Gospel Story Finder

From Sister Rose Hopper, Jandakot Ward, Western Australia Southern River Stake
In 2022, the Australia Southern River Stake held a Christmas musical devotional. The music was from Kenneth Cope’s Greater than Us All album, which details the Saviour’s life from birth to death. I participated as a narrator, using scriptural references to contextualise each song. I have always felt the Holy Spirit through music, so it was an incredibly uplifting experience to be a part of a beautiful devotional, enhanced by the talented members of my stake. There, the Spirit confirmed to me the truth of the Saviour’s life and the significance of His birth and Atonement; the tomb really was empty on the third day.
I especially liked the song “His Hands,” which testifies of the significance of Christ’s ministry and of His love for me. The devotional was the perfect way to start the Christmas season. As we focused on the life of our Saviour, I gained a greater appreciation for His sacrifice. I also invited a friend—who belongs to another Christian denomination—along, and she told me afterwards that the lyrics helped her reflect on her own relationship with Jesus Christ. I’m so grateful for the testimony I have developed and cultivated through the music of the Church.

I recall a person who was in despair because she could not seem to stop patterns of relating that continually got her into morally compromising situations. She had tried hard to repent and to achieve self-understanding. I learned that she had seen many therapists, but none had helped sufficiently. As we talked, I realized that she was suffering from complex emotional conflicts. If such emotional conflicts are untreated or not properly diagnosed and skillfully treated, they can repeatedly undermine efforts to change. This can cause relapses in efforts to repent.

I explained to my friend that her problem was complex and that her reports showed her previous counseling was inadequate for her case. We then arranged for therapy with a person skilled in treating her type of problem. A few months later she appeared at my office aglow with optimism. She was working hard and succeeding in unraveling the strands of emotional dysfunction that had impaired her ability to gain self-control. She is on the way to a more fulfilling life because her self-understanding and her knowledge of the gospel are no longer clouded by the pathology of the past. Counseling can be very helpful if the technique is correct, the counselor is skilled, and the method is in harmony with gospel principles. But, as Elder Richard Scott has pointed out, after all we can do, it is the Lord who heals us and blesses us to go forward in a new way of life (see “To Be Healed,” Ensign, May 1994, pp. 7–9).

On the word poison, indulge me for a brief visit to the Holy Land.

Here was a group of BYU students sent out to have a "kibbutz" experience, which meant cutting back certain trees. They were warned when they went into this grove. "Somewhere out there you may run onto a thing—, black. They are known as vipers. Don't touch them! As soon as you see one, call us; and we will take care of it." We had an older student who'd had some experience with snakes. He came onto one. He took hold of it right up by the top of the neck. Instantly the viper turned and bit him, and his arm began to swell almost visibly. They ran. They ran for what they thought was the antidote. They gave him a shot. It wasn't the antidote. It was a tetanus shot. And by the time he realized he had not been given the antidote, he was already in critical condition. They took him to the hospital. Ann and I both visited. He barely survived after a priesthood blessing. The pain, the anguish, the swelling, the almost black-looking hand were unspeakably horrible. You live, as the Master said you would, in a generation of vipers. And I won't dwell on it except to tell you that the use of drugs is addictive; the use of pornography is addictive; the use of other substances that are now being called date drugs are not only poison, they will kill you. They will burn your brain ultimately. They will destroy your conscience. And you get to the point where you care about only one thing—own habit. And you will hurt your loved ones, and you will be unworthy of serving the Lord in His kingdom. Now there is always through Christ a way of starting back, but preventive medicine is better than medicine. I plead with you. If you don't start, you never have to stop.

He learned to work hard and long on his father’s farm, and he was not one to give up easily. When he was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in 1943, he was shocked, overwhelmed, and humbled. In his first talk as an Apostle at the October 1943 general conference, he testified:
“I remember reading that Jacob wrestled all night, ‘until the breaking of the day,’ for a blessing; and I want to tell you that for eighty-five nights I have gone through that experience, wrestling for a blessing. Eighty-five times, the breaking of the day has found me on my knees praying to the Lord to help me and strengthen me and make me equal to this great responsibility that has come to me.”

Photo illustration by David Stoker
When I was 12, the girls I thought were my four best friends decided they didn’t want to be friends with me. They began to say horrible and hateful things about me. I felt unloved, unwanted, unneeded, and worthless. I thought I would never feel happy again.
I tried and tried, but the happiness just never came. I didn’t want to do anything, and I stopped participating in school activities. After a few months of feeling like everything was falling apart, I started to hide my feelings and pretend to be happy.
I stopped praying, and I complained anytime I had to go to church or midweek activities. My former friends had constantly teased me about being a member of the Church. I told myself that if I stopped going to church and living the standards, I could get my friends back.
I tried and tried, but the happiness just never came.
But after a few months, I realized that I needed to rely more on the Savior when I was feeling hurt and lonely. Jesus Christ felt all of my pain. He died on the cross for me, and I was setting aside His sacrifice and His gospel. I started complaining less and less until, finally, Sunday was my favorite day of the week.
Even after going to church, something still didn’t feel right. I decided I needed to pray. I couldn’t remember the last time I had prayed. Before I could think twice about it, I knelt down and started to pray. I cried to Heavenly Father about everything that had happened. I apologized for forgetting Him when He was what I needed most.
After I finished my prayer, I had a very strong impression to go look at my scriptures. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just opened up to a random page and started reading. I came across Mosiah 26:31: “Ye shall also forgive one another your trespasses; … he that forgiveth not his neighbor’s trespasses when he says that he repents, the same hath brought himself under condemnation.”
After I finished my prayer, I had a very strong impression to go look at my scriptures.
I realized that my pain and unhappiness weren’t simply caused by what those girls had said or done to me. I was unhappy because I was holding a grudge against my former best friends, and I blamed myself for letting them hurt me. By not forgiving them or myself, I became my biggest bully.
I prayed that I would be able to forgive the girls who had hurt me and that I could forgive myself. Forgiving them was so hard for me, and it took a while. Forgiving them was like letting a piece of myself fall away. But after fully forgiving them, I felt that I could move on and learn from what happened to me by helping the people around me who might be struggling.
I don’t know why I let myself be sad for over a year, and I honestly have no idea why I thought being away from the Church would make me happier. Clearly, I was wrong. Even though it was still hard to feel happy and to forgive after that time, keeping an eternal perspective and focusing on Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation really helped me. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were there for me the whole time I was struggling; I had just been too stubborn to turn to Them. I’m glad I eventually did.
I am grateful for what I learned from my experience. I am a stronger, more compassionate, all-around better person because of it. I have been able to help so many people through their hard times because of my own. I have a strong belief that trials really can lead to blessings when we turn to God.
The author lives in Utah, USA.

In junior high school we were all required to take a music class. In this class we all had to audition for the school choir. The teacher would call your name, and you would have to go stand in front of the sneering class, by yourself, and sing what you were asked to. The teacher called out the names Larson, and then Murphy, and then I knew that my time of reckoning was nigh. I started to panic and asked to be excused to get a drink of water. While I was out in the hall, I dreamed up the most elaborate plans for my instant escape. I wanted to run away, but my feet carried me back into class just in time to hear my name read. I walked slowly to the front of the room and was asked to sing one scale. That was all. My voice did not go nearly as high or quite as low as some of the others had, but at least it did not crack. I had wanted to sing more, to prove that I could miraculously do better, but I was told that I could now please take my seat. I was sure that I had not done well enough, but to my surprise, when the list of the choir members was posted, my name was on it. Now, singing is certainly not one of my stronger talents, yet my greatest victory was still to come.

One afternoon we were in the auditorium practicing for an upcoming concert. We were being arranged on the bleachers according to our height. I was near the top. Our director stood back to evaluate the scene, but she was not satisfied with our appearance. She told the girl who was next to me that she was not quite tall enough to stand on our row. The girl spoke up politely and said, “It helps me to stand here next to Gay because it’s easier to get the notes right.” At that moment I felt as if I had conquered all doubts.

Our talents need to be shared and it is through this that we find real happiness. “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16).

One evening after the United States Navy destroyer on which I served left Pearl Harbor for the North Pacific, I was the officer of the watch for the night shift. I retired to my bunk after supper to get some sleep before going on duty. I felt the roll of the ship as I was dropping off to sleep. Later when I relieved the watch, the roll was more pronounced, and as I stepped out into the blackness of the open bridge, I felt the bite of the wind.
During the winter the North Pacific can be quite rough, and that night the waves were large enough that the wind was starting to catch their crests and cause a white streaking of foam.
“I am ready to relieve you, sir,” I said.
The officer on duty’s face reflected the soft glow of the compass, and he reported the ship’s course and speed. He added that the captain had turned in for the evening, then said, “The barometer has dropped three-hundredths in the past hour.” This meant stormy weather.
“Does the captain know this?” I asked.
“Yes, but he did not leave any special orders.”
He closed the door to the pilothouse behind him, and I found myself alone looking out at a menacing sea.
When ships encounter heavy weather, officers are to keep the ship’s bow heading into the wind with just enough speed to maintain steering. If waves strike the ship broadside, heavy rolling occurs, which can cause injury to the crew or even capsize the ship.
After an hour the waves had become mountainous. The wind was howling, and sheets of water were being blown through the air from huge cresting waves. The ship would climb the front side of the approaching wave, reach the crest, hang momentarily, then glide swiftly down the back side of the wave, plunging into the trough and resurfacing with water running over the deck, all the while pitching and shuddering. To steady the ship I had to reduce speed.
As the storm increased, I learned that the barometer had dropped another five-hundredths. I called the captain to report the worsening conditions. He simply replied, “Very well,” and hung up.
Soon the helmsman called out to me, “I am having trouble, sir. She is falling off to starboard!” I quickly checked the compass and discovered that the bow was inching toward the trough. If that continued, we could end up in a dangerous position broadside to the waves. I ordered the helmsman to make the necessary adjustment, but before long the needle started drifting back. The helmsman tried to correct the drift again, but the ship was slow to respond.
Conditions were worsening. The wind was now shrieking at about 100 miles (160 km) per hour, the waves were 50 feet (15 m) high, and the ship’s bow kept moving toward the trough. Fear rose inside me because I knew if one of these waves hit us broadside, the ship could quite possibly capsize. I called the captain, who was awake because the violent motion of the ship made it impossible to sleep. He was worried too. He did not have any advice but told me to do the best I could.
The helmsman informed me with a frightened voice that he had done all he could, but the bow was still drifting to starboard. I was utterly desperate and fear was turning to panic as I continued my frantic mental search for a solution. The most nightmarish thoughts flooded my mind. I felt helpless and entirely humbled.
In my childlike state, I cried out to the only one who could help me—my Heavenly Father. The answer to my impassioned plea was immediate and clear. A voice in my mind said, “Use your engines. Use your engines in opposition.” I instantly understood.
I ordered, “Starboard engine ahead two-thirds. Port engine ahead one-third.” Slowly the ship’s bow responded by moving out of the impending trough. As the ship headed back into the waves, a great feeling of gratitude engulfed me. The storm continued, but I was able to maintain the ship’s direction by adding to one engine and subtracting from the other.
A skeptic might say the solution was in my mind all the time, but I know better. It came in answer to prayer.

Perhaps less visible than the Prophet’s father, but equally important in shaping and influencing his life, was his mother, Lucy Mack Smith. She gave birth to 11 children and endured faithfully as all but 4 preceded her in death. During her life, she watched six of her immediate family and one grandson die as a result of ruthless mob violence and persecution.

Early in her marriage, Lucy prepared herself to raise a prophet. On one occasion she became seriously ill, and the doctors said she would die. Lucy records that she “made a solemn covenant with God that if He would let me live I would endeavor to serve him according to the best of my abilities.” After a voice assured her that she would live, she told her mother, “The Lord will let me live, if I am faithful to the promise which I made to him, to be a comfort to my mother, my husband, and my children.”3

She gave continual encouragement, support, and strength to her son, Joseph the Prophet. His mother was the first person with whom young Joseph shared some of his momentous experiences of the Sacred Grove. Years later, he shared with her the joy and relief he felt when the Lord allowed others to view the sacred plates of gold.4

The Prophet’s mother shared also in his sorrows, sufferings, and persecutions. One time a mob took Joseph and his brother Hyrum prisoner and threatened to shoot them. The two brothers were confined under a cloth cover in a wagon. Their courageous mother risked her life and forced her way through the hostile mob to comfort her sons. Joseph and Hyrum could not see their mother and could only extend a hand from under the confining cover. As Lucy’s hand and the hands of her sons touched, the wagon drove off, literally tearing the sorrowing mother from her two sons.

Like great parents of all ages, Lucy turned to prayer for divine help to sustain her family. During the march from Ohio to Missouri known as Zion’s Camp, Joseph and Hyrum were seriously ill with cholera, and their lives were almost taken. At one point, “Hyrum sprang to his feet and exclaimed, ‘Joseph, we shall return to our families. I have had an open vision, in which I saw mother kneeling under an apple tree; and she is even now asking God, in tears, to spare our lives. … The Spirit testifies, that her prayers … will be answered.’”5

Lucy’s sons Joseph and Hyrum ultimately sealed their testimonies with their blood. As the grieving mother looked upon their lifeless remains, she cried, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken this family!” As a kind blessing to a faithful mother, the Lord softened her grief and granted to her the peace that only God can bestow. A voice spoke to her soul: “I have taken them to myself, that they might have rest.”6

Someone has said it this way: “Thee lift me, and I’ll lift thee, and we’ll ascend together.” What does that mean? I can remember an experience in my life that illustrates this idea. I was at Harvard Business School. I was stretched to my capacity. In the first year of that institution, the teachers take away every bit of self-confidence you have, no matter what your background is before you get there, so that you learn what it’s like to have to achieve more than you’ve ever done in your life before. The program is designed to teach you how to think under pressure. They try to duplicate real life.

At an important point in my schooling, a mission president, John E. Carr, asked me to be an elders quorum president. It is the only time in my life that I ever questioned an assignment. I went home to talk to my wife. For every woman here and every man here the question will come in life, “When is the time to serve? When is the right time?” The only answer I can give you is, “When you are asked.” So I went home and said to my wife, “There is a chance of failing in my schooling if I become an elders quorum president.” She said to me the words which have helped for many years: “Bob, I would rather have an active priesthood holder than a man who holds a master’s degree from Harvard.” But as she put her arms around me, she said, “We’ll do them both.” That is eternal partnership.

“Thee lift me, and I’ll lift thee, and we’ll ascend together”—that’s the message.

One Sunday after church, my mother, my brothers, and I were in the car ready to go home. But we could not find the car key. Our dad had put all our bags in the car and walked home with my younger sister in the stroller. We looked everywhere for the key, but we could not find it. In Primary and family home evening, I have learned that we should always pray when we need help. I told my mom that we should pray so Heavenly Father could help us. My mom was very happy, and we prayed together. Suddenly our grandmother drove up and brought us the key. Our dad had accidentally taken the key and sent it back with our grandmother. I know that Heavenly Father helped us by sending our grandmother. He will always help us, even through other people.

It all begins with the best of friends. One friend invites two friends to find out about something different, and then those two friends go about telling their friends and families about it. These friends and families in turn tell their friends and relatives, and soon it becomes one big chain reaction with a lot of wonderful twists and turns. And how did it really start? With a simple invitation.
Yes, that’s what 17-year-old Christine Siton of the Santa Mesa Ward, Manila Philippines Stake, always does. She invites people to know more about the Church. With the encouragement of her Latter-day Saint family (they are some of the first Filipino pioneers in the Church), Christine is always willing to let others feel the kind of happiness she feels as a member, while she tries to set a good example for her barkada, or group of friends. “The gospel and my family are the two greatest priorities in life,” she says.
And because of her example, 25 different people—seven families and four individuals—all became members of the Church. This remarkable harvest of souls came after she simply invited her two friends to seminary. It’s a story that seems too good to be true.
“A friend in high school, Bernard Vergano, asked about my beliefs,” Christine relates. Bernard was apparently impressed with Christine’s standards. “When our other friends decided to watch an obscene movie,” Bernard recalls, “she immediately separated from them, and that made me find out more about her.”
Bernard’s best friend, Richard Becerro, also noticed that Christine always carried and read some religious books. “I was curious that someone so young as her knew a lot of Bible verses,” says Richard, “and that she would even quote them to us when we got together after classes.” Bernard and Richard then found out that Christine was an active member of the Church.
One day Bernard asked Christine if it was okay for a Mormon to go out with someone who is not LDS. “Sure, it’s okay,” Christine replied, “but it’s better if the person is a Latter-day Saint.” A few days later, Bernard was sitting with Richard on a school stairway when Christine happened to pass by. Still mystified about Christine’s beliefs, Bernard asked her about the unusual classes she attended after school. Christine invited both of them to attend those unusual classes—seminary.
They didn’t think twice about attending. Soon the two friends became super-active seminary students, and that started a remarkable chain of conversions. Christine referred Bernard and Richard to the missionaries, and both agreed to be baptized. However, it wasn’t an easy decision.
“A Catholic school was offering us a college scholarship as long as we didn’t change our religion,” says Richard. And not only that, Bernard’s parents were reluctant to give their consent.
But so great was their desire to join the Church that they gave up the scholarships. And when she saw the positive changes in her son, Bernard’s mother gave her consent. The two friends were baptized, and with encouragement from Christine and other ward youth, they set good examples to everybody. And look what happened.
Bernard’s younger brother, Roger, saw the changes in his older brother, and he agreed to be visited by the missionaries. He was eventually baptized. Then, “my classmate, Mario Baniaga, got interested in the Church also,” Roger relates. Mario was baptized, and that, in turn, aroused the curiosity of Vicky, Mario’s sister. She was baptized too.
In between basketball games, Bernard introduced the gospel to another friend, Larry Rodelas. “I was wondering what got him to change his beliefs,” says Larry, who also agreed to listen to the missionaries. Soon Larry, his mother, Linda, and sister Eunice all joined the Church. But Bernard did not stop there—his other best friend and basketball chum Richard Virrey also joined the Church.
Richard Becerro, on the other hand, was such a good example to his family that his mother, Carmelita, and sisters Arlene, Irene, Crismilita, and Grace were all converted. “I became happier when I joined the Church,” Irene adds, “and I wanted my best friend to feel that kind of happiness, too.” That best friend, Flor Antido, was baptized, along with Naty Cruz, a friend of Richard’s mother whom she referred. And although Richard’s father did not become a Latter-day Saint, his good friend George Alegado did.
Doing things together has helped make this amazing link longer. As stake missionaries, Bernard and Richard visited with Brother and Sister Bangkong, a less-active couple. “We did a lot of fellowshipping with them,” says Bernard, “and we never stopped inviting them back to Church,” adds Richard. The couple came back to the Church and had their children Isaiah, Althea, and Desiree baptized.
The link also created new twists. Two of Christine’s cousins, Sharon and Shailani Realigue, noticed the special kind of friendship between their cousin and her two friends. Christine introduced the Church to them, they were baptized, and the two cousins started to help reactivate less-active young women. They visited with Margie Paragoso, and that led the way for the baptism of Margie’s mother, sister-in-law, and cousin. “I really think this wouldn’t be possible were it not for my cousin’s example,” Sharon says.
Many of these converts hold callings where they serve faithfully. Some are working with the youth also; Roger Vergano and Richard Virrey serve in the Young Men presidency, while Irene Becerro serves in the Young Women presidency. Many of them are also referring other friends and relatives to the missionaries.
The chain’s links are still expanding, this time in an even more interesting way. Bernard and Richard are now serving missions and in fact entered the mission field on the same month and are serving in the Philippines Cagayan de Oro and Philippines Davao Missions.
“When I share how it is to feel the Spirit to a family we’re now teaching,” shares Elder Vergano, “I can’t help but think of how I felt when Christine introduced the missionaries to us.” And, says Elder Becerro, “I always relate to our investigators how our family became closer after we joined the Church, because I know it can help them make the right decision.”
Right now Christine is serving in the ward Young Women presidency, and she continues to inspire other youth in setting good examples. “Before he died,” Christine recalls of her father, who served as a stake patriarch, “my dad would always encourage us to live the gospel in such a way that we could be a light to others.”
All of the Siton siblings are trying to do just that, with Christine leading the way. Looking at all the people who were baptized, she simply smiles. “Nothing can compare with the happiness I feel in knowing that I have become a part of somebody else’s life for good,” she says, “and I know that it all starts with living the gospel.”

The morning had started out with a beautiful sunrise as 17-year-old James Little and his father went about their morning chores. In 1869 there was always plenty of work to do on the farm. Horses, cows, and other animals needed to be fed, stalls cleaned, and the cows needed to be milked. But today, instead of going through the same old routine, James’s father had asked James to go out on the desert where their cattle grazed and round up an old steer that was ready to butcher. James eagerly packed a coat, a canteen of water, and a light lunch his mother had prepared for him.
A newly broken young horse paced in the corral. After several attempts at trying to catch him, James was finally able to slip a bridle around his head and saddle him. He wrapped his lasso around the saddle horn and set off to find the steer.
James traveled until mid-afternoon without stopping. He gazed across the barren, dusty landscape of southern Utah. Dry desert grasses and scrub-brush dotted the ground. James could see no sign of the old steer.
The horse was restless and tired, and James knew they both needed a rest and some food. About a mile away he could see a small grove of trees and decided that it would be a good place to stop.
The young horse loped over to the grove of trees, eager to be relieved of his burden. He pranced and shied as they neared a large tree. Suddenly a rabbit dashed out from behind the tree, spooking the horse. The frightened animal jerked to the right, smashing James’s knee against the trunk of the tree. He fought to control the horse as it reared and jumped, again battering James’s leg against the tree. James yelped in pain and surprise as the reins slipped from his grasp, and he fell to the hard ground. Freed of its rider, the horse took off at a dead run across the desert.
James lay in a daze. Then his leg started throbbing, bringing him back to consciousness. He realized his horse was long gone and with it the food in his saddlebag, the canteen of water, and his coat. Darkness was falling, bringing a chill that comes with desert nights.
James looked around him, trying to decide what to do. To his left, he saw a limb of a tree hanging within his reach. Carefully he grasped the branch and then slowly put some weight on his damaged leg and tried to stand. But the pain was instantly agonizing, and he collapsed on the ground. James looked at his injured foot, and realized that it was swelling rapidly. Taking his knife out of its scabbard, he carefully cut the boot off his swollen foot. His leg was bruised and misshapen, and with gentle probing, he knew that it was also badly injured.
James then did the only thing he knew he could do. He took his hat off, closed his eyes, and offered up a heartfelt prayer to his Heavenly Father for help.
No sooner had he finished his prayer and opened his eyes when he heard a horse approaching. A minute later, his horse was standing next to him. James stared in astonishment at the lasso that had somehow become unwrapped from the saddle-horn and was dangling within his reach.
Slowly and painfully, James grasped the lasso and began pulling himself up into the saddle. The newly broken young horse stood patiently until its rider was seated in the saddle and then set off for home.
Throughout his life, James never doubted that his Heavenly Father knew him and had heard his pleas for help one day in the desert. His story has touched me and strengthened my testimony. As I have gained experiences of my own during my teenage years and beyond, I have learned that my Heavenly Father is near and listens to me when I pray.

Go ahead. Stand Yanery and Yajaira Ortiz next to each other, and just try to tell them apart. No, really. Try.
All right. Here’s a hint that might help. Yajaira is the older of the identical twins—by 17 minutes.
Any guesses yet? Give up?
Okay, that’s Yajaira wearing the Mickey Mouse shirt. In her bedroom in Garfield, New Jersey, Yajaira has hers decked out in a Mickey Mouse motif. That’s the giveaway. She loves the cartoon mouse. Meanwhile, Yanery’s room is done more in neo-modern teen. Posters, textbooks, makeup. The usual stuff.
Oh, there is one more area where they are identical. They both have the Young Women theme displayed prominently on their walls.
Okay, let’s move to quiz number two. Look at some of Yanery and Yajaira’s friends. There’s Veronica Cruz, Michayne Campbell, Romano Johnson, Desmond Aultmon, and Rafael Geldres.
Take a good look and tell us what they have in common.
Tough, isn’t it?
Okay, here’s the answer. They’re the same too—at least when it comes to what they believe and how they live their lives. Along with the Ortiz sisters, Veronica, Michayne, Romano, Desmond, and Rafael are all members of the Church, members of the Paterson Second Branch of the Caldwell New Jersey Stake.
Paterson, New Jersey, is not a tourist town, despite being only 20 minutes from New York City. Gone are the days when locomotive trains and much of the nation’s silk were manufactured there. Today, crime is rampant, many of the buildings are empty, and the unemployment rate is as high as Manhattan’s skyscrapers.
Still, home is home. And the influence of the Church on the LDS youth offers peace and comfort to them. The fact that Michayne is Black and Yajaira is Hispanic makes no difference. But Yajaira is aware, as Mia Maid class president, what being an example to a younger member like Michayne means. That is important.
“I’m supposed to be an example to everybody. I feel the responsibility because I’m the president, and I want to show people the way to act by the way I act,” Yajaira says.
Eighteen-year-old Rafael has his own take on the Church and its members. He was baptized in 1996. “The good thing about the Church is that everybody’s equal,” says Rafael, who is of Peruvian descent. He has noticed lines drawn among the students of different races who attend John F. Kennedy High School and has been troubled by the violence that seems to follow. “In the Church, no race is better than the next. I’ve noticed this, and it’s incredible.” He wishes his nonmember friends and classmates felt the same way.
Not long ago, in a diner near his home, one of Rafael’s classmates was shot and killed in what police determined was a race-related murder.
And Desmond, who will be 14 in a couple of months, can tell some disconcerting stories too. Last year, he was walking near the corner of 18th and 38th streets. Without warning, two guys jumped out of a car, roughed him up, and left him lying in the street.
“It’s tough living here, but my life has changed a lot since I joined the Church. You just have these happy feelings,” he says.
Desmond’s life did change permanently in March 1996 when he was baptized. And for many youth in the Paterson area, things began changing in 1993, when the missionary work started rolling and the branch grew from seven members to the more than two hundred it counts on its rolls today. Meanwhile, the Young Men and Young Women programs are flourishing, mainly because people like Veronica and Romano were joining the Church, and lifelong members like Yajaira and Yanery were moving in from out of state.
“The Church has taught me a lot,” says 15-year-old Veronica. “Being involved in the Church has taken me away from the activities around the streets and stuff. Without the Church, I probably would have been like most of the teenagers I see around me. I would have followed my friends and everything like that. But in the Church, we are taught to be independent from the crowd. By following the Church’s teachings, I have also had some ground rules and some values set for me.”
When Rafael talks about how his life has been altered, he has the answer. “It’s made me sweat a lot,” he says with a smile while holding a paintbrush. He’s in the middle of a service project inside a YMCA in Passaic, New Jersey, painting the fourth-floor hallways of a building that desperately needs a coat or two. It’s about a million degrees inside, and, yes, everybody is sweating. But everybody’s happy too.
“That’s the way all our activities are,” he adds. “We work hard and have fun. But, seriously, the Church has helped me perceive things in a different way. I think I’ve become smarter. For example, when things happen, they make more sense to me.”
“I know I look at life totally different than maybe other people do,” explains Yanery. “I can fall back on things that other people don’t have. The first step I took was baptism. If we live every day following the teachings of the Church, it can help us out in the long run.”
With paint flecks on her face, Michayne stops her brush strokes for a moment and considers the service project and her Church membership. “I love doing things that are not just for myself but for other people. You come closer to the Lord when you’re doing service,” she says. “I know so much more about God and Jesus Christ. I pray more, and I do the things I’m supposed to do. If I wasn’t a member of the Church, I think things would be different.”
Desmond considers the challenges he faces every day, and he is also grateful for the Church. “So many people will say, ‘Come on, try this. Try this.’ I’m like, ‘I don’t have time for that. Drugs won’t get you anywhere.’”
While Yajaira faces many of the same challenges, she also sees reminders every day that teach her how to live. “My mom really loves the Church, and there is more peace in our home because of it,” she says. “Whenever I go in my house, I always remember something. Scriptures, the Young Women values—those sorts of things. I already have them in my head and know the things they teach are the way I want things to go for me.”
Another day in Paterson is coming to a close. Sunlight is flashing off the Great Falls, a national historic landmark, where water falls almost 80 feet into the Passaic River. It’s easily the most-visited place in the city.
“It’s different from when I used to live in Missouri,” says Yanery, speaking not only about the scenery but the lifestyle as well. “Here, it’s like, ‘Mormon? What’s that?’ People don’t even know what my religion is. But I like it because I stand out and my values stand out. I feel different from everybody else.”
Yanery finishes speaking, and she walks toward her sister. As they stand next to each other, watching the water cascade into the river, you realize Yanery’s right. They do stand out, even if you still can’t tell the two sisters apart.

Perhaps a personal experience will help to illustrate this loving, watchful care that we are to extend to one another.

My husband and I have been blessed with ten wonderful children. Seven of them are living, which means, of course, that three of them are not. During the times that I was pregnant I had to stay in bed much of the time, and it was always a great worry that I carry those precious babies until they were big enough to survive. During many weeks, my visiting teachers came with lunch for me or dinner for my family. They tended our toddlers and sent library books for me to read.

When our twins were born, we were totally surprised by having two babies! How wonderful to have two little people with only one pregnancy! It was not to be for long, however—at least in this life. Our baby boy lived two days; our baby girl lived three. The sisters were there again, not only with food, but with a beautiful rose bush called “Duet” which flourished and grew. It was a sweet reminder of a tender time. The lovely blossoms helped us to remember our little ones, our friends, our gratitude for the gospel and for the Church.

Now, some of you older sisters may ask, “Haven’t I heard every Relief Society lesson? What point is there for me to go to Relief Society each week?” The answer to those questions may best be given by relating the story of a young piano student. His mother, wishing to encourage him, “bought tickets for a performance of the great Polish pianist, Paderewski. The night of the concert arrived and the mother and son found their seats near the front of the concert hall. While the mother visited with friends, the boy slipped quietly away.
“Suddenly, it was time for the performance to begin and a single spotlight cut through the darkness of the concert hall to illuminate the grand piano on stage. Only then did the audience notice the little boy on the bench, innocently picking out ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.’
“His mother gasped, but before she could move, Paderewski appeared on stage and quickly moved to the keyboard. He whispered to the boy, ‘Don’t quit. Keep playing.’ And then, leaning over, the master reached down with his left hand and began filling in the bass part. Soon his right arm reached around the other side, encircling the child, to add a running obbligato. Together, the old master and the young novice held the crowd mesmerized.
“In our lives, unpolished though we may be, it is the Master who surrounds us and whispers in our ear, time and time again, ‘Don’t quit. Keep playing.’ And as we do, He augments and supplements until a work of amazing beauty is created. He is right there with all of us, telling us over and over, ‘Keep playing.’”

Here on my mission to the Philippines, I discovered that Christmas is celebrated from September to December. Instead of bringing the snow that I’m used to, December in the Philippines is constantly full of rainy, gray skies. It’s green everywhere you look—banana trees, coconut palms, other palm trees.
For our last appointment on Christmas Eve, we visited a family we had just started teaching. We rode our bikes through the thick jungle to the family’s bamboo-stick, tin-roofed house. When we arrived, I saw the nanay (mother) fishing in the river behind her house with a long bamboo stick and a bit of string. She told us she was trying to catch fish for their ulam (main dish) so they could eat that night. We had planned to go to a Christmas party with the other missionaries at 6:30 p.m., but we decided to spend some time catching tiny fish in the rain to help this woman feed her family instead.
That night, as my companion and I watched a video about Jesus Christ’s birth, I thought about how He came into the world with nothing and left with nothing. The family we served didn’t have much either. But I realized you don’t need much to be happy. Christmas is about more than decorations, food, or even service. It’s about God’s love (see 1 Nephi 11:13–23). It’s about charity, the pure love of Christ. It’s about loving everyone.
Although this Christmas was different for me, my experience has given me extra motivation to keep working and keep serving because the gospel of Jesus Christ can bring people so much happiness. The gospel teaches us how we can reach out in love and charity. I felt charity for that family.
The author is serving in the Philippines Antipolo Mission.

Cécile discovered The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1974 when she was visiting the United States on a tour. Her group happened to stop at Temple Square and attend a performance by the Tabernacle Choir. “It was an intense emotional experience,” she says. Later, she told her fellow travelers that listening to the Choir was the part of the tour that she liked best.
Months later, missionaries knocked on her door back in France. Cécile was not interested until one of them said he was from Salt Lake City. Remembering her experience there, Cécile asked the missionary if he represented “the church with the choir.” When he said yes, she let them in and listened to their message. She was baptized a few months later—in 1975.

Merrilee Webb came to BYU-Hawaii as a choir director for a one year contract. She was a fireball, energetic, excited about life learning, music and people. She reminds me of the Duracell bunny, because she never seemed to run out of energy. The first day of class, she had 4 boys in the men’s choir, and 25 women in the women’s choir. She took it upon herself to recruit as many students as possible, roaming the hallways, dorms, cafeteria, and the aloha center looking for students to sing. “Everyone can sing,” was her motto. She was successful and her enthusiasm was contagious. She inspired and excited her students to sing a variety of songs. She would take the time and explain the meaning of each song, highlighting the descriptive language being used, the musical terms and so forth. I remember watching students literally running to her class, not because they were late but because they didn’t want to miss a minute of class time. Her goal was to memorize each of her students by name and face, and she would pray for them individually. Her class would host weekly Wednesday devotionals, and she would pray to see which student should offer their spiritual thought or story that week. It was a highlight of the week and the students were always eager to see “who’s turn was next.” We soon realized that Sister Webb truly led by the spirit. We witnessed time and time again how these devotionals ending up being a forum/venue for stories from students around the world, about sacrifices, major challenges and circumstances that were heart wrenching. However, the joy was seeing students testimonies strengthened and shared freely. We have memorable experiences of concerts where many of us, along with the audience felt the influence of the spirit and the spirit of angels singing along with us. She was so much more than a music teacher. She taught us to love the Lord, to be worthy of the prophets presence, to resolve conflicts, lift others burdens and sing with bright eyes and joyous spirits. My youngest daughter, Kieiki had one last semester to complete before graduation. She was the Student Body President at the time, her schedule was full with 21 credits. She had one more required class to take to complete her Minor in Economics. She came to me and explained that her Economics class was at the same time as Sister Webb’s class and this was the last semester Sister Webb would be teaching at BYU-Hawaii. She had a choice to make; graduate with a Minor in Economics or sing in Sis. Webb’s choir. She said, “I need to take Sister Webb’s class. I need that spiritual strength more.” I agreed and she has never regretted that decision. We both count the blessings of Merrilee Webb’s influence in our lives. She would remind us before each concert that this is not a performance, instead this is an opportunity to share the gospel, the spirit, the message through song, go and teach the people through your singing. Share the messages of inspiration, goodness and peace. I know that hearts and lives changed because Merrilee influenced her students to aspire to greater heights spiritually. I was changed for good and count her as one of the true spiritual giants in my life. I took Sister Webb’s class every semester for the three short years she taught at BYU-Hawaii. During that time both choirs grew to over 100 students enrolled every semester. Merrilee was also selected by students as Teacher of the Year by students two of the three years she taught at BYU-Hawaii. It would have been three years but the rules would not allow the same teacher to be awarded in consecutive years. The awards of man cannot be compared to pleasing the Lord by serving his children in exact obedience and humility as the Savior did.

Let me give you another example. Last time I talked here I gave you this example, but because a young woman came up to me after the talk and questioned me about it I want to repeat it tonight. A bishop in California called me just before general conference and said, “President Tanner, I have a young man here who is having real problems, and he would like to meet you because he thinks you can help him. He knows you are interested in young people and have had experience with them.”

I said, “If you bring him over I’ll be very happy to talk to him at conference time.” He brought him over and he was dressed as a hippie—every sign: hair, clothes, and everything. I said, “What is your problem?”

He said, “I’ll tell you. I’m a returned missionary. I filled a good mission, I believe. But when I came home something happened to cause me to get this rebellious feeling, and I went out determined that the Church wasn’t going to tell me what to do. I was going to choose my own life and live as I felt I would like to live and be free. And I became associated with these hippies. Today I’m a slave. I’m a drug addict. I am guilty of a felony. I am one who is evading the law.” We talked for some time. Then he said, “I have a wife and I have a child, and here I am in this condition. It isn’t what I wanted, it isn’t what I want, but I am in this situation.” We talked it over, and at my suggestion he agreed that he would disassociate himself from the group, that he would clean himself up, and go back and turn himself over to the law.

Just a few weeks later, I received a letter from him. It started out this way, “Dear President Tanner, I’m writing from behind prison walls.” Then he reviewed our conversation, and he said, “If your use of this letter would help anybody determine never to touch drugs or to associate with or become a part of any such group, please feel free to use it.”