Gospel Story Finder

I know how you feel. In my school, the children think that I am strange and that I am “too” good because I never swear or do inappropriate things. I felt very much alone, but I made friends with some girls who have good hearts, although they are not members of the Church. Today, whenever students need help with something, they come to me because they know that I am a member of the Church, that I would never lie, and that they can trust me.Ester K., 11, Itatiba, Brazil

As a bishop of a student ward adjacent to the University of Utah campus about 18 years ago, I tried vainly to hold a young marriage together. The wife had been unfaithful, and as I sought to help and to understand, I learned that as a child this woman had had an adulterous father. Though unjustified, she acted out her feelings about men. What she then did was not love. Several years after my release as bishop, I saw a story in the local paper about her having been picked up for prostitution. I know not where she is today, but I cannot put out of my mind the words of Jacob, who decried unfaithful fathers who had lost the confidence of their children because of their bad examples (see Jacob 2:35).

Karoly Takacs, a Hungarian, was recognized as the best pistol shot in the world. More than anything he wanted to win in the Olympics. But one day driving home, Takacs was in a car crash, and doctors had to amputate his right arm—his shooting arm.
Takacs’ recovery was slow. It wasn’t a physical challenge, but an emotional one. He had reached the lowest feeling of despair. People wanted to help but there was little they could do. Takacs began to avoid his friends; even his family didn’t know where he spent his time. But Karoly Takacs was preparing. In solitude he had trained his left arm and his aiming eye, a training that’s far more of an intellectual mastery than most people realize. By the next Olympics, Takacs was ready.
When the pistol event was over, this one-armed Hungarian stood, the cheers rising about him, on the topmost step of the winner’s platform with a gold medal around his neck.
Takacs showed us something more than his ability to shoot. He proved that human beings have a largely untapped recovery capacity. He discovered for himself the exciting fact that experiencing the deepest feeling of despair does not mean defeat, but that it just signals the end of downward movement. As one friend told me, “The bottom can be something to bounce on.”

Take me for example. I’d had LDS friends since I was 13, and I eventually joined the Church when I was 19. But despite learning a lot about Church culture over those years, I had a hard transition. To me, the Church culture and practices were so different that they seemed kind of weird.
I grew up in a church that in many ways is quite unlike the one you know or are coming to know. At church the ministers and choir wore robes similar to high school graduation robes. During worship service—their equivalent of sacrament meeting—the ministers gave sermons and did all the talking. Every Sunday we all repeated the Lord’s Prayer in unison and always sang the hymn “Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow.” Babies were baptized by having water sprinkled on their heads, but confirmation happened at around 14 years old.
We used grape juice instead of water for the sacrament, and high school kids attended Sunday School with the adults in a class that talked about current issues in society.
Even our building was different from the LDS buildings I had visited. We had a large chapel modeled after Christian churches in Europe, with a high peaked roof and tall, stained-glass windows. There was a cross in the choir loft. A beautiful, tall bell tower stood out front. I loved ringing that bell after church services. It was heavy enough that it could lift a small child off the ground as the rope went up and down.
Our customs and social beliefs were different too. We were taught that it was OK to drink alcohol or smoke. Having a boyfriend or girlfriend as a teenager was OK. In fact, we were taught that you could even have sexual relations before marriage as long as you believed you were in love. We never talked about having a testimony. The first time I saw a fast and testimony meeting—wow! I couldn’t believe how odd that seemed. No one ever stood to share their beliefs like that in my church.
Coming to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints wasn’t just about learning new doctrines, such as the premortal life and baptism for the dead; it was a change in culture and lifestyle and expectations. Resolving those differences was a hard road to walk.
The first six months after my baptism were really hard. I almost didn’t make it. Everything was so different, especially because I was attending church without my family. I still struggled with certain doctrinal points, as well as feelings of being estranged from my past.
Fortunately, my friends in the Church were patient, kind, and constant. They took me to activities, invited me to their homes for dinner and family home evening, and prayed with me. That made a huge difference not just in my joining the Church but also in my staying active and finding strength when my testimony wavered. I owe a lot to them for helping me figure things out.

My friend Tammy stopped attending church when she was just 15 years old. Around the corner from Tammy lived a young man who also decided in his mid-teens that he didn’t want to be part of the Church. They both developed habits that took them further away from Church activity. Eventually, they married and began to raise a family.
Tammy loved her husband and her two daughters very much, but deep in her heart bubbled a longing to go back to the life she had known as a child. She faintly remembered feeling her Heavenly Father’s Spirit and influence with her, and she missed Him. Reluctant to share these thoughts with her husband for fear he would not approve, she kept them hidden. She wanted to come back, but she just didn’t know how to begin. Let’s listen to her own words as she tells the ripple effect of two wonderful visiting teachers who “[drew] water [from] the wells of salvation” and shared it with Tammy.
[Video transcript of Tammy Clayton]
I’m grateful to this day for my visiting teachers because they loved me and they didn’t judge me. They really made me feel as though I really was important and that I did have a place in the Church.
They’d come over to my home and we would sit and we’d visit. After a while, they’d ask me if I wanted a lesson, and they would leave me a message each month.
And when they came every month, it made me feel as if I really did matter and as though they really did care about me and as though they really loved me and appreciated me.
Through their visiting and coming to see us, I decided that it was time for me to go back to church. I guess I just really didn’t know how to come back, and by their coming and reaching out to me, they provided a way that I could return.
We need to realize that the Lord loves us no matter who we are, and my visiting teachers helped me see that this was right.
Now my husband and I have been sealed in the temple.

I would like to share with you a personal experience that I had while serving as an Area Seventy years ago. When I was called by the Area President, he asked me how my German was. I told him that I could order a schnitzel.

He said that was nice—I would not go hungry—but then invited me to read the Book of Mormon in German. And that is what I did between receiving the call in December and being sustained during the April conference.

Shortly after, I started my service in the Europe Area and received a phone call asking if I would be ready to visit a district conference on short notice. I told our Area President that I could do that. Then he told me that the district was located in the eastern part of Germany where they do not speak any English. He said there will be no one to translate for you. He quickly ended the phone call before I could change my mind.

The worst part was that I needed to call the district president to discuss the conference. Marjan prepared the computer with Google Translate for me, and I knelt down and pleaded with the Lord to help me. Well, we had an hour-long conversation in German, and Marjan and our youngest son, Hyrum, were amazed.

A week later, we traveled to the Erfurt District and held all the meetings in German. On Sunday, my nephew, who was serving a mission there, joined the congregation. He later told me that it went well but that I made one big mistake. I thought I asked the parents to testify to their children, but instead, I asked the parents to make more children. I used Gezeugen instead of bezeugen. As good, faithful Germans, they kept straight faces.

Well, I hope to return there someday; they might have a stake.

On several occasions, I have received a testimony of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. And not only about the cleansing part—but also that we can receive power that enables us to do what we could never imagine doing.
I have felt that power time and time again in my life, and especially when I am out of my comfort zone.

Years before, I had gone through a similar trial of my faith when I prayed for my mom to get better. She was on oxygen all the time and was too weak to even walk around the house. I prayed and hoped and prayed some more that she would miraculously be healed. However, she wasn’t. After she died, I learned that we can pray for what we want all that we want to, but we need to pray for the right things—praying that the Lord’s will be done—to have our prayers answered.

Trying to write a message to the world caused some serious contemplation. For some of the girls it was not easy. The words were put on paper only after prayer and thought. Beth Story of the California Saratoga Stake said, “I don’t really know how I came to write what I did. After I found out I would be writing to a stranger about how I felt about the Church, I prayed. I really had a desire to write something that a person would pay attention to if he found it.” Jennifer Bezzant, a Beehive from Rigby, Idaho, also tells of the time she spent before writing her message. “I was really unsure as to what to write. No thought seemed to come. The Sunday came when we were to write our messages down in church, and I still hadn’t thought of anything. I was getting desperate. My Young Women president let me take my card home to pray about it over the week. On Tuesday of that week, when I knelt by my bed, I asked Heavenly Father to help me write a suitable message that would help someone. As I got up from my knees, I felt impressed to get my pen and write. The words just seemed to come, and I kept writing until I was finished. When I read over what I had written, I was surprised. It sounded so good, I couldn’t believe I wrote those words.” Heather Thompson of Rexburg, Idaho, also caught the vision of the broader purpose for the balloon event. She found that the thought she invested as she prepared her message was valuable even if no one ever received the copy sent aloft. Heather said, “I feel as if I wrote my message, not only to the finder of my balloon but to myself and my Heavenly Father.”
Young Women in some areas of the world were in situations that did not allow them to release balloons. Many of them sent their messages to Church headquarters, where they were distributed to girls in stakes that were holding balloon events. Shawna Bowcutt was one who asked that someone release her message for her. She wrote, “I live in Kinshasa, Zaire, and our branch has not yet been organized, so I am including my message in this envelope for someone to send up for me. I am one of two Young Women in our branch. Thank you for including me in this event.”
Five Young Women in Egypt put into action an alternate plan. It was inappropriate for them to release helium-filled balloons, so their adviser planned an excursion. They drove through a tunnel under the Suez Canal to the tip of the Sinai. There, following a sunrise service, the girls snorkeled over the edge of the reef and released their messages sealed in bottles into the ocean currents.
In many locations the most touching moment came when the signal was given and the balloons were released. As the balloons rose in unison, a shout of joy sent them on their way. Then it was quiet, but girls’ faces, some streaming with tears, were still upturned watching for as long as they could follow their balloons.
Andrea Smith from the California Saratoga Stake remembers that moment at Coit Tower in San Francisco. “As we let go of the balloons, I think everyone gasped. It was a beautiful sight, and I was overwhelmed with the thought of the wonderful testimonies and messages of the girls.”
Marilee Griffeth was one of 2,000 gathered in Rexburg, Idaho. She shouted with the rest as the balloons were released. “I felt a warm glow when the words were spoken, ‘Girls, release your balloons.’ A part of me rose with that balloon so that I shall never forget that day.”
Lance Wickman, the stake president of the Poway California Stake, wrote, “We watched, transfixed, as the balloons floated steadily heavenward until they disappeared into the clouds still gathered overhead. I cannot express the feeling that I felt—that we all felt—at that moment.”
The balloons made their journeys, and much like the parable in the scriptures, some seeds fell on fertile ground. A message written by Laura West in the Salt Lake Cottonwood Height Stake was found by one who desperately needed her encouragement. Laura had written, in part, “Keep your hopes up and rise like the balloon. Always have faith in Christ and Christ will have faith in you.” Her balloon was found only a couple of miles from where it was released. The man who found it wrote to Laura that he was a member of the Church but had fallen away 18 years earlier while he was in his teens. He told of his struggle to be reunited with his wife and children and the decision he made to come back to the Church. He wrote, “I’ve been reading the Book of Mormon and praying since Sunday night (the day after I got your letter). I went to the bishop of my ward that night and told him I knew it was time for me to straighten out my life. … If only you could feel the peace and tranquility that has come to me since I began the reading and prayer. It’s truly like the difference between night and day. To top off my own feelings that I’m on the right track, I picked up your letter. You said you hoped your letter would brighten my day. It not only brightened my day, it was a godsend! I will remember your letter forever.” He signed it “Your friend you’ve never met” and his name.
All the messages in the balloons were good seeds. Even though every balloon was not discovered and appreciated by someone, the messages still took root where they could be nurtured and cherished. Each message took root in the heart of the girl who wrote it. As Tahneam Merrill of Rexburg, Idaho, said, “I can sincerely say my testimony soared higher and farther than my balloon could ever travel. My message may not be received by anyone, but it was received by me.”

Many years ago when I was a retail executive, we had a night watchman in one of our stores whose teenage daughter had just joined our church. He would often comment on the change that had occurred in the life of his daughter. Her baptism had brought a new spirit into their home. I was attempting to use this event as a base to teach him the gospel.
One evening as I was leaving the store, he was by the exit checking out the late customers who had completed their purchases after the store had closed. I stopped for a minute to visit with him. He immediately commenced to tell me about his daughter. He said, “You know, she just radiates since she joined your church.”
I proceeded to tell him that having a trust in the Lord and conforming our life to the gospel plan does make a change, even in our countenance. Just at that time I noticed two ladies approaching the door with several other customers. They were neatly dressed, and their faces reflected a special glow. As if my eyes were directed, I immediately noticed a “Duty to God” pin on one of the lady’s dresses, which many of our fine young men present to their mothers after achieving this special award. I turned to my friend and said, “Look at those two ladies coming towards the door. They have a different look. They, too, are members of our church.”
He was so caught up in my remark that he rushed over to them and asked, “Are you Mormons?” After confirming this fact, he returned to me shaking his head and saying, “You know, you can tell the difference.” I agree with him. There is a difference in those “who trust in the Lord and do good.”

Parañaque City, near Manila, was hit by Tropical Storm Ketsana in late September. At the height of the storm, the bishop of one of the four local wards floated across neck-deep floodwaters on a Styrofoam cooler lid to help evacuate three families. The next day sacrament meeting was canceled; however, many members of the affected ward, though dealing with the effects of the storm themselves, met at the meetinghouse in pajamas, shorts, and jackets, carrying food and clothes to be given to those in need. In about two hours, all the families in the ward were visited, checked on, and helped.
Then, only two nights after many of them had been wading through the wreckage of their own villages, members from the Parañaque area gathered at their local meetinghouse and assembled 26 bags of clothing, which they had donated, all sorted and individually packaged.
“It was one of the most memorable home evenings for many families in our ward,” said Bishop Franco Advincula.
A sister from a family in need called the bishop to ask when they could give their contributions. “I was stunned, and I couldn’t find the right words,” said Bishop Advincula. “However, I was inspired that I should not deny this good sister the opportunity to help.”

During my first year as an early-morning seminary teacher, I taught the freshman class and felt a need to show interest in the students by attending as many school activities as I could. If my students were involved with sports, music, or drama, I tried to be there to see them perform. A number of the young men in my class were members of the freshman football team. My job allowed me the freedom to attend their games on Thursday afternoons, and I looked forward to this because I love to watch football.
As is the case with most football teams, there are standout players that have that special something that sets them apart from the rest of the team. I hadn’t watched very many games before I noticed one such player, number 23. He was a running back who could break at least one big run per game. He didn’t appear to be fast or flashy. In fact, he ran with a sloppy kind of gait, arms and legs going every which way. But when this deceiving runner would break loose on a long gainer, he would slowly pull away from defenders no matter how perfect their running form might be. His main function on the team was that of a workhorse. Through sheer determination and will power, he would grind out a yard or two at a time. Inevitably he would shake loose from a tackle and get a step or two into the secondary. When this happened, he was good for at least 30 yards or more.
The father of number 23 was at every game. He would walk up and down behind the small crowd on the sideline and offer bits of encouragement. He had an extremely deep, raspy, commanding voice. He wore the clothes of a working man, soiled by working with the land. He wore boots, jeans, and an old cowboy hat pulled down over his eyes. He was a big, strong man with a full moustache that drooped just slightly over each side of his mouth. Rumor had it that he had played football and had been drafted by the pros years ago. His comments were always directed toward the team as if it were a single entity. He never singled out any one player or players. His actions never gave a hint that this giant of a man was the father of number 23. Somehow you knew he felt the disappointments and the hardships of the entire team as they struggled during difficult games. And he, too, shared the feeling of triumph gained from a hard-fought drive that would result in a touchdown. All of this he did with a restrained dignity.
The team played well through the season and toward the end were excited that they could finish the year with a winning record if they could pull out the last two games. Our next game was a defensive struggle with very little yardage gained by either team. Toward the end of the fourth quarter, the other team scored a touchdown and extra point to go ahead 7 to 3. Time continued to tick away. Our team, with the ball on their own 25-yard line, had only a short time left in the game. The situation looked hopeless. I had to leave and reluctantly I started slowly walking around the track toward the gate on the other side of the field. I stopped to watch each play as the team attempted to move the ball. Each attempt was as frustrating as the rest of the game had been. They tried a long pass that was incomplete. Then a running play that was stopped. I reached the gate and was about to leave and turned to watch one more play. The quarterback dropped back and threw a short swing pass to number 23. Immediately four players converged on him, and I turned to leave thinking to myself, “They’ll have to punt and that’s the old ball game.” Suddenly a roar erupted, and I wheeled around just in time to see number 23 shaking off the last tackle. He was heading for the goal line. He broke to the outside and was running along the sideline closest to his team’s side of the field. He was outrunning everyone, everyone except his father, who was matching him step for step out on the track. With his cowboy hat in his hand, he was making giant circles above his head and yelling war whoops that could be heard over the roar of the crowd. The sight of those two running together sent chills of joy down my spine.
Our team won 10 to 7, not an earth-shattering event. It was an obscure football game played by high school freshmen; a short span of time on a Thursday afternoon; a small event but one that produced a moment of “lump-in-the-throat” excitement. But I realized that I had seen something outstanding. I witnessed the flash of joy that the father felt, or for that matter any parent feels, when seeing the success of a child. Sometimes when I see a young person break free from the entanglements of sin or discouragement, I wonder if our Heavenly Father feels that same joy and pride.

Illustration by Bradley Clark
I had been home from my mission for only three months when I began to struggle with reading the scriptures.
I had read the scriptures every day on my mission and promised to continue when I returned home. But as time passed, things just seemed to get in the way. I either had too much homework, was too busy working, or was just too tired. With each excuse, my scripture reading dwindled until I was hardly reading at all.
I opened the Book of Mormon one night and planned on reading just a verse. The verse I read reminded me that the scriptures contain “the pleasing word of God, yea, the word which healeth the wounded soul” (Jacob 2:8).
I pondered this verse and realized the negative effect neglecting scripture study was having on me. I felt more stressed at school, more apathetic at church, and more distanced from God. My soul needed the healing word of God found in the scriptures. I knew I needed to reorganize my priorities.
I turned to my friends, family, and Church leaders to ask for suggestions to rejuvenate my scripture study. I found three things to be helpful.
First, I realized that studying the scriptures at night was not effective for me. Studying in the morning allowed me to ponder throughout the day the doctrine and principles I had read that morning.
Second, we are taught to read scriptures with our families, but since I was at college and away from my family, I started reading scriptures with roommates and friends. This helped me stay accountable, and it sparked great gospel discussions.
Third, I started writing down promptings and thoughts I received during scripture study. This helped me focus on what I was reading and helped me better recognize the voice of the Spirit.
Once scripture study became a priority in my life again, I found that I had more time and energy to accomplish everything I needed to get done. Most important, I felt a closeness to God again as I read and pondered the scriptures. Now when I spend time in the scriptures, I feel peace and find healing for my soul.

As I stand here before you at this moment, I cannot help but think back to the day when I, as an investigator of the Church, was confronted with the missionaries’ challenge to prepare for my baptism. This step seemed to be too big for me to take, but because I already had a testimony burning within me of the truthfulness of this work, I knew that withstanding baptism would take away my right to speak to my Father in Heaven again in prayer.
So I accepted the challenge for baptism, with a fearful heart, but I told the missionaries that I would do it only on two conditions: First, that I would never be called to any Church position, and second, that I would never have to give a talk. Without the loving influence and the power and security of the Holy Ghost, which I received by the laying on of hands after baptism to help me, I could not have done anything in my various Church assignments by myself.
We, as members, have the privilege to bear witness of the restoration of the Church of Jesus Christ through a divinely authorized man, Joseph Smith, in these latter days. As I bore this witness to a man just recently while I was serving as mission president in Germany, I saw that he felt very uneasy about my statement, and he, like so many others, responded with a question: “Don’t we all believe in the same God?” This question hurt me. It always hurts me when I see how many people are so indifferent and show such a lack of awareness in this most vital question in man’s life: Can I find thee, my Father in Heaven?
Yes, one could say that regardless of when, where, and in what circumstances we are raised, we all long for our Heavenly Father and desire after him, because we knew him before we came to this earth. But do we, on this earth, all believe in the same God? No—absolutely not! Men have created, in their use of free agency, all kinds of different interpretations of our Father in Heaven and the purpose of our lives.
In our mortal existence there is no place for an uncertain, indifferent awareness of our responsibility and obligation to decide whom we should follow. Either we must attain a knowledge of our Creator and God, who loves us, who wants to bring peace, dignity, light, and happiness into our lives, or by and by we will forget our divine origin and remain in the foggy mists of the deceiver—the adversary, who cannot stand the fact that we, as living souls, did not accept his plan in our premortal lives.
He is fighting, with all of his knowledge, to lead men astray as they exercise their free agency, that he might make them his slaves. We are witnesses that the fear, hatred, despair, loneliness, and ugliness that people experience in their lives are the fruits of the influence of the adversary. It is obvious that his long-range, ungodly strategy to destroy our ability to truly love and have faith is aimed at these latter days before the second coming of the Savior, when a decision is required of every man.
If we do not decide to search out and accept the truth in the only way authorized by God, with all our might, mind, and strength, even when it means changing our lives completely, we will have built our house on sand. The half-truths of men, often mingled with scripture, are sometimes strong enough to fulfill the expectations of the people for a season or for a generation, but they can neither bring them along the path of exaltation and eternal life nor bring satisfying answers to the demanding problems of mankind in these days.
Receiving and accepting Jesus Christ and his plan of salvation in its fulness and its truth means leaving the world and its earthly desires behind and building Zion around ourselves. When Christ walked the earth to prepare the way for his disciples, standing in purity and bearing testimony of the truth, he was a light in the darkness, and the darkness knew him not (see John 1:5). The darkness organized itself to destroy him. Christ knew that this would happen, not only to him but also to all his true disciples. He said, in speaking to his followers, in Matthew 10:22, “And ye shall be hated of all men for my name’s sake.”
When we really follow Christ in his true restored church, it will be manifested in our lives. The fruit will follow. The Holy Ghost will lead us to make uncomfortable decisions, to develop true love and faith by learning to sacrifice and to discipline ourselves. Our abilities will grow and will bring satisfaction and joy and happiness. Through the instrument of an ongoing communication with our Heavenly Father—a constant prayer in our hearts for direction in the many little decisions in our lives—we feel the softness of the yoke of Christ, as he said in Matthew 11:28, 30:
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. …
“For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
We will be led to live our lives his way and not the world’s way.
The men of the world feel secure with the question “Don’t we all believe in the same God?” The answer to the question is “No.” The deceiver has initiated all kinds of philosophies and religions to lead people astray, to make them feel happy and safe in their man-made rationalizing and wickedness. He wants them to forget that someday we all have to stand in the judgment of Christ and report our deeds and words. The Savior said in Matthew 12:36, “But I say unto you, That every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment.”
We are living in the glorious days of fulfillment eagerly awaited by the prophets of old—Enoch, Isaiah, Daniel, Paul, and many others. In our day the works of the deceiver of all the ages are being revealed by Christ through a living prophet. The disciples of Christ—the Saints of the latter days under the leadership of a living prophet, even Spencer W. Kimball—are taking the offensive to show the world the fruits of righteous living in the gospel of Jesus Christ. We testify with the angels that these are the days of warning for the people of the nations of the world, and that the time is near when it will be too late. We testify with the words of Amulek, a Book of Mormon prophet, recorded in Alma 34:32–33 and 35:
“For behold, this life is the time for men … to perform their labors.
“And now, as I have said unto you before, as ye have had so many witnesses, therefore, I beseech of you that ye do not procrastinate the day of your repentance until the end; …
“For behold, if ye have procrastinated the day of your repentance even until death, behold, ye have become subjected to the spirit of the devil, and he doth seal you his; therefore, the Spirit of the Lord hath withdrawn from you, and hath no place in you, and the devil hath all power over you; and this is the final state of the wicked.”
The saving priesthood powers from above operate only through the principle of the righteousness of men. These powers are working through the innocent and the pure in heart as prophesied since the days of old. Thirty thousand missionaries are sent out to teach with this power, searching for those who are seeking the eternal principles of truth that they have been waiting for during their whole lifetime. Hundreds of thousands of priesthood holders and women witness daily—through their righteous lives, their example, and their testimonies—that they have been sealed by the Holy Ghost with the knowledge that these things are true, that the kingdom of God is in the process of establishment in these days to prepare for the second coming of the Savior.
With great excitement, the disciples of Christ in these last days are learning to accept the word given to the Prophet Joseph Smith in Doctrine & Covenants 58:64:
“For, verily, the sound must go forth from this place into all the world, and unto the uttermost parts of the earth—the gospel must be preached unto every creature, with signs following them that believe.”
This work in these latter days is bringing to pass the prophecy of the prophet Enoch, the seventh from Adam, recorded in the Pearl of Great Price, Moses 7:62:
“And righteousness will I send down out of heaven; and truth will I send forth out of the earth, to bear testimony of mine Only Begotten; his resurrection from the dead; yea, and also the resurrection of all men; and righteousness and truth will I cause to sweep the earth as with a flood, to gather out mine elect from the four quarters of the earth, unto a place which I shall prepare, an Holy City, that my people may gird up their loins, and be looking forth for the time of my coming; for there shall be my tabernacle, and it shall be called Zion, a New Jerusalem.”
My dear brothers and sisters, I bear you my testimony that this is the day of the establishment of the kingdom of Christ on this earth—that nobody will be able to escape the decision to accept God as he really is and not as he has been made to appear according to man-made philosophies. I know that this is the work of the living God, working through a living prophet, Spencer W. Kimball. I say this in humility in the name of our Savior, Jesus Christ, amen.

“Ah, summertime!” Jim said to himself, stretching his lanky arms high above his head as he yawned his best thank-goodness-school’s-out-now-I-can-take-it-easy-I-love-summer-but-I’m-getting-bored-already yawn. He had been on vacation for two days. Most of his friends had left town with their families on vacations or already had summer jobs, and Jim wanted to work, too. But he was worried. He was 17, and that can be a tough age to find employment.
Across town, Tom was knocking on doors, again. He’d been at it not just since 8 A.M., but since March. “How is a 15-year-old supposed to get a job?” he asked himself. “Everyone I talk to tells me they have to give the work to the older kids. What am I supposed to do?”
Tom and Jim walked down the same sidewalk, saw the same “help wanted” sign, walked into the same office, and waited for the same man. When he came, he gave them both the same answer—the position had been filled an hour ago by a college student home for the summer.
The two frustrated job hunters sat next to each other on the curb outside.
“There’s got to be a way to get around this,” Tom exclaimed. “Too bad we can’t go into business for ourselves.”
“That’s it!” Jim jumped up. “We’ll dig up our own jobs. There’s got to be something other people don’t want to do, if we think about it hard enough … something like emptying garbage cans.”
“Oh, come on!” Tom said.
“No, really. Look, if we both worked together, we could get all the neighbors around your house, and all the neighbors around my house. We’d carry their trash cans out for them the night before the garbage man comes. Then we could come around the next day and wash all the cans out. If we kept everything clean and if we were really dependable, people would hire us to do it.”
“Maybe you’re right. My cousin used to make sack lunches for her dad. He rode to work in a car pool, and the other men liked his lunches—she always put a little extra treat inside or wrote him a note. Pretty soon she was making lunches for everyone in the car pool, and they each paid her. Maybe we could do something like that,” Tom said. He was starting to catch Jim’s excitement, but Jim issued a friendly word of caution.
“We might have to get a license if we start a restaurant business,” he grinned.
“Even for a lemonade stand?” Tom shot back. They both laughed.

But it was his commitment to love every person that thrilled Church members. One day a Sunday School class of youth came several miles to see him, by appointment, but he had just rushed off to the hospital where his brother, Thomas E. McKay, lay near death. The following Sunday, miles away from his office, there was a knock on the door of the Sunday School classroom. When the teacher opened the door, there stood President McKay. He had come to meet the class and apologize for being gone the day they had come to see him.
After explaining why he was not in his office that day, he shook hands with the teacher and with each of the children. “I want you to know,” he said, “that the president of the Church keeps his appointments if at all possible.”

I had searched and searched. Ties, shirts, cuff links, watches, pens, books, pictures, records, monogrammed socks—I had been looking for the perfect gift for Grandpa. Grandpa was dying of cancer, and this would probably be his last Christmas with us. I had been thinking for months about what would be the perfect thing to get for him. I wanted to give him something unique that would be just a small symbol of all the love and admiration that I had for him. But nothing that I saw seemed to be a worthy representation of that love.
Soon it was Christmas Eve and I still didn’t have a gift for Grandpa. I went shopping one last time, and once again I came home empty-handed. I started thinking, if Grandpa had this money, what would he do with it? How would he want the money spent? Ever so quietly the answer came. He would give the money to someone less fortunate than himself. So that’s how the money was used.
I got out a Christmas card and proceeded to put all the feelings that I had for Grandpa on paper. Sealing it all in an envelope, I took it downstairs to him. Along with the card, I gave him a big kiss and wished him a Merry Christmas; then, before he could say anything, I ran back up the stairs.
An hour or so later I went downstairs to get something for my mother. Tears were rolling down Grandpa’s cheeks. He drew me close to him and gave me one of those mammoth hugs that only grandpas can give. “That was the best gift you could have given me,” he said.
That was Grandpa’s last Christmas with us. The full impact of that experience did not become apparent to me until later. I slowly became aware that Grandpa had given me some of the most precious gifts that I’ll ever receive. He had helped me understand that the best gift that one can give is a portion of himself. Through example, Grandpa had given me a small portion of himself. He had kindled in me a desire to be like him and in so doing, had given me a more clear knowledge of the glorious personage whom he was striving to be like.

In one of my classes in high school, some Buddhist monks came in to give a presentation on their religion. The class responded well and asked lots of questions, and as the presentation went on, I thought about how cool it would be to have Latter-day Saint missionaries teaching my classmates about the gospel.
The thought kept nudging me until I found myself in front of my teacher requesting to work on a presentation with the missionaries to present to the class. My teacher gave an enthusiastic yes!
As I worked with the missionaries to prepare for the class, I worried about how people would respond. I prayed hard that the students would ask questions, that I wouldn’t embarrass myself, and, most of all, that the presentation would help me teach about the gospel.
That day when I walked into class with the missionaries, my hands were shaking. But then the missionaries began to speak. The students in the class were actually interested in the discussion, and for many of them, this was their first introduction to the Church. I slowly began to feel the warm feeling of the Holy Ghost telling me that I had done the right thing in having this presentation.
Since that experience I’ve grown to trust in the Lord more. I now have more courage to stand up for my religion and even to seek out missionary experiences.
Grace M., Alaska, USA

I know that many of you are concerned about raising your children during these difficult times and increasing their faith. When my wife and I were starting our family in the San Francisco Bay area, we had that same concern. At a critical point our stake members were advised by Elder Harold B. Lee, then a member of the Twelve, that we could raise our families in righteousness if we would:
Follow the prophet.
Create the true spirit of the gospel in our hearts and homes.
Be a light to those among whom we live.
Focus on the ordinances and principles taught in the temple. (See D&C 115:5; Harold B. Lee, “Your Light to Be a Standard unto the Nations,” Ensign, Aug. 1973, 3–4.)
As we followed this counsel, our faith increased and our fears decreased. I believe we can raise righteous children anywhere in the world if they are taught religious principles in the home.

Joseph Serge Merilus left his native Haiti at the age of 19 and moved to the Dominican Republic in 1980 in search of work. Eighteen months later he went back to Haiti, fell in love, and returned to the Dominican Republic with his new bride, Marie Reymonde Esterlin.
As they began their married life together in their newly adopted country, Joseph experienced a spiritual hunger. He and Marie visited several churches seeking to satisfy that hunger, but as Haitian Creole speakers in a Spanish-speaking country, they had difficulty understanding and being understood. Eventually they ran into two Latter-day Saint missionaries, who invited them to church. After Joseph and Marie had attended several meetings, the missionaries patiently taught them the discussions in Spanish, and they were baptized in September 1997.
Joseph was called to serve in the Sunday School presidency, then as a counselor in the branch presidency, and later as branch president. But because of a series of misunderstandings and hurt feelings, much of it resulting from miscommunication, Joseph, Marie, and their five children fell into inactivity and were largely forgotten by local Church members.
During the next seven years, the couple had four more children and welcomed a nephew and a niece from Haiti into their home. Through much effort Joseph became fluent in Spanish and English and began teaching English and Haitian Creole for a local company.
In August 2007 two priesthood leaders, in the process of seeking out the Lord’s lost sheep, appeared on the family’s doorstep. They discovered that Joseph and Marie still had testimonies of the gospel, even though they had not attended meetings for seven years. The leaders invited the family to return to church, which they did the very next day—all 13 of them. They have been attending ever since.
Today Joseph is a branch mission leader in Barahona, located in the southwestern part of the Dominican Republic. His two eldest sons also serve in branch leadership, and his nephew, a newly ordained elder, is the Young Men president. Recently the family traveled to the temple, where they were sealed as an eternal family.
Just think of it, 13 lost sheep are now found because two member-shepherds were willing to search for, nourish, and bring this family back to the Lord’s fold. They were led to this home just as you and I will be led as we seek out the lost sheep who are our responsibility.

My high school graduation was from a small Methodist boarding school in Thomasville, Georgia. I had enjoyed school very much and was hoping to continue my education at Berry College in Rome, Georgia. However, I was facing an uphill struggle to obtain the necessary funds for tuition, books, housing, and other expenses. My parents and family were not in a position to help me, and I made only a limited amount as a waitress during the summer. It was at this time that I received a surprising letter from the Women’s Division of Christian Service of the Methodist church. They offered to put me through college if I would fulfill a two-year mission for them as a teacher after graduation. I was deeply touched and astonished by their offer and wanted very much to accept. A few months earlier this would have seemed like an answer to my prayers, but now I wasn’t so sure.
I thought of every reason why I should accept the offer. My future would be secure, my dreams of a master’s degree in art would be realized, and I could devote my time to studying without having to worry about working. Was there really a difference in serving a mission for the Methodist church instead of the Mormon church? Weren’t they both Christian churches? My friends and teachers were encouraging me to take the offer. Their concern for my future was genuine, and I appreciated their love—I didn’t want to disappoint them. My personal desire to say yes to the Methodist church was strengthened by my fear of facing my friends if I did not.
“How could I turn down this offer?” I asked myself. But a still small voice, much quieter than the voices around me, whispered, “How can you accept it? How can you live a lie?” I realized then that if I accepted I would have to keep secret the fact that it was not the Methodist church I desired to serve. I could not use their support to achieve my goals. They were such wonderful people, so generous in their nature. The voice was right. How could I? I could not. My decision was made, and I had to find the strength to face it no matter how unrealistic it seemed to my friends. I wrote the council and explained that I was a Mormon, and though their offer was something I would never forget, I could not accept it. They answered my letter, expressing appreciation for my honesty with them, and wished me luck in my future endeavors.
Since then, through a lot of hard work and help from many people, I have graduated from Brigham Young University with the art degree I so much wanted. I was privileged to enjoy several teaching assistantships there plus the companionship of some of the greatest people I’ve ever known. When faced with similar decisions since then, I’ve reflected back on this experience of standing against the advice of friends and loved ones and listening instead to the whispering of one small voice that only I could hear. I have learned that no matter how great the problems and pressures or how difficult the decisions, Heavenly Father is always there to guide us.