Gospel Story Finder

Some young women in Kansas received a lesson on modesty and its relationship to covenants and keeping them. They thought about what they could do. They remembered that the parents of the Ammonite 2,000 stripling warriors had repented of their warlike ways and covenanted with the Lord. They had buried their swords and weapons of war in connection with their covenant. These young women decided that they would go to their closets and take out any immodest clothing. They didn’t want to be the cause of anyone else being immodest, so they took their clothes out to the yard and buried them! Their outward actions reflected their inward desires. They desired to be covenant keepers.

Last year, as I was battling cancer for the fourth time and going through treatment, the women’s soccer team came up with the “Carolyn Can” campaign, believing that if anyone could beat cancer, it was me. Coach Jennifer Rockwood purchased shirts for everyone to wear.
Words cannot express how inspiring this act was for me. Every day was a struggle for me to get out of bed and choose to fight. I would dread going to radiation. But often it was in those moments of discouragement that I would receive a text reminding me that “Carolyn can” or that I would see the girls wearing their shirts and their yellow wristbands. Their hope, faith, and energy, which was so contagious, would provide the strength I needed to continue to fight.
Not every day was this simple. There were many days when I didn’t have a bounce in my step or when it was hard to smile or laugh, and I found on those days that my victory was simply just to endure the day. But because the women’s soccer team lifted and served me, I found the energy to make it through each day and to stay yoked with my Savior, who carried enough of my load so I could continue to press forward.

When I finished telling this story in the Sunday School class, a member who had recently returned from his mission asked me where I had served.

“In the Japan Sapporo Mission,” I answered.

“Was it in Asahikawa that you helped this child?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered.

Then he said, “The child in your story was baptized by my companion. One week after the baptism, I was transferred to Asahikawa and I met him. He mentioned that a missionary had saved him from drowning in a river.”

The Lord guides us in miraculous ways. It was not mere chance that my companion felt inspired to work in a distant area that afternoon despite his difficulty with walking or that we walked along the river at just the right moment.

Now the young man who was saved wants to be a missionary, just like the one who saved him. I thought I had completed my mission 14 years ago, but when this young man goes on a mission, in a sense my mission will continue.

I can’t be certain, but I think that it was in the summer of 1948 when I had my first BYU experience. I would have been seven years old. We were driving back to St. George in a 1941 Plymouth from one of our rare trips to Salt Lake City. As we came down old highway 91, I saw high on the side of one of the hills a huge block Y—white and bold and beautiful.

I don’t know how to explain that moment, but it was a true epiphany for a seven-year-old, if a seven-year-old can have an epiphany. If I had already seen that Y on the drive up or at any other time, I couldn’t remember it. That day I probably was seeing it for the first time. I believe I was receiving a revelation from God. I somehow knew that bold letter meant something special—­something special to me—and that it would one day play a significant role in my life. When I asked my mother what it meant, she said it was the emblem of a university. I thought about that for a moment, still watching that letter on the side of the hill, and then said quietly to her, “Well, it must be the greatest university in the world.”

My chance to actually get on campus came in June 1952, four years after that first sighting. That summer I accompanied my parents to one of the early leadership weeks—a precursor to what is now the immensely popular BYU Education Week held on campus.

When we are willing to serve, we strive not to complain or murmur, because we do not want to tarnish our service in any way. Complaining may be a sign of wavering commitment, or that our love for the Savior is not as it ought to be. Left unchecked, murmuring can progress to outright rebellion against the Lord. This progression is seen in the life of Ezra Booth, an early convert to the Church in Ohio who was called as a missionary to Missouri.

As he left Ohio in June 1831, Ezra was upset that some missionaries were able to travel by wagon while he had to walk in the summer heat, preaching along the way. He murmured. When he arrived in Missouri, he felt deflated. Missouri was not what he had expected. Instead, he looked around and noted that “the prospect appeared somewhat gloomy.”

Ezra became increasingly cynical, sarcastic, and critical. Upon leaving Missouri, instead of preaching as he went, as he had been asked to do, he returned to Ohio as quickly as he could. His initial murmuring evolved into wavering and finally into losing confidence in his earlier spiritual experiences. Soon Ezra left the Church and “ultimately ‘abandoned Christianity and became an agnostic.’”

I want to share an experience from my time as an undergraduate student at BYU when one of my professors acted as a sherpa or escort to me. I share this with his permission.

I had the opposite reaction to the course Economics 110 than that of most other BYU students, who can’t wait for it to be over. After taking that class, I changed my major to economics, which was great, but I didn’t really know what to do with it. I spent about a year taking classes but felt lost about what to do with economics. And even after many conversations and much study and prayer, I felt stuck in respect to where to go with the degree.

A year into the major, I did well in an econometrics course, and its instructor, James B. McDonald, asked if I would like to work for him. This began a nearly two-year period in which I met with Jim multiple times each week, working on a number of projects. We always talked econometrics, but in nearly every meeting he would also ask about my personal life and sometimes about my spiritual life.

In one of our meetings later in my time working for him, out of the blue he stopped our conversation and said there was something he needed to share. He then told me a story of how one night he had had a dream. In that dream he was shown the solution to an econometrics problem he had been working on. That dream led to a scholarly paper that was published in the then leading econometrics journal and that helped to cement Jim’s reputation in the field. Hearing the story was a spiritual experience for me, and my initial takeaway was a feeling that Jim cared for me and that this was a way for him to show me that care.

Over time I began to sense that, like Jim, I could become both a respected economist and a person of deep faith. This interaction led to actions on my part and confirmations from the Spirit that raised my sights of who I could be and what role I could play. An interesting postscript to this story is that Jim’s paper never really took off in the field of econometrics, but I have come to see that his paper had more important contributions. It allowed Jim to bear witness to many students of the fact that God is real, that He loves Jim, that He had a work for Jim to do, and that Jim’s work was largely to develop faith-filled BYU economists. Jim McDonald was an inspired escort and sherpa to a BYU undergraduate trying to find his own path.

Following the final session of general conference, we left the Conference Center, still basking in the after glory. While on the train home, a Latter-day Saint family approached us, whose soulful beauty uniquely touched our lives.

The mother, with her children, asked if they could learn more about the Jewish head covering that I was wearing. Her 14-year-old son, named Taylor, had his interest piqued by his wonderful seminary teacher. His teacher’s name, we were told, was Brother Russell, and he appears to have taught quite well on Jewish practices.

Taylor, a truly extraordinary young man, clearly had a talent for humility and soul, and the time we spent together in discussion was remarkable. The deep light of his heart was clearly nourished by his family and by his Latter-day Saint faith in Jesus Christ. That a youth of today had such humble grace and a genuine interest in the sacred of another truly leaves me with bright hope for our future.

My daughter, Yael, was also greatly taken by the beauty of Taylor’s soul. That “the eyes are the window to the soul’’ is a favorite quote of hers, and she loved Taylor for the potential she saw he could become.

For me, the encounter with Taylor and his family was a most beautiful conclusion to the glory of general conference. Two families of God were having honoring sacred dialogue, and each of us left with more reverence and belief. This is what general conference inspires. This was, for me, a general conference after-glory moment I am grateful and humbled and blessed to have received.

In the end, to our friend and dear brother Taylor, to the friend whom we met only and sadly once, please always know that our lives were deeply enhanced by our chance encounter on the train that evening. Yael and I wish you only shalom, a Hebrew word meaning “peace and wholeness.” We wish you shalom in the broadest sense of the word, as you continue on your mission to bless our world with light.

And to you, Brother Russell, my long-lost friend and seminary teacher extraordinaire, though we have never yet met, it was wonderful getting to know you through the beauty of Taylor and his holy family. And I have an extra head covering, should you ever be in need! Thank you for teaching about my faith tradition in such an honoring and lovely way. You must have done so to inspire our young friend Taylor to inquire and seek to know more about my faith. Bless you, and shalom to you always.

On August 15, 2007, Peru suffered a massive earthquake that all but destroyed the coastal cities of Pisco and Chincha. Like many other Church leaders and members, Wenceslao Conde, the president of the Balconcito Branch of the Church in Chincha, immediately set about helping others whose homes were damaged.
Four days after the earthquake, Elder Marcus B. Nash of the Seventy was in Chincha helping to coordinate the Church’s relief efforts there and met President Conde. As they talked about the destruction that had occurred and what was being done to help the victims, President Conde’s wife, Pamela, approached carrying one of her small children. Elder Nash asked Sister Conde how her children were. With a smile, she replied that through the goodness of God they were all safe and well. He asked about the Condes’ home.
“It’s gone,” she said simply.
“What about your belongings?” he inquired.
“Everything was buried in the rubble of our home,” Sister Conde replied.
“And yet,” Elder Nash noted, “you are smiling as we talk.”
“Yes,” she said, “I have prayed and I am at peace. We have all we need. We have each other, we have our children, we are sealed in the temple, we have this marvelous Church, and we have the Lord. We can build again with the Lord’s help.”

I think, for example of my dear nephew Clark who is just your age. Last year he fell in love with a beautiful girl named Megan. Clark was shy at first. He needed a little encouragement. After their first date Megan told him: “This was fun. You should ask me out again.” Well he did, and they got married in the Bountiful Temple last December. They were so in love, so full of hope. But three weeks later Megan was killed in a car accident while they were driving to a reception in Arizona and Clark was badly injured.

Over the past five months as he has been recovering from his injuries, physical and spiritual, Clark has had to cling to ultimate hope. His former proximate hopes for the reception, his return to school with Megan, a life together with her, etc. have all been dashed. Yet he still has ultimate Hope, through the atonement of Christ, in a glorious resurrection and reunion.

This past Fast Sunday Clark returned to BYU where, I was told, he blessed the sacrament and bore testimony of the hope he feels through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. His new single student ward did not know about Megan. Only his cousins in the audience knew the tragic experience that made Clark’s sweet, simple expression of hope so poignant. They knew that Clark had hope through the Atonement that he would be with Megan again and eventually understand the Lord’s purposes in his afflictions. They also knew, however, that this reunion and this understanding would likely not come in this life.

Once, while I was on a solo flight over mountain country, my airplane was suddenly engulfed in a thick cloud. I could barely see the tip of the wing out the right window. Below me, the fields, the miniature houses, and the ribbons of road wrapping up the green valley floor had vanished. A Cessna 150 has no radar, and with the familiar landmarks gone, I panicked. Was I too low? How close were the mountains? Disorientation could prove fatal.
At that instant I remembered my flight instructor’s words: “Return to remembrance of past sunshine.” I took a deep breath and coaxed the plane into a 180-degree turn. The clouds began to thin, and sunshine returned. I saw a tiny tractor below, changing a field from yellow to brown. No one heard me shout for joy.

In late December a chill mist shrouds the bare vines in the predawn darkness. The vineyard is silent except for one section, which is filled with voices and a bright, crackling bonfire. It is Christmas morning, and elsewhere in this valley, people are still warm in their beds or gathered around Christmas trees watching excited children. But not the small group in the vineyard. They have come to give a gift.
To understand the meaning of the gift, you must know that this vineyard in Madera, California, USA, is part of the Church’s welfare production system. Each year it produces about 400,000 pounds (180,000 kg) of raisins. Half of the harvest goes to the shelves of bishops’ storehouses. The rest is used for humanitarian response around the world. Wards and branches from eight stakes are assigned certain tasks to complete and rows of vines to care for.
One crucial task is pruning the vines. The tangle of the past season’s growth must be cut out, leaving just the few canes that will grow to produce the next harvest. Without this dormant-season pruning, the vineyard becomes overgrown. Too many vines overwhelm the roots’ ability to sustain them. Too little fruit is produced, and the harvest is greatly diminished.
Why do this work on Christmas day? Because many of the ward members are fieldworkers by trade, pruning vineyards and orchards for their livelihood. Their work is intensive at this time of year, so this is the only day they have off in several weeks. It’s Christmas—and they spend it here in the Church’s vineyard. In fact, they have come here 8 of the past 15 Christmases. For these members of the Spanish-speaking Madera Third Ward, it is their gift to El Niño—to the Christ child.
One worker, Miguel Chavez, explains that it’s a way of giving something back for all of the blessings they receive from the Lord: “We are giving something to needy families. Our small contribution becomes a great blessing to other people.” Another ward member says simply, “This is the best work we can do because this is God’s vineyard.”
And so, on this particular Christmas day, once these members of the Madera Third Ward finish pruning, wrapping, and tying their assigned vines, they finish parts of two neighboring wards’ rows. It is a gift fit for a King.

He began his address by telling a true baseball story he said he was reminded of sometime earlier while watching a TV program on PBS. He said the event occurred in the World Series of 1912 between the Boston Red Sox and the New York Giants. It was an eight-game series because one of the games had been called at midpoint because of darkness. Playing fields were not electrically lighted at that time. It was the last game, and the score was tied 1-1. The Red Sox were at bat. A Boston batter knocked a high fly. Two New York players ran for it. Fred Snodgrass at center field signaled to the other player that he would make the catch. He came squarely under the ball, which fell into his glove, but then went right on through and fell to the ground. As you can imagine, a howl went up in the stands. The roaring fans couldn't believe that Snodgrass had dropped the ball. He had caught hundreds of fly balls before; but now, at this crucial moment, he dropped the ball in a World Series game. The New York Giants lost the game and the Red Sox won the series. President Hinckley said that Fred Snodgrass came back the following season and played brilliant ball for nine more years. He lived to be eighty-six years old, dying in 1974. However, after that one slip in 1912, for the next sixty-two years when he was introduced to anybody, the expected response was always, "Oh, yes, you're the one who dropped the ball during the World Series with the Red Sox."

Thirty-three years ago, I received my call to serve as a missionary in the Utah Ogden Mission. Of course, because I was coming from Europe, some local Utah traditions like “green Jell-O with carrots” and “funeral potatoes” were a bit peculiar to me!
However, I was deeply impressed by the devotion and discipleship of many of the Saints, the sheer number of people attending Church meetings, and the scale of fully functioning Church programs. When my mission came to an end, I wanted to make sure that the joy I felt and the spiritual strength and maturity I observed would also be available for my future family. I was determined to return quickly to live my life in the “shadows of the everlasting hills.”
However, the Lord had different plans. On my first Sunday at home, my wise bishop called me to serve as the Young Men president in our ward. Serving this wonderful group of young men, I quickly learned that the joy that comes from being a disciple of Christ has very little to do with the size of Church meetings or the scale of programs.
So when I married my beautiful wife, Margret, we joyfully decided to stay in Europe and raise our family in our home country of Germany. Together we witnessed what President Russell M. Nelson taught many years ago: “The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.” When the focus of our life is on Christ and His gospel message, we can experience the full blessings of discipleship wherever we live.

George Gilman, 16, Joe Vance, 16, and Kirk Moses, 16, all attend the Vancouver Eighth Ward, Vancouver Washington West Stake. They each served alongside the full-time missionaries for one week.

“We were out tracting and had been turned down five times in a row,” Kirk said. “Then a woman answered the door and invited us in. She said she’d been looking at a lot of different churches and she listened to everything we said. Then she asked if we could come back again the next day. The full-time missionaries have been teaching her ever since!”

Ouch! Have you ever been caught by a jumping cactus? Cholla cactus segments “jump” off to stick to your clothes, skin, or whatever else they can get their spiny claws into.
The LDS youth of New Mexico know how difficult it is to detach themselves from a prickly cactus. They got some extra practice though, as they cleaned the temple site in preparation for the Albuquerque Temple groundbreaking. Armed with shovels, rakes, and gloves, youth from four stakes assembled on a hot Saturday morning to rid the property of sagebrush, garbage, and cholla, so the weeds could be mowed and the ground would be safe to walk on for those attending the groundbreaking.
“It was hard work, but it was totally worth it for the temple to come,” says Robyn Sampson, 15.
Before the temple plans were approved, the youth fasted and prayed for a solution to the problems the temple’s project manager faced when he presented the plans to city officials. Now they say they are fasting and praying for the temple builders. But the prayers and the cleanup are only part of the work the young people of Albuquerque are doing in preparation for the temple. They are also working to make certain their own lives are clean.
Despite the burrs on their socks and an occasional scare from a snake or lizard, the Albuquerque youth succeeded in clearing the future temple site of every spiny cactus and broken bottle in sight. It might seem strange, but the youth actually enjoyed pulling cactuses and loading trucks full of sagebrush.
“We’re just so happy we will have a temple here. We thought it would never happen,” says Rosalie Campbell, 12.
Amber Chee, 17, looks forward to doing baptisms for the dead and getting married in the Albuquerque Temple someday. “It was really fun coming here. I felt the Spirit,” she says.
Both Rosalie and Amber have been to the temple to do baptisms for the dead before, but opportunities for trips to out-of-state temples come only once a year for the Albuquerque youth. They have to travel for at least eight hours to get to a temple in Denver, Colorado, or Mesa, Arizona, so they can do baptisms for the dead.
“Temples were always a faraway thing,” says Neil Peterson. As 16-year-old Neil wipes his brow, he says he enjoys helping out with something so important, even if it’s hard work.
Michelle Williams, besides concentrating on the cactus plants, was also thinking about what it will mean to have a temple in her area and about why she was cleaning up the temple site. “It’s very symbolic,” she says. “You have to be clean yourself to go to the temple.”
Logan King just turned in his mission papers and is waiting for his call. He won’t be able to go to the Albuquerque Temple before his mission, but he realizes the importance of having a temple close by and being worthy to attend it. “We need to clean all the cactuses out of our lives before we can go to the temple,” he says.
Researching family history is another way the Albuquerque youth are preparing for the temple. Many of them are more excited about doing family history now since they will soon have a temple in their area. Albuquerque’s Family History Center missionaries, Sister Wilcox and Sister Hatfield, say the temple will really strengthen the youth. Sister Wilcox says with the large number of young people in the area, there’s a “big push for genealogy.”
Sarah Sego, 17, loves doing baptisms for the dead and can’t wait for the temple to be built so she can continue to do baptisms. “I know it’s the right thing to do, because all those people are waiting,” she says.
Sarah is also helping others to learn more about why she loves going to the temple so much. She tells her friends about the temple and even tactfully shared her testimony of temple work with her high school current events class.
Sarah is not alone in her missionary efforts. Many Church members are having more and more opportunities to explain the gospel to others because of the temple.
“I think the temple will make people notice us more,” says Lisa Willis, 14, who also says she’s been telling her friends all about the temple. “The best part [of building a temple] is having people ask about it.”
Albuquerque’s full-time missionaries were also at the cleanup working hard. They say members in the area feel the temple will bring many blessings to them and to all the people of Albuquerque.
“While tracting, we stopped by a house and a woman opened the door and said, ‘Hey, I heard you guys are building one of those temples.’ That allowed us to get in the door and talk to her about the Church,” says Elder Moyer, from California. Many of the missionaries had similar stories.
The temple will actually be built in a valley where it can still be seen from faraway. In fact, it’s the same valley the Mormon Battalion came through on its famous march from the Missouri River to California. Coincidentally, the number of youth at the cleanup was about the same as the number of men who were in the Mormon Battalion.
At the groundbreaking ceremony, many young people who had been at the cleanup also sang in the youth chorus. The strains of “High on the Mountain Top” and “Holy Temples on Mount Zion” rang out over the crowd of thousands which gathered to see the temple ground dedicated.
“We all joined together to celebrate our temple,” says Tyler Lindsey, 16. “I knew that it was right and the ground was holy. I don’t know if we sounded good, but the Spirit was there.”
The Spirit is there. The spirit of service, of missionary work, and of love can be felt strongly in Albuquerque. Whether pulling cactuses or doing baptisms for the dead, the youth of Albuquerque are carrying out the Lord’s work with His Spirit to help them. The youth don’t know all the ways the temple will continue to change their lives, but they are looking forward to that day in the year 2000 when they can visit the Lord’s house in their own city.

Near the end of last year, I learned of the passing of a dear couple, Mario and Regina Emerick, who were very faithful to the Lord and passed away four days apart from one another due to complications from COVID-19.

One of their sons, who is currently serving as a bishop in Brazil, related the following to me: “It was so difficult to see my parents depart from this world in that condition, but I could clearly feel the hand of the Lord in my life amidst that tragedy, because I received strength and peace that transcended my understanding. Through my faith in Jesus Christ and His Atonement, I received divine help to strengthen and comfort my family members and all those who helped us during this trying experience. Even though the miracle that everyone hoped for did not occur, personally I am a witness of many other miracles that have occurred in my own life and in the lives of my family members. I felt an inexplicable peace that penetrated the depths of my heart, giving me hope and confidence in the love of the Savior for me and in the plan of happiness of God for His children. I learned that on the very most grief-filled days, the loving arms of the Savior are always extended when we seek Him with all our heart, power, mind, and strength.”

Shortly before I graduated from high school, a seemingly small miracle happened, an event that would turn my life in another direction. Despite the distance between my actions and gospel standards, one Sunday morning I followed a strong prompting to go to church and pay tithing. When I arrived at the chapel, I asked for people I knew. One of the names I gave was the Young Men president I had when I was a deacon, the last time I had attended church. He was now serving as bishop of the ward.
That good bishop helped bring me back into the Church. I confessed my sins, and he worked with me to set up a progress plan. Over several months I repented. I advanced in the priesthood. I held a calling. I was doing so well, in fact, that I was called to serve a mission, and I had a period of several years when my addiction was under control.
When I returned home from my mission, I did not struggle with pornography; I simply did not have access to it. That changed in the late 1990s, when the Internet became increasingly pervasive. I accidentally stumbled across some pornographic images online, and I returned to pornographic sites over and over again during the following months. The web had ensnared me.
I wanted to reach out to someone for help, but I wasn’t sure whom—or how. How could I talk to my parents about this? How could I admit to my bishop that even though I had made so much progress, I couldn’t stop engaging in this immoral behavior? I desperately wanted to stop, but I was too embarrassed by my weakness to confide in anyone, so I kept my addiction to myself.
I didn’t even tell my wife, whom I married in 2000. I wanted to tell her about my struggle when we were dating, but I was terrified that she would look down on me or, worse yet, refuse to marry me. So I lied. And I continued to do so in our marriage. I found myself being sneaky to prevent being caught. I hid pictures on my computer. When my wife asked me about particular Internet links, I denied knowing what she was talking about. Addictions are like that; they create great liars. I knew it was creating a wedge in our marriage and causing her great pain, but I would not acknowledge that I had a problem. What mattered most to me was not my behavior but how people perceived me.
My double life—and the resulting loss of the Spirit—made me vulnerable to increasingly serious sins, including infidelity. My wife had strong impressions that something was wrong and told me about them. With great remorse, I admitted to what I had done.
That was my lowest point, the point at which I realized that I had to change. Sitting across from me was the woman I loved. She loved me. I had betrayed her. I determined then to do whatever it took to save our relationship and our family.
I began meeting with my bishop regularly in working through the repentance process and Church discipline. He recommended I attend meetings of the addiction recovery program, offered through LDS Family Services. I had never heard of the program. I learned that the group held free, confidential meetings based on the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, adapted into a framework of the doctrines and principles of the Church.
I admit that during the first few meetings, I thought, “I don’t need to be here. I don’t really have a problem with pornography. I can quit any time.” That, of course, wasn’t true.
With my bishop’s encouragement, I continued to attend. My pride began to melt away, and I began to work the steps of the program: honesty, hope, trust in God, truth, confession, change of heart, humility, seeking forgiveness, restitution and reconciliation, daily accountability, personal revelation, and service. For the first time in a long time, I was living a “sober” life, a life free of pornography. Recovery isn’t ever really “over,” but I had been introduced to a new level of freedom. It came because as I participated in the 12 steps, I came to understand what was behind my addiction.
I learned that most people battling addictions have turned to some kind of “self-medication” to fill the voids they feel in their lives. Pain, sorrow, loneliness, fear, or other kinds of discomfort can act as triggers that can entice people to use this self-medication to make them feel better. Some people use prescription drugs. Others use illicit drugs. Others use alcohol. For me, pornography offered the short-term, artificial “quick fix” I thought I needed.
Knowing what triggered my addiction was one thing. Avoiding environments that aided my addiction was another. This stance requires being vigilant 24 hours a day, seven days a week for the rest of my life. I cannot get online “just to browse.” In fact, if I am by myself, I don’t go online at all. I can’t look at an ad and entertain thoughts in my mind. We don’t have cable TV in our home. When I commute to work, I avoid taking certain roads because I know there are billboards along those roads that could trigger inappropriate thoughts. If I start to slip and my mind begins to wander, I turn to my wife, to my bishop, and to prayer for strength.
My addiction affects the most minute parts of my life, but taking these precautions is worth it. I cannot neglect these defenses because I know what my addiction can do to me and to those I love.
It’s not just a matter of avoiding the bad, though. I also must make constant, conscious efforts to turn to the good. Several of the 12 steps have helped me do this by bringing me closer to God.
Every day when I wake up, I get on my knees and thank Heavenly Father for giving me the opportunity to repent of my sins and to come to Him through the Atonement of His Son, Jesus Christ. I ask Him to let me know His will so that I can do it. I ask Him to lead me away from temptation. I pray as though I rely on Heavenly Father every minute of the day—because I do—and I keep that prayer in my heart throughout the day. I pray again each night. I also spend some time in the scriptures daily so that I can focus my thoughts on virtuous things. If I don’t make these a habit, I don’t have the Spirit in my life. And left on my own, I am not strong enough to resist temptation.
For a long time I believed I could overcome my behavior anytime I wanted to by my own willpower. But I failed miserably. After a while I got tired of doing it on my own, especially when “on my own” wasn’t working. I realized that I could not do what I needed to do without the Lord’s help. Ether 12:27 helped me understand this better. The Lord told Moroni, “My grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”
Once I went to Him, still doing all I could do (see 2 Nephi 25:23), I realized that I could do much better and become much more with His help than I ever could dream of by relying on my own merits (see Alma 7:14).
My wife and I now serve as facilitators at the addiction recovery program meetings. She has learned—and is helping others understand—that the Atonement is for not only those who are working to overcome an addiction but also those who have been affected by the addiction through no choice of their own. If we turn to the Savior, His grace can work in all of our lives.
To those who are battling addiction and to the people they love, I can attest that there is hope. There is always hope in the gospel of Jesus Christ.
I am deeply grateful to Jesus Christ because He literally saved me from the chains of sin. Addiction is like being held by chains that “bind the children of men, that they are carried away captive down to the eternal gulf of misery and woe” (2 Nephi 1:13). When I realized I was in trouble, I didn’t know where to turn. I was desperate because I could not free myself from my predicament. But the Lord could free me. When I turned to Him, He was there to help.
I can relate with Ammon: “Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things” (Alma 26:12). I know that God can help us do all things, including overcoming the chains of addiction.

When Heather decided she wanted to go out for baseball, she didn’t think twice about the fact that there are no girls’ teams in her area. Today the petite 15-year-old with long dark hair and bangs is the only girl playing on boys’ teams in her league, and she’s doing pretty well.
The Drummonds are not the most outspoken kids in the world. They’re doers rather than talkers. But they will open up if you ask. Heather, for example, will tell you that she doesn’t feel short-changed by not growing up with a mother. “I’ve lived with guys all my life, so I do the things they do,” she says. “But I also do girl things. My best friends are girls. I don’t think growing up only with guys has hurt me.” Heather has her own ways of asserting her femininity. In the dugout, for example, even though she tucks her long brown hair up under her cap and wears a bulky uniform like the rest of the players, you can’t miss her because she’s the one wearing pink lipstick. And sometimes, when the other players lose their tempers and start swearing, they’re quickly reminded that a girl is present when Heather tells them, “Hey—watch your language!” And, she says, “They usually apologize.”
“Some of the guys I play with are kind of mean,” says Heather. “They say the only reason I’m on the team is because the coach doesn’t know how to cut a girl. I have to play extra hard to overcome that. I’ve been tempted to quit, but when I am, I just tell myself I have to stick in there, because everyone would think I can’t handle it. I can handle it,” she says with conviction, and you don’t doubt her.

Some years ago I was near our front gate splitting rails for a fence. A young man came to make a delivery. He had recently returned from overseas combat duty. He had falsified his age and left school to join the Marines. When I asked about his future plans, he didn’t know. Jobs were scarce; he had no skills to offer.

I counseled him to go back to high school and get his diploma. He thought he couldn’t do that; he was too old now. “If you do it,” I told him, “you probably will not exactly fit in. And the students will call you the ‘old man’ or ‘grandpa.’ But you faced an enemy in combat; surely you’ve got the courage to face that.’

The lesson is this. I only spent ten minutes with him, sitting on a log by our front gate. I did not build a school nor ask the Church to build one. I did not pay his tuition or prepare his lessons. What he needed was some direction, some counsel, some encouragement, and some vision. In this case he took the counsel and returned to school. Now he has a family and an occupation.

I only gave him vision and encouragement. It does not take additional Church budget to do that. That is the responsible role of every priesthood leader in counseling members on careers. We must help people to help themselves.

A few weeks ago our youngest son and his wife and family stopped to see us. The first one out of the car was our two-year-old grandson. He came running to me with his arms outstretched, shouting, “Gwampa! Gwampa! Gwampa!”
He hugged my legs, and I looked down at that smiling face and those big, innocent eyes and thought, “What kind of a world awaits him?”
For a moment I had that feeling of anxiety, that fear of the future that so many parents express to us. Everywhere we go fathers and mothers worry about the future of their children in this very troubled world.
But then a feeling of assurance came over me. My fear of the future faded.
That guiding, comforting Spirit, with which we in the Church are so familiar, brought to my remembrance what I already knew. The fear of the future was gone. That bright-eyed, little two-year-old can have a good life—a very good life—and so can his children and his grandchildren, even though they will live in a world where there is much of wickedness.
They will see many events transpire in the course of their lifetime. Some of these shall tax their courage and extend their faith. But if they seek prayerfully for help and guidance, they shall be given power over adverse things. Such trials shall not be permitted to stand in the way of their progress but instead shall act as stepping-stones to greater knowledge.