Gospel Story Finder

Kind words not only lift our spirits in the moment they are given, but they can linger with us over the years. One day, when I was in college, a man seven years my senior congratulated me on my performance in a football game. He not only praised how well I had done in the game, but he had noticed that I had showed good sportsmanship. Even though this conversation happened more than 60 years ago, and even though it’s highly unlikely the person who complimented me has any recollection of this conversation, I still remember the kind words spoken to me that day by Gordon B. Hinckley, who would later become President of the Church.

It was my experience as a small boy to come under the influence of such a teacher. In our Sunday School class, she taught us concerning the Creation of the world, the Fall of Adam, and the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ.
One Sunday morning she announced sadly to us the death of a classmate’s mother. We had missed Billy that morning but knew not the reason for his absence. The lesson featured the theme, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” Midway through the lesson, our teacher closed the manual and asked, “How much money do we have in our class party fund?”
Depression days prompted a proud answer: “Four dollars and seventy-five cents.”
Then she suggested, “Billy’s family is hard-pressed and grief-stricken. What would you think of the possibility of visiting the family members this morning and giving to them your fund?”
Ever shall I remember the tiny band walking those three city blocks, entering Billy’s home, greeting him, his brother, sisters, and father. Tears glistened in the eyes of all as the white envelope containing our precious party fund passed from the hand of our teacher to the hand of a grief-stricken father. We fairly skipped our way back to the chapel. Our hearts were lighter than they had ever been, our joy more full, our understanding more profound. A God-inspired teacher had taught her boys and girls an eternal lesson of divine truth: “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

The day I played tennis for the first time was also the day I vowed never to set foot on a tennis court again.
My friend had offered to teach me how to play, and I thought it sounded like fun. I’d seen him and some other friends play before, and it didn’t look that hard.
I was right: tennis wasn’t hard—it was impossible. From the get-go, my hold on the racket felt awkward, I didn’t know how to stand, and I kept hitting the ball either too hard or too soft—that is, on the rare occasions when I actually hit the ball.
My friend tried teaching me some techniques, but no matter what I did, I wasn’t improving. On top of that, the sun was scorching hot, and I was sweating in my poor outfit choice of a gray shirt and thick black pants. An hour into it, I couldn’t handle it anymore.
“I can’t do this.” I told my friend as I sunk down onto the court. “I am the least athletic person in the world!”
He came and sat by me. “It’s OK,” he said. “We don’t have to keep going. But you can hardly beat yourself up because you aren’t Serena Williams your first day on the court. You’re just learning.”
We went home, but I thought about that day a lot after that. My friend was right—I was just learning. He had been patient with me, so why couldn’t I be patient with myself? Eventually, I broke my vow and decided to try tennis again. Guess what? I even hit a few balls over the net! So I kept at it. Now it’s one of my favorite hobbies!
We aren’t perfect. We sometimes feel scared, embarrassed, or unsure. Conditions around us can make things harder, like the hot sun did when I tried to learn tennis. In fact, with everything going on in life, it can sometimes seem impossible to just get along with ourselves.

Several years ago, President Thomas S. Monson and I were offered an opportunity to tour Air Force One—the magnificent aircraft that transports the president of the United States. There were painstaking security checks by the Secret Service, and I smiled a little as agents searched our dear prophet prior to boarding.
Then the pilot in command invited me to take the captain’s seat. It was a remarkable experience to again sit at the helm of a wonderful flying machine like the kind I had flown for so many years. Memories of flights across oceans and continents filled my heart and mind. I envisioned exciting takeoffs and landings at airports all over the world.
Almost unconsciously, I placed my hands on the four throttles of the 747. Just then, a beloved and unmistakable voice came from behind—the voice of Thomas S. Monson.
“Dieter,” he said, “don’t even think about it.”
I’m not admitting to anything, but it just may be that President Monson read my mind.

One day, a lady came to our class at school to teach about Colonial times. She said that the water they had to drink then wasn’t very healthy, so instead they drank tea. The whole class pitched in to make tea and cakes. When the time came to eat, she noticed that I ate my cake but did not drink the tea.
She asked me, “Aren’t you going to drink your tea?”
“No, thank you.”
“Everyone must drink the tea!” she said.
“I’m not allowed to drink tea,” I responded.
“Well,” she said, “tell your parents that you’re a big girl now and then drink the tea.”
My teacher overheard our conversation. She knows that I am LDS, so she came over and said, “She doesn’t have to drink the tea.”
I’m glad I stood up for what I know is right, and I know that my Heavenly Father is too.
Aubrey Potter, age 11Darien, Connecticut

In addition to the strength they find in seminary, youth in Guyana fortify themselves from other sources as well. For example, 16-year-old Michael Ramgobin of the Demerara Branch says that For the Strength of Youth is a great help to him.
“Everyone should have this,” he says, holding up his copy of the pamphlet. “It really helps you make decisions that are right.” He recommends reading it over and over again, “because it seems like every time you do, you find something new to help you.”
The only member of the Church in his family, Michael says family members support his membership because they see such a difference in him since he became a Latter-day Saint. “I feel a lot more confident as I keep learning more and more about the gospel,” Michael says. He particularly enjoys listening to general conference and attending youth conferences. “I feel I have become part of something real.”
What else has strengthened Michael in the year since he joined the Church? “Reading the scriptures. As you read, the Holy Ghost helps you see things you didn’t see before. Then with the faith you have in Jesus Christ, you find your way. That’s why my testimony keeps building every day.”
The youth in the branch help each other, too. “We share our concerns and encourage each other,” Michael says. In fact, he feels similar encouragement from everyone in the branch, and was particularly impressed when some of the missionaries presented him with a white shirt and tie.
“When I walked into church the next Sunday, everyone said, ‘Wow, you look like a real missionary.’ I feel a difference when I’m dressed that way.” A full-time mission sounds exciting, he says. It would be a good way to continue the great day that dawned when he joined the Church.

I had never struggled with my faith in the gospel of Jesus Christ until my older sister started telling me about how her views had changed. She had always had strong faith, so as I heard her words and saw that other friends were also leaving, I started wondering if the gospel really was true.
For the first time, I started to doubt what I had always believed in, and I was scared. I wasn’t sure where to turn. I would pray, read my scriptures, and seek guidance, but my faith truly felt shaken.
Soon, I had let myself drift away from the Spirit. I felt so far away from the Savior.
But seemingly out of nowhere, I was asked to organize a YSA conference for eastern European young adults and to serve as a counselor for FSY.
I was certain my stake president had chosen the wrong person—I was feeling so spiritually low. How could I uplift others when I was barely keeping myself afloat?
I didn’t want to, but I begrudgingly accepted the calling.
I learned a lot as I organized these faith-building events. What I loved most was reconnecting with young adult friends who helped me remember the faith I had before I was struggling to believe.
So many friends listened to my concerns and questions with compassion. They also shared their faith with me and kept reminding me how much my testimony had strengthened them in the past. They reminded me of how I once felt about the gospel, and I recalled profound spiritual experiences throughout my life.
I realized that while I had questions, I did want to have faith in Jesus Christ. I wanted to live the commandments, to attend the temple, to go to church, and to build and share my testimony.
When I was struggling, I had started believing that I didn’t need God. But my burdens have become lighter, and my path is much brighter as I’ve relied on Him and invited Him into my life again.
Accepting this calling was a blessing because I realized how much I had missed the Spirit in my life.

Everyone can enjoy participating in this read-aloud story. Whenever the reader mentions any of the words in italics, the listeners make the appropriate sounds:
Sean O’Riley—Hooray!
Leopold the Leprechaun or the leprechaun—clap hands
Shamrocks—Ahhh!
Pot of gold—clink, clink, clink
Trip the Trolla, or Trip—Boo! or Hiss!
Peat bog—squish, squish, squish
Sean O’Riley was walking through the forest near the little town of Clonkinny when he saw Leopold the Leprechaun sitting on a log. Big tears trickled down the leprechaun’s cheeks and splashed into a soft bed of shamrocks.
“Top o’ the mornin’ to you!” Sean O’Riley called. “Why are you cryin’ on such a beautiful mornin’ with St. Patrick’s Day comin’ tomorra?”
Leopold the Leprechaun sniffled and wiped his eyes on a bright green handkerchief. “It’ll be a sad St. Pat’s Day this year, lad. Not more than an hour ago someone stole my pot of gold!”
Sean O’Riley gasped. “’Tis a terrible thing! Who do ye suppose it was?”
“It’s in my mind that Trip the Troll has sneaked up from the peat bog,” Leopold the Leprechaun answered, “for I saw his footprints among these very shamrocks.”
“Cryin’ won’t help,” said Sean O’Riley, patting the little leprechaun’s shoulder. “Trip the Troll hasn’t had time to go far with your heavy pot of gold.”
“True, true, but what’s to be done?”
Sean O’Riley thought hard for a few minutes. “I’ve heard tell that trolls are afraid of bright, glitterin’ lights. Is it true?”
“For a fact, they are. But the only bright light today is the sun, and Trip has no fear a’that.” Leopold the Leprechaun sighed. “What’s on your mind?”
“I’ll have to run back to Clonkinny and ask all the children to help,” Sean O’Riley said. “Ay, ’tis a sure thing that Trip the Troll will take your pot of gold to the peat bog, so this is what we’ll do.”
Leopold the Leprechaun giggled and snickered after his friend unfolded a plan. He did an Irish jig over the shamrocks. “That’s a fine idea! I’ll meet ye at the peat bog.”
When Sean O’Riley explained the leprechaun’s problem all the children of Clonkinny wanted to help. They hurried to the edge of the peat bog to lie in wait for the wicked troll.
It wasn’t long before they heard him coming. Trip the Troll grunted and groaned as he shuffled along, lugging the heavy pot of gold.
“Now!” Sean O’Riley called.
The children stood up holding mirrors into the sun, and sharp, glittering shafts of bright light flickered on the troll’s face. Frightened, the wicked troll dropped the pot of gold and ran across the peat bog until he disappeared from sight.
“Sure ’tis goin’ to be a fine St. Patrick’s Day tomorra! And there’ll be a surprise for each of ye,” Leopold the Leprechaun promised as the children helped him pick up the coins that had spilled from the pot of gold.
When Sean awoke on St. Patrick’s Day, there on his pillow was a shiny golden coin and a shamrock from Leopold the Leprechaun—just as there was on the pillow of each child in Clonkinny!

Brother Ashton Garcia of the Port of Spain Trinidad Stake shared his experience of preparing line upon line. He said, when his wife was serving as Relief Society president, she received personal revelation after reading the words of President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) to start a food storage.7 They learned valuable lessons of following the prophet, starting a kitchen garden, storing fruits and vegetables managing a budget and using resources wisely. He shared that “As we moved forward in faith and followed the Lord’s commandments, the Lord guided us with revelation line upon line on how to act and not be acted upon. We received peace from the Spirit by knowing we were prepared and keeping the commandments.”

It was eleven o’clock at night. Elder Todd Bradford lay in bed, listening to the slow, even breathing of his companion as he slept across the room.
What had gone wrong? For as long as he could remember, Todd had always known the right thing to say. “Polished” was the word people used when talking about Todd.
But even from the beginning of his mission, he’d felt as if he didn’t belong. As if he were just going through the motions, copying what the other missionaries did, pretending he was like them.
But he wasn’t, and he knew it.
They said they knew the Church was true. He said it too, but sometimes he wasn’t sure if he knew or not.
They said they knew Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, but sometimes he wondered if it was just because they’d been conditioned to say that since they were kids in Primary.
He was smart, he learned fast, he quickly learned to imitate the other missionaries. There’d even been some baptisms.
He’d gotten by all right for ten months.
Until today. When they’d been tracting door to door.
Todd’s companion was Elder Stewart, who’d been in the mission field for only two weeks.
Two doors that day had done Todd in.
The first door was opened by someone not much older than Todd, wearing blue cotton slacks, a short-sleeved sport shirt. He had a tanned face and athletic build and an easy, infectious smile.
They introduced themselves. His name was Devin Anderson.
“What do you do?” Todd asked.
“I’m at the university,” Devin answered.
“Taking classes?”
“No,” Devin smiled. “Giving them.”
“You’re a professor?”
“That’s what they say.”
“You seem so young.”
“Well, I guess I’m what they call a child prodigy. I’m 20 and have a doctorate in philosophy.”
“Was that your car we saw coming in? The Corvette?”
“Yes, that’s mine. Why?”
“I always wanted to have a red Corvette.”
“Take it for a test ride if you want.”
“Really?” Todd said. And then he noticed his companion looking strangely at him. “Well, no, I guess not,” Todd continued. “We’d better just tell you why we’re here.”
Todd began to talk about their message. Devin listened with interest. When they finished, he asked with a smile, “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“Why not?”
“It seems so bizarre, that’s all. Tell me, do you have any proof of what you say? Where are the gold plates these days?”
“The angel took them back.”
“Sure he did,” Devin laughed. “Really, guys, let’s be honest with each other. I don’t mind you going around looking for members, but no person with an education over the third grade could possibly swallow that story. Do you?” He was looking at Todd.
“I wouldn’t be here unless I believed it,” Todd said, mainly because he’d heard other missionaries say that.
Devin went to answer the door. A beautiful blonde stood there wearing a red jump suit that was so flashy it looked like it must be battery operated.
Devin introduced the elders. Her name was Brandi.
“Oh, how about that!” she chirped, “You both have the same first name.”
“Devin, let’s invite them to the party tonight,” Brandi said.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Devin said.
“It’s at a friend’s apartment, but they won’t mind a couple more coming along.” She gave the address.
“Hey, that’s just across from our apartment,” Todd said.
“Great, we’ll see you then. It’ll be a lot of fun,” Brandi said.
“I don’t think we’ll be able to go,” Elder Stewart said.
A few minutes later they left and continued tracting.
That was the first door.
Ten minutes later they met Sloan Thomas, a saintly looking elderly man who was the minister at a local congregation.
“How old do I look to you?” he asked them as he ushered them into his home.
“I don’t know. Maybe 45,” Elder Stewart said.
“I’m 64. God has been good to me. Now you boys just go ahead and present your message.”
When they finished, Reverend Thomas looked Todd in the eye. “I’ve spent my entire life preaching the gospel. Every waking hour I’ve had a prayer in my heart to be an instrument in God’s hand. He’s answered my prayers. I love Jesus with all my heart. And so what you say bothers me. Do you mean to tell me that what I’ve done my entire life is wrong?”
“Well, I’m sure you’ve done the best you could do,” Todd mumbled.
“Are you telling me that what I’ve said about Christ is wrong? For 40 years I’ve preached that if you’ll just accept Christ as your personal Savior, then you’ll be saved in the kingdom of God. What can possibly be wrong with that?”
“Nothing really,” Todd stammered.
“Except a person needs to be baptized by someone who has authority,” Elder Stewart said.
“And you’re saying that all these years I haven’t had any authority?”
“That’s right,” Elder Stewart said.
Reverend Thomas turned to Todd. “If God didn’t approve of what I was doing for the past 40 years, why wouldn’t he let me know?”
“He is now. That’s why we’re here,” Elder Stewart said. “We have more truth to tell you about.”
“More truth? What do you mean?”
“We have the Book of Mormon in addition to the Bible.”
“All a person needs is found in the Bible. We don’t need anything else.”
They discussed back and forth. Todd could see that Reverend Thomas was as good a man as anyone he’d ever met. How can you tell a man like that, with love and warmth in his eyes, and a face like a prophet, that he’s been wrong for 40 years of his life?
“Boys,” Reverend Thomas concluded, “I admire you for leaving your homes to come here to talk to people, but the truth is that the claims of your church are wrong. Mormons are simply not Christian. You are promoting lies by what you’re doing, and my advice to you is pack up and go home.”
For the first time in his life, Todd didn’t know what he was supposed to say.
They excused themselves and left.
After that, for the rest of the afternoon, Todd just went through the motions.
That night they had two appointments, but much to Todd’s relief, they both fell through.
He and Elder Stewart returned to their tiny apartment, got ready for bed, and said their prayers. Todd asked his companion to say the prayer.
And now Todd lay in bed and listened to his companion sleep.
He could hear music. He got up out of bed and looked out the window and across the street where the party was.
The people had left their curtains open, and he could see right into the room. They were not much older than he was. They looked like people he’d like.
A red Corvette pulled up. Devin and Brandi got out and went up the sidewalk to the apartment building where the party was. Brandi looked terrific even from across the street, and he could hear her laughter as they walked.
Todd had always hoped that someday he’d have a girl friend who looked like Brandi, except perhaps she could be a little more intelligent.
If I had a red Corvette, he thought, then girls like Brandi would go out with me too. Maybe someday, when I get off my mission. But if I’d just taken the money I’d saved for my mission, I could have put down a sizable down payment on a Corvette. Then, on a night like tonight, instead of standing here, I could be like Devin, at a party, talking with friends, with a girl like Brandi by my side.
What am I doing here? I don’t belong here. And what if Reverend Thomas is right. What if all that we tell people is wrong?
Suddenly it seemed to him that he’d spent his whole life living up to someone else’s expectations, doing what someone else wanted him to do.
Even when he was six years old, he got up month after month and bore his testimony in church, always saying that he knew the gospel was true.
What does it mean to say I know something is true? How can anyone know anything for sure? All this time I’ve been faking it. I don’t belong here. Not me. How can I convert someone when I’m not sure myself?
He closed his eyes. God, help me. I need help. Please help me, he began.
A few minutes passed. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Devin and Brandi out on the veranda of the apartment across the way. They were in a deep, passionate embrace.
He felt that was an odd way for God to answer his prayer. Watching them carry on was more than Todd could stand, so he got up and went into the kitchen.
He looked up at the one overhead light on the ceiling. It made the room look like a morgue. He made himself a peanut butter sandwich and got a carton of milk and sat down at the table, but then he decided he wasn’t hungry.
I’ll go home, he thought, and take the money I have left and buy me a red Corvette, and then I’ll just be like Devin and find me a girl like Brandi too.
It was as if he were seeing everything for the first time, and everything was tinged with gray and dust. On the table was the jar of peanut butter, a knife still coated with peanut butter, and a sandwich made with the cheapest white bread that money could buy.
Near the middle of the table, off to one side, was a stack of mission newsletters that nobody had thrown out for months. And just to the right of that was a crumpled paperback copy of the Book of Mormon that some unknown elder in the past had read while eating breakfast.
Todd picked up the book and examined it. As he turned the pages, he noticed that because it had been read during meals, some of the pages were stuck together.
In a way the glue from the food made it more of a challenge to read. He found one section of the book that was stuck together. He pried open a page in 2 Nephi, chapter 33, and began reading. “And now, my beloved brethren, and also Jew, and all ye ends of the earth, hearken unto these words and believe in Christ; and if ye believe not in these words believe in Christ. And if ye shall believe in Christ ye will believe in these words, for they are the words of Christ, and he hath given them unto me; and they teach all men that they should do good.
“And if they are not the words of Christ, judge ye—for Christ will show unto you, with power and great glory, that they are his words, at the last day” (2 Ne. 33:10–11).
Todd stopped reading. How odd that the very page he picked was one that testified of Christ.
How could anyone reading that say that Mormons aren’t Christian, he thought.
He picked another page at random and found on that one page alone there were five references to the Savior. And on another page, eleven references. And on another page, exact quotes from the Savior in the New World after his resurrection.
A little later he pried open the part of the book containing 3 Nephi. He began reading in chapter 11 about the Savior’s appearance to the people in the New World. For the first time in his life, he could see it all in his mind. Jesus, gently coming down from heaven, his arms outstretched, the wound marks on his hands and feet. He speaks and his voice is gentle, but at the same time, it touches the very souls of those who hear him. “Behold, I am Jesus Christ, whom the prophets testified shall come into the world. And behold, I am the light and the life of the world” (3 Ne. 11:10–11).
He continued to read through much of the night.
Suddenly passages seemed to jump out at him. Passages of scripture that answered the doubt and uncertainty of his heart.
He smiled a little when he read 3 Nephi 13:19–21 [3 Ne. 13:19–21]: “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and thieves break through and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”
He smiled about thinking that a red Corvette was more important than a mission. The Savior was talking about him all right.
It wasn’t the first time he’d read the scriptures. He’d read them in seminary, but mainly to find the answers to the teacher’s questions. He’d read them in missionary study class, but mainly to be doing the assignment so he could check it off as being done. This was the first time the scriptures had become his scriptures, advice for him.
It seemed that the more he read, the lighter and more cheery the room became, until for the first time in his life, he realized he knew for a certainty that what he’d read was true.
Now he knew that he’d stay on his mission and tell anyone, everyone who’d listen, about the truths found in the Book of Mormon.
He went into the bedroom and looked out the window. Across the street, the party was just now beginning to break up. Devin and Brandi slowly made their way to their car. Brandi lurched unsteadily, leaning precariously as Devin, not too steady himself, tried to help her.
Even so, Todd thought, she’s still very attractive. And he continued to think that until she bent over and vomited all over a rose bush.
A minute later they made it to the car. Devin got in and tried to start it up. After several tries, it became apparent the car was not going to start.
“Stupid idiotic car!” Devin raged, getting out and kicking the tires.
Todd started laughing. Strange, he thought, that Jesus would know so much about red Corvettes.
He lay down in bed and hoped he’d be able to get some sleep before the alarm went off.
It would be another full day for him and his companion.
“Father in Heaven,” he prayed silently, “thanks for giving us the scriptures.”

After I concluded my studies, my wife, Alessandra, and I moved from the USA, where we had studied, back to our home country of Brazil. We were starting our adult lives, and I was seeking employment. It was a difficult period of our lives as we did not have a lot of resources, but we were doing our best to be spiritually and materially self-reliant. During this time, I saw an opportunity for a job with a company that I admired a lot. I knew that I did not have the required professional experience; however, during the interview, I was prompted to talk about the two years that I served as a full-time missionary for the Church. As I spoke about my mission, I found myself sharing the plan of salvation and the word of wisdom, amongst other things. It was a very easy and natural conversation.
I like to run, and I would participate in running groups where we would train and run together. Many times people would ask me why I would not train with them on Sundays or participate in races that took place on Sundays. I would always answer by saying that Sunday was the day that I went to Church with my family. This answer often triggered a follow up question: Which church do you go to? As I answered the second question, a third question would almost always follow that would allow me to share our basic beliefs.
When I had those experiences, I never thought much about them until I read the Lord’s counsel to Peter Whitmer in Doctrine and Covenants 30:5: “Behold, I say unto you, Peter, that you shall take your journey with your brother Oliver; for the time has come that it is expedient in me that you shall open your mouth to declare my gospel; therefore, fear not, but give heed unto the words and advice of your brother, which he shall give you.”
This invitation to open my mouth to declare the gospel had a personal impact on me. It was as if I were reading: “Behold, I say unto you, Ciro, that you shall open your mouth to declare my gospel”. I then realized that in the above experiences I was proclaiming the gospel as commanded in the scriptures.
Often, when we think about missionary work, we think about inviting our friends to come to our homes with the goal to have full-time missionaries there to teach the gospel to them. This is great, and we should continue doing it. But what I was doing during those two experiences is also missionary work. I was sharing the gospel in a normal and natural way. This is what we are called to do: to love, share, and invite people to come unto Christ in a normal and natural way.
We usually have the expectation that missionary work should bring immediate results. We cannot measure our success in proclaiming the gospel by the number of people who eventually join the Church through our efforts. We never know the impact and reach of our words and testimonies. For example, the two experiences that I mentioned have not resulted in baptisms up to now. But I am happy that I opened my mouth and proclaimed the gospel, and I continue to talk about the gospel with others. Sometimes the seeds that we are planting will take a long time to grow and to bear fruits. At other times it will happen faster. Our responsibility is to do our best in opening our mouths and in helping people feel the love of God.
To illustrate this, we can look at the conversion of Parley P. Pratt. When he came across the Book of Mormon, he was almost immediately converted and baptized. In contrast, it took Brigham Young two years of studying the gospel before he was baptised. Therefore, it is so important for us to love, share and invite. Even when people do not immediately act upon our invitations, we continue to love, share and invite as the Saviour Jesus Christ has taught us.
In Matthew 4:19 we read the following: “And he saith unto them, Follow me and I will make you fishers of men.” This is the same invitation that the Saviour Jesus Christ is extending to each one of us: to follow Him and share His message.
So what do we share? In 2 Nephi 25:26 we read: “And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.” We talk of Christ. In the above verse we could replace ‘our children’ to ‘our friends’: “that [our friends] may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins”.
We should do this in a normal and natural way. People will want to know more about the Saviour and His gospel because they know us. Missionary work is not an event or an activity; it is part of who we are as we live the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Brethren, as you may remember, while speaking this morning I referred to our recent visit to the Caribbean Islands and the wonderful missionary work that has been accomplished in the two short years since we opened up those islands for the preaching of the gospel.
One incident occurred in Santo Domingo that I did not have time to tell you about. I think I should like to relate it to you now.
We held an evening general meeting in Santo Domingo, the capital city of the Dominican Republic. Nearly 1600 souls were present.
About an hour after the close of the general meeting, a busload of one hundred members from the Puerto Plata Branch arrived at the meeting place. They had been delayed because their bus broke down. Under ordinary circumstances, they could have made the trip in about four hours, but they finally arrived after 10:00 p.m. to find the hall dark and empty. Many wept because they were so disappointed. All were converts, some for a few months and others only weeks or days.
Sister Kimball and I had gone to bed after a long and tiring day. Upon learning of the plight of these faithful souls, my secretary knocked on the door of our hotel room and woke us up. He apologized for disturbing us but thought that I would want to know about the late arrivals and perhaps dictate a personal message to them. However, I felt that wouldn’t be good enough and not fair to those who had come so far under such trying circumstances—one hundred people jammed into one bus. I got out of bed and dressed and went downstairs to see the members who had made such an effort only to be disappointed because of engine trouble. The Saints were still weeping as we entered the hall, so I spent more than an hour visiting with them.
They then seemed relieved and satisfied and got back on the bus for the long ride home. They had to get back by morning to go to work and to school. Those good people seemed so appreciative of a brief visit together that I felt we just couldn’t let them down. As I returned to my bed, I did so with a sense of peace and contentment in my soul.

Last June, a terrible accident occurred in the country of Lesotho in southern Africa. A small bus carrying 20 young women of the Maputsoe Branch of the Church and seven of their leaders was headed to the capital city, Maseru, for a gathering of young women from their district. As they traveled the two-lane highway in the morning hours, a car coming in the opposite direction, attempting to pass another vehicle, came into the lane occupied by the bus. There was no space or time to avoid a head-on collision, and within seconds the vehicles hit, rolled off the road, and burst into flames.
In all, 15 people died in the accident, including six young women, two Young Women leaders, and the branch president and his wife. Survivors, family members, and friends have expressed a range of emotions, including moments of anger, depression, and even guilt. Despite these feelings and unanswered questions, they have comforted one another and turned to God through sacred music, the scriptures, and prayer, where they have found solace. Seventeen-year-old survivor Setso’ana Selebeli testified, “Jesus Christ loves us and is with us, even though our hearts hurt.”
A young woman and a leader who were hospitalized for burn treatments studied the Book of Mormon together. One said, “Lately we’ve been reading in Moroni, and Moroni says exactly what I’ve been feeling. … When he speaks, it’s like he’s saying, ‘You have to learn these words because they are written for you to help you pass through this.’”
At a joint funeral service for those who perished, Area Seventy Elder Siyabonga Mkhize counseled, “We should all turn to the Lord at this time and ask Him to comfort our hearts and … to soothe the pain that we feel.” The Young Women president from the neighboring Leribe Branch, Mampho Makura, urged: “Turn to the Lord, and find the strength to accept His will. Jesus Christ is ‘the author and finisher of our faith’ [Hebrews 12:2]. Don’t look away, but look to Him.”
Look to Him. Her words echo the counsel of Alma to his son Helaman: “See that ye look to God and live.” Alma cited the experience of Lehi and his people with the Liahona as a type: “It is as easy to give heed to the word of Christ, which will point to you a straight course to eternal bliss, as it was for our fathers to give heed to this compass, which would point unto them a straight course to the promised land.” Alma said: “If they would look they might live. … And if we … look we may live forever.”
On another occasion, Alma cited the example of the brass serpent raised by Moses when the ancient Israelites were afflicted by fiery serpents. The Lord told Moses to make a figure of a serpent and lift it on a pole, with the promise “that every one that is bitten, when he looketh upon it, shall live.” Alma explained that the brass figure was a type or symbol of Christ, who would be lifted up upon the cross. Many did look and live, but others were, in Alma’s words, “so hardened” that they simply would not look and perished.
Alma asked:
“If ye could be healed by merely casting about your eyes that ye might be healed, would ye not behold quickly, or would ye rather harden your hearts in unbelief, and be slothful, that ye would not cast about your eyes, that ye might perish?
“… Then cast about your eyes and begin to believe in the Son of God, that he will come to redeem his people, and that he shall suffer and die to atone for their sins; and that he shall rise again from the dead, which shall bring to pass the resurrection, that all men shall stand before him, to be judged at the last and judgment day, according to their works.”
Of course, the counsel “look to God and live” not only has meaning for us in eternity but also makes all the difference in the character and quality of our mortal lives. Remember the words of young Sister Selebeli in Lesotho already mentioned—“Jesus Christ loves us and is with us, even though our hearts hurt.”
It is in the nature of a fallen world—where the devil rages and where everyone is imperfect—that there will be disappointments and offenses, suffering and sorrow, failure and loss, persecution and injustice. It is only by looking to God that individuals, families, and even nations can flourish. President Russell M. Nelson taught, “Because the Savior, through His infinite Atonement, redeemed each of us from weakness, mistakes, and sin, and because He experienced every pain, worry, and burden you have ever had [see Alma 7:11–13], then as you truly repent and seek His help, you can rise above this present precarious world.”
No promise is repeated more often in Book of Mormon scripture than this: “Inasmuch as ye shall keep my commandments ye shall prosper in the land; but inasmuch as ye will not keep my commandments ye shall be cut off from my presence.” The lived experience of the Book of Mormon peoples over centuries demonstrates the truth of these words. “Prosper” meant enjoying the guidance and blessings of heaven in their lives. “Prosper” meant achieving levels of economic well-being that enabled them to marry, raise families, and minister to the needs of others. “Prospering” included the capacity to rise above hardship and trial. Through the grace of Christ, “all things work[ed] together for [their] good,” refined them, and deepened their relationship with Him.
Alma explained that to look to God is to keep His commandments, cry unto Him continually for His support, counsel with Him in all your doings, and let your heart be full of thanks unto Him day and night. God’s commandments and counsel are found in the scriptures and the words of His servants. The principles and ideals laid out in “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” are a prime example. Another is the guidance found in the booklet For the Strength of Youth. The Young Men and Young Women theme for this year is “Look unto Christ,” drawn from the Lord’s comforting direction to Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery: “Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not.” For the Strength of Youth speaks to several of God’s most urgent commandments and standards and teaches how to look to the Lord in making good decisions. It is a guide not only for youth but for all of us.
As one very important example, For the Strength of Youth has crucial guidance in the chapter titled “Your Body Is Sacred.” It instructs: “Treat your body—and others’ bodies—with respect. As you make decisions about your clothing, hairstyle, and appearance, ask yourself, ‘Am I honoring my body as a sacred gift from God?’”
For the Strength of Youth further states: “Keep sex and sexual feelings sacred. They should not be the subject of jokes or entertainment. Outside of marriage between a man and a woman, it is wrong to touch the private, sacred parts of another person’s body even if clothed. In your choices about what you do, look at, read, listen to, think about, post, or text, avoid anything that purposely arouses lustful emotions in others or yourself.”
This calls to mind President Nelson’s recent admonition:
“Few things will complicate your life more quickly than violating this divine law [of chastity]. For those who have made covenants with God, immorality is one of the quickest ways to lose your testimony.
“… The power to create life is the one privilege of godhood that Heavenly Father allows His mortal children to exercise. Thus, God set clear guidelines for the use of this living, divine power. Physical intimacy is only for a man and a woman who are married to each other.
“Much of the world does not believe this, but public opinion is not the arbiter of truth. The Lord has declared that no unchaste person will attain the celestial kingdom. … If you have been unchaste, I plead with you to repent. Come unto Christ and receive His promise of complete forgiveness as you fully repent of your sins [see Isaiah 1:16–18; Doctrine and Covenants 58:42–43].”
Remember that in the Book of Mormon promise, the opposite of prosperity was not poverty—it was being cut off from the presence of the Lord. His presence refers to the influence of His Spirit in one’s life. All are imbued with the Light of Christ as they come into the world. In addition, some act to be baptized and receive the gift and added light of the Holy Ghost. He brings inspiration and guidance, enhances and refines one’s native gifts and abilities, and helps to avoid evil influences, poor decisions, and dead ends.
Like you, I know some who once enjoyed the gift of the Holy Ghost but who through failure to keep the commandments of God have lost that blessing. One in particular comes to mind whose membership in the Church had been withdrawn due to transgression. He said that his initial reaction was to feel offended. He felt judged by imperfect leaders. He knew his conduct had been wrong, but he rationalized it by pointing to the faults and failings of others. After a while, he began to feel comfortable in a lifestyle outside the Church without the obligation of callings and expectations of attending worship services and ministering to others.
This continued for some time, but he began to feel ever more keenly the absence of the Holy Spirit—God’s presence—in his life. By experience, he knew what it was like to have, day by day, the comfort, guidance, and confidence born of the Spirit, and he missed it. Finally, he did what was needed to repent and qualify once more for baptism of water and of the Spirit.
There seems to be no end to the different sources people look to for meaning, happiness, and help. Most are “looking beyond the mark.” But we need not be “children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine [or fashion].” In looking to God, we can find peace in difficulty, and our faith can continue to grow even in times of doubt and spiritual challenge. We can receive strength in the face of opposition and isolation. We can reconcile the ideal with the present reality. Truly, there is no other way than what God Himself has ordained: “Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth: for I am God, and there is none else.”
Looking to God means that He is not just one of our priorities; it means, rather, that He is our one highest priority. I call to mind again that awful crash in Lesotho last June. From her hospital bed, one of the Young Women leaders who survived, who did not believe in God before joining the Church, said that her purpose is now to discover why her life was spared. “Constantly serving God is how I will come to an answer, if I come to an answer,” she stated. “I used to think that I love God, but now I really, really, really, really, really love Him. Now He is the [number-one] priority in my life.”

Elder Featherstone’s childhood years were often difficult. His father had a drinking problem. “I remember that on payday my mother would look out the window, waiting for the bus to come by that would drop my dad off. She would wait and wait until the last bus had gone by. He would not come home; he would be out spending his paycheck on alcohol.

“We’d have no food in the house at all, and the next day my mother would send me to the store. I’d get our old red wagon with the tires worn off and the rims worn flat and drag it up the street as slowly as I possibly could. I’d get to the store, go in, and walk around the aisles, trying to avoid Mr. Parsons. Finally, I’d hand him my mother’s note: ‘Dear Mr. Parsons, We don’t have any food in the house. Would you mind charging fifty pounds of flour, a bucket of lard, some side pork, and a few other things? We promise to pay back every penny when we get some money. Thanks.’

“Mr. Parsons would fill the order and make out a charge slip and put the food in the wagon, and I’d drag it home. I did that more times than I can tell you. I give credit to my mother and older brothers that we paid back every single penny that we ever owed to Mr. Parsons.

It was easy to get to sleep that first night. David Miller, however, woke up in the middle of the night with a creepy feeling that he wasn’t alone in his bag.
“I thought I felt something in my bag. I lay still for a while, and pretty soon whatever it was began running down my back. I grabbed it between the folds of my sleeping bag, got out of the bag, and woke my father. He helped me brush it out. It was a little squirrel, and it seemed as glad to be out of the bag as I was.”

Recently at work, I was listening to music while typing away at emails. Suddenly, a favorite song of mine came on, and as I listened to the lyrics of the song, it made me think of moments in the past where I had wished I could “fix” and heal loved ones who were hurting. Let me take you back to a few examples:
When my grandma was sick a few years ago, I would stay with her several nights a week. After giving her medicine and tucking her into bed, I would get in my car and drive through a dark canyon to get home. I would play this same song on repeat and cry and cry. I would beg Heavenly Father to give me more patience. To be kinder. To be softer. But most of all, I begged Him to know how I could fix her.
Then, about two years ago, a friend of mine died by suicide. The phone call I received that delivered the news will be etched in my mind for the rest of my life. I beat myself up for months, wondering what more I could have done for this person. How I could have been a better friend. How I could have called more. How I could have invited this person more. I had so many thoughts of regret and self-blame that went on and on.
And finally, I recently hit a point of exhaustion I’d never felt before. My friends, family members, and even coworkers had been opening up to me about their current challenges, and the more they opened up to me, the more I would try to take on what they were struggling with. I was hyperfocused on that idea of “fixing,” and I felt powerless to do so.
So when that song came on at work, tears instantly flooded my eyes as I stopped typing and listened to the music. It was all I could do to mutter a small prayer: “Heavenly Father … I’m exhausted.”
Then God, in His loving grace, answered my prayer by patiently teaching me. These words instantly came to my mind: “You’re exhausted because you’re trying to be the fixer. And that is what I sent my Son to do.”
I felt incredibly humbled in that moment. I’d been trying to do a job that was never mine to do in the first place.
As Sister Reyna I. Aburto, Second Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, taught: “Sometimes, the natural man or woman in us makes us think that we have been called to ‘fix’ other people. We have not been called to be ‘fixers’ of others, and we have not been called to lecture or to scorn. We have been called to inspire, to lift, to invite others, to be fishers of people, fishers of souls so they receive the opportunity to be spiritually healed by Jesus Christ, our Savior and Redeemer.”1
I’ve learned that because of the world we live in, we will constantly be with people, including ourselves, who are imperfect. And living in an imperfect world means that we will all experience challenges in this life, including difficult things that are beyond our control. That’s why God sent Jesus Christ—so He could help us.
Heavenly Father reminded me that day in my office that it wasn’t my job to heal my grandma. I wasn’t to blame for my friend’s death by suicide. And it certainly wasn’t my role to take on all the burdens and weaknesses of those around me.

Mary Elizabeth breathed deeply as she walked down the streets of Independence. Though she missed her uncle’s store in Kirtland, she admired his new red brick store on the corner of two of the widest, loveliest streets in Independence. She enjoyed the excitement of building up Zion.
After a few months in Independence, Mary Elizabeth felt lucky when a man named Mr. Boggs hired her to work as a seamstress. She was only 14 years old, and the extra money she earned would be a blessing for her family. And besides, she liked to sew! The Boggs family lived just a short distance away from Mary Elizabeth’s new home. Mr. Boggs had just been elected to an important political position in the state of Missouri, and he needed new clothes for official occasions. One of Mary Elizabeth’s assignments was to sew Mr. Boggs’s shirt collars.
Mary Elizabeth liked the Boggs family with their many children. She was especially fond of one of the little girls. The Boggs family liked her too. Often Mrs. Boggs sewed with Mary Elizabeth for hours at a time.
One day Mrs. Boggs asked, “Mary Elizabeth, you know we are not Mormons as you are, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mrs. Boggs,” Mary Elizabeth said.
“Mary Elizabeth, your church is wrong,” Mrs. Boggs said. “Being a Mormon will only bring you pain and disappointment.”
Mary Elizabeth sat silently.
“I have spoken with my husband,” Mrs. Boggs went on. “We like you. My husband has power and money, more than your people do. We want to take you in as one of our own. We will provide for you and educate you. You will be one of us.” Mrs. Boggs smiled hopefully.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Boggs, but I cannot abandon my faith or my people,” Mary Elizabeth said. “But thank you for your kindness to me.”
A few months later, things indeed became more painful for the Saints in Missouri. Mobs were starting to attack more frequently. They were even destroying crops and buildings.
One day Mary Elizabeth and her younger sister Caroline were near Brother Phelps’s printing office when a mob began destroying the press and dumping large piles of printed paper out the window. Mary Elizabeth recognized the paper right away. The men were destroying the Book of Commandments!
“Caroline, we must save those papers,” Mary Elizabeth whispered. “Follow me.”
“They will kill us,” Caroline said. “But I will come.”
Waiting until the men had turned away from the girls, each sister grabbed a large armful of papers and began running toward a cornfield. The men saw the girls and began to chase them, yelling at them to stop. The girls ran into the tall corn, laid the papers on the ground, and lay on top of them to protect them. The sisters could hear the men crashing through the corn stalks nearby. Mary Elizabeth and Caroline’s hearts pounded, but to their relief, the girls were not found.
After waiting in the corn for a long time, the sisters carried the papers back to the printing office. They were grateful to be safe and that they had helped the Lord’s work.

“Hmmph!” Kate said, thumping her purple backpack down hard on the kitchen table. Everything rattled.
Her big sister, Emma, picked up her glass of milk to keep it from spilling. “What’s wrong?” she asked, closing her math textbook.
Kate collapsed in a chair and buried her head in her arms. “At school today Maya got the ‘Being Good’ award, and I didn’t. And I was working just as hard as she was!” Kate squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists, remembering that awful sinking feeling when Mrs. Jenkins had called Maya’s name instead of hers. “Maya gets to show her parents that award certificate, but I don’t have anything to show Mom and Dad!”
“I’m sorry,” Emma began to say.
“And we went to the library today,” Kate raced on, “and Emily got the ladybug book I wanted! And at recess, I found a cool heart-shaped rock, but Michael said it was his and took it home! I never get anything good!”
“I bet that’s not true,” said Emma, patting Kate on the shoulder. “Let’s look in your backpack.”
Kate heard Emma slide the backpack across the table and unzip it. “There’s nothing special in there,” Kate mumbled with her head in her arms.
Emma gasped. “Oh, Kate! Look at this!”
Kate looked up.
Emma was holding the worksheets Kate had done in school that day. “You got 100 percent on your math paper.” Emma grinned and tapped her math book. “Maybe I should be asking you for help on my homework!”
Kate smiled just the tiniest bit.
Emma pulled another paper out of Kate’s backpack. “And this tree you made in art class is gorgeous. I bet you worked really hard on it, right?”
Kate sat up, remembering how carefully she had cut and glued each piece of the tree. “Right,” she said quietly.
“And look at this!” Emma said, pulling out a library book. “You got a book about a mommy pig and all her babies! You love pigs!”
I do like pigs, Kate thought. I like them even more than ladybugs. She smiled.
Emma reached way down into Kate’s bag. “Wow!” she said, carefully lifting out two pinecones that had grown together. “I’ve never seen anything like this!”
Kate bounced in her chair. “I found it under a tree after school!” she said. “I want to put it on the science table in my classroom.”
“I bet your class will love it,” Emma said. “Come on, let’s wrap it up and put it back in your bag so you won’t forget it.”
Kate and Emma found some brown paper to wrap the pinecones in.
“This will be a cool way to start the day tomorrow,” Emma said, holding the wrapped pinecones so Kate could tape the paper down.
Kate grinned and hugged her big sister. I’ve had a pretty good day after all, she thought. It just depends on how I look at it!

One Sunday afternoon, I began thinking about Jesus Christ and His atoning sacrifice. Those thoughts helped me feel safe and sound.
Suddenly, however, I remembered the rising cases of COVID-19 in my country. Immediately, I felt sadness for people worldwide who were suffering. I said to myself, “They don’t feel the same security and peace that I do.” Those feelings brought me to my knees, and I began to pray.
I prayed for those who had died, as well as for those who had lost loved ones. I wept for them because I know the pain that comes with losing someone you love. During the COVID-19 global pandemic, many have carried alone the burden of losing a loved one.
Then my thoughts turned to my mother, who had passed away when I was five years old. As tears continued to run down my cheeks, I prayed to Heavenly Father about how much I missed her. Then I remembered that Jesus wept with Mary and Martha after Lazarus, their brother and His friend, had died (see John 11:19–35). His compassion comforted me, but the tears still came as I thought of how much I missed my mother.
As I continued to pray, I included my mom in my prayer. I thought of her and imagined her in front of me. I told Heavenly Father how much I loved her and missed her. I thanked Him for the time I had with my mom in this world. I miss her, but I believe that one day we will meet again and be together as a family forever.
I paused, and my heart filled with hope. I prayed to Heavenly Father to bless my father and me to endure until we could see my mom again. Then I shed tears of joy and hope for that glorious gathering made possible through the Savior’s Resurrection.
I feel immense gratitude to Heavenly Father for the plan of salvation. The death of my mother was painful, but my pain has been “swallowed up in the joy of Christ” (Alma 31:38). I am grateful for Him. He renews my hope in the life to come. His Resurrection means more to me now than ever. I will see my mother again because of my Savior.

One young man strayed from the Church for years before finally returning. At a testimony meeting he said: “I got involved in a lot of things I shouldn’t have in an effort to fit in with the popular group, but I always knew something was missing. When I finally repented and returned to full activity in the Church, I didn’t feel that void anymore. I came back, and through the forgiveness of Jesus Christ and His perfect love, I know this is where I belong.”