Gospel Story Finder

After Joseph brought the gold plates home, treasure seekers tried for weeks to steal them. To keep the record safe, he had to move it from place to place, hiding the plates under the hearth, beneath the floor of his father’s shop, and in piles of grain. He could never let his guard down.
Curious neighbors stopped by the house and begged him to show them the record. Joseph always refused, even when someone offered to pay him. He was determined to care for the plates, trusting in the Lord’s promise that if he did everything he could, they would be protected.1
These disruptions often kept him from examining the plates and learning more about the Urim and Thummim. He knew the interpreters were supposed to help him translate the plates, but he had never used seer stones to read an ancient language. He was anxious to begin the work, but it was not obvious to him how to do it.2

It may have happened several months ago, but being part of the Masskara opening number for the cultural show we staged during the welcome dinner for the Tabernacle Choir in February and during the area broadcast with Elder and Sister Stevenson in May still inspires me.
Looking back, I had to sacrifice my weekends to attend the practices. There were times when I felt so tired, especially since I had to juggle family, a ton of school work, and practices while also waking up early, traveling, dealing with sore muscles, and more.
Despite this, I knew that I was doing it for the Lord and that all of my efforts would be worth it. I felt the Lord’s hand every step of the way. On top of that, I got to know so many people, built unexpected friendships, and had so much fun!
We were only given less than two months to practice compared to previous cultural presentations which had several months of preparation, so I was amazed that we were able to learn the steps quickly. I was also inspired by the hard work of those around me, especially the trainers and those who arranged the show.
They were sacrificing so much of their time and effort (to the point that some even sacrificed their sleep), and they were so patient with us. They cared for each one of us. I felt this the most when our trainers gave each of us awards that were well thought out and personalized, which deeply touched my heart. Our trainers also pushed for us to bond with one another, and I think this bond we have with our fellow dancers would not exist without them.
On the day of the performance, we all gave our best. When I saw how the Tabernacle Choir members enjoyed our performances so much, and how they were moved to tears, it made me feel that all of the efforts and sacrifices we made were worth it. I was also surprised and moved to tears when they sang a song for us. It was such a memorable experience for me. That moment felt like we were Zion—of one heart and of one mind, all worshipping the Lord, all united by music. Nothing can replace the sacredness and joy that I felt that night.
Three months later, we performed our Masskara dance again, this time with Elder and Sister Stevenson, the Area Presidency and their wives, and the entire country as the show and the devotional were broadcast live! We experienced the same high, this time brought about by the inspiring words of Elder and Sister Stevenson. They counseled us to P.R.O. every day: Pray over and over, Read time after time, and Obey again and again.
My Masskara co-dancers and I have been trying to apply the things we learned during our rehearsal period and our recent performances, and today I am happy to note that among the Masskara dancers, three are already serving their missions, and two have received their call.
Those who are serving include Sister Alcantara, a service missionary serving in the Quezon City North Mission, and Sister Russel Bañaga and Sister Krizzia Arpellida, both serving in the Philippines, Urdaneta Mission (they entered the MTC on July 19, 2024). Meanwhile, Brother James Ejercito’s mission in Seoul, South Korea started on September 27, 2024, and Sister Maren Rivera will serve in the Philippines Baguio Mission on November 1, 2024.
Sister Alcantara and Sister Bañaga were part of the previous generation of Masskara dancers who volunteered to train and teach the current batch of Masskara dancers. They showed patience and charity as they developed close relationships with the youth and taught those who had difficulty with the steps. Their example not just as dancers but as servants of the Lord is such a blessing to all of us.
Sister Arpellida, Brother James, and Sister Maren were all part of the current generation of Masskara dancers. The three of them developed a close friendship during the practices, and shared their progress along the covenant path, encouraging and inspiring each other. They showed resilience and perseverance despite having sore bodies as they continued to practice every Saturday from 8:00 am to 5:00 pm.
I can’t remember how many generations of Masskara dancers there have been since it started 14 years ago when they performed it during the Church Jubilee celebration at the Araneta Coliseum. As a primary child back then, I was amazed by the colorful and energetic number. I was also inspired by the many dancers and trainers who have served missions through the years. The legacy continues, and I hope more of the dancers from my generation will go and serve.
These missionaries and soon-to-be missionaries inspire all of us fellow dancers. They sacrificed their time and talents to the Lord to serve him through performing for the Tabernacle Choir and Elder and Sister Stevenson, now they are sacrificing their time and talents to invite others to come unto Christ and help them receive the gospel of Jesus Christ.

How I struggled to learn Spanish on my mission. I had been out three months and still I was unable to help my companion. Early each morning, I got on my knees and pled for the gift of tongues I had been promised when I was set apart. I studied my heart out. Yet I could not speak Spanish.

Then one night, my companion who was the branch president got a phone call from a family in need. Soon we entered their apartment on the sixth floor of an old building in New York City. Never had I felt such darkness. Mother and father were shouting at each other and two little ones cried in fear. My father had been right. This was hell. My companion and I sat on the couch, without a clue of what to do.

Then warmth and an urging came over me. "Sid, you know what to say." I rebelled in my heart. "No I don't. I do not understand what they are yelling, I can't speak Spanish and I am the junior companion." Then... I was speaking. I am sure it was not great Spanish, but I was speaking and they were listening. I said, "Brother and Sister Vargas, Heavenly Father does not like fighting at home. I explained that in my home, when we needed to solve a problem, we prayed. I turned to Sister Vargas and invited her to pray. I slipped off the couch to my knees. My companion stared at me in disbelief.

"No," she said. "I can't pray now." I bowed my head, closed my eyes and waited. First there was silence, then tears as she began to pray. She apologized to the Lord and her husband for getting angry and for the words she had said. She asked the Spirit to return to their home. I then turned to the father and asked him to pray. His heart was hard and he was about to throw us out. But... he started to pray and his heart softened. Soon the children were holding tight to their parents and light had returned to that home.

There is one sport that everyone in Brazil loves—football. And there is no bigger football event than the World Cup. So when Fabiana Silva, a member of the Brasil Ward, Vitória da Conquista Brazil Stake, won a contest and got to attend the 1998 World Cup in France, she was thrilled! But she had no idea it would become a missionary opportunity.
The other contest winners couldn’t help noticing Fabiana’s standards as they attended football game after football game, and Brazil headed to the final game against France. They respected her modest dress, her positive attitude, and her clean language. That respect turned to disbelief, though, when she told them she would not be attending the championship because it was going to be held on Sunday.
Despite pressure and even ridicule from the group, Fabiana stood firm. Sunday found her reading scriptures in her hotel room because she didn’t know where to find a local chapel. Brazil lost; the group went home.
A few weeks later Fabiana was surprised to receive a letter from Fábio Fan, another contest winner from across the country. He told her he was impressed by her standards and that he was investigating the Church. Later he sent another letter—he had been baptized. Fábio then helped bring members of his family into the Church and served a mission.
Fabiana also served a mission, to Campinas, Brazil, where she was well prepared because she had already learned that “the most effective tract we will carry will be the goodness of our own lives and example.”

When Eli Herring was little, he would sometimes try to be sneaky and watch Sunday professional football on television. He didn’t know much about the game, but he knew he liked it. He liked it so much that each week when his class at school would go to the library, he would check out books about football players. He knew they were big and strong, he knew he wanted to be one, and he knew that they played most of their games on Sunday. And he wanted to watch some football.
One Sunday when he had the television on, he suddenly noticed his father looming in the doorway. Eli promptly forgot about the game. His father wasn’t angry, but he sure looked disappointed. Brother Herring simply said, “Turn it off,” and Eli did. He never watched football on Sunday again.
It didn’t take Eli and his brothers and sisters long to find out how their parents felt about the gospel. The family often gathered and read their scriptures and talked about the things of the Lord. Like many Latter-day Saints, the Herrings taught their children about eternal life and eternal families. They taught their children how to fast and pray and how to seek guidance from the Lord.
Other than watching games on Sunday, Eli found no conflict between football and the gospel. He played little league with his friends, and he often thought about playing college and professional football. He was always big for his age, and his father was a big man, so he assumed he would be able to play if he wanted to.
Then one Sunday when he was 16, he and his family were talking about football. Springville (Utah) High School had just won the state championship, and between his sophomore and junior years Eli had really begun to grow, gaining 80 pounds. Playing in college—and maybe after—was beginning to look like a real possibility.
As the family was talking about this exciting possibility, his mother commented, “You know, Eli, if you play professional football, you will have to play on the Sabbath.” Suddenly Eli knew that one day he might have to decide between keeping the Sabbath as his father had taught him and playing football.
Several universities recruited him to play for them when he finished his senior season. At this point, playing football first began to clash with doing what he knew he should. When he told recruiters he intended to go on a mission, two of the schools, Washington and Stanford, lost interest. But that didn’t deter him. More than once as he was growing up, his father had taken out his mission slides, and the family had watched as he told about his mission. Eli had always known that he, too, wanted to go on a mission, and he never questioned that decision.
Eli finally chose to attend BYU, and he played there his freshman year before leaving on a mission to Argentina. He came back two years later, stronger, faster, more coordinated, and even more ready to play football. He played his sophomore and junior seasons. He got married and took classes at the university. But always at the back of his mind, he knew that someday he might have to choose between playing football and keeping the Sabbath day holy.
Then, the summer before his senior season, the time suddenly came for Eli to make a decision. That summer USA Today published an article that ranked the top professional prospects among college football players. To his surprise, Eli found his name on the list. It dawned on him how much money he could be making playing football the next year, and he knew he had to make a decision.
It was not an easy one. Eli knew that something he had often dreamed of since elementary school was within reach. He considered all the things that he could do with the money he would make as a professional football player: he could put his children through school and pay for their missions; he could have a retirement fund; he could go on as many missions with his wife as he wanted; he could teach and coach and not have any financial worries. He would be set.
On the other hand, experiences he had had in his life told him things weren’t that simple. When he had arrived on his mission, one U.S. dollar was worth 15 Argentine australs. By the time he left, a dollar was worth about 10,000 australs. In less than two years, people who had been rich in Argentina were not rich anymore. From this Eli knew that he could not trust in money nor make his decision based solely on that.
On one hand there were good people who were active in the Church and who did a lot of good for the Church who played professional sports on Sunday. On the other hand, Eli had seen some very powerful examples of people who had refused to break the Sabbath.
One was Erroll Bennett, one of the top soccer players in Tahiti, whom Eli read about one day on his mission. When Brother Bennett joined the Church, he decided to withdraw from his team because he chose not to play on the Sabbath. When Eli read the story and saw how dedicated Brother Bennett was to the gospel, he was impressed. He says, “I knew I wanted to be a man like that, with that kind of commitment and dedication to what I knew was right.”
Eli discussed his choices with the people most important to him. His mother always reminded him of the commandment to keep the Sabbath day holy. His father, who had worked hard trying to support his family, told him to consider the decision carefully, reminding Eli how the money would help him support his wife and children. His wife, Jennifer, had received a paper in school full of quotations from leaders of the Church about the Sabbath day. Together they studied those and talked about the decision, but Jennifer and Eli’s parents all said that the decision was his and they would support him however he decided.
Eli talked to many other people. Some told him to play; some said maybe he shouldn’t. But Eli knew that talking to others wouldn’t make the decision for him. “When you’re considering giving up hundreds of thousands or millions of dollars,” he says, “it’s probably not something you’re going to do just because you’ve talked to someone.”
He knew that he would have to make the decision himself after praying to his Heavenly Father. Eli recalls: “It occurred to me to pray and fast about it because of what my parents taught me. … During the rest of the summer and through the next football season, all my scripture study and all my prayers and everything were focused on what the best decision would be. This lasted about six months. I didn’t make the final decision until the season was over at the end of December.”
That was an intense six months. Eli says: “I don’t think in my life other than sometimes on my mission I ever had the scriptures come to life for me as they did during that period of time. … I saw things I had never seen or understood before.”
One day, for example, he was reading in the Book of Mormon about Alma counseling his son Helaman. Alma urges his son: “O remember, remember, my son Helaman, how strict are the commandments of God. And he said: If ye will keep my commandments ye shall prosper in the land—but if ye keep not his commandments ye shall be cut off from his presence. … Therefore I command you, my son Helaman, that ye be diligent … in keeping the commandments of God as they are written” (Alma 37:13, 20).
The phrase “as they are written” particularly struck Eli. He knew the key to being in the Lord’s presence and to prospering was to keep the commandments “as they are written”—with exactness. Eli understood that to have financial security and other blessings for his family, “it was a more sure thing to keep the commandments and trust in the Lord than to have a million dollars.”
As the months progressed toward the end of the season, Eli became more sure of what he had to do. “I read my scriptures, and time after time I would see more and more and more reasons that I felt in my heart that I needed to observe the Sabbath more than I needed to play football,” Eli says.
When he finally made the decision, it was easy. He laughs now about all the attention he received: “I had been on the offensive line my whole career, and it’s not like a lineman gets a lot of recognition. I got so much more recognition for making that decision than I ever got for playing football. People wrote me, telling me what they thought about the decision I had made, good or bad. I never got so much mail in my life.”
Some people asked whether he had considered all the factors, and some asked if he had thought of all the money he could make. Eli laughs, “One of the most interesting things to me was that people would say, Haven’t you thought of this and this, when I had been thinking about it for ten years and had considered those things maybe a million and a half times.” The letters were entertaining, but they didn’t change his mind or cause him to reconsider. He had been very careful in making his decision, and once he made it he was firm.
Now Eli is doing what he has wanted to do for a long time—he is teaching and coaching in a local high school. Teachers aren’t famous for their high salaries, and sometimes the money is a little short. But Eli smiles about it: “The paychecks now, in spite of being low, are more than we were making when we were students. We’re happy to have more than we had before. Occasionally I think we could have a brand-new car or a nice house, but I have never had any serious doubts about the decision.”
He gathers his family around the room as he talks about the decision that has made such a difference in their lives. His daughter Hannah plays on the floor while his wife, Jennifer, holds the baby, Sarah. They don’t have the new house, car, and retirement fund, but they’re happy. Eli has come a long way from the boy who sometimes sneaked in to watch football on Sundays. Now he is a father who, like his own father and like Alma long ago, is determined to teach his children the commandments “as they are written” and to help them be covenant people of the Lord.

May I share an experience that continues to teach me about how the Lord helps us learn, grow, and serve?

Some years ago, I was on a Church assignment reorganizing a stake in Florida. When my plane flight was delayed, I had a clear feeling there was something I could do with the extra minutes I had in the Orlando, Florida, airport.

In an airline lounge, I met a couple, and we began to chat together. I did not think they were members of our Church; each was holding a glass of red wine.

As the conversation turned naturally to family, I learned they had two sons.

“Tell me about your older son,” I asked. They said he was involved in some kind of military training in North Carolina.

I mentioned I had once lectured at Fort Bragg in North Carolina on international relations, my then-professional field. While there, I had learned about HALO parachute training—not Halo the video game but HALO, which stands for High Altitude, Low Opening.

A HALO-trained special forces soldier can jump out of a plane at high altitude, free fall, then open his parachute at the last minute to land—in the water. In the water, he can use a special scuba breathing apparatus which does not emit bubbles. Of course, to make detection even harder, all this is done at night.

The couple looked surprised. Their eyes got big. “That’s what our son does,” they said proudly. I commended their son’s courage, discipline, and skill. We then talked warmly about his (and their) patriotism and service to the country.

I asked about their second son. They said he liked music and was preparing for a musical production.

“What musical production?”

“Something called Less Miserabless,” they said.

“I see,” I said. “Which character is your son playing?”

“He’s playing someone called Gene Val Gene.”

I said, “I love Les Mis. When Victor Hugo first published Les Miserables in 1862, it was so popular, groups of workers pooled their limited wages to buy one copy to share.”

I said “Jean Val Jean is one of literature’s great examples of second chances, transformative redemption, forgiveness, keeping one’s word no matter what. And besides,” I added, “the music will make you laugh and cry, sometimes at the same time.”

“Is a Les Mis recording available?” the couple asked. We talked about the 10 th anniversary and 25 th anniversary Les Mis Dream Cast concerts. When we parted, I gave the couple my Church name card, and invited them to join me at a Tabernacle Choir concert when they next visited Salt Lake City. They later sent a nice note, and a Les Mis DVD.

When I think of that experience in Florida, and other similar experiences, I marvel at how the Lord helps us learn, grow, and serve in ways that seem individualized for our later needs and opportunities.

Think of it: HALO parachuting in North Carolina and Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables coming together in a laser-personalized conversation in a Florida airport.

It is almost as though the Lord is saying, “Gerrit, pay attention here. This is an opportunity to learn something you will need five years from now to talk with someone I will want you to meet.”

Subject: Lisa
Age: 16 years
Event: First day at school with braces
“How did it go at school today?” her mother asked as Lisa came in the house.
“Awful!” she complained. “One boy called me Metal Mouth. Another boy asked if he could use my mouth as an antenna for his radio. Kara said that at least it wouldn’t cut down on my dating, since Larry has told everybody that I’m cold and conceited.” She threw her books on the couch and ran to her room.

Illustrations by Scott Peck
Go past my house again, and I’ll hose you down!
What’s he mad about?
We weren’t even doing anything!
Let’s play basketball instead.
If that ball goes in my yard, you’ll never see it again!
Uh … I think I’m gonna head home.
Me too. See ya!
The next day, Dad and Carter go on a hike.
Whew, I’m tired! Let’s take a break.
You OK?
Mr. Maurice is really mean.
Well, his wife just died. Maybe he needs a friend. Try to be kind, OK? Jesus taught us to love everyone.
It’s easier to love some people than others.
Maybe. But everyone needs love.
Later …
Jesus would be nice to Mr. Maurice. Maybe I can try.
I want to help him. …But what if he gets mad?
Um … do you need some help?
Oh. Thank you. I’m planting my wife’s favorite flowers. You could help bring the rest from the garage.
If you want, we can try to get it running later..
Cool! I love trains.
How’s it going?
Great! Mr. Maurice showed me his electric train. We’re going to fix it later.
Later that day …
How about we build the track tomorrow?
Want to give it a try?
Whoa!
You know … Mr. Maurice isn’t so hard to love after all.

As a young adult, Elder Kearon met some missionaries in London from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints but wasn’t interested in their message. Later, the missionaries started teaching him about the gospel and he felt the Holy Ghost. While he was learning more about the Church, Elder Kearon received a priesthood blessing. He said it was a beautiful experience that helped him decide to join the Church. He got baptized on Christmas Eve when he was 26 years old.

When I was set apart for my mission to Chile I was told, “You will learn the true meaning of humility.” I recognized at the time that I probably had a problem with pride, and so I looked forward to what I might learn about humility. I think I assumed that I was going to learn this virtue by observation of its application in the lives of others, probably the people I was going to serve. But the Lord is a much more powerful teacher than that.

My oldest sister had served a mission while I was just six and seven years old. As long as I could remember, I had wanted to serve a mission, and, although I never would have said it this way, I was determined to be the “world’s greatest lady missionary.” I had listened for years to numerous stories told by my returned missionary friends and family of problems caused by lady missionaries (this was back in the old days when people didn’t think as highly of lady missionaries)—how the sisters couldn’t get along together, how they were always getting sick or needing the elders to do something, and how they slowed down the work. I was determined to not do any of those things; I was going to be exemplary.

And so I was off to Chile, where I worked very hard. Things were not always easy with my companions (isn’t that true of all missionaries, not just lady missionaries?), but we were able to work things out and get along. My companions and I worked hard, we followed the rules, and we had success. I felt that I was a good missionary, just as I had planned on being.

When I had been out in the field a little more than a year, I began to not feel well. At first I laughed at the way I felt, calling it hypochondria because my symptoms seemed to match the symptoms of people we visited who had health complaints. When someone complained of a headache, I smiled wryly because I felt that my head ached also. When someone complained that their side hurt, I was amused by that fact because I felt that my side hurt, too. When someone complained of being exhausted, I understood and considered myself quite sympathetic because I felt that way also. But the “world’s greatest lady missionary” would not stop and just kept on working. So things got worse. Food would go down, but it wouldn’t stay there for long. I remember more than one visit that we concluded quickly so we could get out in the street before I threw up. Because great missionaries do not get sick and stop working, I found a way to handle this problem also: I stopped eating.

One day after this had been going on for a while and we came home for lunch, I told my companion to go eat and I would just rest until it was time to go out again. When it was time to go she came up to the room. I literally could not get out of bed. It would have taken more energy than I had even to roll over and fall out of bed. We got a doctor. I had a severe case of hepatitis. The world’s greatest lady missionary was sick, and it was not so great.

When I could not get off that bed, I learned something about the true meaning of humility, something I was able to think about a lot as I recuperated from the hepatitis in the next few weeks. I learned that you do not go out and do missionary work, you do not keep the rules, you do not teach, you do not do one thing that good missionaries do (in fact, you do not do one thing that bad missionaries do), you do not get out of bed, you do not even draw a breath—unless God wills it. I learned gratitude to him not only for a missionary call, for a missionary plan, and for truth, but also for health to get out of bed and for the ability to breathe. I learned that all of those things are privileges, and I was thankful for them. I learned who was really in charge of the work I was doing. I don’t think that anyone observing from the outside could have seen the difference in my missionary work before and after the hepatitis. My companions and I worked hard during both times; we followed the rules and we had success. But internally I was different. I knew it and the Lord knew it, and he could trust me more.

President Hinckley’s sense of humor gives him a light touch in many settings. For example, while chairing a budget session held early one afternoon in which Church Educational System managers were presenting their budget needs for the coming year, feelings became intense. Another General Authority turned to President Hinckley and asked, “What do you think?” President Hinckley, who had been listening with his chin resting on the palms of his hands, replied: “I think I am never again going to have stuffed pork chops for lunch.” Everyone laughed, and the tension was diffused.

Andrew’s little sister, Samantha, kept playing with his things.
“Why can’t she leave my stuff alone?” he asked Mommy.
“Samantha is still little. She is still learning,” Mommy said. “But she loves you.”
He knew that. But it didn’t make him feel better. He was tired of sharing.
Andrew got out his crayons. He drew a picture of his grandma’s cat. Then he went to find Mommy.
“Can I send my picture to Grandma?” he asked.
“That’s a great idea,” Mommy said.
When Andrew came back, Samantha was coloring on the picture too.
“You ruined it!” he yelled.
Samantha started to cry. Andrew felt sad. He didn’t mean to make her cry.
“I’m sorry,” he said to Mommy. “But I’m tired of being a big brother.” He felt like crying too.
Mommy gave Andrew a hug. “I’m sorry she drew on your picture. Being a big brother can be hard. I’ll talk to Samantha about not touching your things without asking. And maybe we could also write down some things you like doing with her. Then when you’re upset with her, you can do one of the things on the list.”
Andrew thought about it. Then he nodded.
Andrew and Mommy worked on the list together.
I like playing with Samantha.
I like letting her use my toys sometimes.
I like it when Samantha hugs me.
I like reading books to her.
Andrew finished his list. Then he gave Samantha a hug. There were lots of good things about being a big brother!

Life on a cattle ranch is both stressful and faith-building. One time they needed to plant oats to feed the cattle. Kache and the other ranch hands were ready to plant—there was just one problem. “It was really dry and hot and there was no rain for the oats.” Kache says. “My dad asked us to pray for rain. After a few days, we got that rain. The oats were able to grow, and we were able to have food for our cattle.”

One day at school before I was eight, they were inspecting our hands and nails to see if they were clean, and the principal saw my CTR ring. After the principal checked the rest of my row, she came back to me and said, “Rebeca, come with me to the principal’s office.” Then she said to my teacher, “Can I take Rebeca for a while?”
In her office, she asked me what the ring meant. I said, “Choose the right.” I explained that at church they teach us to do good, pray, and read the scriptures. She asked which church I went to, and I said, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” Then she asked me what that church was about, and I told her about Joseph Smith going into a grove to pray and seeing the Father and the Son. I told her about going to the temple to be sealed to my parents and that I would be baptized when I was eight. She said, “You can tell me more later because you need to be in math class right now.”
Later I took the principal a copy of the Book of Mormon with my testimony inside.
I have a goal to be a missionary when I grow up. But right now I am trying to share the gospel with my friends.

We had a large LDS population in my hometown. I played in our high school band, but my band teacher did not like the Church and was always trying to discredit the Book of Mormon.
When we went on band trips, he would bring ideas from his church meetings with him and confront me. He found it entertaining to bash the Church, and I felt like I was the only one who would defend it.
At first I wanted to prove to him that he was wrong. He would tell me that every sin is equally as bad—murder and lying alike—and that there is really no repentance. Instead, we go through this life and as long as we acknowledge Christ as our Savior we will go to heaven.
I felt like the plan of salvation had suddenly been turned into a game of Monopoly. There are no free rides, I tried to explain. But he was not there to learn about my beliefs.
Since he was there in the spirit of contention (and I followed somewhat ignorantly), we just went around in circles. No matter what explanation I could offer, he would come up with something else to debate. It wasn’t until a year later that I realized what it was I was doing.
I had thought I was doing missionary work, but I was not. After studying the scriptures, talks, and lectures on the subject, I now know that if people are there with the intention to debate beliefs, they are not ready to hear the gospel. This seems so obvious to me now, but at the time I had no idea. People must open their hearts to receive the gospel message.
If we learn to share the gospel with those who truly want to learn, we can share the truth with them.
We need not contend, but instead we need to proclaim the gospel. It brings happiness to all who partake of it.

William leaned his rake against the side of the house and plopped down on the grass. Raking the leaves was hard work, but he and his sisters, Chloé and Amelia, were finally done. Way up above the tall Alps mountains he could see a plane fly by. He wondered where it was going.
William loved his little town near the French-Swiss border. People from all over the world visited here. He thought about the places he wanted to go, the people he could meet, and the adventures he might have someday.
He was startled out of his daydream by the crunch, crunch, crunch of footsteps in the yard next door.
“Pat must be getting ready to rake his leaves,” William said to his sisters. “I’m sure glad we’re done with ours.”
“Me too,” Chloé said.
But if raking leaves was hard for three people, it must be really hard for one! William thought. Pat’s wife, Pam, had just had surgery, so Pat would have to rake his leaves all by himself.
Mum always said, “When we’re helping, we’re happy!” William thought that probably meant helping Pat, even though they were tired and had already raked a whole yard.
William looked over at Chloé and Amelia, who were building tiny twig houses in the grass. “Should we go help Pat?” he asked. “We can help him finish pretty fast.”
Chloé and Amelia agreed and followed William. Even Samuel, who was only two, toddled behind them.
“Want some help?” Amelia asked as they walked around the bushes into Pat’s yard.
“I sure would! But you kids have been raking all afternoon. I bet you’re tired.”
“That’s OK,” William said. “We want to help. After all, when we’re helping, we’re happy!”
As they worked, Pat told the kids fun stories from his life. Pat was from India, but he had lived all over Asia and Africa.
After the leaves were bagged, William looked over and noticed the apples scattered around the two tall apple trees in Pat’s yard. Their work wasn’t quite done yet. William stooped down and started gathering apples. He sorted the rotten ones from the good ones as he went along. Chloé and Amelia ran over to put the apples in piles.
Pat rolled his old green wheelbarrow out from the shed. “Let’s put the rotten ones in here. Then you can take the good ones home with you.”
“That’s OK, Pat. We don’t need to take your apples,” William said.
“I want to give them to you,” Pat said. “After all, when I’m giving, I’m happy!”
That night during dinner, the children told Mum and Dad how much fun they’d had helping Pat and hearing his stories.
Suddenly William had an idea. “I know what we can do with the apples he gave us!” He jumped up and grabbed a copy of the Friend from the bookshelf. “I think Pat and Pam would really like this,” William said, turning to a recipe for apple cake. “And like Pat said today, when we’re giving, we’re happy!”
“Let’s make a cake for our other neighbors too!” Chloé said.
William grinned. He thought about all the people he could meet and the exciting stories he could hear. And all that through just a bit of kindness. And a bit of cake.

One day we had a special devotional on the Savior as part of our early-morning seminary class. The girl in charge bore her testimony of Christ, then asked each of us to share our feelings. Our teacher, Brother Pratt, added his testimony, and said we needed to know Christ died for each of us individually.
While I was listening to the others bear their testimonies, it occurred to me I wasn’t really sure I had a testimony of the Savior. I had always attended church and seminary classes, and I thought he was Heavenly Father’s Son, and an example to follow, but I wasn’t really sure of him as my Savior—someone so essential to my salvation.
I managed to give some sort of reply and spent the next several days pondering over the experience and praying to know for myself. I received a warm feeling that the Church was true and that I should live its teachings. I felt good about that answer and decided that having a basic testimony of the gospel and living the standards of the Church was enough. But I still didn’t understand the need for a Savior.
Later I moved from home. Eventually I faced a serious crisis that left me with deep emotional and spiritual pain. Without the necessary faith in Christ to guide me, I felt lost and alone. I had stopped praying sometime earlier and had just decided that I was no longer going to go to church. Then my home teachers, Dan and Terry, came by. I was a little embarrassed because I hadn’t been to church that day and had no good excuse for my absence. The Spirit told them that something was seriously wrong, so they persisted in presenting a lesson that seemed to be especially for me. They visited with me for a while, and when it was time for them to go, they offered a powerful prayer. The Spirit lingered after them for a short time, and I felt more hopeful than I had in a long time.
I wanted that Spirit to remain. I gathered up the remnants of my faith and offered a prayer. Because I hadn’t been praying for a while, I had no real hope or expectation of an answer. But as I knelt and prayed, I felt an overpowering warmth come into my heart. Complete love and understanding filled the room. I was surprised at the depth and strength of the Savior’s love—how well he knew me!
There was no room for misunderstanding or doubt as he lovingly empathized with my challenges. All of a sudden a black cloud lifted, and I knew, as words came into my mind, where I could improve, and the Savior promised me all the help I would need. I learned that there is indeed a loving Heavenly Father and a Savior, Jesus Christ, and that they know each of us as individuals. I also learned that they will give us the help we need as we extend our faith in them. And, no matter what, we must always pray.
Although I still had problems to overcome, I knew the Savior was there, ready to help; I have never felt completely alone with my problems since. I can now say, along with the hymn, “I know that my Redeemer lives” (Hymns, no. 136). And I am grateful.

The hills in southern Utah are as round and smooth as apples. In winter, snow blankets the rock. Even in spring, there are few plants. Wind-whipped, a level surface suddenly turns into gulches and blind canyons, cliffs falling thousands of feet to the rare river. In the winter of 1879–80, 230 people, 83 wagons, and 1,000 head of livestock made this unbelievable journey.

After the first four weeks of travel, their road ended at 40-Mile Spring. Snow filled the mountain passes behind them. The only possible way was through the rocky canyon lands to a crack, or hole, in the cliff that dropped 1,000 feet (over 300 m) down to the Colorado River. Using hand tools and the little bit of black powder they had, the men divided into three teams and began to work. The first team widened the crack.

The second team chiseled, blasted, and filled the trail, which they called a dugway. At first it couldn’t even be walked down. Men were lowered in half barrels to where they chiseled holes two inches (five cm) wide and 10 inches (25 cm) deep. Stakes were pounded into the holes, then covered with poles, brush, and dirt, thus tacking 50 feet (15 m) of road onto the cliff face. The finished road was 1,800 feet (550 m) long.

The third team worked on a steep dugway rising from the other side of the river for use once the wagons were ferried across the river.

After six weeks of hard work, on January 26, 1880, they started down through the hole-in-the-rock. The rear wheels of the heavily loaded wagons were chained. One man drove each wagon while as many as ten men held it back with ropes. The women and children preferred to walk and slide to the river. Not a single wagon was lost.

As mission president, he again found the Book of Mormon to be a constant source of inspiration, and he used it extensively in zone meetings and in counseling with the missionaries. He was an efficient, compassionate mission president. One of his missionaries, Wayne L. Gardner, remembers serving in an outlying area and receiving the assignment to make arrangements for a conference. “Everything went wrong,” he says. “I had scheduled a building for us to meet in, but at the last minute it was cancelled. By the time I got to the airport to get the president, I was late and he had been waiting. I forgot to ask the taxi driver to wait for us, and there weren’t any others in sight. We were stranded.
“Even though I could see frustration in the president’s eyes, he put his arm around me and told me he loved me. He was so patient and understanding. I hope I never forget that lesson.”

Some years ago while I was serving as a mission president, my wife, Evelia, witnessed a touching scene of happiness when she saw a faithful family enter the chapel. This mother and her two small children had walked from their humble home under oppressive heat to church that day. They never imagined they would find Elder Cruz, the dedicated missionary who, the year before, had shared the message of the restored gospel with them. This wonderful surprise was key in their recognizing the great happiness the gospel had brought into their lives. The children ran to embrace him, and while tears of joy ran down the cheeks of Elder Cruz, the mother clasped his hands in hers and profoundly thanked him for all he had done to bless their family. Surely they found that happiness which is prepared and reserved for the Saints.