Gospel Story Finder

Opening night—that magic moment when the lights are dimmed and the audience is waiting for the first note of music.
It is just such an opening night for a group nervously waiting to go on stage, but instead of a cast of adults, the actors and stagehands are children ages 6 to 12. Their director and the mastermind behind the idea of presenting a full-fledged musical at the elementary school level is 15-year-old Braden Bell. And now, at opening night, he is giving last minute instructions to his cast, offering encouragement, and speaking into his headset, “Let’s go! All lights out.”
A youngster with a headset larger than his head looks at the clipboard he carries and flips the switch to start the show. A minute later, “Mary Poppins” walks down the aisle at the Knowlton Elementary School in Farmington, Utah.
When Braden approached his favorite elementary school teacher with the idea of producing Mary Poppins, at the school, she agreed. They approached the principal with the idea, and he gave them permission to use the school facilities. “I prayed a lot about doing the play and I always had a good feeling about it, so I knew it was the right thing to do,” Braden said. But even he was not prepared for the 350 students who auditioned to be in it. He had no idea that there would be such an interest in the production.
Managing a cast of first through sixth graders takes a lot of time and a lot of diplomacy. Braden organized mothers, fathers, and other students into committees to help him. This night the audience can see that the production is full of his imagination. He has taken simple things and solved set design problems. The toys in the bedroom were wired so that stage crew could just pull strings and have the toys magically “spring” onto their shelves.
“I can almost sit back and watch the play and be objective about it because I know that we had our Heavenly Father’s help,” Braden said. “I was just the tool he used to put it all together.”
Braden is no stranger to the stage. He started taking creative drama classes when he was nine. He was a member of the Academy of Gifted and Talented Entertainers sponsored by the local school district. In high school he was part of the drama team putting on plays and musicals. While he was heading up the Mary Poppins production, he was simultaneously rehearsing for a school play and his ward’s road show. “That was one of the happiest times of my life. I just went from one rehearsal to another.”
A burst of applause signals that the play is over. The curtain calls begin. At first people are just applauding, but then they stand on their feet clapping wildly. Finally Braden comes onto the stage. The audience knows that they have witnessed a small miracle and clap louder.
The crowd leaves and the auditorium is again in semidarkness when Braden finally finishes putting the last chairs away. He looks around and can still see the people, the performers, the magic. This is theater, a lot of hard work for that one moment when the lights dim to a golden glow and someone whispers, “Let’s go.”

While I was growing up in Korea, my father allowed his children to attend the church of our choice, but often during dinner we disagreed about our different religious beliefs. Because of this contention, my father wanted to unify our family’s religious beliefs. Since my younger brother was going to meetings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints with my uncle, my dad began attending meetings with them to learn more about the Church. I also attended and was impressed by fun Mutual activities and how the seminary program strengthened young people spiritually.
When I was 16, my parents and I were baptized, and the rest of our 23 family members and relatives joined the Church within seven months.

We know the Lord makes His servants bold. The young boy Joseph who saw God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, in a grove of trees was transformed into a spiritual giant. Parley P. Pratt saw that when the Prophet Joseph Smith rebuked the vile guards who held them captive. Elder Pratt recorded:
“On a sudden he arose to his feet, and spoke in a voice of thunder, or as the roaring lion, uttering, as near as I can recollect, the following words:
“‘SILENCE, ye fiends of the infernal pit. In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and hear such language. Cease such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!’”
Of that experience, Elder Pratt wrote, “Dignity and majesty have I seen but once, as it stood in chains, at midnight, in a dungeon in an obscure village of Missouri.”3

After his return from England, Brigham became ill with what is thought to have been scarlet fever. It was winter, and the family was living in a log cabin that had a blanket for a door.

“When the fever left me on the 18th day,” Brigham wrote, “I was … so near gone that I could not close my eyes, … and my breath stopped. … [Mary Ann] threw some cold water in my face; that having no effect, she dashed a handful of strong camphor into my face and eyes, which I did not feel in the least. … She then held my nostrils … , and placing her mouth directly over mine, blew into my lungs until she filled them with air. This set my lungs in motion, and I again began to breathe.”11 That inspired treatment, now a common resuscitative technique, was not known or practiced until the 20th century.

The landscape was nothing like she was used to. Hot, dry, and not a snowflake in sight, Texas seemed almost like another planet to Kayli C. For a girl who grew up in Alaska, that’s an understandable reaction.

“In Alaska, during the summer we called our hot weather anything above 50 degrees,” Kayli said. “In Texas it was hard to breathe because it was so humid and hot outside.”

For Kayli, the weather shift from Alaska to Texas was only one change among many. Her dad had just died in an unexpected tragedy, and their mother was unable to care for Kayli and her two younger sisters. At the time, Kayli, now a junior in high school, was 13, and her younger sisters, Jada and Rhianna, were only 10 and 8.

Extended family decided that the best solution would be for the three siblings to move in with their older sister and her husband in Texas.

Even though Jenny, Kayli’s older sister, and Jenny’s husband, Matt, welcomed the three siblings with open arms, this was anything but an easy transition.

First there was the weather. There was also the fact that, to the small-town sisters, the huge schools of Texas were overwhelming.

And then there was this whole practice of attending church …

“I loved growing up in Alaska,” Kayli says. “I loved the snow and cold. I loved going outside. Everything was so pretty. And I loved ice skating, sledding, and all the winter stuff.”

She’s also quick to point out a few other things about life back in Alaska. “My friends and I saw that doing bad things was how you got popular. And to me, being popular was how you became happy. So I wasn’t headed in a good direction.”

One of Kayli’s friends became pregnant. Another got involved with drugs. Some of her other friends started becoming extremely negative all the time.

“I liked living in Alaska,” Kayli says again. “But I really have to wonder where my life would be if I’d stayed there. A lot of my friends in Alaska are not in a good place now.”

One important event in Kayli’s life happened before she was even walking and talking. While Kayli was still very young, her older sister Jenny met the missionaries in college and joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. After attending one year of college in Alaska, Jenny transferred to BYU–Idaho, where she met her husband, Matt. After graduation, Matt and Jenny moved to Texas.

When they took in the younger siblings, Matt and Jenny had two rules about religion: “The first was that they would attend church with us, as part of the family,” says Jenny. “The second rule was that Matt and I would never require them to be baptized or even to take the missionary lessons. That had to be their own choice.”

So, Kayli started attending church as well as midweek activities. At first, it didn’t really do much for her. “I attended, but I didn’t believe anything,” Kayli says. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

However, she began to notice something unusual. “Every time I went to church or youth activities, I’d be happy.”

After a couple years of noticing this, Kayli was ready to meet a very special friend.

“I met my friend Maddie when we moved to another part of Texas the summer before 10th grade,” Kayli says. “She introduced herself and became such a great example to me.”

Kayli says that Maddie always seems upbeat and joyful, even when times get tough. As their friendship grew, Kayli looked forward to attending Church meetings and activities more.

“Maddie is such a good friend,” Kayli says.

Photographs by Aubrey Stock

Another big influence in Kayli’s life was seminary. Unlike when she first attended church, this time Kayli truly started paying close attention to what was being taught. “The reason why I started paying attention in seminary is that the people around me were really good at answering questions and participating. I wanted to be a part of that.”

The stars were aligning, as they say. Between studying the Book of Mormon in seminary, seeing the gospel bring happiness to her older sister, brother-in-law, and others in the ward, and making some key friendships, Kayli was ready to say yes when Maddie asked if she’d like to take the missionary lessons at her house.

From there, things moved quickly. Kayli and her younger sister—who was asked independently and by a different friend to take the lessons at that friend’s house—decided to be baptized on the same day.

“In Alaska, my happiness came from hanging out with my friends and trying to be popular,” Kayli says. “Now my happiness comes from the gospel. I’ve learned so much from the members here. I’ve learned that happiness and light come through Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father.”

Kayli’s testimony of the gospel grew, in large part, with a close study of the Book of Mormon in seminary. These days, the Book of Mormon is still just as important to her as ever. “The Book of Mormon is one of the main things that has been bringing me happiness,” she explains. “It’s changed me so much. I want others to feel that too and have been trying to share it.”

She carries the Book of Mormon with her everywhere she goes, including school. “There are so many things that kids at school do that drive the Spirit away, like using bad language or trying too hard to be popular,” Kayli says. “Keeping a Book of Mormon in my backpack helps me remember my goal: to keep the Spirit and share the positivity that the gospel brings us.”

She doesn’t know if her testimony would have had that chance to grow, though, if it hadn’t been for the faithful examples of Church members around her. “Members of the Church were a part of me being baptized,” she says. “Without their examples and spiritual light, I probably wouldn’t have noticed anything different in them and would have continued not paying attention to anything Church-related.”

Kayli and her siblings have definitely been through some hard times in the past. Yet Kayli has found hope for her future, and it’s a hope she wants to pass on to anybody else struggling through a hard time right now.

“Remember to press forward and keep focusing on the positive side of things,” Kayli says. “And if you’ve lost a loved one, remember that Heavenly Father has a plan for you and for others. We’ll be able to live with our families forever if we do what’s right.”

While accompanying President Dieter F. Uchtdorf to Eastern Europe last year, I marveled at the faith and courage of the Saints. One priesthood leader in Ukraine told us of being called to the branch presidency in the spring of 1994, only six months after his baptism. This would require becoming public with his faith and helping to register the Church in the city of Dnipropetrovs’k. It was at a time of uncertainty in Ukraine, and openly showing faith in Christ and in the restored gospel could mean difficulty, including the possibility of losing his job as a pilot.

The priesthood leader told us, “I prayed and prayed. I had a testimony, and I had made a covenant. I knew what the Lord wanted me to do.” Courageously, he and his wife went forward with faith, unashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Michelle and Julie were getting worried. Their adventure had begun just as they’d planned—leave campus right after Julie’s last class and take turns driving her sports car home where they would surprise Michelle’s brother on his birthday. But now it was 1:00 A.M. and they were stranded in the middle of nowhere with a flat tire. Few cars were passing (and who knew how safe they would be if someone did stop), and to top it off, they couldn’t figure out how to work their jack.

Michelle prayed, but they still couldn’t get the jack to work. Soon after, however, a truck pulled alongside and the girls held their breath as the man inside asked, “Need some help?”

Both girls started at once, “Yes, we do! Our jack won’t work and we have a flat tire.” The man didn’t reply but backed his truck behind them, his headlights lighting up the offending tire.

“The tire was awfully hot. Have we been driving too fast?” asked Julie.

“Can you figure out how to use this jack?” Michelle inquired.

The man was dressed in jeans, old cowboy boots, and a western shirt. He seemed unhappy and a bit gruff. “Probably a farmer from near here,” thought Michelle. He put a hand on the flat tire, then removed it quickly because it was still hot. He nodded in response to their questions, then walked around the little car touching the other tires.

“When a tire gets soft, it gets hot. The other tires are okay, though, so if you have a spare, you’ll soon be on your way,” he told them.

The girls had the spare out already. Michelle handed him the jack. “We can’t figure out how this thing works; it’s supposed to be the newest thing.”

The man illuminated the jack in the headlights, puzzled with it for a moment, then abruptly put it down and headed for his own truck.

“I’ll get my jack,” he called.

The two girls chattered in relief as he put his jack under the car and started to jack it up. They talked about school, how they were going to surprise Michelle’s brother, and how much farther they had to drive. The man grunted occasionally, listening but not saying much.

After they quieted down, they asked him where he was going so late at night. He grinned, “You know, I almost didn’t stop to help you because I’ve got to drive another 200 miles tonight to pick up five Boy Scouts and their driver. Their car broke down on their way to our campout.”

Finally the job was done; the man tightened the nuts on the spare tire and stood up, brushing his hands. “There, you’re all set.”

Both girls thanked him repeatedly. The man was silent, hesitated a moment, and then drew a deep breath. Finally he spoke: “If a pair of Mormon missionaries knock on your door someday, would you listen to them for me?”

Michelle squealed. “Are you a Mormon, too? So am I!”

“Well, I guess now I know what made me stop. God bless you and have a good trip.” He shook their hands, got in the truck, and was soon gone.

“I’ll drive,” said Julie as she headed for the driver’s seat.

“Fine,” said Michelle. As she got in on her side, she took a deep breath, then slowly began: “Julie, have you ever wanted to know anything about the Mormon church?”

The Auckland New Zealand Harbour Stake recently stepped back 50 years and once again made the twenties roar.
The stake held a Gold and Green Ball to celebrate its first birthday, and 750 Church members showed up dressed for the occasion—complete with flapper dresses, boas, and skimmers.
The Charleston and Black Bottom were revived, and everyone joined in chorus to wish the stake a happy birthday. The hall was turned into a makeshift garden for the event, and everyone had a roaring time.

Building anything in Alaska in the winter can prove quite a challenge, and constructing a temple is no exception. When work on the Anchorage Temple had to be delayed because of the weather, the youth in the area decided to give themselves a preview of what having a temple in their city would be like.
So they built a scale replica of the temple out of snow bricks, complete with an Angel Moroni statue on top. With a little help from the temple’s architect, who gave a youth fireside prior to the project, they came up with a pretty good likeness. The snow replica is about one-fifth the size of the real thing, which the youth can hardly wait to see.

I was called to Central America. After several months in the mission field, I realized what a blessing had come to me in that call. While I was helping to find people who loved the Lord, I was also walking in places where much of the Book of Mormon may have happened. This was a second witness to the testimony of my grandfather, who had learned to love the Book of Mormon the first time he got his hands on one in the 1920s. His father was a salesman and trader who traveled widely in Mexico. My great-grandfather had told his children stories of ruined cities and highways in the jungle, and my grandfather had always wanted to know who the people were who built them.

Since my mission, I have had the opportunity to visit many of those ruined cities in Mexico and Central America. I have read what experts say about those places and about the history and greatness of their people. I am very grateful for the added knowledge I have received.

But I have never been more sure of the Book of Mormon than I was that day when I asked the Lord if it was true and He answered me just as Moroni promised. I only wish I had asked sooner. My Heavenly Father wanted me to know the truth for myself all along, and I might have been able to share it with my friend.

I first heard the wonderful story of The Little Engine That Could when I was about 10 years old. As a child, I was interested in the story because the train cars were filled with toy animals, toy clowns, jackknives, puzzles, and books as well as delicious things to eat. However, the engine that was pulling the train over the mountain broke down. The story relates that a big passenger engine came by and was asked to pull the cars over the mountain, but he wouldn’t [lower himself] to pull the little train. Another engine came by, but he wouldn’t stoop to help the little train over the mountain because he was a freight engine. An old engine came by, but he would not help because, he said, “I am so tired. … I can not. I can not. I can not.”

Then a little blue engine came down the track, and she was asked to pull the cars over the mountain to the children on the other side. The little engine responded, “I’m not very big. … They use me only for switching in the yard. I have never been over the mountain.” But she was concerned about disappointing the children on the other side of the mountain if they didn’t get all of the goodies in the cars. So she said, “I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.” And she hooked herself to the little train. “Puff, puff, chug, chug, went the Little Blue Engine. ‘I think I can—I think I can—I think I can—I think I can—I think I can—I think I can—I think I can.’” With this attitude, the little engine reached the top of the mountain and went down the other side, saying, “I thought I could. I thought I could. I thought I could. I thought I could. I thought I could. I thought I could.”1

I hope we can all be like the “Little Engine That Could.” It wasn’t very big, had only been used for switching cars, and had never been over a mountain, but it was willing. That little engine hooked on to the stranded train, chugged up to the top of the mountain, and puffed down the mountain, saying, “I thought I could.” Each of us must climb mountains that we have never climbed before.

Photograph of London England Temple by Chris Wills
I was only 19 when my dad died on June 20, 2010. It was Father’s Day in the United States. My dad’s death shook me to the core, and I gradually stopped going to my church. How was I supposed to go to church and ask God for guidance when He didn’t listen to me when I needed Him most? I felt that He had abandoned me.
A few years later, I moved to London, England, for graduate school. On my walk to campus one cold, snowy day, I was listening to a musical on my earbuds when two missionaries approached me and introduced themselves.
Elders Hathaway and Porter asked what I was listening to. When I told them I was listening to The Book of Mormon musical, their eyes grew wide. The two missionaries then shared their testimonies of the book, giving me a copy. As I started to read the Book of Mormon, I realized that maybe God was giving me a sign, telling me that it was time to return to Him—but in a new way.
The next day the missionaries taught me the plan of salvation. During that lesson, Elder Porter said, “In the end, we will have the opportunity to be with our families again.” That was the most powerful doctrine I had ever heard. I would have a chance to be with my dad again. I knew right then that I wanted to learn more. My love for and trust in God started to slowly return.
On April 15, 2018, I was baptized. I will always remember how warm the water was. It was as if God was giving me a big hug and saying, “I missed you, Christine. Welcome back.” The reminder of God’s love was glorious. The Hyde Park First Ward also welcomed me and helped me on my journey.
If you had asked me a decade ago if I could ever love God again, I probably would have said, “No!” But being taught God’s plan of salvation changed that.
Soon, I went to the London England Temple, taking my father’s name with me. When someone was baptized and confirmed by proxy for my dad, I knew I was one step closer to being with him once more.
I know that I will be reunited with my father again. Now my love for God blossoms every day.

On that frozen morning, I heard shouting and distressed moos in the distance behind me as I ran to get an axe and some rope.
OK, hold on—let’s back up for some context.
Two years before that snowy morning, my family had moved from suburbia to a tiny little plot of farmland in Missouri. Our new property had some forested land to explore and a small pond, which was nice, but I wasn’t a fan of all the animals that I was now expected to help take care of.
Now, back to that cold winter morning. We could tell there was a problem when one of our poor little cows didn’t come to his food dish at the regular time, even after we shook the food in a metal tin. They were trained to come running when we shook the tin. It seemed to be some sort of angelic summons to them, but the tactic didn’t work that morning.
We kept waiting and soon heard distressed moos off in the distance. We went to investigate and discovered that the cow had walked out into the middle of the frozen pond and had fallen in. The pond was only about five feet deep, but the cow was quite small and had to bounce on his hind legs to keep his head above the frigid water.
And that’s when the yelling started.
My parents directed me to run to our toolshed a quarter of a mile away and bring back an axe that we could use to break up the ice, as well as some rope. The moment I got back to the pond, we tried to use the rope to pull the cow out but quickly discovered a couple of things: one, none of us actually knew how to tie a lasso, and two, the only rope available was closer in strength and size to twine. It seemed to me that our little cow was a goner.
My dad and mom really cared about that cow, so my dad led the charge, axe in hand, and they started to literally chop their way through the ice towards the cow, clearing a 20-foot-long path for the cow to walk out of the pond. Everyone was worried that either the cow would kick my dad or that my dad would accidentally hit the cow with the axe, but somehow the crazy plan worked. The cow didn’t drown!
But the worry wasn’t over. As soon as the cow got out of the water, he started shivering like an old washing machine on spin cycle. My parents were freezing too, but they were more worried about the cow. My dad ran to get a campfire started in the middle of the field while my mom ran to get some quilts. Us kids corralled the cow close to the fire so that he wouldn’t run away. Soon, he warmed up enough to stop shivering and eat some of his hard-won breakfast.

Some years ago, Elder ElRay L. Christiansen told about one of his distant Scandinavian relatives who joined the Church. He was quite well-to-do and sold his lands and stock in Denmark to come to Utah with his family. For a while he did well as far as the Church and its activities were concerned, and he prospered financially. However, he became so caught up in his possessions that he forgot about his purpose in coming to America. The bishop visited him and implored him to become active as he used to be. The years passed, and some of his brethren visited him and said: “Now, Lars, the Lord was good to you when you were in Denmark. He has been good to you since you have come here. … We think now, since you are growing a little older, that it would be well for you to spend some of your time in the interests of the Church. After all, you can’t take these things with you when you go.”

Jolted by this remark, the man replied, “Vell, den, I vill not go.” But he did! And so will all of us!

A couple of years ago, it was announced that a seventeen kilometer “marathon” would be held between the nearby cities of Jaltocan and Huejutla, Mexico. A month before the race, my seventy-two-year-old husband, Leon*, surprised me by saying, “I’m going to test myself by running a few kilometers, and if I do all right I’m going to enter the race.”
So early one morning he challenged himself to run a set distance. He returned successful. The route he had taken was downhill, and it was easy. However, I reminded him that the marathon route was mostly uphill. But, encouraged by the family, my husband decided he would run. Our sons even bought him a pair of good running shoes, and one of them also entered the marathon.
The day of the race arrived, November 26. With the exception of my husband and our thirty-eight-year-old son, all the marathon participants were in their early twenties. From the start, my husband set a steady running pace for himself. My daughter-in-law and I followed in a car to give water to our husbands every two or three kilometers. When my husband had completed ten kilometers, I told him, “Old man, stop and rest for a while like the others are doing.” He answered, “No, I’m not going to stop because if I do I’ll not make it to the finish line.” And he continued at his same steady pace.
There were many spectators along the route, and they were surprised when they saw a seventy-two-year-old man running by. When my husband had completed fifteen kilometers, I offered a silent prayer, asking the Lord to give Leon strength to finish the race. One of my grandsons cheered him on saying, “You’re doing great grandpa. You have only two kilometers to go.” His children and grandchildren and all the people were cheering for him.
Of the thirty-two runners who started the marathon, only six had the stamina to complete it, including Leon and our son. The young man who took first place made it in one hour and fifteen minutes. My husband was the last one to cross the finish line, and our son was the next-to-last.
When Leon arrived at the end of the route, children applauded and cheered: “Grandpa, grandpa, rah! rah! rah!” The mayor of the city embraced him, fireworks and rockets were set off, and a band played. It was announced that a great sportsman, seventy-two years old, had completed the marathon in two hours and fifteen minutes. Our children and I cried for joy. Leon kept only half of the prize money he received and donated the other half to public charities. His generosity, and his determination to participate to the end in the marathon, was a great example to his children.

Some weeks ago a man holding a high office in the Church asked a special favor of me. “Would you be good enough to take the time to listen while a mother, father, and their teenage daughter, special friends of mine, try to talk to each other?”
As the four of us sat together, it immediately became obvious that all channels of communication were jammed with prejudice, threats, accusations, and resentment. As the verbal storms developed with bitter intensity, I found myself the only listener. Even though they had individually and collectively agreed I would be the counselor, judge, arbiter, or referee, if you please, I found myself waiting patiently for an opportunity to be heard. During the heated and emotional confrontation, the teenager repeatedly expressed her resentment with, “You can’t talk to me like that. I am an adult now. You can’t treat me like that. I am an adult now. You can’t dominate my life anymore. I am an adult now.”
Each time she said “I am an adult now,” I cringed. By definition, an adult is a person who has attained the age of maturity—full grown. While it is true a person may be legally classified as an adult when he or she reaches a certain age, for our purposes today the kind of adult status we are talking about must be earned by actions and attitude.
I am not quite sure who has the right or responsibility to declare someone an adult, but I am quite certain that often the least qualified to make the declaration would be the individual himself. If a person is mature, he or she will not need to announce it. Personal conduct is the only true measurement of maturity. Adult classification, when it pertains to behavior, does not come with age, wrinkles, or gray hair. Perhaps it is not too far off the mark to say adult conduct is a process. Mature conduct is generally developed through self-discipline, resilience, and continuing effort.
In fairness to the teenager, even though her declaration of “I am an adult now” didn’t impress me favorably, there were times during the visit when I thought she showed more maturity than others in the room. When we who are more senior use an expression like “I am older than you” to clinch a point, I am not too sure it is very effective. How much better it is to gain respect and love through worthy parental conduct than to seek it through the means of the age differential.
Young men and young women worldwide, you, as well as your parents, need not announce or proclaim your maturity. By your faith and works you will be known for what you are. By your fruits you will be known and classified. Those among us who use abusive arguments, temper tantrums, demeaning and painful criticism, fruitless counter-complaints, and disrespect will benefit no one. Let us put away petty malice, resentment, and retaliatory practices that are self-destructive and return to a path of safety well marked by the Good Shepherd.
It takes courage to flee from verbal contention. When maturity begins to set in, adult lives set in. “Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice:
“And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you” (Eph. 4:31–32). It is alarming how many older people go through life without ever becoming real adults.
For many years I have had a very vivid picture in my mind of Jesus Christ standing before Pilate. While Jesus stood in front of an angry mob, who sneered and condemned, Pilate tried to get Him to respond and retaliate. He tried to get Him to declare himself a king. Jesus was silent. His life was his sermon. He was perfect in character, a worthy son, the Only Begotten of the Father. His maturity, if you please, would speak for itself.
“And Jesus stood before the governor: and the governor asked him, saying, Art thou the King of the Jews? And Jesus said unto him, Thou sayest.
“And when he was accused of the chief priests and elders, he answered nothing.
“Then said Pilate unto him, Hearest thou not how many things they witness against thee?
“And he answered him to never a word; insomuch that the governor marvelled greatly” (Matt. 27:11–14).
There are many opportunities to acquire mature behavior in the organizations in the Church. The other day a charming teenager paid a deserving tribute to her Young Women’s teacher. She said, “From her example and good lessons, we learned the importance of good grooming. We learned that though each of us is different, each is equally important. She taught us to solve our differences by discussion, not by shouting.”
The success of the Scouting program is that it teaches boys to stay on the trail. Boulders and hills don’t stop the hike to the top of the mountain. Top awards are not given unless the difficult merit badges are earned as well as the easier ones. The boys’ tenacity to continue on the Scouting path, not the honors awarded, is the maturing element of the program.
“A certain man had two sons:
“And the younger … said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me [I am an adult now]. And he divided unto them his living” (Luke 15:11–12).
The prodigal son parable is well known to all of us. He left and wasted his substance with riotous living. “When he came to himself, he said, …
“I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee,
“And am no more worthy to be called thy son: [but I am more of an adult now] …
“And he arose, and came to his father. … His father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him” (vs. 17–20).
I believe it appropriate to say the father, too, had become more mature during the separation. Think, too, of the maturing and the becoming of more of an adult on the part of the elder son when he witnessed and participated in the Christ-like example of his father (see vs. 25–32).
There is no doubt in my mind that one of the primary reasons Laman and Lemuel murmured and spoke harsh words to their brother Nephi and did smite him with a rod was because they were older and more adult than Nephi, so they supposed. Can’t you just hear Laman saying, “Nephi, you can’t treat me like that. I am an adult now.”
Nephi displayed real maturity when he declared, “I, Nephi, said unto my father: I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.
“And it came to pass that when my father had heard these words he was exceedingly glad, for he knew that I had been blessed of the Lord” (1 Ne. 3:7–8). Lehi was adult enough to know which son was the most mature and who would be blessed of the Lord accordingly.
Too many of us fail to realize adult conduct is a process, not a status. To become a disciple of Jesus Christ, we must continue in righteousness and in His word. When someone shares with enthusiasm his joy in now being an active member of the Church, the thought crosses my mind, “Wonderful, but for how long will you stay that way?” Incidentally, some years ago I was contacted by an insurance agent. When he started his sales approach with “I am an active member of the Church,” the first thought that crossed my mind was, “Who said so?”
When someone overcomes the drug habit, and thankfully many have, less time should be spent on announcing the present status and more on staying away from bad habits. Those who are morally clean will conduct themselves in a more adult fashion if they will spend less time declaring it and more time living and teaching others the blessings of chastity. Full tithe payers will receive more joy and reward from being obedient to the principle of tithing than from being so classified or recommended.
Some will chide and belittle leaders and students of higher education for participating in code of conduct guidelines, but those appropriately involved in the wholesome process of mature behavioral discipline welcome the environment. Responsible student conduct on any campus is applauded. A pledge of “on my honor I will do my best,” either in writing or when self-enforced, can make the difference in character development. Making and keeping commitments may seem restrictive and outdated in a today world where “play it loose” is the pattern, but the benefits are clear to the mature.
Those who are immature resent counseling or having to report in. They may feel that such interviews are juvenile. Those who strive for continual growth realize that counselors can help one analyze himself and find solutions to personal problems. In our church, counselors are a source of great strength for the prophet as well as for all of us.
Beware of those seeking excuses for conduct with “I am an adult now. You can’t treat me like that.” Moral maturity and scholastic maturity must be blended to produce a truly adult person. A commitment to improve on a daily basis should be a high priority in the lives of those who would move in the right direction.
There is real purpose and power in the First Presidency’s continuing invitation to all Church members to come back. Strength, growth, and happiness result from analyzing the direction our lives are taking. Those who have been lost, misunderstood, or offended and those totally involved in the Church are invited to come and fellowship together within the framework of the gospel of Jesus Christ. To be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is not enough. Participation in priesthood, Relief Society, Young Women, Young Men, Primary, and Sunday School opportunities is necessary if we are to move forward anxiously in personal development that is adult, real, and eternal. Perhaps all of us would do well to realize that as we promote personal activity and involvement in the Church, it might be much better to be classified a member of “good coming” instead of a member in good standing. It is our responsibility and privilege to encourage the immature and give them opportunities for growth and development.
Joseph Smith declared to the world he was like a rough stone shaped and polished by the stream of life. Bumps, disappointments, and the unexpected helped him gain the status of being wise beyond his years. Oftentimes maturity can best be measured by our endurance. “If the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up the way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.
“The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he?” (D&C 122:7–8).
My young friends, in a spirit of love I make the suggestion that we avoid the placing of self-labels. For you to classify yourself as all-state, all-American, or even all-world doesn’t mean anything if you alone determine the winner and present the trophy to yourself. By the same token, who among us has the right to label himself as a loser, no good, a dropout, or a failure? Self-judgment in any direction is a hazardous pastime. It is a fact of life that the direction in which we are moving is more important than where we are. I have never heard the best-educated ever declare, “I am educated now.” Some of the most potentially wise people in the world forfeit that classification when they spend their time advertising their abilities and knowledge rather than using their wisdom to improve themselves and help those with whom they associate.
Mothers, fathers, and family members, maturity does not necessarily come with age. Let us communicate in words and deeds our concern and love for each other. Threats, ears that do not hear, eyes that do not see, and hearts that do not feel will never bring joy, unity, and growth. Patience with others, self, and God brings eternal maturity. Let God and our daily actions determine the authenticity of the statement “I am an adult now.”
God is our Father. Jesus is the Christ. May our knowledge of them on a continuing basis give us Christ-centered adult conduct, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Sabrina and Mom flipped through the pages of Sabrina’s baptism book. Sabrina had just turned eight, and her baptism was two weeks away. She was excited—and a little nervous—to be baptized.
“Look at how much we’ve done already!” Mom said. She flipped through the pages. The book was to help Sabrina get ready for baptism. They had filled out the pages about her favorite things and another page about her family. Then they came to a page with the words “My Testimony” at the top.
“I don’t want to fill that one out,” Sabrina said.
“OK,” Mom said, turning the page. “We can fill it out later.”
“I don’t think I want to fill it out at all,” Sabrina said.
“Why not?” Mom asked.
“Because I don’t know what a testimony is.” Sabrina felt her face turn red and hot.
Mom paused. “It means knowing Heavenly Father loves you.”
“But Heavenly Father hasn’t answered my prayers.” Sabrina’s eyes stung with tears. “I’ve been praying for a whole month to find my blanket, but I still can’t find it!”
Sabrina loved her blanket. It was soft and pink. Her grandmother had made it for her when she was born. She had slept with it every night before it got lost.
Mom wrapped her arms around Sabrina. “Sometimes Heavenly Father doesn’t answer our prayers right away. And sometimes His answer is no. But that doesn’t mean that He doesn’t hear our prayers or that He doesn’t love us.”
Sabrina sniffed. “I guess.”
On Sunday, Sabrina’s Primary teacher, Sister Lee, read a story from the Friend. It was about a boy who was upset because he heard bad words on the bus. He prayed about his problem. Then he had the thought that he could listen to his headphones on the bus. That thought was the answer to his prayer.
“Oh! Is that all?” Sabrina asked. “I thought answers to prayers were bigger than that! Like hearing a voice or seeing an angel.”
“Sometimes that’s true,” Sister Lee said. “But most of the time, the Holy Ghost answers our prayers in quiet ways. Like through an idea or a warm feeling.”
Sabrina looked at the picture of the boy on the bus. She thought about the light, happy feeling she had about getting baptized. Maybe that was the Holy Ghost telling her that it was a good choice.
Maybe she really did have a testimony.
Sabrina’s baptism day came. Her dad took her hand, and she stepped into the warm water. When she came out of the water, she felt happy. And when Dad laid his hands on her head to give her the gift of the Holy Ghost, she felt warm all over.
The next Sunday was fast Sunday. People got up to share their testimonies. Sabrina jumped out of her seat and walked up to the front of the chapel. She took a deep breath and smiled. She knew what she was going to say now. And she knew what she was going to write on that blank page in her baptism book later.
She hadn’t found her blanket yet, but she had found her testimony.

As a brother with pornography concerns waits outside his stake president’s office, the stake president prays to know how to help. A clear impression comes: “Open the door and let the brother in.” With faith and trust God will help, the priesthood leader opens the door and embraces the brother. Each feels transforming love and trust for God and each other. Fortified, the brother can begin to repent and change.

A few weeks after Kayson left on his mission, my stake president visited me. I caught him up on what had happened during those weeks after my brothers had talked with me. I said I would like to get a new temple recommend. He asked if I could answer the recommend questions properly. I confessed, “President, I don’t think I can say I know that the Church is true yet, but I sure hope with all my heart that it is. And I am going to live my life in accordance with that hope. Is that enough?”
He paused for a moment then said, “Travis, that will always be enough.”

“I did not have a full assurance that Jesus Christ existed. When people asked me if I believed in God, I would tell them I didn’t know, because I didn’t have a real testimony.
“One of the elders who was teaching me helped me realize I needed to work to have a strong belief in God. He told me, ‘Study the scriptures every day, pray, and go to Church, and you will receive an answer.’ I put his advice into practice, and I soon realized that my faith was growing bit by bit.
“My friends say I’m not the same anymore. They want me to be like I was before, but I can’t. Being a member of the Church has changed my life.”
Shirley Álvarez Vega,El Socorro Branch,Cartagena Colombia El Bosque District