Gospel Story Finder

My name is Emily. Do you know what I like best about being me? I like having lots of feelings inside me, and I like showing my feelings in lots of different ways.
Today I gave a talk about Jesus Christ in Primary. I showed I was scared when my voice cracked.
I felt peaceful, though, when I looked up and saw my father and mother smiling at me. I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t laugh out loud when my big brother winked at me.
I felt happy when I told everyone that Jesus is my friend. I said, “Heavenly Father and Jesus love me, and I love them.”
I showed reverence when I walked to my seat with my arms folded. I closed my eyes and bowed my head when the closing prayer was given. I listened to the prayer and said amen at the end so that Father in Heaven knew I was praying too.
During sacrament meeting I sat still in my seat and thought about Jesus while the bread and water were being passed. I felt warm and calm and happy and peaceful. I felt the Holy Spirit inside my heart. I like that feeling best of all.

For example, a sister in Russia had a difficult family situation that prevented her from attending church for more than a year. Another sister in the branch reached out in compassion every Sunday by calling her to tell her about the talks, lessons, mission calls, babies born, and other news of the branch. When the housebound sister’s family situation was resolved, she felt like she was still a part of the branch because of her friend’s weekly calls.

Uncle Jack had been a policeman most of his life. His job was to help people who needed help. He used his radio to hear about people in trouble, his patrol car to get there in a hurry, and his badge to tell people he was a friend. He also used his fast legs, strong arms, and smart brain to come to the rescue.
Lots of people counted on Uncle Jack.
When Uncle Jack became a grandpa, he decided to put away his radio, his police car, and his badge and do something less dangerous. He didn’t like giving up the trusty aids that had helped him, but he decided that there were other ways to help people. So he began working as a security guard, making sure that the school buses were kept safe at night. He counted each bus as it came home after its long day of carrying children to and from school. Then he parked the buses all together in a huge building. Even though he didn’t need his radio, his fast car, or his badge to keep the buses safe, he did miss his old aids. Now the only aid he really needed was his big flashlight.
Because he cared about the children who would ride the buses the next morning, he walked around the building each night with his bright light, checking every door to make sure that no one could break in and cause problems.
One wintry night after Uncle Jack finished his job and got in his car to drive home, he heard the voice of the Holy Ghost whisper in his mind, “Go back into the building.” Uncle Jack thought, I have a long ride home. I’m hungry and tired, and I’d have to turn off the alarm before I could open the giant door.
He decided to keep driving.
About two blocks farther, the voice came again. This time it wasn’t a whisper. “Go back into the building.” But Uncle Jack just kept on driving.
About three blocks farther, he heard the voice for the third time. This time it was as loud as the crack of a baseball bat hitting a home run! Uncle Jack turned the car around, drove to the giant door, and left his car headlights shining on it. Then he turned off the alarm and began raising the heavy door.
As the door went up, the car lights shone brightly on a small boy standing alone in the darkness of the building. As Uncle Jack walked closer, he could see that the child’s face was streaked with tears.
He was a kindergartner who had fallen asleep in the back of the bus where no one had noticed. “I prayed that someone would help me,” the boy said. “I prayed and prayed.”
“Heavenly Father heard your prayer,” Uncle Jack told him. “I used to get messages over the police radio in my car, but this time Heavenly Father sent me a message through the Holy Ghost.”
Uncle Jack helped the lost boy find his parents, and everyone was safe and warm at home that night.
Even though he no longer had a fast car, a badge, or a radio to receive messages on, Uncle Jack was still in the business of helping people. Messages from the Holy Ghost had become his most important aid.

A few years after my wife, Gisèle, and I returned from presiding over the Fiji Suva Mission, Gisèle was diagnosed with stomach cancer. The ordeal would eventually include three delicate surgical operations and complications that resulted in the complete removal of her stomach. It was at the height of watching my wife’s suffering that I came to better understand the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
I remember feeling completely overwhelmed by what Gisèle was experiencing. What had she done to deserve such an affliction? Hadn’t she served the Lord faithfully? Hadn’t she lived the Word of Wisdom? Why couldn’t He have prevented this illness? Why?
One particular night I let my heart and my feelings burst in prayer as I recounted to the Lord all of my frustrations. “I can no longer stand to watch my dear wife endure such pain!” I told Him. Then I decided to turn to the scriptures. I found these comforting verses about Jesus Christ in Alma 7:11–12:
“And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.
“And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.”
Until that moment I had not considered all that the Savior’s wondrous Atonement entailed. I had not truly realized that Jesus Christ would take upon Him Gisèle’s pain—or mine. I shifted my hurt and fear upon Him who takes “the pains and the sicknesses of his people.” With this new understanding, I felt a heavy burden lifted!
Today, Gisèle is doing very well, as though she never had cancer. At her regular checkups, her doctor tells her that she is “a miracle.” I am so grateful for her physical healing, but I am also grateful for the healing that I experienced, a healing of the heart. The comfort that is available only through the Savior gave me a peaceful assurance that everything would be all right.
Now whenever I face tribulation, my thoughts always turn to that powerful lesson and to what the Lord told the Prophet Joseph Smith: “The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he?” (D&C 122:8). Remembering Jesus Christ’s sacrifice invariably comforts me.

We help ourselves as we help each other. A family I know lived near a busy road. Travelers often stopped to ask for help. Early one morning the family heard loud pounding on their door. Tired and worried who it would be at 2:00 a.m., they wondered if, just this once, someone else could help. As the insistent knocking continued, they heard, “Fire—there’s a fire in the back of your house!” Good Samaritans help each other.

On Friday morning in this historic tabernacle, and in the homes of Church members viewing or listening to the conference session, hands were raised to sustain a prophet, a seer, and a revelator—even the President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Our upraised hands were an outward expression of our inward feelings. As we raised our hands, we pledged our hearts. Could I for a moment mention the hands of that prophet, even President Harold B. Lee? I do so humbly and with his permission.
Some years ago, President Lee, directed by inspiration and revelation, called Dewitt J. Paul to serve as patriarch in one of the eastern stakes of the Church. The call humbled beyond words both Brother and Sister Paul. They wondered. They worried. They prayed for assurance and heavenly confirmation. Such did not come suddenly.
The vote of the people demonstrated their supporting approval. Then came the time for ordination. In a basement room situated two floors beneath the meeting hall in which the conference was held, Dewitt Paul nervously sat on a chair and, with a silent prayer in his heart, awaited his ordination. President Harold B. Lee then placed his hands upon the head of the newly called patriarch and began to speak. Peace replaced turmoil. Faith overcame doubt. Seated next to Sister Paul was a lifelong friend to whom Sister Paul had confided her concern. During the pronouncement of the blessing and ordination, she opened her eyes. As she did so she saw a ray of light shining upon President Lee as he placed his hands upon the head of Brother Paul. At the conclusion of the blessing, she hastened to tell Brother Lee of this confirmation of a call. She recounted how she saw the sunshine form the ray of light and how it brought a bright glow to the hands of President Lee. “Indeed, this is to you a confirmation of a sacred call,” said President Lee, “for as you look about this basement room, there is no window through which the sun might beam its rays.” Precious are the hands of a prophet.

Elder Asay’s father always hoped that his sons would become athletes. The boys were taught how to shoot baskets, throw balls, jump, and pole-vault in the training facilities their father had built for them in the orchard. “I was a pole-vaulter in high school,” Elder Asay remembered, “and won the state championship one year. I’d go home and work out in my father’s orchard because the facilities we had built were better than those at the high school.”
In the summertime, Elder Asay and his brothers spent some time with their father on the mountain range. He was a forest guard with the U.S. Forest Service each summer, and the boys loved to go with him. This was another ideal time for teaching and training. “We spent a lot of time in the canyons and the parks, repairing, painting, clearing trails, and doing other things for the Forest Service. It was great to be together out in nature,” Elder Asay recalled.
One such learning opportunity took place one day in a park where they were all working together, repairing some tables and benches at one of the camp picnic facilities. “My brother, who was about twelve at the time, found a full pack of cigarettes. And Dad must have seen him stealthily put it into his pocket. He called us together and asked him what he had picked up. My brother pulled the cigarettes out of his pocket. Dad said, ‘Open the pack.’
“Dad instructed each one of us to take one, saying, ‘Put it in your mouth and see how it tastes.’ Very quickly he had four spitting boys on his hands. Dad asked if any of us had liked the taste. We all said no. Then he told us to remember this experience, and added, ‘Tobacco doesn’t taste good, it isn’t good for you, and it isn’t in accord with God’s law.’
“We made a pact then and there that we would never touch cigarettes again.”
Elder Asay has many fond memories of farm work during his childhood. One summer he had a job tromping hay. The hay was stacked loosely on a wagon, and he would climb on the stack, settle the hay, and put it in place so the stack could be high and yet would balance. On the last load, at the end of the day, they would keep it on the wagon and ride with it into town.
One particular day the last load was stacked really high as Carlos and the others rode into town. “Moving up the lane,” Elder Asay related, “we hit some pretty deep ruts, and the load shifted. There was a slope, and as we made a turn from the lane up onto the highway, one of the Jensen brothers, who was driving the team, said he didn’t know if the load would stay on the wagon. Brother Jensen asked me to move to the rear of the load so that if it shifted and tipped over, I would be able to slip off the back. But when I got midway onto the load, the wagon tipped and I was thrown some distance onto a rock pile. I remember landing on my shins and then all the hay came down on top of me. My legs were bruised and bleeding.
“Hay is heavy and I thought I was going to suffocate, but somehow I remembered there was a fence close-by. So I started to crawl toward it, knowing that if I could reach it, I would be able to climb up out of the hay. My progress was slow, but as I came up to the top of the fence, I saw the Jensen brothers frantically looking for me. It was a miracle my life was spared.”
Elder Asay never aspired to be a General Authority. It was the furthest thing from his mind when he was called to serve in that capacity. But he does recall that one time when he was a small boy in Primary, he was asked to memorize the names of all the General Authorities in the Church, starting with Heber J. Grant, J. Reuben Clark, David O. McKay, and so on. He remembers asking himself the question, What if you were one of them? What if you were ever to be in those circles? He recalls that the feeling was quickly gone and he shrugged it off. Years later, when he was called to be a General Authority, he reflected back to that time in Primary.
“Avoid the slippery paths of youth and prepare yourselves in all things for whatever opportunities come along,” is Elder Asay’s counsel to boys and girls everywhere.

In his years as a widower my father had suffered financial misfortunes, so at the time of his marriage to my mother he was practically without money. Disabilities from a serious automobile accident made it impossible for him to continue his profession as a printer, so he took several less profitable jobs one after another. Yet he never hesitated to pay his tithes and offerings. Sometimes he wore secondhand suits instead of the finely tailored suits he had worn in earlier years; but eventually, with careful saving and considerable sacrifice, he and my mother were able to purchase a simple home and begin saving for retirement.
Even during this difficult financial period, whenever the bishop asked for budget or building funds, I noticed that my father would often pay a few dollars more than the bishop requested. My father had served as a bishop for several years and knew there was a great need for the money. “You can never give more to the Lord than the Lord gives you,” he would say smiling in a way that showed he knew what he said was true.

Mom brushed my hair gently and tied a ribbon in it before she caught my gaze in the mirror. “You look awfully grumpy this morning,” she said cheerily to my reflection.
“That’s because I am grumpy,” I replied, scrunching up my face so my lower lip stuck out in a frown.
Mom turned me around and knelt in front of me, looking me in the eye. “You will make friends in this ward. Don’t worry!”
“But, Mom, I liked our old ward! I liked my old friends! Why did we have to move, anyway?” I felt tears sting my eyes.
“Because of Daddy’s job!” a voice piped in helpfully.
My younger sister Alison peeked into the bathroom from the hallway. She smiled her biggest smile—a smile so big that it showed the gaps where her two front teeth were missing and made her eyes disappear into little half-moons. I scowled at her.
“That’s right,” Mom said to her. Alison beamed.
“But I don’t have any friends here,” I said to Mom, ignoring my sister.
“You’ve still got me!” Alison grinned at me from the doorway.
“Great.” I rolled my eyes.
Alison frowned for a few seconds and then said, “We’re best friends!” She ran off laughing before I could shout back at her that we were not best friends.
Later that day I looked glumly at all the people in sacrament meeting. I didn’t know one person in this new ward! My family had been here for only a few days. “Please, Heavenly Father,” I silently prayed, “help me make one new friend today.”
I was nervous when sacrament meeting ended and my parents took Alison and me to our Primary classes. During class, I sat alone and didn’t say anything.
When my class walked down the hall to the Primary room for sharing time, I clutched my scriptures tightly. I still felt nervous. I stopped at the drinking fountain to get a drink of water, then went into the Primary room. It was bright and cheery and full of children. As the pianist played a song I had learned in my old ward, I felt a little better.
But as I looked around, I realized that I couldn’t find the other children in my class. I didn’t know where they had gone, and I didn’t have anyone to sit by. I glanced around the room again, biting my lower lip nervously.
Then, from the corner of the room, a little girl started grinning and waving her hands at me. She pointed to a seat next to her. I smiled back at her as I walked to the empty seat. She smiled her biggest smile—a smile so big that it showed the gaps where her two front teeth were missing and made her eyes disappear into little half-moons.
That little girl rescued me. She was the friend Heavenly Father had sent for me.
I decided that sisters were best friends.

Oliver couldn’t wait for the week to go by. Next week was the big day he had been waiting for since he was four. He was going to be baptized.
Oliver was so excited about his baptism that he wanted to shout it from the rooftops for all of England to hear! He couldn’t wait to tell his friend Dylan at school.
“I can’t believe it. My baptism day is finally almost here,” Oliver said. “It’s going to be brilliant!”
“I thought only babies got baptized.” Dylan looked confused.
“Kids have to be at least eight to be baptized in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” Oliver said. “That’s my Church.”
“Cool,” Dylan said.
Suddenly Oliver had a thought. “Would you like to come to my baptism?”
“Sure,” Dylan said. “But I need to ask my parents first.”
“OK!”
Oliver was excited that Dylan might come to his baptism. This gave him another idea. “I don’t want to share my baptism with just one friend. I want to invite as many people as I can!” Oliver rushed home and told Mum he had a plan.
On the fast Sunday before his baptism, Oliver started his plan. He shared his testimony at the pulpit; then he said, “I’m getting baptized next Saturday, and I want everyone to come! Will you please invite anyone you know who isn’t a member, or who doesn’t come to church, to my baptism?” He felt like a missionary. He really liked that feeling!
Over the next week, Oliver invited friends, family members, and teachers to his baptism.
“It would mean a lot to me if you could come!” he told them.
As Saturday got closer, Oliver started to wonder how many people would actually show up. What if they were all too busy or didn’t want to come?
He said a short prayer that at least a few people he invited would come. Then he stopped worrying about who might show up. He knew he had done a good thing just by inviting them. Besides, the most important thing about the day was getting baptized.
When he got to church on his baptism day, Oliver could hardly believe his eyes. A lot of his friends were there to support him. He even saw a bunch of people he didn’t know. He waved when Dylan walked in with his parents.
When it was time to be baptized, Oliver stepped into the warm water. His dad took his hand, as they had practiced. Then he said the short baptism prayer and lowered Oliver into the water. Before he knew it, Oliver was standing up again—dripping wet and grinning. He knew he was following Jesus’s example.
After Oliver changed into dry clothes, his dad and a few other men confirmed him a member of the Church and gave him a special blessing, where they invited him to receive the Holy Ghost. Afterward, Oliver asked if he could share his testimony.
“Thank you so much for coming to support me on my special day. It means so much to me,” Oliver said. “I’m grateful for my baptism, and I believe this is Christ’s Church on the earth.”
Afterward, people came up to congratulate Oliver.
“Thanks for inviting me!” Dylan said. “I had a good feeling inside.”
“Everyone has been so kind!” Dylan’s mum said. “We have felt very welcomed.”
That night, Dad sat down on the end of Oliver’s bed. “What a great day!” Dad said.
Oliver nodded. “I’m glad I could share it with my friends.”

Maria had been less active for more than 20 years. A few months ago, we spent a couple of hours with her in our home, exploring her family through census and other records. At one point she burst into tears exclaiming, “I’ve learned more about my family in two hours than I’ve known in my whole life!”
At the end of our time together, we introduced to her the Relatives Around Me feature of the FamilyTree app. It turned out that my husband and I both are distantly related to Maria. She burst into tears again, saying she had thought she was alone. She never knew she had family in the area. A few weeks later Maria met with our bishop. She is now working on preparing for the temple, and she has met many “new” cousins in our ward!
Carol Riner Everett, North Carolina, USA

“Mom, my coat’s gone!” Brad said. It was time to go home from church, but Brad couldn’t find his coat on the rack.
“Are you sure that’s where you hung it up?” Mom asked.
“Yes. It was right here.” Brad’s coat was bright blue and red. It was hard to miss.
“Maybe it got moved. Let’s look around the building,” Dad said.
Mom, Dad, and Brad split up to check different rooms. They looked in the lost-and-found box, in the chapel, in Brad’s classroom, in the Primary room, and on every coat rack. They even looked in the bathrooms, but they didn’t find the coat.
“Somebody probably took it by accident. I’m sure they’ll return it next week as soon as they realize it isn’t theirs,” Dad said.
“In the meantime, you can wear your old coat,” Mom said.
Brad frowned. He didn’t like his old coat. It was thin, faded, and too small for him. He loved how his new red-and-blue coat made him look like a superhero.
Someone probably saw how cool my coat is and stole it, Brad thought. How could that happen at church? Everyone there was supposed to be honest. Brad wouldn’t let that robber get away with it. He had a plan. Next Sunday, he would watch carefully to see who was wearing his coat. Then he would snatch it back and yell, “Stop, thief!” They would be sorry they ever took it.
Brad could hardly wait for Sunday to carry out his plan. But the next Sunday was too warm for coats, and so was the next Sunday.
The Sunday after that, Brad looked around suspiciously at all the boys in Primary, wondering who stole his coat. Was it that tall boy? Or maybe it was a girl. He felt like he couldn’t trust anyone. Brad didn’t like that feeling.
After church Brad hurried around the building, watching families put on their coats. But he didn’t see his coat anywhere. He even checked the lost-and-found box again … but no coat. Where could it be?
On the way home, Brad thought of a new plan. He would pray. He knew Heavenly Father could find lost things. That night Brad prayed and said, “Heavenly Father, please tell me who took my coat. I want it back.”
Brad waited for the robber’s name or face to come to mind. But instead he started thinking about his friend Carl. Brad usually sat by Carl in Primary. They joked and laughed together a lot. But Carl hadn’t been to church in a few weeks. Brad missed him.
What if Carl had taken his coat? Maybe Carl was afraid to come to church now because he thought Brad wouldn’t be his friend anymore. Brad wanted Carl to come to church again. If Carl had taken his coat, Brad decided, he wouldn’t yell at him. He would forgive him.
Brad climbed into bed, feeling better.
The next Sunday in Primary, Carl wasn’t there, but a new boy was. He was wearing a red-and-blue-striped tie.
“Cool tie,” Brad said, sitting by the new boy. “It makes you look like a superhero.”
The boy smiled.
Brad smiled too. He wasn’t looking for robbers anymore. He was looking for friends.

Julie loves her Father in heaven. She lives her religion. She is only fifteen years old, but she has been the instrument in the Lord’s hands in bringing a whole congregation into the Church. Fifty of these people were baptized on Sunday, April 1, 1973, and as many as two hundred more could be baptized from this congregation very soon.
Julie’s father, Wang T’ien-te (king of heavenly virtue) sold his business almost eighteen years ago, determined to spend the rest of his life preaching the teachings of Jesus Christ. With the proceeds of his sale he purchased property and built a small church in K’e Liao Village in southern Taiwan. Shortly thereafter he built a house behind the church. Julie was born in this house, the last of eight children.
In May 1972 Julie was walking down a street in the city of Kaohsiung, Taiwan, when she saw two young foreigners handing out slips of paper to everyone who passed by. She took one slip and soon discovered that it was a brief message of the restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. The second page of the tract was a self-referral card addressed to the Kaohsiung Branch. Julie had been carefully reared with gospel teachings, and she was moved upon by the Spirit to learn about this restoration. She returned the card and was almost immediately visited by the elders. She knew the gospel was true from the moment she heard it, and she desired to be baptized.
Julie’s father could not understand her request. He had personally baptized her by immersion. Nonetheless, as Julie told him more about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, he also accepted the message of the restoration.
On Sunday, April 1, 1973, Julie went with her father and mother and 62 other members of the K’e Liao Church to the Kaohsiung chapel. On that day Julie stood with tears in her eyes as she saw her father and mother baptized by the mission president. She brimmed with joy as she saw 48 more people whom she had loved all of her life also enter the waters of baptism.
Julie lives her religion. When her father could not understand why she had joined another church, she had the courage to tell him why and to bear testimony to him. Through the strength, courage, and testimony of one fifteen-year-old girl, a whole congregation was brought into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Julie had been in the Church only a few months. Most of us have grown up in the Church and have enjoyed the blessings of the gospel all our lives. Can we follow Julie’s example? Can we be missionaries? We must! Through us, also, great things can come to pass; through us, also, scores of God’s children can be brought to baptism and membership in his church. Be faithful; have courage; live the commandments; bear testimony.

One day, a shy student came crying into Julie’s history class. After listening to the young woman’s feelings, Julie gave her some Church pamphlets to read. The girl trashed them. A short while later, the friend suffered severe family problems and ran away. Julie and her family invited the girl to stay at their home for a few days. “I tried to share the gospel with Maura, but she didn’t seem interested,” comments Julie. “Then I volunteered to help her at her job in a stable. In familiar surroundings she could sense how much I thought of her.”
Julie continues, “Maura felt discouraged about life and down on herself. She would ask, ‘Why would God let these things happen?’ Heavenly Father inspired me with answers to her questions. It was amazing how she changed when she started the discussions. She came to know she was a child of God and to believe in herself. I could not believe my joy the day of her baptism,” exclaims Julie.

It’s Saturday evening in the Waila Ward of the Nausori Fiji Stake. The responsibilities of the day are fulfilled, and holders of the Aaronic Priesthood have prepared for the Sabbath and are now gathered at the home of Brother and Sister Maiwiriwiri. It is an opportunity for them to have a small meal before beginning their fast—followed by an evening sleeping on mats in the Maiwiriwiris’ home.
Morning for these young men of the Aaronic Priesthood comes early. Long before daybreak, they quickly arise, don their white shirts and ties and their dark slacks, and by 6:00 a.m. they have left the home of Brother and Sister Maiwiriwiri in pairs—much like missionaries. Each of these companionships has a specific route to take in order to get to the chapel by 10:00 a.m., when priesthood meeting begins. Their responsibility is to stop at each member’s home on their route and invite them to contribute fast offerings.
These young men walk three miles (5 km) from the Maiwiriwiriwis’ home at one end of the ward to the meetinghouse at the other end of the ward. This is an opportunity to fulfill their duty and invite members of the Church to participate in the great work of caring for the widows and for their brothers and sisters by contributing fast offerings. President Alipate Tagidugu of the Nausori Fiji Stake commented that as a result of this effort by the Aaronic Priesthood, fast offering contributions have gone up 20 percent.
Just as important, these young men have an opportunity to fulfill their duty and help the members of the ward keep their covenants made at baptism:
“As ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;
“Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, that ye may be redeemed of God, and be numbered with those of the first resurrection, that ye may have eternal life” (Mosiah 18:8–9).
For these great young men, collecting fast offerings is not a burden but a blessing. They gladly wear their white shirts and ties, eagerly rise early, and willingly knock on the doors of the members in the early-morning hours to invite them to partake of the blessings that come from giving a generous fast offering.
As I watched these young men prepare for and fulfill their duty as priesthood holders, I thought what a wonderful blessing it will be to them throughout their lives to understand the significance of their efforts in inviting members of the Church to come closer to the Savior through giving fast offerings. How much better missionaries they will be, and how much better husbands and fathers they will be as a result of their priesthood efforts.
They will better understand this scripture about the Lord’s people: “The Lord called his people Zion, because they were of one heart and one mind, and dwelt in righteousness; and there was no poor among them” (Moses 7:18).

I get angry easily. I’ve listened to many conference messages that talk about anger and learned that when we are angry, we are often prideful. And pride separates us from God. So anger is a challenge I’m trying to overcome.
A seminary teacher told me that to overcome anger, I can try replacing it with a Christlike attribute. I decided to try replacing my anger with the ability to forgive.
During my seminary class, one of my classmates threw some scriptures on my leg. I was angry at that moment, and I shouted at him. But then I remembered Christlike forgiveness. When class was over, I went to him and told him I was sorry for shouting at him. I forgave him, and then he apologized as well.
As I have practiced looking to Christ through forgiveness, I’ve seen myself change. I try to view things with an eternal perspective instead of getting angry. When I focus on Christ and attend seminary, it strengthens my testimony of Him, and I can help others strengthen their own testimonies too.

One young woman had an experience soon after President Hinckley’s fireside when she began to question her friendship with some people.
“As I approached this group of people that I called my friends and that I had spent half my life with, their aura seemed different, confusing, and unappealing. They were taking turns telling bad jokes and the spirit that I encountered there was one I did not want to be a part of. I hesitated to leave my friends and stayed for half a joke and then made up my mind to not be a part of this demeaning situation.”
She went on to explain that although it was difficult leaving her group of friends, it was well worth it.
“As I look back on that minute in time, that thought of walking away was probably the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Now I find it to have been the single most important event in my life. I am now in a different crowd of people.
I think differently, and most importantly I act differently because of my change of friends.”

Major Brazilian cities like São Paulo equal any in the world with their forests of office towers, supermarkets, sophisticated shopping malls, and high-rise apartment complexes. They also have their share of tightly packed shanty communities, called favelas.
Maria Leopoldina do Espírito Santo lives alone at the edge of a favela in a small house made from packing cases and surplus construction material. A few years ago Maria saw another favela resident, Lindy Now, pass by each Sunday. On asking Lindy where she was going, Maria was invited to church. The missionaries visited her, and within two weeks she was baptized.
Maria used to help support herself by doing laundry for members and missionaries. Now, stricken with Parkinson’s disease, she says she gets by “on a small government pension and on the help of friends.” She can’t always make it to the Jardim Das Palmas Ward by herself, “but some of the Relief Society sisters take me by car. I love the hymns, and prayer is a part of my life.”
Born into a nation that has the largest Roman Catholic population in the world, Maria says she was never active in her former religion. “But my testimony of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is strong. I’m going to attend meetings just as long as I can.”

At first, the Prophet Joseph asked his wife, Emma, to write the words he spoke as he translated. Others, such as Martin Harris, also helped. But the translation was going too slowly. Joseph Smith needed to devote all his time to the work with a scribe who could also commit all his time. Oliver Cowdery was guided by the Lord to offer to help the Prophet in this work. In a matter of a few months, the translation of the book was finished.

Some years ago a friend of mine was called on a stake mission. His daily work was managing a sizable supermarket. One of his customers was an elderly woman of means and prestige in the community. My friend developed a genuine empathy for her, did everything he could to express his appreciation for her patronage, and tried to fill her every request; he made it a point to carry her groceries to her car, open the door for her, and see her homeward bound. He always smiled, spoke kind and gracious words, and gave her a friendly wave of the hand. She loved him for his friendly, helpful expressions of good will.
To his surprise, he happened to knock on her door one night while tracting with his stake missionary companion. She opened the door cautiously at first, then, seeing who was there, opened the door wider and happily exclaimed, “What a pleasant surprise!”
He explained that he was not wearing his groceryman’s hat that night but was calling on her as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She said in response that she had her own religion, that for years she had refused to listen to the representatives of the Mormon church and had no interest in its message. But she exclaimed, “With you, it is different. Please come in. I want to hear what you, a splendid Christian gentleman, have to say.”
That was only the beginning. We don’t need to tell the whole story. It is enough to say that she joined the Church and loves it—because her heart was softened by this outstanding Latter-day Saint.