Gospel Story Finder

“I want you to finish page twenty-seven in your spelling book tonight,” Mrs. Fielding reminded her class. “And your oral reports on what you want to be when you grow up are due Monday morning.”
The boys and girls buzzed eagerly about their oral reports. Only Carlos sat silently staring at his desk. His friend Robert smiled at him. After six weeks in his new school, Carlos had made only one friend—Robert. Somehow it was easy to talk to Robert.
The recess bell rang, and the chattering class hurried outside.
“Hey, Robert! C’mon! We’re starting a game!” It was Steve, the captain of the class baseball team.
“Great!” Robert called back. “Can Carlos play too?”
Steve hesitated. “I guess so. Is he any good?”
“He’s good,” said Robert. He turned back to Carlos and said, “Come on, Carlos, show them.”
But Carlos pulled back. “No,” he mumbled, “not today. I—I just don’t know how to talk to them. And when I don’t talk, they think I don’t know how to play baseball.”
“Carlos, you’ve got to talk to people,” Robert told his friend. “What are you going to do when you have to give your oral report next week in front of the whole class?”
“I don’t know,” Carlos answered glumly.
Robert smiled encouragingly at his friend. “Come on, Carlos, let’s play catch and not worry about it now. We’ll think of something for your report.” He tossed the ball to Carlos. “It’s easy to have friends. Just show them you’re friendly.”
After school Robert walked home with Carlos. As they climbed the steps, a man opened the front door.
“Uncle Ernesto!” Carlos yelled excitedly, hugging his uncle.
After he introduced Robert to Uncle Ernesto, Carlos told Robert that his uncle’s hobby was making puppets and putting on plays. “Uncle Ernesto lets me help with the shows sometimes,” said Carlos. They all went inside, and Uncle Ernesto brought out his new puppets to show the boys. Carlos picked one up and demonstrated how the strings made the puppets appear to wave, dance, and even talk.
“Aren’t you nervous doing a show in front of people?” asked Robert, admiring a little donkey puppet.
“Not really,” answered Carlos. “It’s as though I’m one of the puppets instead of me. I feel much braver then.”
“I guess I understand,” said Robert. “I feel that way when I’m a player on the field.” He thought for a moment, gently wiggling the strings on the bullfighter puppet. Suddenly his face lit up and he exclaimed, “Say, Carlos, why don’t you let the puppets give your oral report to the class! You could talk, but everyone would be watching them.”
Carlos grinned happily. “That’s a great idea!”
On Monday three other students gave their reports before Carlos gave his, and everyone was impatient to see what was in the large box he had brought with him. When it was finally Carlos’s turn, he asked for permission to set up a small puppet stage on Mrs. Fielding’s desk.
The curtains opened, and even Robert was surprised to see two baseball player puppets. Carlos made them look as if they were playing catch while they talked about baseball. Carlos really knew a lot about baseball. Steve and the other boys looked at each other in surprise.
The puppets batted and ran and slid, and the class was delighted as they listened eagerly to Carlos’s report.
“You are part of a team,” said one of the puppets in a deep voice, “so you try to do your best for your friends.”
“That’s why I want to be a baseball player,” the second puppet said in Carlos’s natural voice. Then the puppets made funny little bows and bounced off the stage.
The class whispered noisily, and Steve spoke up. “That was great! He really knows the game.” Later, at recess, Steve walked over to Robert and Carlos. “Hey, you guys, let’s play ball. We need you both on the team.”

Jackie Harrison Skaff just graduated last June and got her first job to teach this summer in a local high school, famous for its tough, rowdy students. A haole from Alaska, in her first teaching job after college, in a classroom full of local kids, Jackie was filled with anxiety. Would they accept her? Could she love them, help them? When the class roll was sent to her, she pored over the different multi-ethnic names and then humbly knelt and prayed over each name, pronouncing it the best she could before the Lord and asking Him to help her love that child and to know what he or she needed. The result was marvelous miracles. When she walked into the class, there was instant rapport. And love has prevailed ever since.

I was taking photos during a family vacation when a beautiful melody popped into my mind. I love music and composing, so I quickly hummed the song into my camera to remember and work on it later.
That afternoon, I was looking through the cool photos on my camera. I decided to check how much memory my camera had left. It was 67% full.
I clicked OK, not realizing I had just said OK to reformatting my memory card! In a matter of seconds, all my photos and my recording were erased. I was sad about losing the pictures, but I was especially sad about losing the melody.
I tried telling myself it would be okay, but I was devastated. That night, I prayed that the photos and melody could be retrieved.
After returning from the vacation, I kept tinkering with the camera and most of the pictures finally appeared. I was overjoyed! It felt like a direct answer to my prayers.
However, I was crushed when I couldn’t find the recording of the melody. I kept praying and hoping that the song would come back.
Many weeks later as I was doing chores, a strangely familiar melody came into my head. It was the song! I couldn’t believe it! I quickly recorded it on the piano.
I have no doubt Heavenly Father answered my prayer. It was something so small, but He answered. I know He can bring hope into our lives when all seems lost.
Benjamin G., Utah, USA

On 5 February 1989, Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles issued a challenge to the young men of the Tokyo, Japan, East Stake. “Every worthy priesthood bearer should go on a mission,” he said. “It is his responsibility.”
One young man in the congregation who accepted that challenge was Hidemasa Yatabe* Hidemasa, a student at Tsukuba University near Tokyo, had thought often about serving a mission, but up until then it has been an unfulfilled wish.
As for many young men, it was a difficult decision. For Hidemasa to serve a mission would mean giving up his position on the All-Japan gymnastics team and opportunity to appear in international competition.
“The university had only a few gymnasts,” he says, “and our success was based on team members dedicating a great deal of time practicing together. We even ate together. We became as one technically, mentally, and emotionally. The loss of even one member of a team like that disrupts the entire team. So although I always wanted to go on a mission, I wasn’t sure how I could leave the team.”
Since his baptism in 1981, the only convert in his family, Hidemasa had been a faithful member of the Church. In 1987, Elder Oaks was in Tokyo and visited some of the Saints’ homes, including Hidemasa’s. At that time, Elder oaks blessed Hidemasa that he would be able to serve a mission. Now, two years later, that blessing was recalled and Hidemasa resolved to accept Elder Oaks’ stake conference challenge.
“However, for the next six months, gymnastics and class studies took all my time. I practiced hard to earn the right to attend the All-Japan gymnastics championship.
“But even as I began to prepare mentally and physically for future world-class competition, my desire to serve a mission became stronger and stronger. After the student championship, I was interviewed by my bishop and stake president. In the interview, the stake president said to me, ‘If you plan to go on a mission only when it is convenient for you, perhaps the Lord might bless you only when it is convenient for him.’ I was convinced that I should send in my application right away.”
When Hidemasa announced his intentions to his teammates and coach, he met with immediate opposition. “My teammates all tried to stop me from going,” he says. “It is not an overstatement to say that winning the All-Japan championship was everything my teammates had worked toward in their youth. It would be the most significant event of their lives.”
Teammates began to accuse Hidemasa of deserting the team and blame him for hurting their chances of winning in nationwide competition. “Why can’t you wait for another year?” they asked. “We have worked so hard.” At other times they would say, “Religion should make people happy; so why are you making us suffer?”
“I was grateful for the support the team members had given me in my athletic career,” Hidemasa says, “and I didn’t want to disappoint them. Without their help, I would not have achieved what I did. For me to leave for a mission meant that I would destroy all that we had worked together to build. I knew exactly how they felt. It was painful.”
To ease that pain, Hidemasa looked to the words of Church leaders for consolation. He found it in a statement by President Ezra Taft Benson, which seemed to apply especially to him: “One of the most difficult tests of all is when you have to choose between pleasing God or pleasing someone you love or respect. … We should give God, the Father of our spirits, an exclusive preeminence in our lives. … The greatest test of life is obedience to God.” (“The Great Commandment—Love the Lord,” April General Conference, 1988.)
After reading this, Hidemasa felt strengthened and comforted. Still, there was no way for his teammates to understand the words of President Benson or the mission call. So when his teammates harassed him, he said nothing.
Finally, the last day of practice came—23 September 1989.
“I will never forget that day,” Hidemasa says. “I was practicing and thinking I would like to give something to the members of my team. Suddenly, I was summoned by my coach. He said to me harshly, ‘This is a training area for athletes, and not a place for you. Gather up all your belongings and get out.’”
Saddened, Hidemasa collected his things and prepared to leave. But as the left the practice area for the last time, he received a special witness from the Lord that he had made the correct decision. He recorded in his journal:
“My life as an athlete was finished. I would never again step into the gymnasium as a competitor. At that moment, I realized that everything I had worked toward had ended, and I could not help but cry. Everything, all the gymnastic life that I had worked so hard to build for the past ten years, including the inter-high school championship, the collegiate championship and the All-Japan championship, had come to an end.
“With that very poignant realization, I glanced back at the gymnasium. I felt that nothing remained for me there but an empty darkness. Suddenly, tears flowed freely as if to cleanse me. They were not tears of sorrow, but rather tears of gratitude. I felt the deepest gratitude for the many people who had supported, helped, and encouraged me for the last ten years. And I was sincerely grateful to Jesus Christ for his unequaled love and mercy. I rejoiced in the opportunity to demonstrate my love for him.”
During the next few days, Hidemasa visited the homes of his teammates, sharing with each one his testimony of Jesus Christ. Amazingly, their attitudes changed. “The Lord softened their hearts, and many of them began to understand my situation,” Hidemasa says.
The day before he left the university, his teammates held a farewell party for him. “Almost all my former teammates attended and gave me words of encouragement,” Hidemasa says. “One of them even congratulated me on my decision. I was able to talk to them about the Savior, declare the gospel, and give out copies of the Book of Mormon.”
Even after Hidemasa left the university, it was still painful for him to think of his teammates and what he had left behind. But later, when he went to the Tokyo Temple to receive his endowments, he had another experience that reinforced his decision.
“As I entered the celestial room, I felt a great spiritual awakening, and I understood the magnitude of the blessings our Father in Heaven has in store for us. I realized that, eternally, serving a mission was the best thing for me—and for my family, and for my former teammates.
“I was born again in Jesus Christ. There is power and strength in His name, and Satan is powerless against such strength. This is the testimony I gained in the temple.”
Since then, Hidemasa has never looked back. “Faith always accompanies sacrifice,” he says. “I sincerely testify that no matter how big a sacrifice you make, if you obey your Father in Heaven, blessings will be returned to you perhaps hundreds, perhaps thousands of times.”
One of those blessings is that Hidemasa’s parents are now receiving the missionary discussions. And he still keeps in touch with his former teammates.
What is the price of obedience? For Hidemasa Yatabe, student and gymnast, the price seemed high. But for Elder Hidemasa Yatabe, no price is too high, if it means keeping the Lord’s commandments.
“No matter how valuable things might be, they will never take the place of the great glory and blessings our Father in Heaven has in store for us,” he says. “There will be a time when you will receive an eternal reward no matter how big a sacrifice you pay to become a faithful member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

Such ward activities not only built positive relationships among members of the Church but also built positive relationships with everyone in the community.

“I remember one woman, not a member of the Church, who was new to the area,” David says. “She had been reduced to burning wood paneling from her home to keep warm. Once we learned about her plight, we made sure she had enough firewood to get through the winter. She was so thankful she could barely speak.”

Ministering efforts in Fredonia ensured that everyone stayed safe and warm through the winter.

This became clear to me some years ago when, as a young father, I needed to purchase some temple clothing. Upon entering the store, my attention was drawn to a sign on the counter that read “For Latter-day Saints Only.” The message jolted me. In my mind, an argument ensued. Why does it say “For Latter-day Saints Only”? I asked myself. Why doesn’t it say something like “For Endowed Church Members”? Why does it raise this issue of being a “Latter-day Saint”?

The years since have tempered my impetuous nature. That argumentative encounter of long ago has become a treasured, defining moment. The experience taught me that just being a member of this Church is not enough. Nor is merely going through the motions of membership sufficient in this day of cynicism and unbelief. The spirituality and vigilance of a saint are required.

One day I was preparing to give a talk in sacrament meeting. I was studying the article “The Atonement of Jesus Christ” by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in the March 2008 Liahona. In his article, Elder Holland relates a dream Elder Orson F. Whitney (1855–1931) had in which he saw the Savior in the Garden of Gethsemane. Elder Whitney described the pain and suffering he saw the Savior bear. Then he wrote:
“Presently He arose and walked to where [the] Apostles were kneeling—fast asleep! He shook them gently, awoke them, and in a tone of tender reproach, untinctured by the least show of anger or scolding, asked them if they could not watch with Him one hour. …
“Returning to His place, He prayed again and then went back and found them again sleeping. Again He awoke them, admonished them, and returned and prayed as before. Three times this happened.”1
As I read this, the spirit of revelation entered my mind. In that instant, I realized that the way I could “watch with Him one hour” was in the way I approached sacrament meeting each Sunday. Since then, I have learned that this is an hour in which we can pray to our Heavenly Father in a more meaningful way. Prayer is fundamental at all times, but the Spirit present in that hour of the sacrament is an opportunity to elevate ourselves closer to Heavenly Father and our Savior, Jesus Christ. When we focus our thoughts on the Lord, it is, in a way, accompanying Him at the moment of the agony He endured when taking upon Himself our sins. It is a time to acknowledge the pain He suffered for us.
Sacrament meeting means everything to me. For me it is the hour of infinite salvation. It has become a sacred time in which I remember and commit in prayer and in spirit to honor my covenants and to follow the perfect example of my Savior. I know that He lives and loves me. I know that it is only through His sacrifice and His precious blood that was spilt that we can all be saved. I know this is true because as I have worked at “watching with Him,” my understanding has been enlightened, my life has been blessed, and my vision of eternal life in His presence has been deepened.

Years ago I read a Time magazine article that reported the discovery of a letter, supposedly written by Martin Harris, that conflicted with Joseph Smith’s account of finding the Book of Mormon plates.14
A few members left the Church because of the document.15
Sadly, they left too quickly. Months later experts discovered (and the forger confessed) that the letter was a complete deception.16 You may understandably question what you hear on the news, but you need never doubt the testimony of God’s prophets.

When she was 26, Cristina’s health quickly declined. She went to São Paulo for some tests. There she learned she needed another surgery. During the operation, Cristina suffered a heart attack that caused brain damage. Months passed, and she did not improve. As a family we gathered together to fast and pray for her recovery, but she did not improve. We decided to fast again, this time asking for help to accept the will of our Father in Heaven. The following day Cristina passed away.
This was not what we hoped for, but we realized this was a miracle too. Cristina no longer had to suffer. The gospel gave us joy and peace, even in moments of deep sadness. Because we have been sealed, we know we can be with Cristina again.

President Harold B. Lee told of a great educator, Horace Mann, who “was the speaker at the dedication of a … boys’ school. … In his talk he said, ‘This school has cost hundreds of thousands of dollars; but if this school is able to save one boy, it is worth all that it cost.’ One of his friends came up to [Mr. Mann] at the close of the meeting and said, ‘You let your enthusiasm get away with you, didn’t you? You … said that if this school, costing hundreds of thousands of dollars, were to save just one boy, it was worth all that it cost? You surely don’t mean that.’
“Horace Mann looked at him and said, ‘Yes, my friend. It would be worth it if that one boy were my son; it would be worth it’” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1971, 64–65; or Ensign, June 1971, 61).

Nine-year-old Camille has lots of friends. “The thing I really like about my friends is that they are all different,” she says. “They come from different places, and they have different ways of doing things.” Camille loves to learn good things from her friends, and she likes to share things with them. The best thing she’s ever shared with a friend is the gospel. After sharing the first article of faith with her friend Yailin, Camille invited her friend’s family to meet the missionaries. Camille also taught Yailin how to pray. Now Yailin and her mother are members of the Church.
My friend Yailin got baptized in 2011. I love that we can go to church together. I am helping her memorize the Articles of Faith. We’re working on the ninth article of faith.

Kim wanted to write that she and her father went to the library and discussed the books that they chose. She wanted to write that no matter how busy he was, her father always stopped to answer her questions, that he always kissed her good night and gave her a big hug.
Instead, Kim wrote the truth. She put down sentence after sentence about how lovingly her father cared for his crops, how his tenderness brought calves into the world, how often he had saved kittens from starvation. She told how he had grieved when disease killed half the chickens and a hailstorm destroyed most of the oats. She didn’t write about how she hoped that someday she would know that he loved her too.
Kim and her father made a lovely couple the night of the Daddy-Daughter dinner. Kim wore her favorite blue dress with the white lace trim, and her father looked ruggedly handsome.
During the dinner Kim’s father leaned toward her and said, “Pretty good supper. Not nearly as good as Mother makes, but pretty good.”
As they finished their dessert, the Primary president stood to announce that Kim would now give a talk about her father. Kim’s heart fluttered as she spoke.
When she had finished, the Primary president introduced Kim’s father and invited him to speak.
“I’m not used to talking much,” Kim’s father began, “except to my cows. But I would like to say that I’m proud of my daughter. I don’t tell her that often, though. You see, I was raised in a very strict home. My mother died when I was younger than Kim, and though my father was a wonderful man, he believed that showing affection made you weak. I don’t remember that he ever hugged me in his life. I guess that’s why I feel awkward about showing affection to Kim. But I’d like to tell a little story that I hope will show that I do love her.
“Kim was born in the winter months, and she caught pneumonia when she was only two months old. I tried to do the household chores because her mother had to care for her constantly. One night it was particularly hard for her to breathe. I took my little girl in my arms and blessed her and prayed for her … as hard as I’ve ever prayed for anything. Then, because her mother was totally exhausted, I sat in the rocker next to the stove and put my baby on her stomach across my lap and rocked her all that night. The doctor came the next morning and said that my rocking her in that position had given Kim’s little lungs a good night’s rest and that he thought that she was going to get well. So you see, that little girl is very special to me—she always has been, and she always will be.”
Kim’s eyes were full of tears. She wondered why she had never heard about that night before. Running to her father, she hugged him long and hard. When he put his arms around her and hugged her back, Kim felt that her heart was about to burst with joy.

My ultimate wilderness experience occurred in the jungles and rice paddies of Vietnam. I was an infantry platoon leader. Our combat missions took us deep into enemy controlled territory. On one occasion, our battalion was engaged in moving at night through "Indian country." We were going cross-country through an area of rice paddies checkered with patches of jungle, employing armored personnel carriers as our means of transport. Sometime well after dark, the vehicle I was riding in became deeply mired in a rice paddy bog. Three other vehicles became similarly mired not far away.

Not wanting to slow the movement or leave the battalion strung out in a potentially vulnerable column, the battalion commander elected to continue moving. He left me in command of the four stranded vehicles with the "reassurance" that he would send a reinforced party back to our aid once it was daylight.

So, there we were; some 20 men in four stranded personnel carriers strung out over about a quarter of a mile in enemy territory. It was tense! I made my way from one to the next to check on the welfare of the troops and their supply of ammunition. This was also an "adrenaline experience"-not only because of enemy soldiers that might be lurking in the blackness, but because my men were anxious and potentially trigger-happy.

Somehow, I made it safely to each one and back to my own vehicle. I then called in artillery fire to register concentrations around our position that might be needed if we were suddenly attacked. In addition, I asked for the artillery to fire flares periodically over the surrounding area, enabling us to see the battlefield more clearly.

It is difficult in the tranquil setting of this devotional to adequately convey the sense of security that came from these flares that would illuminate the landscape. Truly, they were a light in the wilderness!

One day many years ago I was fighting a personal battle in trying to be popular with everybody. In the midst of my distress, a thought came to me: Most people in this world do not care what happens to you. Only you will remember this unhappy experience a few months, weeks, days, or even hours from now. Furthermore, the people you respect are also unpopular with those who point the finger of scorn at you.

That event marked a turning point for me. I realized that we simply must not be afraid to stand, even quietly, in defense of virtue. We must understand that there really are two forces warring for humankind and that we cannot be in both camps. We cannot be popular with everybody.

As missionaries in the Argentina Buenos Aires South Mission, my companion, Elder Allred, and I received a referral card to contact a family from Russia. When we found the house, the woman recognized us as missionaries and invited us in to meet her family.
We quickly realized the Balva family understood very little Spanish, and it was difficult for us to understand them as well. From their broken Spanish, we gathered that they had been in Argentina only a short time but were eager to learn about the Church. We adapted the first lesson into simplified Spanish, and the family flipped through their two Russian-Spanish dictionaries as we slowly taught our message, but we weren’t sure how much of it they really understood.
After making an appointment to return, we walked home, discussing how difficult it had been to convey the meaning of our message. We wondered if the family would understand the other lessons any better or if they would get frustrated and ask us to stop coming.
We returned to visit the Balva family the following day to see how they were and if they had begun reading the Book of Mormon and praying to know of its truthfulness. To our surprise and joy, they excitedly showed us a paper on which they had written in Spanish the principles we had taught them. They also shared with us what they had read in 3 Nephi 11 regarding the Savior’s visit to the American continent, assuring us that they had understood all we had discussed the day before and that they were excited to learn more.
Over the next few weeks my testimony was strengthened as the Holy Ghost witnessed to the Balva family of the gospel’s truthfulness and enlightened their understanding in Spanish. Heavenly Father knew the desire of their hearts and recognized the sincerity of their prayers to find truth. Together, the Balva family, Elder Allred, and I experienced the joy described in D&C 50:22: “Wherefore, he that preacheth and he that receiveth, understand one another, and both are edified and rejoice together”—not because we spoke the same language but because of the universal language of the Spirit.
The Balva family introduced us to another Russian family, whom we were also privileged to teach. Both families made covenants with Heavenly Father by entering the waters of baptism not long after we met them.
I am a witness that the words of President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994) are true: “The influence of the Spirit is the most important element in this work. If you will allow the Spirit to magnify your callings, you will be able to work miracles for the Lord” (new mission presidents’ seminar, June 25, 1986).

Miriam looked at the floor. “I think I goofed,” she said. “I didn’t come up with a good idea like the others.”
“I’m sure you did fine,” Mom said. “Please tell us what you did.”
“Well, I didn’t eat my Popsicle,” began Miriam. “I saw Tony on his front porch. I said, ‘Hi,’ but he didn’t say anything. Then I remembered that he had his tonsils taken out Monday. That really makes your throat hurt. So I gave my Popsicle to him, and I sat by him and told him stories and jokes until I saw everyone else coming back here. When I left, he still didn’t say anything, but he smiled.”
“Miriam,” said Mom, kissing her, “that was a good idea. You made someone just as happy as Benjamin and Johnny and Katie did. In fact, now we have a problem.”
“What?” asked the children.
“I don’t think I can decide which idea was best. They were all wonderful.”

I remember so well when I wanted to go to normal school to prepare myself to be a schoolteacher. We were poor people. Father said, “We really need you here on the farm, and I can’t possibly pay for your schooling. But if you can borrow the money, you may go, and we’ll try to get along.”
I went down to the bank, met with the manager, and told him why I had come. I wanted to borrow money to go to normal school. He said, “Oh, are you so-and-so Tanner’s boy?”
I said, “No, I’m not. I’m N. W. Tanner’s boy.”
“N. W. Tanner’s boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How much money would you need?” I told him.
He said, “When can you start paying it back?”
I said, “As soon as I start teaching and receive my wages.”
He said, “If you’re N. W. Tanner’s boy, you may have the money and pay it back as you said you would.”
I thought then what a tremendous thing it was for me to be the son of a man whose name was such that the bank manager would let me have the money with no security other than that name. I suppose he knew dad would pay it back if I didn’t, though he didn’t sign the note with me. I made up my mind then that I would so live that if my family needed my assistance my name would not be a deterrent to them in any way, but I hoped it would be helpful.

Jessica P. and Nory A., two young women who live on Santa Cruz, know this personally. They are both converts and have both seen the difference keeping the commandments makes. There aren’t very many members in the Galápagos Islands (only 125 members in their branch out of around 25,000 people on their island). It can be difficult to stay on the strait and narrow path (see 1 Nephi 8:20; 2 Nephi 4:33; 31:17–19; Alma 7:19) with temptations such as alcohol and drugs all around.
Nory has seen the challenges in her own family. A year after her family was baptized, they were sealed in the Guayaquil Ecuador Temple. Not long after, however, several members of her family fell away. For a time she and her mom were the only ones who participated in church. How did she stay strong?
“Family home evening,” she says. “For a while, just my mom and I would hold it. Later my older brother and my dad started coming. And every time we study the gospel, my dad says, ‘This is for me.’ Now he is getting stronger and my brother too.”
Jessica has faced a different struggle. “Being the only member of the Church in my family is difficult,” she explains. Some of her family members don’t like the fact that she attends church. In fact, it can lead to arguments.
“Sometimes you wish that your parents, your family, were members of the Church,” she says, “so you could share things with them. That’s hard.
“When you have problems, you can’t go looking in the street or looking to alcohol because they won’t help at all. Instead I come to church, where I have good friends.
“They help me a lot. If I’m feeling down, there’s always Nory or other young women. When I come to church, I feel alive. I feel relief from all the problems in my life.”
Jessica and Nory have found joy in living the gospel. Or rather, they have found joy because they live the gospel.
The commandments, like the paths around Los Gemelos, don’t restrict us. They provide the guidance necessary to make us perfect through the Atonement of the Savior (see D&C 82:8–9). When we choose to keep the commandments, we are choosing to show love and devotion to God. We are choosing to be worthy of the companionship of the Holy Ghost. We are choosing to be worthy to receive inspiration, to be able to serve, to be able to enter the temple, and to honor the priesthood.
Most important, we are choosing to work toward eternal life in the celestial kingdom with our Father in Heaven. That is the pathway of peace and happiness.

Some years ago following a talk I gave about the concept of faith, I was approached by an older gentleman. I’ll try to paraphrase his observation:

You know, young man, I’ve lived a long time, and I’ve learned that there are only so many things that you can get done with the time that you have. You have to choose carefully where you are going to put your energies. You’ve said some nice things tonight about using faith to accomplish worthwhile goals, like learning to play the piano. But you didn’t talk at all about faith in Christ.

I hope I never forget how stunned I felt. I think of the Pharisees’ meticulous care in observing the law while all along failing to recognize the Christ. The whole aim of tradition, of religious culture, is to point our souls to Christ. In our parenting, if we teach only morals, or church activity, or cultural tradition, we will have fallen terribly short of what must be our goal—to teach our children faith in Christ, that they will turn to him for salvation. For it is he, after all, not us, that will write his law in their hearts.

“Graduation—the lights on the stage dimmed; the time that we had all looked forward to was finally here. The ceremony had been grand; all the pomp and circumstance to fit the occasion had been unfurled. Boy, I sure hoped my rubber nose wouldn’t fall off.” Tim Holst was graduating magna cum laude from the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus clown school. He had even been offered a job with the circus, the Greatest Show on Earth.
“How did all this happen?” he wondered. Tim had been a student at Utah State University studying to get a teaching degree so that he could teach seminary. During the summers he would work in Yellowstone Park in a little summer theater company called the Playmill Theater. Tim was playing, directing, and acting as master of ceremonies for the show when he was spotted by one of the circus promoters for Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus. The promoter liked Tim, thought he was funny, and invited him to go to the circus clown school in Florida.
Now Tim had completed the eight-week course in clowning. He had learned the fundamentals of juggling, clowning, acrobatics, gymnastics, make-up, and costuming. The offer of a one-year contract to clown for the circus was appealing. Should he accept? Tim decided not to. He was very close to graduation from college, and he felt that he should finish his schooling. He left Florida after graduating from the clown school and drove back to Utah State University to begin his winter quarter classes.
“Still, I just didn’t feel right,” Tim said. “I felt as though I should get right back to Florida and accept the offer to be a clown for the circus. After much prayer and consideration, and after talking with my parents back in Illinois, I decided to head back to Florida and begin rehearsal as a clown for the upcoming circus season. As I was settling into my new room, there came a knock on my door. I opened the door, and there stood a member of my graduating class, another Tim—Tim Torkildson. He had observed what he thought was something special about me, and Tork (that was his circus nickname) wanted to know about the Church.”
Tork said, “Tim’s life-style was different from anybody else’s, and I wanted to know more about him.”
Tim introduced his friend to the Church, and soon Tork was taking the missionary lessons. After about six weeks Tim baptized Tork in Florida, just a few days before they left on their circus tour of some forty-five cities throughout the United States and Canada. Tim now knew why he had needed to return to Florida. He was to be a “missionary clown.”