Gospel Story Finder

Josh carefully colored in the last black spot on his white T-shirt. Normally he’d be grounded for a million years for coloring on his clothes. But Mom said it was OK this time. Josh was going to a Primary activity, and all the kids were supposed to dress up like their favorite book or movie character. Josh was going as Dex the Dalmatian, the mystery-solving dog!
After Mom dropped Josh off, he spotted Robbie and Nate from his Primary class. Robbie looked like a pirate, and Nate was some kind of superhero.
“What are you supposed to be?” Robbie asked when Josh came closer.
“I’m Dex from Sticky Ricky.”
Robbie and Nate laughed. “That show is so lame!” Robbie said.
Josh felt his face go red. “Well, who did you guys dress up as?”
“Can’t you tell?” Robbie asked. “I’m Percy, from The Pirate’s Revenge.”
“And I’m Captain Scorpio,” said Nate. “You seriously haven’t seen those movies? Everybody has!”
Josh looked down. “I guess my family watches different kinds of shows.”
Just then Sister McCarthy called everyone to get in a circle for a game. Josh made sure he was far away from Robbie and Nate.
The next week, Josh played basketball with some other boys from Primary. He tried his best, but he wasn’t very good at it. He couldn’t bounce the ball right or make a basket. The other boys laughed when he couldn’t throw the ball very high.
Josh ran home, trying not to cry. I’m not doing that ever again! I don’t even like sports! he thought. And I’m not going to any more Primary activities, either. I just don’t fit in. When Josh got home, he played the piano to calm himself down. Then he read his favorite book until he felt better.
A few weeks later, a boy named Mark moved into Josh’s ward. Josh could tell right away that he was cool and popular and good at sports. Would he make fun of Josh like the other boys did?
But he was actually really nice! Mark sat by Josh and talked with him about a book he was reading. A few days later he invited Josh to play basketball.
Josh didn’t really want to play basketball. It had been pretty awful last time. But maybe with Mark there it would be better. He decided to give it another chance.
The first time Josh tried to shoot the ball, it didn’t get very far. It dropped to the ground and bounced away. Josh froze, waiting for Mark to laugh at him. But instead, Mark just grabbed the ball and smiled.
“Hey, good try!” Mark passed the ball back to Josh. “Try again.”
Later, during a game, Mark kept passing the ball to Josh. Their team lost, but Mark didn’t seem mad about it.
“Great game!” he said with a smile. “If you want, we could stay and practice for a little while.” Mark taught Josh how to hold the ball when he was shooting and how to aim for the basket. After a little while, Josh made a basket!
“Awesome!” Mark gave Josh a high five.
“Thanks for helping me,” said Josh.
“It was fun! See you tomorrow?”
“OK!”
As Josh walked home, he couldn’t stop smiling. He was glad to have a friend like Mark. And maybe one day, he could be a friend like Mark to someone else.

Why do bad things always happen to me?” grumbled Harold as he tried to pull his school backpack out from under him. It was a cold morning, and the road to school was very icy. He was late, and in his hurry, he had fallen just outside the school door and landed on his backpack.
Harold looked inside the pack. “Oh no!” he moaned. “This is worse than I thought.” When he’d fallen, he’d mashed everything in his lunch, including the little box of juice his mother had put in as a treat. It had squirted over everything. Harold pulled out his book report. It was dripping with apple juice.
“Why do bad things always happen to me?” he muttered over and over as he opened the school door and went down the hall to his class, holding the dripping book report with two fingers.
“Good morning, Harold. How are you today?” Mrs. Bennett asked as he walked into the classroom.
“I’m terrible,” he growled as he hung up his coat and sat down.
Two girls nearby giggled. “Harold is always terrible,” Katie said.
“Always,” laughed Anna.
Mrs. Bennett went over and sat down next to Harold. “Why is everything so terrible?”
Without a word, Harold showed her the soggy and sticky book report. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He smoothed it out on the top of his desk and said, “See this? Bad things always happen to me. I can prove it because I have them all written down on this list. Now I need to add what happened on the way to school. I fell on the ice. I smashed my lunch. Juice got all over my book report, and I think I bruised my elbow.”
“Well,” his teacher said, “that is kind of a tough way to start the morning. What else is on your list?”
Harold read down his bad things list. “Yesterday I stubbed my toe. My two big brothers drank all the chocolate milk at dinner before I could get any. I didn’t get a turn on the swings at recess. On Monday I lost my favorite toy, and my pencil broke during the spelling test. Amanda spilled her milk in the lunchroom, and it went all over me.” Harold took a deep breath and was about to go on.
“I see what you mean,” Mrs. Bennett broke in quickly. “I’m wondering, though, just why you keep all of that on a list.”
“Because if I don’t, I might forget something. You see bad things always happen to me.”
Mrs. Bennett looked at Harold and then pulled a pencil from behind her ear. “Do you know what I think?” she asked.
Harold shook his head.
“I think your list isn’t long enough.” Harold looked at his teacher in surprise. He thought his list pretty much covered everything. He had kept it in his pocket and added to it all week.
“I’m really curious to see what your list looks like if you write down absolutely everything that happens to you today. You will need more than that little paper. Here, use this notebook. Start with what happened on the way to school; then add everything that happens to you all day.”
“OK,” Harold said, “but you’ll see that bad things always happen to me.” Mrs. Bennett just smiled, and he started writing. He made sure that he covered all the details about the apple juice, the ruined book report, the mashed sandwich, his bruised elbow—everything.
Math was the first class. The students worked through the problems on the chalkboard while Mrs. Bennett handed back their tests. Harold’s had a big 100% written on the top! She winked at Harold when she gave it to him and said, “Better write this down in the notebook.” Harold got out his list.
Later the students were reading aloud a play, and when they drew names, Harold drew the part of the hero! Mrs. Bennett winked again, and Harold knew that he was supposed to write that down.
As the children put on their coats to go outside for recess, his teacher noticed that he had some new boots with a warm, fuzzy lining and new gloves to match. “New boots, Harold?” she asked.
“Yep,” he said. “Mom got them for me yesterday.”
“Hmmmm,” Mrs. Bennett rubbed her chin. “That sounds to me like something that happened to you.”
“I know,” said Harold. “I’d better write it down.” While he was at it, he noticed that his coat was pretty nice and warm, too. Then he realized that he hadn’t yet written down anything about the hot breakfast his mother had made for him.
As the day went on, Harold’s list grew longer and longer. Right after lunch, he put down all about how terrible it was to eat a mashed lunch and how Robert had laughed about his funny flat sandwich for an hour. But out on the playground, he scored three baskets for his team, and Nick asked him to play after school, and he had to put that on the list too.
During art, his paint water spilled all over. That went into the notebook in big, capital letters. Jenny helped him wipe everything up, though, and Mrs. Bennett winked again, so he knew he was supposed to add “help from a friend” to his list. He was on the third page of the notebook already.
At the end of the day, Harold took the notebook back to his teacher. “Well,” he said, “I think I’ve recorded just about everything.”
“Good,” she said. “What do you think—shall we count up all the bad things now?”
Harold looked at his feet and fiddled with the old crumpled list in his pocket. It was really hard for him to say it, but maybe everything wasn’t so terrible. “Mrs. Bennett,” he said as he looked at the notebook, “I think maybe I saved up all the bad things so long that I forgot to notice the good things.”
Mrs. Bennett smiled.
“This kind of list is a lot more interesting to write than the old one. Do you think I could keep this paper?”
“Harold, you can keep the whole notebook,” Mrs. Bennett said. “I hope you keep adding things until it’s a very long list.”
Harold grinned. “Thanks,” he said. “But, you know, it still makes me mad that my apple juice ended up all over my book report instead of in my lunch.”
“I bet it does,” Mrs. Bennett said, “but at least it helped you see not only that good things happened to you, too, but also that it helps to write things down. Hmmm—I think you’ll have good things happen to you next week when we start a lesson on journals. What do you think?”
“Yes!”

Alex looked around the fabric store. There were tons of colors and cool patterns. He saw a few that would be perfect.
“Hey, Mom,” said Alex, pointing to some fabric with colorful geckos on it. “Do you like these geckos?”
“I like cute, fluffy bunnies better,” Mom said.
Alex laughed. “You know what I mean! Would this be good for the scarves?”
“I think your friends will like it.”
Alex was going to make scarves for his friends. He would use the soccer-ball print for Josh, the rocket-ship print for José, and the gecko print for Mike.
Soon they were heading home with the fabric. As they left the parking lot, Alex saw a man holding up a cardboard sign to ask for help. He knew the man probably didn’t have a job or a home. And he looked really cold! He only had a thin jacket. Alex had a thick winter coat, but he still got cold walking to school in the mornings.
When they got home, Alex’s mom showed him how to lay the fabric out straight and measure how much he needed to make one scarf. He carefully cut the fabric with his scissors. Then he cut slits along the ends to make a fringe. Before long, Alex had six brightly colored scarves. There was also a big pile of extra fabric.
“Can you think of anyone else you want to make presents for?” Mom asked.
“Not really,” Alex said. Then he thought of the man holding the sign. He had an idea.
That week for home evening, Alex taught his whole family how to make scarves. His mom measured them out. His dad cut the fabric. Alex and his sister made the fuzzy fringe. He liked making scarves with the gecko fabric. The geckos seemed to smile at him as he worked.
“Wow,” Alex said when they finished. “We made 14 scarves to share!”
“What do we do now?” his sister asked.
“I think we should put them in the car,” Alex said. “Then when we see someone who looks cold, we can give them one.”
“That’s a great idea,” Dad said.
Mom took a bag out of the closet, and they stacked the cozy scarves inside. “Maybe we can go on a family drive sometime to look for people who need scarves,” she said.
“Can we go right now?” Alex asked.
Mom looked out the window. “I don’t know. It’s kind of cold outside.”
“Isn’t that the point?”
His parents smiled. “I guess you’re right,” Mom said. “Just make sure to bundle up.”
Alex threw on his coat, but he hardly noticed the cold air. He knew his scarves might help someone, and that made him feel warm inside.

When I was in my teens, a recently returned missionary named Brother Peterson taught our Sunday School class. Every week he would draw a large arrow from the lower left-hand corner of the blackboard pointing to the upper right-hand corner. Then he would write at the top of the blackboard, “Aim High.”

Whatever doctrine he was teaching, he would ask us to stretch ourselves, to reach a little higher than we thought was possible. The arrow and those two words, aim high, were a constant invitation throughout the lesson. Brother Peterson made me want to serve a good mission, to do better in school, to set my sights higher for my career.

Brother Peterson had a work for us to do. His goal was to help us “think about, feel about, and then do something about living gospel principles.” His teaching helped save my life.

Later on I became a student in college, and I found that some of the things I believed in and felt I knew to be true were regarded as ridiculous and immature by some of my professors. They believed in things totally foreign to the beliefs I had been taught from my earliest childhood. They ridiculed my belief in God as simply superstitious nonsense. They made fun of the Book of Mormon. They laughed at the concept of Joseph Smith being a prophet. They refused to believe the Bible was anything more than literature. I felt crushed.
To me these were learned men. They held doctor’s degrees from great universities. They were well-read. They seemed to have answers and proofs for everything they taught. I was merely a student, and they were professors with years of schooling, research knowledge, and experience. To say that I was impressed is perhaps an understatement. My faith and my beliefs were shaken, and I teetered on the edge of an abyss of indecision. What should I accept as truth? Should I accept the teachings of these learned men, or should I retain my belief in what I had been taught by my parents, my Sunday School, Primary, religion class, and priesthood teachers and had learned through my own experiences?
Those teachers who would have led me to reject God and my religious ideals were not always happy men. Some were disillusioned and some were bitter. Fortunately I made my decision to stand for what I felt was truth. To one professor who was particularly sarcastic toward my religious concepts I simply stated, “Doctor, I refuse to believe you! I will answer your examination questions the way you want me to, but I want you to know that unlearned as I am, one thing I do know is that God lives. I believe in him with all my heart. I will listen to your teachings, but I refuse to change my beliefs or my faith.” He just looked at me and shook his head. But I had been a missionary and could not deny those things I felt deep within my heart to be true. I could not prove them to him, but I believed them and they gave me both hope and comfort.

Tomorrow was Christmas!
Jacob helped Mom make sugar cookies. They made them in fun shapes. Stars. Candy canes. Snowmen. Christmas trees.
Mom made frosting. Jacob helped frost the cookies. Jacob and Mom put sprinkles on the frosting. Jacob was having fun.
But Jacob kept thinking. There were lots of presents under the Christmas tree. One of them was wrapped in red paper. It had Jacob’s name on it. He thought maybe it was a soccer ball. Jacob loved soccer.
Tomorrow was so far away. Jacob wiggled in his chair. He wanted Christmas now!
“Time for dinner,” Mom said. It was chicken noodle soup. That was Jacob’s favorite! But all through dinner Jacob wiggled. It was just too hard to wait for Christmas.
After dinner the family went to the living room. Jacob tried to sit still. But he kept wiggling. He wanted to open his presents.
Jacob’s family had a Christmas program. They sang “Silent Night.” Then Dad read about when Jesus was born.
Jacob stopped wiggling. He felt peaceful. He remembered that Christmas was about Jesus.
Mom prayed. Then Jacob hugged her.
“Jesus is the best part of Christmas!” he said.

Last January in an effort to stimulate missionary activity, our Ohio stakes presented a program on the Word of Wisdom entitled “What Makes Mormons Run?” Church leaders encouraged members to bring many friends and neighbors to this meeting. A stake high councilor was sure his neighbors would refuse; and though he felt obligated to invite his next-door neighbor, he kept putting it off, knowing they would not accept.
Finally, somewhat embarrassed, he decided not to postpone the challenge any longer; and after praying that his approach and words would not be misunderstood by his neighbor, and holding the hand of his eight-year-old daughter, he went next door. They knocked on the door, were warmly greeted, and invited in. An invitation was extended to this neighbor family to come and hear a world leader and a prophet of God. The family agreed to attend.
Now it was much easier to ask other neighbors, friends, associates, his daughter’s piano teacher, and many others. His newly found courage led to more success and a comfortable feeling. Over forty people responded to his invitation. They had to charter a bus to transport their guests to the meeting.
And what about the first neighbor he invited? They are now members of the Church, a potential “forever family.” Before this family was baptized, this high councilor wrote, “I tremble to think that because of my reluctance to share the gospel with my neighbors, this choice family would have lost the blessings of the gospel. Oh, that every Church member could feel this wonderful experience!”
And why did his neighbor decide to investigate the Church? The neighbor said: “If any other neighbor had come to my door to invite me to investigate religion, I would have declined; but we were so impressed with your family, your cleanliness, and your actions. You are always friendly and smiling. Your yard looks so neat and clean, and you are up working in your yard before anyone else is out of bed in the morning. We wanted to learn more about you and your church.”

At the April 2022 general conference, President Russell M. Nelson taught us, “Some trials are deeply private burdens no one else can see. Others are played out on the world stage.”1
This reminds me of the experience that I had with a good member named Sister Edna who was in my Gazcue ward. She was a person who was always smiling and full of enthusiasm for life.
One day she had an accident while riding her bike and, to her surprise, she unexpectedly slipped off the bike bringing her body silently to the ground. The fall was a strong blow to her body and they rushed her to the hospital. There, they discovered that the fall had caused extreme damage to her liver and other vital organs, and it was necessary for her to go into surgery. All the families and the members in the ward were worried about our dear Sister Edna.
It was just Sister Edna and her husband in their home at this time because her daughter was serving a mission in another country and her son had just joined the U.S. Navy.
As the days passed, the general infection from the accident caused the deterioration of her health and she went from one hospital to another for various surgeries. The sisters of the Relief Society would go to the hospital every day to bring her comfort and assist in her care. When the doctors had to forbid visits because of her delicate condition, the Relief Society sisters waited at the door, praying and waiting for encouraging news. Every day we prayed and fasted to invoke the powers of heaven.
One of the sisters shared her personal experience of this event. There was an evening when she had gone to bed very concerned about Sister Edna’s critical condition. She prayed fervently while imagining the tremendous physical pain Sister Edna was surely feeling. As she thought about this, she also felt Sister Edna’s indescribable pain in her own body as though she was the one who was hurt and beaten internally. This sister had so much love and empathy for Edna that she experienced for a moment the pain that Edna felt.
Later, thanks to prayers and medical interventions, Sister Edna made a miraculous recovery.

During the summer months, the vacation period, I had to spend a few weeks at home with a little ailment. It gave me an opportunity to read a few books, and I read my patriarchal blessing and the blessings that I received from presidents of the Church when I was set apart as mission president twice; when I was set apart as the Presiding Bishop of the Church; and last of all when President David O. McKay, assisted by his counselors and the members of the Quorum of the Twelve, laid his hands upon my head twenty-four years ago last April in the holy temple and ordained me an apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ.
In the blessing, President McKay gave me a charge that I should be a witness of Him, and that I should bear witness of His divine calling and the divine calling of His prophet Joseph Smith and of the truths of the restored gospel. And my, the joy I have had in these 24 1/2 years trying to respond and be obedient to the charge that President McKay gave me upon that occasion. I have had great joy and happiness therein.

I was eating a lot of junk food and wanted to be healthy, so I decided to make a New Year’s resolution not to eat any candy for a month. Whenever I got candy I saved it in a jar. At the end of the month, I would share the candy with other people.
In the first week of January, I felt like I wasn’t doing very well because I had already eaten three pieces of candy. When I realized I wasn’t following my resolution, I decided to pray about it. It helped! After the first month, I decided to do it for a whole year. I haven’t had a piece of candy now for 14 months! My goal was to save 400 pieces by the end of the year, but I have saved 731 pieces of candy instead.
It has been really hard at times, but it has gotten easier and easier. At school we got candy several times a week for rewards. In Primary we received candy for memorizing scriptures, Articles of Faith, and other things, all of which I did. I just saved my candy in my candy jar.
I feel like I have learned a lot of self-control and can do anything I put my mind to with Heavenly Father’s help. I now set my alarm with my twin sister, Clair, at 6:25, and we get up and do personal scripture study with my older brother, John Taylor, and my mom.
I try to be healthy and eat lots of fruits and vegetables. I feel really good. I know Heavenly Father is proud of how I am treating my body. I feel like I can sacrifice more things now in lots of areas of my life.

In my class at school, there are only two other members of the Church. What we believe is like a new world to some of my classmates. They often ask us questions about the gospel, and some are difficult to answer. If we don’t know the answer to a question, we discuss it together and seek guidance from our Church leaders. Once we know how to respond, we tell our classmates about what we know to be true. I have even invited some of them to come and see for themselves how we worship, and they’ve received good feelings about sacrament meeting.

One day last year, my friend invited me to his house to have a Teddy Bear Tea Party with him and his sisters. I thought they would have pretend tea at this party. Instead, they offered me real tea with honey. I remembered an article in the Friend about President David O. McKay.* Once when he was visiting the queen of the Netherlands, she offered him tea. He politely refused it. I knew that if tea isn’t good for a prophet, then it isn’t good for me. I told my friend, “No thank you. Tea isn’t good for you.” They didn’t know about the Word of Wisdom, and they told me that tea was good for me. But I said, “No thank you,” again. So my friends gave me some water to drink, and we had a good time together.
When I made this choice, I had a good feeling inside. My mom and dad said I was setting a good example for my friends who aren’t members of the Church. I know that Jesus Christ wants me to take care of my body, and I am trying to do that.

I have discussed the duty of priesthood leaders and members to care for their families, quorums, wards, and stakes. I should like now to discuss another aspect of priesthood responsibility, which is our privilege to sustain those in authority over us. Wilford Woodruff recorded a remarkable account which illustrates the importance of this responsibility.
In the early days of the Church, President Brigham Young asked Wilford Woodruff to take his family to Boston and gather the Saints from New England and Canada and send them to Zion. With a company of 100, they arrived at Pittsburgh at sundown. Brother Woodruff recorded:
“We did not want to stay there, so I went to the first steamboat that was going to leave. I saw the captain and engaged passage for us on that steamer. I had only just done so when the spirit said to me, … ‘Don’t go aboard that steamer, nor your company.’ Of course, I went and spoke to the captain, and told him [that] I had made up my mind to wait.
“Well, that ship started, and had only got five miles down the river when it took fire, and three hundred persons were burned to death or drowned.” What if the Saints had not followed the counsel of Wilford Woodruff? All wisely chose to be obedient. Had they not done so, they would have perished.

But the meaning of honesty was agreed on from the beginning of the marriage of Lucy Mack and Joseph Smith, Sr. They met after she came to Tunbridge, Vermont, to help the family of her brother Stephen, a well-to-do, enterprising landowner and merchant. He and his business partner, John Mudget, gave Lucy $1,000 as a wedding present, an amount that she frugally saved for years. Her husband had an asset of equal value in his share of his father’s farm, but the time came when both gave their possessions to preserve their honor. Some eight years after their marriage they operated a country store and also invested in exports to China. But profits of their China venture were dishonestly kept from them, and hundreds of dollars of store accounts were uncollectible from the neighbors. Nevertheless, they still owed Boston wholesalers for the goods that they had sold. So Lucy gave her dowry, and Joseph, Sr., sold his interest in the farm in order to pay nearly $2,000 owed their suppliers. It would have been all too easy to move away with debts unpaid, but the Smiths kept their word. Thus the children raised in their home were given high ideals of trustworthiness.

Thank you so much for the article “I Found Peace” in the March 1996 issue. I have been through some hard times. I went on a camp for a week, and when I came back I found out my uncle had died. I got mad at the Lord because I really loved my uncle, and I had been looking forward to seeing him the next week. But when I read that story, I knew Heavenly Father loves me and will help me deal with my uncle’s death.
Cindy SimperCanyon Country, California

Benjamin Ballam is the special spina bifida child of Michael and Laurie Ballam. He has been such a blessing to them and many others. Also spiritually precocious, Benjamin is a constant source of love and reassurance. Having had 17 surgeries, resilient Benjamin knows all about hospitals and doctors. Once, when an overwhelmed attendant became vocally upset—not at Benjamin, but over stressful circumstances—little three-year-old Benjamin exemplified the words of another Benjamin about our need to be childlike and “full of love” (Mosiah 3:19). Little Benjamin reached out, tenderly patted the irritated attendant, and said, “I love you anyway.” A similar episode occurred recently in an Israeli hospital, where little Benjamin, going through a necessary but very painful procedure, used the same loving words to reassure a physician. No wonder, brothers and sisters, in certain moments we feel children are our spiritual superiors.

Before my mission, I had things I, too, needed to clear up with the bishop. I was afraid to talk to him at church because I thought it would look obvious. So I called him at work and said I would be playing basketball at Mutual. I asked him if he could casually ask to speak with me for a minute or two. I remember the feelings I had experienced. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I walked out of my bishop’s office feeling much better.
Name withheld

When he arrived at stake youth conference, Jade Meynders got out of the car, picked up his things, including his sleeping bag, and started walking down a dirt road cut through a thick forest. Those around him were dressed as if from a day long past—the girls in long dresses and bonnets, the boys in shirts with full sleeves and some in long-tailed coats, styles from 150 years ago.
As they walked, they noticed markers set up several yards apart with years painted on them. Each step took Jade back in time. “It really helped prepare my mind to comprehend and feel what was going to happen,” said Jade.
At the end of the road, the groups walked into a full-size replica of a pioneer town, complete with the Whitney store and the Grandin press, although those two businesses, significant in the history of the Church, were not originally in the same town. The Abbotsford British Columbia Stake was taking the youth back in time so they could witness several events from a variety of locations in Church history.
The town, in a forest setting, was a remarkable replica made possible by the volunteer work of some 120 men in the stake. It was originally a partially built movie set of a typical town in the western United States or Canada during pioneer times. The leaders of the Abbotsford Stake made arrangements for volunteers to help the owners finish the buildings, including adding roofs, hanging doors, installing windows, and painting the buildings. The owners then agreed to let the stake use the movie set as the location of their youth conference.
So when Jade and his friends entered the town, it really felt like they had stepped back in time to the 1830s.
The town was dressed with garlands and flowers. The teens, their leaders, and members of the stake who agreed to play the parts of prominent Church members in history gathered for a typical fair from pioneer times. The group played games, held competitions, and enjoyed entertainment. At the end of the day, the mayor gathered everyone together and organized them into families. Under the direction of their leaders, the “families” set up their camps in a nearby wood, which would be home for the next week.
“I finally understood what the early Saints lived through and how their testimonies were their only possessions that were certain,” said Alex Loewen. “It inspires me to keep a strong testimony and rely on the Lord like they did.”
The next morning, the daily newspaper, the Times and Seasons, was delivered to each family before breakfast. It reported on the events of the previous day and announced the schedule for the upcoming day. The most anticipated event was a meeting called by the Prophet Joseph Smith for the entire village to meet in the square.
The person playing the part of Joseph Smith recounted the persecution the Saints had suffered in Jackson County, Missouri. Then he called for young men to volunteer to leave the village and march to redeem Zion. Later, the volunteers followed their leaders down main street as young women gave them bottles of water and supplies for the journey.
While the young men were gone, the young women reenacted the organization of the Relief Society, where Emma Smith and her counselors and secretary were sustained.
The young men marched a good distance with meager rations of beef jerky, crackers, and dried apples. A heavy rain fell, and the young men had only tarps to sleep under, but no one complained that wet, weary night. Instead, their heads were filled with thoughts of those who walked the 1,000 miles on the real Zion’s Camp.
The next morning, everyone gathered to listen to the person playing the Prophet Joseph Smith announce the building of the Kirtland Temple. A wooden frame replica had been erected by volunteers a few weeks earlier. Each family took turns helping to finish the outside of the structure, using cut tiles of Styrofoam and gluing them in place. Aleisha Anderson said that working on the temple was the highlight of the conference for her and that “it was spiritual and made me feel really good.”
The temple dedication was then reenacted. Rebekah Leonard said it was her favorite part of the week. “The weather was perfect, and the Spirit was so strong.”
On the final evening the teens put on their cleanest clothes and stepped out to the town’s midsummer square dance. Then, just as the dance was winding down and the sun was setting, the town gathered to witness a moving reenactment of the Prophet Joseph Smith’s being dragged from his home and tarred and feathered by a mob. Youth and leaders quietly and solemnly talked on the way back to their camps, where they gathered to discuss how opposition and faith still work together.
At about 10:30, the peace of the camp was shattered by the sound of shouts and gunshots. A mob of jeering men, some on horseback and some with lighted torches tore through the camp, driving the Saints out into the dark. Although the teens knew that they were not in any real danger, still the feelings of facing what early Saints had to face became vivid for them.
“In a weird way, I loved getting driven out of our camp by a mob,” said Alyssa Bill. “It showed me a small portion of the faith the Saints had to have to go forward with the Church. I’m really grateful that they stayed strong.”
The group gathered again by lamplight and heard their stake president talk about facing up to today’s dangers.
For many participants, the best part of the conference was feeling what it must have been like to have the Prophet Joseph Smith in their midst talking to them, playing games, and enjoying their company. Clayton Jensen said, “The conference made me realize there was more to Church history than we read. Now I know that the Prophet Joseph was someone who actually had fun and had friends like any other person.”
On the last day, the sheriff came to town and arrested Joseph and Hyrum Smith. The teens watched in dismay as the two were taken away. Later, the news spread that the Prophet and his brother had been martyred. Reactions were powerful and heartfelt. Jillian Collingridge said, “The reenactments definitely made things seem more real to me. The conference strengthened my testimony so much. I want more than ever to be the best I can be.”
On the final day, the group met together like the pioneers in Kirtland and Nauvoo did before leaving their towns. The gathering was used as an opportunity for teens to bear their testimonies.
Shoshana Okana loved the conference. She said, “It was amazing. It was a great way to learn more about our heritage and the strong Saints who helped keep the Church going through terrible persecution. My testimony is so much stronger, and not just my testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith and the sacrifices of the early Saints, but of the truthfulness of the gospel and the love our Church leaders have for us youth.”
That love held the Saints together in the past, and it will continue into the future.

I was excited to go to youth conference, but then I found out there were lots of rules—for example, no cell phones and no going outside alone. It seemed like adults were constantly keeping an eye on us. But I had a great time, made a lot of friends, worked on a service project, and learned about the gospel.
During a testimony meeting on the last day of youth conference, one of the leaders talked about how much he loves us, the youth in the stake.
If you love us, why do we have so many restrictions here? I thought. At that same moment, like he could read my mind, he answered my question.
Leaders put rules in place, he said, not to annoy us but for our safety. The moment he said that, I was touched by the Spirit. I understood that Heavenly Father gives us commandments for the same reason. They are not to annoy us; they are to help us return safely to Him (see Doctrine and Covenants 82:2–9).
The Holy Ghost touched me and helped me to know that this is true.
Serge P., Île-de-France, France

Several years ago a friend of mine had a young daughter die in a tragic accident. Hopes and dreams were shattered. My friend felt unbearable sorrow. He began to question what he had been taught and what he had taught as a missionary. The mother of my friend wrote me a letter and asked if I would give him a blessing. As I laid my hands upon his head, I felt to tell him something that I had not thought about in exactly the same way before. The impression that came to me was: Faith is not only a feeling; it is a decision. He would need to choose faith.
My friend did not know everything, but he knew enough. He chose the road of faith and obedience. He got on his knees. His spiritual balance returned.
Some years after the blessing to my friend, I received a letter from his son who was serving a mission. It was full of conviction and testimony. As I read his beautiful letter, I saw how a father’s choice of faith in a very difficult time had deeply blessed the next generation.