Gospel Story Finder

Tom Christofferson provided a powerful example of how love created space for him in his lifelong wrestle with one of his own hard sayings. In his 2017 memoir “That We May Be One”: A Gay Mormon’s Perspective on Faith and Family, he recounted his own journey with homosexuality and the gospel. Although Brother Christofferson was careful to underscore that his experience was his alone and might not apply to all LGBTQ+ Latter-day Saints,10 his journey illustrated what a decisive role love can have as one makes hard decisions about his or her life.

A few years after he came out to his family and after he had asked to be excommunicated, his mother explained to his brothers and their wives:
The only thing we can really be perfect at is loving each other. . . . The most important lesson your children will learn from how our family treats their Uncle Tom is that nothing they can ever do will take them outside the circle of our family’s love.11

His family did not wait for him to return to church before they could fully love him,12 and at a much later point in his life, an inspired bishop and the Saints of New Canaan in Connecticut warmly accepted and supported him, not imposing any prequalifications.13

While this love eventually helped Brother Christofferson come back to full membership in the Church, it is clear that both his birth and ward families would have continued to love and fellowship him regardless of what choice he had made.

I saw the results of another great teacher while serving as the president of a single adult stake at BYU–Idaho. That experience changed my life. On one particular Tuesday evening, I interviewed a young man named Pablo, from Mexico City, who wanted to serve a mission. I asked him about his testimony and his desire to serve. His answers to my questions were perfect. Then I asked about his worthiness. His answers were exact. In fact, they were so good, I wondered, “Maybe he doesn’t understand what I’m asking him.” So I rephrased the questions and determined that he knew exactly what I meant and was completely honest.

I was so impressed with this young man that I asked him, “Pablo, who was it that helped you come to this point in your life standing so uprightly before the Lord?”

He said, “My dad.”

I said, “Pablo, tell me your story.”

Pablo continued: “When I was nine, my dad took me aside and said, ‘Pablo, I was nine once too. Here are some things you may come across. You’ll see people cheating in school. You might be around people who swear. You’ll probably have days when you don’t want to go to church. Now, when these things happen—or anything else that troubles you—I want you to come and talk to me, and I’ll help you get through them. And then I’ll tell you what comes next.’”

“So, Pablo, what did he tell you when you were 10?”

“Well, he warned me about pornography and dirty jokes.”

“What about when you were 11?” I asked.

“He cautioned me about things that could be addictive and reminded me about using my agency.”

Here was a father, year after year, “line upon line; here a little, and there a little,” who helped his son not only hear but also understand. Pablo’s father knew our children learn when they are ready to learn, not just when we are ready to teach them. I was proud of Pablo when we submitted his missionary application that night, but I was even prouder of Pablo’s dad.

I am the oldest of four children. When I was 10 years old, my sisters Kathleen and Kyla, my brother David, and I often scattered our toys around the house. To help us be more responsible, our parents bought us a cabinet. We liked to arrange our toys in the cabinet. Every morning before leaving for school, we checked to see if our toys were in their proper places. Kyla, who was three years old then, didn’t attend school yet.
One afternoon when we returned from school, we were horrified to find the toy cabinet empty. We called Kyla and demanded to know where our toys were. She pointed behind the bedroom door. There we saw our toys in a careless heap, some of them damaged.
I was so angry that I ordered Kyla out of the room. After we put our toys back in the cabinet, I took a pen and paper and wrote in bold letters “Kyla is not allowed to enter this room!” I stuck it on our bedroom door, and we called Kyla to read it. She didn’t know how to read yet, but she pretended she could, reading loudly, “J. J., I love you, from Kyla.”
I felt my cheeks turn red with shame. Kyla had shown me love despite my being angry with her. I will never forget that experience. Whenever I am tempted to be angry, it humbles me. Kyla taught me that we don’t have to be grown-ups to try to be like Jesus. We can start now.

Each family was given a wheelbarrow loaded with five large stones. They were told to continue up the path. Everyone was laughing and joking, and no one thought this last stretch would be hard at all. One strong boy could easily handle the loaded wheelbarrow, they thought—until they saw the last pull to the summit. It was so steep and slick that they would have a hard time just getting themselves up the hill. But their wheelbarrows and those loads of rocks would make it really hard work.
Each family figured out their own method for getting up the hill. ElRay Gene Hendricksen from the Hokksund Branch said, “We decided to share the burdens. Everyone took a stone out of the wheelbarrow. Two other guys took the empty wheelbarrow. We made it. We were the only family group who did it that way.”

Trying to find his father’s golf balls, which he had lost, is one of Michael Antone Neider’s first memories concerning the development of his faith.
Growing up in the small farming community of Tyhee, Idaho, he had sneaked his father’s golf clubs out of the garage and hit all the golf balls into their horse pasture. “I had no idea it would be so hard to find those balls in the tall grass. I felt a pressing need for divine help. After praying I went back out and found all but one of them, as well as a never-to-be-forgotten lesson that God loves me.”
Brother Neider says he’s not sure if the Lord would help him find those balls today. “As I’ve learned and grown, the Lord has expected more from me. I feel He has taught me to use more wisdom and faith in moving closer to Him.”

A fine member of the Church was talking with a neighbor who was not of our faith. When the topic of discussion turned to general conference, the neighbor asked, “You say you have prophets and apostles? And twice a year in a worldwide conference they reveal the word of God?”
“Absolutely,” the member replied with confidence.
The neighbor thought about that for a moment. He seemed genuinely interested and then asked, “What did they say in the last general conference?”
At this point the good member of the Church went from feeling excited about sharing the gospel to feeling embarrassed. Try as he might, he couldn’t think of the details of a single talk.
His friend found this troubling and said, “You mean to tell me that God speaks to man in our day and you can’t remember what He said?”
The brother felt humbled by this exchange. He vowed that he would do better to remember the words spoken by the Lord’s servants in general conference.

The fresh mountain air cooled my lungs as I laced up my boots. Next to me, my horse whinnied impatiently.
“I know, girl. I’m coming,” I said soothingly, as I stroked her reddish-brown mane.
I finished fastening the saddle, mounted, and was off. As I rode up the mountain, I thought of all the troubles that were weighing on my mind. I was a junior in high school—worried about friends, sports, final exams, and where to apply for college. Hundreds of thoughts swirled around in my brain. There were simply too many problems; I would never be able to solve them all. That’s really why I had come to the mountains. I needed to escape for a while.
After a time, I arrived at my favorite spot—a small out-of-the-way clearing that overlooks a mountain valley. I stopped my horse and said a small prayer in my heart.
“Heavenly Father,” I prayed, “I am so tired and so overwhelmed. Please give me some comfort. I just need a little peace.”
The answer came almost immediately. “Look up.”
As I raised my eyes, I was met with a scene of such astonishing beauty that I could scarcely breathe. All of my problems seemed to melt away as I soaked up the view. The farms in the valley were laid out like squares in a patchwork quilt, and on that day in May many of the fields had come to life in brilliant shades of green. What struck me most, however, was not the green. Throughout the fields of green were generous smatterings of the most vibrant yellow I had ever seen. The effect was mesmerizing, and it sparked my curiosity because I knew that there weren’t any local crops of that color.
I rode faster on the way down, eager to get to the valley floor and discover the source of that captivating yellow. When I reached the fields, I was astonished to find that the beauty that had so enchanted me didn’t come from anything exotic. The fields were filled with simple, unassuming dandelions.
I picked one small dandelion and brought it close to my nose. It was amazing to me how much difference perspective had made. From high above, I was quite taken in by the beauty of something that most people on the valley floor would call a weed. I would never have recognized its worth if I had not been prompted to look up and find the beauty in it.
I realized that I sometimes treat people the way most people treat the dandelion I held in my hand. I decide that they aren’t really worth my notice, without pausing to get to know them better or to think of how greatly the Lord values them. God knew that the dandelion was beautiful in its simplicity, even when most people couldn’t see it.
It occurred to me that I was much like the dandelion. Small and imperfect—but important and cherished in the eyes of my Heavenly Father. Elder Neal A. Maxwell of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (1926–2004) once said that “sometimes with smudges on our cheeks, dirt on our hands, and shoes untied, stammeringly but smilingly we present God with a dandelion—as if it were an orchid or a rose! If for now the dandelion is the best we have to offer, He receives it, knowing what we may later place on the altar” (That Ye May Believe [1992], 100).
Since that day I have never looked at a dandelion the same way. When I look at those little yellow flowers, I don’t see something to be stomped on, plucked up, or sneered at. I see effortless charm and loveliness. I will be forever grateful for the lesson I learned on that day—never judge someone or something until you have tried to see them from the Lord’s point of view, because the Lord, from His perspective high above mine, has a far better view and can much more easily judge the worth of flowers and of souls.

My grandma came to our house in Wyoming once. We live in a valley in the mountains. Sometimes deer and elk nibble at our trees. Grandma didn’t come to see the animals. She came to make lefse. She and Mom bought lots of red potatoes. I helped wash them. Then they mixed the potatoes with other things to make the lefse dough. The dough is like the quilt, because it is made up of many different pieces. The different pieces taste much better mixed together.
Grandma’s lefse has more potatoes than anything else. Our family is made mostly of potatoes. I mean that like the ingredients of lefse are mostly alike (potatoes), the members (ingredients) of our family are a lot alike—but not exactly. For instance, I like to make snow angels, but even though Grandma used to do that, now she usually stays inside on cold, snowy days. And we all go to church on Sundays, but Grandma goes to a different one.
Grandma and Mom made round balls out of the lefse dough. Then they flattened the balls into thin circles bigger than our dinner plates. The circles looked like tortillas, only tortillas are made of corn, not potatoes. I tried to make a “lefse tortilla,” but my circle looked like a squashed white tomato. Grandma started giggling when she saw it. I giggled too. Then Grandma fixed my lefse.
She and Mom cooked the lefse on our griddle until it made little brown spots on the dough. Using a long stick that looks like a sword, they picked up each lefse circle and turned it over. I tried to turn mine over, but it slid off the stick onto the stove. Grandma helped me put it back on the griddle. When the lefse was all cooked, we put butter and brown sugar on one side and rolled them up. It tastes really good! I like lefse.

As a non-member in high school, I remember admiring my member friends, knowing that they had something that was missing in my life. As a non-member, I went to Utah State University for my freshman year. There I had a member roommate who invited me to an institute dance. I was very impressed with the wholesome atmosphere of the dance. You could actually see around the dance floor. They had all the young ladies in an inner circle with all the young men in an outer circle and when the music stopped the person whom you were across from was the one with whom you danced. When the music stopped, I was across from the homecoming queen for Utah State University. I had a great time! But even though that activity was fantastic, my member roommate did something much more significant. He gave me a Book of Mormon, however it wasn't until three and a half years later when I was at the University of California at Davis that I took that Book of Mormon down off the shelf and started to read, study, and ponder about its truthfulness. After reading the first 75 pages, I received a witness of the Spirit that the Book of Mormon was true. I was at the time contemplating what I should do after graduating with my undergraduate degree from UC Davis. I was seriously looking at continuing on into graduate school and becoming a research scientist. I was concerned because the research scientists that I knew at UC Davis were spending, a lot of times, 16 hours a day in their research labs to the neglect of their families. I felt a real void in my life searching for the meaning of life. Then on page 75 of the Book of Mormon I came across these two verses in 2 Nephi Chapter 9, Verses 28 and 29, "O that cunning plan of the evil one! O the vainness, and the frailties, and the foolishness of men! When they are learned they think they are wise, and they hearken not unto the counsel of God, for they set it aside, supposing they know of themselves, wherefore, their wisdom is foolishness and it profiteth them not. And they shall perish." And then verse 29, "But to be learned is good if (italics added) they hearken unto the counsels of God." That is the key-to hearken (listen and obey) unto the counsels of God.

Well, I then proceeded to go back to my hometown in California and on Sunday drove to the local LDS Meetinghouse; walked in, asked to be introduced to the missionaries; and was baptized six weeks later at the age of 22.

As a young Primary girl, I worked diligently to cross-stitch a simple saying which read, “I will bring the light of the gospel into my home.” One weekday afternoon as we girls pulled our needles up and down through the fabric, our teacher told us the story of a girl who lived on a hill on one side of a valley. Each late afternoon she noticed on the hill on the opposite side of the valley a house that had shining, golden windows. Her own home was small and somewhat shabby, and the girl dreamed of living in that beautiful house with windows of gold.

One day the girl was given permission to ride her bike across the valley. She eagerly rode until she reached the house with the golden windows that she had admired for so long. But when she dismounted from her bike, she saw that the house was abandoned and dilapidated, with tall weeds in the yard and windows that were plain and dirty. Sadly, the girl turned her face toward home. To her surprise, she saw a house with shining, golden windows on the hill across the valley and soon realized it was her very own home!8

I was born in Fiji. My parents were not members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but they went to another church.
When I grew up, I married my wife, Anita. She was a member of the Church. She kept inviting the missionaries over to meet me.
One day I told them they could come to dinner for the next three nights. I said they had to use only the Bible to answer my questions. Their answers were perfect. On the third night, they asked me a question.
“If you had a grocery store, what would you call it?”
“I would call it the Wakolo Family Grocery Store because it’s my store,” I answered.
“Who should a church be named after?” they asked.
It was a great question. And I knew the answer with my heart and soul. The true Church would be named after Jesus because it’s His Church. And The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was named after Him!
I had just one more question: “When can I be baptized?” One week later, I was.
When I was baptized, I took upon myself Jesus Christ’s name. That means I became a member of His Church and promised to follow Him. I try my best every day to live as He did. I know that this is Jesus Christ’s true Church.

Before the two were married, they lived 100 miles (161 km) apart while he studied in Tijuana, and she studied in Mexicali. In the months before their marriage, they prayed and fasted to know where to live and start their family. Elder Casillas remembers the feeling he had from the Holy Ghost.
“I remember while we were fasting, hearing the Lord say, ‘If your mountain is La Rumorosa [a large mountain located between the two cities], I will take it away,’” Elder Casillas said.
He said the Lord cleared the path for the couple to be in Mexicali when the university there unexpectedly accepted him as a transfer student.
In Mexicali, “we met people we needed to meet. And we served in callings where we needed to serve,” he said.
This experience set a pattern for their life together. “When we put God first, all other things find their place,” Elder Casillas said. “It requires a little bit of faith and a little bit of action, and then the Lord extends His hand to bless us.”

One day Zoltán Szücs of Szeged, Hungary, surprised his kayaking coach by telling him that he wouldn’t be going to Germany for a competition.
“It was on the same day as my baptism, so I said no,” Zoltán said.
At age 17, Zoltán had won many competitions in kayaking. It’s a popular sport in Hungary, and Zoltán was good—good enough that becoming a professional was a real possibility. Beyond deciding to miss just one competition, Zoltán would soon give up kayaking entirely. He had something better to do.
Kayaking had been good for Zoltán. Over the years working with his coach, he had learned self-control, obedience, and hard work. Zoltán had also learned to avoid substances and habits that would hurt his performance. It wasn’t an easy life; it was lonely, and going pro would take up more time. Pros practice 12 hours a day and have to compete on Sunday.
“Kayaking took most of my time,” Zoltán says. “I was fanatical. Because of that, I left a lot of things out of my life.”
That’s why Zoltán decided that he couldn’t devote himself to both the gospel and kayaking. In 2004 he told his coach he wasn’t going to kayak anymore.
Earlier that year the missionaries started teaching Zoltán’s mom. He didn’t take part in the lessons. He grudgingly accepted his mom’s invitation to her baptism. But his heart was touched by what he felt once he entered the church building. Szücs agreed to meet with the missionaries, partly because he could identify with them.
“Missionaries were interesting to me because they were normal people but lived a higher standard,” he says.
Because of the higher standard that Zoltán was already living as a kayaker, he readily accepted the teachings of the gospel as valuable. He was baptized two months later.
At first he thought he could continue kayaking but not do competitions on Sundays. But because he’s the type of person who, once committed to an activity or course, wants to do well at it, he chose to give up kayaking entirely.
He tried once to kayak as a hobby after his baptism. When he did, his coach asked him to help teach others and organize trips since he wouldn’t compete. But he didn’t want to make commitments to kayaking—or any other activity—that could get in the way of his discipleship.
So Zoltán hung up his paddle and dedicated himself to Church service in a decision reminiscent of one President Howard W. Hunter (1907–95) made when he got married. President Hunter was an accomplished musician who played dozens of instruments. In the evenings he had been playing in an orchestra, but the lifestyles of those he associated with conflicted with gospel standards. So President Hunter put his instruments away and brought them out only occasionally for family sing-alongs.1
Zoltán misses kayaking, but he realized that his love for kayaking was strong enough to compete with, and possibly overcome, his love for the Lord if he stayed too close to the sport.
The same principle can apply to any activity that takes us away from who God wants us to be. For each of us it may be better to go through life without certain things—even if they are good things—rather than risk our eternal life to have them.
“The Church became my life,” Zoltán says. “Knowing that kayaking couldn’t be a living if I wanted to be active and that it would be just a hobby, it became easy to give up. Instead, I wanted to make Heavenly Father my focus.”
Zoltán began to study the gospel with the same intensity he brings to any pursuit. He set a goal to serve a mission. He wanted to stay in his country and teach others.
He served in Hungary and now works as a high school English teacher. He continues to set his priorities on the gospel. “There are things we need to give up because they get in the way of God,” he says. “It’s easy to give up the bad once we know we should. Often we don’t realize when we should give up something good for something better. We think that because it’s not bad, we can hold onto it and still follow God’s plan.” But Zoltán knows that we must give up the good if it keeps us from following God’s plan for us.

Two Temple Square missionaries sat in the well-worn pews of the Salt Lake Tabernacle, staring at a computer screen as I taught them how to upload their video footage to a video-editing program.
Then I had this moment hit me: here we were, using the internet and complex software, sitting inside a building that was built in the 1800s. So many amazing teachings have been shared in this building. Over the past 155 years, its audiences have heard from hundreds of notable speakers at its pulpit, including Brigham Young, 12 different presidents of the United States, Susan B. Anthony, and Helen Keller.
And now, in such a historic building, we were embarking on a new frontier in the Lord’s work, an innovation in missionary work: me, a YouTuber, helping missionaries learn how to create video content for social media.

Lately I have been thinking of a time in my life when the weight of worry and concern over an uncertain future seemed ever present. I was 11 years old and living with my family in the attic of a farmhouse near Frankfurt, Germany. We were refugees for the second time in a period of only a few years, and we were struggling to establish ourselves in a new place far away from our previous home. I could say that we were poor, but that would be an understatement. We all slept in one room that was so tiny there was scarcely space to walk around the beds. In the other small room, we had a few pieces of modest furniture and a stove that Mother used to cook meals on. To get from one room to the other, we had to pass through a storage area where the farmer kept his equipment and tools, along with assorted meats and sausages hanging from the rafters. The aroma always made me very hungry. We had no bathroom, but we did have an outhouse—down the stairs and some 50 feet (15 m) away, though it seemed much farther during wintertime.
Because I was a refugee and because of my East German accent, other children often made fun of me and called me names that deeply hurt. Of all the times of my youth, I believe this may have been the most discouraging.
Now, decades later, I can look back on those days through the softening filter of experience. Even though I still remember the hurt and despair, I can see now what I was unable to see then: this was a period of great personal growth. During this time, our family bonded together. I watched and learned from my parents. I admired their determination and optimism. From them I learned that adversity, when confronted with faith, courage, and tenacity, could be overcome.

In early 2005 I learned that both BYU–Hawaii and Chaminade, a Catholic university in Honolulu, were celebrating their jubilee anniversaries. I approached the presidents of both schools (BYU–Hawaii President Eric B. Shumway and Chaminade President Sue Wesselkamper) about the idea of a joint celebration on each campus and explained that it seemed natural to share this wonderful interfaith story that seemed to have commenced with the friendship between Damien and Napela. They listened attentively and agreed to it.

One important factor that no doubt aided in the acceptance of the proposal was when I initially met with President Wesselkamper and another Chaminade administrator and asked if we could begin our meeting by reading some of the comforting words that had been recently spoken by President Gordon B. Hinckley at the April 2005 general conference regarding the passing of Pope John Paul II. On this occasion President Hinckley stated:

I extend to our Catholic neighbors and friends our heartfelt sympathy at this time of great sorrow. Pope John Paul II has worked tirelessly to advance the cause of Christianity, to lift the burdens of the poor, and to speak fearlessly in behalf of moral values and human dignity. He will be greatly missed, particularly by the very many who have looked to him for leadership.34

I believe these inspired words helped strengthen a friendship with Chaminade and open the way for the proposal that came to fruition during the fall of 2005. During this period I presented the Kalaupapa story of interfaith collaboration to students and faculty on both campuses as part of the jubilee celebrations.

A few years ago, on the day of my parents’ anniversary, my mom was diagnosed with a stage 4 pancreatic cancer. The results of her CT scan showed that her cancer was life-threatening and her body was deteriorating. It was in that moment that I knew my mom wouldn’t live much longer.
I was not ready for that. I foresaw what life would be without my mom. Everything was dark, gloomy, and sad. There was no more joy or laughter—and no warm hugs from my mom that would comfort me. There didn’t seem to be life at all.
Months passed by and my mom’s body continued to weaken. But what amazed me the most was her desire to go to church, participate in our daily family scripture study, give lessons in our family home evenings, and even laugh with us.
One day, I asked her, “Haven’t you questioned Heavenly Father? Haven’t you wondered why you have to have cancer?” My mom smiled and shared her testimony about the plan of salvation. She told me that I needed to understand the plan of salvation to feel the genuine happiness that it gives. She said if I understood where we come from, what our purpose in this life is, and where we are going, I would understand that we will always be together, that I would never really lose her. She encouraged me to continue preparing for a mission and to share the gospel of Jesus Christ and the plan of salvation with others so that they could receive the blessings of comfort and happiness as well.
I realized that my mom was right. Why would I fear losing her here on earth if I knew that as long as I kept my covenants and completed the will of the Father that I would see her in the next life? I felt peaceful.
A little while later, my mom passed away. During my mom’s wake—a celebration of her life we held before her burial—even though it was hard and I was sad, everything seemed peaceful, and I could still feel my mom’s presence. Even the people around me seemed to be uplifted. I knew that I was feeling the true blessing of understanding God’s divine plan.

It was Sunday, and my family and I were attending the dedication services of a newly remodeled meetinghouse in our area. Just a few minutes before sacrament meeting, the stake president asked me to please drive to our ward building, three kilometers away, to retrieve an item he needed. I had just enough time to get there and back. While completing that simple errand, I had an experience that touched me spiritually—a wonderful reminder of what is important.
With just a few blocks left to go to return to the meeting, I saw ahead of me two bicycles, one large and the other quite a bit smaller, each being ridden very energetically. I recognized the cyclists at once. They were two people I knew well, a good brother from my ward and his young son. They were riding to church—just as they did every Sunday.
As I watched them, there came to my mind an image out of the future, when that boy—and his father too—will remember those bicycle rides. I thought, “What a great example this father is setting and what an eternal influence he is going to have on the precious son God has given him. That boy,” I reflected, “may grow up to cherish that experience, and perhaps he will repeat it when he becomes a father himself.”
As I caught up to them, there sprang to mind an image of my childhood memories of my own father, who used to carry me on the handlebar of his bicycle. The close relationship that develops from these kinds of experiences is a pleasure to have and tender to remember.
When I got to church, I greeted the bicycle riders with a smile and received the same in return as they expressed silent happiness to be attending church. At priesthood meeting that afternoon, I had a chance to express to this brother how impressed I had been with the picture of righteous fatherhood I had seen earlier. His face brightened, and perhaps he was surprised because what I described was such a common occurrence for him.

Both Katya’s and Ivana’s families joined the Church shortly after the Kyiv Ukraine Mission was organized in 1992. But both families drifted into inactivity before either girl was old enough to be baptized.
Ivana’s family moved when she was 13 to a home near a Latter-day Saint chapel. As she and her mother walked past it, her mother remembered the goodness the Church had brought into her life. She encouraged Ivana to go to church. “My mother knew that in the Church they would teach me only good things in comparison to the world,” Ivana says. She began attending church and activities and meeting with the missionaries, and when the missionaries asked her if she would be baptized, she agreed.
At age 15 Katya was returning from a trip with a community youth group. She was surprised when her father told her that he had invited the missionaries to teach her. He made it clear that while she was welcome to listen, he was not interested.
Katya set a time to meet with the missionaries. “As I listened, I felt that this is the right way to go. I remembered those feelings I’d had going to church as a child. And after a while, I decided to be baptized,” she says.
Both young women had to make adjustments to become members of the Church, and Personal Progress helped them make the transition. “I was still growing. I had my own habits. Even my manner of dress needed to change,” Katya recalls. “Personal Progress little by little helped me change. It gave me power to be a daughter of God, not just in church but every day.”
Through Personal Progress, Ivana and Katya were able to establish habits that would spiritually strengthen them, such as prayer, scripture study, and watching appropriate media. They also learned how to teach lessons and serve others. Overall, it helped them draw closer to God and become better examples to their families.
“Personal Progress helped me. Every completed assignment gave me growth; it added knowledge and courage,” Ivana says. “It was especially good for me because most members of my family aren’t active members of the Church.”
The changes Ivana made through Personal Progress helped her be an example to her family. “All this time my parents have seen how I’ve changed. They were very happy that I was going to church,” Ivana says. She attended church and activities alone until one day her mother decided to come with her to sacrament meeting. Now they attend church together.
Katya’s example also touched the lives of her family. Shortly after Katya joined the Church, her mother started to come with her and then her father. The families of both of these young women noticed the difference Personal Progress and Church activity made in Katya’s and Ivana’s lives. They saw how happy they had become and wanted to take part in that joy.
The joy of Katya and her family continued to grow. As Katya participated in Personal Progress, she noticed that it focused on the importance of the temple. “There is a whole section dedicated to going to the temple, and I really wanted to get to the temple, but my parents weren’t ready,” she remembers.
Katya was able, however, to attend the temple with her seminary class. She recalls, “I did temple work for the first time. I was really happy, and I wanted to go again. I really wanted my family to go there and be sealed for eternity.”
Katya’s family prepared and finally felt that they were ready to go to the temple. Two years after her first visit to the temple, Katya returned, this time with her family. “I understood that it really is a place where families can become eternal,” Katya says. They were sealed in the Freiberg Germany Temple.
Katya and Ivana are grateful for the Church, and both have benefited from its offerings, especially Personal Progress. “My testimony of Personal Progress is that it makes us stronger and helps us be perfected in every aspect of our lives,” says Katya.
Ivana feels that Young Women and Church organizations have helped her prepare to be a missionary. Ivana is positive about missionary work. She says, “Don’t get discouraged, but always be an example of how the Church changes our lives. We’re happy in it, and every person wants to be happy. And if we take people and show them that happiness, then they will follow our example. We always can—with small steps—help those people, serve them, and in some wonderful moment, they will be ready.”

When we were a young married couple our Bishop asked to give to the ward building fund, we knew that helping the Lord would bring blessing so we said yes. When my husband was called as the 1st counselor in the Young Men's presidency and I was called to be the Young Women's president with two small children and a full load of classes, we turned to the Lord for help and he helped us every step of the way and we grew as a result of serving the youth. Don't ever put the Lord second in your life and you will always feel comfortable turning to Him when you need Him.