Gospel Story Finder

His love and blessings have been needed and given more times than I could name through the years. I’m thankful for good parents who implemented faith in my heart, and for a wonderful mother who taught me the power of prayer before she was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I would get bad earaches as a boy, and we would kneel at her bedside. She would ask Heavenly Father to bring relief and comfort and sleep – and it seems to me as if they always came. Her faith was tested and strengthened as she and my less-active father began the process of conversion together and were taught by full-time missionaries. When the time came to commit to baptism or go another direction, Mom put her trust in the Lord and in a spirit of fasting and prayer opened the Book of Mormon randomly to find an answer. It opened to Alma Chapter 7, and verse 15 seemed to jump off the page:
Come and fear not, and lay aside every sin which easily doth beset you … yea, come and go forth, and show unto your God that ye are willing to repent of your sins and enter into a covenant with him to keep his commandments, and witness it unto him this day by going into the waters of baptism.[24]
That was her answer in powerful fashion, and she followed through. Dad got things in order and baptized her, and we were sealed as a family in the temple two years later. Their choices and examples have provided a foundation of sacred support that has blessed our family and countless others since, including many in South Africa where they served as missionaries.

The class presidencies of the Young Men and Young Women of the Oakland First Ward, Oakland California Stake, discovered that good leadership skills are developed first through training and then through experience. In a day-long leadership seminar, they learned the basics of conducting an effective meeting, understanding and choosing a proper leadership style, setting goals, and outlining specific activities for the coming year.
The participants were told to meet at a designated train terminal before taking the train into San Francisco. After the BART ride, the group walked to one of the more prominent skyscrapers in the city, where they found a conference room ready for them. Seminars on various aspects of leadership were held all day.
As a surprise conclusion to the day, the group was taken on a ferryboat trip to Angel Island for dinner and an active game of baseball. They made their way back to the train for the trip home after a full and busy day.

James walked quietly along the canal bank right behind the tall figure of his father. It was difficult to see through the darkness of the clear June night, but any light would be dangerous.
Elijah and Ellen Gilbert trailed behind Brother Talmage and his son, being careful not to lose sight of them. Although Ellen’s uncertain steps slowed them down, Elijah held tightly to his sister’s hand. He was older and knew the way better.
The water made loud splashing noises as it passed over the old mill wheel, but further down where the four finally stopped the water was much calmer.
James’ father looked slowly in every direction, but there was no one in sight. None of the townspeople in Eddington, England, had seen the eleven-year-old boy leave the village with his father and friends. It was safe to go ahead with the baptism.
Earlier that year, in the spring of 1873, James had become seriously ill. The Talmage family grew concerned about the life of their oldest son. Three years had passed since the time he should have been baptized, and his father thought that perhaps this was the reason for his boy’s sickness. He made a covenant with our Heavenly Father to baptize James as soon as possible if only he could be well again. James recovered and his father was keeping his promise.
The baptism was scheduled at night to avoid any trouble with the villagers.
Mormon beliefs were new and unpopular in the area at that time, and the members of the Church were often treated unfairly.
Brother Talmage stepped into the water and firmly braced his feet so that the current could not upset his balance. Just as he offered a hand to his son, a horrible noise more powerful than a scream broke the calmness of the night. It was a combination of a shriek and a howl and sounded as loud as a thunderclap.
James froze on the bank and Ellen clung to Elijah in fear. Father Talmage was also frightened by the sound and understood his son’s trembling as he stood alone in the dark.
“James, are you too frightened to be baptized tonight?” his father asked. James answered by stepping boldly into the deep canal.
The cold water soaked his thin clothing, but the young boy was unaware of the shivers running down his back. The noise stopped as mysteriously as it began the instant James entered the water. Elijah’s grip loosened on his sister’s hand and they both bowed their heads as Brother Talmage said the sacred words of the baptism. Then his strong arm lowered his son into the water.
Elijah helped James onto the bank as Ellen stepped into the water. She too was baptized a member of the Church and that night made a special promise to our Heavenly Father to keep His commandments.
When they returned home, Brother Talmage told the rest of the family about the strange happening. Surely, he thought, the loud noise reached the house, yet no one heard anything unusual. Questioning the townspeople the next day provided no answers either, for it seemed only the baptismal party shared the experience.
James E. Talmage never understood what caused the strange sound on the night he was baptized. But through his trust in the Lord he had had the courage to be baptized and to obey our Heavenly Father’s commandment. Later in his life he became a great leader and an apostle in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Climbing trees is one of those childhood joys that often sticks with you even as you grow older. Of course, not many people take it to the same heights as Hunter S., a 17-year-old young man from Washington, USA.
Several years ago, Hunter’s father showed him a video on climbing Mount Everest. Instantly, Hunter knew he wanted to become a mountaineer. For training, he began running every day and scaling a massive pine tree in his backyard with climber’s equipment.
He started climbing smaller peaks with some peers, and then he moved on to higher ones with his dad and brother. Soon, climbing Mount Rainier became his goal. At over 14,000 feet (4,267 meters), this peak requires some serious training. While conditioning for the attempt, however, Hunter found an even bigger problem to tackle.
A local baby named Casen was born with a rare genetic disorder that has no known cure. Hunter knew Casen’s family needed all the help they could get to provide medical treatments. He decided to make his climb a fund-raising effort. “Climb for Casen” was born. “I felt the Spirit confirm that this is what I’m supposed to do,” says Hunter.
Not only did he successfully summit Mount Rainier after two long days of climbing with an accomplished team, but he raised $13,000 (well beyond his goal of $10,000) for Casen’s medical treatments. The public certainly rallied, donating to the fund-raiser.
Hunter compares mountaineering to living the gospel. “I couldn’t just climb Mount Rainier without doing any training,” Hunter says. “As with faith, I had to exercise, get the proper training, and do the right things. With the gospel, we can’t just say that we want a closer relationship with Christ. We need to actually keep the commandments.”
Photographs courtesy of Hunter S.

As a young man, serving at the direction of my bishop, I called upon a rich man and invited him to contribute a thousand dollars to a building fund. He declined. But he did say he wanted to help, and if we would have a ward dinner and charge $5 per plate, he would take two tickets. About ten days later this man died unexpectedly of a heart attack, and I have wondered ever since about the fate of his eternal soul.

Although I serve in the Asia Area Presidency now, my first assignment as a General Authority was to serve in the Asia North Area Presidency. We lived in Tokyo and traveled often to Korea and the islands of the Guam Micronesia Mission.

During those years, there were, perhaps, hundreds of meetings that I attended in Korea. Some of them were in small branches, and others were in the largest stakes. I had many feelings and impressions as I participated in teaching the gospel and in bearing testimony of the Lord Jesus Christ. For me, one of the most important meetings did not happen at a church or in the temple. Rather, the meeting that may have had the greatest impact on my understanding of how the Lord desired to grow and more firmly establish His Church in Asia and other parts of the world happened in a busy restaurant with only four of us present.

I had been assigned to preside at a Stake Conference in Korea. I asked Elder Choi Yoon Hwan, who was then an Area Seventy, to arrange a dinner appointment with the stake president. That evening, the Stake President, one of his counselors in the stake presidency, Elder Choi and I sat down to dinner and just talked.

I asked the stake president whether he had known Elder Choi as they were growing up as young men in Korea. The stake president told me that he, Elder Choi and his counselor had all served missions together as young men. After their missions, they each had a variety of experiences that created opportunities for education and employment. In Elder Choi’s case, he left Korea and first came here to BYU Hawaii and then to Utah State University for his education. He and his wife, Bon, then chose to return to Korea, raise a family and serve the Lord. In each of the others’ lives, they had had educational and professional opportunities, but through their individual choices, they had chosen to stay in or return to Korea, marry, be sealed in the temple, and have children. They worked to build up the Church in Korea, the country that had given them the gospel as well as parents, family, birth, life, language and culture. Each had served as a bishop and as a member of a stake presidency, and each had made a significant contribution to the building up of the Lord’s church in that country. As many of you know, Elder Choi now serves as one of the General Authorities of the Church and is a member of the Asia North Area Presidency.

That evening, we talked about young men and women serving together and choosing to follow the Lord’s counsel to return to their country and work to build and strengthen the Church where they had been born. It was during this conversation that I first had come into my heart a spiritual understanding that the Lord would build up and more firmly establish His Church in each country, culture, language and people by having the rising generation accept His doctrine, and gather back to their own country. There they would work together to build up and strengthen the Church in that place. There they would establish multigenerational families who will be the spiritual strength of that country and place. That night, I not only heard the stories of these three men and their families, but I could also see so many others choosing to follow the Lord’s will in this matter, raising their families in spiritual security and happiness, and making contributions to His Church in their own country. These contributions can never be made, and this spiritual security can never be had, without accepting the Lord’s counsel and following His will in one’s life.

Now the second story, if I might delve back into a personal experience of my own as a child. I was baptized at the age of eight; and shortly after my baptism and my confirmation I started taking piano lessons. It was at the early part of the Depression, and shortly after I had completed my first year of lessons the Depression had its full impact on our family and we could not afford the lessons any longer. But that didn’t stop my activity in music, and I continued to practice. Like many of you who have taken first-year piano lessons and studied such an illustrious author of children’s books as John Thompson, I continued my work. Over at school they provided violin lessons free, and since the price was right I started taking violin lessons. After about six months or a year the teacher needed a violist in a student string quartet, and since I had a longer arm than the next fellow, I was transformed into a viola player—not a very good one, but there I was on the viola.
At home I started to do what many of us do who learn a little at the keyboard—I started to improvise. My hands wandered over the keys. Who hasn’t sat down at the family piano and struck a chord or made up a tune? It is a very common experience.
But I was persistent with the improvising idea, and finally after a month or two had improvised a little piece of music. I was elated with this and, in fact, took the trouble to write it down. I didn’t know that you could go to the music store and buy music manuscript paper with lines already printed that you could write your own notes on. So I took a ruler and barred my own five-line staffs. The lines weren’t very parallel and the result was pretty amateurish. It took a long time for me to figure out whether, in a given place in the music, it was a quarter note or a half note, whether it was G or F#, whether it was in 4/4 or 3/4 time, and whether I was playing in the key of C or G. But during the long laborious process, I finally arrived at notating this first “Opus 1, No. 1.”
I called my mother to the piano and I said, “Mother, I have composed a piece!” And what mother wouldn’t be happy at that announcement? She patted me on the head and said, “Well, how nice. Why don’t you play it for your teacher at school?” Well, my classroom teacher at school didn’t know very much about music, so she said, “Why don’t you play it for the class?” All of a sudden I became very famous in the third grade as a composer of a piano piece which I entitled “Brownie’s Ponies,” which shows my level of maturity at that time.
As a result of the recognition that had come from my third-grade class I decided, “Well, I’ll write another piece.” So I improvised for a few days or a week and took the trouble to notate the second piece. Then one after another of these things rolled off over a period of four years, until I had collected about ten of them. At age 12, I had ten pieces that I had written down, all for the piano.
Then it was that I made a startling discovery. I still hadn’t taken any more piano lessons, but I had worked on the violin and viola and continued to practice my piano to the degree one can as a 12-year-old without a teacher. I went back over my old piano books, and I made this horrifying discovery—that my “Opus 1, No. 1” wasn’t really mine after all, but it was page 25 of John Thompson’s children’s piano book, We’re in the Navy. I had subconsciously absorbed this page and thought it to be my own when I started to improvise. I went into the same patterns that my fingers had already been trained to follow. And without recognizing this relationship, I had assumed that this was my own work.
This is a horrifying discovery to a 12-year-old. It would be disturbing for anyone, but it was particularly devastating to me at that time. I thought my career as a composer was going to end in fraud. Did I dare reveal to anybody that I was a fake? I could have copied the piece directly from the page of John Thompson. Instead, it had taken me three months to write it down. I could have gone back to page 25 and copied it out in half a day! However, I did transpose it. There was one thing unique in my version—I changed it to a different key. But even that isn’t very difficult. So I went back and thought, “Where did the other nine pieces come from?”
So for the next hour or so I went through all the pieces I could possibly find. I found that “No. 2” had a little snatch of “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam” in it, and “No. 3” had a little bit from somewhere else. As I got a little further along I found there was a snatch here, a touch there, and a fragment there, but I couldn’t find that any of the other nine were actually lifted totally from another source as “No. 1” was.
Rather than going back and blurting out my confession to my class, I started to think, “Well, what does it really mean to be original after all? Certainly ‘Opus 1, No. 1’ isn’t original and a lot of the others don’t seem to be too original. How do you become original as a composer?” After all, there are only 12 notes in a scale, and there must be a hundred million pieces that have been written in the last thousand years. If you actually made a computer analysis of the pieces that have been written you would find just about every possible combination has been used! How, then, do you become creative as a composer with the same 12 notes that everyone else is using?
I’m not sure that I have the answer to that question, but I would like to suggest that a similar question exists for us all in any of a thousand other fields. How does my contribution to the world mean anything or have any uniqueness? As I said, I don’t have the answer to that, but I would like to give just one thought which may approach a solution.
It seems to me that part of the genius of our creation is the fact that each one of us is different from the next one—that the Lord didn’t make two leaves exactly the same way, or two of anything. Even identical twins really have some significant differences in them. Each of us is a little universe all of our own. And after the stamp of our particular creation was made, the unique cast was discarded. Of course, we all have a pancreas, big toenails, eyelashes—but even here the stamp is different for each one. One of the tasks of this life is to find that difference and to express it—meaningfully. If we do that, then in some way our contribution to the world, to the Church, to the community, to our families, and to everyone else, is unique and original.
Our contribution may have some superficial similarities or even some significant similarities to the contributions of others. Much of our daily work is similar to the next person’s. Our food is similar; we all wear apparel that is similar to the next person’s; we drive similar kinds of cars; we live in similar kinds of homes. But may I suggest that because each of us is significantly different that that difference has meaning, and that meaning can be translated into some kind of service that is meaningful to those around us. Herein lies an element of creativity and originality that is meaningful.

Stake Young Women president Paulette Griffiths first had the idea while talking to Church member Tony Iliffe, whose company turns tubes of knitting into finished socks.
“We always end up with sacks full of odd ones that don’t have matches,” commented Tony. “The partners are there somewhere, but no one knows where. A gentleman from London used to take them for the homeless, but he died.”
So began Sister Griffith’s brain wave.
She thought it would be a wonderful service project for the youth of the Lichfield England Stake—her stake—to sort socks, try to find matches, and then donate the pairs to charity.
So the youth got together, and like some gigantic jigsaw puzzle, the matchmaking began. The prevailing comment from the 60 young people who had gathered was, “I’ve never seen so many socks in my life!”
During the day, the excitement became infectious, with “I’ve got one!” shouts echoing through the hall. “It’s like finding treasure,” said Kristie McCall. “It’s a laugh.” Ellen Tong added, “Helping someone else and having a good time doing it is great.”
“It’s something different to do on a Saturday,” said Sharon Whiting from Sutton Coldfield, who spent her day sifting through hundreds of socks. Even Chelsea Birtcher, a visitor from Utah, said, “It’s the best service project I’ve been to.”
Everyone rotated to other sock activities when they were in danger of becoming tired of sorting. The sock activities ranged from puppet making, building a puppet theater, and decorating socks to be worn later at the evening Sock Hop—a slippery barn dance. Prizes were announced for the best decorated socks. And a puppet show was planned, to be performed for children’s hospitals, with the puppets donated to the ward nurseries.
With the youth from six wards pulling together, they finished with eight large sacks of paired socks for their day’s work.
Sam Barber, a 15-year-old from Stafford, said, “We had more people turn up to this service project than ever before. That’s what made it enjoyable.”
One of the project’s success stories belonged to the youth from the Lichfield and Tamworth wards. They achieved their goal and filled sacks of baby socks for two social service groups that work with children.
At the end of the day, a final count seemed a bit like the loaves and fishes. Despite eight bags of socks with partners, the remaining pile of singles still looked as high as ever. And only a few groaned when Sister Griffiths announced, “We’ll be back to enjoy this activity again soon.”

“The nicest party I had was a large one given by a very close friend. The groom was invited to come late and meet everyone. At that time my mother read a poem that she’d written especially for us,” said Lynn Hildebrandt of Boston, Massachusetts. She and her husband, Stephen, think couples should plan things like this that make getting married even more exciting and more together-oriented. They practiced sentimental songs and sang duets at one of their parties and at the reception.

I was faced with an assignment at school that made me very uncomfortable. Our teacher asked half the class to write an essay on why we should keep the words under God in the Pledge of Allegiance (of the United States) and the other half—my half—to write an essay on why we should take them out. I was sad and felt that I could not do this. I believe in Heavenly Father and have a testimony of Him, and I wanted to keep His name in the pledge. I went to my mom with this problem, and she told me to express my true opinion. She also told me to tell the teacher how I felt. So the next day I turned in the assignment and told my teacher why I could not do as she had asked. To my amazement, that is what she wanted. She hoped we would stand up for what we believed, and gave us the assignment to see if we would make that choice for ourselves. I was the only one in the class who did not defend the assigned point of view.

Carolina affirms that the gospel has increased her love for her Heavenly Father and for other people. One Sunday while she was taking a taxi to church, the driver became interested in the books she was carrying—her standard works. Their polite conversation grew cordial, and after arriving at the meetinghouse, Carolina invited him to attend services with her and to meet the missionaries. As he learned about the Church, the taxi driver, Luis Campos, was deeply impressed with the importance given to the law of chastity and with the idea of a living prophet. Two months later he was baptized.

One day a young woman came to my office wanting help with a problem. I asked what it was. She said she was pregnant but not married. Furthermore, she did not want to be pregnant or be married. She wanted an abortion. She claimed to have prayed a lot about what she should do, but didn't seem to get any answers to her prayers. I told her the answer to her prayer was in my file cabinet. I took out a statement by the First Presidency and read to her what the Lord thinks about His children aborting their children. The Lord had already revealed through His prophet the position of heaven on that subject. All she needed to do was to trust Him and thereby avoid the resultant regrets and sorrow that always accompany decisions that are contrary to the Lord's teaching. When she finally decided against the wisdom of having an abortion, she began at that same moment to build on the only sure and safe foundation.

For over a year I tried to memorize the Articles of Faith, but I was having a hard time because I’m deaf. I worked on it every Sunday, but I just couldn’t do it. I wanted to give up many times, but I kept on trying.
I decided I needed help, so I went into my room and knelt down and prayed to Heavenly Father. When I got up, I started trying to memorize the Articles of Faith again, and it was so much easier. I finished all 13. My mom was amazed at how well I had memorized them. I know now that whenever I need help I can pray to my Heavenly Father, and He will help me.
Sam McGrath, age 9Mesa, Arizona

That morning in stake conference the president with whom I had stayed was released after thirteen years of faithful service. There was a great outpouring of love and appreciation, not because of this man’s wealth, not because of his stature in the business community, but because of the great service he had unselfishly given. Without thought of personal interest, he had driven tens of thousands of miles in all kinds of weather. He had spent literally thousands of hours in the interest of others. He had neglected his personal affairs to assist those who needed his help. And in so doing he had come alive, and had become great in the eyes of those he had served.

A new president was installed that morning and there were many who were proud and happy concerning him; but most proud and most happy was a little man who sat at the stake clerk’s table, a rural mail carrier by profession. He it was who, twelve years ago, had with quiet, patient labor persuaded his totally inactive neighbor to come back into activity. It would have been so much easier to have let that indifferent neighbor go his own way, and it would have been so much easier of the mail carrier to have lived his own quiet life. But he had put aside his personal interests in the interest of another; and that other, last Sunday, became the honored and respected leader of a great stake of Zion. As the people sustained their new president, the little man at the clerk’s table wept tears of gratitude. In living beyond himself, he had brought to life the man sustained that morning as president of the Jerome Stake of Zion.

Elder Meurs told the story of his parents, who lived in the area, joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1958.
Fred and Lois Meurs, strong Christians from different faiths were actively searching for someone to answer their gospel questions. After carefully studying the New Testament, they began to search for a church that had teachings that were consistent with Jesus’s teachings.
They had questions about the purpose of life, priesthood authority, what happens when we die, ordinances like baptism, and the role of prophets and apostles. They had spoken to the religious leaders of the community, but no one could give them the answers they were searching for. They began to earnestly pray for someone to answer their questions.
That same week, two full-time missionaries, Elder Jones and Elder Erikson, knocked on their door and said they had a message about Jesus Christ to share with them. Fred and Lois asked them all their questions, and the missionaries answered every one. Three weeks later the Meurs were baptised and confirmed. Some other families joined soon after, and the first Warrnambool Branch was formed.

You know, every member is a missionary. I think President David O. McKay first emphasized that duty. I was up in Montana some time ago visiting a stake conference. After the morning session, I was wandering around outside. I saw this young boy standing there all dressed up in his Sunday clothes. I went over to him and said, “Son, you’re a fine-looking boy. What’s your name?”
He said, “Joseph Smith Curdy.”
I said, “Joseph Smith Curdy! That’s a fine name. You’re going to be a great missionary.”
He said, “I’m already a great missionary. Down the street a couple of blocks from where we live there’s a family with a couple of boys about my age, and over a period of three or four months, I have been bringing them to church with me. A month or so ago, I said to them, ‘How would you like to have the missionaries give you the discussions?’
“They said, ‘Oh, we’d have to talk to our parents.’
“So we talked to the parents, and the parents said, ‘Well, if you will let us listen in, why we’ll be glad to have the missionaries teach them.’”
There wasn’t any problem with that, so the missionaries gave the family the discussions. Joseph Smith Curdy told me, “That whole family is going to be baptized next Saturday. I’m already a great missionary.”
I couldn’t help but agree with him.

Volleyball season came. We knew we were the best team in the stake. For two years we had been close to winning the stake championship, and this was the year we were going to win. We had the veteran “senior” boys. We had the height; we had the talent. And we even had a mascot—Billie. We even let Billie play. Just hitting the ball was a major achievement, but everyone clapped and encouraged him, so Billie really felt that he was making a contribution.
Being at each game was more important than ever to him. During the regular season, Billie might have cost the team a few points, or even one game in a series, but he played and we all felt good because of our sacrifice.
Finally the stake championship came. It was the same rivalry that had been there for the last two years. This time we would win. We had beaten the other team during the regular season’s games, and we would beat them in the championship. Perhaps as an extra precaution someone “forgot” to tell Billie about the game.
Saturday afternoon at game time some of our players were overconfident and had gone to the store for some soft drinks. The first game started without them, but the substitute players were good enough. Then in came the bishop with Billie. Both teams were well coached. The game was an even match of the teams, but we lost. We couldn’t afford to hold back our best players for the next game. We had to win the next game to give us a chance at winning two out of three games.
Billie had been at the coach’s side the whole first game. “Now? Should I go in now? Do you want me to play now?” His persistence was distracting. The coach spoke firmly but kindly, “Go sit down; I’ll tell you when, Billie.”
At the end of the first game, Billie couldn’t wait any longer. Scores didn’t mean anything. The only thing that was important was playing. The coach looked at Billie; for a long minute he agonized. He had always let all the boys play. Would he change the rules now? Was the principle more important than the game?
This was a unique group of boys. Just weeks before, the coach had told us that sometime in his life every coach should get a chance to work with a group like ours. He felt that we could understand principles. There wasn’t any choice; he had to let Billie play.
The other team served—right to Billie. Another serve—to Billie; and another. Again and again the serve was to Billie. The other coach called time-out; he was talking to his server. Another serve—right to Billie. The score was 11 to 0; no service had been returned. Finally a service went into the net, but it was too late. The final score was 15 to 6. It was our year to win, and we lost.
The other team walked off the court with heads lowered. We were fighting back tears. We didn’t understand. We went outside, and the coach tried to talk. “I thought I knew what was right.” Even he was fighting for composure. “I believe it’s important for everyone to play. I’ve always let everyone play. I hope I’m doing what’s right.” The bishop was there with Billie. He looked as if he wanted to talk but didn’t know what to say. Finally Billie broke in and said, “Well, we won another one!”
Something happened after that. The bishop gave a lesson in priesthood meeting on winning. He said something about an inactive father going to the temple because his handicapped son was loved by our quorum. He said that was winning. Somebody said if Billie could play volleyball he could come to priesthood meeting. All of a sudden Billie was really part of us. We’d invested a volleyball championship in him, and he was important to us.

The second example comes from a Book of Mormon student of mine who wrote:
Nephi’s words testify of the divinity of Christ in clear and concise terms. I have witnessed in my own life and those who I taught on my mission how Nephi’s words have softened our hearts and filled our minds with light. Before my mission I began to read the Book of Mormon for the first time. I was undecided whether to serve a mission or not. Almost imperceptibly I felt anxious and a great desire to serve a mission. Where once only doubt and confusion which led to sin filled my life, a new sense of peace and wanting to fulfill the commandments entered into my mind and heart. I still had questions but I also had a peace that urged me forward to preach the gospel.

I was born with Duchenne muscular dystrophy. That means my muscles will get weaker as I get older. My wheelchair comes in handy when I play soccer. I play goalie, and my chair helps me block the ball.
Even though I know that one day I won’t be able to walk anymore, I know Heavenly Father will help me have courage. And I know that because of Jesus Christ, when I am resurrected my body will be perfect and I will be able to run and move again.

My friend Max was baptized when he was eight years old. His father was not a member of any church, and Max could go to church or not go.

As a teenager, after not attending for several months, Max had the feeling that he needed to go back to church and determined one Sunday morning that he would return. But his resolve weakened as he approached the front door of the church; his stomach tightened.

There, standing at the door, was the new bishop. Max didn’t know him, and he felt sure the bishop didn’t know Max. As Max approached, the bishop’s face lit up, and he put his hand out and said, “Max, it’s so good to see you!”

“As he spoke those words,” Max said, “a warm feeling came over me and I knew I had done the right thing.”

Knowing someone’s name can make a difference.