Gospel Story Finder

When I was 16, the stake presidency announced that our stake would visit the temple in Buenos Aires, and I was invited to go. I saved money and worked hard to be worthy to obtain a temple recommend.
After I received the recommend, temptations attacked me from every side, all trying to make me lose that worthiness. But I had a desire to attend the temple. I didn’t want to just hear the experience and testimony of others; I wanted to have my own experience and testimony.
The night to travel came. Even before getting on the bus, I had thoughts about not going, but I didn’t give in. During the 10-hour trip, I sat by a member of the Church who was very friendly to me. He was around 60 years old. He told me about his life and how happy he was to have gone through the trials he had.
I began to tell him about my life and how I felt very alone because many people had distanced themselves from me because I was following God. He told me, “God will give you a great friend, and that friend will always be there for you. Don’t forget it.” When he finished saying these words, I felt calm and peaceful because I felt that what he told me was true.
When I entered the temple, the heaviness I was carrying disappeared. It felt like there was a spiritual embrace telling me, “Welcome, my son. I have been waiting for you.”
I felt that the temple really was the house of God, not just a beautiful structure. After doing some baptisms and confirmations, I went outside. I felt the burdens return, but now I felt like I had the strength to overcome them.
I know that preparing ourselves and leaving everything in the hands of God and giving the best of ourselves to enter the temple is what is expected of us. Then God blesses us abundantly.

When Goethe wrote his Faust, I believe he was inspired to utter some truths about the method of attack by the enemy of our souls. You recall that the man Faust, an old man, was anxious to be made a youth again. He prayed for such a transformation. But the thing he sought for was unlawful, and the Lord had no answer for him. But he persisted in his prayers, and when we persist, not willing to say “Father, thy will, not mine, be done,” it is quite possible that the devil may answer us, as he did Faust. And so the devil said: “I will do this thing for you. I will make you a youth, and when you are a youth you will want a maiden.” And a vision of the beautiful Marguerite was shown. “But if I do this for you I want you to sign a contract that when you are done with this body your spirit belongs to me.”

It is not bodies, it is immortal spirits that the devil wants. And he tries to capture them through the body, for the body can enslave the spirit, but the spirit can keep the body a servant and be its master.

So the contract is entered into. Then as Faust is made a young man he remembers the promise of the virgin, the maiden, and the two go in search of her. They find her as she enters the church. Suddenly Faust rushes forward to seize her, but the devil holds him back and says: “Not so fast, not that way.” Here is a truth. The devil cannot capture any man or woman that way. He cannot suddenly sweep them off their feet and bind them as his slaves against their wills. The power is given to every man and woman that lives to speak as Christ did: “Get thee hence, Satan;” and he will leave you as quickly as he left the Master. He cannot capture a single soul unless we are willing to go. He is limited. He must win men and women.

So with Marguerite. He must win her. They study her and find her weakness. She is a chaste, virtuous, wonderful girl, yet she has a weakness. It is vanity. So they play upon that weak link. Jewels are placed in the garden, and with them the mirror. She discovers these things. Vanity prompts her to put the jewels on and suggest she look in the mirror and see how beautiful she is. At the psychological moment the tempter appears and offers them as a gift from her would-be lover. She is prompted to keep them.

The lovers spend the afternoon together, and the mother’s voice is heard calling Marguerite to come in from the garden, but she is loath to leave her new-found lover. Again at the psychological moment the tempter, the devil, appears, placing a pill in the hand of Faust with the assurance that if this is placed in the mother’s evening drink the mother will soon be asleep and the lovers will be undisturbed. As I have listened to the sad stories of more than one girl who has stolen away from her mother’s influence and come to sorrow and distress, I wonder why the warning is not sufficient to give every girl the assurance that the safest place in the world for her is as close to her mother as she can get.

The mother takes the potion and goes to sleep. The lovers spend the night together. Early morning brings the brother Valentino upon the scene, and he finds his mother—dead for it is the sleep of death—and a stranger in the house with his sister Marguerite. A quarrel follows, and a duel is fought in which Valentino, the brother, is slain. Now Marguerite comes to an awakening sense of her full situation and the consequences of her own act. She has slain her mother, brought the death of her brother, and—worse than her own death—she has lost her virtue. She is next seen weeping and tearing her hair, and the devil comes laughing upon the scene. He has captured another soul. Strongly fortified as she was, she had one weakness, and through that the enemy entered her citadel and she fell.

For over a decade, I worked as the senior vice president for Walmart in Brazil. My family was financially stable, I enjoyed my job, and life was good. But the job was demanding. It required me to travel a lot, which was interfering with our family and with my Church service. After 11 or 12 years, it was becoming too much.
My wife and I counseled together and proposed that I leave this job. We talked it through with our children, and together we said, “It’s time for us to make a change.”
When I quit, I plummeted from senior vice president to unemployed. It took nearly a year to find and accept another job. When I finally took a position with a small real estate company in the United States, I felt good about it. This job would let me dedicate more time to the things that really mattered.
But other people told me I was crazy. Why leave a stable job for a real estate company no one has even heard of? And move halfway across the world to the United States?
They were right that this was a huge change we were choosing to make. But they were wrong that it was a poor choice.
It took a lot of faith for us to switch jobs and move to a new country, but the Lord took care of us. And I had more time to fulfill my responsibilities as a husband, father, and ward member.

Liz: When I was growing up, the closest Church member my age lived an hour and a half away, so there were no other members at school. But something I really appreciated was that even though there was just me, my leaders always came to Mutual; they always came to seminary; they always came to teach my lesson—every single time. They never said, “Well, we’ve got just one student so we’re not going to have class today.” I’m sure I learned a lot, but what I really remember is that my leaders were consistent. And because of them, I had opportunities to feel the Spirit.
I think we can never fully appreciate the gift of the Holy Ghost. Even though I had my parents and my family and my leaders, when I was at school I was by myself. But the Spirit was with me. So whatever keeps the Spirit in someone’s life will be a great influence in helping that person keep the law of chastity.

It was fire drill day at a Logan, Utah, elementary school, and fire drill captain Joe Cook, a stalwart sixth-grade student leader, was determined to post a good time. He was pleased when, at the ringing of the alarm, students began to evacuate the building rapidly. “This will be record-setting time,” young Joe thought. “We’re going to go down in history.” Then just as fame seemed within his grasp, Joe heard the announcement: “Someone is still in the building. The building is not clear.”
As record-breaking time ebbed away, Joe Cook finally saw one lone first-grader emerge from the building. It was his little brother, Quentin! Joe had been denied his rightful place in Cache Valley history by his own flesh and blood!
Fuming, Joe barked, “What on earth were you doing?”
Quentin held up a pair of large, worn boots and said, “Joe, you know that [and he mentioned a friend’s name] sometimes has to wear hand-me-down shoes that are too big for him. When the fire drill rang, he took off running and ran right out of these. He didn’t want to ruin the drill, so he left them and ran outside barefoot. I went back to get his boots for him because I didn’t want his feet to be cold in the snow.”
Such a tender story reveals how committed Elder Quentin La Mar Cook has been from his youth onward to matters of the heart and to the principles taught by the Savior. “I have known Quentin all my life,” says childhood friend and future missionary companion Lee Burke, “and he has never done anything that would dishonor himself, his family, or his Church.” That the Lord knew the destiny of this young man was obvious to his beloved mother, Bernice, when her patriarchal blessing revealed that her sons “would bring honor” to the family and “be mighty in forwarding the work of the Lord.” So those sons have done, and so Elder Quentin L. Cook will continue to do in his call as an Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ.

During my senior year in high school, I realized that I wouldn’t be seeing my family very much. With homecoming activities, honors classes, and my job, the hours I spent at home were few and far between. In the mornings I would kneel with the family for prayer. Then with a quick amen and hugs all around, I’d rush out the door to the bus. A foil-covered dinner would greet me each evening when I arrived home late. The rest of the family was asleep, so a textbook propped up against my glass of milk was my only company as I ate.
Later, I’d tiptoe upstairs and whisper good night to my sleeping parents. Mama would prop up a little on her elbow, “How was your day?”
“Fine.” The standard answer, but one they accepted.
I’d feel my way down the hall into the dark bedroom where my five other sisters slept. I always made sure I kissed them each on their cheeks and whispered, “I love you.” I wonder if my words ever entered their dreams. Then, setting my alarm clock, I’d say my prayers and crawl into bed.
Life continued like this for several months. I was just too busy.
Then one morning I was awakened by a flashlight shining directly into my eyes. Startled and peering past the bright beam, I was surprised to see my Papa clad in pajamas and robe with a big grin on his face.
“What time is it?” I asked, yawning.
“4:00 A.M.,” said Papa, his face never losing the grin.
“You’re kidding. Is something wrong?”
“No,” he said, “follow me.”
I crawled out of bed and sleepily followed him downstairs. As I rounded the corner, I was surprised to see the living room light on and a small table pulled up to the couch. On the table were two dishes of ice cream with chocolate cookies stuck in the top. It looked very inviting.
“What’s this?” I asked incredulously.
“Have a seat,” Papa said. He took me over to the couch and sat me down. “All right, let’s talk.”
“Papa, you’re kidding. No one gets up just to talk and eat ice cream at this hour.”
“I know, but I haven’t seen you for a while, and I wanted to know how things are going in your life.” He hugged me and handed me some ice cream.
As we ate, we talked, really talked, for the first time in many weeks. Papa wanted to know about everything: How’s school? Work? Grades? Are you okay for money? Do you have a boyfriend? Are you healthy? How are you doing spiritually?
One by one I answered his questions, told him my concerns, and asked for advice. My heart thrived on the love I felt from him. With 10 other children in the family, how could he possibly care so much about my life? But he did. Momentarily all the bills, work, Church callings, and the interests of a dozen other people he had to care for were forgotten. He was concerned about me. On that couch, side by side, giggling, laughing, and sharing the deepest feelings and thoughts within us, we passed the early morning hours. We talked long after the ice cream was gone.
It has been many years since that morning. I don’t live at home anymore, and now it’s normal not to see Papa or the family for a few weeks or months. But that four o’clock morning is engraved on my soul, a memory sweeter than ice cream. That morning I really knew someone cared—my father.
Many times since then, when life gets rough, I have been awake at 4:00 A.M., wishing for someone to talk to, wishing for someone who cared enough to ask me those questions. Papa cannot drive the many miles to shine a flashlight in my face. And most people are too practical to serve up ice cream at four in the morning.
However, even when my papa isn’t there, I know from his example of another Father who also watches over his daughters and his sons. A Father who is willing to listen about school, about problems, about life; one who knows us so well that He can see into and feel our hearts; a Father who understands perfectly the world we are facing, our fears and hopes, and asks all the right questions.
That morning reminds me of Heavenly Father, a Father who is omniscient and omnipresent. This Father, too, is always willing to talk, no matter what time it is. And that’s even better than 4:00 A.M. ice cream.

While I was teaching early-morning seminary in Eureka, California, USA, I asked my students to think of themselves 10 years in the future. Then I asked them to write a letter with their testimony of the gospel and whatever else they would like to share with the older versions of themselves. I told them I would mail the letters in 10 years.
Time passed and I never got around to mailing the letters. One day 25 years later, my daughter Heidi found the letters and asked about them. After I explained what I had planned, she looked for the addresses of my former students using social media tools.
After she mailed the letters, we received some great responses. One of my former seminary students wrote:
“I need your dad to know that he just now found those letters for a reason. My 18-year-old daughter has been struggling with her testimony and feeling that being a ‘perfect Latter-day Saint girl’ isn’t for her. She doesn’t share her feelings with us. It’s been hard.”
My former student, devastated by some things her daughter had recently written in a blog, added:
“I knew I had to talk to her about it. As usual, when we have these conversations, her face was stony and defiant, and she didn’t say anything. I handed her my letter and told her I wanted her to read it.
“I saw her reread the first paragraph several times. I had written that I didn’t know if I had a testimony, that being a perfect Latter-day Saint was a lot and maybe not for me.
“My daughter started to cry. I needed her to know that I truly understand her struggles. She would never have believed it without that letter! Some of her wall has come down, and I truly feel like the timing of this letter was a tender mercy. If I had received it 10 years ago, I might have thrown it away or lost it! Please thank your dad for having us write the letters and for misplacing them for all these years! Nothing is a coincidence.”
Our loving Heavenly Father watches over all His sheep, and in His marvelous timing, He can work tender mercies and miracles through each of us to bring those who have wandered back to the fold.

In a few days we will dedicate the beautiful Denver Temple.

When it was announced that we would build a temple in that city and had selected a site on which it should stand, opposition rose against us. We gave up that site and tried another. Again we were thwarted. But we were determined to go forward, putting our trust in the Lord that He would guide us in accomplishing His purposes. Two other possible sites were selected. At the time, President Kimball and President Romney were both ill, and mine was a serious responsibility. I asked President Benson, then President of the Council of the Twelve, if we might go to Denver together, and there with Elder Russell Taylor we looked over these sites. I give you my testimony that we were guided by the Spirit in choosing the ground on which that beautiful new structure now stands. It will be dedicated later this month as a house of God.

I recall an event described by a man I met at a stake conference in the Midwest more than a decade ago. The setting was a beautiful campus in central Illinois. My informant, a participant in a summer workshop, saw a crowd of young students seated on the grass in a large semicircle about 20 feet from one of the large hardwood trees that are so common and so beautiful there. They were watching something at the base of the tree. He turned aside from his walk to see what it was.
There was a handsome tree squirrel with a large, bushy tail playing around the base of the tree—now on the ground, now up and down and around the trunk. But why would that beautiful but familiar sight attract a crowd of students?
Stretched out prone on the grass nearby was an Irish setter. He was the object of the students’ interest, and, though he pretended otherwise, the squirrel was the object of his. Each time the squirrel was momentarily out of sight circling the tree or looking in another direction, the setter would quickly creep forward a few inches and then resume his apparent indifferent posture. Each minute or two he crept closer to the squirrel, and the squirrel apparently did not notice. This was the scene that held the students’ interest. They were silent and immobile, attention riveted on the drama—the probable outcome of which was becoming increasingly obvious.
Finally the setter was close enough to bound at the squirrel and catch it in his mouth. A gasp of horror arose, and the crowd of students surged forward and wrested the beautiful little animal away from the hound, but it was too late. The squirrel was dead.
Anyone in that crowd of students could have warned the squirrel at any time by waving their arms or crying out, but none had done so. They just watched while the inevitable consequence got closer and closer. No one asked “Where will this lead?” and no one wished to interfere. When the predictable outcome occurred, they rushed to the defense, but it was too late. Tearful and regretful expressions were all they could offer.

One day a man came to the office and said that he was a painter. My father agreed to pay the man to paint our barn. Father called and told the owner of the paint store to give the man some paint, and Father would pay for it.

The man painted the barn and left town. Later the paint store owner called and told Father that the man had taken too much paint for one barn. I guess he intended to sell the extra paint to someone else and make more money. Father didn’t become angry or upset. He said, “Well, we have our painted barn, and somewhere that man knows that there is someone who was willing to believe in him.” My father could always sleep at night because his conscience was clear.

Eleven years later, in November 1991, I was sitting in my office at work and suddenly felt a strong feeling of peace and love. The impression came to me that someone had died, but I could not think of who it might be. I called my wife, Susan, at home and asked if everything was all right. She reassured me, but I still felt the same way.
That evening, I felt impressed to pick up one of my journals. I turned to the pages where I had recorded my experiences in Ormoc. As I read, the Spirit grew stronger and tears came into my eyes. I thought of the wonderful people I had seen embrace the gospel there. Could it be that these strong feelings of comfort were related to my Ormoc experience?
Later that month I read of a devastating typhoon that had hit Ormoc. Twenty-two members of the Church had died in the flooding. Among them were Brother and Sister Ygonia and their grandson Allan. I also saw the names of other people I had known while serving in Ormoc. Again the familiar warmth and peace of the Comforter entered my heart, and I understood why I had felt its influence earlier.
While I grieved over their deaths, I knew they had returned to our Heavenly Father’s presence, where they continue in the work they began here on earth.

When Henry and Mary entered Salt Lake City on September 15, 1866, it had been more than four years since they had seen their mother. Henry walked proudly at the head of the train, his clothes in tatters, his hair sticking out in all directions. In honor of the occasion, he was wearing a pair of boots, many sizes too large, that he had discovered in a burned-out pony express station.
His mother was nowhere to be seen. When the company halted for the last time, Henry sat on a crate in a wagon, heartsick, watching the happy reunions between loved ones. At last he saw a woman in a red and white plaid shawl approaching. He went to her and said, “Hey, Mother.”
“Is that you, Henry?” she asked. “Where is Mary?” Mary was hiding inside a wagon, ashamed of her ragged clothing. The family was finally reunited. However, there was sad news. During her journey to Utah, Sister Roberts had watched her baby, Thomas, weaken and die. She had buried him in a donated breadbox coffin along the way.

I served as president of the Fiji Suva Mission. One day on the island of Kiribati I was walking with two elders when a man came up to us. He was drunk. I wanted to chase him off, but he saw my name tag and called me by name. “President Tefan, I would like you and your missionaries to come to dinner at my home.”
I thought, “Uh-oh, maybe he doesn’t know what he’s doing.” I turned to the elders and asked, “How do you feel? Would you like to accept the invitation?” They said that they would like to go. I felt impressed to accept his offer.
The following night we all had a nice Chinese dinner—chicken, fish, other meats, and noodles. The missionaries were happy because it was a change from their daily menu of fish and rice. At the end of the dinner, I thanked the man and said, “Now I have a gift I would like to offer you. Would you like these missionaries to teach you the gospel of Jesus Christ?”
He said he wasn’t interested but the missionaries could teach his wife and 18-year-old son. Three months later the 18-year-old son was baptized. One year later the wife was baptized, and her husband started attending church. He asked me for a blessing to help him stop smoking and drinking, and he was able to quit. The last time I visited that family, the son had been admitted to Brigham Young University–Hawaii on a full-tuition scholarship and had also received a mission call to Hong Kong.
When I think back on my experience with that family, I’m glad that I didn’t chase the “drunk man” away but instead followed the prompting of the Spirit to accept the dinner invitation, open my mouth, and ask him to hear the gospel.

I fell in gym class at school and hit my head on the floor. My head hurt really bad, and my stomach was upset. I also felt weird and very tired. When my dad got home from work, he gave me a priesthood blessing. After the blessing I wasn’t scared anymore. My mom and dad took me to the emergency room, and the doctor said I had a concussion.
Five days later my mom took me to the doctor again. This time they rushed me to a children’s hospital. It turned out that I had fractured my skull and had a bleeding artery in my brain that caused two blood clots. The doctors were really surprised that I was doing so well. I know it was because of the blessing my dad gave me. I stayed in the hospital for three days. When I got home, the bishopric came and gave me another blessing. A lot of people prayed for me. Within weeks the blood clots were gone, and I made a full recovery.
I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ know me and love me, and I look forward to the day when I can hold the priesthood.Matthew Nielsen, age 7, Aurora, Illinois

When I was just two years old, my older brother and I were walking near a large irrigation ditch on our farm. My father was keeping an eye on us as he fed the cattle. The next thing he knew, my brother was running up to him, crying out, “Rolfe’s in!”
Dad raced to the irrigation ditch. From my footprints, he could see that I had gone as close to the edge as I possibly could, and then my feet had slipped and I had fallen in. He ran along the ditch until he glimpsed my red sweater in the water. He was able to pull me out, apply first aid, and save my life. I had gotten as close to danger as I possibly could, and the results were almost tragic.

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.

You recall the Prophet Joseph Smith’s experience with darkness and light in the Sacred Grove. President Lorenzo Snow (1814–1901) wrote of an experience of his own:

“Some two or three weeks after I was baptized … I began to reflect upon the fact that I had not obtained a knowledge of the truth of the work … , and I began to feel very uneasy. I laid aside my books, left the house, and wandered around through the fields under the oppressive influence of a gloomy, disconsolate spirit, while an indescribable cloud of darkness seemed to envelop me. I had been accustomed, at the close of the day, to retire for secret prayer, to a grove a short distance from my lodgings, but at this time I felt no inclination to do so. The spirit of prayer had departed and the heavens seemed like brass over my head. At length, realizing that the usual time had come for secret prayer, I concluded I would not forego my evening service, and, as a matter of formality, knelt as I was in the habit of doing, and in my accustomed retired place, but not feeling as I was wont to feel.

“I had no sooner opened my lips in an effort to pray, than I heard a sound, just above my head, like the rustling of silken robes, and immediately the Spirit of God descended upon me, completely enveloping my whole person, filling me, from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, and O, the joy and happiness I felt! No language can describe the almost instantaneous transition from a dense cloud of mental and spiritual darkness into a refulgence of light and knowledge, as it was at that time imparted to my understanding. I then received a perfect knowledge that God lives, that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and of the restoration of the holy Priesthood, and the fulness of the Gospel. …

“… That night, as I retired to rest, the same wonderful manifestations were repeated, and continued to be for several successive nights. The sweet remembrance of those glorious experiences, from that time to the present, bring them fresh before me, imparting an inspiring influence which pervades my whole being, and I trust will to the close of my earthly existence.”

Claudia Laur, a Mia Maid in the Munich Third Ward, Munich Germany Stake, realized there were many activities in the ward for the young ladies but not many for the elderly sisters. Because she felt that particularly those who lived alone might not be benefiting from the same warmth of fellowship, she gathered the Mia Maids and Beehives together and planned an afternoon for the older sisters in the ward. The Merrie Miss Primary class was also invited to participate.
At a planning meeting, a program was outlined, including a difficult-to-learn round dance, a medley of favorite songs from the 50s, self-composed sketches and pantomimes, question-and-answer games in which the older sisters would participate, comedy, hymns (to add a spiritual side to the activity), and of course, refreshments.
Soon they had polished their routines, choreographed their steps, rehearsed their lines, and prepared their props. On the day of the gathering, decorations transformed the cultural hall into a cozy “Café in the Woods,” a comfortable setting for the older ladies to relax in while they enjoyed the show.
“We had a delightful afternoon,” one of the invited guests said. “They welcomed us warmly and escorted us to our tables, which were decorated with flowers and a nice little personal card. Their happy program put us in a joyful mood. We couldn’t help but feel that they served with love. It helped us to feel the unity that can come to sisters in the Church.”
Beehive Andrea Klein agreed: “It was really nice to see the older sisters so happy about such little things. The preparation and practices took a lot of time and required patience and effort, but it was well worth it.”

Growing up, Matthew attended church in small branches. He and his wife, a convert from Ukraine, grew accustomed to multiple callings and full engagement with international LDS communities but then moved to the United States. Large wards and different cultural expectations made them feel “unneeded and adrift,” he recalls. “We seemed unable to fit in. We felt ignored, with a lack of uplift and connection on Sundays.”
Their frustration reached a breaking point when, after moving to a different city, Matthew and his wife looked forward to a visit from a local priesthood leader whose purpose in visiting ended up being to ask them to keep their lively toddler under control during sacrament meeting. Deeply hurt, Matthew contemplated never returning to the local meetinghouse. “What stopped me,” he explains, “was my testimony that this is the Lord’s Church and that the Savior wants me there. Participating in the gospel has consequences beyond any hurt or personal encounter I’ll have in this life.”
Matthew found this reliance on the divine crucial to staying active in the Church. “The only thing that’s kept me going sometimes is my testimony of Christ,” he explains. “The gospel is bigger than any of us. Christ sees what we cannot see, knows what we can become, and has room for all.”

This story took place in the USA.
It’s too hot. I think I’m going to melt!
Don’t worry, we’re almost there.
The wind feels nice.
This is much better!
Grandma, do you love Jesus?
Yes! I love Jesus a lot.
Me too. I just wish I could see Him. Then I’d know He’s real.
Oh sweetheart, Jesus is very real. He’s a real person, like you and me.
But how do you know? Have you seen Jesus?
No. But I feel Him every day.
Do you remember the wind we felt while we were walking?
It felt so good! I was really hot, but the wind was cool.
We can’t see the wind. But we can feel it. And even if we haven’t seen Jesus, we can still feel His love.
How can we feel Him?
I feel His love when I look at His beautiful creations. I see His love in the flowers.
I see His love in the rivers He created.
And I see His love when I look at you!
Can I help you look for Jesus again tomorrow?
Of course!
Illustrations by Pauline Gregory