Gospel Story Finder

The true church of Jesus Christ must have a living prophet. Ricardo Perez was convinced of that. But where was such a church?
His study of the Bible had led him to leave the church of his forefathers, in spite of what his family and friends might think. To them, this seemed like folly in the Guatemala of 1954. But Ricardo felt he could no longer practice some of the things he had formerly been taught. So in leaving the church of his youth, he felt that he had left error behind. He wanted to find the church God approved. He wanted to know the truth.
He investigated several evangelistic churches, but “I did not find a place to practice religion as the ancient Apostles taught,” he recalls. Study of the Bible had convinced him the true church would have certain unmistakable features—a living prophet, Apostles, baptism by immersion, and proper administration of the sacrament to members, for example.
Trying to find a place to buy a new Bible finally led him to the church he sought. “I often see some young men—North Americans—around here. They sell Bibles,” one of the employees in Ricardo’s tailor shop told him. At that moment, two Latter-day Saint missionaries passed by the door of the shop. “There they go!” the man said.
No, the missionaries explained, they did not sell books; they preached the gospel, teaching from a book called the Book of Mormon, as well as the Bible. They would leave a Book of Mormon with him for one week if he would read it.
“Since I was desirous of learning something more about the things of God, I started reading it immediately. As soon as I began, I felt the Spirit very strongly in the book. I knew it was of God,” Brother Perez reflects. “I reached a point where I would sometimes dream of events in the Book of Mormon before I had read them. Then when I would read the next day, it would be what I had already dreamed.”
When Ricardo Perez attended Church meetings with the missionaries, he found the Church offered all the things he had become convinced the true church must have—and more. He gratefully shared what he had learned with his family, and his children also believed.

My mom and I seemed to drift apart after I joined the Church. She didn’t accept my new beliefs and resented me for leaving the church she had raised me in. I had prayed about what to do to help us become close again.
One Sunday, someone spoke about the need to let the people we love know how much they mean to us. The speaker suggested that we not only express it verbally, but also seal it with a hug and a kiss. I couldn’t remember my family ever hugging, kissing, or expressing our love for one another. Everyone just sort of assumed they were loved and hoped they were right.
That day, I decided I would give it a try. It wasn’t easy. In fact, it was a bit scary. But I did it. I told my mom how much I loved her, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and hugged her. It was as though the balm of Gilead had somehow healed the cankering that was coming between us.
That act, inspired by prayer, seems to have had an effect on the entire family. Now when any relatives leave our home, they do so with a hug and a kiss. It gets quite interesting when a lot of family members are present, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

I know exactly how you feel. A few months ago, my boyfriend and I did something wrong. After that, it seemed as if in every fireside the speaker was talking just to me. I felt like dirt. I knew I needed to tell my bishop, but I just couldn’t.
I tried to tell myself that if I just forgot about it and never did it again, the Lord would forget too. Last week I had an interview with my bishop to get my patriarchal blessing. I knew I had to tell him. I prayed before I went in. Then with a prayer in my heart, I took a deep breath and told him. Now I feel so much better! It was so hard to do. But I thank the Lord for giving me the courage to confess. Now I can complete my repentance, and I won’t have to carry that burden for the rest of my life.
Name withheld

As soon as I heard this year’s theme was “Ask of God,” I thought there was no way I would receive an answer. I believed I was completely hopeless, so why even waste my time? However a small voice of hope whispered to me, saying, maybe this is it. This could be my chance to seek and receive the answers I’ve been looking for. So with a bit of hope built up inside of me I began to ask of God.
I asked Him how I could be happy even with the extremely unfortunate circumstances of my life, and why would anyone even expect me to be happy?
It took me a few months before I realized I had received my answer, but it wasn’t exactly the answer I had been expecting when I first started to pray about it.
I was waiting for my prayers to be answered by having my life somehow magically become possible to live happily, but instead something better happened. A seed of faith in the gospel had been planted within my heart.
As that seed grew and my testimony became stronger, I felt peace, I felt hope, I felt my Savior’s love. And that’s when I received my answer.
I realized that “the joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.”1
Although the problems and circumstances in my life didn’t change, the focus of my life did.
I began to start being involved in the Church and focusing my life on the gospel again. And that’s when I felt and still feel true happiness, even with my struggles.
Getting through each day has never been easier now that I rely on God and invite the Spirit to be with me. I didn’t just get an answer to my prayers; I now have a strong testimony. I now have day-to-day support, I now see God’s love more than ever, and above all I get to experience pure joy in life.
Ashley B., Texas, USA

On October 6, in the year 1536, a pitiful figure was led from a dungeon in Vilvorde Castle near Brussels, Belgium. For nearly a year and a half, the man had suffered isolation in a dark, damp cell. Now outside the castle wall, the prisoner was fastened to a post. He had time to utter aloud his final prayer, “Lord! open the king of England’s eyes,” and then he was strangled. Immediately, his body was burned at the stake. Who was this man, and what was the offense for which both political and ecclesiastical authorities had condemned him? His name was William Tyndale, and his crime was to have translated and published the Bible in English.
Tyndale, born in England about the time Columbus sailed to the New World, was educated at Oxford and Cambridge and then became a member of the Catholic clergy. He was fluent in eight languages, including Greek, Hebrew, and Latin. Tyndale was a devoted student of the Bible, and the pervasive ignorance of the scriptures that he observed in both priests and lay people troubled him deeply. In a heated exchange with a cleric who argued against putting scripture in the hands of the common man, Tyndale vowed, “If God spare my life ere many years, I will cause a boy that driveth the plough, shall know more of the Scripture than thou dost!”
He sought the approval of church authorities to prepare a translation of the Bible in English so that all could read and apply the word of God. It was denied—the prevailing view being that direct access to the scriptures by any but the clergy threatened the authority of the church and was tantamount to casting “pearls before swine” (Matthew 7:6).
Tyndale nevertheless undertook the challenging work of translation. In 1524 he traveled to Germany, under an assumed name, where he lived much of the time in hiding, under constant threat of arrest. With the help of committed friends, Tyndale was able to publish English translations of the New Testament and later the Old Testament. The Bibles were smuggled into England, where they were in great demand and much prized by those who could get them. They were shared widely but in secret. The authorities burned all the copies they could find. Nevertheless, within three years of Tyndale’s death, God did indeed open King Henry VIII’s eyes, and with publication of what was called the “Great Bible,” the scriptures in English began to be publicly available. Tyndale’s work became the foundation for almost all future English translations of the Bible, most notably the King James Version.

I close with a parable.
Once a man received as his inheritance two keys. The first key, he was told, would open a vault which he must protect at all cost. The second key was to a safe within the vault which contained a priceless treasure. He was to open this safe and freely use the precious things which were stored therein. He was warned that many would seek to rob him of his inheritance. He was promised that if he used the treasure worthily, it would be replenished and never be diminished, not in all eternity. He would be tested. If he used it to benefit others, his own blessings and joy would increase.
The man went alone to the vault. His first key opened the door. He tried to unlock the treasure with the other key, but he could not, for there were two locks on the safe. His key alone would not open it. No matter how he tried, he could not open it. He was puzzled. He had been given the keys. He knew the treasure was rightfully his. He had obeyed instructions, but he could not open the safe.
In due time, there came a woman into the vault. She, too, held a key. It was noticeably different from the key he held. Her key fit the other lock. It humbled him to learn that he could not obtain his rightful inheritance without her.
They made a covenant that together they would open the treasure and, as instructed, he would watch over the vault and protect it; she would watch over the treasure. She was not concerned that, as guardian of the vault, he held two keys, for his full purpose was to see that she was safe as she watched over that which was most precious to them both. Together they opened the safe and partook of their inheritance. They rejoiced, for, as promised, it replenished itself.
With great joy they found that they could pass the treasure on to their children; each could receive a full measure, undiminished to the last generation.
Perhaps some few of their posterity would not find a companion who possessed the complementary key, or one worthy and willing to keep the covenants relating to the treasure. Nevertheless, if they kept the commandments, they would not be denied even the smallest blessing.
Because some tempted them to misuse their treasure, they were careful to teach their children about keys and covenants.
There came, in due time, among their posterity some few who were deceived or jealous or selfish because one was given two keys and another only one. “Why,” the selfish ones reasoned, “cannot the treasure be mine alone to use as I desire?”
Some tried to reshape the key they had been given to resemble the other key. Perhaps, they thought, it would then fit both locks. And so it was that the safe was closed to them. Their reshaped keys were useless, and their inheritance was lost.
Those who received the treasure with gratitude and obeyed the laws concerning it knew joy without bounds through time and all eternity.

A Relief Society presidency in Pleasant Grove, Utah, met with their bishop to discuss ward goals before planning Relief Society classes. Based on those goals, Relief Society leaders planned a meeting where a sister in the ward shared how she uses Preach My Gospel for family home evening. They also arranged several gardening workshops, including how to store food from one’s garden. Of the presidency’s meetings with the bishop, the Relief Society president says, “We feel our bishop’s love, knowing he is praying to the Lord in our behalf.”

For many weeks I felt clean and happy. I loved talking about my baptism and how my heart seemed to be growing. My family and Primary teacher reminded me often that the Holy Ghost would help me know what was right and wrong.
A few days ago I had to take a test in school, and I was really nervous. I kept thinking how easy it would be to copy from the girl sitting next to me. I knew that cheating was wrong, but I was desperate to get a good score. Then I remembered that the Holy Ghost would help me. I said a prayer in my heart asking for strength to make the right choice.
The rest of the day, I felt as happy as I had at my baptism. After school, I ran to our car and gave Mom a hug. “I got 100 percent on my test!” I exclaimed.
“That’s great!” Mom said.
“And I didn’t even cheat.”
Mom frowned. “You wanted to cheat?”
“Well, I thought about it,” I admitted. “But I had a feeling inside that it was wrong. So I prayed for help and just tried my best.”
Mom smiled. “I’m glad you listened to that feeling.”
I’m glad too. Really glad. I always want to be worthy of my companion—the Holy Ghost.

During the weeks before Christmas, my companion and I had been teaching a man of the Jewish faith. Allen already knew a little about the Church. He told us that he wasn’t looking to get baptized; he just wanted to see what “the Mormons are all about.”
In four discussions we had taught him about the Savior, the Restoration, the Book of Mormon, the plan of salvation, plus other material to help him come to a knowledge of Christ. He had finished reading the Book of Mormon and a little more than half of the Doctrine and Covenants. We had fasted with him on Christmas Eve, hoping he would come to a knowledge of Christ and be baptized.
Christmas afternoon came with an unexpected knock on the apartment door. It was Allen. He was beaming with excitement. He had come to tell us that he could testify of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and Jesus Christ as the Savior of the world. Every expression on his face showed the joy and happiness he was experiencing. He was no longer a man looking for a knowledge of Christ, but one desiring to become a member of the Church.
It was through the Book of Mormon and the Holy Ghost that Allen was able to come to a knowledge of Christ. I was transferred out of the area before Allen was baptized, but being able to see his conversion and be a part of it truly was the best Christmas present ever.
Elder Christopher Albright is serving full time in the North Carolina Charlotte Mission.

“No school today!” came the magic words from the radio.
Remembering last night’s house-shaking blizzard, Dave thought that a holiday from school was a beautiful bonus.
“I wish Dad weren’t out of town,” said Mother, briskly beating pancake batter. “Something always happens when he’s gone.”
A sudden gust of wind rattled the windows. Dave peered out. He could hardly tell where the road was. It looked like a white river with waves whipped up by the wind.
“Being snowed in isn’t so bad,” he said happily. “Nothing can get through, not even a school bus.”
During breakfast, the radio broadcast several weather-related stories: A forty-mile-an-hour wind had roared all night, blowing three feet of snow into massive drifts. Semitrailers had jackknifed, and cars and buses had slid into ditches. Some snow-plows were still stuck on major highways. “The worst of the storm is over,” the announcer concluded, “but some areas might not be plowed out until tomorrow.”
The phone rang. It was Dave’s best friend, Tim. “Tough about school, huh? Think we can handle it?”
“Maybe if we get together for moral support,” Dave replied.
“Glad to help a buddy out,” Tim said cheerfully. “Be right over.”
Tim lived only two blocks away, but by the time he got to Dave’s house, he was covered with snow. “The Abominable Snowman himself!” he laughed.
“I know a perfect place to build a snow cave-fort,” Dave suggested, pulling on his ski jacket, snow bib, boots, hat, and mittens. He felt as if he was outfitting for a polar expedition.
“Snow’s sticky enough,” agreed Tim.
“Build it where I can see you from the house,” Mother warned. “And be careful.”
“Sure,” the boys said in unison.
Outside, the wind punched them in the face, and snowflakes as thick as feathers swirled around them. Sinking deep into the drifts, they plodded toward the garage, where Dave pointed to a high snowbank.
“It is perfect!” Tim said. The giant snowbank blocked the wind and had plenty of raw material for their cave-fort. They set to work tunneling into the base of the big drift, shoveling out the snow and packing the sides as they dug.
Two houses away their friends Jeff and Brian were piling up snowballs.
“We just have to get our fort done before they start a snowball fight!” Tim exclaimed. They worked all morning, then stopped only for lunch and to change their wet mittens.
“How’s your fort coming along?” Mother asked, dishing up tomato soup and handing them grilled cheese sandwiches.
“It’s the best ever,” bragged Tim. “It’s the biggest and highest—”
“And strongest, I hope,” Mother put in, looking worried.
“We’ll find out in the snowball showdown!” replied Tim, gulping down his soup.
When they went out again, they saw that Jeff and Brian had started to build a fort too. Dave wondered how much ammunition they had stockpiled.
Dave and Tim’s fort was shaping up. They widened the entrance, enlarged the inside, and sloshed water onto the sides to ice them firm. Finally, pushing out a big snow chunk, Dave grunted, “We’re just about done.”
“If you clear the doorway,” said Tim, “I can finish up inside.”
Dave crawled out and started shoveling out the entrance. He looked at the fort looming high above him. It seemed strangely quiet. The wind had died to a whisper. The snow had stopped. Nothing moved. It was like a movie that had stopped, frozen in one frame. He shivered.
Then, without a sound, the snow roof slowly slid inward, collapsing the fort and burying Tim. This can’t be happening! Dave agonized, and he flew at the crumpled white mound with his shovel, flailing away furiously. “Tim! Tim!” he yelled. But there was no sound. “Cave-in!” he shouted to Jeff and Brian, and they came running with shovels. “Tim’s under there!”
Dave’s mother came running out of the house. “I called an ambulance, but nothing can get through. The roads are still blocked!” She frantically started scooping at the snow pile with her bare hands.
Dave’s heart sank. “Please, God,” he murmured desperately, “help Tim.” Shoveling furiously again, he shouted, “Hang on, Tim! We’ll get you out!” Finally, his breath coming in great gasps, Dave stopped shoveling. Looking at the huge pile of snow and at the very little that they had uncovered, a wave of despair swept over him.
Suddenly a story flashed through his mind, one that he’d read long ago. It was about an avalanche, a boy who was buried, and his friend who kept poking a broom handle deep into the drifts until he found him.
Dave tore off his mittens. He wanted to feel with his fingertips. Plunging his arm deep into the snow, he jabbed down in different places, calling, “Tim! We’re coming, Tim!” over and over. Tim had to know that help was on the way, so that he could hold out longer.
I must hurry, Dave told himself. There’s so much snow to cover. Am I reaching deep enough? Again and again he thrust his arms into the snow—reaching, reaching.
Suddenly he thought that he felt something way down deep. Was he imagining it? His arm pushed through the snow again. There was something there! “Dig here!” he yelled.
The diggers scooped out snow with their shovels and then with their hands until they had uncovered Tim’s arm, hanging limp. Quickly they uncovered Tim’s head. His face was ashen, but he opened his eyes and mumbled something. In just minutes he was freed, carried into the house, stripped of his wet clothes, and wrapped in blankets.
It wasn’t until then that Dave was conscious of his own red, throbbing hands. He soaked them in tepid water, but they hurt for a long time afterward. A small price to pay, he thought.
Meanwhile, everything around him was a blur … people coming, Tim’s mother talking to the doctor on the phone: “He just wants to sleep,” she was saying, her voice shaky. Dave’s thoughts focused again when she told him, “The doctor wants us to question Tim. If he makes sense, he’s probably all right.”
Dave went with her into Tim’s bedroom. Tim’s face was still pale, but he was breathing steadily. His eyes were closed. “Tim?” Dave asked softly.
Tim opened his eyes. “Thanks,” he said, trying to smile. “You saved my life.” His eyes closed again.
Dave swallowed hard. “Tim, did you hear me calling your name?”
Tim shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Not even the yelling?” asked Dave.
Tim’s voice was low. “I just kept thinking, ‘Don’t panic. It uses up more oxygen.’” Then he fell asleep.
He makes sense, all right, Dave thought, relieved.
Tim’s mother turned to Dave. “You’re a hero,” she said, her voice soft with tears.
But Dave knew that he couldn’t take all the credit. It was a miracle. It had to be. Why else would he have remembered that long-ago story? Why else was he able to find Tim in time? God was looking out for us, Dave thought. Miracles are never a one-man show.

When farmers’ crops fail, it may mean difficult times, but for 47 members of the Church in Mexico a poor harvest also blocked their dreams of going to the Los Angeles Temple. When the seminary students from the La Canada First and Second Wards (La Crescenta California Stake) found out about the postponed trip, they sold cheese, sponsored movies, put on dinners, took inventories for department stores, and held their own fair to raise $3,500 to help the Mexican Saints.

The eight families from Mexico and two bus drivers then rode three days after waiting weeks for visas. Most of the men, farmers and laborers, had seen their area’s crops fail and had canceled their plans to visit the temple this year. The La Canada young people had decided there could be no more worthwhile project than helping the Mexican Saints go to the temple.

The California Saints were ready with a large “Bienvenidos” (welcome) sign when the group arrived, and they greeted their guests with many abrazos (hugs). Everyone moved from the parking lot to the chapel and sang, “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet” and “Come, Come Ye Saints” in both Spanish and English. The Mexican members from Tezontepec and Conejos were welcomed by La Crescenta California Stake President Don L. Rogers and introduced to their host families.

The next day began with a chapel service after which the Mexican Saints went through a Spanish-speaking endowment session. In the afternoon they attended a sealing session. While the adults were in the temple, six of the young people who had traveled with the group and several La Canada seminary students performed baptisms for the dead. Another group of seminary youth served as baby-sitters in the nursery for the day.

After a day at the temple, the La Canada church members held a fiesta in honor of their guests. The cultural hall was decorated in red, green, and white, Mexico’s national colors, and the visitors were served some of their own national specialties—enchiladas, beans, rice, hot chiles, and fruit salad. The Mexican Saints were all introduced, and an informal program was staged by the hosting wards.

The next day was Saturday, and the La Canada youths were excited to show their guests some Southern California sights. The Mexican children especially loved the Mickey Mouse Parade at Disneyland.

The following day Mexican Branch President Tomás Gracia spoke at stake conference, expressing his love for those who had given so much to make the trip possible for his branch members. A fireside that evening gave everyone the opportunity to get better acquainted. The Saints from Mexico sang and answered questions as well as shared testimonies.

The next morning was a sad farewell as the visitors sang to their new American friends. The busload of strengthened Saints left with renewed determination to share their experiences in Mexico. For the seminary students of the La Canada wards it was hard to say goodbye, but knowing that the months of hard work had gone to help enrich and uplift others made the experience one of deep, quiet happiness.

My fondest childhood memories are of my family piling into our big gold van and fleeing the flat deserts of Texas toward the mountains and rivers of the West. As we climbed in elevation, my father, a geologist, would point out the window at rock formations and explain how the layers were deposited just so and how the rocks contained a record of past processes that quietly shaped the landscapes in front of my eyes. My mother would take pictures of wildflowers, collect pine cones, and revel in the turning of the seasons.
Their love for nature was contagious, and I fell in love with the world of living things too.
Years later, while serving my mission among the mountains and forests of Alaska, I developed an even deeper respect for the connections between God’s human and nonhuman creations and decided to devote my life to the conservation and study of nature.
Throughout my studies, I’ve been encouraged by principles of earth stewardship taught by prophets, apostles, and other Church leaders. For example:
At the beginning of this dispensation, the Lord told Joseph Smith that He wanted the Saints to be “accountable, as [stewards] over earthly blessings, which I have made and prepared for my creatures” (Doctrine and Covenants 104:13).
President Russell M. Nelson has taught: “As beneficiaries of the divine Creation, what shall we do? We should care for the earth, be wise stewards over it, and preserve it for future generations.”1
In 2019, Sister Sharon Eubank, First Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency and president of Latter-day Saint Charities, discussed the connection between God’s children and the earth by stating: “Some people will say, ‘Isn’t there something more important to do? Shouldn’t we be caring for the poor versus caring for the earth?’ And my question is, are they not linked so inextricably that we can’t do one without caring for the other?”2
And finally, President M. Russell Ballard, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, spoke these words directly to our generation in March 2020: “I see … your commitment to a more sustainable future for all of God’s children and creatures and the earth. Whether it is environmental, economic, or social, I would hope you will continue to find creative solutions to help protect the future for all of God’s children in our world. We should do whatever we can to protect and preserve the earth, to make life better for those who will live here. We have a divine stewardship, as noted in Doctrine and Covenants 59:16–20.”3
These teachings and many others4 highlight our responsibility to care for God’s creations, both today and for future generations. So how can we as young adult Latter-day Saints respond to these prophetic teachings more fully today? Here are a few ideas to consider.
In the past few decades, nations across the world have been experiencing increases in pollution, deforestation, drought, species extinction, biodiversity loss, and other challenges that are intensifying.5 We need to always keep in mind that God created this earth for us, His children, and it’s our responsibility to care for and protect it (see 1 Nephi 17:36; Doctrine and Covenants 59:20; 103:13).
We can start by learning more about these and other environmental problems that may exist in our communities and countries. As Latter-day Saints, we’re taught to be informed about “things both in heaven and in the earth, and under the earth; … things which are at home, things which are abroad; the wars and the perplexities of the nations, and the judgments which are on the land; and a knowledge also of countries and of kingdoms” (Doctrine and Covenants 88:79). Surely the Lord wants us to care about the issues that affect His creations—both this earth and its inhabitants.
Learning about the role we play in our local ecological communities can also help us discover how our individual actions affect the environment. In our increasingly connected world, people’s individual actions on one continent are now collectively contributing to the environmental effects felt by God’s children in other parts of the world (for example, things like rising sea levels, food shortages, plastic pollution, and invasive species). This relationship with our global neighbors provides a whole new meaning to the commandment to “love [our] neighbour as [ourselves]” (Matthew 22:39).
It’s good to learn about environmental problems, and even better to do something about them. Here are a few practical steps you can take:
Go outside and learn about the plants, animals, and ecosystems around you. Knowledge leads to understanding and respect; use field guides, online resources, or apps to get to know God’s creations more personally.
Choose to walk, skate, cycle, carpool, or use public transportation where available. You can enjoy the outdoors a little bit more while at the same time reducing pollution.
Buy local. This has the double benefit of directly supporting your community and cutting carbon emissions (products grown or made locally don’t need to travel as far).
Plant a garden. There are few food sources more sustainable or personally fulfilling than growing your own!6 As a young adult, you might have limited space, so start small by growing an herb garden or consider joining a community garden.
Reduce, reuse, recycle. Consume less, carry reusable grocery bags and water bottles, and check what materials are recyclable in your city.
Use less water and energy. Things like taking shorter showers, turning off lights, and unplugging appliances when not in use can all add up.
Get involved. You could consider volunteering or supporting reputable environmental groups.
Vote. Take the time to be educated, and vote the way you feel will best affect environmental issues and policies.
Be “anxiously engaged in a good cause” (see Doctrine and Covenants 58:26–29). We’ve been taught the principles—now it’s time to act on them.
You don’t have to feel overwhelmed by this list: to start, choose just one item and put energy behind it. Doing something is better than nothing. In doing these simple acts of environmental service, you may feel that your contribution doesn’t matter, that it won’t make any difference against the magnitude of the world’s ecological issues, but remember that “by small and simple things are great things brought to pass” (Alma 37:6).
In spiritual matters, we don’t stop choosing the right just because the world is growing more wicked! We know that our small acts of kind service won’t stop all the evil in the world, but we continue to perform them anyway, blessing lives in the process. We can have a similar attitude toward the earth and her inhabitants.
Throughout my life, I’ve had the privilege to travel and conduct research in many different countries and landscapes. Despite the drastic differences in species, climate, and human culture that exist on our planet, there is one unifying principle among each of these ecosystems: they are all connected and beautifully alive.
When Christ returns to this earth—a world He created to sustain us physically and spiritually, and one that He commanded us to preserve—I, for one, hope to have done my best to take care of His beautiful creation.

I can remember one day at recess we had the whole second grade playing a lively game of Red Rover. The boy I liked more than any other boy in the whole class was it. He stood surveying the situation for a moment, and then he called, “Red Rover, Red Rover, send Gay on over.” I took off running as fast as I could. I had to try to make it over to the other side without his catching me. I ran faster than I have ever run before; I guess I learned at an early age to play hard-to-get. This boy came really close, but I ran from one side of the field to the other without being tagged. Success! Unfortunately, I was running too quickly to stop, and I ran right into a barbed-wire fence. It is important that in our lives we do our best and work our hardest to achieve our goals, but we must be certain that the outcome leads us to where we want to be. Our goals must be directed to the future, to happiness, and to perfection. “Happy is that people, whose God is the Lord” (Psalm 144:15).

Several years ago, my aunt and uncle’s grandson died at eight-and-a-half months old. The situation surrounding his death caused feelings of unimaginable loss, intense anger, and paralyzing pain. My aunt and uncle hadn’t been sealed in the temple nor had the baby’s parents. I wondered how they would get through this experience without the comfort and blessing of knowing he was sealed to their family for eternity. But because my aunt had established personal habits of prayer, scripture study, and temple attendance, she was prepared to declare, “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.”[9]

The following year, many wonderful things occurred. Their daughter found a worthy and loving man who took her to the temple. My uncle was the proxy for his grandson as this baby was sealed to his family. In addition, my aunt, uncle, and their children were sealed as an eternal family. In the temple, my aunt learned that when death takes us from this world, it’s our covenants that bring us back together. They are now bound together eternally from child to parent to grandparent. The difficulty of losing this child was replaced by the joy and promise of eternity together.

Upon reflecting on her experiences, my aunt said, “I am a different person because of what I’ve been through, and I never want to forget it. It’s not what we go through in life that matters. It’s who we turn to for understanding, peace, and comfort, and allowing the Savior to make us better than we are.”

Illustration by J. Beth Jepson
When I was 14, my physics teacher saw my talent in math and entered me in the Brazilian Mathematics Olympiad. There were three phases. The first and the second would be held on a Saturday. I was classified for the third phase and saw that it would be held on two days, Saturday and Sunday.
I then told my teacher and the director of the Olympiad that I would not take a test on Sunday because it is the Lord’s day. The director asked me to talk to my Church leaders so that I could be freed to take the test on Sunday, for if I did not take it, I would be disqualified. I said that I could forgo everything but not God.
I did not become sad, because I had the hope that God honors those who honor Him. I remembered Matthew 6:33: “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.”
Some weeks later we contacted the secretary of the Olympiad, who stated that I could not take the test any other day and that I would be disqualified. After much conversing, he suggested that I send him an email explaining my situation. After sending the email, I prayed to Heavenly Father and said that I would do His will.
The following night, I received an email from the coordinator stating that I could take the Sunday test on Monday at the most convenient time for me, and he even offered to administer the test in my own city so that I would not miss the morning class at school.
After receiving this good news, I prayed to thank the Lord because He had helped me. My parents went to the temple to express thanks.
When the test results came out, I received the gold medal. The Lord honors those who honor Him.

Christmas is a giving time of year for the young people of the Mt. Pleasant Second Ward, Mt. Pleasant Utah Stake. The youth were involved in service projects that helped emphasize the true spirit of giving.
With the bishop’s approval, the Young Men and Young Women held several fund raisers to buy a member of their ward a new wheelchair. The gift was presented to Sister Sadie Barney during the annual ward Christmas party.

Have you ever stood on a high cliff with your toes on its edge and your back to the abyss below? In rappelling, even though you are securely connected to a system of strong ropes and equipment that can deliver you to safety, standing on the edge is still heart-racing. Stepping backward off the cliff and swinging into thin air requires trust in an anchor secured to an immovable object. It demands trust in the person who will apply tension to the rope as you descend. And although the equipment provides you with some ability to control your descent, you must have confidence that your partner will not allow you to fall.
I vividly remember rappelling with a group of young women. I was first in the group to go. As I stepped backwards off the cliff, I began to fall without control. Gratefully, the rope jerked and my too-rapid descent was stopped. As I dangled halfway down the jagged rock face, I prayed fervently for whomever or whatever was keeping me from dropping onto the rocks.
Later, I learned that the anchor bolt had not been securely set, and as I stepped off the edge, the person belaying me was jerked on his back and pulled towards the edge of the cliff. Somehow, he wedged his feet against some rocks. Stabilized in that position, he was able to laboriously lower me, hand over hand, with the rope. Although I couldn’t see him, I knew he was working with all his strength to save me. Another friend was at the bottom of the cliff, prepared to catch me if the rope ceased to hold. As I came within reach, he caught my harness and lowered me to the ground.

Once there was a bishop who met with three men: Brother A, Brother B, and Brother C. Several months before, he had given them each a seed. He had asked them to plant it and tend it to see who could grow the best plant. The winner would receive an award. Today was the day to see their plants.

Brother A and Brother B showed him their thriving, flowering plants. Brother C showed him a pot full of dirt and nothing else, saying he couldn’t get it to grow. The bishop told Brother A and Brother B that he was disappointed in them. He told Brother C that he had won and would receive an important assignment. Why did the bishop react this way?

A Fictional Story of a Riddle Seed: He had given them seeds that had been baked so that they were dead and wouldn’t grow. It was a test of their honesty.

As a teacher, I am always looking for effective ways to engage my students in the lesson. I thought I was making good use of the chalkboard or whiteboard until I saw the board in the classroom next door. There, neatly displayed in the center, was a simple statement of doctrine, a picture, and two questions along with instructions for the students to answer the questions. As the class members came in, I watched as they looked in their scriptures for answers to the two questions. They even discussed the doctrine with each other. And all this activity was happening before the start of class!
I was impressed. Here was a teacher using a simple tool to engage his students in learning during a time that was normally wasted. He still greeted his students and gathered them for an opening prayer, but when the lesson began, the Spirit of the Lord had already touched the hearts of many of the students. They were prepared for a wonderful experience in the scriptures.

Politicians began worrying over this new phenomenon. Enemies were organizing, and the Prophet’s life was becoming endangered. After months of imprisonment in the dark, damp dungeon known as Liberty Jail, a discouraged Joseph cried out to the Lord:

O God, where art thou? And where is the pavilion that covereth thy hiding place?
How long shall thy hand be stayed, and thine eye, . . . behold from the eternal heavens the wrongs of thy people and of thy servants, . . .
Yea, O Lord, how long shall they suffer these wrongs and unlawful oppressions, before thine heart shall be softened toward them. [D&C 121:1–3]

Then a loving, answering Savior promised Joseph:

The ends of the earth shall inquire after thy name, and fools shall have thee in derision, and hell shall rage against thee;
While the pure in heart, and the wise, and the noble, and the virtuous, shall seek counsel, and authority, and blessings constantly from under thy hand.
And thy people shall never be turned against thee by the testimony of traitors.
. . . Thou shalt be had in honor; . . . and thy voice shall be more terrible in the midst of thine enemies than the fierce lion, because of thy righteousness; and thy God shall stand by thee forever and ever. [D&C 122:1–4]