Gospel Story Finder

In 1999 our oldest son passed away. He left behind a wife and a one-year-old daughter with whom we had a fun relationship and wonderful, weekly interactions.
Because of tragic circumstances, our granddaughter’s third birthday was the last time we had any communication with her. For many years, we prayed, fasted, and hoped we would somehow be able to see her again.
During the October 2018 general conference, President Russell M. Nelson made an invitation with a promise: “I urge you to find a way to make an appointment regularly with the Lord—to be in His holy house—then keep that appointment with exactness and joy. I promise you that the Lord will bring the miracles He knows you need as you make sacrifices to serve and worship in His temples.”
When I heard these words, I felt that Heavenly Father was speaking to me through His prophet. So, my husband and I committed to begin attending the temple every Tuesday and keep that commitment “with exactness and joy.”
One day in 2019, our then-21-year-old granddaughter unexpectedly messaged me online. Her communication came slowly at first, but as her messages continued, she began to ask questions that opened a marvelous line of dialogue. She allowed us into her life tentatively at first and then often.
In 2021 we invited her to spend Thanksgiving with our family. She accepted, and we had a wonderful time getting to know her. She easily bonded with her aunts, uncles, and cousins. She wanted her Thanksgiving visit to become a tradition.
A year later, an estranged son reconnected with us. In March 2024, for the first time in our family’s life, we had a family reunion that included every living child, their spouses, and all 16 grandchildren.
I have always believed that the prophet speaks for the Lord. I believe that this much-needed miracle came because of President Nelson’s revealed guidance and promise.
My testimony and love for my Heavenly Father and His Son were not, and are not, contingent upon this miracle. I am amazed, however, at how personal Their love is for me and how powerful Their promises are that come through the prophet.

Such discipleship was beautifully demonstrated in recent events in Mexico.
It had been a beautiful spring for the fruit-growing communities in northern Mexico. The fruit trees were in full bloom, and expectations were high for a bounteous harvest. Plans were already being made to pay off loans, replace needed equipment and aging orchards, and meet personal commitments such as school tuition for family members. Plans were even being made for family vacations. There was a general air of optimism. Then, on a Monday afternoon in late March, a winter storm moved in, and it began to snow. It snowed until about three o’clock in the morning. Then, as the clouds moved out, the temperature plummeted. Throughout the night and early morning, every effort was made to save at least a part of the fruit crop. It was all to no avail. It simply got too cold, and the crop was totally frozen. There would be no fruit to be harvested and sold this year. Tuesday dawned with the sickening and disheartening loss of all those wonderful plans, expectations, and dreams of just the day before.
I received an email regarding that terrible Tuesday morning from Sandra Hatch, the wife of John Hatch, then-first counselor in the presidency of the Colonia Juárez Chihuahua Temple. I quote portions of that email: “John got up early—about 6:30—to run up to the temple to see if we should cancel the session this morning. He came back saying that the parking lot and road were clear, so we decided to go ahead. We figured that maybe some of the workers who didn’t have orchards would come, and we could put all the workers into the session. … It was so inspiring to see the men come in, one after another. There they were, after no sleep at all, and figuring their crops were lost. … I was watching them during our preparation meeting, and they were having a hard time staying awake. But instead of figuring they had a good excuse to not come, they were there. And there were 38 people in the session (a full session)! It was an uplifting morning for us, and we thanked Heavenly Father for good people who do their duty, no matter what happens. I felt a special spirit there this morning. I am sure He was pleased to know that we love His house and felt that it was a good place to be on such a difficult morning.”

As I conclude my remarks, may I share with you an experience of several years ago which depicted the strength of you dear sisters in Relief Society.
During 1980, the sesquicentennial year of the organization of the Church, each member of the Relief Society general board was asked to write a personal letter to the sisters of the Church in the year 2030—50 years hence. The following is an excerpt from the letter written by Sister Helen Lee Goates:
“Our world of 1980 is filled with uncertainty, but I am determined to live each day with faith and not fear, to trust the Lord and to follow the counsel of our prophet today. I know that God lives, and I love Him with all my soul. I am so grateful that the gospel was restored to the earth 150 years ago and that I can enjoy the blessings of membership in this great Church. I am grateful for the priesthood of God, having felt its power throughout my life.
“I am at peace in my world and pray that you may be sustained in yours by firm testimonies and unwavering convictions of the gospel of Jesus Christ.”
Helen Lee Goates passed away in April of the year 2000. Shortly before her impending death from cancer, Sister Monson and I visited with her and her husband and family. She appeared calm and at peace. She told us she was prepared to go and looked forward to seeing once again her parents and other loved ones who had preceded her. In her life Sister Goates exemplified the nobility of Latter-day Saint women. In her passing she personified your theme: “If ye are prepared ye shall not fear.”

Recently, you may have read about Sister Ella Hoskins, who at 100 years old was called to help the young women in her ward with Personal Progress. About two years later, at 102, Sister Hoskins earned her Young Womanhood Recognition award. The young women, the ward and stake Young Women and Relief Society presidencies, and family members gathered together to celebrate her accomplishment. Boundaries of age, organization, and marital status faded away in faithful service. Young women expressed gratitude for Sister Hoskins, for her teaching, and for her righteous example. They want to be like her. Afterward, I asked Sister Hoskins, “How did you do it?”
She promptly responded, “I repent every day.”
From a gentle lady, so full of the Spirit of the Lord that she glowed with pure light, I was reminded that to shine with the beauty of holiness, to stand with the Savior, and to bless others, we must be clean. Purity is possible through the grace of Christ as we deny ungodliness and choose to love God with might, mind, and strength. The Apostle Paul taught, “Flee … youthful lusts: … follow righteousness, faith, charity, peace, with them that call on the Lord out of a pure heart.” None of us is perfect. We have all made mistakes. But we repent so that we may be better and “retain the name [of Christ] written always in [our] hearts.” When we serve in the name of the Lord, with purity of heart, we reflect the Savior’s love and give others a glimpse of heaven.

After eight years of not attending church, Paulo (all names have been changed) received a phone call from his bishop in Brazil asking how he was doing. Paulo had longed to return, but many concerns kept him from full activity. How could he avoid comparing himself, still single, to those married with children? Would he find any friends at church after so long and, if he did, what would they think of him? Would he still be able to feel the Spirit like he had during his conversion and mission or have enough faith to accept callings?
One month after the phone call, Paulo watched President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, give a conference talk called, “Come, Join with Us.”1 “That talk hit me hard,” he recalls, and within a few weeks he found himself sitting in the church parking lot, trembling and offering a silent prayer for the strength to get out of the car and enter the building.
“Everything wasn’t perfect,” he recalls of his first year after returning. It wasn’t easy to fit in. Yet a feeling of connectedness to the Savior and a strong desire for a temple recommend helped him overcome his insecurities. He began reading his scriptures and praying again. “If you don’t give up, you gain strength and can feel the Lord blessing you,” he advises those who struggle to feel accepted. “I have a testimony that this is Christ’s Church, but it’s in Him you will find true belonging.”

Sometimes cities and nations bear special labels of identity. Such was a cold and very old city in eastern Canada. The missionaries called it “Stony Kingston.” There had been but one convert to the Church in six years, even though missionaries had been continuously assigned there during the entire interval. No one baptized in Kingston. Just ask any missionary who labored there. Time in Kingston was marked on the calendar like days in prison. A missionary transfer to another place—any place—would be uppermost in thoughts, even in dreams.
While I was praying about and pondering this sad dilemma, for my responsibility then as a mission president required that I pray and ponder about such things, my wife called to my attention an excerpt from the book A Child’s Story of the Prophet Brigham Young. She read aloud that Brigham Young (1801–77) entered Kingston, Ontario, on a cold and snow-filled day. He labored there about 30 days and baptized 45 souls.9 Here was the answer. If the missionary Brigham Young could accomplish this harvest, so could the missionaries of today.
Without providing an explanation, I withdrew the missionaries from Kingston, that the cycle of defeat might be broken. Then the carefully circulated word: “Soon a new city will be opened for missionary work, even the city where Brigham Young proselyted and baptized 45 persons in 30 days.” The missionaries speculated as to the location. Their weekly letters pleaded for the assignment to this Shangri-la. More time passed. Then four carefully selected missionaries—two of them new, two of them experienced—were chosen for this high adventure. The members of the small branch pledged their support. The missionaries pledged their lives. The Lord honored both.
In the space of three months, Kingston became the most productive city of the Canadian Mission. The grey limestone buildings still stood; the city had not altered its appearance; the population remained constant. The change was one of attitude. The label of doubt yielded to the label of faith.

Once when I was playing soccer goalie at school, I missed the ball. Someone yelled, “You’re such a bad goalie!” I didn’t feel very good after I heard that. I ran into one of the bathroom stalls and started crying. After I said a prayer, I felt much better and went back to playing soccer. I’m glad I can remember that special day when I felt the Holy Ghost help me for the first time.
Alli S., age 6, Lima, Peru

All the Smith children grew up with a rich supply of love—and nearly as much work. School sometimes had to wait while chores around the family farm were done or the boys worked to help bring some money into the family. For a short time, when he was about thirteen years old, Hyrum was able to attend school in Hanover, New Hampshire. But classes there ended abruptly for him when an epidemic of typhus fever broke out, for Hyrum was needed at home to help care for his sick family.
Young Joseph had the fever, and the infection moved to his leg. Caring for her sick children had weakened Mother Smith until she, too, became ill. Since Hyrum was a trustworthy boy and had unusual tenderness and sympathy, he was allowed to care for his little brother. Much of each day and night for many days Hyrum sat holding his brother’s affected leg in his hands, pressing it between them, to help ease the pain. Hyrum’s loving care undoubtedly helped Joseph recover, and it strengthened the bond between them.

But Karen had a friend named Nese. Nese never said more than “Hi” to me in the halls, but she had paid close attention to my conversations with Karen.
Nese never told me directly that she was a Latter-day Saint. She strolled up to my table in the library one day during study hall. “May I sit down?” she asked. At some point during the conversation, she said she was a member of the house of Israel. I assumed she meant she was Jewish.
We had study hall at the same hour, and during the remaining months of our senior year, Nese and I sorted through the many religious questions flooding my mind. She told me later she “just wanted to share her opinion with someone who wouldn’t laugh at her.” I would voice my ideas on a subject like life after death, and then she would explain her beliefs. Her confidence amazed me. It wasn’t until later that I found out she was a Latter-day Saint.
By then our talks were so enjoyable I began spending lunch hours with Nese and her Mormon friends. They were refreshing to be around. No smoking, no swearing, no off-color jokes. Best of all, they never seemed to put anybody down—they respected each other’s feelings. It was different being with them, and I enjoyed it.
Toward the end of the school year, Karen invited me to a Gold and Green Ball, whatever that was! I had never been to a dance in a church, and I had to dress in a suit! I was amazed to see a gym in a church building.
But what went on in the gym surprised me even more. Adults and teenagers were talking, laughing, and even dancing together. My friends had always thought it was “uncool” to like your parents. All over the nation there was an uproar about communication breakdown between parents and their children. But these people all seemed to be friends, regardless of age.
I asked Karen about it. She said it was because of the Church. As she took me on a tour of the building, I pondered what she had said. By the time I went home that night, I felt these people were unique, choice in some way I didn’t fully understand. They had a lot to be proud of.
After graduation my summer job stole me from my new-found group of friends. I was employed at a gas station, where I was nearly starved by my co-workers’ lack of concern. I was depressed, unhappy, and alone.
One afternoon in July, Nese and a friend drove up to the station. Just seeing them boosted my morale. They were planning to sing in the Oakland Temple Pageant and invited me to attend.
I’ll always remember that special evening. It was the first time I heard the story of Joseph Smith and learned the history of the Latter-day Saints I had grown to admire. At the end of the pageant, the audience rose and sang “The Spirit of God Like a Fire is Burning.” How I wanted to know the words of the song so I could join the chorus! I felt completely full of respect and love.
The crowd left slowly. Standing in the parking lot, I looked up at the temple. A voice in the back of my mind told me that some day I would enter that building.
When fall came, Nese left to attend Brigham Young University. I returned to Berkeley. Loneliness encompassed me again. Nese’s letters arrived regularly, two or three times weekly. I asked her why she was Mormon. The next letter bulged the envelope. It was a detailed explanation of her struggle to remain active and maintain a firm testimony while living with her inactive family.
I decided I had to go to church. That was a difficult decision because no one pushed me to attend. I had been allowed to come to the conclusion on my own.
I nearly changed my mind when I opened the door. I entered the chapel by myself, spotted an empty seat on the back row, and quickly sat down. Not all alone here, too! I wondered inside.
Then suddenly Karen, who had appeared from nowhere, was shaking my hand. “Good morning, David,” she said, grinning. I wasn’t alone anymore. She introduced me to people, showed me which class to go to, and sat beside me the entire time.
I was impressed to find a class I could bring my questions to and get answers. To top it off, the teacher, Sister Booras, took time afterwards to thank me for coming. “You added a great deal to our class,” she said. I had never felt so at home before.
But I still didn’t have that spiritual testimony all the Church members kept telling me about. I liked the Church; I could believe in many of its teachings, but I didn’t know it was true. I kept attending the meetings anyway.
One month later, Nese urged me to come to BYU. I jumped at the chance and rushed to Provo for a whirlwind visit. She described her school as if it were part of her. As we walked around campus, all we talked about was religion. My mind was overflowing with questions again, as it had been in the high school library. I still didn’t see how everything fit together.
The stone in my path was the principle of eternal progression. “It’s no good,” I said. “How can man, who was created by God, ever hope to be a god?”
We were standing in front of the Joseph Smith Building. Nese paused for a moment.
“Dave,” she said, “before we were ever created physically, we were created spiritually as God’s sons and daughters. A part of us, our spirit, comes directly from him as our Father.”
It finally clicked! It all fell into place. My grin spread to a smile and erupted as a laugh. I couldn’t stop grinning. My mind jumped from doctrine to doctrine. “Yes, yes, it all fits!” I wanted to dance or sing or run.
There, on the steps of the Joseph Smith Building, the Spirit bore witness to me of the gospel plan. I knew in my heart I would join the Church.
I still had to read the Book of Mormon, learn to pray, and take the missionary discussions. But my life was changed from that moment on. I had found truth, purpose, and a life to fulfill. Five weeks later I was baptized.
Eighteen months later, my impression that I would one day enter the Oakland Temple came true, as I received my endowments one week before leaving on a mission. When I returned, Nese and I decided to continue the eternal journey we had begun with conversations at a table in a library. We were married in the Provo Temple.
Every time I look at my wife, I thank the Lord that there was a girl in my high school with enough faith to “just want to share her beliefs with someone who wouldn’t laugh at her.” She touched my head and changed my life.

I love to play soccer, but because I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I didn’t want to play on Sundays. It was hard for me to tell my coach that I wouldn’t be able to practice on Sunday, but when I explained that I attend church, he still let me join the team.
Since I missed Sunday practices, my teammates wouldn’t always trust my skill level. I prayed that I would be focused and play well during practice, since I didn’t have as much practice time as the rest of the team. When the final tournament came around, I was invited to participate in the game. I know God helped me to achieve that goal.

Here is another trial. There have always been a few who want to discredit the Church and to destroy faith. Today they use the Internet.
Some of the information about the Church, no matter how convincing, is just not true. In 1985, I remember a colleague walking into my business office in Florida. He had a Time magazine article entitled “Challenging Mormonism’s Roots.” It spoke of a recently discovered letter, supposedly written by Martin Harris, that conflicted with Joseph Smith’s account of finding the Book of Mormon plates.19
My colleague asked if this new information would destroy the Mormon Church. The article quoted a man who said he was leaving the Church over the document. Later, others reportedly left the Church.20 I’m sure it was a trial of their faith.
A few months later, experts discovered (and the forger confessed) that the letter was a complete fraud. I remember really hoping that those who had left the Church because of this deception would find their way back.

A couple I know about married later in life; the wife had been married before, but it was the husband’s first marriage. After several months of marital bliss, a serious disagreement erupted that so hurt the husband emotionally that he could not function at his daily tasks.
As he reeled from the impact of this confrontation, he stopped to analyze the problem and realized that at least a part of the problem had been his. He went to his bride and stammered awkwardly several times, “I’m sorry, Honey.” The wife burst into tears, confessing that much of the problem was hers and asked forgiveness. As they held each other, she confessed that in her experience those words of apology had not been used before, and she now knew that any of their future problems could be solved. She felt secure because she knew they both could say, “I’m sorry;” “I forgive.”

In my youth I once was negligent in a way that caused a minor injury to one of my brothers. I did not own up to my stupidity at the time, and no one ever knew about my role in the matter. Years later I was praying that God would reveal to me anything in my life that needed correction so that I might be found more acceptable before Him, and this incident came to my mind. I had forgotten about it, but the Spirit whispered that this was an unresolved transgression I needed to confess. I called my brother, apologized, and asked for his forgiveness, which he promptly and generously gave. My embarrassment and regret would have been less had I apologized when the accident happened.
It was interesting and significant to me that the Lord had not forgotten about that event of the distant past even though I had. Sins do not take care of themselves or simply fade away. Sins do not get “swept under the rug” in the eternal economy of things. They must be dealt with, and the wonderful thing is that because of the Savior’s atoning grace, they can be dealt with in a much happier and less painful manner than directly satisfying offended justice ourselves.

“You never know until you try,” said 16 year-old Camela Lines of the Yuma Fourth Ward, Yuma Arizona Stake. With that, she entered a local speech contest and ended up winning a trip to Seattle plus a $500 scholarship.
Her speech was entitled “Our Waste, Our Challenge,” and it was about what people can do in their own homes to help the environment. “Speaking to a large group of strangers in a very formal setting is a much different experience that giving a five minute talk in sacrament meeting to friends,” Camela said, adding that she was “scared to death.”
Camela is the Sunday School chorister, vice president of the Cibola High Chapter of the National Honor Society, and the oldest child in a family of ten.

“We wanted to recognize the family and have the youth find the job of modern-day families, and we wanted to do it through dance,” says Bruce Bassett, a youth leader. Doctrine and Covenants 136:28 states, “If thou art merry, praise the Lord with singing, with music, with dancing, and with a prayer of praise and thanksgiving.” Five stakes in Washington took that scripture and ran with it—actually they danced with it.
The Bothell, Snohomish, Everett, Lynnwood, and Mount Vernon Stakes spent two years planning their dance festival in Marysville, and one and a half of those years working on it intensely. It was the first dance festival in that area in more than 20 years. “It teaches us how much effort and responsibility it takes to put on one of these festivals,” says Morgan Thatcher, 16, of the Everett Stake. “And also how much fun it can be.”
For the last five months of those two years, the youth learned all the dance moves they would need to pull off this spectacular event. Hours and hours of practice and some great choreography, not to mention raw talent, meant the final product was a big hit.
Early on the morning of the big performance, the youth are rushing around frantically trying to find lost hats and canes, or even the whereabouts of their stakes. But the chaos dies down as soon as the nearly 1,000 young people gather in perfect rows in the gym to say an opening prayer and begin practice. It is their first time practicing as a complete group. Previously, the stake groups had practiced on their own. A lot of organization and teamwork made it possible to integrate all the stakes and their dances. The youth practice all morning, but instead of being tired, by early afternoon they are excited to give the day’s first performance.
By 1:00 P.M., everyone is costumed and waiting in the wings for their cues. The stage for the opening number is set when the family reunion begins. “Celebration,” a 1984 song, is the first dance number, and all the stakes participate. Hula-hoops fly, streamers wave, and each stake performs its unique number while coordinating with the other stakes.
Prompted by the memories and stories of the on-stage family, the youth keep dancing. A hat and cane number, a Latin dance, and a classic disco hustle. Then it was on to a pioneer square dance.
The last song, which was also part of the opening number, has a prayerful quality. The score is an original, written by Ann Bailey, the event’s music director. The song title, “A Time to Dance,” is taken from Ecclesiastes 3:4. The spirit filling the gymnasium was one of praise and worship, thanks to the dedicated youth of Washington, who were congratulated with a standing ovation and many tear-filled eyes. The youth performed the whole show again a few hours later to another packed gymnasium.

In a notable talk on administering to the sick, President Spencer W. Kimball said: “The need of faith is often underestimated. The ill one and the family often seem to depend wholly on the power of the priesthood and the gift of healing that they hope the administering brethren may have, whereas the greater responsibility is with him who is blessed. … The major element is the faith of the individual when that person is conscious and accountable. ‘Thy faith hath made thee whole’ [Matthew 9:22] was repeated so often by the Master that it almost became a chorus.”11

President Kimball even suggested that “too frequent administrations may be an indication of lack of faith or of the ill one trying to pass the responsibility for faith development to the elders rather than self.” He told about a faithful sister who received a priesthood blessing. When asked the next day if she wished to be administered to again, she replied: “No, I have been anointed and administered to. The ordinance has been performed. It is up to me now to claim my blessing through my faith.”12

Blair: I grew up in the Church and have a testimony. However, there is a part of my life that few people know. At age seven I often saw a pornographic poster on a teenage neighbor’s wall. It left an impression in my mind that I could not forget. Unworthy thoughts led me to develop an unworthy habit I felt I couldn’t break.
Ryan: When I was about 12 years old I went to a friend’s house and found him and a bunch of neighborhood boys gathered around the computer. I joked, “Hey, are you guys looking at pornography?”
They said, “How did you guess? Come check this out.”
That was the beginning of a problem in my life. I soon began using our family computer to find more and more images.
Rob: You usually don’t realize you have a problem until you are in so deep you can no longer see the light. That’s what happened with me. I was curious and justified my involvement with pornography by reminding myself that guys at school were involved with it too, and it didn’t seem like a big problem for them.
Pornography first appeals to curiosity. Somehow, just looking doesn’t seem all that dangerous. Every one of us has gone into a store just to look—not to buy. But this is a huge store, with almost unlimited merchandise. Once we are in the store, the invitations to satisfy our curiosity are endless. And so curiosity is never satisfied.
There are lots of things in life—like rattlesnakes or abandoned mine shafts or drugs—that we may be curious about. But knowing how dangerous they are, we walk away or leave the party or turn off the computer.
Actually, with pornography, there is no such thing as “just looking.” Looking is the problem. Viewing pornography triggers sexual feelings. We can easily get hooked on those pleasurable feelings, especially if they seem to relieve stress or anxiety—and we can start a cycle of addiction just as difficult to break as an addiction to drugs or alcohol.
Rob: Curiosity turned to interest, and interest developed into a strong habit. Soon I was addicted. I would get home from school, go straight to the computer, and be there for hours. My social life suffered. So did my schoolwork, family ties, and—most important—my spirituality.
At the very time I most needed the promptings of the Spirit in my life, I was less and less able to feel anything. Life became a constant struggle against depression.
My soul hungered, and the only thing I fed it offered no nourishment. I would get discouraged with myself, so I would delve into pornography to feel better. But the pornography would upset me even more.
Guilt, fear, and depression are common emotions for those involved with pornography—guilt, because they know what they are doing is wrong; fear, because they are terrified their secret will be found out; and depression, because they no longer feel the Spirit. Relationships with family, friends, Church leaders, and the Lord are damaged.
Blair: My self-confidence dwindled in church, school, and everywhere. Many times I felt very alone, awkward, and unworthy. If a girl liked me, I would think, “She wouldn’t like me if she really knew me.” I would shy away from being social.
Rob: Through all those years I attended church, but I was mentally inactive. I kept going to church so I wouldn’t upset my parents. But I knew the lifestyle I was caught up in was wrong. I noticed a change in my own countenance day by day, year by year. I became calloused and hardened. I found myself lying to my parents, my bishop, everyone around me. Inside I was going through personal turmoil and spiritual torment.
As these young men struggled with their addiction to pornography, each tried to overcome it on his own. But like a hiker trapped in a dangerous crevice, each needed help. Talking to the bishop became the key to changing the direction of their lives.
Blair: I prayed for strength to leave these temptations alone. I made a list of things such as prayer, scriptures, and clean thoughts that would help me draw close to God. But although I worked hard, it didn’t solve my problems.
The thought of confessing to the bishop made me cringe. I felt it would be better to tell the bishop about the problem when it was in the past. But I finally realized it wasn’t ever going to be in the past if I did not confess. If God already knew my struggles and I felt comfortable talking about them in prayer, why not talk face to face with God’s servant? Once I finally decided to confess, I felt a reassuring peace that it was the right thing to do.
If you are using pornography, you are not morally clean, even if you haven’t done anything else immoral. Rob talks about realizing he wasn’t worthy to go to the temple or on a mission.
Rob: I humbly bowed before the Lord in tears and pleaded for strength beyond my own. Night after night I prayed, and finally I knew I had to talk to my bishop about it. That was the hardest part—admitting to someone else that I had a problem. I kept thinking I could handle it myself and no one would ever have to know. I wanted it to be something just between God and me. But I finally matured to a point where I realized that was impossible. I approached my bishop and began a long and difficult repentance process.
Repentance may be difficult, but it is also comforting and filled with hope.
Speaking of those who struggle with pornography, one bishop says: “Help is available. The repentance process is just that—a process. It takes time to break negative patterns, and each small victory must be acknowledged, reinforced, and celebrated along the way. Sometimes those I have worked with still struggle, but at least they are not hiding anymore. They have begun to build a support system. They have realized they don’t have to face this challenge alone.”
A former bishop explains: “Besides my own family, I don’t think I loved anyone in my ward quite as much as I loved those who came to me with broken hearts, seeking forgiveness and peace. They cared more about what the Lord thought of them than what any person thought. I respected their courage and desire to make things right. I shed tears over them. I rejoiced when they were clean and whole again. And afterward I never looked at them as former sinners—only as beloved brothers and sisters.”
“Trust in the Lord,” counseled Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. “He knows what He is doing. He already knows of your problems. And He is waiting for you to ask for help” (“Trust in the Lord,” Ensign, May 1989, 36).
I felt relief when I stopped pretending. Sharing the burden with my bishop and my family meant I no longer had to deal with this addiction alone. Now I hold on to this support system.
A problem that dominated my youth could not be overcome overnight. This road has been long and hard—and it continues. It isn’t enough anymore to look happy. I want to be happy. I am coming to know Christ and to understand the Atonement. The Savior gives me the strength I need so my self-confidence and self-respect grow each day.
I was honest with my bishop. And when my dad talked to me, I was honest with him too. We worked on the problem together. We decided not to have the Internet in our home for a while. That was a big help.
I’m turning 16 soon, and I’m glad I decided not to let pornography control my life. I feel better about myself, and I think about young women differently than I did before. With my bishop’s help, I’m preparing now for the temple, a mission, and a great marriage one day.
It took a lot of time and sincere effort to break bad habits. Eventually I was judged by my priesthood leader as worthy to serve a mission. The best feeling in the world was to go to the temple and know I am clean. The Spirit I wanted to feel during all those teenage years came flooding into my heart and life. I am so thankful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
The adversary still works on me, trying to get me to backslide. But I have learned to put on the armor of God every day. I know Jesus Christ loves me, and I love Him.

by Kari Ellertson
At the beginning of the year, our Laurel class started planning an activity for the following summer. We wanted to go to Los Angeles and see some of the sights there. For some reason, we just couldn’t get excited until someone suggested that we make a service project part of our trip. We called Brother Bill Andrew, a member of the Los Angeles Ward for the Deaf, and asked if we could visit his ward and put together a library for them. The church library they usually used was under reconstruction. Teaching most deaf members is very difficult without using many pictures to portray all gospel concepts, so they were in great need.
When summertime came, we made a few more plans, borrowed a ward member’s motor home, and arranged for some chaperons. The morning of June 11, we were off to Los Angeles—nine Laurels, two chaperons, and a ton of excitement all crammed into one motor home. When we arrived, we worked all afternoon finding, cutting, numbering, and filing hundreds of pictures for the library. Our own ward library had donated pictures, cards, and a filing system for us to refer to, but we did all the rest of the work ourselves.
That evening we attended a stake dance in the Glendale Stake. Finally we were home and in bed after an exhausting day. We were so tired that nobody seemed to mind sleeping on the living room floor in Brother Andrews’s home.
The next morning was Sunday, and we were up and ready for stake conference in the Los Angeles California Stake. Afterwards we attended sacrament meeting at the ward for the deaf. It was very interesting to see everything done in sign language. Even though there was such a difference in procedures, the Spirit of the Lord was strong and very much the same as in all ward meetings everywhere. That evening we were taught some sign language by the Andrews family, and we learned “I Am a Child of God” well enough to do it for sacrament meeting in our own ward.
The next morning we woke up late. We had to go, but nobody wanted to be the first to say good-bye. Brother Andrews gave us each a necklace that said “I love you” in sign language on it. We said our good-byes, promised to keep in touch, and then left for home.
On the way home all of us reflected back on our project, how happy we felt, and how strong the spirit of brotherly love can be when we are in the service of our God.

When I was 17 years old, I knew my bishop was going to approach me in the near future and ask me about serving a mission.
While I grew up in a home with devout and active parents, I wasn’t yet fully committed to serving a mission. I went to church and prayed when asked, and sometimes I prayed on my own. I believed in the Church, but I didn’t yet know that it was true. I didn’t yet have my own testimony, and I didn’t feel that I could go and tell others to join the Church unless I could look into their eyes and say, “I know.”
So I decided to find out for myself whether the Church is true. I started with reading the Book of Mormon. However, when I finished reading the Book of Mormon, I didn’t feel any different from when I’d started reading.
One evening, I sat in my bedroom thinking, “How do I come to know?” To my mind came the impression that I should read the Joseph Smith story in the Pearl of Great Price. As I read Joseph’s story, I began to see that his story was the same as mine. Here was a young man who wanted to know which church was true and which he should join. There were many different voices and opinions on the subject of religion swirling around Joseph Smith.
That was how I felt.
As I read how Joseph Smith determined to ask God what was true and what he should do—and what happened to him as a result—I realized I needed to do the same. I needed to pray and ask God. Unlike Joseph Smith, I didn’t have a grove of trees to visit. I was living in a big city, in Long Beach, California, USA. The only quiet place I could go to was the quiet of my own bedroom.
So I closed the door, knelt at my bed, and put my face in my pillow. I offered what, for me, was my first real vocal prayer on this subject. I addressed Heavenly Father and humbly asked Him if He was really there, if Jesus Christ was really His Son, and if Joseph Smith had really seen the two of Them.
As I did so, I had an experience that just overwhelmed me. A feeling of love and peace fell upon me and completely consumed me. I was filled with deep spiritual knowledge. In that moment, I knew—and have known ever since—that there is a God in heaven and that He is my Father. I knew that Jesus Christ is His Son, who atoned for me and all mankind, and that Joseph Smith saw both of Them.
I also got something more that I hadn’t actually asked for: a knowledge that out of all the people on the earth, God knew and loved me.
Knowing that God was answering my prayer, and knowing that He loved me, caused me to weep.
This experience fundamentally changed my life. While I haven’t been perfect since this experience, I’ve tried very hard to live up to the knowledge I gained that day—that I was a son of God and that He loved me enough to speak to me in prayer. I moved forward with conviction to serve a full-time mission and did so. Afterward, I was married in the temple to a wonderful, worthy young woman, my wife now of 30 years. And I have tried to serve faithfully in all that God has asked me to do and to keep the covenants I have made with Him.
My whole life has been based on that revelatory experience and the knowledge that came to me as a 17-year-old young man.
Sometimes people will ask me, “You’re now a General Authority. What have you come to know about the Lord since becoming a General Authority?” I say that while I’ve come to know more, the spiritual knowledge I gained at age 17 remains among the most significant of my life.
The scriptures describe the Seventies as “especial witnesses” (D&C 107:25). I’ve had many revelatory experiences in my life, and all of them have added to what I know to be true. But if there’s one thing that qualifies me to be today an especial witness of the Savior, it is that witness which I received at age 17.
From this I say that youth can receive as much witness as a General Authority has. The reason I say this is because, for me, I received that witness in my youth. It has been the foundation of everything I’ve done since.

Elder Hunk was the talk of the mission. Never had a missionary swept an area as he had. There had been talk of closing that area, but single-handedly Elder Hunk had swelled convert baptisms until conservative estimates ran in the thousands. His picture was on the cover of the Church News under the caption “Wonder Missionary,” and he was being compared to missionaries in the early days of the Church.
“How do you do it?” asked his mission president.
“Dexter. Dexter. How do you do it?” questioned his seminary teacher, Brother Larsen.
A classmate poked Dexter in his ribs, “Hey, wake up.” Brother Larsen patiently repeated his question. “How can we be member missionaries?”
Dexter looked up. “I dunno,” he said.