Gospel Story Finder

A little over a year ago a young woman convert to the Church was called to serve a mission in her homeland, one of the countries of the Far East. Her folks, who were Buddhists, repeatedly insisted that she forsake her mission and her religion and return home. Their demands were so insistent that the mission president last month authorized her to go back and see her family. There she was met by her family, the entire clan, who used every possible means to persuade her to forsake her newly found religion and return to the religion of her forebears. She replied quietly but firmly that she could not deny her faith, that she must heed the call of the Lord rather than follow the counsel of men, even the counsel of her father.

The family, presided over by her uncle, denounced her and expelled her and told her that she could no longer associate with any of them. Then, after further deliberation, the family leaders determined that a mark should be put upon her to remind her of her infidelity to her traditional religion. While the men of the family held her, her father’s older brother branded her with three burns in the arm. He told her that this would be a sign to the gods that she had forsaken Buddhism.

With ugly and painful wounds, with a broken heart but a resolute spirit, she returned to her mission. The scars in her flesh will remain to her a sign not of the forsaking of her father’s religion but of her unconquerable faith in the gospel of Jesus Christ. Her faith so touched the heart of the father who had denounced her that he came to the mission home and put his arms around her and kissed her and told her that they would never desert her, and there was awakened in him also something of an understanding, faint but real, of the true meaning of the gospel of the Lord.

In His love for us, God has decreed that any worthy man, regardless of wealth, education, color, cultural background, or language may hold His priesthood. Thus, any properly ordained man who is clean in hand, heart, and mind can connect with the unlimited power of the priesthood. I learned this well as a young missionary years ago in the South Pacific.

My first assignment was to a small island hundreds of miles from headquarters, where no one spoke English, and I was the only white man. I was given a local companion named Feki who was serving a building mission and was a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood.

After eight seasick days and nights on a small, smelly boat, we arrived at Niuatoputapu. I struggled with the heat, the mosquitoes, the strange food, culture, and language, as well as homesickness. One afternoon we heard cries of anguish and saw a family bringing the limp, seemingly lifeless body of their eight-year-old son to us. They wailed out that he had fallen from a mango tree and would not respond to anything. The faithful father and mother put him in my arms and said, “You have the Melchizedek Priesthood; bring him back to us whole and well.”

Though my knowledge of the language was still limited, I understood what they wanted, and I was scared. I wanted to run away, but the expressions of love and faith that shone from the eyes of the parents and brothers and sisters kept me glued to the spot.

I looked expectantly at my companion. He shrugged and said, “I don’t have the proper authority. You and the branch president hold the Melchizedek Priesthood.” Grasping at that straw, I said, “Then this is the duty of the branch president.”

No sooner had I said this than the branch president walked up. He had heard the commotion and came from his garden. He was sweaty and covered with dirt and mud. I explained what had happened and tried to give the young boy to him. He stepped back and said, “I will go and wash and put on clean clothes; then we will bless him and see what God has to say.”

In near panic, I cried, “Can’t you see? He needs help now!”

He calmly replied: “I know he needs a blessing. When I have washed myself and put on clean clothes, I will bring consecrated oil, and we will approach God and see what His will is. I cannot—I will not—approach God with dirty hands and muddy clothes.” He left me holding the boy. I was speechless.

Finally he returned, clean in body and dress and, I sensed, in heart as well. “Now,” he said, “I am clean, so we will approach the throne of God.”

That marvelous Tongan branch president, with clean hands and a pure heart, gave a beautiful and powerful priesthood blessing. I felt more like a witness than a participant. The words of the Psalmist came to my mind: “Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? … He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart” (Psalms 24:3–4). On that tiny island a worthy priesthood holder ascended into the hill of the Lord, and the power of the priesthood came down from heaven and authorized a young boy’s mortal life to continue.

With the fire of faith glowing from his eyes, the branch president told me what to do. Much additional faith and effort was required, but on the third day that little eight-year-old boy, full of life, was reunited with his family.

I hope you understand and feel these truths. This was a tiny island in the midst of a huge ocean—with no electricity, no hospital, no doctors—but none of that mattered. For in addition to great love and faith, there was a branch president who held the Melchizedek Priesthood, who understood the importance of cleanliness of hand and heart and its outward expression in cleanliness of body and dress, who exercised the priesthood in righteousness and purity according to the will of God. That day his individual power in the priesthood was sufficient to connect with the unlimited power of the priesthood over earthly life.

When I look into the heavens at night and contemplate the endless galaxies therein, I am amazed at what a tiny dot our little earth is and how infinitesimally small I am. Yet I do not feel afraid, alone, insignificant, or distant from God. For I have witnessed His priesthood power connecting with clean hands and pure hearts on a tiny island in a vast ocean.

My phone rang one afternoon many years ago. The young man on the other end of the line said frantically that he needed to see me. I told him that I was involved with appointments for the remainder of the day and asked if he could come tomorrow. He stated that he had to see me at once. I told him to come and asked my secretary to change the other appointments. In a few minutes he walked in, a boy with a hunted and haunted look. His hair was long, his appearance miserable. I invited him to sit and to talk openly and frankly. I assured him of my interest in his problem and of my desire to help him.

He unraveled a story distressing and miserable. He was in serious trouble. He had broken the law, he had been unclean, he had blighted his life. Now in his extremity there had come a realization of the terrible plight in which he found himself. He needed help beyond his own strength, and he pleaded for it. I asked him if his father knew of his difficulties. He replied by saying that he could not talk with his father, that his father hated him.

I happened to know his father, and I knew that his father did not hate him. He loved him and mourned and grieved for him, but that father had an uncontrolled temper. Whenever he disciplined his children, he lost control and destroyed both them and himself.

As I looked across the desk at that trembling, broken young man, estranged from a father he considered his enemy, I thought of the great words of revealed truth given through the Prophet Joseph Smith. They set forth in essence the governing spirit of the priesthood, and I believe they apply to the government of our homes.

“No power or influence can or ought to be maintained … , only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned;
“By kindness, and pure knowledge, which shall greatly enlarge the soul without hypocrisy, and without guile” (D&C 121:41–42).
I believe those marvelous and simple words set forth the spirit in which we should stand as parents. Do they mean that we should not exercise appropriate but sensitive discipline, that we should not wisely reprove? Note these further words:
“Reproving betimes with sharpness, [When? While angry or in a fit of temper? No.] when moved upon by the Holy Ghost; [Does the Holy Ghost attend contentious reprovings? No.] and then showing forth afterwards an increase of love toward him whom thou hast reproved, lest he esteem thee to be thine enemy;
“That he may know that thy faithfulness is stronger than the cords of death” (D&C 121:43–44).
This, my brethren and sisters who stand at the head of families, is the key to government in the home directed by the Holy Spirit. I commend those words to every parent and do not hesitate to promise that if you will govern your families in the spirit of those words, which have come from the Lord, you will have cause to rejoice, as will those for whom you are responsible.
These inspired words are the spiritual sinews of the gospel and become the fiber of our faith. God help us to cultivate them in every activity in the Church and in every association in our homes.

When the class came back after lunch, the money jar was gone. The small fruit jar with a slit in the lid had been sitting on Ms. Adams’s desk for the past week. Her students had been dropping in pennies, nickels, dimes, and even a few quarters to be used to help a family in town pay its medical bills.
“I’ll bet Steve took the money,” Mike muttered just loudly enough for the rest of the class to hear him.
“Yeah, he probably did,” Ted agreed.
The class turned to look at Steve sitting near the back of the room. They waited for him to say something, but he just glared at them.
“Stop that right now!” Ms. Adams reprimanded them. “We don’t know who took the jar, and it’s wrong to accuse anyone.”
But everyone thinks I’m the thief, Steve thought.
On the bus ride home, a lot of students were looking at Steve and whispering. As he walked down the aisle to get off at his stop, Mike jeered, “What are you going to do with the money, Steve—spend it on candy and soda pop?”
The other kids all snickered. Steve began to answer Mike but instead quickly got off the bus and ran home.
“What’s wrong, son?” his mother asked as he slammed the door and threw his books in a chair.
Steve told her about the money jar. “Mom, I’m not happy at this school. I wish we’d never moved here. No one likes me. I’ve tried to make friends, but I just don’t fit in.”
“I know it can be hard when you have to leave old friends and make new ones.” Mom put her arm around him. “But you have to keep trying. Remember that most people are really good. You just have to give them a chance. You’ll see.”
“But how can I prove that I didn’t take the money jar?” He slumped into a chair.
“Maybe you can’t prove it,” Mom told him. “But you know that you didn’t steal the money, and that’s what’s really important.”
“I guess so,” Steve sighed, “but no one will ever want to be my friend if I can’t prove I’m not the thief.”
“All I can say now is to just hang in there. I have a hunch something good will happen.” Mom stood up and got her purse. “I haven’t forgotten that I owe you this for doing your chores.” She handed him a dollar bill. “Remember, it will have to last a long time.”
During school the next day, all Steve’s classmates shunned him—or worse. At times the taunting was almost more than he could bear. Still, his teacher did what she could to ease his load, and he thought a few of the kids were at least suspending judgment.
Just before lunch, as Ms. Adams was asking the class to start again with a new jar, Mr. Jones, the principal, walked in. He held out the missing money jar. “A friend stopped by yesterday, and I borrowed your money jar to show him what a good job this class is doing. Then I got busy after he left, and I forgot to bring the jar back. I’m sorry if the delay has caused any problems.”
“We are very glad to get it back,” Ms. Adams said, smiling at Steve. “We thought it had been stolen. I think that we’re learning a valuable lesson in why we believe that people should be considered innocent until they’re proven guilty.” She glanced at Mike, who looked very ashamed of himself.
Mr. Jones left, and Mike immediately raised his hand and apologized to Steve. And at lunchtime the others who had taunted him told him they were sorry for what they’d thought and said. Almost all of them suddenly wanted sincerely to be his friend.
When the class came back after lunch, they had another surprise—there was a dollar bill in the money jar!
“Well, what do you know,” Ms. Adams laughed. “This class is full of surprises. I wonder if we’ll ever find out who put in the dollar bill.”
“I’ll bet it was Mr. Jones,” someone said.
“Yes, you’re probably right,” others agreed out loud.
Steve just smiled. I know who put the dollar bill in the jar. And like Mom said, that’s what’s really important.

Adrian Juchau says, “The competition is so much fun because everyone shows so much support. I was a little afraid to compete, until I actually tried it and found out that people are really having a good time.” In fact, Adrian had so much fun that he decided he would be at every event whether he was participating or not.
“At the Ping-Pong tournament, I was more nervous than the people who were playing,” he admits.
Because the competition takes place over a three-week period, the youth spend a lot of time together, working out, rehearsing, competing, and just “hanging out” waiting for the next event.
“My friends and I wanted to enter the group vocal-music competition. We just couldn’t find a song we liked, so we spent five hours looking together. Finally, we turned on the radio and heard the perfect song. We joked that it must be true inspiration,” says Mia Maid Marlowe Ziegler.
Cheering on your competitors in other wards, spending five hours to find the perfect piece of music, or traveling back and forth to different church buildings for three weeks every year, might seem like a lot of effort, and it is. But in Glendale, most everyone says, “It’s all worth it.”
When the contest finally ends for another year, ribbons and medals are given in every competition, with separate categories for boys and girls. Nearly everyone wins at least one award, and lots of people have several. Yet no one really seems to notice. Everyone has won other things that seem much more important: friendship built on a gospel foundation, love for fellow competitors, and an appreciation for the talents of others.
“I wanted to learn how to play the piano blindfolded, and now I can,” says Adrian, a skill that, by all accounts, is a new one in the stake.
“I would never have learned how to build that cabinet without the competition as a goal,” adds Jared Hall.
Paul Jenkins competed with a good friend. “There aren’t any bad feelings,” he says. “We both knew we’d do well, and we did.”
Those sentiments are echoed by many other participants and can be seen in the way everyone gets along throughout the various competitions. On performing and fine arts night, while one girl is being congratulated on an exemplary piano performance, another is being cheered up by friends who realize she wanted to do better on her vocal solo. Boys good-naturedly tease each other about who is going to win the art competition, but then wish each other good luck. On track-and-field day, several girls laugh about deciding to cross the finish line together in a race so they can all come in first. The list goes on.
And although the competition has been going on for longer than any of these participants can remember, no one really remembers past winners.
Jessica Forsberg, a 16-year-old whose talents shine brightest on track-and-field events, sums it up best. Still breathless from a race, she says, “When you cross that finish line, even if you didn’t win, you feel like you’ve succeeded. Winning isn’t everything; it’s just for fun.”
Competing just for fun? Focusing on people rather than achievements? Using competition as an incentive to excel without hurting people’s feelings? Some might think those things are too good to be true. But if you live in the Glendale Arizona Stake, it’s just how things are done.
Here are some tips, gathered from youth and leaders in Glendale, on holding your own competition:
Start small. The Glendale competition started as a one-afternoon event and has grown over a period of 25 years. Give your stake the time to find out what works and what is comfortable for everyone.
Plan, plan, plan. Try to anticipate every challenge in planning your event. Think of all the things you will need to buy, borrow, or reserve to make your competition a success.
Ask for help. In Glendale, the stake’s Young Adult ward helps with judging and organizational tasks. Ask for help from people outside the stake’s youth program if you think you will need more manpower.
Encourage everyone to participate. The Glendale youth agree that meeting and making new friends is what makes the competition fun. Encourage everyone to come—even if it’s just to watch.
What do the Glendale youth do at their competition? Here’s a complete list:
Volleyball
Bike Racing
Racquetball
Table Tennis
Public Speaking
Chess
Scholastics
Sewing—Quilts
Sewing—Clothes
Sewing—Other
Cooking—Bread and Rolls
Cooking—Desserts
Cooking—Main Dish
Painting/Drawing
Crafts
Woodworking
Track and Field—Various Events
Performing Arts—Vocal Music
Performing Arts—Instrumental Music
Performing Arts—Dance

Jacqueline’s family talked and laughed as they walked through the snow-dusted woods. But behind them, Jacqueline quietly trudged with the speed of a melting snowman.
She had waited all year for her family’s Christmas-tree hunt. She had dreamed about crunching through the frosty forest, sipping hot cocoa, and decorating the perfect tree until every branch sparkled with lights.
But now the frost she had waited for was freezing her toes, and the hot cocoa in her thermos didn’t taste as sweet as usual. She kept thinking about Travis.
Travis was Jacqueline’s best friend. He used to have a house near hers, but this winter his family had to move into a small trailer. The move had been really hard for Travis. There wasn’t even enough room for a Christmas tree in their new place. And Travis loved Christmas trees!
Suddenly Jacqueline stopped. Popping up from the snow in front of her was a tiny pine sapling. Maybe it would fit in Travis’s new home! Jacqueline’s eyes lit up as she reached for it—
“Whoa!” Dad said, putting a mittened hand on her shoulder. “We can’t cut down the little trees. They need to grow for next year.”
As Dad continued through the forest, Jacqueline looked back at the sapling and smiled. She had an idea.
Hours later Jacqueline was walking through the snow again—but this time in her own backyard. From where she stood, she could just glimpse her family’s Christmas tree twinkling through the windows of their house. Their tree hunt was over, but hers wasn’t quite finished.
She walked next to the towering trees that marked the edge of her yard until she saw a pine branch growing low enough to reach. It was just the right size for Travis’s trailer. Dad had told her that taking one small branch wouldn’t hurt the tree too much.
With a grunt Jacqueline broke off the branch. But it didn’t look at all like the Christmas tree twinkling inside. Making Travis’s tree was going to be harder than she thought!
The next day Jacqueline sat in the car and watched the forest rush by in a blur of brown and green.
“Aren’t you excited to give Travis his tree?” Mom asked.
Jacqueline shrugged. She had spent all day trying to make the little tree look just right, but it didn’t end up nearly as nice as she wanted.
They parked in front of Travis’s trailer, and Jacqueline opened the trunk. When she saw the tree, her heart sank. It was lopsided, with needles drooping from its branches. Even the ribbons Jacqueline had tied around it were crumpled. Hot tears stung at the corner of Jacqueline’s eyes. It looked nothing like a real Christmas tree. It would probably just make Travis’s Christmas worse!
The door to the trailer swung open, and Travis bounded down the steps. With a deep breath, Jacqueline held out the tree. “Merry Christmas!” she said shakily.
When Travis saw the tree, a grin spread across his face. “Wow! It’s perfect!” he cried out. “Thank you!”
Jacqueline felt a warm feeling grow inside her, melting away the sad and worried feelings she’d had before. She realized that her gift wasn’t really the tree or the ribbons—so it didn’t matter if those were perfect or not. What she had really given Travis was love. Like Jesus would have done.
And she couldn’t wait to give it again.

I started skiing when I was five years old, and I have always loved the sport. For many years I thought, Wouldn’t it be wonderful to ski for the United States Olympic team! Finally, when I was old enough to go on a mission, I was given the chance to be an alternate for the United States team.
The Olympics! It was something I had worked for and dreamed about for years. Fortunately, I had a very wise bishop, who happened to be my father. When I asked him, “Would the family be just as proud of me if I skied for the United States Olympics team instead of serving a mission?” his answer was, “That’s not for the family to decide; it’s your choice.” He urged me to fast and pray about it. I took his advice, and then I knew which choice was right: I should serve a mission.
I was called to the Western Canadian Mission. For as long as I can remember, I have known that the Church is true, but my mission helped strengthen my testimony even more and helped me appreciate what a testimony really is. My mission changed my life, and I have never regretted making the decision to serve. This experience taught me the importance of always choosing the right, just as you children are taught in Primary today.

I was born in Armenia when it was part of the Soviet Union. My parents taught me and my two siblings to be honest, good, and morally clean, and they did everything to give us a good education. But one of the first things I learned in kindergarten was a philosophy that religion is the opium of the people. And until I was 12 years old, I never knew there was a God.
When I was 12, a terrible earthquake destroyed 90 percent of my hometown, killing more than 50,000 people. I was in school when the noise became louder and louder, and everything around us began to shake. I was pulled into the crowd, trying to escape the building. Amid all the confusion, I suddenly realized I might never see my family again. In that moment, I saw a red knit scarf my mother had made for me hanging in a large hallway to the right of the stairwell. Following an impression, I broke from the crowd and went to retrieve the scarf. In that instant the ground shook for the third and last time, and I witnessed the stairwell collapse with all my friends in its ruins. Upon regaining my senses, I found that the whole school was a huge mass of rubble—with the exception of that tiny area housing me and my red knit scarf.
My entire family of five survived. When my father saw my mom, my eight-month-old sister, my seven-year-old brother, and me sitting in the middle of the street after seven hours of searching for us, the only thing he said was, “Blessed be Thy name, God.” I had lost my home, but for the first time I heard the name of God.
Eleven years passed. I had just graduated from the medical university in Yerevan, the capital of Armenia, where I was a medical resident in ophthalmology. While doing some volunteer work, I met two Latter-day Saint missionaries and we became good friends. They were welcomed in our home just as anyone else, but as soon as they started to talk about God, the whole atmosphere became tense. My parents told me that missionaries “teaching their religion” were not welcome in our home. Personally, I was not interested in religion, but I had not stopped them because there was something different in the eyes of those missionaries—something so innocent, pure, and magnificent. I was very interested in finding the source of the light I noticed in their eyes.
After my parents expressed their disapproval, I avoided meeting with the missionaries and finally arranged to meet them at their church building but just to say I was too busy to proceed with our discussions. Arriving at our appointment one hour early, I entered a room with lots of chairs and about 15 people in it. As I sat quietly, trying not to disturb anyone, I was astonished by the unusual but unbelievably familiar feelings. I felt just like I had when I was five years old and could run home, hug my mom, and tell her all that I had done—certain that she loved me, that she would always be there for me, and that everything was all right. After the long years of wandering in spirit, I knew I was home.
That night for the first time in my life, I knelt and prayed to God. If there was a Heavenly Father, I wanted Him to answer me, to tell me if the things the missionaries taught were true, to show me why I felt so different. It is hard to describe what happened next. I had never before felt the presence of my Heavenly Father so tangibly. I knew He loved me. He knew me. He had always been there. I slept that night knowing with all the strength of my heart that I had found my way home.
I started studying the gospel very carefully. After four months of intense investigation, I decided to be baptized.
My life soon turned upside down. I lost my job and had to end my medical residency. As my interests and values started to change, my old friends started to disappear. But hardest of all for me to accept was that my parents were against my baptism.
I loved my parents dearly. They had given everything they had to provide me with the best education and environment. They were proud of my accomplishments. But when they heard my decision, they were shocked. It was the first time I had wanted to do something they did not agree with, and it was very difficult for all of us. But I knew that God wanted me to be baptized. So even if my family would deny me, I couldn’t deny my Heavenly Father.
My family did not accept the invitation to my baptism, so on my baptism day I went alone to the church. There were many people at the baptism, but I felt my only “family members” were the two missionaries. Then as I turned to go to the baptismal font, I saw my mother and brother. It was the happiest day of my life. The presence of my family was like a beam of sunshine that brought me the hope of a brighter tomorrow.
The following year was full of blessings. In addition to responsibilities in my branch and much volunteer work, I found work in a private hospital and was able to continue my education. My mother came to Church meetings several times after my baptism, and she joined the Church five months later. But most important, I had my Heavenly Father’s love as part of my life, and I had the assurance that I was finally on my way home.

One day when I was in the fifth grade, my teacher called my name. “Sheldon,” she said, “could you please come out into the hall with me?”
Everyone looked at me as I nervously followed her out of the classroom. My mind was racing as I tried to figure out what I might have done wrong. I couldn’t think of anything, but I was sure that having a teacher call you out into the hallway was rarely a good thing.
My teacher, Mrs. Ruth Rampton, explained that she was going to teach a lesson that afternoon on trees. “I need a book to teach this lesson,” she explained, “and I’ve left it home. Could you please go and get it for me?” I sighed a sigh of relief. She then described the book to me, handed me the key to her home, and said, “This will let you in the front door. I left the book in either the kitchen or the living room. After you find it, be sure to lock the door behind you.”
As I walked the quarter mile to Mrs. Rampton’s home, I held the key in my hand. It represented a great trust my teacher had placed in me. She had chosen me as someone she could depend upon. That trust she placed in me felt good. I decided that I liked being trusted.
Being trusted makes us feel happy, but we must earn that trust. It is very special. My brother Bill was six years older than I was. He was my ideal, I wanted to be just like him. I would follow him and his friends around and, although I am sure he sometimes thought of me as a little pest, he was good to me and allowed me to tag along.
When Bill was in high school, he had saved enough money to buy himself a car. I remember well the day he drove his very first car home. It was his pride and joy, and he spent many hours shining it up. One day as we were coming home, he stopped at the bottom of the lane that led to our barn and asked me if I would like to drive his car up the lane, which was permissible in those days on a farm. Of course I would! I couldn’t believe that he would trust me to drive his new car—I knew how much it meant to him.
I ran around and jumped into the driver’s seat. He showed me where the key was, how to shift gears, and where the gas pedal was. My foot just barely reached the pedal. I knew everything I needed to know to start the car, and off we went. It was great! It was only when we reached the top of the hill that I realized he hadn’t shown me how to stop the car, and we ran right into the side of the barn. I felt so bad! I was sure that Bill would never trust me to drive his car again. However, a few days later he asked me again if I wanted to drive his car up the lane—but this time he showed me where the brake was! I was so grateful that he understood that running into the barn had just been an accident and that it hadn’t destroyed his trust in me.
Growing up for me was much different than it is for many of you. Oh, I had good parents as you have, who taught me and set a good example for me. I went to Primary as you do. I learned the Articles of Faith, we sang many of the same Primary songs you sing, and I learned about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, just as you do today. But in many ways my life was different from yours. I lived in a small town in Utah where my pioneer grandparents had settled many years before. I always lived in the same home. All my friends—everyone I knew—were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My world was very small, and my life was very simple: no television, no video games; I had never even heard of a computer!
Today you Primary children live in over 160 countries throughout the world. Some of your families are newly converted to the Church. Some of you move often and have lived in many homes. Some of you are the only members of the Church in your neighborhood or even in your school. You have access to the entire world through the television and the Internet. It is a wonderful time to be alive! You have many more opportunities than I had as a child. Along with the opportunities come challenges. You have so many more choices than I ever had. There will be those who will tempt you to do things that you know aren’t right.
It is not only important to be trustworthy, but it is important to know whom you can trust. You will learn many things and will need to make choices that will sometimes be difficult. You need to place your trust in those who will lead you to do what is right:
You can trust in Heavenly Father. You are His children. He hears and answers your prayers. He loves you and will always be there for you.
You can trust Jesus Christ. His teachings tell us how we should live our lives so that we can return and live with Him again.
You can trust the Holy Ghost. If you listen to His promptings, He will lead you and guide you and help you make right choices.
You can trust your parents. They love you and want only the best for you.
You can trust our prophet. There is always safety in following the prophet.
You can put your trust in the scriptures. They are true and will give you direction in your life as you read them every day.
You can trust your teachers and leaders. They love you and are teaching you the things that Heavenly Father wants you to do.
We must always be trustworthy. We must learn whom we can trust to help us make right choices. Perhaps the most important thing of all is that we must let Heavenly Father know that He can trust us—that He can trust us to do the things that are right, that He can trust us to keep His commandments to be loving and kind and obedient and honest and to set a good example for all those around us. Heavenly Father wants us to be trustworthy, and when we are, we will receive the wonderful blessings of peace and joy and happiness that He has to share with all His children.

Let me close with my testimony, which takes us back to my first year at BYU. You see, while I changed quite a bit while there, some things I did not change like my study habits or my commitment to the gospel. So, in addition to having the most fun ever during that first year, I also received higher grades than I had in high school. I attribute that largely to my becoming competent in obeying the Honor Code and in keeping the Sabbath day holy. In fact, those were the best grades of my entire college career.

Of greater impact, President Spencer W. Kimball gave the first devotional that year. Before he even entered the Marriott Center, before I heard him speak, I received my own witness that this Church is led by prophets of God. Starting there, I've been able to receive a witness of every Church president since, as well as my current stake president, bishop, and even the current president of this university. It was also while a student at BYU in a simple prayer while I was preparing for my mission in my dorm room that I came to know for myself that Jesus Christ is indeed the Savior of the world and atoned for my sins.

It was family home evening, and everybody had a part to do. Mom was conducting. Dad was giving the lesson. The kids were in charge of prayer, music, and activity—except for Thomas. This week it was Thomas’s turn to bear his testimony, and he was feeling kind of embarrassed.
Thomas had shared his testimony before, but it had been a long time, and he couldn’t quite remember what he was supposed to say. So when the opening song was over and the prayer had been said, Thomas frowned.
“It’s your turn,” Mom reminded him.
Thomas looked out the window at their evergreen tree, wishing somehow it could tell him what to do.
Dad sat down next to Thomas and asked him what was wrong.
“I don’t know what a testimony is,” Thomas said quietly.
“Well, I can help you,” Dad said. “It’s telling us some of the things you know are true or things you believe. You could talk about how you like reading scriptures. That always helps you feel the Spirit.”
But Thomas wasn’t feeling ready. Everyone was looking at him, waiting for him to do something. He shook his head. “I can’t. I don’t know what it is.”
Dad patted Thomas’s arm. “It’s OK. You can do it another time.”
Later that evening Thomas sat in bed holding his Book of Mormon. Dad was right—reading the scriptures always did make him feel better. He tried to read a chapter a day, but the chapters were starting to get really long. He opened his scriptures to 1 Nephi 17.
“That’s a long one!” Thomas whispered. He said a little prayer to Heavenly Father asking for help. Then he was amazed at how quickly the time passed.
Just before Thomas turned out his light, Dad came in to say good night.
“Guess what, Dad?”
“What’s that, buddy?”
“I haven’t read my scriptures for a whole week because the chapters were getting too long. But tonight I wanted to, so I said a prayer, and Heavenly Father helped me. I read the whole thing, and it felt like only five minutes. Prayer is a good thing.”
“Thomas, do you know what you just said?” Dad asked with a smile. “You shared your testimony!”
“Really?” Thomas asked. “What do you mean?”
“When you talked about prayer and how it helped you—that’s a testimony of prayer.”
Thomas’s mouth dropped open in surprise. He thought about all the times people had taught him about testimony. He realized he had shared a testimony!
Thomas felt so good he felt like laughing. He gave Dad a hug.
“Wow, I did it!” Thomas said. “Dad, can I bear my testimony next week in family home evening? I know it’s not my turn, but I want to talk about prayer.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Dad said.
As Dad left the room, Thomas thought about all that had happened that day. He was grateful for family, scriptures, prayer, and many other things. Right then, he was most grateful for a testimony. He knew how to share one and what it meant.

Years ago I served on a stake high council with Emery Wight. For 10 years Emery had served as bishop of rural Harper Ward. His wife, Lucille, became our stake Relief Society president.
Lucille told me that one spring morning a neighbor called at her door and asked for Emery. She told him that he was out plowing. The neighbor then spoke with great concern. Earlier that morning he had passed the field and noticed Emery’s team of horses standing in a half-finished furrow with the reins draped over the plow. Emery was nowhere in sight. The neighbor thought nothing of it until much later when he passed the field again, and the team had not moved. He climbed the fence and crossed the field to the horses. Emery was nowhere to be found. He hurried to the house to check with Lucille.
Lucille calmly replied, “Oh, don’t be alarmed. No doubt someone is in trouble and came to get the bishop.”
The image of that team of horses standing for hours in the field symbolizes the dedication of the bishops in the Church and of the counselors who stand by their side. Every bishop and every counselor, figuratively speaking, leaves his team standing in an unfinished furrow when someone needs help.
I have passed that field many times over the years. It is a reminder of the sacrifice and the service of those called to serve in bishoprics of wards and of their wives and families, without whose help they could not serve.

Many years ago, in a very difficult time in our lives, I felt under attack from the adversary. At that time the Lord made it very clear to me that I needed to do more and to be better. Let me give you just a little background.
Sue and I had been married at that time for more than thirty years, and we had been active and involved in the Church all our lives. We served in the Church; we attended the temple every week; and we prayed with our children, studied the scriptures with them, and held family home evening. We tried to be good Latter-day Saints. And yet the Lord said to me, “You need to do more.”
One night I had a terrible nightmare. I awoke very anxious and concerned, and I knelt and prayed to my Father in Heaven for help. As I prayed, there came into my mind a passage from Ephesians:
For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.
In the morning I looked up the scripture and read these words:
Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.
Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.
When I read the words “put on the whole armour of God,” I felt a powerful witness of the Spirit that this was the answer to my prayers. I needed to put on the whole armor of God—every bit of it.
Sue and I talked about what that might mean, and we prayed for guidance. I learned that we needed to ask ourselves two questions. I believe these are the questions whose answers will lead us to do what we need to do to prepare for what lies ahead. Here they are:
As we asked those questions in prayer, we received very specific answers. We changed how we spent our time, what media we allowed into our home, how we served in the temple, how we studied the scriptures, and how we served the Lord. We needed to increase our spirituality. Through this process of repentance the Lord Jesus Christ reached out and changed our lives. We felt His mercy, His grace, His love, and His power in greater measure. Through His matchless power He changed our hearts and our minds and lifted us up to Him. It was a turning point in our lives.

Reading the scriptures is hard for Shellee because of the vocabulary. She doesn’t recognize words from having heard them in conversation; she has to learn each word individually by looking it up. Words like nevertheless are hard enough to understand when you’ve heard other people use them. How is a deaf person to understand it without help?
Shellee’s seminary teacher is helping to solve this problem with drawings. She has her students draw pictures in their scriptures that go along with the stories so they can have a better idea of what is going on. “It helps a lot,” Shellee says.

When I returned home to the Philippines after my mission, the first thing I wanted to do was meet a worthy priesthood holder whom I could marry in the temple and build a Christ-centered family with.
I thought that finding him would be easy. But now it’s been quite a few years since I returned home, and I have yet to find someone to marry.
I’ve been goal-driven all my life. In high school, I made goals for my future, specifically goals that would help me progress on the covenant path—the only path that will ultimately lead me, and all of us, back to live with Heavenly Father.
I made goals to graduate from seminary and institute, to finish my studies, to get endowed in the temple, to serve a mission, to find a job in line with my degree, and to build an eternal family.
I’ve achieved all those goals apart from one, and despite being proud of all I’ve accomplished, I’ve sometimes felt as though I’ve stopped progressing.
For years I’ve spent so much time searching and praying to find someone to be with for eternity. I’ve always obeyed the commandments, applied the teachings of the prophets and the leaders in my life, and striven to be worthy to enter the temple. So, in frustration, I’ve sometimes wondered why, after trying so hard, I am still unable to reach this one goal and often feel unable to move forward on the covenant path.
What am I lacking?
One night when I was feeling extra discouraged about my marital status and seeming lack of progression, I poured out my feelings to Heavenly Father. I felt stuck, lonely, and lost. As I prayed and pondered, a clear reminder came to me:
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart. …
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths” (Proverbs 3:5–6).
In that moment, I realized that those “paths” included the covenant path.
I was reminded that if I “let God prevail” in my life, as President Russell M. Nelson taught,1 He would direct me toward Christ and grant me spiritual strength, promised blessings, and eternal progression.
Elder Marvin J. Ashton (1915–94) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “Set your goals. … But don’t become frustrated because there are no obvious victories. Remind yourself that striving can be more important than arriving.”2
For so long I had focused only on my hopes for marriage and my “failure” at not achieving that covenant. I had forgotten the significance of the covenants I had made and how those covenants had helped me move toward Christ.
I had forgotten how beautiful my circumstances were. Right now, because I don’t have children or many obligations at home, I have time to develop more skills for the future. I’m able to give a great amount of my time to serving others and ministering to those in my ward. I am able to meet more people and learn from them. I get to spend time improving my relationships with my parents and siblings. And most importantly, I still have plenty of opportunities to continue becoming more like the Savior.
I’ve realized that if I’m still walking on the path that leads me to Jesus Christ, then I’m right where I need to be.
I am moving forward on the covenant path.

Mutual can also be an opportunity to participate in missionary work. It is a great place to invite less-active members or friends of other faiths to feel the Spirit in a casual, less intimidating setting.
Brother Dahlquist told the story of a priesthood leader he met in Uruguay. After talking with him for a minute, Brother Dahlquist discovered that this man went through a period of inactivity in his youth. When Brother Dahlquist asked what happened, this man said, “When I was 12, I received a visit from a deacons quorum president and his counselor, and they invited me to come play soccer at Mutual. And so I went, and I brought some friends for moral support. My friends and I outnumbered the quorum that was there, but we had a great time. After the activity, the quorum president came to me and said, ‘Why don’t you come on Sunday? We’d love to have you.’ The rest is history. I went on a mission. I married in the temple, and I am now serving in the stake presidency.”

As we leave the Sloviks and visit the Halversson family, who have recently arrived from Sweden, dusk is gathering. Helga helps to light a candle in each window, an important ceremony in her family. The traditional Swedish Christmas season lasts for a whole month, and Helga and her mother have been busy making cookies, breads, candles, and straw ornaments.
As she helps herself to the different dishes of the smorgasbord, Helga thinks about their farm in Sweden. All the animals there were given extra food on Christmas Eve, and a bowl of rice pudding was always left in the loft for Jultomten, the mischievous elf who guards one’s home. After Jultomten ate his pudding, he would leave gifts for Helga and her family. Tonight Helga will leave Jultomten’s pudding on the table.
In the small room of the Murphys, who immigrated from Ireland, a bright wreath of holly with its shining leaves and red berries makes the walls look cheery. Colleen and her sister, Mary, help set the table, even though they have just finished their dinner. They place a loaf of bread and a pitcher of milk on the clean table, along with a large candle.
The girls’ grandmother smiles at them. “Since you have been blessed with the name Mary, you may light the candle, my dear,” she says. There is a deep hush as Mary solemnly lights the candle.
Colleen, who feels a bit left out for a moment, runs to the door to make sure that it is unlatched. The Christ Child, or any lonely wanderer, might see the Murphys’ lighted candle and know that He/he is welcome in their home for food and friendship.

I mentioned the young man in another setting. Later I received an unsigned letter that began, “Elder Gong, my wife and I have raised nine kids … and served two missions.” But “I always felt I would not be allowed in the celestial kingdom … because my sins as a youth were so bad!”

The letter continued, “Elder Gong, when you told about the young man gaining hope of forgiveness, I was filled with joy, beginning to realize that maybe I [could be forgiven].” The letter concludes, “I even like myself now!”

Ms. Ward stood at the front of the room. She held a big jar full of small folded papers. “It’s time to pick our homework winner,” she said.
Sam, Miles, and Jake sat up in their chairs. Every day they spent part of school in a speech class together. And every time they did their class homework, they got to put their name in a jar. At the end of the week, Ms. Ward drew a name out of the jar, and that person won a prize.
Ms. Ward put her hand in the big jar to pull out a name. As they watched, each boy was thinking about what he wanted to win.
“I hope it’s a race car,” Miles said.
“I want a coloring book,” Jake said. “What do you want, Sam?”
Sam looked at the big jar. He hoped the prize was candy. He could almost taste it.
Ms. Ward took a name out of the jar and held it up. “Sam is our winner this week,” she said.
Sam grinned when she handed him the prize bag. And when he saw what was inside, he grinned even more. There were five pieces of yummy-looking candy! He didn’t know if he could wait till the end of class to eat them.
Then Sam looked at Miles. He looked kind of sad. And Jake was just staring at his workbook.
Sam thought about it. He won the candy for himself. But there was plenty to share. He knew Jesus said to treat others the way we want them to treat us. And when he looked at Miles and Jake, Sam knew what he should do.
When the bell rang at the end of class, Ms. Ward said, “You may eat your candy now, Sam.”
Sam smiled. “Thanks, Ms. Ward. But I don’t think I should eat it all.” Then he handed two pieces of candy to Miles and two pieces to Jake.
“Wow, thanks!” they both said as they opened their candy.
Sam looked down at the one piece of candy left in his hand. He slowly took the wrapper off and popped the candy in his mouth. It was just as good as he had hoped. Sam smiled as he looked at his friends eating their candy. Sharing the candy seemed to make it taste even better.

Elder Choi:
I applied for several jobs in Korea before I finished my master’s program because I planned to go back home as soon as I finished my education in the United States. Although I was asked to be ready for interviews from some good companies in the computer field, I had no final offers before we left the United States. Many people said how silly I was, as the head of my family, going back to my home country without any money or job. Many people did not go back home after finishing their education. We were going back, anyway. The choice was not difficult for me because I felt, even before becoming a student that I needed to return to Korea once I completed my education. That feeling was confirmed during my new-student orientation at BYU-Hawaii, where I understood clearly that we would need to go back home to serve our home country and to strengthen the kingdom of the Lord, in accordance with the counsel of the prophet, Harold B. Lee, in his General Conference address on April 6, 1973, entitled “Strengthen the Stakes of Zion”.[3] Yes, I had great fear to go back home without money, home, or job. I doubted whether or not I was making the right decision when I thought about those worries. In addition, I found many opportunities and excuses to stay in the United States. Fortunately, my faith to do the will of the Lord was stronger than my fear and doubt. The Lord said, “Look unto me in every thought. Doubt not, fear not.” (D&C 6:36)[4]

Sister Choi:
As Elder Choi mentioned, we did not have money. We did not have our own home when we went back to Korea. We started living with his parents. We thought he would be hired in a short time, but all his job applications were rejected. He had more than twenty interviews, but all ended up for nothing. He could not find a job for two months.

Elder Choi:
I was patient and faithful until then, but it was hard to be patient anymore because I expected to find employment easily and quickly with my credentials. I was very disappointed, hung my head with shame, and started doubting myself. “What did I do wrong? Is this the result of listening to the words of the prophet? Should I have stayed in the United States to look for a job there? It would have been easier to find a job there. What shall I do to support my family? How can I take care of my wife and my two little children? My friends who told me to stay in the States will laugh at me. Does this mean I should go back to the States?” I couldn’t find the answer at all and thus I was not happy for a while. In spite of that difficult time, I did not miss a single day to pray, to study the scriptures, and to hold weekly family home evening. As I did these basic things, I found the energy to push myself to continue to be faithful.

One day I went to the Church Distribution Center to buy a book and met a senior missionary couple. We introduced ourselves to each other and they learned that I was looking for a job. They said they had a friend who was the general manager for Data General Korea and he was looking for a manager. Data General was an American computer company opening an office in Korea. After two months of rejection and waiting, I was so humbled that I told them I did not have any work experience except part-time jobs on the university campus. I meant I was not qualified for the position he was trying to fill. They said, “Let’s see if there’s any other position.” I received contact information and called the general manager in Korea that day. He wanted to see me the next day.

When I interviewed with him, he said he was looking for a person exactly like me who knew the cultures of both America and Korea. He was looking for someone who could be a bridge between headquarters in Boston and New York in the United States and the Seoul Korea office. I told him I did not have enough experience, but I would work hard and do my best. When he asked me how much I wanted to be paid, I submitted the least amount and told him I did not mind how much. He said, “Do not underestimate yourself. You studied hard and you are qualified enough for this position. I found a diamond in the rough.” He then offered me a salary that was double the amount I would have gotten from any of those companies that had rejected me during the previous two months. I also received more benefits with better working conditions to spend more time with my family and church responsibilities. I repented for not being patient during this process of learning how to be more humble. Soon, I was called as the Young Men’s president in my ward and became a young bishop one year later. My job at Data General was the perfect job for me to fulfill the needs of my family and my church assignments. This job was the blessing and the reward for my decision to listen to the will of Heavenly Father and return to my home country. He prepared the best job for me, but I didn’t know His plan for me.