Gospel Story Finder

I’ve had many problems with my temper. I used to yell at people because I thought they were such idiots. I would easily and quickly lose my temper. The way I overcame this was by reading the Book of Mormon, writing my feelings down on paper, and making a conscious effort to change. After about a week, I could tell that I wasn’t getting angry at people nearly as often.

Elder John O. Leyer, 19Indianapolis, Indiana

The Saturday night following the Thanksgiving holiday, I found myself alone in my off-campus apartment. I didn’t have much to do, so I flipped through the channels on the TV until I came across a movie that had just started.
It didn’t take more than a few minutes for me to realize that the movie was inappropriate. For a minute I thought, “What’s the big deal? No one is around. After all, it’s on TV, so all of the worst parts must be edited out.”
The Spirit, however, prompted me to turn off the TV. I decided to read a book instead.
About half an hour later I heard a knock at the door. It was a member of my elders quorum, who told me that one of the young women he home taught was sick and needed a blessing. He had spent the past 30 minutes calling around and knocking on doors, trying to find someone who was home and able to help him. Finally, he had come to my door. I agreed to help and quickly changed into Sunday dress.
While we were walking to her apartment, I asked him how ill she was. All he knew was that he had received an urgent call from the young woman’s roommate, requesting that he come right away.
When we arrived at the apartment, it was apparent that she was not well. She had a high fever and looked pale. Her roommate said she had been sick for several hours, was weak, and was unable to eat because of an upset stomach.
I had assumed that I would anoint her with oil, but the brother from my elders quorum asked me to give the blessing instead. I felt inadequate and was not sure what I would say. I had not had time to mentally prepare to give a blessing, but I silently prayed that God would direct my words.
After the anointing, I addressed the young woman by name and pronounced the blessing. I found myself making promises of restored health and providing words of comfort that were not my own. I then closed the blessing. As we opened our eyes, I saw a huge smile on the young woman’s face, and she thanked us for the blessing. She soon recovered and was able to return to her studies and finish the semester.
As I reflect on that experience, I feel great gratitude for the opportunity to hold the priesthood. The experience lasted only about 10 minutes, and I am sure the ill young woman has since forgotten about it. But it has had a lasting impact on me.
I am grateful for the whisperings of the Spirit, which prompted me to avoid temptation and to remain spiritually ready. Additionally, I am grateful the Spirit directed the brother from my elders quorum to my apartment.
Most of all, I am grateful for a kind and merciful Heavenly Father, who strengthened me in my inadequacies, guiding my words in the blessing and then fulfilling the words He had me speak. I know that as we remain worthy, we will have the Spirit to guide our path so that we can be ready to serve those around us.

Lya Luna Becnel doesn’t just slice fruit or arrange food. To watch her in a kitchen is to watch an artist in action.
She chooses the plate the way a painter selects a canvas. She wraps several flavors of Mediterranean olives in carefully selected slices of dry sausage, and does the same with salad greens. She places four types of cheese in the foreground, with an oriental ladle holding a sauce made of fruit and mustard. As her personal signature, she adds an apple, carefully cut and sculpted into the shape of a swan. The swan is a symbol with deep meaning to her.
When Lya was a young girl growing up in Tehuacan, Mexico, she saw a food magazine that inspired her. “On the front cover was a beautiful white swan carved from jicama (an edible root) and on the back was an exquisite turkey made from pieces of watermelon and other fruit,” she says. “I can still remember the artistry of those sculptures. The image of them stayed in my mind, and a voice inside me said, ‘Someday, you will make one of those.’” It wasn’t until years later, in a professional cooking class, that Lya was trained to carve a swan exactly like the one she had seen so long before.
Today, Lya is fulfilling her lifelong dream to serve others (literally) by preparing beautiful, nutritious food. In Europe and the U.S. she counsels cooks about the quality of their meals, prepares fancy dinners at gourmet restaurants and in people’s homes, and also teaches cooking and nutrition classes. She is known for the excellent food she prepares and the way she presents it. “Food is art,” she says. “Having it look good is part of having it taste good.”
But getting where she wanted to be has not been, shall we say, a piece of cake.
“My parents wanted me to be a doctor,” she says. After counseling with them and praying, she finally agreed she would study nutrition. That would allow her to be around food and yet still be involved in a medically related field. After college, she began work as a nutritionist in Mexico City. She loved the working environment and the people, but she still longed to be a chef. After giving the job a fair chance, she counseled with her parents again and mapped out a new plan.
“I prayed to Heavenly Father and asked Him to guide me,” she says. “Then I did all the research I could about culinary schools.” She saved money, studied English as a second language, then enrolled in a cooking school in London, England. That opened up the opportunity for her to also have apprenticeships—if she would work without pay. She did and gained experience as well as forming friendships with several of the top chefs in the world.
“Working without pay was hard,” she says. “I had to cater private dinners on the side to pay my way through school.” She also found a job at a restaurant equipment company in France, preparing meals and demonstrating professional ovens. For a year and a half, between school and work and various apprenticeships in two countries, her days were filled with long, hard work. “I had to pay the rent, and I had to pay for transportation, but I always had food because I was always allowed to eat in the restaurants.”
She also kept her standards high. “Living the Word of Wisdom was less of a challenge than some people might think,” she says. “For example, when people invited me to have a glass of wine, which is a big part of the restaurant business, I explained that I don’t drink alcohol. They respected that. And when people would party or suggest immoral activities, I would explain that my standards were different. We were colleagues at work, but I didn’t hang out with them in places that would bring me down.”
Lya and her husband, who is also a chef, offer this advice about careers: “Find something you love doing and that you’ll want to do for your entire life. Set goals and work hard, then pray, be humble, and follow your heart.”

Masha and her family are a great help to the missionaries. They invite friends to listen to gospel discussions. They invite the missionaries to dinner. And for missionaries needing help with the Russian language, Masha is a friendly tutor.

“She always talks with new missionaries and helps them learn to speak,” says Elder Samuel Drown. “They don’t have to worry about making mistakes around her, because she makes them feel good about themselves.” She teaches them games Russian children use to learn words and numbers. She gave one missionary a kind nickname that included a vowel sound the elder had trouble pronouncing. He appreciated the fun teaching method—and learned to say the sound correctly.

Recently I interviewed a returned missionary who is less active and claimed to have lost his faith. I asked him if he was praying and studying the Book of Mormon, as he did when he was a missionary. He said he wasn’t because he had lost his faith in Joseph Smith.

I felt prompted to ask him this question: “Are you into pornography?” He answered yes. I told him it was no wonder he had lost his testimony.

I explained that a testimony is nothing more or less than the Holy Ghost bearing witness to our soul of the truthfulness of the gospel and of the restored Church. When we fail to pray and study the scriptures, the influence of the Spirit in our life is weakened, lowering our resistance to temptation. When we sin and become unclean, we lose the companionship of the Holy Ghost altogether. Without the ongoing witness of the Spirit, we can easily begin to think we don’t have a testimony and maybe never did.

Recently I had the opportunity of riding a pleasure boat up Germany’s Rhine River. The three-hour trip only covered a few miles because we had to go against the current. The bus that took us to that boat sped on ahead to our destination, affording the driver a long nap while he waited for our vessel to churn against the river before catching up to him. As we sunned on the deck, looking at the medieval castles jutting out among the vineyard-covered hills paralleling the famous river, we saw many similar boats pass us from the opposite direction traveling at several times our speed.
Perhaps you have experienced such a boat ride or tried to swim or row against the current. You might have wished then that it was your option, like our oncoming craft, to ride easily in the opposite direction—allowing the force of the current to sustain you instead of the exertion of muscles. There is an obvious parallel in our secular society: it is easy, fun, fashionable, acceptable, even legal to move with the sensual current in entertainment, in courtship, in reading materials, but it leads into a secular atmosphere that you do not control. There is, however, another life-style that could be called “swimming upstream.”
For example, there was a young soldier on sentry duty one day. His foul-mouthed sergeant, whom he generally avoided, approached him. The recruit steeled himself for the customary barrage of profanity that he would later have to scour from his mind. Instead his sergeant said, “You’re a Mormon, aren’t you?” The recruit nodded in the affirmative, with some surprise, only to be stunned by the next observation: “I could tell because you don’t swear.” The private gulped inwardly as he took quick inventory. The sergeant continued: “You know what gets me about you guys? You are good when you don’t have to be!”
Another time in the military a whole delegation of LDS college men went through summer training. As they moved from one field demonstration to another, each hour they endured the military instructors who began each session with a dirty joke. One NCO unintentionally prefaced the inevitable lewd story by asking, “Anyone object to a joke?” There was a split second of intense silence while the opportunity ran through the group. Then quickly from the back came a solitary but solid, “Yes.” The cadreman looked up in shocked surprise, immediately becoming defensive. Intending to intimidate such an upstart, he fired back, “Well, leave if you don’t like it.” Again a second of silence—followed by a decision. Then three-fourths of the group voted with their feet.
The military experience is like other forays into secularism that LDS youth are facing today. They are away from home with carnal options on every hand—gambling, profanity, pornography, immorality, and bug-out-ism. Such crass enticements successfully ensnare the uncommitted, but thousands of others choose to swim against the current. One young priest, during his first week away from home, confronted some returned missionaries in his barracks who appeared more sophisticated. Why weren’t they saying their prayers, he queried. His challenge encouraged them all to overcome their smoothly disguised fears of censure. They joined after lights out for a family prayer each night. Soon they discovered that their Mormon compatriots throughout the post were doing the same in small scattered groups; they even included their fellow nonmember squad members. The result was a brotherhood—blessing when sick, counseling when troubled, and bolstering each other during competition—instead of the harassing, cutting, and undermining that are so common in basic training. This higher life occurs without leaders or instructions; it emerges from being “anxiously engaged in a good cause,” from conviction, from feeling the power of God within. All over the globe, many Mormon youth seek out each other. Their spiritual adventures are legion. They often reach out to friends who have followed the carnal path into deprivation. Their example, caring, and persistence have supported many through a transformation that has led them into the Melchizedek Priesthood, the temple, sometimes mission calls—in other words, into their eternal potential.
These modern youth discover the spiritual adventure, not appreciated by many today, that is symbolized by the legendary friendship of David and Jonathan in ancient Israel. Here were two young men who should have been rivals because David was anointed to be the successor to Jonathan’s father, King Saul. Instead, their commitment to virtue bound them, as the scripture says, so “that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.” (1 Sam. 18:1.)
The contemporary Davids and Jonathans in high schools and colleges, in the mission fields or army, on the job or the playing field, experience these rare friendships. They have no need to long for that relationship between David and Jonathan. It is available right now.
How can that be?
It is because there are many young Latter-day Saints, worldwide, who have caught the vision. They have discovered that by adhering to the Word of Wisdom, attending church, paying tithing, and performing other essential requirements, they are prepared to move on to a higher law—one that happens only in the soul, one that causes a burning in the bosom, a resolve in the mind, and a love in the heart. Once this happens, these youth discover a whole new vista about the gospel. They realize that being able to proudly answer to a bishop that they have refrained from sin is an exciting achievement and will help one enter the temple. But there is also a virtue built upon that restraint; it consists of positive acts that one has initiated. These are possible for young men and women who master their natural tendencies and then continue to grow by adding personal initiatives—magnifying the priesthood and radiating virtue.
This is what bound David and Jonathan; it was pure joy to love one who also loved virtue. Jonathan added selflessness and sacrifice to his basic self-mastery; David added total dedication. Their love for one another was magnified because they were committed to common principles. Their lives had purpose well beyond desire to rule an earthly kingdom over which they could easily have parted. Instead theirs was a consecration to build a kingdom of God. This vision throbbed in their beings and gave meaning to their lives.
For them and countless of your generation, it is not only a matter of filling requirements and doing what is expected in the structured environment of the Church. Instead, while holding to that rod, you go beyond to total dedication on your own initiative. It is the adventure of virtue when you are away from observation. That is where you find spiritual excitement—when you are on your own.
The result is electric.
In countless student apartments prayer permeates college life without destroying fun. On campus, as well as on the job, friendships grow beyond the joys of adolescent idealism when Mormon youth out on their own discover the adventure that awaits those who achieve self-mastery. In one apartment, for example, four freshmen lay awake late into the nights discussing the profundities of a universe governed by eternal progression. In another circle several young men regularly drove to the mountainside where they could view the heavens and discuss truths learned. There they extended the evening’s worship, pondering the galaxies. The power of prayer bound two other youthful companions, who were linked by friendship and by assignment as local missionaries. Because of the draft and a war, they were not called as full-time elders, but they did not let that rob them of the power others had to go to distant lands to discover. They found it on their own through mighty prayer, as have many others. There are home evening groups on many campuses that love roommates into the gospel—often guiding them through the substantial trials that conversion can inflict. These examples are not unusual; they are but a selection from a whole vista of LDS youth who are developing their own lifestyle, one not depicted in movies and records but one with a higher adventure.
Among them are some youth with real spiritual courage who contact a bishop to confess. These are the genuine heros who internalize the gospel. Instead of living behind a facade of acceptability, they choose to bare their soul to a judge in Israel. Anyone who has occupied that judgment seat is awed by the courage and integrity of those young Church members who take the scriptural admonition literally: “By this you may know if a man repenteth of his sins—behold, he will confess them and forsake them.” (D&C 58:43.)
In that vista of virtue, there are many who choose to develop their own courtship style instead of adopting the romanticized recreation that is loudly flaunted by the male-conquest approach. One such elder confided: “At first she was afraid, but when she discovered I would not take advantage of her, she developed a trust in me. What scares me is that now she trusts me too much. I could damage that sacred trust, so my challenge is to protect her from me. That is why I have to be the one who is in control instead of depending on her to resist.”
These are only a sample of the youth on several continents. You have undoubtedly felt their spirit too—in different places and with different actions. Not all achieve this level of internal growth, nor do even the best maintain such spirituality at all times. But this possibility of self-mastery plus positive virtue is achievable. It is often found powerfully in those under 18. You can strive for it without apology.
You must realize that such spiritual achievement does not immunize one from difficulties or doubt. Nor will it endow you with unearned talent. But it brings you an eternal perspective for our times. It will help you perceive the essence of the gospel life-style for a new era. Instead of despairing about the norms of society that are deteriorating and the laws that are legalizing what used to be forbidden, you will find a way to utilize the new freedom instead of allowing it to destroy the gospel environment. Whereas many of the youth of certain past centuries were controlled so they would avoid sin, you will know the heady feeling of voluntary choice; you can internalize moral restraints that will emerge more from conviction. This will be harder to sustain than the puritanical system of the past, but it will also bring more adventure to those who catch the vision.
Many will not be able to stand such freedom; they will be enticed by situation ethics, relativism, and even overt temptations. They will jump on the old-fashioned bandwagon that will be dressed in new apparel without recognizing that the arguments are crass. “Everyone is doing it,” “It’s your own life, so live it,” “It’s all right for consenting adults,” “There is a new morality that has outgrown conformity”—these are not new insights, merely new wrappings for sensualism. They will not lead to enduring the sublime joy. They will not qualify as spiritual adventure. Instead, it is positive virtue that leads to the celestial—even to knowing some of its joy right now.
There is more spiritual adventure to come than has yet passed—for those who swim upstream.

Take the example of Dr. Blair Bybee. After his call he received additional training in parasitology and nutrition. He was then sent to a Latter-day Saint hospital in a rural area so that he could gain experience in that situation.
Q—How long was this extra training in the rural hospital?
Dr. Mason—Two weeks.
Q—What happens when the health missionary arrives in his field of labor?
Dr. Mason—For the first five months of Elder Bybee’s mission, he performed as any other missionary would. He was a junior companion in a small village. During this time his responsibilities were divided between proselyting (70 percent) and health service (30 percent), as he learned the language and the customs of the Samoan people. Then in January he ended his preparation period and began concentrating on his specific health mission responsibilities. He was assigned by the mission president to create a health education and disease prevention program for all the Saints in Samoa. Appropriate health lessons that had been developed with the help of the BYU faculty and then translated into Samoan during the first five months of his mission were ready for use. He began conducting health seminars in conjunction with district conferences throughout the mission. He is lecturing in village after village—wherever we have a chapel—to members and nonmembers—anyone who wishes to attend—on such subjects as nutrition, alcoholism, baby care, home sanitation, the evils of tobacco, and so forth.

Ophélie and her family walked out of the church building together.
“What an amazing general conference,” Papa said. “What was your favorite part, Ophélie?”
“I like how President Nelson asked us to do acts of service,” Ophélie said. “I like helping people.”
“I do too,” Maman said. “Let’s follow the prophet and look for ways we can help others.”
A few days later, Ophélie and Papa visited their neighbor Suzie. Ophélie really liked Suzie. She had white hair and a big smile. She was like a bonus grandma!
Suzie told them she was going to have eye surgery the next day. Ophélie was a little worried.
“Will Suzie be OK?” she asked Papa while they walked home.
“Yes,” Papa said. “She’s been having trouble seeing, and the surgery will help her see better. But she’ll need a few days for her eyes to heal.”
Ophélie told Maman about Suzie’s surgery while they set the table for dinner.
“Maybe we could do something to help her,” Ophélie said. “Like President Nelson said.”
“Good idea. What could we do?” Maman asked.
Ophélie thought about it. Ophélie’s family raked leaves in Suzie’s yard each fall. They shoveled her snow during the long Canadian winters. But now it was springtime. There wasn’t any snow. Or leaves. How could they help?
During the prayer before dinner, Ophélie asked Heavenly Father to bless them to know how to help Suzie. Then Papa helped her scoop pâté chinois onto her plate.
The delicious smell of the potatoes, vegetables, and ground beef made Ophélie’s mouth water. She took a bite. It was one of her favorite dinners. Especially because Maman always let her mash the potatoes! She loved helping Maman cook.
Then Ophélie had an idea. “Maman, can we make dinner for Suzie tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Maman said. “How about a tourtière?”
“Great,” Ophélie said. “And we could make muffins too!”
The next day, Ophélie and Papa carried a plate of meat pies and muffins outside. Ophélie spotted the beautiful purple flowers blooming in their garden. She picked some and held them together in a little bouquet. Then she and Papa walked to Suzie’s house.
Ophélie knocked on Suzie’s door. Soon Suzie answered. She was wearing dark sunglasses.
“Bonjour,” Ophélie said. “We brought you dinner. And muffins.”
“It’s so kind of you to think of me,” Suzie said.
“These are for you too,” Ophélie said. She handed Suzie the bouquet.
“Très jolie!” Suzie said. “They’re beautiful. Please, come in.”
Ophélie and Papa followed Suzie into the house. “How are your eyes?” Papa asked.
“They’re a little sore right now. That’s why I have these,” Suzie said, tapping her sunglasses.
“Can you see better now?” Ophélie asked.
“It’s still a little blurry. But I should be able to see better in a few days.”
Ophélie gave Suzie a big hug. “I’m glad you’re OK. Can we come see you again when your eyes are better?”
“Of course. And when you see me next time, I’ll be able to see you too!” Suzie said. They all laughed.
Ophélie was glad she could serve, like Heavenly Father wanted her to and like the prophet asked. She liked helping her friend Suzie.

Illustrations by Matt Sweeney
I’m glad we have the same piano teacher.
Yeah. It’s nice to have the same pieces to learn.
Hey, just for fun, I’ll play the bottom hand and you play the top hand.
Hey! We’re so good we can play with one hand behind our backs.
Yeah! Now let’s both play our favorite songs at the same time.
Ow! Wish I had hands to cover my ears.
Sure sounded better when we worked together.
Amen!

It was an ill-fated, watermelon-selling trip to Alaska that exhausted all my hard-saved college fund, so I got a job as a graveyard-shift fry cook at a Provo diner. That was my first year at BYU.
I had taken a room, and the rent came due at the beginning of the month. But I didn’t make enough money to pay both my tithing and my rent. This caused me great concern. I desperately wanted to continue my education, yet I knew I should pay my tithing. Knowing I would receive greater assistance from my Father in heaven if I were faithful, I paid my tithing and awaited the day my rent would come due.
The day prior to the rent due date, my landlady, Sister Knight, asked me if my cousin and I would be willing to trim a large tree in her backyard in return for a month’s rent. Gratefully, I accepted.
The following month, I again paid my tithing immediately after receiving my check. I paid for my food and other school expenses, but found I was without sufficient funds to pay my rent. Once again, the day before the rent was due, Sister Knight asked me if we would be willing to chop the large tree in her backyard into firewood in return for another month’s rent.
For the next couple of months I was able to pay all of my expenses after paying my tithing. Then came another month when there was again not enough money to cover both rent and tithing. I paid my tithing. I knew that Sister Knight did not have any more trees to be cut, and I was concerned that I should pay the rent promptly. On the Friday evening before the rent was required, a local radio station in Provo announced a program called “Movie Merry-Go-Round” in which a prize would be offered to anyone who could answer questions regarding one of the movies then playing in Provo. I listened to the program and thought I might try to win the prize. That evening, the radio announcer offered $18 and two free movie tickets to the first person who could give the license number of a car that had been used in a brief scene in a recent movie. Miraculously, or at least so it seemed to me, I saw clearly in my mind’s eye the scene that the radio announcer referred to. I saw it with such clarity that I could read the license number. Once again I had sufficient funds to pay my rent.
As that first school year drew to a close, I again found myself without enough money to pay my tithing and my last month’s rent. I paid the tithing, hoping to find some extra work I could do somewhere to earn money. I was concerned because my already busy schedule did not provide much in the way of extra time, and I did not want to be late in paying Sister Knight. The day that my rent was due, there was a knock at my door. When I opened the door, Don Wood, a member of the BYU football team, was standing in the doorway. He handed me an envelope that he told me he had received earlier that evening from his father, President Charles W. Wood, then first counselor in the Union Oregon Stake presidency. President Wood had asked Don to deliver the envelope to me. Don had said he would be seeing me at school the following Monday or Tuesday, but President Wood had replied, “No, you take it to him tonight. As my plane was landing in Boise, I was impressed that Jim needed some help. I think he needs it now, and I want you to deliver this envelope to him tonight.”
I had never spoken to President Wood nor, to the best of my memory, to Sister Knight or any other person concerning my lack of funds. As the oldest of seven children from a very poor family, I had always been aware I could not expect any financial assistance from my family. The experiences I had already had my first year at BYU had greatly solidified my testimony of tithing.
Recalling all this in my mind, I thanked Don for delivering the message and envelope. Slowly I opened it; inside was $20.

On a personal basis, my desire to stay connected with Carol while we were long-distance dating—she at BYU and I at San Diego State—led to many letters and expensive long-distance phone calls. Those are some things that now you only read about in history books.
What happened is that just prior to dating Carol, I had what I thought was a brilliant idea for a poor college student to earn some extra money. In the early 1980s, interest rates on very conservative investments were actually higher than the interest rates you would pay for a student loan. I obtained the loan and placed the money in a ­savings account, with the plan to make money on the difference between what I would earn and what I would pay. What I had not counted on was the cost of long-distance phone calls to Carol, which over several months used up the entire student loan. So instead of interest being earned to offset interest on the student loan, I now owed the entire amount of the loan, plus interest.
However, there was a significant upside. Those long-distance phone calls and bills, which don’t exist today, allowed me to stay connected with Carol and resulted in my marrying my eternal companion in 1984. Not a bad investment after all! You can tell [from this photo] that I thought I had just scored. And I absolutely did.

Growing up, I heard magnificent stories about H?k?le‘a and I remember building the canoe out of brown paper bags and popsicle sticks in kindergarten at L?‘ie Elementary School. As my mother mentioned in the introduction, the ocean is a special place to me. Even though I didn’t become a professional surfer, I have been involved with water-related projects over the years at the Smithsonian Institution, National Council of Teachers of Mathematics, and East-West Center. About two decades ago while I was a student at the East-West Center, master navigator Nainoa Thompson asked me to help take care of the canoes, assist with education, and support the mission, “to perpetuate the art and science of traditional Polynesian voyaging and the spirit of exploration through experiential educational programs that inspire students and their communities to respect and care for themselves, each other, and their natural and cultural environments.”

For the first five years, I didn’t sail on any canoe or escort boat. It was never a goal for me to sail. Instead, I scrubbed the hulls, cleaned the sails, sanded the deck, and loved talking story with crew members. As part of preparation, we also went through medical, safety, physical, cultural, and educational training, to name a few. Then, a couple of years before we departed on the M?lama Honua Worldwide Voyage, my teacher Nainoa Thompson asked me to be an apprentice navigator on the first international leg from Hawaii to Tahiti. I honestly thought he was talking to someone else. The second time he asked me to be an apprentice navigator, I thought deeply about this lifelong commitment. The third time, he didn’t ask. My teacher told me, “You’re ready, let’s go.”

I recall that evening vividly when Nainoa Thompson invited me to talk story. We ended up walking at a sand bar on the south shore of O‘ahu and watched H?k?le‘a (Hawai‘i’s zenith star Arcturus) rising in the heavens. He gave me profound wisdom that I will remember for the rest of my life. He said, “Linda, you need to be prepared and have a vision. If you don’t, someone will take it away from you, or they will give you theirs.” The voyage from Hawai‘i to Tahiti was the first time for 9 of the 13 H?k?le‘a crew members to cross the equator by canoe. I used to fear the storm, but now I respect and embrace it because I know it is an opportunity to reach within and find what we are willing to sail for.

A true story from Finland.
Phoebe’s heart fluttered like snowflakes. Today was Christmas Eve! Grandma and Grandpa would be here soon. The Christmas tree sparkled. Phoebe tiptoed around the tree and looked at the colorful gifts beneath it. She wondered what her present would be!
Mom and Dad were busy in the kitchen making yummy food. It smelled so good! There were Finnish meatballs, casseroles, and gingerbread cookies. Mmm!
“Is it time for presents yet?” Phoebe asked.
“Not yet. We’re going to watch a video about Jesus first,” Dad said. “Christmas is when we celebrate Jesus Christ’s birthday.”
Everyone gathered to watch a video about baby Jesus. Phoebe watched quietly.
“Jesus wasn’t born in a hospital,” Phoebe said. “He was born in a stable with grass and animals!”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “Jesus is God’s special gift to us. He came to show us how much God loves us.”
Phoebe felt warm and happy inside. She thought about Jesus and how much He loved her. She knew He was the most special gift of all.
Illustrations by Violet Lemay

Kumifonua (Fonua) Taumoepenu found that the strength of conviction may come even after periods of loss and inactivity. Shortly after his baptism in 1995, Fonua served in many positions in the Church. He also worked for a soft drink company and was very successful, rising quickly through the ranks. But he was frequently away from home and found himself slowly moving away from his spiritual convictions. After a time he even began engaging in activities he knew he shouldn’t.
One day Fonua ran into a group of men who, though unprovoked, beat him so badly he had to be taken to the hospital. While there Fonua began to reflect on his life and the poor decisions he had made. “I realized something was wrong with the way I was living,” he says. “My example caused my children to make poor decisions too. They were doing things they shouldn’t do.”
Fonua decided it was time to change. He worked hard to repent, became worthy to enter the temple, and began attending regularly. One evening in the temple, he reflected on his life. “I knew I was worthy to be there,” he says, “but I felt uncomfortable. I looked back on my life and evaluated what I had done. I had not been a good servant of the Lord. And I needed answers too. I wanted a new job that would make it easier to stay clean.”
Fonua had just been offered a well-paying job in New Zealand. His family had encouraged him to take it because such jobs were hard to come by. “But I worried about leaving my family in Tonga and about how I would stay clean living so far away,” he says.
While in the temple, Fonua offered his heart in prayer to Heavenly Father. “I made a commitment to myself and to God that I would do what He wants for me. It was different from any commitment I had ever made before. And I received an answer there in the temple about how I could permanently change my life.”
Instead of taking the job in New Zealand, Fonua decided to stay in Tonga and look for better work. During this time, he was called as a temple worker. As he served faithfully, he says, “the Lord blessed me for righteous choices.” Fonua soon gained a major contract cleaning buildings. “It was a tremendous blessing. I could stay in Tonga with my family, take care of them, and serve in the temple.
“All that I have, all my blessings, come from being a servant of the Lord. I will never forget that moment in the temple. Even my children have been blessed. Before, they had caused a lot of trouble for Church members. But they’ve changed. They participate in church. There’s a great happiness in our home now—all because of the Lord.”

By Peter V. Hilton
“We’re going to discuss section 64 tomorrow, so you had better read section 64 tonight!” As always, Sister Dorff was adamant.
Early-morning seminary. To my sophomore mind, the idea was laughable. Between writing, directing, and acting in my own play, trumpet lessons, piano practice, and eight high school classes every day, there was barely time to sleep. But guilt won out over math, and I decided to put scripture study in the 25th hour of my daily allotment of 24.
“Who read their scriptures?” Sister Dorff asked the next morning. She was answered by a smattering of raised hands. “Tell me what you read.”
“Well …” I blinked away the morning bleariness. “It was the word of God, as revealed to Joseph Smith.” Nobody had a better answer; Sister Dorff scowled. More lecture, more please-read-your-scriptures.
It was the same the next morning. “Who read their scriptures?” Again, a couple of hands went up. “Well, our lesson is going to take two days, so congratulations! You have no reading tonight.” Tired cheers went up. “The rest of you need to not ‘procrastinate the day of your repentance.’” Then she added, “Please read your scriptures.”
That night, I didn’t feel quite right about going to bed without my nightly chapter of reading, so I grabbed my Book of Mormon and opened to Mosiah 6, a chapter only seven verses long. I was elated! Rather than staying up past midnight to half-digest hefty chunks of doctrine, I could breeze through this chapter in under a minute.
I thought I’d discovered a great way to go to bed. Every night I read the same short chapter. I was reading my scriptures daily. I was a good Church member, I told myself. The speed-read-flop-and-drop worked wonders for fatigue until one Monday night. I got to bed a couple of hours earlier than normal. That meant I was more awake as Mosiah 6 once again stared back up at me.
“And it came to pass that there was not one soul, except it were little children, but who had entered into the covenant and had taken upon them the name of Christ.
“… That thereby they might hear and know the commandments of God, and to stir them up in remembrance of the oath which they had made” (vv. 2–3).
There it was. The sacramental covenant, its elements recorded in Mosiah.
With a few hours of sleep separating me from the next seminary lesson, I realized that I had renewed that same covenant just the day before. Every Sunday, I took the sacrament and promised to take Christ’s name upon me. I really wanted to—that’s why I got up for seminary—but there was a difference between getting up and waking up. I winced, realizing I wasn’t holding up my end of the covenant. Here I was promising to always remember the Lord and keep His commandments, and instead of meditating, I was vegetating.
I started over. After a prayer, I turned to the beginning of the Book of Mormon. “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents, therefore I was taught somewhat in all the learning of my father.” The words seemed to be full of meaning. I, Peter, was born of Heavenly Parents and had been taught God’s word, even if it had only begun to sink in. That night, I caught up in my seminary reading all the way to Doctrine and Covenants 84.
“Tell me about what you read.” Sister Dorff’s familiar question greeted us the next morning.
“Mosiah,” I answered, winning a friendly scowl from the teacher. “I mean, I read the assigned Doctrine and Covenants scriptures too, but what I read first last night stuck with me. The Book of Mormon is true!”
Sister Dorff smiled. “What did you read?”
“Well, I started with Mosiah 6, then 1 Nephi, and then I felt the Spirit! It was just like that quote from President Ezra Taft Benson where he says there is a power that will enter our lives the moment we begin a serious study of the Book of Mormon.” I grinned at my classmates. “It was so cool. I felt that power last night.”
From then on, I was glad to tell Sister Dorff about what I had read. I had gained a testimony of scripture study.

Our family has a tradition when we go to bed at night. We have a spiritual time where we read something from the scriptures or the Friend, sing a Primary song, and say a prayer together.
We decided to read the Book of Mormon children’s book with pictures. The last chapter talks about Moroni putting the gold plates in a stone box and burying them in the ground for someone to find someday. He wrote a promise to whoever reads the plates that if they ask Heavenly Father about the words written on the gold plates, they will find out the words are true and come from Heavenly Father.
At the end of the book, there’s a painting of a little boy kneeling by his bed, praying. Dad showed us the picture and told us that when he was young, he also prayed about the Book of Mormon and found out that it was true. He said that Heavenly Father doesn’t usually speak to us with words. Instead, He speaks to our hearts and minds with feelings from the Holy Ghost.
After we finished reading, we sang a Primary song. Then I asked Dad if I could be the one to say the prayer. I knelt next to my bed with my dad and my little brother. During the prayer, I asked Heavenly Father if the Book of Mormon is true. I felt warm inside and very good.
After the prayer I told my dad how I felt. He told me that he felt the same way and that Heavenly Father was speaking to us to let us know that what we just read was true.
That’s how I know the scriptures are true.

I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was 20 years old. I was in my second year of community college and trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I learned the fruits of the gospel by watching the example of others who didn’t even know I was paying attention. I learned the godly attributes of kindness, patience, perseverance, forgiveness, integrity, and so much more, by being in spaces with people who were striving to be like the Savior. After serving a full-time mission, I applied and was accepted to BYU–Hawaii. My twin sister, Leilani, and younger sister, Tiffany, also joined the Church and graduated from this university.

Brothers and Sisters, I want to pause here to share my incredible love with you. I've yet to meet all of you and yet I love you. When I was a student here at BYU–Hawaii, I was amazed by the talent and heart that was in every one of my friends, my classmates, and my professors. I didn't know what to expect when I had joined the Church, went on a mission and came home to Hawaii. I lived in Hawaii prior to joining the Church without knowing God and when I learned of him, it was life-changing to know that I'm a child of God, that I was loved no matter what. This changed the entire trajectory of my life.
Serving a mission gave me the opportunity to be loved by strangers, people I just met in England and Wales, and people along the way. I got to stand tall in these new beliefs. These new beliefs that had touched my heart and had made me a different person. When I came here to this incredible place, I was surrounded by so many good people, and they didn't even know how much they impacted my life for good. When I stand here today and I see you, I see a mirror of that time. Good people doing good things, striving to be their best. I want to thank you for giving your heart and soul to God, to this institution, and to the future that looks so bright.

First, be sure that prayer is a daily part of your life. When I was in Manti, I milked one or two cows each day in our old barn, which had a big hayloft. In addition to my bedside, that barn was a good place to go for secret prayer. Before I decided to go on a mission, and before I found the scriptures that helped me to do right, I had some very sincere sessions of prayer in that hayloft. I came away from those sessions with a sure knowledge that I needed to put my life in order so I could serve the Lord.

I heard President Grant on several occasions before I met him. As teenage boys, my brother and I came to this Tabernacle at conference when there was room for anybody who wished to come. As boys are wont to do, we sat in the balcony at the very far end of the building. To me it was always impressive when this tall man stood to speak. Some kind of electricity passed through my boyish frame. His voice rang out in testimony of the Book of Mormon. When he said it was true, I knew it was true. He spoke with great power on the Word of Wisdom and, without hesitation, promised blessings to the people if they would observe it. I have often thought of the human misery, the pain that has resulted from the smoking of cigarettes, the poverty that has resulted from the drinking of liquor which might have been avoided had his prophetic counsel been followed.
He spoke on the law of tithing. I can still hear his great testimony of this principle. He spoke of the fast offering and said, as I remember him from my boyhood days, that if all the world would observe this simple principle, which came as a revelation from God, the needs of the poor over the earth would be met without taxing the people for welfare purposes.
He warned against the enslavement of personal debt. The world at that time was on a reckless pursuit of riches. Then came Black Thursday of November 1929. I was nineteen years of age, a student at the university. I saw the economy crumble. I saw men whom I knew lose everything as their creditors moved against them. I saw much of the trauma and the stress of the times. I thought then, and I have thought since, how so many people might have been saved pain and misery, suffering, embarrassment, and trouble had they listened to the counsel of a prophet concerning personal debt.

Then, the summer before his senior season, the time suddenly came for Eli to make a decision. That summer USA Today published an article that ranked the top professional prospects among college football players. To his surprise, Eli found his name on the list. It dawned on him how much money he could be making playing football the next year, and he knew he had to make a decision.
It was not an easy one. Eli knew that something he had often dreamed of since elementary school was within reach. He considered all the things that he could do with the money he would make as a professional football player: he could put his children through school and pay for their missions; he could have a retirement fund; he could go on as many missions with his wife as he wanted; he could teach and coach and not have any financial worries. He would be set.
On one hand there were good people who were active in the Church and who did a lot of good for the Church who played professional sports on Sunday. On the other hand, Eli had seen some very powerful examples of people who had refused to break the Sabbath.
One was Erroll Bennett, one of the top soccer players in Tahiti, whom Eli read about one day on his mission. When Brother Bennett joined the Church, he decided to withdraw from his team because he chose not to play on the Sabbath. When Eli read the story and saw how dedicated Brother Bennett was to the gospel, he was impressed. He says, “I knew I wanted to be a man like that, with that kind of commitment and dedication to what I knew was right.”
Eli discussed his choices with the people most important to him. His mother always reminded him of the commandment to keep the Sabbath day holy. His father, who had worked hard trying to support his family, told him to consider the decision carefully, reminding Eli how the money would help him support his wife and children. His wife, Jennifer, had received a paper in school full of quotations from leaders of the Church about the Sabbath day. Together they studied those and talked about the decision, but Jennifer and Eli’s parents all said that the decision was his and they would support him however he decided.
Eli talked to many other people. Some told him to play; some said maybe he shouldn’t. But Eli knew that talking to others wouldn’t make the decision for him. “When you’re considering giving up hundreds of thousands or millions of dollars,” he says, “it’s probably not something you’re going to do just because you’ve talked to someone.”
He knew that he would have to make the decision himself after praying to his Heavenly Father. Eli recalls: “It occurred to me to pray and fast about it because of what my parents taught me. … During the rest of the summer and through the next football season, all my scripture study and all my prayers and everything were focused on what the best decision would be. This lasted about six months. I didn’t make the final decision until the season was over at the end of December.”
That was an intense six months. Eli says: “I don’t think in my life other than sometimes on my mission I ever had the scriptures come to life for me as they did during that period of time. … I saw things I had never seen or understood before.”
One day, for example, he was reading in the Book of Mormon about Alma counseling his son Helaman. Alma urges his son: “O remember, remember, my son Helaman, how strict are the commandments of God. And he said: If ye will keep my commandments ye shall prosper in the land—but if ye keep not his commandments ye shall be cut off from his presence. … Therefore I command you, my son Helaman, that ye be diligent … in keeping the commandments of God as they are written” (Alma 37:13, 20).
The phrase “as they are written” particularly struck Eli. He knew the key to being in the Lord’s presence and to prospering was to keep the commandments “as they are written”—with exactness. Eli understood that to have financial security and other blessings for his family, “it was a more sure thing to keep the commandments and trust in the Lord than to have a million dollars.”
As the months progressed toward the end of the season, Eli became more sure of what he had to do. “I read my scriptures, and time after time I would see more and more and more reasons that I felt in my heart that I needed to observe the Sabbath more than I needed to play football,” Eli says.
When he finally made the decision, it was easy. He laughs now about all the attention he received: “I had been on the offensive line my whole career, and it’s not like a lineman gets a lot of recognition. I got so much more recognition for making that decision than I ever got for playing football. People wrote me, telling me what they thought about the decision I had made, good or bad. I never got so much mail in my life.”
Some people asked whether he had considered all the factors, and some asked if he had thought of all the money he could make. Eli laughs, “One of the most interesting things to me was that people would say, Haven’t you thought of this and this, when I had been thinking about it for ten years and had considered those things maybe a million and a half times.” The letters were entertaining, but they didn’t change his mind or cause him to reconsider. He had been very careful in making his decision, and once he made it he was firm.
Now Eli is doing what he has wanted to do for a long time—he is teaching and coaching in a local high school. Teachers aren’t famous for their high salaries, and sometimes the money is a little short. But Eli smiles about it: “The paychecks now, in spite of being low, are more than we were making when we were students. We’re happy to have more than we had before. Occasionally I think we could have a brand-new car or a nice house, but I have never had any serious doubts about the decision.”
He gathers his family around the room as he talks about the decision that has made such a difference in their lives. His daughter Hannah plays on the floor while his wife, Jennifer, holds the baby, Sarah. They don’t have the new house, car, and retirement fund, but they’re happy. Eli has come a long way from the boy who sometimes sneaked in to watch football on Sundays. Now he is a father who, like his own father and like Alma long ago, is determined to teach his children the commandments “as they are written” and to help them be covenant people of the Lord.