Gospel Story Finder

Rob: You usually don’t realize you have a problem until you are in so deep you can no longer see the light. That’s what happened with me. I was curious and justified my involvement with pornography by reminding myself that guys at school were involved with it too, and it didn’t seem like a big problem for them.

Rob: Curiosity turned to interest, and interest developed into a strong habit. Soon I was addicted. I would get home from school, go straight to the computer, and be there for hours. My social life suffered. So did my schoolwork, family ties, and—most important—my spirituality.
At the very time I most needed the promptings of the Spirit in my life, I was less and less able to feel anything. Life became a constant struggle against depression.
My soul hungered, and the only thing I fed it offered no nourishment. I would get discouraged with myself, so I would delve into pornography to feel better. But the pornography would upset me even more.

Rob: Through all those years I attended church, but I was mentally inactive. I kept going to church so I wouldn’t upset my parents. But I knew the lifestyle I was caught up in was wrong. I noticed a change in my own countenance day by day, year by year. I became calloused and hardened. I found myself lying to my parents, my bishop, everyone around me. Inside I was going through personal turmoil and spiritual torment.

Rob: I humbly bowed before the Lord in tears and pleaded for strength beyond my own. Night after night I prayed, and finally I knew I had to talk to my bishop about it. That was the hardest part—admitting to someone else that I had a problem. I kept thinking I could handle it myself and no one would ever have to know. I wanted it to be something just between God and me. But I finally matured to a point where I realized that was impossible. I approached my bishop and began a long and difficult repentance process.
Repentance may be difficult, but it is also comforting and filled with hope.
Speaking of those who struggle with pornography, one bishop says: “Help is available. The repentance process is just that—a process. It takes time to break negative patterns, and each small victory must be acknowledged, reinforced, and celebrated along the way. Sometimes those I have worked with still struggle, but at least they are not hiding anymore. They have begun to build a support system. They have realized they don’t have to face this challenge alone.”
A former bishop explains: “Besides my own family, I don’t think I loved anyone in my ward quite as much as I loved those who came to me with broken hearts, seeking forgiveness and peace. They cared more about what the Lord thought of them than what any person thought. I respected their courage and desire to make things right. I shed tears over them. I rejoiced when they were clean and whole again. And afterward I never looked at them as former sinners—only as beloved brothers and sisters.”
“Trust in the Lord,” counseled Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. “He knows what He is doing. He already knows of your problems. And He is waiting for you to ask for help” (“Trust in the Lord,” Ensign, May 1989, 36).
I felt relief when I stopped pretending. Sharing the burden with my bishop and my family meant I no longer had to deal with this addiction alone. Now I hold on to this support system.
A problem that dominated my youth could not be overcome overnight. This road has been long and hard—and it continues. It isn’t enough anymore to look happy. I want to be happy. I am coming to know Christ and to understand the Atonement. The Savior gives me the strength I need so my self-confidence and self-respect grow each day.
I was honest with my bishop. And when my dad talked to me, I was honest with him too. We worked on the problem together. We decided not to have the Internet in our home for a while. That was a big help.
I’m turning 16 soon, and I’m glad I decided not to let pornography control my life. I feel better about myself, and I think about young women differently than I did before. With my bishop’s help, I’m preparing now for the temple, a mission, and a great marriage one day.
It took a lot of time and sincere effort to break bad habits. Eventually I was judged by my priesthood leader as worthy to serve a mission. The best feeling in the world was to go to the temple and know I am clean. The Spirit I wanted to feel during all those teenage years came flooding into my heart and life. I am so thankful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
The adversary still works on me, trying to get me to backslide. But I have learned to put on the armor of God every day. I know Jesus Christ loves me, and I love Him.
The best way to avoid a problem with pornography is to stay as far away from it as possible. But if you are struggling with pornography or any unworthy habit, please talk to your bishop or branch president. He loves you, he will be discreet, and he can help you put the power of the Atonement to work in your life. With the help of the Savior and His servants, you can gain the strength you need. You can become clean and confident and worthy in every respect.

I have always trusted in the Lord and His commandments. When the economy took a turn for the worse, however, I lost my overtime hours and my salary dropped. I stopped paying tithing and told myself that the Lord would understand. Nevertheless, my debts grew and my paychecks shrank.
Seeing my struggle, several relatives told me that above all else I should pay my tithes because this would help me overcome my trials. But I always ended up paying my bills instead. I was willing to pay tithing when my financial seas were calm, but I became afraid when my financial situation was stormy (see Matthew 14:28–31).
Heading home from work one afternoon after getting paid, I thought of all my debts. I closed my eyes and prayed, “Father, what am I going to do?” At that moment I opened my eyes and noticed on the ceiling of the bus a poster of Peter sinking into a stormy sea with the Savior reaching out to rescue him. At the bottom of the poster were the words “Unshaken Faith.” I realized I needed to pay my tithing if I ever wanted to pay off my debts.
When I arrived home, I found a tithing envelope and put my tithing inside. As I sealed the envelope, I heard the words “All is well” and felt a joy that brought peace to my soul.
I know that God will bring His blessings into my life when He deems it prudent to do so. Until then the sea may remain stormy, but the peace I feel for obedience is more than enough.

At the beginning of my mission, I served in a small city in South Korea. One rainy day we had not had a lot of success but wanted to keep working until it was time to go home. My companion and I decided that we would knock on a few more doors.
At one door a woman answered, and my companion started talking to her. As a new missionary, I had a hard time understanding, but after a few minutes she began speaking to us in English. We found out that she was from Chicago, Illinois, USA, and had moved here with her family. Her husband was a preacher for a church that did not have friendly feelings toward our beliefs.
The woman was nice but eager to disprove the Book of Mormon and convince us that our church was incorrect. I stood there with my companion as he tried to answer her difficult questions. My companion tried to testify to her that the Book of Mormon is true and that it could help her, but she insisted on believing that he was incorrect.
After about 30 minutes of discussion at the door, she asked my companion, “Where will we go after this life?” I could tell she was eager to refute my companion’s teachings, as she had before. My companion testified of the plan of salvation and that we can live with our families forever in the celestial kingdom. Before he could continue, she stopped him and asked him to repeat what he had just said about families being together. He again replied with the same response. I felt the Spirit so strongly, and I could see in her eyes that something had touched her deeply too. After that short but powerful testimony, she stopped arguing with us, took a Book of Mormon, and asked us to come back to talk with her and her husband about the Book of Mormon.
I remember walking home with my companion that evening, amazed by the effect of my companion’s testimony. I understood then that a testimony accompanied by the Spirit is the most powerful teaching tool we have. I’ll never forget my companion and his testimony that night. After that experience I decided that, even with my limited ability to speak Korean, I would try to bear my testimony no matter what. As I did, I began to feel the Spirit more and more. I learned that the best communication happens when you teach by the Spirit.

When a friend invited me to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 2020, I reluctantly agreed. At first, I didn’t feel it was the place to be, but I continued to attend sacrament meeting. Eventually, I was baptized.
I did not understand, however, the concept of having a testimony as spoken of by other members of the Church. The sister missionaries and I had read some scriptural verses together, but I had never opened the Book of Mormon on my own. Despite great efforts by members of the Church to welcome me and keep me active, I soon began coming late to church, skipping meetings, and going back to a worldly state.
Then came one day when I felt a mood swing with a troubled heart. I felt I had been too unstable, worldly, and antagonistic toward the things of God. I recognized I was not on the right track. While in this mood, I glanced toward the scriptures on my bed.
I called upon God to say something to me. I said a little prayer and waited to hear anything at all. I needed some comfort and clarity.
Then I heard something. I do not know whether the sound came from inside my mind or inside my ears, but I heard the words “Helaman 3:27.” I knew that the book of Helaman was in the Book of Mormon, so I took the scriptures and went to the table of contents to locate that book.
What I read next was a message from God to me specifically for that moment of my life: “Thus we may see that the Lord is merciful unto all who will, in the sincerity of their hearts, call upon his holy name.”
This passage changed my perception about my actions and about the Book of Mormon. I realized that my actions and insincerity toward God had been wrong and that I needed to call upon Him and repent. I know that God will not deny me His mercies and blessings so long as I am sincere in calling upon Him and following Him.
That’s how my testimony came of the Book of Mormon—a book I had showed no interest in reading. I know that God lives, that He speaks to us today, and that the Book of Mormon is true.

Some years ago i was serving as a counselor in a stake presidency. as you know, counselors, stake presidency travel around to the different wards during Sunday meetings. this particular Sunday, I had come back to our ward building and everybody was in class. There was no one in the hallways, and I stopped at the water fountain. This water fountain was a two level water fountain. There was the tall one for adults, and the little one for short people, meaning children, and so as I was having a drink of water, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that this little boy appeared from nowhere and he got up on the little stool next to me and he pushed the button down to drink water. Now the water pressure in this water fountain was really very sensitive. And so as I watched him out of the corner of my eye, push his button down, and I watched my water pressure drop in half, I kept my eye closely on him until he was ready to drink. And as he leaned forward to get his drink of water, I let go of my button and I’d have to tell you, it was a great shot. It hit him right in the face and he stood back and let go, wiped his face off, and I didn’t know him, I had no idea who he was, but when he pushed his button down again, this big stream of water came up, and he leaned in for it and I pushed my button down. His water pressure dropped in half, he went down for it, I let go, it was another great shot. At this point, I looked down the hallway both directions, because counselors in stake presidencies aren’t supposed to act this way. But seeing nobody around, we continued our little game. I don’t know how many times I splashed him, but the interesting thing to me was that he never figured out who was causing him his grief. Even though I was right next to him, I could’ve put my hand on his head, he never ever figured out that it was me. And maybe, I don’t know, seven times later, he left for class.

Now you might say, What does that have to do with being at war with Satan? May I suggest to you that in each of our lives, we have buttons that people push to get us to react. Perhaps you’ve had a younger brother or a younger sister, or an older sister, who used to push your buttons, raise your hand if you know what I’m talking about. See, all the button pushers’ hands went up.

The adversary is a button pusher. He and his angels know a great deal about us. They know our strengths and our weaknesses. They know where the chinks are in our armor, and they know how to get us. And so they push buttons, and frequently, we don’t even recognize that our buttons are being pushed, but we react frequently our reaction is not in a very Christlike manner.

Patrick works on his model car engine.
Photographs by Julian Klemm
Patrick L., 16, from Bavaria, Germany, says his favorite subjects in school are math, physics, and chemistry. In fact, he likes science so much that he wanted to share it with others by writing a book about physics (on thermodynamics and magnetism, to be precise).
He wants to be an engineer for his career, developing technical equipment like automotive engines. (By the way, the headquarters of automakers BMW and Audi are just an hour and an hour-and-a-half away from where he lives.)
But science isn’t the only place where Patrick finds energizing, exciting things.
Yes, Patrick has a deep love of science, but his interests range far beyond cold, hard facts and formulas.
“I’ve written a physics book, but now I’m doing a fantasy book,” he explains. “The book I’m writing is about magical creatures and their world. And then there are a few young people who solve the problems.”
This latest side project was inspired by Patrick’s love of fantasy novels such as the Harry Potter and Percy Jackson series. Writing books on the side is something Patrick got into after his uncle told him how much fun it can be. “He infected me with his joy,” says Patrick.
That infectious joy led Patrick to take what he had learned about the rules and realities of the physical world and write a book about them. It also made him want to create a marvelously fantastical story. And there’s no contradiction in this. Patrick seems to know that truth and beauty and joy can be found in many places. And he wants to find, create, and share those things wherever they may be.
Patrick understands a great deal about the laws of the physical world. But he also looks beyond facts to see beauty there.
“I live near a forest,” he says. “That’s an advantage of living in a small town—you can go into the forest quickly and find peace there.”
He loves the many forest paths for hiking or, especially, biking. “I like cycling. It’s a big hobby for me,” he says. “I ride a lot. I once biked 1,200 kilometers [745 miles] in two weeks.”
Science inspires Patrick’s mind, and prayer inspires his spirit. “I have a strong testimony of prayer,” he says. “You can talk to [Heavenly Father] everywhere.”
Sometimes he likes to go hiking or biking in the forest with his whole family (Mom, Dad, two younger brothers, and two younger sisters) or just with his dad. Often he’ll go by himself. But he always finds peace and beauty in nature.
“Sunrises are especially beautiful around here,” he says. “Sometimes you can see the Alps from here even though they’re so far away. And when the sun rises, it’s mirrored, and with the mountains, you see this gorgeous red sky, and it’s really beautiful.”
In addition to the facts of natural science and the beauties of the natural world, Patrick also values truth—the kind of truth that can be found only through prayer.
“I have a strong testimony of prayer,” says Patrick. “Kneeling down, folding my hands, having peace and quiet, and then praying. This is what I have the greatest testimony of.”
He explains that his testimony comes partly from something he was told in his patriarchal blessing. “It says that I should always remember that Heavenly Father is only one prayer away from me,” he says. “You can talk to Him everywhere. He is there for you everywhere, and you can get answers everywhere.”
His experience with receiving answers to prayer is enhanced, he says, when he takes certain steps. “I feel the Holy Ghost so strongly with some prayers. When I consciously set goals, consciously have questions, consciously sit down and act as it says in the scriptures, and wait and invest time—when I manage to do that, I always have a strong testimony and feel the Holy Ghost.”
Patrick remembers one time he offered such a special prayer. “We talk a lot about Joseph Smith and how at age 14 he prayed and received an answer,” he says. “And so I sat down—I even went into the forest—and I prayed. And I received an answer. Then I was happy. And that strengthened my testimony.”
“When I consciously set goals, consciously have questions, consciously sit down and act as it says in the scriptures, and wait and invest time—when I manage to do that, I always have a strong testimony and feel the Holy Ghost.”
Just as he’s sought to share his scientific knowledge and his creative imagination, Patrick also seeks to share his spiritual knowledge.
Beginning at age 12, he has spent time helping the full-time missionaries. He also once invited a friend to his home to receive the missionary lessons. “We talked about the Restoration. He was interested. He listened well and participated and read scriptures. We read James 1:5, which Joseph Smith had also read. And I had him read from Joseph Smith—History. He was really engaged.”
His classmates at school respect his faith. “Instead of persecuting the Church, they support it,” he says. Even his teacher in his school’s religion class supports him. “He thinks it’s cool that I have faith in God and even helps me to achieve my goals.”
After he finishes school and qualifies for university studies, Patrick also plans to serve a full-time mission. “I’ll probably prepare by reading Preach My Gospel,” he says. “I’d like to stay on the ball and read, do the lessons, and also spend a lot of time with the missionaries.”
Patrick loves to feed his imagination. He’s even writing a fantasy book.
Patrick has learned that there are many things out there that are “virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy,” and so he seeks after these things (Articles of Faith 1:13). And when he finds them, he shares them.
Whether in science, imagination, or nature, he finds exciting knowledge and sublime beauty wherever he turns. And he finds the highest knowledge, beauty, and truth through his relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.

Habits are hard to break, but one must first recognize the bad habit. A friend is the best help, next to oneself, in alleviating such a problem. Once you have gotten a person to recognize his problem, promise to help him overcome it. While in navy bootcamp I had this habit myself. Here is my solution: I asked a friend to catch me every time I said something wrong and correct me. I soon caught myself, and with a little extra effort, I overcame the problem. It took some effort though.
Frederick M. Beall, U.S.N.N.A.S. Imperial Beach, California

When Bobby Collins (name has been changed) sent his mission papers off, he was surprised that he did not get back a large white envelope containing his mission call. Instead, he received a letter from the Church’s Missionary Department asking about his tattoo.
When Bobby graduated from high school, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go on a mission. He moved away from home to work, and he liked the independence of not having his parents around all the time. At about the same time, his best friend and his cousin both got tattoos. “That kind of lowered my guard,” he says.
Bobby had always been good at art, so he designed his own tattoo. He knew tattoos were discouraged by the Church and that his mother wouldn’t like it, and before he went to get it, he asked his brother what he thought about it. His brother had some good advice. He said, “Life already gives us so many scars. Why would you want another one?”
But Bobby had already made up his mind. Six weeks and 700 hard-earned dollars later, he had a huge tattoo all the way up one leg. “It was really painful. It was bloody,” he remembers. And “getting one made it easier to think about getting more.” He didn’t get any more, but after strengthening his testimony of the gospel, he did decide he wanted to serve a mission.
As painful as getting his tattoo was, the pain of regret that Bobby felt was much worse. He was very worried about whether or not he would be able to serve a mission. He wanted to get the tattoo removed but couldn’t afford to. He worried what his future spouse and children might think of it.
“That letter from the Missionary Department scared me a lot,” Bobby says. “My biggest fear was that this one thing was going to hold me back from serving a mission.”
Bobby had to do what the Missionary Department asks all missionary applicants who have tattoos to do. On his original application he told them a little about his tattoo. The letter he received later requested a few more details, including an explanation of when and why he got it and where it is located on the body as well as a description or photograph of it. He was also asked to describe how he felt about it.
When a missionary candidate with a tattoo applies, General Authorities review each case and decide whether that candidate will be allowed to serve a mission. Some cannot.
Bobby did receive his mission call. He is grateful to be a missionary and sorry that, now a representative of the Lord’s Church, he once decided to get a tattoo.
“I just hope people will follow President Hinckley’s counsel,” Bobby says. “I know that he is a prophet of God. If he says it’s important, then it’s important.”
Bobby has some counsel of his own too, the same counsel his brother gave him: “Even though we can be forgiven through the Atonement, why do something else that’s going to leave us scarred?”

We sat huddled on the wet lawn in front of the Joseph Smith Monument in Sharon, Vermont—the birthplace of the Prophet. Draped in ponchos in a vain attempt to keep dry, we strained to hear our leader over the sound of the rain. Shortly, we would finish our final activity—a few moments alone in the woods, meditating and doing some self-evaluation.
The idea really excited me. Earlier, a speaker had related to us a story about President David O. McKay receiving his patriarchal blessing. Thirteen-year-old David was, at the time, a champion marble player. After the blessing, the patriarch told David that he had more important things to do than play marbles. I felt that now, too, was the time for me to “put away my marbles” and decide what to do with my life. A big part of that decision depended on knowing if the Church was true. I decided to ask our Heavenly Father.
The world seemed to fall silent as I entered the woods. With my poncho pulled around me to protect me from the rain, I found a secluded spot and sang some hymns to myself. Then I read the scriptures for a while. When I felt ready, I knelt to pray.
I was excited to pray, but I was also nervous. I had felt the Spirit before—in fast and testimony meetings and when I had received a testimony of the Book of Mormon—but I couldn’t honestly say that I knew the Church was true. What if I prayed and there was just nothing? What if, out here in the woods, kneeling and praying aloud got me nothing but wet?
But I decided that I had to try. So I knelt on the soggy leaves and bowed my head in prayer. I spoke in a whisper, fearful that someone might eavesdrop, and asked very simply to know if I really belonged to God’s true church. I finished my prayer and remained kneeling, awaiting an answer.
At first, I received an impression that I already knew the Church was true. But I figured that must have been my own thoughts, so I prayed again.
“You already know,” came the answer again, along with the warm and calm feeling of the Spirit enveloping me with peace and joy.
My heart quickened, and I couldn’t hold back the smile that covered my face. I realized that through seminary and my personal study, I had built my testimony step by step, precept upon precept, so slowly that I hadn’t even realized I had it.
I had a testimony of the Church, and I could now put aside the less important things in my life and get on with my spiritual growth. I felt so relieved, so content, and so grateful that I knew personally that the Church was true. Still kneeling, I bowed my head again and gave a prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father for his witness that, although I hadn’t recognized it before, I already knew.

Todd and his four younger brothers were raised in Pleasant Grove and Lindon, Utah. They enjoyed what he describes as an “idyllic” and “wholesome” childhood, one in which the boys enjoyed unstructured time to play, invent, and learn.
“We had a very secure, happy home life,” Elder Christofferson remembers. “Father and Mother taught us through their examples and showed us how to live according to the pattern of the gospel.”
His parents, in turn, remember Todd as an obedient, happy son. “Todd was a good boy and always knew what kind of life he wanted to live,” his father says. “He was a great influence on his brothers.”
His parents also recall that he was eager to help wherever he saw a need. When Todd was 13 years old, his mother underwent significant surgery as part of cancer treatment. Elder Christofferson’s father, who was with her at the hospital, learned that Todd had gathered his brothers to pray for their mother.
The surgery was successful, but it limited Sister Christofferson’s ability to complete some routine household tasks. Todd knew how much his mother loved homemade bread—and how difficult it would be for her to continue to make it. He asked his grandmother to teach him how to bake bread, and he made it regularly for his family until he left for college several years later.
When Todd was about 15 years old, his father, a veterinarian, took a new job in New Brunswick, New Jersey. At the time of the family’s move, Lindon, Utah, had very few people, so the transition to the more populated setting of New Jersey was a dramatic shift for the entire Christofferson family. Still, the next several years—full of new places, people, and opportunities—would be some of the most formative of Todd’s life.
The only Church member in his high school class, Todd enjoyed friendships and associations with people from a variety of cultural and religious backgrounds, something that would continue throughout his life. Todd discovered that many of his friends felt their beliefs as fervently as he felt his own, which caused him to think deeply and pray fervently about what he knew. “I began to see that the Church wasn’t just nice,” he says. “It was life-and-death important. I began to appreciate what I had.”
Greg Christofferson, one of Elder Christofferson’s brothers, who shared a room with him for over 16 years, remembers, “Todd was always spiritually inclined and exemplary in his conduct.” Greg notes that a few years after his brother graduated from high school, one of Todd’s outstanding classmates had been praying with his wife about how to raise their young children. When Latter-day Saint missionaries came to their door, the man recalled how good and honorable Todd, one of the only Latter-day Saints he knew, had been. Because of that memory, the man invited the missionaries in, and he and his family joined the Church.

I joined the Church when I was 16 years old. My parents gave me permission, but they did not join with me. On the day of my baptism, my mother told me I could still “get out of it” if I wanted to. But I did not want to get out of it; I wanted to get into it and start my new life. I knew the gospel was true.
Not having my family at church with me, I often felt lonely on Sundays. But it helped when people from the ward would take me to church and sit by me. It also helped to have a calling. When I was called to teach the three-year-olds, I felt much more a part of my ward family.
I didn’t want my baptism to affect my family’s unity. Still, things at home were not always as I wished them to be. My family would do heavy work on Sunday and chide me for not participating. They told me I was lazy. I said I was trying to honor the Sabbath. My family liked to eat out on Sunday, and now I would not go. They said I was tearing apart our family, but I was just trying to live the commandments.
What kept me going was the Spirit of the Lord. I really felt it in my life. I felt it when I bore my testimony, when I read my scriptures, and when I prayed. These were all things I learned to do from my teachers at church. I listened very hard and tried to learn the things that would improve my life.
But I often felt out of place at church because I was learning so many new things. I bought some new long skirts to replace my short ones. When I wore them to church, I found out they were still too short to meet Church standards. I didn’t understand what my friends meant when they used Church-related abbreviations. I was too nervous and shy to ask them the meanings of things.
What helped was the teens befriending me and taking time to include me. They seemed to have a natural way of caring for new members. Another thing that helped was visualizing my family in the next life. I never wanted them to be disappointed in me for not living the gospel when I knew it to be true. Even though times were difficult when I was a teenager, I tried to think of the future and my responsibility to my family. If I did not live the gospel, how would my family ever have a chance of accepting it?
Now I am older and married and have teenagers of my own. They are strong in the Church and do not have problems knowing things about the Church that I had to learn from experience. They fit in well and serve in the presidencies in their classes. When I was a teenager I was trying to be a good example for my mom and dad. Unfortunately, they never did join the Church. But I did not realize then that doing what was right was crucial to teenagers I would meet later in my life, who became dearer to me than life itself—my own children.
What you choose today will affect the people who are in your life now. But there are also some special people in your future who are hoping you will do what is right. Their futures may depend on your choosing what is right today. No matter how awkward others may make you feel for making right choices, in the end it will all be worth it.

A personal experience illustrates that point. Sister Oaks and I are the parents of six, including four daughters. Our youngest daughter is still in her teens. As parents, we have learned a lot about teenage girls. I remember when one of our teenage daughters announced that she was in love with eight boys. She produced a list of their names. I made silent note of the fact that she had never even dated some of these boys, and one of them she had never even met. Within a few weeks she dropped several names off her list and added others. When I asked her how she could fall in love and out of love with so many boys so quickly, she wisely admitted, “I guess I’m not in love with those boys. I’m just in love with love.” Your parents and grandparents will remember the words of an old song, “Falling in love with love is falling for make believe” (Lorenz Hart, “Falling in Love with Love,” The Boys from Syracuse, n.p.: Chappell & Co., 1938).

“I’d like to bear my testimony and give thanks to my Heavenly Father for my many blessings.”
The voice came from the back corner of the chapel. To the regular ward members it was a familiar voice and one that was often heard at testimony meetings.
A visitor, turning to see who was speaking, saw a boy bent over a folding chair, supporting his gaunt body on his arms while his legs hung limp behind him. How could this obvious cripple be thankful for his many blessings? What blessings?
When he was four years old, a series of tests disclosed that Stephen Farrance had a type of muscle disease, which, if it progressed as it had been doing, would kill him by the time he was 12.
“The impact and finality of the doctor’s verdict didn’t really register with us,” recalled his mother. “Stephen could do so many things. We just encouraged him to be independent. He had his regular chores to do just like his brother and sister. Then later, when the tendons pulled his feet up and he had to walk on his toes, we withdrew some of his responsibilities but gave him others. He went to a regular school and made a niche for himself.
“I remember one teacher telling me that she called Stephen and a new boy up to her desk at the same time. When Stephen arrived, he braced his feet and placed a hand on her desk. The newcomer said, ‘Are you okay?’, and Stephen said, ‘My feet don’t like to stop walking, and it takes me a minute or two to convince them. But, thanks, I’m fine now.’”
Stephen had difficulty sitting. By the time he was 12, he knelt on his chair during class and got callouses on his knees. But he didn’t believe in missing anything that he could take part in. He figured out ways to be part of what the other kids did. The following year his class decided to learn square dancing, and the teacher apparently told Stephen that he could go to the library and read while the others danced.
“But I’d rather take part,” Stephen told her.
“Just how do you propose to do that?” asked his teacher, startled, because by now he walked hanging on to the wall and couldn’t balance himself.
“Well, I’ve thought about it and I’ve decided I could handle the record player, change the record, and watch how the steps are done. That’ll give you more time to be with the other kids on the floor,” he said. So he got to change the records and watch.
“ I have many blessings for which I am thankful …”
Like being basketball scorer in high school, managing one of the girls’ teams, working on the school newspaper, and being elected to various student council offices. When he ran for treasurer, he said in his campaign speech, “You have only to take one look at me to be sure I won’t run off with the funds.” He was elected.
He didn’t limit his time to school activities. His family had joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when Stephen was eight, so he took an active part in Church programs. He went to Primary, was active in Cub Scouts, and moved on into Scouting. He advanced in the priesthood offices and served the sacrament until one day he tripped. That night he wrote in his journal: “Passing sacrament and tripped, nothing spilled, but maybe I’d better not risk it again. I think it’s too hard on the watchers.” So he switched to reminding the other deacons when it was their turn. As a teacher he helped prepare the sacrament in the little side room and was also secretary of the quorum.
Stephen got up at 5:30 A.M. five days a week for four years to go to seminary. He achieved two years’ perfect attendance and one year with one day absent. The other year he went to a drama festival with the winning play and couldn’t find an early morning seminary, so he missed four days.
“I’d like to thank Heavenly Father for my many blessings …”
While Stephen was making friends and doing new things, the disease was also progressing. His head bent back because his neck muscles couldn’t give him the support he needed. As he would inch his way along the corridors of the school, holding on to the walls, he would have to stop every few feet and rest, then look ahead to see what was in his way.
People made comments. Even some adults would come up and say, “How come you look like that?” or “What’s the matter with you?” Sometimes in a restaurant people would think he was just a bad-mannered kid and tell him to sit up properly or not take up so much room.
Did it bother him?
“No, not really. If they knew it wasn’t intentional, they wouldn’t feel like that,” said Stephen.
His older brother, James, started carrying him over his shoulder. They would make a game of it, and people never knew how serious it really was. Stephen would start home from school, and after half a block James would come along, scoop him up, and run on. Stephen would holler, and often the pair would beat the other kids to the house.
There were times in shopping centers when James would carry Stephen and be told by the security men that that type of thing wasn’t allowed. After awhile Stephen became friends with most of the security men, and they would find carts that he could drape himself over.
“Stephen became friends with people because he took time to notice them. I remember one day at the shopping center he said to me, ‘Hey, Mom, let’s go over there, I want to speak to that guy.’ He went over, and he congratulated the man on his promotion and asked what his new duties entailed. The man explained, and they chatted away. Later, I asked Stephen how he knew the man had had a promotion. ‘If you look at the sleeves of their uniforms, you’ll see they have some gold braid on the cuffs. That guy only had one stripe on last week, and this week he has two, so I figured it must mean a promotion.’”
Stephen’s awareness of people as human beings with triumphs and problems was well known. A fellow student sums up this quality: “Even through junior high you could always go to Steve with your troubles. He was always more interested in other people’s problems than his own.”
Another friend says, “He was always happy and unimportant to himself. He thought it was more important to help other people, which he did every day. He was only important to himself as far as he needed to be to return to Heavenly Father. What a beautiful, fantastic person. He had the attitude, ‘I’m not going to let me get me down.’”
“I’m thankful, Heavenly Father …”
He followed his sister and brother in drama. While they were actors, Stephen became a director, a sound man, and a dabbler in lighting. He did this at high school and with the roadshows.
No one thought of him as a cripple. At home it was understood there were certain things he couldn’t do. As his sister explained to one of her friends, “Stephen can’t run, I can’t draw, and James can’t sing.” Living with Stephen taught the other Farrances compassion, not just for him but for all people.
Stephen sailed through school getting straight A’s until the last couple of years of high school when the toll of just living and moving took a great portion of his energy. He ended with a B average. He was voted Citizen of the Year by the student body and received service awards every year of high school. His last year he won the Soroptimist Youth Citizenship Award and a school bursary. He also ran an hour-long morning radio broadcast at school.
He spoke at church on a regular basis and held various church positions. Ward members loved him and gave him strength, while drawing courage from watching him. He served as secretary in the Aaronic Priesthood MIA and was vice-president of his institute class.
He was a staunch supporter of the missionary program and invited the elders home as often as possible. Stephen was thrilled the day his brother, James, received his mission call. He enjoyed the preparations and being able to travel to Salt Lake City to take James to the Missionary Home there. Stephen firmly believed he would serve a mission too, and he studied diligently to prepare himself for it. His patriarchal blessing stated that he would go on a mission. He didn’t expect to do such a great thing as tracting, but he was sure there was a place for him.
Each day found him a little weaker. His body grew more and more distorted until he was bent almost double and spent his time, awake and asleep, draped over a chair. He didn’t complain; he accepted things the way they were.
Writing and directing the New Westminster Ward roadshow was his last big venture. The Vancouver British Columbia Stake produced the combined roadshows from all the wards. When the judges came back with their verdict, Stephen’s roadshow had won “Best All-Round Entertainment.”
As the applause died down, the stake MC approached the microphone. “Stephen Farrance, writer and assistant director of the winning roadshow, died this morning. We’ve kept this sad news until now we didn’t want to influence the judges. We’d like to congratulate the cast and crew for going on tonight, with special mention to Stephen’s family, who did such a fine job. We dedicate the roadshows to Stephen.”
“How could his family be here tonight?” someone asked, and the reply was, “After living with Stephen, what else could they do?”
“I’d like to bear my testimony and thank Heavenly Father for my many blessings … thank him for the sure knowledge that I will receive a perfect body in the resurrection, for my knowledge that God lives, that Jesus is the Christ, and that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I’m thankful for my membership in this church …”
Stephen had the blessing of a keen mind, a lively sense of humor, and the ability to see problems for what they were. He put all these things together and accomplished a full life, all 18 years of it. But he was not superhuman, neither a paragon of virtue nor a saint, but a warm, loving, normal human being with ups and downs, likes and dislikes.
About the time when many young LDS men are entering the Missionary Home in Salt Lake City at the start of their two-year missions, Stephen Farrance completed his mission here on earth. Did Heavenly Father send him out from the realm of pure love to give us an example to follow? Are we not all, to some extent, crippled in mind, if not in body, and in need of each other’s strength? Was this his mission?
In a letter to Stephen’s brother, James, their former stake president wrote: “Stephen had such a great desire to follow you into the mission field. Now he has received his call. He is eminently prepared to preach the gospel and will yet fulfill a great mission. But on his mission he will not have the heavy burden of his affliction. His spirit now stands straight and tall, and he can walk forth to preach the gospel with power and conviction, even as you are doing. Be of good cheer, Elder. Your brother is about his Father’s work, even as you are.”

While in New York City, the choir performed a musical fireside in the newly dedicated Latter-day Saint meetinghouse in Harlem.
“Performing at Carnegie is such an accomplishment and a great feather to put in the hat of our music department,” said Justin Smith, the coordinator for the university’s performance tours. “But when we did the Harlem fireside with the newly formed BYU–Hawaii Alumni Chapter of New York, that became my tour highlight.”
Brother Smith continued: “Before the tour, the fireside seemed like just another ‘appointment’ on the itinerary—it kind of flew under the radar. That’s probably why it was so incredible, because it was an unexpected moment on the tour that really struck a chord. Carnegie was commendable. Harlem was the highlight.”

“Please tell me a story,” Jeff said to his granny.
Granny began, “Once upon a time there was a boy.”
“He was a little boy,” Jeff said.
Granny began again. “Once upon a time there was a bad little boy.”
“No, Granny. That isn’t the way the story goes,” Jeff said. “He was a good little boy.”
Once more Granny started the story. “Once upon a time there was a good little boy.”
Jeff nodded his head up and down. “That’s the right story.”
“This good little boy was going to town.”
Jeff shook his head. “No, no, Granny. Don’t you remember? That very good little boy was going to his granny’s house.”
Granny smiled at Jeff. “That’s the same old story. Wouldn’t you like to hear a new one?”
“I like the old story,” Jeff insisted.
So Granny told it. “Once upon a time there was a very good little boy. His daddy took him in the car to see his granny. When they got to Granny’s house. Daddy stopped the car in the driveway. He smoothed Jeff’s hair and tucked Jeff’s shirttail in. ‘Be a good boy,’ Daddy said.
“Jeff climbed out of the car and waved good-bye to Daddy. Then Jeff rang Granny’s doorbell.
“When Granny opened the door, she pretended that she didn’t know him. ‘Good morning,’ Granny said. ‘Are you selling something? I don’t think I need anything today.’
“Jeff began to giggle. ‘Don’t you need a good little boy?’
“Granny made her face look surprised. ‘How did you know? That’s the only thing that I need.’
“Jeff laughed out loud. ‘I’m just what you need!’ he said.”
Granny stopped telling the story and hugged Jeff. “It’s the same old story,” she said.
“That’s why I like it,” Jeff told her. “Could we have a glass of milk and a cookie for that very good little boy? That comes next in that same old story.”

At the weekly temple meeting on Thursday, 12 April 1990, after all the agenda items had been covered, President Hunter asked, “Does anyone have anything that is not on the agenda?” No one spoke, so he said, “Well, then, if no one else has anything to say, I thought I’d just let you know that I’m going to be married this afternoon.” There were gasps, then he went on to explain, “Inis is an old acquaintance from California. I’ve been visiting with her for some time, and we’ve decided to get married.”

This was a delightful surprise for the Brethren, who had been concerned about President Hunter’s being alone. And now, happily, they learned that he would have a companion who is outgoing, warm, cordial, and gracious. Since the time of their marriage, Inis has been unfailing in her concern for President Hunter and in her attentiveness to him. It has been a delight for him to have a traveling companion and to show her something of the dimension of Church service, with the many and varied assignments and responsibilities a man of President Hunter’s stature carries. For her part, she has experienced all the joys and emotions that come to the wife of a General Authority, and she quickly learned to speak extemporaneously as she was called on repeatedly to speak in Church settings and missionary meetings. Sister Hunter continues to be a comfort and a joy to him.

There had been some minor conflicts with local nonmember youth. A bus was vandalized and a young conference attender was pushed around a bit. What was the reaction of these young Mormons who were learning about service and how to apply gospel teachings in their lives?

“We only have two cheeks to turn,” said one of the youth leaders, “so we’d better solve the problem before it grows.” They discussed it and came to the realization that the troublemakers were probably just feeling left out of all the fun. So an invitation went out, formally and on a one-to-one basis. “Come and join us! There’s enough fun for everyone, and we’d love to have you.”

In 1989, Yuri and Liudmila Terebenin of St. Petersburg (then called Leningrad) and their daughter, Anna, were visiting friends in Budapest, Hungary. A Latter-day Saint friend invited them to church, where they felt the Spirit and decided to meet with the missionaries. They were eventually baptized. Though initially the only members of the Church in St. Petersburg, the Terebenins were not left alone for long. Members of the Church from Finland were already sharing the gospel with Russians, including Anton Skripko, who became the first Russian baptized in Russia.

At the time, Russia was experiencing political change, and Americans living and working in Moscow began to reach out to their Russian friends and acquaintances. Dohn Thornton met Galina Goncharova in 1989, and religion became a topic of discussion between them. Brother Thornton later recalled, “As I gave [Galina] the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith pamphlet, the most incredible thing happened. It was [as] if all the light in the room at that moment focused on the book. The Spirit came over us and [she] started to cry.”8 Galina told him that she felt the book was from God. She began attending church and was baptized in June 1990, becoming the first convert baptized in Moscow.

As Russians from St. Petersburg, Vyborg, Moscow, and other cities joined the Church, a new chapter opened in the history of the Church in Russia. On April 26, 1990, Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve offered a prayer of rededication for Russia in St. Petersburg, reaffirming the dedication that Elder Lyman performed nearly a century earlier and asking the Lord to extend the blessings of the gospel to the people.

Also in the spring of 1990, Tamara Efimova of St. Petersburg brought the missionaries to her home after meeting them at a friend’s home. Her father, Vyacheslav Efimov, was skeptical at first that these young men could teach him anything new about God. However, he became impressed by their gospel message. He wrote: “[It] gave me the opportunity to receive answers to my own questions and, most important, to understand that God loves each of us—we are his children and he has given us a Savior, his Son Jesus Christ, and each of us will be resurrected.”9 In June, Vyacheslav, Galina (his wife), and Tamara were baptized. From 1995 to 1998, Brother Efimov served as Russia’s first native mission president.

The church’s cultural hall is decorated with streamers of pink, blue, and yellow crepe paper. Near the entry is an arch of balloons. From the ceiling hangs a large mirror ball, slowly rotating and reflecting the colored lights.
The floor is occupied by groups of teenagers. I am 14. It is my first official church dance. Earlier that day, I had spent hours climbing ladders and taping streamers. We had blown up balloons and twisted tissue paper. After taking a moment to admire our work, I hurried home to get ready.
I had carefully chosen my material and sewn my dress to fit the Hawaiian theme. Tiny flowers nestled on a creamy background. While decorating, I had made a multicolored flower. This I would wear in my hair.
I had showered and “borrowed” some of my mom’s Chanel No. 5 after-bath powder. I put on a little bit of lipstick and curled my hair. Every strand was perfect.
Now my heart pounds as I slip off my coat and enter the dimly lit hall, anxious to begin dancing.
But nothing is how I imagined it. For most of the night, I stand on the sideline with a group of girls pretending to be fascinated by the conversation.
The music starts, and I glance over to see a boy making a nonchalant zigzag towards us. My heart starts to race. Maybe this time I will be asked to dance. No. He chooses the girl next to me. The music announces the start of another dance. Everyone in our group is being asked to dance except me.
I look around, intently studying the decorations closest to me. A few boys who aren’t dancing awkwardly gulp the watery punch. Slowly I walk over to one of the chairs arranged at the side of the dance floor. I sit, staring down, not daring to look up for fear the tears that sting my eyes will escape.
Gently, a strong, comforting arm slides around my shoulders. There, beside me, sits my father. Usually he keeps his distance, knowing that parents are sometimes a burden at these functions. However, he knows that this time he’s needed.
For a few minutes we both gaze out at the couples dancing on the floor. Then, with a huskiness in his voice, he says, “I have never complained about being handicapped. I have never regretted it except for times like this. I hope the Lord will forgive me, but how I wish I could dance with my girls!”
As I turn to my father, sitting there in his wheelchair, I see tears in his gentle, loving eyes. My father had been a graceful dancer before his accident. His regret, though, isn’t for himself; it is for me.
The rest of the dance is a blur as I sit, with tears running down my cheeks, next to a father who cares about me.

Our own little grandchildren are also learning at this point in their lives to love the scriptures. We are so delighted in their responses. For instance, three-year-old Joshua, who loves heroes in all stories, used to blurt out at the climax of each scripture story: “And then, who saves the day? Jesus saves the day!” Joshua was learning an important lesson: that Jesus really is our Savior. Even His name means “save.” Now in his prayers he prays about the characters that he has met on a daily basis. Once he prayed that Peter would not sink again, and then he prayed that the swine would not drown when they ran into the sea. Another time he prayed that Laman and Lemuel would be nice to Nephi. And we’ve even heard him pray for Jesus’ daddy, who is Heavenly Father. Joshua recently received his own real copy of the Book of Mormon from his nursery leader in Primary. He no longer wants his mommy to read from the Book of Mormon reader. He told her he likes the real words the best.