Gospel Story Finder

Twenty-six years after the experience with my father, I continued to learn important lessons through a father-and-son relationship. The exterior woodwork of our home was in need of redecoration. I cleaned and prepared the surface and applied an undercoat. In my mind I could visualize the flawless gloss finish that would be the product of my labors. Our five-year-old son, Kevin, watched as I prepared to apply the final gloss covering. He asked if he could help me. I hesitated before responding, considering what effect this would have on the fulfillment of my dream, or alternatively how he would feel if I declined his offer. It was almost as if I heard someone else say, “That would be a great help. Thank you.”
After I provided him with an old shirt of mine that covered him completely, almost touching the floor and with sleeves rolled back several times, we went to work on the door that secured the main entrance to our home. He was applying paint to the bottom panel as I worked on the top section. I noticed that because of his age and physical stature, he wasn’t able to spread the paint evenly and that beads of paint were resulting. Each time he bent down to recharge his brush, I would hastily smooth out the paint on the bottom panel, returning to my assigned area so that he would not realize what I was doing. After a while I decided that more important than a first-class paint job was the opportunity to work with my son. On reflection I realized how well he was doing. Thereafter, every time I approached the door and saw the distinctive style of decoration, I was reminded of what is really important in our lives.

Don Dewey, a nonmember, was one of Ken’s friends stationed aboard a sister minesweeper. He wanted to discover the inconsistencies in the Church’s doctrine so that he could point out to Ken the error of his decision to be baptized. So when the three men returned from sea, Don decided to join Willis and Ken at sacrament meeting in Charleston.

But Don never did find the inconsistencies he sought. Instead, after months of intensive study, he also chose to become a member of the Church.

Snow had fallen all day, covering everything. Raybell and Linda had come out of their Primary class into the front foyer where everybody’s coats and boots were. “Look at Judy’s raggedy old brown boots,” Linda had said. “Judy is so mean. She’s always saying something rude, even to the teacher. And I know she stole my new pen that I got for my birthday.”
“How do you know?” Raybell asked.
“I saw her with it. I’m pretty sure it was mine.”
“I wonder if she stole my candy bar out of my desk too,” Raybell said.
“You know what we could do?” Linda whispered. “We could put snow in her boots.”
Before Raybell could say anything, Linda grabbed them and started out the door. Raybell went after her, and together they filled the toes of Judy’s boots with snow and put them back in place before Judy came out of her class.
When Judy came into the foyer, Raybell and Linda stood nearby and watched her. Judy pulled on one boot and quickly pulled her foot out again. Linda giggled a little, but Judy didn’t seem to hear. She looked into her boot and frowned. The look in Judy’s eyes made Raybell feel a little sick inside. Judy picked up her boots and went outside. As she passed Raybell and Linda, she looked defiantly into their faces. She emptied her boots, pulled each one on, and trudged across the snowy field to her house. Raybell and Linda stood on the church steps watching her and then went home without saying much.

After Peter was released from the hospital, he arranged to go to Salt Lake City to undergo plastic surgery. He would live with his brother and sister-in-law and begin to work on his one great desire—to be normal.
But Peter was leaving a safe place in the hospital. There people understood what had happened to him and accepted him for the person he has inside. Now he must enter a world where people placed emphasis on appearances. An introduction to the outside world occurred when he went to the grocery store for the first time since his accident. He was feeling good about being out of the hospital, and his strength was returning. He walked to the store to pick up a few things. It was 5:00 P.M., and all the cashiers were busy.
I was standing in line behind this lady. She had two children with her, but they were running around. Finally it was nearly her turn to be checked out, and her two boys came running over. As soon as they came up to their mom, one young boy about four years old looked up and saw me. I suppose he was a little unprepared for what he saw. It scared him so badly, he started yelling, “Monster, monster!” He pulled away from his mother and started running down the aisle. She looked up to see what he was screaming about, and there I stood. She, too, dropped her groceries and ran down the aisle after her little boy. With this screaming, all the other people at the checkstands were curious about what was happening. Everything stopped. Everyone turned and looked, and there I was in the middle of the store. Then came all the ohs and ahs and people making comments that I could hear. It felt just like a knife turning in my stomach.
At this time Peter was going through a series of 28 operations to reconstruct his features and correct injuries suffered in his accident. He was approached by his bishop who asked what he would be doing if he could do anything he wanted.
Quickly it slipped out because it was a great desire of mine, but it seemed so totally impossible. I said, “I’d love to serve a mission.” And without even thinking twice he said, “Well, let’s get you ready.” I said, “Oh, bishop, I can’t do that.” I started to go over my finances and how much I owed and how my leg had not healed yet and all the operations I faced and the way people related to me. But he just said, “Let’s get you ready.”
The bishop called Peter to teach Sunday School, and after several trying times, Peter had some good experiences in teaching the Gospel Doctrine class. He was working several jobs to help pay his hospital bills. He had several more operations scheduled, and he was beginning to think seriously about his future. Some friends came one day to ask him to go to a stake dance that evening with them. Although he wanted to go, he refused. It took them six hours of talking to convince him to try going to the dance.
As I entered the foyer, I noticed that all the kids started looking at me, and I noticed some girls over by the coat rack. A couple of girls whispered, they didn’t know I could hear them, “Look at that guy. I sure hope he doesn’t ask me to dance.” Once again an ugly feeling shrouded my whole being.
I found a place behind the young men up near the band. I claimed a 60 cm square piece of board as my territory. I was going to own it for those hours at the dance.
At intermission his friends tried to encourage him to dance. They started pulling him out onto the floor. During the intermission, he resolved that as soon as the band began playing again, he would ask a girl to dance.
As soon as the music started, I remembered my commitment. I refused to think about my appearance and I went right out there to dance. I knew if I didn’t do it then, I would be a coward for the rest of the night.
He reached the section of the floor where the girls had congregated. He approached one girl from the back. When he touched her on the shoulder to ask for a dance, she turned and screamed. Embarrassed, she ran out of the ball, pushing her way through the crowd. It was just like the store. The band stopped; everyone stopped to see what was the matter. He returned to his place. His friends tried to comfort him, and the dance started again.
I wanted to shout; I wanted to get out of there. And this small voice deep down inside me said, “Peter, you can’t run now; you’ll be running for the rest of your life.” Another strange thing started to happen. My legs started to move across the floor. I watched myself go out there to ask another girl to dance. I had strength beyond my own power. It was like my spirit was up above me saying, “What are you doing? You’ve got to get back. Are you a glutton for punishment.” As I was walking across the floor, I was having this argument saying yes and no and yes and no. This small voice inside me kept reassuring me. It said, “Peter, you must keep asking them to dance. Don’t turn and run because you’ll be running forever.”
He asked a girl to dance every dance for the rest of the evening. He was discouraged when only two girls the entire evening would dance with him. That night as he knelt in prayer, Peter was one bitter young man.
Everything seemed to come together—all the pressure of the people, the way they treated me and stared at me and pointed at me, and all the operations that were left to be done. I still did not really know if they could correct my eyes and give me some eyelids, a normal mouth, and a nose. This feeling of ugliness came upon me, and in my anger, I said to my Father in Heaven, “There is a scripture that promises that we will not be tempted beyond our capacity to resist. I need that now.” I went to bed. The next morning I was blessed with a peace and a calmness that has stayed with me ever since. And regardless of how the world treated me from that point on. I was normal. My Father in Heaven just gave peace to me as He promised. If we live the commandments, he will give us what we need. He gave me a peace and a calmness so I was normal from that day on. Yes people would still react the same toward me, but I was different.
With his confidence in himself established on a spiritual basis, Peter was ready to work toward going on a mission. After submitting his papers and undergoing a special interview with Elder Thomas S. Monson, Peter received his call to the Northern California Mission.
Up until then Peter had always worn dark glasses in an attempt to cover the slits that had been sewn closed over his eyes to compensate for his lack of eyelids. He had been so self-conscious of his appearance that he never went anywhere without his glasses. On the way to his mission interview, he took his dark glasses off and never wore them again. Surgery later corrected the problem with his eyelids.
His new attitude about himself helped him serve a successful mission. He was able to influence people and encourage them to become members of the Church.
When Peter returned after completing his mission, he quickly began the routine of work and visits to the hospital as he continued with corrective surgery. At this time, he was called to serve a stake mission. In this capacity he met the secretary to the stake mission president, Marjorie Clegg of Tooele, Utah. They became good friends, and Peter started arranging dates for her with his friends. Finally, after having had too many dates arranged for her, Marjorie asked him to please not arrange any more dates for her. Peter asked her for a date for himself. Based on a foundation of friendship, the relationship grew into love, and they were married.
Except for the very first time Marjorie met me, she never seemed to notice my burns. I’m very much aware of people noticing that I’m different. I’ve never noticed that Marjorie ever thought me any different on the outside than she found me on the inside. She makes me feel very handsome. I love her not only because she’s my sweetheart, but because she’s my very best friend. She is the girl I prayed for who would take me for what I am on the inside. That’s what I needed because I couldn’t get very far using the outside.
From an accident that could have been devastating to any future accomplishment, Peter Jeppson struggled against adversity to become a successful businessman, Church leader, husband, and father. He is now the owner of his own insurance and investment agency, has served on the General Board of the Young Men, and has three children, two daughters and a son.
While Peter was lying in the hospital as a 19-year-old trying to figure out his future, he asked himself, “What one thing would I have to accomplish that would mean I had overcome my problems?” He was influenced by some books on setting goals that his friend had read to him before his bandages were removed from his eyes. He decided that if he could be a successful life insurance sales manager that would mean (1) he was able to develop a good relationship with people individually, (2) he would have gained an education, and (3) he would have proven his credibility and ability in one area.
With this goal in mind, Peter began researching insurance companies. He contacted 59 companies and was not offered a single job. He finally got a position as a planning manager for an insurance company. It was a very small beginning. Through persistence, hard work, and going to school at the same time, Peter began learning the business.
By the time Peter got married, he had paid all his debts to doctors and hospitals, but he was starting married life with no assets except his confidence and attitude. In ten years, he has built all that he and his family have from nothing by determination and discipline.
Now, Peter, Marjorie, and their children all keep journals recording the progress they are making on their goals. When the children are too small to be able to write, Marjorie records in their journals for them.
With a slim, athletic build, Peter points out that one of his goals this year was to be able to run 3 kilometers in 16 minutes. He has reached that goal.
Leaning back in his office chair and glancing out of the window of his own office building, Peter exudes confidence. This confidence, however, has not come easily. He often had to struggle to overcome depression. “I noticed as all this was happening to me,” says Peter, “that as bad as things are, if you’re not careful, you can get into the habit of letting things irritate you all the time. It can depress you forever.
“If you take yourself too seriously,” he continues, “you’ve got a real problem. People get in the habit too often of letting whatever happens to them get them in a tiresome routine. They let themselves become accustomed to reacting to the world in one way. So, if a person is overweight, or skinny, or has large, prominent front teeth it doesn’t matter. We all have problems. A beautiful girl seems to have no problems. She may have problems, too, inside. Everybody has problems. It’s not what the problems are, it’s how you cope with them that is important.”
Although Peter would have preferred the accident not to have happened, still he has learned from the experience. “Be thankful for your troubles,” says Peter, “because those are the things that teach you. We came to earth to work out our salvation (see Philip. 2:12.) That’s spelled w-o-r-k. Beauty comes from working out your salvation, (see Philip. 2:12) being close to the Savior.”
Now able to make people comfortable in his presence very quickly, Peter is indeed a handsome man. What he has developed inside is more obvious than any exterior scar. That evening long ago when he prayed to have the feelings of ugliness leave changed his life. He learned how to handle adversity and was given peace of mind.
When asked if he has any advice to give to others, Peter says, “Yes, if you want anything, learn the laws and commandments governing it and live them. Success doesn’t have anything to do with circumstances. Learn the laws and live them.”

On this mortal journey we must never think that our choices affect only us. Recently, a young man visited my home. He had a good spirit about him, but I sensed he was not fully participating in Church activity. He told me that he had been raised in a gospel-centered home until his father was unfaithful to his mother, resulting in their divorce and influencing all his siblings to question the Church and to fall away. My heart was heavy as I spoke with this young father who now, affected by his father’s choices, was raising these precious spirits outside the blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Another man I know, a onetime faithful Church member, had questions regarding certain doctrine. Rather than ask Heavenly Father for answers, he chose to rely solely on secular sources for guidance. His heart turned in the wrong direction as he sought what seemed to be the honors of men. His pride may have been gratified, at least temporarily, but he was cut off from the powers of heaven.11 Rather than find truth, he lost his testimony and brought with him many family members.
These two men became trapped in unseen riptides and brought many with them.
Conversely, I think of LaRue and Louise Miller, my wife’s parents, who despite never having much by way of worldly possessions, chose to teach the pure doctrine of the restored gospel to their children and to live it every day of their lives. By so doing they have blessed their posterity with the fruits of the gospel and the hope of eternal life.
In their home they established a pattern where the priesthood was respected, where love and harmony were abundant, and where the principles of the gospel directed their lives. Louise and LaRue, side by side, demonstrated what it meant to live lives patterned after Jesus Christ. Their children could clearly see which of life’s currents would bring peace and happiness. And they chose accordingly. As President Kimball taught, “If we can create … a strong, steady current flowing toward our goal of righteous life, we and our children may be carried forward in spite of the contrary winds of hardship, disappointment, [and] temptations.”12

Ben is a great example of helping others and being a blessing in their lives. He looks out for people who are not as popular or don’t feel as involved. He thinks of others more than himself. When Kelon moved into Ben’s ward, Kelon described his life as “nothing but a party” that was going in the wrong direction. He felt empty inside. But because of the examples of his Latter-day Saint friends and particularly that of his best friend, Ben, he saw there was a better way. Ben invited Kelon to participate in Church activities. At those activities Kelon noticed there was something different about the young men there. He wanted to be like them. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he wanted it. He wanted to be happy like they were.
He prayed to God and knew that he needed to join the Church. Ben baptized his best friend when they were 16. Kelon said of his baptism, “I had finally found peace, and I felt the loving arms of the Savior as I came out of the font. I’m grateful for good friends who live what they believe.”

Elder Falabella learned early that gaining a testimony begins with a desire to know the truth and a willingness to live it.
Born on May 9, 1950, to Udine and Leonor Falabella, Elder Falabella was 12 when missionaries knocked on his family’s door in Guatemala City, where he was born and raised. The oldest of four children whose mother had died several years earlier, Elder Falabella recognized that there was something different about the missionaries. He saw it in the love they showed and the power with which they taught.
“I wanted to know what they knew,” he recalls. That desire and his willingness to do what the missionaries asked led to his conversion.
“Very early on I learned to appreciate the Savior’s words: ‘If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself’ (John 7:17). If we will live gospel principles, the Spirit can touch our hearts, and we will learn that they are really true.”

While I was serving as president of the West European Mission I had the opportunity of association with some of the servicemen stationed there. The president of the servicemen’s stake told me an interesting story.
He said that while he was executive secretary in the stake, the general of his army unit called him and told him he would like to have him serve as his assistant, which would require him to accompany the general wherever he went. Recognizing how this would affect his Church position and his responsibilities to his family, the brother told the general he would have to forego this assignment.
The general said, “Do you mean you would turn your back on this promotion because of your family and your Church?”
The brother said, “Yes, that is what I mean.”
The general said, “Well, then, forget it.” But he called back in a few days and said that he still wanted him for the job, that he would make the necessary adjustments for the man to carry out his responsibilities to the Church and to his family.
Another of the servicemen who had served a full-time mission told me he had baptized more converts during a year in the service than he had in two and one-half years on his mission in France. This is how we remember who we are and act accordingly.

Strength and courage also characterize another couple. As faithful members of the Church, they had always upheld its doctrines, including the twelfth article of faith. When their country went to war, military conscription called the dutiful husband away from his wife before either had learned she was to bear their child. He was captured by enemy troops and taken as a prisoner of war. Months elapsed. Their baby came. Still no word to know whether the new father was alive. A year after his capture, he was permitted to write to his wife.
Meanwhile, though countries apart, they each remained faithful to covenants made at baptism. Even though clothed in prisoner’s stripes and able to speak the language of his captors’ country only in a limited way, he became Sunday School superintendent of the branch. He baptized four fellow prisoners during their confinement. Three years after the war ended, he returned home to his wife and a son he had never seen. Later, he served for ten years as the first stake president of his country. Now he is a member of the presidency of one of our temples! His wife stands faithfully beside him in the privilege of that sacred assignment.

“Dad, I don’t want to go,” Spencer said.
“You promised Grandpa you would help him today,” Dad said.
“I don’t want to go to the dump,” Spencer said. “Why doesn’t Grandpa put his garbage can on the curb like everyone else?”
“You promised you would go, so you need to go,” Dad said.
“This is silly,” Spencer thought. Why did he have to waste a day of his vacation at the dump?
A few minutes later, Grandpa drove up in his pickup truck. Two garbage cans were loaded in the back. Spencer climbed into the passenger’s seat.
“We have just a few stops to make before we go to the dump,” Grandpa said.
“This is going to take forever,” Spencer thought as he stared out the window.
Grandpa pulled into his neighbors’ driveway. The couple who lived there had been his grandparents’ neighbors for almost 50 years. Arlo and Wanda were always nice to Spencer when he came to visit. The front door opened and Wanda walked out.
“I wish you wouldn’t trouble yourself with this,” she said to Grandpa as he hauled her garbage can into the truck.
“No trouble at all,” Grandpa said.
“You have the kindest grandpa in the world,” Wanda said to Spencer.
“Give Arlo my best,” Grandpa said.
“I will. Thank you,” Wanda said. A tear fell down her cheek.
“What’s wrong with Arlo?” Spencer asked as they drove away.
“He’s really sick. Wanda has to do everything for him now. It’s a lot of hard work, but she doesn’t complain.”
A few minutes later they pulled into another driveway. A small woman was struggling to keep a garbage can from tipping over as she tried to move it from the garage.
“Minnie!” Grandpa jumped out of the truck. “What are you doing?”
“I’m just trying to help,” she said.
Minnie was another one of Grandpa’s neighbors. Grandpa took the garbage can from her.
“I think you’ve grown a foot since last summer, Spencer,” Minnie said, smiling at Spencer. “I’m sorry I haven’t brought over any waffles, but these old hands don’t do much cooking anymore.”
Minnie was an excellent cook and used to bring over a batch of waffles when Spencer and his family came to visit Grandma and Grandpa.
“That’s OK, Minnie,” Spencer said.
“I don’t know what I would do without your grandpa and grandma, Spencer,” Minnie said. “This world needs more people like them.”
Grandpa loaded Minnie’s can into the back of the truck, and soon they were driving down a long, dusty road outside of town. “This is our last stop,” Grandpa said.
“Who lives here?” Spencer asked.
“A new family that moved in a few months ago. They are having a hard time. I told them I would haul their trash for them so they wouldn’t have to pay for garbage service. At first they told me I didn’t need to.”
“Then why do it?” Spencer asked.
Grandpa smiled at Spencer. “Because I can,” he said.
Spencer stared out the window, thinking about what Grandpa had just said. He realized that Grandpa didn’t help people because he had to do it. He helped people because that’s the kind of person he was.
Grandpa parked the truck, but before he could get out, Spencer said, “You stay in the truck, Grandpa. I’ll get these cans for you.”
Grandpa smiled and let Spencer do the work. Spencer hauled the garbage cans to the road and then climbed back into the truck.
“Now we can go to the dump,” Grandpa said.
As they drove away, Spencer thought about all the people Grandpa helped.
“I guess helping people isn’t silly after all,” Spencer said.
Grandpa smiled. “No,” he said. “It’s one of the most important things we can do.”

A couple of years ago my family and I moved. The first few weeks that I attended church and Mutual, I felt alone. But I prayed every day that I would be able to make new friends and feel a part of my new ward. Little by little I have come to love and appreciate this ward. I had to be the one to initiate friendships. I had to start the conversation. I had to fully participate in classes and listen to what others said. With Heavenly Father’s help, I now have close friendships with people I never pictured being friends with.
Leah V., 16, Colorado, USA

Now my baby brother is a father, and my dad lies in a hospital bed in San Diego, California, USA. Though he sees palm trees, he thinks he is a boy turning irrigation water down the rows of corn, tomatoes, and green beans. But he is not. He is dying.
Day after day, my mother, brothers, and sister gather around his bed. My mother calls me at my home in the mountains of Utah, USA. She tells me that when she shows my dad old family photos, a smile comes across his sunken face. Other times, his brothers, long since dead, wander in and out of his mind and heart. She tries to get him to eat, but he refuses. He tells her that his brothers have caught some trout and he has to go take care of the horses before dinner.
One by one we have made peace with the knowledge that when he passes from this mortal life, our dad will be “taken home to that God who gave [us] life,” to “paradise, … where [he will] rest from all [his] troubles and from all care, and sorrow” (Alma 40:11–12).
I call my mother and she hands the phone to my dad. To my surprise, he begins to sing to me: “Close your sleepy eyes, my little buckaroo, while your Heavenly Father watches over you.”
I wonder if my dad really knows it’s me. He probably doesn’t, but this song comes as a gift drifting into my heart. I weep in gratitude for this tender mercy from my Heavenly Father and for His plan of salvation. Soon the lullaby is over, and I imagine my dad’s eyes beginning to droop. The moment is gone, but I find hope in the knowledge that death is part of God’s plan to bring us home to Him. I believe in God’s plan and in His love for us as we pass from this life. I whisper, “Goodnight, Daddy. Go to sleep. Our Heavenly Father is watching over you.”

15-year-old Nicole Luz’s voice isn’t the only thing that made an impact when she was on the Brazilian reality show The Voice Kids in 2016. People noticed the necklace she wore every time she performed—her Young Women medallion.
Nicole grew up in a musical family, surrounded by music since birth. “My parents have beautiful voices,” she says. “They inspired me to be a singer.” Since performing on The Voice Kids, Nicole has continued performing and recently placed second in an international talent competition. She still sets an example with her personal values and gospel standards.
“Music inspires me to strengthen my testimony. Through music, I can share my feelings with others and help them strengthen their testimonies, too.”

Earlier this year, I asked the young adults of the Church to consecrate a portion of their time each week to study everything Jesus said and did as recorded in the standard works. I invited them to let the scriptural citations about Jesus Christ in the Topical Guide become their personal core curriculum.

I gave that challenge because I had already accepted it myself. I read and underlined every verse cited about Jesus Christ, as listed under the main heading and the 57 subtitles in the Topical Guide. When I finished that exciting exercise, my wife asked me what impact it had on me. I told her, “I am a different man!”

I felt a renewed devotion to Him as I read again in the Book of Mormon the Savior’s own statement about His mission in mortality. He declared:
“I came into the world to do the will of my Father, because my Father sent me.
“And my Father sent me that I might be lifted up upon the cross.”
As Latter-day Saints, we refer to His mission as the Atonement of Jesus Christ, which made resurrection a reality for all and made eternal life possible for those who repent of their sins and receive and keep essential ordinances and covenants.
It is doctrinally incomplete to speak of the Lord’s atoning sacrifice by shortcut phrases, such as “the Atonement” or “the enabling power of the Atonement” or “applying the Atonement” or “being strengthened by the Atonement.” These expressions present a real risk of misdirecting faith by treating the event as if it had living existence and capabilities independent of our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ.
Under the Father’s great eternal plan, it is the Savior who suffered. It is the Savior who broke the bands of death. It is the Savior who paid the price for our sins and transgressions and blots them out on condition of our repentance. It is the Savior who delivers us from physical and spiritual death.
There is no amorphous entity called “the Atonement” upon which we may call for succor, healing, forgiveness, or power. Jesus Christ is the source. Sacred terms such as Atonement and Resurrection describe what the Savior did, according to the Father’s plan, so that we may live with hope in this life and gain eternal life in the world to come. The Savior’s atoning sacrifice—the central act of all human history—is best understood and appreciated when we expressly and clearly connect it to Him.
The importance of the Savior’s mission was emphasized by the Prophet Joseph Smith, who declared emphatically that “the fundamental principles of our religion are the testimony of the Apostles and Prophets, concerning Jesus Christ, that He died, was buried, and rose again the third day, and ascended into heaven; and all other things which pertain to our religion are only appendages to it.”
It was this very statement of the Prophet that provided the incentive for 15 prophets, seers, and revelators to issue and sign their testimony to commemorate the 2,000th anniversary of the Lord’s birth. That historic testimony is titled “The Living Christ.” Many members have memorized its truths. Others barely know of its existence. As you seek to learn more about Jesus Christ, I urge you to study “The Living Christ.”
As we invest time in learning about the Savior and His atoning sacrifice, we are drawn to participate in another key element to accessing His power: we choose to have faith in Him and follow Him.
True disciples of Jesus Christ are willing to stand out, speak up, and be different from the people of the world. They are undaunted, devoted, and courageous. I learned of such disciples during a recent assignment in Mexico, where I met with government officials as well as leaders of other religious denominations. Each thanked me for our members’ heroic and successful efforts to protect and preserve strong marriages and families in their country.
There is nothing easy or automatic about becoming such powerful disciples. Our focus must be riveted on the Savior and His gospel. It is mentally rigorous to strive to look unto Him in every thought. But when we do, our doubts and fears flee.
Recently I learned of a fearless young Laurel. She was invited to participate in a statewide competition for her high school on the same evening she had committed to participate in a stake Relief Society meeting. When she realized the conflict and explained to competition officials that she would need to leave the competition early to attend an important meeting, she was told she would be disqualified if she did so.
What did this latter-day Laurel do? She kept her commitment to participate in the Relief Society meeting. As promised, she was disqualified from the statewide competition. When asked about her decision, she replied simply, “Well, the Church is more important, isn’t it?”
Faith in Jesus Christ propels us to do things we otherwise would not do. Faith that motivates us to action gives us more access to His power.
We also increase the Savior’s power in our lives when we make sacred covenants and keep those covenants with precision. Our covenants bind us to Him and give us godly power. As faithful disciples, we repent and follow Him into the waters of baptism. We walk along the covenant path to receive other essential ordinances. And gratefully, God’s plan provides for those blessings to be extended to ancestors who died without an opportunity to obtain them during their mortal lives.
Covenant-keeping men and women seek for ways to keep themselves unspotted from the world so there will be nothing blocking their access to the Savior’s power. One faithful wife and mother wrote this recently: “These are troubled and perilous times. How blessed we are to have the increased knowledge of the plan of salvation and the inspired guidance from loving prophets, apostles, and leaders to help us sail these stormy seas safely. We stopped our habit of turning on the radio in the morning. Instead, we now listen to a general conference talk on our mobile phones every morning as we prepare ourselves for another day.”
Another element in drawing the Savior’s power into our lives is to reach up to Him in faith. Such reaching requires diligent, focused effort.
Do you remember the biblical story of the woman who suffered for 12 years with a debilitating problem? She exercised great faith in the Savior, exclaiming, “If I may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole.”
This faithful, focused woman needed to stretch as far as she could to access His power. Her physical stretching was symbolic of her spiritual stretching.
Many of us have cried out from the depths of our hearts a variation of this woman’s words: “If I could spiritually stretch enough to draw the Savior’s power into my life, I would know how to handle my heart-wrenching situation. I would know what to do. And I would have the power to do it.”
When you reach up for the Lord’s power in your life with the same intensity that a drowning person has when grasping and gasping for air, power from Jesus Christ will be yours. When the Savior knows you truly want to reach up to Him—when He can feel that the greatest desire of your heart is to draw His power into your life—you will be led by the Holy Ghost to know exactly what you should do.
When you spiritually stretch beyond anything you have ever done before, then His power will flow into you. And then you will understand the deep meaning of words we sing in the hymn “The Spirit of God”:
The Lord is extending the Saints’ understanding. …
The knowledge and power of God are expanding;
The veil o’er the earth is beginning to burst.
The gospel of Jesus Christ is filled with His power, which is available to every earnestly seeking daughter or son of God. It is my testimony that when we draw His power into our lives, both He and we will rejoice.
As one of His special witnesses, I declare that God lives! Jesus is the Christ! His Church has been restored to the earth! God’s prophet upon the earth today is President Thomas S. Monson, whom I sustain with all my heart. I so testify, with my expression of love and blessing for each of you, in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Mia was excited. It was her first time at church! The missionaries told her family about this church. They decided to come.
Mia looked around. She saw a white cloth on a table. Something was under it.
“What’s under that cloth?” Mia asked one of the missionaries.
Sister Hanson smiled. “It’s the sacrament.”
Sacrament. That was a big word. Mia had heard the missionaries telling Mommy and Daddy about it. But she wasn’t sure what it was.
Everyone sang a song. Two men lifted the white cloth. Trays of bread were under it! Mia watched them break the bread into pieces.
After the song a man said a prayer. Other men passed the bread to everyone.
“The bread helps us remember Jesus’s body,” Sister García whispered.
Mia took a piece of bread. She imagined Jesus standing in front of her.
Then there was another prayer. The men passed trays with tiny cups of water.
“The water helps us remember Jesus’s blood,” Sister García whispered. “He died for us because He loves us.”
Mia took a cup of water. She thought about how much Jesus loved her. She felt like He was giving her a big hug.
Later Sister Hanson gave Mia a little picture of Jesus. “We eat the bread and drink the water to remember Jesus. We promise to follow Him.” She smiled. “What did you think of the sacrament?”
Mia looked at the picture of Jesus. She remembered the warm feeling she had. She smiled too. “It was great! I love Jesus.”

Another “father” in my life was a member of my stake presidency. President Merrill was always at our stake dances, Young Women camps, and youth conferences.
As I was preparing to leave for college, President Merrill felt I needed some fatherly advice before heading into the world. His voice was gentle and soothing. I could feel his concern. I knew he loved me. He told me he would go as far as the Salt Lake Temple to attend my wedding.
A few years later, I called my father to announce my engagement. He was cold and indifferent. Nothing had changed. I tried not to cry. I turned to my Heavenly Father in prayer, and the Spirit reminded me of President Merrill’s promise. I wondered if he would remember what he had told me several years before. Did he really mean it? I picked up the phone and dialed his number. President Merrill answered. I stumbled through telling him of my engagement and asked if he remembered his promise to me. “What temple are you getting married in?” he asked.
“The Salt Lake Temple,” I answered.
“Then I will be there,” he said. He drove 13 hours in the snow to be there for me. When I walked into the sealing room with my soon-to-be husband, President Merrill was the first person I saw. He was my father that day!

Ray Hedgecock, 15, walked out of a stereo shop to get on his bike and head for home, then decided to go back in and look at some tapes. Moments later the lights went out, the ground began to rumble and shake, glass shattered out of windows, and stereos bounced off of shelves. The beam Ray was standing under protected him from falling light fixtures. Thirty-two seconds later, his bicycle was buried under a pile of bricks, the building across the street was ablaze with fire, and most of the buildings within four blocks were reduced to rubble. “All you could hear was the ground rumbling, it was so loud. There was so much dust you couldn’t even see across the street,” Ray recalled.

I remember, too, my mother as she went through eight years of being paralyzed. The last year and a half she needed care around the clock, and my dear father cared for her. One night, a few weeks before she passed away, I knelt at her bed after a word of prayer and she said, “I would like to go to heaven to see Papa.”

I said, “Mother, why have you gone through this pain?”

She said, “To learn patience.”

“Mother, have you learned enough patience?”

Then, with a mother’s kind way of teaching, she looked at me and said, “I have, but have you?”

At such moments we begin to understand that the difficulties and problems of others, if we will feel them, will make us grow, if we will but lend a hand.

Beautifully exemplifying the theme of our conferences was a talk given by Elder Boyd K. Packer on “the voice of warning.” He began by quoting from the first section of the Doctrine and Covenants, wherein the Lord said:
“The voice of warning shall be unto all people, by the mouths of my disciples, whom I have chosen in these last days.
“And they shall go forth and none shall stay them, for I the Lord have commanded them.” (D&C 1:4–5.)
He then referred to the recent collapse of the Teton Dam in Idaho, and graphically described what happened on that occasion as houses, churches, and whole towns vanished. In all, 790 homes were destroyed, and 800 others were severely damaged, as were schools, churches, business houses, etc. About 7,800 people were in the immediate path of the flood, and farther down the valley another 25,000 or 30,000 were in danger. I quote:
“But what happened to the people that Saturday morning? There was a miracle! There were several deaths, but only six of them by drowning. How could such terrible destruction take place with such a little loss of life?
“The answer: they were warned. A number of them had been subjected to a restless, anxious feeling that morning, and so responded instantly when the warning came. They heeded the warning. Latter-day Saints pay attention to warnings. They have read the revelation which states:
“‘For this is a day of warning, and not a day of many words. For I, the Lord, am not to be mocked in the last days.’” (D&C 63:58.)
Elder Packer stated that by scientific calculations 5,300 lives might have been lost, but there were so few. And it was not a case of going upstairs onto the roof. The houses were completely washed away, and most of the people had miles to go to reach high ground. They were saved because they heeded a warning and then warned their neighbors.
He quoted again from the revelations: “And let those whom they have warned in their traveling call on the Lord, and ponder the warning in their hearts which they have received. … Behold, I sent you out to testify and warn the people, and it becometh every man who hath been warned to warn his neighbor.” (D&C 88:71, 81.)
Then he said: “That is how they were saved. Everyone, when warned, raised the voice of warning to his family and to his neighbors. … Do you think they were casual about it? That is not the way it happened. The warnings were shouted and screamed. Horns were honked. Every means was used to sound the warning. ‘Come out of the valley. A flood is coming!’
“Of the six drowned, one stood just below the dam and had no chance. The others either failed to heed the warning or went back to get something. Every man who was warned, warned his neighbor. There are chapter after chapter of miracles. The whole episode stands as a mighty miracle. And the whole disaster looms itself as a warning.”

It was the most exciting thing to happen that fall or any fall. “I just have to go, Mama,” Kate insisted. But Mama said no.
“Please, Mama. I’ve wanted to be a magician all my life, well, anyway, ever since I read that magic book Papa brought me.”
“I know, Kate,” Mama said. “I’m truly sorry and I wish it were possible, but Papa has to go into town to see the lawyer about the pastureland, and I have an appointment with the doctor. That leaves only you to stay with Sarah.”
Mama put her hand gently on her daughter’s head. “You know she can’t go outside until she’s better. You heard what the doctor said about keeping her from chilling.”
I heard him all right, Kate thought. It’s just that I hoped I could find a way to see the magic show.
Sarah coughed upstairs in the loft where she lay on a straw bed covered with warm quilts and a comforter. “Mama,” she called.
Mama said, “You go, will you please, Kate, and see what she wants? Papa’s waiting for me in the wagon.”
Kate went slowly up the ladder to the loft. She looked out the window and saw the wagon pulling away, raising a cloud of dust behind it. She felt her eyes sting when she thought of the magic show and all the excitement in town.
She could just see the bright red wagon with its bells and silver trim pulled by prancing white horses. There would probably be a silver awning over the driver, who would be the magician himself. He would be wearing a tall hat with gold tassels, very tight pants, and black shiny boots. And his long, expressive hands would be able to fool everyone who came to watch. Everyone except maybe Kate. She knew from reading her book how some of the tricks were done.
“What is it?” she asked Sarah impatiently.
“I …” Sarah began. Then suddenly she turned her face to the wall, but not before Kate saw the quick tears come into her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Kate apologized. She sat on the bed and took Sarah’s hot hands into hers. “I didn’t mean to be cross. Now what can I get for you? A piece of cloud? A chunk of the barn roof?”
“Kate,” Sarah said, trying to match her sister’s smile, “all I want is a drink of water.”
“I guess I can manage that,” Kate said. She went down the ladder and out to the well. As she brought the sloshing bucket up, Kate thought she heard someone behind her. She turned and was startled to see an elderly man standing there.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” the stranger said. He had a long gray beard and wore a huge floppy hat that let long wisps of hair fly out behind. “I just wondered if you could spare some water for me and my horse over there.”
Kate turned to look where he was pointing. A tired horse and an old wagon stood at the edge of the clearing.
“He’s come up lame,” the man said.
“Here,” said Kate, “you can get a drink from this bucket and your horse can drink from the trough. Then we’ll take him into the barn where I can look at his hoof. I’m pretty good with horses.”
The old man unhitched the old horse and let it drink before leading it to a stall. Kate brought some medicine and bandages. Gently she talked to the horse while applying some ointment. Then she expertly wrapped the leg with white strips of cotton cloth. “He’ll be all right now,” she announced, “but you better let him rest a little while.”
“You’ve done a good job,” he said. “Never saw a horse doctor do better. I’ll just settle down here for a bit and keep him company.”
Kate left the old man in the barn and hurried into the house with the bucket. She explained the delay to Sarah and told her all about the man and the horse. Then she went down to fix dinner. While she was boiling potatoes, she imagined the silken scarves that the magician would draw out of his sleeves, the top hat with the rabbit suddenly appearing under it, the doves that would fly out of his coat and swoop around the tent.
She took a tray up to Sarah and then went to the barn and invited the old man up to the house for something to eat.
“I’d be grateful,” he said. “And look how much better my horse is.”
Kate led the way to the house. Later, when the old man had finished his meal, he patted the front of his vest and said, “That was a fine meal. I would like to pay you for it and also for treating my horse.”
“Oh, I don’t want pay,” Kate told him. “Mama says that we should do whatever we can to help people, and it will come back to us in some way. So don’t you worry about it.”
“There is something I can do if you’d like. I’m on my way to the next town to give a magic show. I’d never have made it without your help.”
“You mean you’re a—”
“I’m a magician, yes. How would you like to ride into town with me and see a free show?”
Kate thought for just one wonderful moment about riding into town high up on the wagon seat with the magician, waving and smiling at the crowd. But then she explained to him about Sarah.
“Ah, then,” he said, “I’ll just put on a show for you right here!”
He folded down the sides of the wagon and opened up the ends to display a stage full of interesting and exciting things—flags, bells, horns, metal tables with “invisible” tops, silk scarves, hats, balls, and balloons.
“Wait until I get back before you start,” Kate said, running to the house. She climbed the ladder and pulled and tugged Sarah’s bed over to the window. “Look out,” she said, “and watch the magic show. The man with the lame horse I told you about is the magician who was on his way to town!”
After she was sure Sarah was comfortable, Kate hurried back outside and onto the porch steps where she sat hugging her knees.
The magician had changed. He no longer looked like a tired old man. He was dressed in a red velvet jacket, a white top hat, and very tight breeches that tucked into shiny black boots. His hands were thin and dexterous, and he used them in ways that even Kate could not follow. He made things appear and disappear and fly and walk and multiply and divide and waver and float until her head was spinning.
And then, too soon, the show was over. The magician bowed, folded up the sides of his wagon, and went into the barn to change. When he came out leading his horse, the magician looked just the same as he did when Kate first saw him. “My horse is hardly limping now,” he said. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You’ve more than thanked me,” Kate answered. “I’ll remember your wonderful magic show all my life. I’m going to be a magician some day too.”
“If you really want to be one, you will, young lady,” the magician said encouragingly. And then, handing her a carved wooden box with a tiny gold clasp on the lid, he said, “Here, this will be your first magic prop.”
Inside was layer upon layer of beautiful silk scarves. They were in shades of palest pink to fiery red to deep purple.
“From me and my horse,” he said. “Take them and learn to use them. I know you can do it.”
“Oh, I will,” Kate promised. “And thank you ever so much.”
As the magician drove off down the road toward town, Kate thought of the excited people who would watch the show. Some were probably already sitting in the tent waiting for the famous magician. But she and Sarah had seen his show already!
Her feet hardly touching the rungs, Kate flew up the ladder to show the box of scarves to Sarah.