for baptisms for the dead, giving them added anticipation for going to the temple.
The Young Women in the Hemet Third Ward, Hemet California Stake, used their artistic talents to provide a quiet activity for children waiting to be sealed to their parents in the temple. The girls painted wooden dolls and puzzles for the children to play with.
After their project was completed, the girls were told they could see their toys in use when they went on their next trip to do baptisms for the dead. Now they have other reasons to look forward to going to the temple!
After their project was completed, the girls were told they could see their toys in use when they went on their next trip to do baptisms for the dead. Now they have other reasons to look forward to going to the temple!
Read more →
👤 Youth
👤 Church Members (General)
Baptisms for the Dead
Children
Family
Sealing
Service
Temples
Young Women