Gospel Story Finder

The role of bishop holds special significance for Elder Stevenson. “When I was 12, my father was called as bishop,” he recalls. “The ward had many widows, and Dad would often take me along when he ministered to them. He would have me take care of the garbage cans, clean up something in the house, or get my friends to join me in raking leaves or shoveling snow. When we left, I always felt good inside. Visiting the widows helped me realize that part of what bishops do is minister to people one on one. The bishops of the Church are my heroes.”
On the Tuesday prior to the October 2015 general conference, then-Bishop Stevenson received a call requesting that he meet with President Thomas S. Monson and his counselors.
“President Monson [extended] a call to the Quorum of the Twelve to me. He asked me if I would accept. … I responded affirmatively. And then … President Monson kindly reached out to me, describing how [when] he was called many years ago as an Apostle, … he too felt inadequate. He calmly instructed me, ‘Bishop Stevenson, the Lord will qualify those whom He calls.’ These soothing words of a prophet have been a source of peace [ever since].”4
Elder Gary E. Stevenson is truly a man without guile. As an Apostle, as he did as Presiding Bishop and as a Seventy and as he has done throughout his life, he will continue to reach out to the poor and needy. He will follow the scriptural charge to “succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees” (D&C 81:5). It is a challenging calling, but one to which he is well suited because of his understanding heart.

In the summer of 1885, almost one hundred years ago, Colenda Chrilla Rogers was living with her family in Pleasant Grove, Utah—the strawberry capital of pioneer Mormondom. During that summer Colenda sewed a dress for her mother, wrote letters for her Aunt Lizzie, helped with the farm work, did the family washing, walked to Provo to see a circus, went regularly to Sunday School, picked wild berries, cut and dried apples and peaches, went on outings with her chums, and in general helped out with the work of home and farm, village and church.
We know about Colenda’s work and fun that summer because she kept a diary. Nor was it uncommon for pioneer girls to keep diaries. A number of these are in the Church Archives in Salt Lake City, in university libraries, and in the possession of family descendants.

When Meliton arrived in Salt Lake, he ran into a problem. He could read English but had never spoken it. He couldn’t communicate with anyone! But he decided that if he couldn’t talk to people, he would get their attention another way. Meliton put on his Spanish Army uniform and marched up and down the city streets. Just as he hoped, many people noticed him! Finally he was spotted by a member of the Church named Brother Blanchard, a university professor who spoke Spanish. Brother Blanchard helped Meliton get settled in Salt Lake and taught him the gospel. Soon Meliton was baptized.

A few years ago, my wife and I were struggling with one of our young single adult children. A long series of events had left us emotionally drained. I regrettably remember saying, “I’m over it. I’m turning off the ‘I care’ switch.” For a few days, I felt better, detached, less stressed, and I thought I had found peace.

But then came Sunday.

I had recently read Elder Peter F. Meurs’s 2016 general conference talk, “The Sacrament Can Help Us Become Holy.” He offered five ways to deepen our worship:
Prepare in advance
Arrive early
Sing and learn from the sacrament hymn
Participate in the prayers
Remember Jesus as the emblems are passed

I tried to apply those teachings, but my heart was still heavy. Then came the opportunity to learn from the sacrament hymn. Verse 2 pierced my heart:
As now our minds review the past,
We know we must repent;
The way to thee is righteousness—
The way thy life was spent.
Forgiveness is a gift from thee
We seek with pure intent.

Immediately my heart turned not just to the Saviour but to my child. The Spirit whispered to me, “Call him and tell him you are sorry. Let him know you love him.”

After the meeting, I messaged: “I’m going to call you this afternoon, I need to talk. Please answer. I promise I won’t hassle you.”

I called and said, “I love you, Son. Please forgive me.” There was a period of silence, then his voice: “Aw, is that it? All good, I love you too. I’m sorry. How was your day?”

That moment was sacred. It was healing. It was the Saviour’s balm, and it came because I tried, however imperfectly, to build on the rock.

For some time, I felt unheard and unseen. Though I was surrounded by so many people, I yearned for one to notice me for who I was, yet it never happened. I always sought to feel a sense of belonging and a sense of purpose. Only when I started becoming older did my once-young mind begin to mature, and I slowly began to realize the true meaning of life.
It wasn’t just about being around people or trying to belong somewhere; it was about having that profound love and faith in Jesus Christ and God. I struggled heavily throughout Covid, battling my own battles as well as dealing with battles of those around me. I locked away my feelings from everyone, but what I didn’t realize was that there was always one person there for me, one who I ignored and didn’t let in.
It took a situation in my family’s life that has impacted me in more than one way for me to finally turn to Him. I found myself playing hymns on YouTube, listening to Church talks, and finally beginning my journey of reading and feasting on the words of the Book of Mormon.
Never in my life have I been so at peace and so loved. I feel seen and heard, and I know someone is there for me, maybe not physically there to give me a physical hug, but that spiritual hug that wraps around me daily. A scripture that resonates with me is found in John 3:16, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

Joseph F. Smith’s mother was known as “Widow Smith.” She was the widow of Hyrum Smith, who was martyred with the Prophet Joseph. She once rebuked the tithing clerk who stated that because of her poverty, she should not have to pay her tithing. She said: “‘Would you deny me a blessing? If I did not pay my tithing, I should expect the Lord to withhold his blessings from me. I pay my tithing, not only because it is a law of God, but because I expect a blessing by doing it. By keeping this and other laws, I expect to prosper, and to be able to provide for my family.’”
Did she prosper? Her son and grandson became presidents of the Church, and her descendants today include a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and many notable Church leaders.
Speaking of his mother, Joseph F. Smith once said she paid “tithes of her sheep and cattle, the tenth pound of her butter, her tenth chicken, the tenth of her eggs, the tenth pig, the tenth calf, the tenth colt—a tenth of everything she raised.”

Prison warden Kenyon J. Scudder related this experience:
A friend of his happened to be sitting in a railroad coach next to a young man who was obviously depressed. Finally the man revealed that he was a paroled convict returning from a distant prison. His imprisonment had brought shame to his family, and they had neither visited him nor written often. He hoped, however, that this was only because they were too poor to travel and too uneducated to write. He hoped, despite the evidence, that they had forgiven him.
To make it easy for them, however, he had written them to put up a signal for him when the train passed their little farm on the outskirts of town. If his family had forgiven him, they were to put a white ribbon in the big apple tree which stood near the tracks. If they didn’t want him to return, they were to do nothing; and he would remain on the train as it traveled west.
As the train neared his home town, the suspense became so great he couldn’t bear to look out of his window. He exclaimed, “In just five minutes the engineer will sound the whistle indicating our approach to the long bend which opens into the valley I know as home. Will you watch for the apple tree at the side of the track?” His companion changed places with him and said he would. The minutes seemed like hours, but then there came the shrill sound of the train whistle. The young man asked, “Can you see the tree? Is there a white ribbon?”
Came the reply: “I see the tree. I see not one white ribbon, but many. There is a white ribbon on every branch. Son, someone surely does love you.”
In that instant all the bitterness that had poisoned a life was dispelled. “I felt as if I had witnessed a miracle,” the other man said. Indeed, he had witnessed a miracle. We too can experience this same miracle when we, with hand and heart, as did the Savior, lift and love our neighbor to a newness of life.

These feelings bring a stake president to reach out, and miracles follow. A stake president from South America recounted an example of how this love moved him to seek after one who was lost:
“I had a strong impression that I needed to try to find a brother who had served many years before as my missionary companion. He was married and less active in the Church. His membership record was in a small unit 150 kilometers [93 miles] from the stake center. I traveled there and spoke with the branch president, who told me that my former missionary companion was living far out in the country. The president gave me directions to the small village. After a while the asphalt road turned into a dirt road. After many more kilometers, I realized I was lost. I stopped the car and was about to give up. It was a very hot day, and the car had no air conditioner. The dust from the road was difficult for my wife and children. I knelt on the road and asked for help from the Lord.
“Some hours later, we arrived in the small village and found my missionary companion. I invited him to come back. He became active in the Church and served in many leadership positions. His son served an honorable mission, and today my friend and former companion is a counselor in the bishopric.”

Seminary student Girly Mbuli explains how her faith and love of the scriptures saved her from a terrible situation.
“One day my friend Tiny Gugu and I had to go to Zondi to take some books to another girl. On our way back we saw a gang of boys. Gangs here rape girls, steal cars, do everything horrible. We started to run, but it was too late.
“The boys faced us. They had weapons. They made us go up on a hill and meant to do awful things to us. On the way up the hill, I was saying a prayer to my Heavenly Father. I don’t remember which scriptures I tried to say, but I kept thinking of them. I asked for help to be calm and not afraid. I felt peace come into my heart.
“When you are on top of that hill, you can see everything. The boys looked down and asked where I was staying. I pointed to Jabulane and something told me to say I was with my grandmother and my friend Lindiwe.
“The leader looked at me and said, ‘You are not afraid. Let them go!’ I later found out the brother of my friend Lindiwe is the boss of this gang, and he stays in the house of my grandmother. That is why they let us go free.
“When I tell this story to people, they refuse to believe we survived. But I know I did and I know why. It was because of my faith in Heavenly Father. I know that Isaiah 1:18 can be true for those guilty gang boys, if they will repent: “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow.” [Isa. 1:18]

This story happened in Mexico.
Javi liked learning to do new things. He liked learning to play baseball. He liked learning the guitar. He liked learning to play new video games. So when Papá asked if he wanted to learn something new, Javi was ready.
Javi watched Papá open his laptop and bring up a site called “FamilySearch.”
“I’m going to teach you how to find the names of our ancestors,” Papá said. “Many of them lived a long time ago, and they didn’t have the gospel. When we find their names, we can go to the temple to be baptized for them. Then they will have a chance to accept the gospel.”
Javi remembered how good he had felt when he was baptized. If he could help his ancestors feel the same way, he wanted to learn how!
Javi watched Papá show him what to do. Then Papá passed the laptop to Javi. “Your turn!”
Javi grinned. He practiced clicking around and reading the names and dates. This was his family!
For the next few nights, Mamá and Papá helped Javi learn more about doing family history work. His older sister Lily started to learn too. It felt like playing a video game with a very important quest!
One Sunday, the bishop announced that the stake was holding a special challenge. The stake members would have 60 days to find as many names as they could to send to the temple. The goal was a total of 5,000 names. At the end of the 60 days, there would be a big party to celebrate. There would also be awards for the people who had found the most names.
“I want to help,” Javi said when they got home from church.
“Me too!” Lily said.
“How about you start right now?” Papá said. “See how many names you can find before dinner.”
Javi and Lily raced to the front room. Lily opened FamilySearch on her phone, and Javi worked on Papá’s laptop. Soon he found a record for his great-grandfather’s brother. It also listed three children who hadn’t been baptized. Javi whooped. He had found three names to send to the temple!
For 60 days Javi spent most of his free time doing family history. He searched for names almost every night after school. On Sundays, his whole family worked on it together.
At the end of the 60 days, Javi and his family went to the church building for the party. There were tacos, music, and lots of people. It was fun!
Finally, the stake president stood up.
“I am so proud of everyone,” he said. “Our stake found 10,000 names for the temple!”
Everyone cheered. Javi’s eyes got wide. That was twice as many as their goal!
Then the stake president announced the winners. The adult winner was a woman Javi didn’t know, but the youth winner was Lily!
“Now for the children. We had someone send in 216 names,” said the stake president. The crowd clapped so loudly that Javi couldn’t hear what the stake president said next.
Javi’s father nudged him. “Javi, he said your name.”
Javi could hardly believe it. Had he really sent in 216 names?
Javi walked to the front. He smiled big as the stake president shook his hand and handed him a certificate. It had his name on it!
“How does it feel to win?” the stake president asked.
“Really good,” Javi said.
It did feel good to win. And it felt really good to have learned a way to help so many people!
Illustration by Josh Talbot

My wife, Mary, and I have someone we love dearly who has struggled for much of her life with certain aspects of the Church. She loves the gospel, and she loves the Church but still has questions. She is sealed in the temple, is active in the Church, fulfills her callings, and is a wonderful mother and wife. Through the years she has tried to do those things that she knew to be right and refrain from doing those things that she knew to be wrong. She has kept her covenants and continued to search. At times she has been grateful to hold on to the faith of others.
Not long ago her bishop asked to see her and her husband. He asked them to accept a temple assignment to act as proxies for those who needed temple ordinances. This calling surprised them, but they accepted and began their service in the house of the Lord. Their teenage son had recently participated in family history research and found a family name for whom temple ordinances had not been completed. In time they acted as proxies and did the temple ordinances for this person and his family. As they knelt at the altar and the sealing ordinance was performed, this wonderful, patient woman who has searched for so long had a private spiritual experience by which she came to know that the temple and the ordinances performed therein are true and real. She called her mother and told her of her experience and said that while she still has some questions, she knows that the temple is true, that temple ordinances are true, and that the Church is true. Her mother wept with gratitude for a loving, patient Heavenly Father and for a daughter who patiently continues to search.
Patient covenant keeping brings the blessings of heaven into our lives.17

Correction, hopefully gentle, can come from one’s spouse. Elder Richard G. Scott, who just addressed us, remembers a time early in his marriage when his wife, Jeanene, counseled him to look directly at people when he spoke to them. “You look at the floor, the ceiling, the window, anywhere but in their eyes,” she said. He took that gentle rebuke to heart, and it made him much more effective in counseling and working with people. As one who served as a full-time missionary under then President Scott’s direction, I can attest that he does look one squarely in the eye in his conversations. I can also add that when one needs correction, that look can be very penetrating.

I know another good man who was reared in a family without the blessings of the gospel. Through a series of unfortunate events in his early youth, he was introduced to homosexuality, and gradually he became a prisoner of this addictive behavior.
One day two young missionaries knocked on his door and asked if he would be interested in learning of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. In his heart of hearts he wanted to be freed from his prison of uncleanness, but feeling unable to change the direction his life had taken, he terminated the missionary discussions. Before leaving his apartment, the two elders left a copy of the Book of Mormon with him, and testified of its truthfulness.
My friend placed the book on his bookshelf and forgot about it for several years. He continued acting out his homosexual tendencies, assuming that such relationships would bring him happiness. But alas, with each passing year, his misery increased.
One day in the depths of despair, he scanned his bookshelf for something to read which might edify and uplift him and restore his self-worth. His eye caught hold of the book with a dark blue cover, which the missionaries had given him several years before. He began to read. On the second page of this book, he read of Father Lehi’s vision in which he was given a book to read, and “as he read, he was filled with the Spirit of the Lord” (1 Ne. 1:12). And as my good friend continued reading, he too was filled with the Spirit of the Lord.
He read King Benjamin’s benedictory challenge to undergo a mighty change of heart—not a little change, but a mighty change. He was given hope by the comforting conversion stories of Enos, Alma, Ammon, and Aaron. He was also inspired by the account of the Savior’s visit to the ancient Nephites. By the time he reached the final page of the Book of Mormon, he was prepared to accept Moroni’s loving invitation to “come unto Christ, and be perfected in him, and deny yourselves of all ungodliness” (Moro. 10:32).
My friend contacted the Church and was taught the gospel and was baptized. Within a relatively short time, he married a lovely young woman, and they are the parents of several beautiful children. He and his wife are very dynamic and committed servants of the Lord, influencing many others for good.

Growing up, I was always inclined to perfectionism. So when I received my patriarchal blessing, one admonition in particular seemed natural: to complete the tasks I was given “to the best of [my] ability, to perfection.” Only later would I start to realize how little I understood perfection—or the role of grace.
In 1998 I returned home early from a mission due to health problems. I felt a tremendous amount of guilt because I felt I had not completed my mission “to perfection.” Added to this sense of failure was uncertainty about my illness. So far, doctors had been unable to diagnose it.
In spite of my health challenges, I knew I needed to move forward, so I enrolled in a university to continue my education. After only two quarters, however, I returned home again, in pain, for urgent surgery. It was at this point that doctors discovered I had an autoimmune disease.
While I was recovering from surgery, I began working part-time at the chocolate store where I had been employed as a teenager. Even though I was doing what I could, I didn’t feel that I was pursuing anything worthwhile, much less completing it “to perfection.” I began to compare myself to others, especially to my friends who were completing their college degrees, serving missions, or starting families. I felt left behind.
Then I met Stephanie. She came into the candy store one day wearing a black scarf around her head. As I pointed out to her my favorite chocolate, I felt impressed to inquire about her situation. She smiled, removed her scarf, and, pointing to her bald head, told me she was going through chemotherapy. That exchange was the start of a special and candid friendship.
Stephanie came by the store regularly to enjoy a treat and talk about life. I learned that she was a member of the Church and that she had struggled spiritually as well as physically. She told me about some rebellious choices she had made and about her efforts to repent. She was working toward being sealed to her husband in the temple.
One day I shared some of my own challenges. I confided in her how discouraged I was by my circumstances. “I am scooping the same ice cream I scooped in high school,” I explained. “I didn’t complete my mission or college, and I don’t know what to do now.”
Stephanie responded, “Why do you have to finish the race of life in a set time? Why not just run the race?”
For the first time, I realized that the efforts I was making were my best, and my best was enough. The Savior loved me, and His grace, through His Atonement, was sufficient for me, for my deficiencies. Although I felt I had been looking to Him all along, until Stephanie shared her insight with me, I had somehow missed an important lesson about His role in my life.
Ether 12:27 says, “My grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.” As I have been able to humble myself and have faith in the Lord, I have seen over and over again that He does indeed make weak things become strong. My increased testimony of this truth has helped me face my challenges with greater faith and hope.
A few months after that conversation, I left my hometown to start a new job and lost contact with my friend. One day my mom called to tell me that she had seen Stephanie’s obituary in the newspaper. I came home to attend her funeral and learned she had been sealed to her husband just three weeks before her death.
My heart sighed with gratitude for having had Stephanie in my life and for what she taught me about running a perfect race. I don’t always need to sprint. Occasionally, it will be all I can do to simply face the finish line. Doing our best to move forward—no matter what speed “our best” is—is OK. Our efforts can be made perfect because the Lord’s grace is sufficient for us all (see Moroni 10:32).

It was a normal Friday. I was at work, driving a forklift as usual, when I suddenly lost control. There was hardly any noise when I crashed into the wall, but I felt a sudden, intense pain in my foot.
I looked down and realized my foot had been crushed between the wall and the forklift.
I started screaming for help, and I don’t remember much after that besides the sound of the ambulance siren and the anxiety of what was ahead.
At the hospital, I remember thinking there were too many nurses in the room. I was also terrified because I’m from Colombia and speak Spanish, and the nurses in the Utah hospital were speaking very quickly in English. I was having a hard time understanding them. Every second felt like an eternity. Yet I knew deep down that I was going to lose my foot, even before it was evaluated.
While waiting for a trauma surgeon, I thought about my nephew. He loved soccer, and I wanted to keep my foot to be able to play with him. And that was only one of many things I needed my foot for! After two surgeons evaluated my injury, they determined that the best way to reduce further complications was to amputate my foot. I knew it was the right decision, but I was devastated.
The next morning after surgery, life didn’t feel real. I had too many questions and too few answers. Yes, I was lucky to be alive, and the accident could have been much worse, but I also felt lost. My foot was gone, and I didn’t know what my life was going to be like from then on.
I spent 20 days in the hospital. My family and friends comforted and supported me through it, and I also started physical therapy and began the path to recovery and healing. I surprisingly had enough courage to accomplish a lot on that road to recovery in those 20 days, including starting to learn to walk with a prosthetic.
What I didn’t have the courage to do, though, was to pray. I felt like I couldn’t face God. I thought I was angry at Him, but in reality I was just ashamed of myself. In my mind, this whole “accident” seemed to be a punishment, partly because I had stopped going to church and I hadn’t been following His commandments, but mostly because I’ve experienced same-sex attraction for as long as I can remember. I mistakenly thought He was disappointed in and ashamed of me.
I was wounded both physically and spiritually.
When I was released from the hospital, my mental health suffered. Even though I had my family and friends around me, I still felt alone. I knew I needed Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ in order to heal, but I struggled to make myself pray.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I reached my breaking point and was willing to kneel down and pray for the first time in so long. I sobbed as I poured my heart out to Heavenly Father. I asked Him questions and told Him my concerns until I was out of breath.
Gradually, a feeling of peace filled me. And these words came to my heart and mind: “All these things will be for your good to refine your character. It was just an accident.”
Seriously?
Was this really just an accident? Not a punishment? That answer made no sense to me. But after a few days of pondering, I knew it was true. I also knew that Heavenly Father loved me. He had been calling me back to His flock for so long, and I was finally ready to return. I decided to go back to church and began an incredible, spiritually healing process with my loving bishop, who helped me fully invite the peace the Savior offers into my life.
Coming back to the Church was not easy. For so long, I had so much shame about myself. But the more I came to understand my divine identity, the less ashamed I felt. I know now that my feelings toward women don’t make me a sinner, and my amputation doesn’t limit my worth. These qualities do give me a different perspective and play a role in my spiritual growth. I also know that my perspective can bless others in the gospel. Through the Savior’s grace, I have been able to confidently accept that I am a child of God. I am loved completely. And Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were, are, and will always be ready to bless me as I turn to Them. Always.
Losing my foot and being gay have both brought some unexpected difficulties to my life. Sometimes I don’t even want to get out of bed knowing that I have to use my prosthetic foot. Striving to keep all of Heavenly Father’s commandments can be difficult at times too. Although it’s not the choice of everyone who experiences same-sex attraction, my personal choice is to aim for an eternal companion. I sometimes have discouraging thoughts that no man will ever be interested in marrying me because of my circumstances, but I trust Heavenly Father to work out those details and bless me if I keep my covenants with Him.
The uncertainty of my future can be discouraging at times. I know that these thoughts of inadequacy and doubt come from Satan. By turning to Christ, I find so much peace and joy, and the strength I need to overcome these thoughts.
I now rely on God to direct my life. In this process, I’m also learning how to connect with both women and men in deeper, more meaningful ways within the bounds the Lord has set. He has helped me increase my trust that someday He will make it possible for me to find a man whom I can love and be sealed to. But whatever happens, I have learned to value who I am and to accept my life and trust in the blessings He has in store for me.
Throughout my life, I’ve learned that everyone faces difficult, unfair, and sometimes painful experiences that they don’t fully understand. We will all be wounded in some way. But now I also know that our individual experiences can bring us closer to the Savior and help us understand His limitless power in our lives.
Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “At a time of enormous suffering, the Lord told the Prophet Joseph, ‘All these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.’ How can painful wounds be for our good? In the crucible of earthly trials, patiently move forward, and the Savior’s healing power will bring you light, understanding, peace, and hope.”1
For me, being an amputee and being attracted to women started out as painful experiences. But they have helped me come unto Christ, and He has brought me peace. I now understand that neither of these experiences makes me less of a person. Neither keeps me from obtaining all the blessings of the plan of salvation. And neither will prevent me from finding the true happiness that comes from following Jesus Christ and keeping His commandments the best that I can.
I really don’t know what will happen in my future or what other challenges I will have to face until I return to the presence of my Heavenly Father. But I do know this: Any challenge we face or wound we have—whether mental, emotional, physical, or spiritual—can be healed as we turn to the Savior. He can help us find hope and strength in our struggles on earth. And He has promised that on the day of Resurrection, our bodies, minds, and hearts will be healed completely (see Alma 42; 11:42–44).
I needed to heal from my feelings of shame and inadequacy regarding my same-sex attraction and also from the physical and mental repercussions of my amputation. And I have experienced Christ’s healing power and continue to daily as I choose Him. He has helped me love myself and find fulfillment in living His gospel. If you choose to follow Him and put your life in God’s hands, you will recognize refinement in yourself, guidance in all things, love, and true peace (see Alma 42:13).

After school one day Yuriya Kitahara’s friends wanted to show her a new comic book. It took only a moment for Yuriya, a Laurel, to realize that there was nothing funny about these comics—the book was pornographic.
Around the same time, Junko Saijo, a Mia Maid, was with her friends when one of them lit a cigarette and offered it to Junko.
Not long after, a group of students at Sho Watanabe’s school was arrested for selling drugs to other students.
Fortunately, Yuriya dropped the comic book. Junko refused the cigarette. And Sho, a priest, has tried to be careful in choosing his friends.
Though the Church is growing in Japan, these teens still have to face the temptations of the world every day. That’s part of the test we came to earth to take. The question is: are we up to the challenge? And if we aren’t, how can we be?
Breaking the Word of Wisdom is a common temptation in Tokyo, according to a group of young members from different stakes who have gotten together to talk about the challenges they face.
Several of the youth were faced with the temptation of tobacco as soon as they were teenagers. Others are lucky enough to have avoided it altogether so far. Not everyone faces the same temptations. But tobacco is a common trap for Tokyo teens.
“It’s so easy to buy tobacco here; it’s difficult for some not to buy it,” says Hikaru Watanabe, a deacon and Sho’s younger brother.
Alcohol is another problem presented early on to many youth.
“After a school activity ends, all the students usually go somewhere to have a party,” says Yuriya. “Sometimes my friends ask me to go. They don’t say they’re going to drink, but to many teens, going to a party means going to drink. They don’t think that’s bad.” The other youth all nod in agreement—they’ve been in similar situations.
The teens also agree that pornography and immorality are running rampant among their peers.
“Music is getting bad too,” says Keiko Saijo, a Laurel and Junko’s older sister. “The lyrics are just awful.”
These are temptations and challenges Latter-day Saint teens are facing all around the world. What are they doing about it? They are learning that through the gospel, they can find the strength they need to overcome all their challenges.
The youth agree that to overcome the temptations thrown at them every day, they need the guidance of the Holy Ghost.
“It’s not just my own strength, but relying on the Lord that gets me through,” says priest Yuuya Kitahara, Yuriya’s younger brother. “Coming closer to the Lord helps us avoid the temptations and overcome them.”
That is a valuable lesson. “If we don’t do things to be closer to the Spirit, we would probably end up just like many youth outside of the Church, smoking, watching pornography, and worse,” says Yuriya.
It’s a lesson taught several times in the Book of Mormon. Without the Spirit of the Lord, the Nephites became “weak, like unto their brethren, the Lamanites” (Helaman 4:24; see also Mosiah 1:13; Mormon 2:26).
“When I feel the Spirit, I feel like the temptations just go away,” says Hikaru. “That strength comes from the Spirit.”
Yuuya says praying morning and night helps bring the Spirit. Yuriya feels closer to the Holy Ghost by studying the scriptures every day. Yuuya’s twin brother, Yuuki, mentions youth activities and seminary. And Junko says going to church and family home evening have not only helped her feel the Spirit but have taught her ways to overcome temptations. And each says attending the temple has made a big difference. “I feel a special power when I come to the temple of the Lord,” says Sho. He says he can resist temptations better when he goes to the temple regularly.
For the past few years, Sho and Hikaru have tried to go to the temple every Thursday to perform baptisms for the dead. Keiko and Junko, and Yuriya and her brothers try to attend every Friday.
“Coming to the temple strengthens me,” Keiko says.

In October 2020, President Nelson said, “Anytime we do anything that helps anyone—on either side of the veil—to make and keep their covenants with God, we are helping to gather Israel.”1
This message from our prophet came to my heart with so much power, and our family wanted to fill this purpose.
A few days before general conference, my youngest son, Tomas, had his dental evaluation for his mission papers. After some delays, he received his call to serve in the England Leeds Mission.
On Sunday 18 March 2021, he gave his farewell speech. He focused his message on loving the Lord and our neighbours, and how important this is in missionary work. Because of some COVID-19 restrictions, it was only Elder Tomas Flores, Daniel (my other son, who has Down syndrome), and me on the stand with the bishopric. My husband and my daughter stayed with the congregation.
Before Elder Tomas Flores started his talk, I told him that Daniel was probably going to follow him—and he did. He stood up behind Tomas. It was like Daniel was his guardian angel. In that moment, I had the feeling that Daniel also needed to serve a mission. After church, I shared my feeling with my husband, and he had had the exact feeling at the same time.
On 23 March 2022, Elder Daniel Flores was set apart to be a service missionary in the Leeds England, Manchester, and Scotland/Ireland missions. He loves to be a missionary. Although he is mostly nonverbal, we communicate with our eyes. He is always willing to help everyone. Most of his service is within service projects in the ward, but he also serves taking pictures for BillionGraves. Our whole family is having a spiritual time with him during this.
Elder Flores really loves to serve others, and he loves Jesus Christ.
Both brothers are serving the Lord at the same time, in different missions, but with the same purpose: to bring people to Christ by serving as the Saviour would.

The story is about a girl named Eva. There are two important things you should know about Eva. One is that she was 11 years old in this story. And the other is that she absolutely, positively did not want to go and live with her great-aunt Rose. Not at all. No way.

But Eva’s mother was going to have surgery that required a lengthy recovery. So Eva’s parents were sending her to spend the summer with Great-Aunt Rose.

In Eva’s mind, there were a thousand reasons why this was a bad idea. For one thing, it would mean being away from her mother. It would also mean leaving her family and friends. And besides, she didn’t even know Great-Aunt Rose. She was quite comfortable, thank you very much, right where she was.

But no amount of arguing or eye-rolling could change the decision. So Eva packed up a suitcase and took the long drive with her father to Great-Aunt Rose’s house.

From the moment Eva stepped inside the house, she hated it.

Everything was so old! Every inch was packed with old books, strange-colored bottles, and plastic bins spilling over with beads, bows, and buttons.

Great-Aunt Rose lived there alone; she had never married. The only other inhabitant was a gray cat who liked to find the highest point in every room and perch there, staring like a hungry tiger at everything below.

Even the house itself seemed lonely. It was out in the countryside, where the houses are far apart. No one Eva’s age lived within half a mile. That made Eva feel lonely too.

At first she didn’t pay much attention to Great-Aunt Rose. She mostly thought about her mother. Sometimes, she would stay awake at night, praying with all her soul that her mother would be well. And though it didn’t happen right away, Eva began to feel that God was watching over her mother.

Word finally came that the operation was a success, and now all that was left for Eva to do was to endure till the end of summer. But oh, how she hated enduring!

With her mind now at ease about her mother, Eva began to notice Great-Aunt Rose a little more. She was a large woman—everything about her was large: her voice, her smile, her personality. It wasn’t easy for her to get around, but she always sang and laughed while she worked, and the sound of her laughter filled the house. Every night she sat down on her overstuffed sofa, pulled out her scriptures, and read out loud. And as she read, she sometimes made comments like “Oh, he shouldn’t have done that!” or “What wouldn’t I give to have been there!” or “Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard!” And every evening as the two of them knelt by Eva’s bed to pray, Great-Aunt Rose would say the most beautiful prayers, thanking her Heavenly Father for the blue jays and the spruce trees, the sunsets and the stars, and the “wonder of being alive.” It sounded to Eva as though Rose knew God as a friend.

Over time, Eva made a surprising discovery: Great-Aunt Rose was quite possibly the happiest person she had ever known!

But how could that be?

What did she have to be happy about?

She had never married, she had no children, she had no one to keep her company except that creepy cat, and she had a hard time doing simple things like tying her shoes and walking up stairs.

When she went to town, she wore embarrassingly big, bright hats. But people didn’t laugh at her. Instead, they crowded around her, wanting to talk to her. Rose had been a schoolteacher, and it wasn’t uncommon for former students—now grown up with children of their own—to stop and chat. They thanked her for being a good influence in their lives. They often laughed. Sometimes they even cried.

As the summer progressed, Eva spent more and more time with Rose. They went on long walks, and Eva learned the difference between sparrows and finches. She picked wild elderberries and made marmalade from oranges. She learned about her great-great-grandmother who left her beloved homeland, sailed across an ocean, and walked across the plains to be with the Saints.

Soon Eva made another startling discovery: not only was Great-Aunt Rose one of the happiest persons she knew, but Eva herself was happier whenever she was around her.

The days of summer were passing more quickly now. Before Eva knew it, Great-Aunt Rose said it would soon be time for Eva to return home. Though Eva had been looking forward to that moment since the day she arrived, she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it now. She realized she was actually going to miss this strange old house with the stalker cat and her beloved great-aunt Rose.

The day before her father arrived to pick her up, Eva asked the question she had been wondering about for weeks: “Aunt Rose, why are you so happy?”

Aunt Rose looked at her carefully and then guided her to a painting that hung in the front room. It had been a gift from a talented dear friend.

“What do you see there?” she asked.

Eva had noticed the painting before, but she hadn’t really looked at it closely. A girl in pioneer dress skipped along a bright blue path. The grass and trees were a vibrant green. Eva said, “It’s a painting of a girl. Looks like she’s skipping.”

“Yes, it is a pioneer girl skipping along happily,” Aunt Rose said. “I imagine there were many dark and dreary days for the pioneers. Their life was so hard—we can’t even imagine. But in this painting, everything is bright and hopeful. This girl has a spring in her step, and she is moving forward and upward.”

Eva was silent, so Great-Aunt Rose continued: “There is enough that doesn’t go right in life, so anyone can work themselves into a puddle of pessimism and a mess of melancholy. But I know people who, even when things don’t work out, focus on the wonders and miracles of life. These folks are the happiest people I know.”

“But,” Eva said, “you can’t just flip a switch and go from sad to happy.”

“No, perhaps not,” Aunt Rose smiled gently, “but God didn’t design us to be sad. He created us to have joy!3 So if we trust Him, He will help us to notice the good, bright, hopeful things of life. And sure enough, the world will become brighter. No, it doesn’t happen instantly, but honestly, how many good things do? Seems to me that the best things, like homemade bread or orange marmalade, take patience and work.”

Eva thought about it a moment and said, “Maybe it’s not so simple for people who don’t have everything perfect in their lives.”

“Dear Eva, do you really think that my life is perfect?” Aunt Rose sat with Eva on the overstuffed sofa. “There was a time when I was so discouraged I didn’t want to go on.”

“You?” Eva asked.

Aunt Rose nodded. “There were so many things I wished for in my life.” As she spoke, a sadness entered her voice that Eva had never heard before. “Most of them never happened. It was one heartbreak after another. One day I realized that it would never be the way I had hoped for. That was a depressing day. I was ready to give up and be miserable.”

“So what did you do?”

“Nothing for a time. I was just angry. I was an absolute monster to be around.” Then she laughed a little, but it was not her usual big, room-filling laugh. “‘It’s not fair’ was the song I sang over and over in my head. But eventually I discovered something that turned my whole life around.”

“What was it?”

“Faith,” Aunt Rose smiled. “I discovered faith. And faith led to hope. And faith and hope gave me confidence that one day everything would make sense, that because of the Savior, all the wrongs would be made right. After that, I saw that the path before me wasn’t as dreary and dusty as I had thought. I began to notice the bright blues, the verdant greens, and the fiery reds, and I decided I had a choice—I could hang my head and drag my feet on the dusty road of self-pity, or I could have a little faith, put on a bright dress, slip on my dancing shoes, and skip down the path of life, singing as I went.” Now her voice was skipping along like the girl in the painting.

Aunt Rose reached over to the end table and pulled her well-worn scriptures onto her lap. “I don’t think I was clinically depressed—I’m not sure you can talk yourself out of that. But I sure had talked myself into being miserable! Yes, I had some dark days, but all my brooding and worrying wasn’t going to change that—it was only making things worse. Faith in the Savior taught me that no matter what happened in the past, my story could have a happy ending.”

“How do you know that?” Eva asked.

Aunt Rose turned a page in her Bible and said, “It says it right here:

“‘God … will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God.

“‘And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.’”4

Great-Aunt Rose looked at Eva. Her smile was wide as she whispered, with a slight quiver in her voice, “Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard?”

It really did sound beautiful, Eva thought.

Aunt Rose turned a few pages and pointed to a verse for Eva to read: “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.”5

“With such a glorious future,” Aunt Rose said, “why get swallowed up in past or present things that don’t go quite the way we planned?”

Eva furrowed her brow. “But wait a minute,” she said. “Are you saying that being happy means just looking forward to happiness in the future? Is all our happiness in eternity? Can’t some of it happen now?”

“Oh, of course it can!” Aunt Rose exclaimed. “Dear child, now is part of eternity. It doesn’t only begin after we die! Faith and hope will open your eyes to the happiness that is placed before you.

“I know a poem that says, ‘Forever—is composed of Nows.’6 I didn’t want my forever to be composed of dark and fearful ‘Nows.’ And I didn’t want to live in the gloom of a bunker, gritting my teeth, closing my eyes, and resentfully enduring to the bitter end. Faith gave me the hope I needed to live joyfully now!”

“So what did you do then?” Eva asked.

“I exercised faith in God’s promises by filling my life with meaningful things. I went to school. I got an education. That led me to a career that I loved.”

Eva thought about this for a moment and said, “But surely being busy isn’t what made you happy. There are a lot of busy people who aren’t happy.”

“How can you be so wise for someone so young?” Aunt Rose asked. “You’re absolutely right. And most of those busy, unhappy people have forgotten the one thing that matters most in all the world—the thing Jesus said is the heart of His gospel.”

“And what is that?” Eva asked.

“It is love—the pure love of Christ,” Rose said. “You see, everything else in the gospel—all the shoulds and the musts and the thou shalts—lead to love. When we love God, we want to serve Him. We want to be like Him. When we love our neighbors, we stop thinking so much about our own problems and help others to solve theirs.”7

“And that is what makes us happy?” Eva asked.

Great-Aunt Rose nodded and smiled, her eyes filling with tears. “Yes, my dear. That is what makes us happy.”

The next day Eva hugged her great-aunt Rose and thanked her for everything she had done. She returned home to her family and her friends and her house and her neighborhood.

But she was never quite the same.

As Eva grew older, she often thought of the words of her great-aunt Rose. Eva eventually married, raised children, and lived a long and wonderful life.

And one day, as she was standing in her own home, admiring a painting of a girl in pioneer dress skipping down a bright blue path, she realized that somehow she had reached the same age her great-aunt Rose was during that remarkable summer.

When she realized this, she felt a special prayer swell within her heart. And Eva felt grateful for her life, for her family, for the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and for that summer so long ago when Great-Aunt Rose8 taught her about faith, hope, and love.9

She chooses the plate the way a painter selects a canvas. She wraps several flavors of Mediterranean olives in carefully selected slices of dry sausage, and does the same with salad greens. She places four types of cheese in the foreground, with an oriental ladle holding a sauce made of fruit and mustard. As her personal signature, she adds an apple, carefully cut and sculpted into the shape of a swan. The swan is a symbol with deep meaning to her.
When Lya was a young girl growing up in Tehuacan, Mexico, she saw a food magazine that inspired her. “On the front cover was a beautiful white swan carved from jicama (an edible root) and on the back was an exquisite turkey made from pieces of watermelon and other fruit,” she says. “I can still remember the artistry of those sculptures. The image of them stayed in my mind, and a voice inside me said, ‘Someday, you will make one of those.’” It wasn’t until years later, in a professional cooking class, that Lya was trained to carve a swan exactly like the one she had seen so long before.
Today, Lya is fulfilling her lifelong dream to serve others (literally) by preparing beautiful, nutritious food. In Europe and the U.S. she counsels cooks about the quality of their meals, prepares fancy dinners at gourmet restaurants and in people’s homes, and also teaches cooking and nutrition classes. She is known for the excellent food she prepares and the way she presents it. “Food is art,” she says. “Having it look good is part of having it taste good.”
But getting where she wanted to be has not been, shall we say, a piece of cake.
“My parents wanted me to be a doctor,” she says. After counseling with them and praying, she finally agreed she would study nutrition. That would allow her to be around food and yet still be involved in a medically related field. After college, she began work as a nutritionist in Mexico City. She loved the working environment and the people, but she still longed to be a chef. After giving the job a fair chance, she counseled with her parents again and mapped out a new plan.
“I prayed to Heavenly Father and asked Him to guide me,” she says. “Then I did all the research I could about culinary schools.” She saved money, studied English as a second language, then enrolled in a cooking school in London, England. That opened up the opportunity for her to also have apprenticeships—if she would work without pay. She did and gained experience as well as forming friendships with several of the top chefs in the world.
“Working without pay was hard,” she says. “I had to cater private dinners on the side to pay my way through school.” She also found a job at a restaurant equipment company in France, preparing meals and demonstrating professional ovens. For a year and a half, between school and work and various apprenticeships in two countries, her days were filled with long, hard work. “I had to pay the rent, and I had to pay for transportation, but I always had food because I was always allowed to eat in the restaurants.”
She also kept her standards high. “Living the Word of Wisdom was less of a challenge than some people might think,” she says. “For example, when people invited me to have a glass of wine, which is a big part of the restaurant business, I explained that I don’t drink alcohol. They respected that. And when people would party or suggest immoral activities, I would explain that my standards were different. We were colleagues at work, but I didn’t hang out with them in places that would bring me down.”
Lya and her husband, who is also a chef, offer this advice about careers: “Find something you love doing and that you’ll want to do for your entire life. Set goals and work hard, then pray, be humble, and follow your heart.”

Durban’s dedication weekend served as a homecoming for Elder and Sister Cook, who had resided in South Africa as he served five years in the Africa Southeast Area presidency, including the last three as president. He had presided at the Durban temple’s groundbreaking on April 6, 2016.
“Four years ago, Sister Cook and I climbed the hill where the Durban temple was to be built, along with many others who attended the groundbreaking,” he recalled of the beautiful, clear day.
“There was a feeling of awe as we sat on that empty hillside. We looked out over the valley and out to the ocean and realized that in a few short years, a temple would rise up on that ground. To have the sacred privilege of returning for the dedication of the Durban temple that has been built up to the Lord is very humbling. I am filled with joy.”