Gospel Story Finder

Looking back, darkness to light, my life in the ghetto was difficult, and a person could make it harder by making wrong choices. There was little opportunity for progression. But I wanted something worth living for. When the opportunity came to leave the ghetto with part of my family, I decided this was my chance.
Many of the girls I grew up with never left the ghetto. I could not have made it without following the desires of my heart and trusting in my Father above to lead me. At times, while walking around Ricks College in Idaho, I realize all that I have been blessed with. I was blessed with the chance to leave the ghetto, be baptized a member of this church, gain an education, and fulfill a mission in Utah. I know Heavenly Father loves us all and is mindful of our circumstances no matter where we are. He desires above all things our happiness.

I love playing volleyball. Last summer I went to a volleyball camp with my friend, and we became friends with another girl there. One day at lunch, she brought up the Church, and we were able to share some of our beliefs with her. She seemed interested and wanted to know more. Although camp was only a few days long and we may not see her again, I hope talking with her will lead her to learn more about the Church and the gospel.
Kate K., 15, Utah, USA

When I was 14 or 15 years old, I worked for my father in the family dry cleaning business during what free time I had. That summer, business was slow. So I said, “Okay, I want to read the entire Book of Mormon—from the first page to the last.” And I did. The reading excited me.
In the edition of the Book of Mormon I had, Moroni’s promise was printed on one of the opening pages. That promise struck me. If someone read the book and then asked God, He would answer (see Moro. 10:3–5). I had heard the promise before, but in that moment the Holy Ghost impressed it upon my heart.
After finishing the last page of the book, I knelt in a small private room at work and prayed to Heavenly Father. And through the Holy Ghost I received the testimony I sought. From the tip of my toes to the last hair on my head, I felt that the Book of Mormon was the word of God and that Joseph Smith was a prophet.

A true story from India and Canada.
Tahira folded the last shirt and put it in her suitcase. She was packing for a trip to spend the summer with her aunt and uncle in Canada. She was excited but also a little nervous. Canada was far away from her home in India.
“Do you have everything?” Mom asked.
“I think so.” Tahira closed her suitcase.
“You’ll have a great time. Be sure to give Uncle Reza and Aunt Misu big hugs from me,” Mom said.
When Tahira got off the plane in Canada, she gave Uncle Reza and Aunt Misu a big hug. “This is from my mom,” she said.
They spent the next few days exploring the city and nearby places. She got to visit her first amusement park and see Niagara Falls. It was a lot of fun!
On Saturday afternoon, Tahira helped make chicken makhani for dinner. After they ate, Uncle Reza asked her a question.
“Would you like to come to church with us tomorrow?” he asked. “We go to a Christian church. We learn about Jesus Christ and His gospel there.”
“Sure,” Tahira said. Mom and Dad believed in a different religion, but Tahira went to a Christian boarding school in India. Going to a new church wouldn’t be that different.
The next day, Tahira put on a dress her aunt gave her to wear. When they got to the chapel and walked inside, everyone was singing. Tahira stopped and stared at all the people. There were moms and dads sitting with their kids. Everyone looked happy. The singing was so beautiful.
This feels like heaven, Tahira thought.
Tahira sat down on one of the benches with Aunt Misu and Uncle Reza. She watched as trays of bread and water were passed. She listened to the speakers talk about Jesus Christ. And she heard more singing. The last song was about families being together forever. She loved how the words made her feel.
After the last prayer, Tahira turned to Uncle Reza. “What does being together forever mean?”
Uncle Reza smiled. “We believe that if we follow Jesus Christ and make and keep promises with God, we can live in heaven with our families someday—all together.”
Tahira felt warm inside from her head to her toes. She liked the idea of being with her family forever.
After church, Tahira kept thinking about the beautiful music. She wanted to learn more about Jesus Christ and forever families. She decided to meet with the missionaries. As the weeks passed, Tahira knew more and more that the gospel was true.
Tahira called her parents to tell them about what she was learning. Then she asked them an important question. “Can I be baptized?” They said yes!
On the day of her baptism, Tahira, Uncle Reza, and Aunt Misu sang “I Am a Child of God.” Uncle Reza had translated it so they could sing it in Hindi. Hindi was the language she spoke at home in India.
As Tahira sang, she felt a warm feeling in her heart. It felt like heaven. And Tahira knew that because of Jesus Christ, if she kept her promises to Heavenly Father, she could live with both of Them again one day.
About Tahira
After her baptism, Tahira went back to India. There wasn’t a ward or branch near her home, but her ward members in Canada called her often.
Today, Tahira helps translate the hymnbook into many languages.
Illustrations by Ekata Mandal

My sister speaks Russian. Since she came to live with us, I have learned the Russian words for ice cream (morozhennoye), cat (koshka), and thank you (spasibo).
My sister’s name is Sophie, and she is four years old. When she lived in Kazakhstan, her name was Nasipzhan. Mama and Papa changed her name after we adopted her and she came to America to live with us.
Sophie doesn’t look like me or my brother. We have red hair, freckles, and a gap between our front teeth. Papa says we look like peaches with nutmeg and cream.
Sophie has black hair, no freckles, olive-colored skin, and eyes shaped like almonds. Papa says Sophie looks like a porcelain doll. When she smiles, there’s a dimple in her cheek.
We look different, but Sophie is still our sister. We play soccer together. We ride scooters together. We eat popcorn and drink chocolate milk together. We even wear chocolate milk mustaches together.
My brother and I want Sophie to be part of our forever family. So do Mama and Papa. Soon we will go to the temple. We will wear white and meet together in a beautiful room. We will become a forever family.
Until then, Sophie will come to my soccer games. We will go on long walks. We will eat popcorn and chase the cats and make lots of chocolate milk mustaches together.
And I will tell Sophie how much I lubit her. Because lubit is the Russian word for love.

I have personally witnessed the miracle of Christ healing my warring heart. With permission of my father, I share that I grew up in a home where I didn’t always feel safe because of emotional and verbal mistreatment. In my youth and young adult years, I resented my father and had anger in my heart from that hurt.

Over the years and in my efforts to find peace and healing on the path of forgiveness, I came to realize in a profound way that the same Son of God who atoned for my sins is the same Redeemer who will also save those who have deeply hurt me. I could not truly believe the first truth without believing the second.

As my love for the Savior has grown, so has my desire to replace hurt and anger with His healing balm. It has been a process of many years, requiring courage, vulnerability, perseverance, and learning to trust in the Savior’s divine power to save and heal. I still have work to do, but my heart is no longer on a warpath. I have been given “a new heart”—one that has felt the deep and abiding love of a personal Savior, who stayed beside me, who gently and patiently led me to a better place, who wept with me, who knew my sorrow.

The Lord has sent me compensatory blessings just as Abigail brought what David needed. He has sent mentors into my life. And sweetest and most transformative of all has been my relationship with my Heavenly Father. Through Him, I’ve gratefully known the gentle, protective, and guiding love of a perfect Father.

My earthly father has also had a miraculous change of heart in recent years and has turned to the Lord—something I wouldn’t have anticipated in this life. Another testimony to me of the complete and transformative power of Jesus Christ.

The Hong Kong sky was filled with large white birds that made Lo Ling’s lips curve into a smile. The graceful birds were chattering, telling the noisy city below that they were on their way to the sea for a fine fish meal. But Lo Ling’s smile disappeared when he remembered the letter that had failed to come from America.

“Mai Chang promised,” he told his mother. His head longed to shake out the words describing the irritation he felt, but he had been taught to show respect. Instead, he thought unhappily that a promise was a sacred word, and Mai Chang was breaking her word.

He remembered that near the teahouse she had taken him aside and, with a voice like a dove, had said, “When Chinese Easter comes, go to the cemetery as is our tradition and sweep the graves of my parents and grandparents. Dig out weeds also. Take incense and bowls of rice, too, that their spirits may not hunger. Even though I shall be far away in America, my ancestors must be honored. Go also at the time of the Moon Festival (Mid-Autumn Festival). I will send money from America.”

“Mai Chang will keep her promise,” his mother said.

“But when?” Lo Ling insisted. “Even now it is almost the time of the Ching Ming, (Easter Festival).”

“When? When there is money to send,” answered his mother quietly.

“But there is money to send!” Lo Ling blustered, forgetting himself. It was not easy to remain silent when he believed that riches abounded in America.

“And who says there is gold in America?” she asked with a quizzical smile.

“Mai Chang herself!” Lo Ling flung back.

“Mai Chang?” His mother’s eyebrows arched. “And how did Mai Chang learn this?”

“From the men in the teahouse!” Lo Ling’s black eyes brightened. Mai Chang had told him, “While I scrub the floor I listen to the men talk. They say that the streets in America are paved with gold, that riches are everywhere.”

“From the men in the teahouse?” mocked his mother. “Have these men been to America, have they seen with their own eyes the fortune they speak of?”

Lo Ling bowed his head, unable to answer.

“Then I shall tell you. These men have not even traveled to the next province. They dream dreams, dreams without fact, dreams they wish to believe and cling to.” She paused, watching disappointment touch Lo Ling’s face, then went on. “But there need not be riches to keep a promise. Mai Chang will send the money.”

“And if she does not,” Lo Ling declared, “I shall not sweep the graves!” Disappointment had made him forget what he had been taught.

“Lo Ling!” his mother uttered in surprise. “You have made a bargain.”

“Yes,” Lo Ling agreed with snapping eyes. “And I shall sweep the graves at Ching Ming, but not when the Moon Festival comes! Why should I?”

“For the same reason Father gives ricksha rides to the elderly and sick who have no money.”

Lo Ling said no more, but he decided that when the Moon Festival came he would not go to the cemetery and sweep the graves of Mai Chang’s ancestors. Besides, it was so far away that most people rode there by train. “Why should I walk my feet off?” he muttered half to himself.

Later that same day he made his way to the teahouse. Why he went there, he didn’t know. He just stood in front of the door with the dragon face and observed the men who came outside.

One man seemed to know Lo Ling. “Son of Tao Ling, are you not?” he addressed the boy. Then his eyes narrowed as he studied Lo Ling. He seemed satisfied with what he saw and pressed a piece of folded paper into Lo Ling’s hand. “Deliver this to Chin Wong at the shop of herbs,” the man said, “and return here tomorrow at this time and you shall receive a coin.” Then he walked quickly away.

Lo Ling was too surprised to think, let alone answer. By the time he had regained his wits, the gentleman had disappeared in the crowd.

“Deliver this to Chin Wong at the shop of herbs?” Lo Ling repeated in frustration. “I shall not!” The man is another Mai Chang, Lo Ling thought, wanting a favor without giving payment. He let out a snort and started running in the opposite direction.

But halfway down the Street of the Dragons he stopped, remembering the words of his father and mother. Slowly he turned around and returned to the Street of the Lotus Blossoms where the shop of herbs was located.

The shop was dim and uninviting. Nevertheless, he opened the door. Inside, the twilight was even deeper, and the musky aroma of a thousand herbs filled the air. Other than a clutter of nestling jars and bottles, no one seemed to be there. Suddenly Lo Ling was startled by a voice from the shadows, “I am Chin Wong. May I be of service?” And immediately Lo Ling surrendered the folded piece of paper.

Chin Wong read the message carefully, then smiled at Lo Ling. “You were paid to deliver the message?” he asked kindly.

Lo Ling quickly moved his head from side to side.

Chin Wong smiled, his eyes half shut. But they were open enough to watch and study Lo Ling closely. “You were not paid,” he said at last, “yet you came here. Why?”

Lo Ling’s tongue remained silent.

Chin Wong’s smile deepened, and he pressed a coin into Lo Ling’s palm. “For your service.” He bowed, then pressed another coin into Lo Ling’s open hand, and said, “An extra yen for being your father’s honorable son.”

Lo Ling had not expected even one coin. He was speechless. And when he found his tongue again, Chin Wong was gone. So Lo Ling stood with an unsaid thanks on his lips and the wonderful feel of the coins in his hand, while thoughts raced through his head. Then he left the shop happily and started for the teakwood shop where he intended to purchase the finest incense his coins could buy!

After that he planned to hurry home and rest. Easter would arrive in two days, and the hike to the cemetery would be long and hard. The thought made Lo Ling smile as he whispered to himself, “But not too hard.”

It was a beautiful September day with warm sun shining. It was even still warm enough to water-ski, but I was sitting in seminary. It was only the beginning of the year, but I was already anxious to finish high school and seminary forever.
“And this scripture I want you to mark with a V.I.S.,” said Brother Eliason, my seminary teacher. It was Genesis 39:9 [Gen. 39:9], and I automatically colored in the scripture, emphasizing “… how then can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?” We skipped to verse 12 and darkened “… fled, and got him out.” Then I wrote V.I.S. in the margin, which was Brother Eliason’s code for “Very Important Scripture.”
He told us about Joseph’s situation and how it took a great deal of strength for him to run away from Potiphar’s wife. Joseph knew he was in a situation where he needed to have made his decision beforehand. Then Brother Eliason said, “If you ever remember a scripture in your life, remember this one.”
“Then why did you tell us last week that we have to memorize 40 of them?” someone wisecracked from the back of the room. The bell drowned out Brother Eliason’s answer, and we all filed out of class.
Soon, that day was over, then that week, the month, and then the year. I was planning to go to school in the fall, but my plans changed drastically when my mother was diagnosed with cancer. She and my stepfather and I moved to a small apartment in Houston to be close to the hospital she needed.
My stepfather and I took turns driving Mom to the hospital. The chemotherapy made her terribly sick, and soon she lost all of her hair. She had been a strong woman who had survived the death of a husband and the problems of blending two families, so to see her like that was very depressing for me.
I enrolled in a community college to take classes and get out of the house, and it was there that I met Ron. He was the friend I needed, and we soon started spending all of our time together. He was older, although he’d never been married, and he had a nice sports car, a house, and a boat. He was not a member of the Church.
It was easy to forget my problems at home when I was with him, because we did so many fun things together. He even came to church with me regularly. But soon he was suggesting that we spend the night together, since that was the way his relationships usually progressed. I repeatedly told him about my religious conviction against this, but he didn’t give up.
I needed a friend, and I mistakenly continued to see him. I started to weaken at the same time I knew being with him was wrong. I was weak and vulnerable, and it became easier to ignore the Spirit.
Then one night, in one of my weakest times, I started to rationalize. I believed that Ron loved me, and I knew he could take care of me. I suddenly felt very secure in his arms. Then I heard a voice in my head that said, “… fled, and got him out.” I was startled that I would remember that phrase after all that time. Then the voice seemed to come even louder, “… fled, and got him out.” Without another thought I literally fled from the room and the situation.
When my head cleared, I could see how close I had come to making a mistake that would have changed my life forever. I could see how Satan used my emotions to cloud my judgment, and I could also see how one scripture had saved my life.
I often wonder if Brother Eliason knew the impact of what he was teaching us on that ordinary fall day. I am thankful for him and for both a Heavenly Father and an earthly father that love me more than Ron ever did. And I’m thankful for the scriptures—especially for the one I remembered so well.
Survival Tips
If temptation’s too strong, leave.

“Working on Daughters in My Kingdom as a graphic designer was a rare and extraordinary experience. In our first meeting, Sister Julie B. Beck, Relief Society general president, bore her testimony to us that the book was coming forth under revelation and the instruction of living prophets. From that first day, revelation guided everything. Every time any one of us read from the book’s pages, we were touched by the Spirit and changed for the better. It happened to me, and I watched it happen to editors, designers, illustrators, production artists, and press employees.”—Tadd Peterson

When he was four years old, a series of tests disclosed that Stephen Farrance had a type of muscle disease, which, if it progressed as it had been doing, would kill him by the time he was 12.
“The impact and finality of the doctor’s verdict didn’t really register with us,” recalled his mother. “Stephen could do so many things. We just encouraged him to be independent. He had his regular chores to do just like his brother and sister. Then later, when the tendons pulled his feet up and he had to walk on his toes, we withdrew some of his responsibilities but gave him others. He went to a regular school and made a niche for himself.
“I remember one teacher telling me that she called Stephen and a new boy up to her desk at the same time. When Stephen arrived, he braced his feet and placed a hand on her desk. The newcomer said, ‘Are you okay?’, and Stephen said, ‘My feet don’t like to stop walking, and it takes me a minute or two to convince them. But, thanks, I’m fine now.’”

About two months after my baptism, I was crossing over a highway on a walkway bridge in an area named Posto Dudu, in the city of Parnamirim in Brazil. I was heading to a bus stop on the opposite side.
As I crossed, I passed a lady who was clinging to a safety railing. Her head was down and her body was shaking. People seemed afraid of her when they passed her. I thought she might have mental problems.
After I passed her, I heard a voice as clear as any human voice that said, “Go back!” I didn’t see anyone near me and thought I was hearing things.
I walked a little farther when I heard the voice again: “Go back!” I thought about returning but kept walking, wondering if the lady might hurt me if I went back to her.
When I reached the other side of the walkway, I heard the voice for the third time: “Go back!” I stopped, remembering that I had recently received the gift of the Holy Ghost and the blessing to receive guidance from the Spirit. I hurried back to the lady.
“Excuse me, but can I help you?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said with tears in her eyes. “I need to get to the other side to catch my bus, but I can’t make it because I’m afraid of heights. I have been standing here for a long time without knowing what to do.”
“I will help you,” I told her. “Hold my arm, close your eyes, and together we will reach the other side.”
She tightly held on to my arm, closed her eyes, and slowly walked with me to the other side. She said she had been praying for a long time that God would help her cross. Then she thanked me and asked God to bless me. After she caught her bus, I thought for several minutes about what had just happened.
“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me,” the Savior said (John 10:27). That day I learned that one of the best ways to follow Him and feel His love is to heed the voice of the Spirit when it calls us to help others.

Thanks for helping me study for that science test. I passed, thanks to you.
No problem!
Umm … how come you’ve been so nice to me after some of us were so mean when you first got here?
Well, after you failed that first science test you looked like you needed some help.
And we had a lesson in our family home evening about being kind to others.
What’s family home evening?
Family home evening is where we get together and have lessons, and games, and treats.
My family doesn’t do anything like that.
Hey! Does your family want to come to our home evening next Monday night?
Sounds fun. I’ll ask my mom.
Mom, can I be in charge of family home evening on Monday? I invited Audrey. I hope that’s OK.
… I’ll make brownies and …
To be continued …

During our first few months as custodians we were either ignored by the members or treated with what we felt was condescending sweetness. Gradually as we became acquainted, their attitudes began to change. Ace was always there, ready to set up tables or help in any way. He made friends with the children and young adults, letting them in the building to play basketball or volleyball whenever he was there. They reciprocated by trying not to track up the foyers, especially on Saturday when he had it all cleaned for Sunday.
After the first year or so people began treating us more warmly. Some of the Primary teachers and classes brought us goodies and baskets of fruit for Christmas. One year a group of boys made a nativity scene for us out of cardboard and molded sugar. They also brought a wreath made of pine cones and nuts. Another Primary made a lovely poster with all their names on it telling us how they loved us and appreciated the way we kept the building clean.
The Relief Societies invited Ace to eat lunch on work day. Once we were even invited by the stake presidency to have dinner with them and the high council while they entertained the visiting General Authority at conference time.

Every year my parents took me to visit Aunt Ruby and Uncle George, who lived on a farm. I enjoyed visiting them because there were so many things to see and do. I played in the barn, helped feed the animals, rode on the tractor, and explored their big red shed.
One time when I was nine years old, I was helping Uncle George feed the animals in the barn. “You sure are quiet this morning, Justin,” he said.
“I was thinking about what my Primary teacher said last week,” I told him.
“What did she say?” Uncle George asked as he threw some hay to one of the cows.
“She said making right choices will help me keep the promises I made to Heavenly Father when I was baptized. But it’s hard to always make the right choice.”
Uncle George nodded. “It is hard to always make correct choices. But when we live the gospel standards and follow the ‘strait and narrow path’ like the scriptures tell us to, the Lord will help us.”
I thought about the “strait and narrow path” for the rest of the morning. When we finished feeding the animals, Uncle George said, “Thanks for your help, Justin. What would you like to do now?”
“I’d like to go over to my friend Jeff’s, but Mom and Dad usually take me there.”
Tilting his hat back on his head, Uncle George said, “They’ve gone into town with Ruby. I can’t take you either, because I have to fix the tractor.”
He put his arm around my shoulders and led me to a big dry ditch. “If you get in this ditch,” he said, “you can follow it all the way to Jeff’s house. Can you do that?”
I told him I was sure I could. Before I left, he gave me two warnings. One, I was to stay in the ditch. If I got out, I could get hurt or lost. Two, I was to keep going, even if I got tired. Then he promised me that if I followed his instructions, I would have no trouble reaching my friend’s house.
At first I was nervous. The grass on both sides of the ditch was so tall I couldn’t see over it. But soon I began to see interesting things all around me, and I wasn’t afraid of being in the ditch. I found a small white snail shell and a lot of interesting plants. Then I found a pebble and put it in my pocket.
After a while, though, it wasn’t interesting anymore, and my legs were getting tired. My faith in Uncle George’s words began to waver. Maybe I had already passed Jeff’s house. Maybe I wasn’t even going in the right direction. My uncle’s warnings were still clear in my mind, but I carefully climbed to the top of the ditch so I could see over the tall grass and find out where I was.
Happily, I saw that only a fence and a large pasture stood between me and Jeff’s house. All I had to do was walk through the pasture, and I would be there. With my goal in sight, I forgot my uncle’s warnings.
I slipped through a hole in the fence and started across the pasture. All I thought about was the fun Jeff and I were going to have. I paid no attention to what was going on around me until I heard a loud snort and the snapping of breaking sticks. I turned around and saw a large bull charging toward me from the edge of the pasture.
Now I had a new goal—to reach the fence before the bull reached me. I knew the shortest distance between two points was a straight line, so I ran straight toward the hole in the fence I had climbed through earlier. I ran so fast I could hear the air whistling around my ears. All the time, I was silently praying that Heavenly Father would bless me to run faster than the bull.
The fence was getting closer, but so was the bull. I was sure I felt his hot breath on my neck as I dived through the fence to safety. He snorted loudly as he pushed his nose through the hole and realized he couldn’t reach me.
My life had been spared. Heavenly Father had answered my prayer. My heart was full of gratitude to Him.
Now all I wanted to do was return to the “strait and narrow path” and follow my uncle’s instructions. I knew there were no bulls in the ditch. It was a safe place.
I had learned that my Primary teacher and Uncle George were right. There is great safety in choosing the right and following the correct path. I realized Heavenly Father would always help me stay on the “strait and narrow path” if I would listen and obey.

My mother loved that scripture and lived its principle. The greatest affliction of her life was the death of her husband, our father, after only 11 years of marriage. This changed her life and imposed great hardships as she proceeded to earn a living and raise her three little children alone. Nevertheless, I often heard her say that the Lord consecrated that affliction for her gain because her husband’s death compelled her to develop her talents and serve and become something that she could never have become without that seeming tragedy. Our mother was a spiritual giant, strong and fully worthy of the loving tribute her three children inscribed on her headstone: “Her Faith Strengthened All.”

The choir leaders work with the region’s public affairs office in organizing places and times to sing. The choir is often included in public performances where the audience is not well acquainted with the Church. When asked about their most memorable performance, they immediately mention a Christmas program held at the local YMCA. Rachel Neifert of the Maryland Heights Ward says: “There were all kinds of choirs there. We sang, ‘This Is the Christ.’ Afterwards people were asking us, ‘What was that feeling?’ It was the best we have ever done. I didn’t know we could sound that good.”

“I think before every performance at least one person says, ‘Let’s try and make this like the YMCA performance.’ That was the most spiritual experience,” adds Carolyn Rees of the Spencer Creek Ward.

Martin woke up slowly. His mom was shaking his shoulder.
“Martin,” she said, “it’s time to wake up.”
Martin rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The sky was still dark, but he knew what time it was. His family woke up at 5:30 every morning to read the Book of Mormon together. It wasn’t always easy to get up so early.
Martin rolled out of bed and walked slowly to the front room. He stretched and yawned really wide. His brothers and sisters looked sleepy too, but they were all there.
Each person read for five minutes. At first Martin wanted to go back to bed. But he kept listening. Each verse seemed to make him feel better and better. By the time they were done reading, Martin felt spiritually strong.
And spiritual strength was something Martin needed every day. In Kenya, there were only a few Church members Martin’s age, and they all lived far away. After school Martin went to a boys’ club run by a Catholic church. One week the club went on a camping trip together.
Martin had a lot of fun. He sang camping songs. He chopped logs. He even helped build a campfire.
But on the second day, one of the leaders brought out a teapot. “We’re going to have tea now,” he said.
The other boys were excited. They drank tea at home for special occasions. They all grabbed their cups and waited for the leader to fill them.
Martin felt a little nervous. He knew that he shouldn’t drink tea. But he didn’t want to offend his friends.
Then he remembered how he felt when he kept the commandments. When his family followed the prophet and read the Book of Mormon together, he felt happy. When they didn’t, he didn’t feel as happy.
Martin knew what he had to do.
“No, thank you,” he told the leader when he came to fill Martin’s cup. “I don’t want to drink tea.”
The leader looked surprised, but he let Martin drink water while the rest of the boys drank tea. Some of the boys wanted to know why Martin didn’t drink tea, but none of them made fun of him. Martin felt happy. He knew the Word of Wisdom would make his body strong. And he was glad that he had been strong enough to do the right thing.

My brother got married in the Mount Timpanogos Utah Temple. When we got there I wanted to go into the temple so badly, but I knew I could only go into the lobby because I was too young. When we entered the temple doors I felt warm inside. When my brother and his wife came out, I could see how happy they were. Even though I couldn’t go inside, it was still a good experience for me. I still can’t wait to go into the temple.Alyson K., age 10, Nevada

He was sent by the Brethren as a missionary when he was fifteen years of age. At the age of five he had lost his father, and at fourteen he had lost his mother. The record shows that he labored in Maui and in Kohala on the Big Island. Then he was transferred to the island of Molokai as the presiding elder when he was sixteen years old. Every day he and his companion, Elder Thomas A. Dowell, visited the several small branches, proselyting, healing the sick, and casting out evil spirits. With the Saints, they read the scriptures and the beautiful teachings of the Savior, and retold the story of the Restoration. Many members were indifferent and had an apathetic attitude because of false reports about the Church and the Prophet Joseph Smith.
The two companions traveled from the east to the west on Molokai. Their food was scarce, and they traveled about thirty miles every day under the hot sun, without water. One day, Elder Smith’s companion almost didn’t make it. That day, they finally reached the home of Mr. and Mrs. Myers, a German family. This couple treated them kindly and so lovingly and gave them food and lodging for several days. Not only that, but Mr. Myers furnished Elder Smith with a good riding horse so he could visit several branches. Elders Smith and Dowell were guided by the Spirit every day. They worked hard and brought converts, as well as bringing so many back into activity.

“I will never forget you, bishop. You saved my life.”
The man who makes that statement today didn’t feel that way in the beginning. As a teen he was scared. He knew he needed to repent. I was his bishop at the time, and he knew we needed to talk. But he was full of doubts.
“What is the bishop going to think of me?”
“Will he keep this confidential?”
“How will I ever look at him again?”
Such worries can feel overwhelming, making it seem nearly impossible to muster the courage necessary to travel the road to repentance.
But some confessions require that you talk to your bishop or branch president. And that’s where this young man found himself. He needed help beyond his own capacity, and he needed to know the journey was possible.
Let me close by telling you a little more about my visit with that young man. “Bishop,” he said, “you’re going to hate me for what I have to tell you. You’ll never be able to look at me again, and if you share what I say with anybody, I’ll kill myself.”
I said, “I promise I will never betray your confidences. I will take them with me to the grave.”
He told me about some minor situations and watched my reaction. When I said, “I know what you’re going through. I can help you,” he proceeded slowly until he got to what he really wanted to discuss. I reminded him repeatedly that I admired him for confessing and wanting to change. Even though he seemed ready to run at any moment, together we got through what he needed to share.
Was it a big deal? It was to him. But as we talked, he came to better understand the mercy the Lord offers to those who sincerely repent. After that first visit, we worked together, and over time his repentance became complete. Today he still calls me to say hello, and our conversations are happy.
I was privileged to help him learn that we all depend on the Atonement. And I join my voice with his in praise of Jesus Christ, the one who really saved his life.