Gospel Story Finder

Mika always looked forward to dance class. She loved listening to the music. She loved practicing her butterfly skip and getting it just right. And she especially loved it when the whole class moved together. When they did that, it was like the dancers were all the same. It felt like she wasn’t the only one with Down syndrome.
Today they were learning a new dance step. Mika watched her teacher leap into the air. She watched the other girls try. Some figured it out right away. Mika tried over and over, but she just couldn’t get it right yet.
“Will you help me, teacher?” Mika asked.
The girl next to her looked at Mika. Then she leaned over to her friend. “Why does she talk like that?” she whispered. Both girls turned and looked at Mika.
On the way home from class, Mika was quiet the whole way.
When they got home, Mom was kneading dough in the kitchen. She had flour on her cheek. Sometimes that made Mika laugh. But today she just dropped her bag to the floor and sank into a chair at the table.
“How was dance?” Mom asked.
“Terrible,” Mika said. “I asked for help, and a girl said I talk funny. Then she stared at me.” Mika looked down. “I don’t want to go to dance anymore.”
“Oh, Mika!” Mom said. “I’m so sorry. Dad and I love watching you dance. We’re so proud of how hard you work!”
Mika felt tears starting to come. “I don’t like the Down syndrome in me. I don’t like that my face is different. I wish it wasn’t so hard for me to learn new things. I even have to practice talking!”
Dad sat down by Mika and put his arm around her. “Mika, we love you so much. We wouldn’t change one thing about you.”
But Mika just shook her head and buried her face in her arms. “I don’t want to be different. I want my Down syndrome to be taken out of me!”
Mom and Dad were quiet for a few moments.
“I have an idea,” Mom said. Mika peeked out over her arms. “Why don’t you pray and ask Heavenly Father how He feels about you?”
Mika thought about that. She liked saying prayers. Slowly, she nodded. “Can you write down the question so I’ll remember what to ask?”
Mom wrote the question down. Then Mika took the paper and went to her room to pray.
When she came into the kitchen a few minutes later, Mika’s face was lit up like a light bulb. “Heavenly Father answered!” she said.
“What did He say?” Mom asked.
“He said, ‘Mika, I love you just the way you are,’” she said. “And He said it with a LOUD voice!”
The next week at dance, Mika didn’t worry about what the other girls thought about her Down syndrome. Instead, she noticed another girl, Sara, who looked sad. Sara was having a hard time learning some of the new moves too.
When Mika got home, she decided to write a note to Sara. She drew lots of hearts. Mom helped her with the spelling.
“Dear Sara,” Mika wrote. “You’re a great dancer. I want to be your friend. I am happy you are in my dance class.”
Mika couldn’t wait to give Sara the note. She wanted Sara to feel happy and loved at dance too.

“When I worked at the candy shop,” his older sister began, “I practically ate my paycheck each week in candy. I couldn’t help myself, it tasted so good. Finally after praying about it, I decided to set a candy quota for each day. If I stuck to my quota, I rewarded myself by taking the money I would have spent on candy and putting it toward a new pair of jeans. Some days I didn’t make it, but gradually I ate less candy. And I got the jeans!”

Earlier this year I was offered drugs. I did not want to offend that person, but I gained the courage to tell him that I was not interested. I cannot even tell you how grateful I am for holding true to what I believe in. A couple of weeks later, the guy who offered me drugs told me that he was so impressed that I stood up for what I believe in. He told me that he had never met anyone who could do that and that it took a lot of courage. He said he would never forget that experience.
Through your example you can be a light to others and a good influence (see Matthew 5:16).
Mary T., 16, Arizona, USA

Fourth President of the Church
As a missionary in England, Wilford Woodruff was blessed for his obedience. He recorded: “I asked the Lord what He wanted of me. He merely said, ‘Go to the south.’ I got into the stage and rode eighty miles. The first man’s house I stopped at was John Benbow’s in Herefordshire. In half an hour after I entered the house I knew exactly why the Lord had sent me. There was a people there who had been praying for the ancient order of things. They were waiting for the Gospel as it was taught by Christ and His Apostles. The consequence was, the first thirty days after I got there I baptized six hundred of those people. In eight month’s labor in that country I brought eighteen hundred into the Church. Why? Because there was a people prepared for the Gospel, and the Lord had sent me there to do that work” (Deseret Weekly, 7 November 1896, 643; quoted in Howard W. Hunter, “Developing Spirituality,” Ensign, May 1979, 24).

In the Lodi (California) Third Ward, when the bishop asked ward members to increase their knowledge about food storage and preparedness, the young women of the ward decided to learn to bake their own bread. Together with their mothers, the girls made flat breads, yeast breads, croissants, cinnamon rolls, scones, round loaves, and Greek braided bread. Part of each girl’s bread was shared at an activity night, and part was donated to the Salvation Army.

Last Christmas, I received some money from my great aunt. I paid my tithing and then thought about what I would buy. Since I was given a compact-disc (CD) player for Christmas, I decided to get a CD to go with it. A few days later, Mom took me to the store. I found a CD that I thought I’d like and bought it.
When I got home, I started listening to it. The first song was fine, but the next one wasn’t. It had bad language and lyrics, so I stopped listening to it. When Mom asked how I liked the new CD, I told her that I didn’t feel good about it. I remembered the “My Gospel Standards” poster in my room and that I’d promised to listen only to music that would be pleasing to Heavenly Father.
We checked the rest of the songs, and then I saw a sticker on the CD wrapper that said, “Cannot be returned after opened.” I showed it to Mom. She said, “We are still going to try to return it.”
We went back to the store and waited in the return line. Mom told the people about the lyrics and asked if we could please return the CD. The man said that he would let us just this once. I felt happy inside, and I knew that Mom did, too.

Some years ago, I participated in a stake conference in Soweto, South Africa. I found the people of that township justly proud of being the only community in the world where not one but two Nobel laureates resided, and on the same street: Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu. These two were crucial leaders in the fight against apartheid and in guiding the transition to a new government and a new day in South Africa. You are familiar with the greatness of soul displayed by Mandela after nearly thirty years of persecution and imprisonment to institute an almost unbelievable degree of reconciliation and unity in South Africa.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu chaired the Truth and Reconciliation Commission set up at the end of apartheid. This commission was established on the proposition that for the nation to extricate itself from its oppressive past, it was necessary first to document fully the sins and suffering of apartheid. But once the record was completed, it was vital for both individuals and the society at large to be reconciled, to accept the confessions and repentance, to forgive, and to move forward.

Archbishop Tutu described this remarkable undertaking in his book No Future Without Forgiveness.12 He later published a second book with his daughter Mpho: Made for Goodness.13 In this book, Tutu and his daughter (also an Anglican minister) declare that murder and greed are not the norm for human behavior; the norm is goodness. This may seem a surprising thesis for one who presided over a commission that revealed in depth the iniquity of apartheid and one who had himself experienced the consequences. But Tutu’s deeper apperception and the success of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission teach us that, at some point, having done what we can to address the injustices of the past, we may accept the basic goodness present in imperfect man, leave ultimate justice in the hands of God, forgive what we cannot fix, and go forward, collaborating to make a better present and future.

During a particularly difficult time, I was feeling quite unsettled. Actually, pretty desperate for the Lord’s help. By this point in my life, I knew Jesus Christ: who He was, and what He had done for me. I had faith that He could help me and would provide comfort.
I trusted Him. So I went in prayer, utilizing the power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ for relief.
Brothers and sisters, it took me a long time, well into my adulthood, to learn how the power of the Atonement works for me. But in that moment of prayer, as I asked God to lift my burden so I could set aside my grief and my concerns and focus on the tasks that I had before me, I felt immediate relief, and I felt this wise counsel, “You know where to find peace.”

About seven years ago, when I was 29, I moved to Utah from Oregon, USA. After weighing my options, I decided to attend my local family ward, thinking I needed a change from the singles wards I had attended.
My parents raised me to always accept Church callings, so I made an appointment with the bishop to present myself as someone who wanted to be put to work. It wasn’t long before I found myself teaching the five-year-olds in Primary, which I enjoyed. Five months later the bishop called me to be Primary president. I was stunned. “Can I do that?” I asked myself.
Being single and childless made me wonder if I was qualified to serve in that capacity. In my past experience with family wards, Primary presidents were happily married, accomplished, and devoted mothers. Remembering what my parents had taught me, however, I accepted the new assignment. The bishop truly took to heart the mandate that bishops are to “find meaningful callings for all young single adults.”1 The calling may have been a little more meaningful than I was expecting, but I was grateful for it.
As I served in my new calling, I experienced many sweet, funny, and inspiring moments with the children. One year, during Christmastime, we reenacted the Nativity for a special sharing time. We sang songs. We furnished robes and towel headdresses for the shepherds and for Joseph. We had tinsel garlands for the angels’ heads. We made cardboard and foil-covered crowns for the Wise Men.
As we reenacted the Christmas story and sang the sacred songs of the season, I noticed the beautiful young girl who was portraying Mary. Her example of reverence and gentleness as she knelt, quietly holding the doll that represented the baby Jesus, touched my heart. The spirit of that moment made me thankful to a loving Heavenly Father for our Savior and helped strengthen my testimony of His profound and loving mission. It also made me thankful for the tremendous blessing I had received in being called to serve and for an inspired bishop who helped to make that service possible.
In the Doctrine and Covenants, we read, “Therefore, if ye have desires to serve God ye are called to the work” (D&C 4:3). Though this verse is usually associated with missionary work, I like to think that it can refer to any form of gospel-based service.
Regardless of marital or social status, each of us is first and foremost a child of a loving Heavenly Father, who wants us to grow, belong, develop our talents, serve one another, and help one another return to Him.
The acceptance and love I felt in that ward was instantaneous and remains in my heart to this day. My desire to serve was recognized and utilized, many people reached out and welcomed me, and Heavenly Father truly blessed me. Because of kind and attentive leaders, I was blessed to teach and learn from some of His most wonderful children.

I joined the Church by myself in central California, USA, when I was a teenager, and in the 20-plus years since then, I’ve always been either the only Black person in my ward or one of a very, very few. I have had some difficult experiences, even at church, with regards to my race. Thankfully, I have a testimony that God loves me and that there is a place for all of us in His kingdom.
While Church leaders have called on “all people to abandon attitudes and actions of prejudice toward any group or individual,”1 there are some who still haven’t learned how to do it. I saw that as a young single adult when I was left to wonder if that was why none of the boys were interested in dating me and if I would ever have the opportunity to marry in the temple because of it. I see it now when someone at church makes an incorrect comment about race that makes me feel singled out, as if my worthiness is being evaluated in front of everyone. And if no one speaks up to correct this false doctrine, I am left to do it alone.
It’s uncomfortable to be stared at, to have people touch my hair without permission, or to be ignored. And when I try to talk about these things, it hurts deeply when I am told by people I love and trust that I’m just making things up, being too sensitive, or acting like a victim.
Why do I and others share these painful experiences? It’s because I want to be part of my ward family. It’s because I see how much I could contribute if given the opportunity. But I feel like I’m on the periphery of Church life—not fully sheltered in the refuge we all need. It’s because with greater mutual understanding, we can be so much better together.
I want to give people an opportunity to get to know me, so I try to be open and honest with and kind to everyone I meet. I try to initiate friendships by inviting people to lunch and starting conversations. I try to create safe spaces for honesty, vulnerability, and love, and make time for other people the way I hope they’ll make time for me. I try to be the friend I want to have—which includes trying to understand experiences others have had that I don’t share.
I’ve felt seen and included by simple acts of kindness and reaching out. I feel included when people make an effort to have a real conversation with me, make time for me, or invite me to spend time with them. It feels so good when people show that they want to be around you.

Thank you for the June leadership issue. I am second counselor in the Red Deer District Primary, and we had a leadership meeting planned for Saturday, June 4. On Wednesday, June 1, I still didn’t know what to discuss in my department, and I was getting panicky because of my responsibility of giving something worthwhile to leaders who would travel great distances. My prayers were truly answered when the mail came Wednesday with the New Era. I used most of the feature articles as well as the Puzzlement and Mormonad. Several sisters said it was just what they needed.
Verna J. ParkTrochu, Alberta, Canada

Years ago, one of our colleagues shared this tender experience with us. His young daughter, Kim, had just learned to count. In fact, she could count all the way from one to ten. They were so excited they called Grandma. “Hi, Grandma. Do you want to hear me count?” Then she began to count, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” Perhaps the Savior smiled and was pleased that Kim could count from one to ten.

In verse 16 of Ephesians, Paul states that we should take up the shield of faith, wherewith we may be able to quench the fiery darts of the wicked. I learned another valuable lesson on faith as a young missionary in Valencia, Spain. My companion and I were proselyting on the streets of the city of Valencia when a taxi sped up alongside of us and the driver exited the vehicle in an absolute panic. We were not sure what we had done, we were frozen with fear for just a moment. The Taxi driver asked if we were Elders in the Mormon Church; now we were really concerned, but having faith, we responded in the affirmative. The taxi driver said that he had frantically been driving the city looking for us and then he quickly explained that he had a daughter in the intensive care unit at the hospital. He said the baby was two months premature and wasn’t expected to live. He further explained that he had once been a Mormon and he knew that if Elders of the church blessed this baby, surely she would live.

I had just recently been made a senior companion and knowing that I had never given a lifesaving blessing, I hesitated for a moment surmising, that this was too serious of a blessing for a senior companion to perform. He saw the concern on my face and reassured me that I could do it. We climbed into his cab and he sped to the hospital on the other side of the city. Upon entering the room, we were met with suspicious looks from the doctors and nurses. The church was relatively new in Spain and at the time, Mormons were not held in high regard. His wife was there, as well, and she looked weak from childbirth and what appeared to be a continuous flow of tears for the small infant who was lying in the incubator with tubes in her chest and throat. We approached the little glass case where the baby lay. She was no bigger than my hand and her breaths were long and inconsistent. Not knowing for sure what I was supposed to do, I asked the doctor if we could put oil on the baby’s head. In disgust, he exclaimed that I must be crazy as there was nothing that was supposed to touch the baby’s skin. The doctor then tried to convince the father that the blessing was useless, as the baby would not last the night. He told the father that his time would be better spent by summoning a catholic priest to come to the hospital to administer the last rights for the baby.

In spite of this pressure, the father insisted that my companion and I were Disciples of Jesus Christ and we had come to save the child. Nervously, we approached this small incubator and with each of us standing on opposite sides of the glass, we reached into the rubber gloves that extended into the incubator and put one finger each on the tiny head of the infant. We bypassed the anointing, as we were forbidden to put the oil on the head. Then, mustering all of the courage I had, I began to utter a blessing.

Brothers and sisters, I have prayed many times in my life and have given many blessings, but in this instance it was different. For one of the few times in my life up to that point, I began to speak to God. I pronounced our priesthood and I began to bless the baby. These were not my words and as they flowed from my mouth; I remember being shocked at what I was saying. I blessed the baby that she would live, not for the night, but that she would live a full life; that she would be a testimony to her father and mother of the healing power of the priesthood. I realized that I was crying as I spoke and could not control the emotions that filled my soul. I blessed the baby that because of the great faith that her father had, she would be whole. There were many things that were said in that blessing, most of which I have forgotten over time. I will never forget, however, the way that I felt.

When we were finished with the blessing, I opened my eyes. There were six of us in that room, and the tears flowed from the eyes of every one of us. Even the skeptical doctor walked over and put his hand on my shoulder. He didn’t say a word, just squeezed my shoulder and walked out of the room for his emotions had also overcome him. That experience has stayed with me from that moment until this day. The baby did live. When I last saw her, years ago, she was about 13 years old; she was full of life; a beautiful and miraculous example of the healing power of faith, faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and faith in his healing power through the Priesthood.

A good example of compassion and service making a difference is the example of Don and Marian Summers. While serving in England, they were asked to serve the last six months of their mission in the Swindon Branch to teach and assist in activating members. For 80 years Swindon had been a branch with a faithful few and with many good members becoming less active.
Don and Marian wrote: “Our first visit to Swindon Branch was a bit disheartening as we met with the Saints in a cold, rented hall. The congregation numbered 17, including President and Sister Hales and 4 missionaries. Still wearing our winter coats, we all huddled around a small, inadequate heater while we listened to a Sunday School lesson.”
The letter continued: “A branch member approached me one day: ‘Elder Summers, can I give you a bit of advice? Never mention the word tithing to the Swindon members; they really don’t believe in it, and all you will do is upset them.’”
Brother Summers said: “We did teach tithing and all the other gospel principles. With example and the encouragement of a branch president, there was a change of heart, and faith and activity started to increase. The membership records were completely updated as we visited every member’s home. When the leaders started caring, the members began to respond, and a whole new spirit pervaded the branch. The members became excited again about the gospel and helping one another. …
“One young couple had a difficult adjustment to make as their customs, manners, and dress were different. They became offended at suggestions for changes. The couple twice wrote to the bishop [since by then it was a ward] and asked to have their names removed from the Church records. In the last letter they forbade any of the members to visit them, so [we] went to the florist and purchased a beautiful plant of chrysanthemums and had it delivered to the young couple. It was a simple note: ‘We love you; we miss you; we need you. Please come back.’ Signed, Swindon Ward.
“The next Sunday was fast and testimony meeting and our last Sunday in Swindon. There were 103 members in attendance, compared to 17 six months before. The young couple was there, and in bearing his testimony, the husband thanked the Swindon Ward for not giving up on them.”

For years I had asked Heavenly Father, “How do you see me?” I had struggled with being bullied, going to church, and losing my sick father. It wasn’t until I went to be sealed to my family in the temple that I finally got an answer.
Afterward, I was pondering my question when I was suddenly filled with warmth. I looked up into a large mirror and saw one of the most beautiful young women I had ever seen. Her eyes shone, and tears streamed down her rosy cheeks. Her countenance simply glowed. She wore a perfectly white dress.
I was filled with comfort as I felt the Spirit, and I spoke quietly to myself what I now know to be true: “I am a daughter of my Heavenly Father, who loves me. I was created for a divine purpose. I am virtuous and benevolent. I am, and have always been, loved and beautiful.”
If you have felt unloved, unwanted, or forgotten, know that you will never be alone. No matter how far we have fallen, no matter what sin we have committed, our Father and Jesus Christ are always there. They love us all individually, and They want us to return to Them. If it weren’t for Jesus Christ and His Atonement, loving family and friends, and the temple, I wouldn’t have learned these precious truths.
Renee C., Utah, USA

I am overjoyed that you have shed some light on sexual abuse (“Hidden Agony,” Mar. ’92), a subject often left in the dark. I was investigating the Church two years ago, but even though I knew it was true, I felt I was not worthy to receive the blessings given to Heavenly Father’s “clean” children. Later, my bishop approached me and I was ready for him to tell me to repent. Instead, he told me Heavenly Father loves me and this was not my sin. Then he gave me a blessing and I had an overwhelming feeling of comfort. Six months later I was baptized. I feel pure and new again, and my fiancé and I are now looking forward to a temple marriage.
Name Withheld

I’ve loved to dance since I was three. So when I was in middle school, I was excited when tryouts for the dance team came around. I had no doubt that with my talent and experience, I would easily make the team.
A few days after the tryouts, the names of the dance team were posted. To my dismay, I couldn’t find my name anywhere on the list. I was devastated. I went home and cried on my bed. I was mad at the dance teacher and disappointed that I had not been good enough to make the team. My mom quietly walked into my room and suggested that I ask Heavenly Father for the strength to make it through this “bump” in my life. I reluctantly agreed and said a short prayer. After the prayer I didn’t feel any better, so I continued moping around and being miserable. I slept terribly that night.
The next morning I pulled myself out of bed. The memory of my failure was fresh in my mind, and I wanted to just slip right back under the covers. But before I did, I remembered a promise my bishop had made. He said that if I would read my scriptures every day, even if only for 15 minutes, then I would be blessed. If I ever needed a blessing, it was now.
As I read, I discovered this verse in the Doctrine and Covenants:
“I say unto you my friends, fear not, let your hearts be comforted; yea, rejoice evermore, and in everything give thanks;
“Waiting patiently on the Lord, for your prayers have entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, and are recorded with this seal and testament—the Lord hath sworn and decreed that they shall be granted.
“Therefore, he giveth this promise unto you, with an immutable covenant that they shall be fulfilled; and all things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good, and to my name’s glory, saith the Lord” (Doctrine and Covenants 98:1–3).
I was shocked. I sat in my pajamas with my messy bed-hair and marveled at how much I had needed these scriptures. All the feelings of anger and sadness washed away in those three verses. I felt the love of my Heavenly Father and knew that He knew what I was going through. With this new perspective, I could see that not being chosen for the dance team really was just a small bump in the road of my life. I fell to my knees in gratitude and thanked Heavenly Father.
For the rest of the day, I was able to keep the Spirit with me and look at my trials as opportunities for growth. I will always hold these verses close to my heart. And I will remember my bishop’s promise about the blessings of turning to the scriptures. I am very grateful I can be a part of this Church and have a knowledge of the gospel. I know that Heavenly Father’s plan for us is truly a plan of happiness.

Before my first mission, when I was attending the university, I invited a lovely young lady to attend the university’s junior prom dinner dance. I had dated this fine girl a few times before. Every time we came home from a date, her father would be in his big leather chair, fully dressed, waiting for us.

As I went to pick her up the evening of the dance at the university, her father said, “What time will you be home?” I responded, “Sir, as you know, this is a special dinner-dance at the university; the dinner is scheduled to be served after the dance, so we would like to stay out later than usual.” I added, “You may not wish to wait up for us that late.” He simply said, “I will be waiting for you.” The dance was special, but the dinner service was terribly slow. I soon developed indigestion. The longer it went, the worse I felt. When we got back to her home, I found the father had kept his promise. There in his big leather chair was this wonderful, concerned family patriarch waiting for one of his fine daughters to be safely back under his own roof. He said something like this, “What keeps you out so late, James?”

Because I grew up outside of the Church, the law of chastity was not always something I lived by—it wasn’t something I even knew about. My mom never taught my twin brother or me about keeping any moral standards. We, as well as our younger brother, had been born out of wedlock. Our dad would often move in with a woman the moment they started dating.

As I got older, my conversations with friends were filled with derogatory language. In high school I started dating a guy who also did not live by the standards of the Church, and doing things outside of the law of chastity just felt like a normal “rite of passage” into adulthood.

But when I started taking lessons with the missionaries when I was 18, they taught me about how I should have clean thoughts, good language, and actions that reflected Christ’s teachings. At first, I was crushed. I had been living a life without the law of chastity, and I felt like I was broken—too far gone. It felt like even if I truly repented, I would never be fully forgiven of my sins. I told myself that Christ would continue to hold my mistakes over my head. I was constantly thinking about how I had let Him down—without even knowing it. Not only that, but I also felt as though following the law of chastity wasn’t attainable.

Questions from the adversary flooded my mind, making me second-guess what I was learning about chastity. While taking lessons with the missionaries, I was in a relationship that did not prioritize staying morally clean, and I thought that joining the Church would change the relationship. Maybe The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints wasn’t a good fit for me. I remember thinking, “I have already given up so much. And now this?” It made me question if joining the Church was even worth it.

But I couldn’t deny the truth I had found within the Church. If I knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet, then that meant that the law of chastity must be a true commandment from the Lord. It was a nonnegotiable. I knew that my next challenge would be applying the law to my life and striving each day to be better.

It was not going to be something I could change overnight. There were times when I fell short. I felt like it was a never-ending cycle; I would try my hardest to do better and then I would revert to my old ways. When I had finally reached the point where I was obeying the law of chastity and felt like I could look my Maker in the eyes and say, “I’m trying; I’m doing my best with a willing heart,” I still kept remembering all the times I had “messed up.” I had to remind myself that I knew in my heart that the Lord forgives when we truly repent, which I had. But that didn’t really stop me from still feeling like a disappointment.

Since then I have realized that the Lord will forgive us, but we must learn to forgive ourselves as well. Heavenly Father wants us to recognize our mistakes, repent, strive to do better, and move on. Satan, however, wants us to be chained to our sins. Those feelings of failure were Satan telling me, “You can’t do this. You’re crazy for even thinking you can.” But I know the Lord loves me and wants to see me grow in my faith. He wants that for all of His children.

Now, being a member of the Church for just over a year, I have seen the blessings that come from following the law of chastity. I don’t feel broken and confused anymore. Yes, I still sometimes have moments when Satan tempts me with the temporary satisfaction that comes from immorality, but I’ve learned that true satisfaction can come only through Christ. I know that He blesses us when we follow His commandments.

I’ve also learned that you can never be too far gone to receive the blessings of the gospel. Heavenly Father welcomes us back with open arms. Those doubts I had didn’t come from Christ or Heavenly Father. He gave us the law of chastity to protect us and guide us along on the covenant path. Learning about this law has strengthened my testimony of the Savior’s Atonement immensely. The Lord loves each of us. We may mess up, but we also have the opportunity to learn and grow from our mistakes—to repent. He has not given us this commandment to make life tough; He did it because He loves us.1

I am so grateful for the law of chastity and everything it has taught me. I’ve seen how it has blessed my life, and I know it will bless others too.

The call of duty came to John E. Page when the Prophet Joseph Smith extended to him a call to serve as a missionary. John E. Page “murmured” and responded, “Brother Joseph, I can’t go on a mission to Canada. I don’t even have a coat to wear.”

The Prophet Joseph removed his own coat, handed it to Brother Page, and said, “Here, take this and the Lord will bless you.” John E. Page went on that mission to Canada and, during a two-year period, walked five thousand miles and baptized six hundred people. (See Andrew Jenson, “John E. Page,” The Historical Record, 5:57.)