Gospel Story Finder

In addition to so many other responsibilities, the President of the Church receives a great deal of correspondence each day. I am reminded of one such letter and share it with you. I have changed the name of the young man who wrote the letter. It begins:
“Dear President,
“Hi. My name is David Smith. I live in an area where the starlings are very bad, and they are making nests in my step-grandpa’s boat and in my dad’s barn and all over the place. My step-grandpa and my dad both think I should shoot them, but my mom doesn’t. I know the law says it is okay, but I am not asking your opinion as a hunter. I am asking your opinion as a Church leader.
“Sincerely, David Smith
“P.S. A starling is a black bird that eats other bird’s eggs and other bad things.”
Each letter which comes in is answered. A response to this particular letter was sent by the secretary to the First Presidency, F. Michael Watson.
“Dear David:
“I have been asked to acknowledge your letter of April 30 addressed to the President of the Church about the problems you have been having with starlings.
“The Church does not have an official policy on this matter. The Brethren feel it should be left up to your parents to give you appropriate guidance.
“I hope this information is helpful to you.
“Sincerely yours, F. Michael Watson”

One way to recognize our self-worth is to recognize the self-worth of those around us. Focusing on others helps us feel good about ourselves because we are building others up. It’s a win-win! When I struggled with self-confidence, I decided I would serve someone around me who needed help. Every day for a month I gave a compliment to a friend who was struggling. Focusing on others helped me feel worthy and needed. When we strive to love others for who they are, it becomes easier to see how much God loves us. Helping others feel worthy of love will help us feel worthy of love ourselves.
Jayme W., 15, Minnesota, USA

In February I decided to read to people in my ward and my relatives for 10 cents a minute and donate all the money for a wheelchair through the LDS Humanitarian Services.
I got the idea from a story in the February 2015 Friend about Zach’s lemonade stand. I wanted to combine service and my reading talent to earn enough money for a wheelchair.
I have read 414 minutes and earned $208! Some people donated extra money, and some people let me read to them over video chat!
Sometimes it was tiring to read for a long time, but I kept on reading because I knew that is what Jesus wanted me to do.

Such preparation came partly through raising nine children. “When our children were young, we would tell them fairy tales at bedtime,” Sister Lant says. The children would ask, “Is that story true?” It didn’t take long for the Lants to decide, “Let’s use this time to teach our children the truth” and share scripture stories instead.
“When you tell a scripture story at bedtime, the next day when a child is stretching his wings a little and not wanting to follow your counsel, you can say, ‘Do you want to be like Nephi or Laman and Lemuel?’ Children relate.”

“A Good Sense of Humor” by Chris Crowe in the May 1986 New Era was a good and much-needed topic. While reading it, I recalled times when I was the brunt of jokes and ridicule. But I also remembered times when my careless words really hurt.
One such time I had the opportunity to repent but never did. Now I have even forgotten the name of the person I hurt. Could you help me reach out to her?
The incident occurred in 1966 at a bus stop in Salt Lake City following a state FFA Convention. The Dixie and Hurricane chapters traveled together and cheered for the Hurricane Harvest Queen. She didn’t even place. As she boarded the bus, the losing queen had a formal gown in one hand and a suitcase in the other. She held a spray bottle of hair spray in her mouth. A few of us rowdy boys made fun of her situation. “No wonder she lost the contest!” I jeered. We had wanted her to win and were just having fun.
She cried most of the way home. Though there was an empty seat beside her, I was too fearful to go apologize for my mistake.
The years have flown. Many a time I would have relived that night, would have apologized, would have held my tongue. But that cannot be. I did learn from it, and I don’t point jokes at others anymore.
Jay BeachamIvins, Utah

Serving a full-time mission in the Dominican Republic, I had just been transferred to a new area that had a reputation of being difficult to find people to teach. When I arrived, we had only one investigator. His name was Oriviades. He had attended church before, but because he was deaf and communicated using sign language, previous missionaries hadn’t been able to teach him.
One day my companion and I decided to fast and pray for a miracle that would allow us to teach Oriviades. We set an appointment with him at a time when one of his family members would be available to help translate, since neither my companion nor I knew sign language.
When we arrived to meet with Oriviades, however, none of his family members was there. When Oriviades briefly left to get a chair, my companion and I took the opportunity to pray that the Spirit would guide us. Before we had even finished the prayer, I felt the Spirit’s presence strongly.
Oriviades began signing, but we couldn’t understand him. We simply smiled at him and looked at each other, trying to figure out what we should do. We decided to write a note indicating a time for our next appointment, hoping that next time we would have a translator. But suddenly both of us felt strongly that we should stay and try to teach him. “Let’s at least try—the Spirit will help us,” I told my companion.
We tried using drawings and rudimentary hand signals as we taught the lesson. Gradually we started understanding Oriviades’s signs and were able to sign in reply to him. He seemed to understand us perfectly.
We felt prompted to share our testimonies with him. We showed him a picture of the First Vision, and I wrote on a piece of paper, “I know it’s true.”
Then, using signs, Oriviades responded, “I know it’s true—God told me. I prayed and know it’s true.”
My companion and I left the appointment with tears in our eyes. I knew that God had allowed us to testify of the restored gospel to this investigator and that the Holy Ghost had carried our message unto his heart (see 2 Nephi 33:1). I learned that we don’t need to speak perfectly or eloquently when we share the gospel—sometimes, we don’t need to speak at all.
It’s incredible how simple things like fasting, prayer, and faith can work mighty miracles in our lives and in the lives of those we serve.

Around this time of loneliness, one of my friends participated in a 100-day gratitude challenge where she posted something she was grateful for on social media every day. At first it seemed ridiculous to me.
But as President Russell M. Nelson recently taught: “Counting our blessings is far better than recounting our problems. No matter our situation, showing gratitude for our privileges is a fast-acting and long-lasting spiritual prescription.”1
I have always been taught that gratitude can bring happiness, but I didn’t really believe it. But if there was a chance that it could help me feel joy, then I was going to try practicing gratitude too.
At first I focused a lot on the extravagant things in my life I was grateful for. But soon I noticed everyday blessings, like my cat, good relationships, the inspirational quotes on my social media feed, and my talents.
I’m always grateful for the moments of peace I feel, and I silently thank God when I notice His mercies that often carry me through the day, reminding me that He has great things in store for me.
I remember when President Nelson invited the sisters and youth of the Church to do social media fasts. Since accepting that first invitation, I’ve fasted from social media multiple times when I’ve felt that it’s creating the “impression that everyone except [me] is leading a fun, adventurous, and exciting life.”2
Through taking much-needed breaks from social media, I’ve learned about the importance of real-life relationships and gained a greater appreciation for finding joy through hobbies and spiritual habits.
I’ve also been able to see others from a more Christlike view instead of judging them by the life highlights they post. As President Nelson added, “Social media … creates a false reality,”3 and if we take a break from it, we can better remember the things that matter most, overcome the world,4 and focus on the Spirit.
When I felt lonely during college, I always had this thought: “If I’m feeling lonely, someone else is too.” That would motivate me to reach out to a friend or acquaintance. Our conversations would always lift both of our spirits.
I’ve realized that when I focus on helping others, I’m happy. This happens every time I listen to my friends’ struggles and offer them love and support. Just as President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) said, “To find real happiness, we must seek for it in a focus outside ourselves.”5
As I continue to apply these practices to my life, I keep realizing that I do have a “best” life and I don’t have to wait on specific blessings to feel joy. Sometimes I let my unmet expectations overwhelm me, but I reorient myself to notice my blessings and remember that through trusting Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and keeping my covenants, I can find a lasting joy I can’t get any other way.
I still may not have all the blessings in life I desire right now, but I like to remember these words from Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “The day will come when you turn the final pages of your own glorious story ... and experience the fulfillment of those blessed and wonderful words: ‘And they lived happily ever after.’”6
Until then, I will keep focusing on enjoying the best life I have with God’s help.

As you look in the first file you’ll see Adam’s plan. It’s simple: “For every five dollars I get, I give two to my mission fund,” he says. He also always makes sure to pay his tithing before he sets aside the 40 percent for his mission.
Adam started saving while trying to fulfill his goals in the Duty to God program. One of the goals is to start saving money for a mission. “I just opened a bag, stuck some money in, and started,” he says. He plans on opening a bank account right away.
Starting at 12 might seem early, but Adam’s really excited that he has seven years to save for his mission. He’s not old enough to have a part-time job, but he does jobs for people in his neighborhood, such as emptying recycling bins, shoveling walks, and putting newspapers on the front doorsteps of a few elderly widows. He’s up early in the morning to get his jobs done, and he counts his jobs as small blessings that will one day help his mission fund add up.
“A mission is one of the most important parts of your life. Save up now, and go for two years to help people come to the gospel, and you will be blessed,” Adam says.
Along with his financial preparation, Adam has also set a goal to finish reading the Book of Mormon by the time he’s 13. He reads every day. He’s also trying to magnify his calling as a deacon, so he will be prepared to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood when the time comes. His dad went on a mission, as did his grandpa and great-grandpa Sessions. He’s looking forward to following in their footsteps.

I was recently going through a really hard time, and I didn’t know what to do, so I prayed for help and guidance. I went to my Young Women class that Sunday, and the lesson that our Young Women president gave was the answer to my prayer. She gave us a piece of paper that read, “Who Am I?” at the top. We had to see how many words we could come up with to describe ourselves. We came up with a few, and then we watched a talk by Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, and we had to write down more things about ourselves that we’d heard in the talk.
I liked that so much that I came home and wrote this on a poster and hung it on my wall: “Who am I? I am a daughter of God. I am a friend. I am a leader. I am known and loved by my Savior. I am strong. I stand for truth. I am Camryn.” I also wrote that on a piece of paper and hung it in my locker. Whenever I was feeling frustrated about my situation, I just thought about what I had written. I am so grateful for getting an answer to my prayer from that lesson.
Camryn T., Utah, USA

A true story from the USA.
Edith listened to the pitter-patter of rain against the window. Drip, drip, drip.
She frowned. It had rained all day, and the sky was gray. It was cold and sad outside. Kind of like her.
She sat on a bench in a quiet corner, tugging on her itchy black dress. Her shiny new shoes were black too. She wished she was home instead of at the funeral place.
Her older cousin, Savannah, sat down next to her. “How are you doing?” Savannah asked. All her family had traveled to be at the funeral this morning. Everyone wore black clothes and looked sad.
Edith shrugged. “OK, I guess.” She didn’t really want to talk. Her dad had died a few days ago in an accident. She felt all twisted up inside thinking about it. She missed him so much.
Savannah reached an arm around her, and Edith leaned in. She was grateful for her cousin. But why did God have to take her dad away from them?
“Is God mad at me?” Edith asked.
Savannah frowned. “Why do you think that?”
Edith looked at her shoes. “He took my daddy away.”
Edith felt tears in her eyes. She looked up to see Savannah wiping away a few tears of her own.
“Edith,” Savannah said, “Heavenly Father isn’t mad at you at all. He loves you and your family so much. Sometimes things happen that we don’t understand, but He always loves us.”
“Really?” Edith asked.
Savannah nodded. “Really. It can help to remember that you’ll see your dad again! Because Jesus Christ was resurrected, we’ll all be resurrected too.” She smiled. “And we can try to remember all of the things we love about your dad to keep him close.”
Edith thought about her dad. He loved talking about Jesus. He had the best smile and the funniest laugh. He gave the best hugs. And he always cheered her up when she was feeling sad. Suddenly, she felt warm, like she was getting a hug right from her dad.
She looked up. “That helps a little. But I’m still sad.”
“It’s OK to be sad. I’m really sad too,” Savannah said. “We all miss your dad a lot.”
Edith thought about something she had learned in Primary. “Heavenly Father can help us when we’re sad,” she said. “Can we say a prayer right now?”
Savannah nodded, and they folded their arms.
“Heavenly Father, thank Thee for Jesus and His Resurrection,” Edith said. “Thank Thee for always loving us. Please take care of my dad. Please help us to remember him and keep him close in our hearts. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Edith opened her eyes and took a deep breath.
When they walked out of the building, it was still cold and rainy. But now there was a tiny ray of sunshine peeking out through the gray clouds. It still seemed sad outside, but now, it felt just a little bit hopeful too. Kind of like her.

Early one evening I walked into the kitchen where my parents were, and almost instantly I could tell that something was wrong. They had their heads bowed together in conversation.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, thinking it was nothing more than a leaky faucet.
“Kristen, Mrs. Johnson called today,” my mother began, her voice soft and gentle. Mrs. Johnson had been our friend and neighbor in Ohio, before we moved.
“Honey, remember when you used to baby-sit for the Herrera children? After we moved, the doctors discovered that Mrs. Herrera had a brain tumor that was in a place that couldn’t be operated on. By the time they found it she only had three months left to live. She died a little while ago.” I could tell that Mom was trying to break the news gently because she knew how much I had liked their family, especially Mrs. Herrera.
I nodded my head and half ran, half stumbled out of the kitchen. Once I was safely hidden in my room, I flopped down on my bed and the tears came. I thought of her children and how they were too young to be without a mother. I could remember nights that I baby-sat for them, when they would pretend to be asleep, but the moment their mom walked through the door they would jump out of bed and run to her.
I crossed my arms over my chest and stared angrily up at the ceiling. It seemed so unfair that Heavenly Father would allow a mother to be taken away, especially from four small children who needed her so much.
Finally, in search of some comfort, I picked up my scriptures and flipped through the pages until three verses in the Doctrine and Covenants caught my eye. “And all they who have mourned shall be comforted. And all they who have given their lives for my name shall be crowned. Therefore, let your hearts be comforted concerning Zion; for all flesh is in mine hands; be still and know that I am God” (D&C 101:14–16).
It was exactly what I needed to read, and it had been there all along in my scriptures. I’d always heard that the scriptures would help me in my life, but I never really understood how until that day. Throughout my life I know that I will have many challenges and obstacles that I must overcome, but now I will remember where to look when I am in need of comfort.

It is through the power of the priesthood that marriage and the family unit can extend into and continue throughout all eternity. The conscientious women of this Church wish to have such a righteous influence in abundance in their homes.

Just a few weeks ago, in a stake conference, one gracious mother joyously recounted a marvelous experience of being in one of the temples with her husband and with all of her children but one and being sealed together as husband and wife and family for time and all eternity. Her husband, newly involved in the priesthood, sat in the conference audience a few rows back. For a moment she seemed to forget all of the rest of us and spoke only to him. Over the pulpit, and through the loudspeaker, with over 1,000 people in tears watching and listening, she said, “John, the children and I don’t know how to tell you what you mean to us. Until you honored the priesthood, the greatest blessings of eternity would not open up for us. Now they have. We all love you very much and we thank you with all our hearts for what you have made possible for us.”

I learned as a young high school athlete that rules sometimes are more important than winning. I guess I have shared this experience a time or two around the Church, but I remember when I went in to sign up for varsity baseball. I was 15 years old. I went over to the gym where the head coach was officed. Scared to death, butterflies in my stomach, I knocked on his door. “Come in,” was the reply, and I walked in. He said, “What can I do for you, young man?”

I said, “Where do you sign up for varsity baseball?”

My coach made a very interesting observation. He said, “Do you want to play ball, or do you want to be a champion?” Well, that was kind of crazy. I wanted to play ball.

I said, “I came to play baseball.”

“Well,” he said, “we’re all filled up. Thank you.” And he excused me.

I went out, and he shut the door. There was a drinking fountain there, and I took a drink of water and thought, “Well, now, what’s that all about?”

Fortunately I had the stamina to knock on the door again. He said, “Come in.” I walked in.

I said, “I want to sign up for varsity baseball.”

He said, “I asked you a question. Do you want to play ball or do you want to be a champion?”

Finally it sank in. I said, “I want to be a champion.”

“Oh,” he said. “Then sign here.” He said, “At this school we build champions. We don’t play ball.” There’s a difference I have learned.

Well, the year went on, and somehow I made the team and had some great and glorious experiences. As we came down to the final innings of the season, Fairfax High (our archrival) and Hollywood (which I represented) ended in a dead heat—a tie. There would be a one-game playoff on Friday afternoon on our home field.

Thursday afternoon our coach got us all out on the ball field. We were standing around him, as players do with their coaches, and he was giving us some instruction, fired-up enthusiasm, motivation. Then he turned and said, “Paul, you’ll pitch tomorrow.” I was thrilled but scared.

I want to give you a little flashback. This was an interesting coach, not a member of the Church, but a man who had seen in contests the great ability to build youth. He had each boy on his team sign a contract, not a professional contract, but a contract of rules and regulations. There were some thou shalts and thou shalt nots, and one of them had to do with the Word of Wisdom, although he had never heard of it. He said, “Now, if you’re going to play ball for me, you’ll play according to the rules. Is that understood?”

And I said, “Yes, sir,” as did all the other players. So we signed our contracts, and he kept them on file, and occasionally he would remind us.

Well, as he was giving his pep talk, our all-star second baseman was standing in the circle with his hands on his hips. When the coach made a pass, he stopped and he did a double take. “Jimmy,” he said, “is that a nicotine stain on your finger?” Jimmy put out his hand.

He said, “Yes, sir.”

Then he said, “Well, don’t you know the rule?”

“Well, yes, sir.”

“Did you sign a contract with me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you know the penalty?”

“Yes, sir.” And this was being said in front of the whole team.

He said, “You’ve lost your privilege. Turn in your uniform.

I almost shouted, but I didn’t, “Coach, wait till tomorrow! We’ve got a game.”

Jimmy was batting .380 and as a second baseman had not made an error in league play. And he now had to turn in his uniform. Our coach was the kind of person who kept close to the boys, even when he disciplined them. He didn’t lose him, but he wouldn’t let him play.

The next day I drew the assignment to pitch. The game went into extra innings, and they beat us one to nothing in the top of the 13th. Do you know how it happened? A ground ball was hit to second, and the ball went through the substitute’s legs, and that proved to be the winning run. Well, I went home that night and literally cried myself to sleep because I wanted to win. You see, I hate to lose.

Well, that was many years ago. I thank God this day for a great man, a great coach, who taught me that playing according to the rules was more important than winning.

The TET offensive was at its height in Vietnam when I received orders to report to Korea. I was to become Chief of Professional Services for the Surgeon of the U. S. Army and for the United Nations Forces. I had been at my new assignment only a month when a male nurse, no older than many of the other young soldiers I deal with daily, arrived at the same command.
My surprise came when he asked to see me alone one day and said, “Colonel, as near as I can see, there are only six ‘straight arrows’ in this entire command (‘straight arrow’ was a term the soldiers used to mean a man who maintained his chastity while in the service). You are the one I admire most. I desire very much to go back home to my wife and family pure, but I’m afraid I don’t have the courage and stamina to do it. Are you going to remain a straight arrow? How are you going to do it?”
I was a bit surprised by the abruptness of his inquiry, but I knew the answer. I had faced the same decision and found my own answer long before I had arrived in the Far East. I told him I would remain a straight arrow throughout my tour in Korea and forever. I said I didn’t know how strong I was because I didn’t allow myself to get in a position where I could be tempted. I also told him I didn’t anesthetize my conscience by drinking.
Then I bore my testimony about Church-related activities during my off-duty hours, noting that they provided a wholesome means for keeping me occupied.
As our conversation progressed, I realized that this young man deeply loved his wife. I told him that if he lost his virtue, it would somehow be conveyed in the next letter he wrote to her and that a great wall would begin to rise between them. He acknowledged that he knew this to be true, and we both realized that we had seen it occur in the lives of our unchaste friends. We then made a contract. He promised to maintain his chastity as long as I maintained mine. We attempted to involve others in a similar agreement, but no one wanted to join us.
About two months later, my friend returned to my office. “Well, Colonel,” he said, “there are now only four straight arrows left in this outfit.” Shortly after that he came again to tell me that the number was down to three. When I had just four months remaining to finish my duty in Korea, he came in one day and said, “It’s down to you and me.” I asked him if he was going to make it. His reply? “Absolutely.”
When the time came for me to return to the United States, my friend faced one more month before he could rejoin his wife. We had often discussed the gospel and our friendship was a sturdy bond. We both wept as I bid him farewell. He assured me that he would do nothing during his last month that would jeopardize in any way the happiness he had worked for until now, not when he was so close to reaching his goal.
Even though that young man was not a member of the Church, he understood some vital lessons of life. He knew that it is necessary to set a goal in order to obtain it. Returning home clean and pure would require struggle, and he was willing to put forth the necessary effort. He also was humble enough to let someone else know about his objective so that he would have a person to turn to who could strengthen him during a moment of weakness.
The Savior would like to have a similar relationship with those he loves. He wants us to set our goals high, founded on his commandments. We can work with him by planning in advance what we hope to achieve and reviewing our goals with him regularly in prayer. Many of the other soldiers in our outfit thought about remaining straight arrows. However, this young fellow and I were the only two who succeeded, and there was a reason why. The others succumbed in a moment of weakness. We accomplished our goal by planning what we would do in advance.

I stammered and stuttered during my growing-up years. In school, I would never be involved in anything that required more than a minimum of speaking. My parents sent me to speech teachers and therapists, but they couldn’t correct my problem. However, just before my father became ill, I received my patriarchal blessing. It said, in part, “Lloyd, you have problems. Know this—the Lord loves you and wants you to be happy. I bless you that you shall go out into the world and preach the gospel with force to a waiting world.” Because of this blessing, I accepted a call to the Southern States Mission.
The first month of my mission was terrible. I had never administered the sacrament or given a talk. My companion had me talk to one lady at her door, and I stuttered and stammered terribly. After a month of not making any improvement, I prayed, “Lord, now is the time. If I don’t have relief from this affliction, the mission president will send me home. Lord, it has to be now!”
Gradually I was able to speak more fluently. After six months I went back to some elderly sisters that we had taught, and I really gave them and some others what I thought was my best talk. Afterward, with tears in their eyes, some of them came up to me and said, “The Lord has really blessed you.” After that experience, I learned about the real power of prayer.

While recently touring the beautiful Brigham City Utah Temple, I was reminded of an experience that I had while serving as the coordinator of the open house, rededication, and cultural celebration of the historic Laie Hawaii Temple.
A few months prior to the completion of the extensive renovation work, I was invited to tour the temple with the Executive Director of the Temple Department, Elder William R. Walker, and his Temple Department associates. In addition, various members of the general contracting firm were in attendance. The purpose of the tour, in part, was to review the progress and quality of the work performed. At the time of this tour, the work was about 85 percent completed.
As we moved through the temple, I watched and listened to Elder Walker and his associates as they inspected the work and conversed with the general contractor. On occasion I observed one man running his hand along the walls as we moved from room to room. A few times after doing this, he would rub his fingers together and then approach the general contractor and say, “I feel grit on this wall. Grit is not temple standard. You will need to re-sand and buff this wall.” The contractor dutifully took notes of each observation.
As we approached an area in the temple that few eyes would ever see, the same man stopped us and directed our attention to a newly installed, beautiful leaded-glass window. This window measured about two feet (0.6 m) wide by six feet (1.8 m) tall and contained an embedded, small stained-glass geometric pattern. He pointed to a small two-inch (5 cm) colored-glass square that was part of the simple pattern and said, “That square is crooked.” I looked at the square, and to my eyes it looked evenly placed. However, upon closer inspection with a measuring device in hand, I could see there was a flaw and that this little square was indeed one-eighth of an inch (3 mm) crooked. Direction was then given to the contractor that this window would need to be replaced because it was not temple standard.
I admit that I was surprised that an entire window would need to be replaced because of such a small, barely noticeable defect. Surely, it was unlikely that anyone would ever know or even notice this window given its remote location in the temple.
As I drove home from the temple that day, I reflected on what I learned from this experience—or, rather, what I thought I learned. It wasn’t until several weeks later when I was invited to tour the now completed temple that my understanding of the prior tour experience became clearer.
As I entered the completely renovated Laie Hawaii Temple, I was overwhelmed by its beauty and quality of finish. You can appreciate my anticipation as I approached the “gritty” walls and the “flawed” window. Did the contractor re-sand and buff the walls? Was the window really replaced? As I approached the gritty walls, I was surprised to see that beautiful wallpaper now hung on all the walls. My first thought was, “So this is how the contractor addressed the grit—he covered it.” But, no, I learned that it had always been the plan to hang wallpaper on these walls. I wondered why a little hardly detectable grit mattered if wallpaper was to cover it. I then eagerly approached the area where the flawed window was located and was surprised to see a beautiful floor-to-ceiling potted plant sitting directly in front of the window. Again I thought, “So this is how the contractor addressed the crooked little square—he hid it.” As I moved closer, I pushed the plant’s leaves aside and smiled as I saw that the window had indeed been replaced. The formerly crooked little square now stood neatly and evenly in the pattern. I learned that it had always been part of the interior design to have a plant in front of this window.
Why would walls with a little grit and a window with a little asymmetry require additional work and even replacement when few human hands or eyes would ever know? Why was a contractor held to such high standards?
As I exited the temple deep in thought, I found my answer as I looked up at the refinished exterior and saw these words: “Holiness to the Lord, the House of the Lord.”

“At a distant conference, my plane brought me to the city many hours early. The stake president met me at the airport and took me to his home. Having important work to do, he excused himself and returned to his work. With the freedom of the house, I spread my papers on the kitchen table and began my work. His wife was upstairs sewing. In mid-afternoon, there came an abrupt entry through the front door and a little fellow came running in, surprised to see me. We became friends; then he ran through the rooms calling, ‘Mother.’ She answered from upstairs, ‘What is it, darling?’ and his answer was, ‘Oh, nothing.’ He went out to play.
“A little later another boy came in the front door calling, ‘Mother, Mother.’ He put his school books on the table and explored the house until the reassuring answer came from upstairs again, ‘Here I am, darling,’ and the second one was satisfied and said, ‘Okay,’ and went to play. Another half hour and the door opened again and a young teenager moved in, dropped her books, and called, ‘Mother.’ And the answer from upstairs, ‘Yes, darling,’ seemed to satisfy and the young girl began practicing her music lesson.
“Still another voice later called, ‘Mother,’ as she unloaded her high school books. And again the sweet answer, ‘I am up here sewing, darling,’ seemed to reassure her. She tripped up the stairs to tell her mother the happenings of the day. Home! Mother! Security! Just to know Mother was home. All was well.” (Faith Precedes the Miracle, pp. 117–18.)

I recently met a remarkable young woman, 17-year-old Caylee, as she shared her heartfelt feelings in a stake conference. She declared that God is real, the Church is true, and President Russell M. Nelson is God’s prophet. She also bore strong witness that the negative things some say about the Church and the gospel of Jesus Christ are false.
I was impressed by Caylee’s conviction and her ability to discern what is true and what isn’t.
But I was even more impressed when I spoke with Caylee after the meeting and discovered that her discernment and conviction had not come easily. In fact, she had endured a serious challenge to her faith.
Here is what she shared.
Caylee has always been active in the Church. However, as she began to think deeply about the gospel and the Church, some serious questions arose in her mind. She felt guilty for questioning and began searching for answers.
“My problem,” Caylee says, “was I searched in all the wrong places. Rather than searching scriptures or conference talks and talking to my parents, I came upon different articles online claiming they had the answers to my questions.”
Initially, Caylee thought the online articles were shining light on her questions. However, she says, “As I continued investigating my questions, everything I read filled me with more and more questions and more and more doubt.”
Caylee began losing both faith and hope. “The light from my testimony was flickering,” she remembers, “and I gradually stopped doing things I had been taught—reading the scriptures, praying, and attending seminary.”
She eventually became overwhelmed by the darkness and confusion she felt. She says, “I couldn’t determine what was from God and what was a crazy idea twisted and created by someone to throw me off. I could no longer discern what was truth and what was deception. It was tearing me apart.”
Caylee compares her situation to Joseph Smith’s when he said, “At length I came to the conclusion that I must either remain in darkness and confusion, or else I must do as James directs, that is, ask of God. I at length came to the determination to ‘ask of God’ [James 1:5], concluding that if he gave wisdom to them that lacked wisdom, and would give liberally, and not upbraid, I might venture” (Joseph Smith—History 1:13).
At this critical point, Caylee reached out to her seminary teacher, her grandmother, and her mother. Her seminary teacher assured her that her feelings weren’t wrong and that she wasn’t the only person with questions. Her teacher shared her testimony and recommended reading material that could help Caylee in her search.
Caylee’s grandmother didn’t preach. She simply urged her to consider which sources of information uplifted her—the online information or Church doctrine? Caylee began comparing: “Which one uplifted me? Which one brought joy and peace to my soul? Which one taught me that I would be with my family forever in a state of never-ending happiness if I followed God’s commandments? Which one put nagging voices in my head?”
Caylee’s mother encouraged her to pray. Eventually, Caylee went to her room and poured out her soul to God. She explains: “Nothing happened. No angels came down. My heart didn’t fill up with peace and gratitude. I went back to my mom. We prayed together, and she encouraged me to read the Book of Mormon for 10 minutes. As I read, I felt a promise in my heart that if I continued to do this, I would see blessings. I would be able to see clearly and know which teachings were from God and which were not.”
Caylee began to pray every day and read the Book of Mormon. She stayed away from Twitter and the websites that started her doubts in the first place. She went to seminary with the intent to learn, not to look for negative things about the Church.
After about two weeks of consistent effort, she felt the negative voices get quieter. School went better. Work was more enjoyable, and she had a better relationship with her parents. She was happier.
Because of that happiness, she says, “I finally saw my answer. I was able to discern what was from God and what was not because I saw firsthand what He was doing for me when I did what He asks.”
“That,” she concludes, “is the only way you can truly discern what is truth from God and what is not. We can study and ponder and question all we want, but until we do as James directs and what Joseph Smith did—ask and act—only then can we truly know what is true and what isn’t.”

The next few weeks were busy ones. School started again, and then my eighth birthday came along almost before I realized it. After my baptism and confirmation, a few things began to change. I started getting up a little earlier each morning to read the Book of Mormon before I went to school. That was hard because I hate getting up in the morning, but I was determined to make it all the way through that book.
I also started fasting each month on fast Sunday. There aren’t many things I like to do more than eat, so I forgot sometimes; but even so, I started noticing a difference in how I felt about testimony meeting.
I began paying more attention to what each speaker was saying, and that made the meeting a lot more interesting. I found out that Sister Johnson had joined the Church when she was twenty-six years old. I thought she’d been a member all her life! And I loved it when Brother Badger bore his testimony. He had exciting stories to tell about his life and about miracles he had witnessed.
I finished the Book of Mormon early the next summer. There were great stories and teachings in it, and I was happy that I’d reached my goal. But Moroni had written in the last chapter that if you read the Book of Mormon and want to know if it’s true, you should ponder it in your heart and pray to Heavenly Father about it. He promised that if you do that with faith in Jesus Christ and with a sincere heart, the Holy Ghost will help you know that it’s true. I decided to try it out for myself.
The rest of that week I prayed every morning and night. Sometimes I even said a quick prayer in my mind when I was at school, but I never saw a vision or even heard a voice that told me the Book of Mormon was true. I felt like giving up, but I really wanted to know, so I just kept on praying.
The next fast Sunday, I fasted to know if the Book of Mormon was true. I spent a lot of time on my knees, and I reread some of my favorite parts. It was amazing how seldom I thought about food.
Testimony meeting was going along great that day. I was even happy for Molly Prentiss when she went up and bore her testimony. Then Brother Badger went to the front to speak. His quiet voice trembled as he spoke of his great love for the scriptures and how he knew of the truth of the gospel.
As he spoke, a strange feeling started in a little spot in my chest. It got warmer and bigger until my whole body was filled with glowing, tingly warmth. When he finished, that warmth seemed to make me want to go right to the pulpit. As I stood to bear my testimony, a few words came right from my soul: “I know that the Book of Mormon is true. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

I’ll always remember the dinner at my 40th high school reunion. I was anxious to see old friends I hadn’t seen in years and find out what had happened in their lives since high school.
While we were chatting at a table with 8 or 10 other classmates during dinner, one of my old friends, Greg Link, mentioned that he had been baptized into the Church when he was in his 20s.
Then he asked a piercing question: “Why was it that none of you offered me a Book of Mormon in high school? Didn’t you think I was Church material?”
Another old friend—who wasn’t a member of the Church—said, “You could have had one of mine; I was given about 50 of them!”
I was stunned. Back in high school, if you had told me that Greg would be baptized and become a successful motivational speaker, I wouldn’t have believed it. I really liked Greg. He was the kind of loyal friend you could count on when you needed him. But I knew he liked to party, and he had a knack for getting into trouble. It just didn’t ever occur to me that he would have any interest in hearing about the Church. The funny thing was, I had believed that the other friend, with whom I had shared the gospel and whom I had given a copy of the Book of Mormon, would one day join. The fact of the matter is, you just never know who is ready to accept the gospel and who is not.
I felt a little sheepish after that conversation with Greg because I, like so many others, hadn’t shared the gospel with him. I asked him how he finally joined the Church. Here is his story:
My family moved to Salt Lake City, Utah, when I was about 11, but I didn’t join the Church until I was 24. Looking back, I can see why no one shared the gospel with me. I was not a golden contact on the surface. Actually, I was a bit of a rowdy kid. I got into fights and got into trouble at school regularly.
I had a number of LDS friends, but only one ever talked about the Church. And that was because I teased him about reading the Book of Mormon when he babysat.
I was curious about things, though. My mom took me to a local Christian church. I once asked them why Jesus hadn’t come to the Americas. They kind of laughed at me for asking such a question, so I didn’t ask anything else about it.
Years later I decided to visit the visitors’ center on Temple Square in Salt Lake City. There was a diorama on Christ in America. Suddenly I remembered my questions about that topic from my younger years. That’s when the Spirit hit me, and I knew I was ready to listen.
The example of my friends from high school stayed with me. In fact, the people I respected most were LDS. Randy Ridd and his wife both went to my school. They were always great examples, very good people. That made a big impact on me later. I thought, “If Randy believed this was real, it must be important.”
I don’t know what might have happened if they had shared more about the gospel at the time. I might not have been ready. But looking back, I wish they had. I know it would have had an impact on me.
I feel so grateful that my example had a positive impact on Greg. I would feel even better, though, if I had done something about it at the time. If I had shared the gospel or the Book of Mormon or even just invited Greg to an activity, it could have changed his life. He might have joined the Church sooner. Maybe he would have even served a mission.
I’ve learned that being a good example is truly important, but so is the responsibility to share the gospel. The Lord has commanded us to do so: “Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature” (Mark 16:15).
So don’t be afraid to share. What’s more, don’t be too quick to judge who is ready and who is not. You might just be surprised whose heart has been softened, even if that interest is hidden deep down where you can’t see it.