Gospel Story Finder

“My father isn’t a member and wouldn’t let me go to FSY or be baptized,” says Jesiana, 16. “But then branch members fasted for me, and my grandmother talked with my father. After that he said I could go!”

At FSY, she experienced many firsts, such as, “participating in the lessons and activities and bearing my testimony helped me understand what it is really like to feel the Holy Ghost. I had never felt the Spirit like that before, and I was so happy and excited. I bore my testimony for the first time.”

My name is Mardi Datakasi, I’m 16 years old, and I go to Mt. Barker High, where I’m in year 11 and study maths, (Australians use the plural), English, chemistry, modern history, geography, drama, Australian studies, and biology.
I am currently the state champion and third in Australia for BMX (bicycle motocross) racing. I just returned from Holland after competing in IBF championships, where I came in sixth. This was a great experience and an opportunity to meet people from other countries, as there were 32 countries competing.
My day is very long. I get up at 5:30 A.M. to arrive at the chapel for seminary at 6:15. That’s a 20-kilometer trip. We finish at about 7:10. I eat breakfast, then go to the local fitness center and do my morning training for BMX, which includes weights and swimming. At 8:30 I leave there and walk to school. After school I train on my bike and do my homework. Every Monday and Thursday night I work at the Meadows take-away (fast-food restaurant) and get home about 10:30 P.M.
On weekends I race BMX bikes and go to church. I have just completed my third year of seminary and am a Laurel.

While in high school I watched my classmates play a special classroom game. The students were matched against the teacher. The name of the game was “How to pass the answers in an examination from one side of the room to the other without the knowledge of the teacher.” One boy in the middle of the room was the “quarterback.” He had a special knack and skillfully and joyfully carried out the process. The game was so much fun that many of the students participated, not thinking themselves dishonest, but merely playing a game. I tried it myself a time or two, though I felt little need of help in answering the questions. On one such attempt the teacher caught me, and the embarrassment and overpowering sense of guilt put an effective stop to my participation.

Throughout the scriptures, and indeed in the writings of thoughtful Christians through the centuries, we find examples of how Christ’s message of light and salvation can spiritually and physically sustain us. As a young priest traveling in Italy in 1833, Englishman John Henry Newman encountered emotional and physical darkness when illness detained him there for several weeks. He became deeply discouraged, and a nurse who saw his tears asked what troubled him. All he could reply was that he was sure God had work for him to do in England. Aching to return home, he finally found passage on a small boat.
Not long after the ship set sail, thick fog descended and obscured the hazardous cliffs surrounding them. Trapped for a week in the damp, gray darkness, the ship unable to travel forward or back, Newman pled for his Savior’s help as he penned the words we now know as the hymn “Lead, Kindly Light.”
Lead, kindly Light, amid th’encircling gloom; …
The night is dark, and I am far from home; …
Keep thou my feet; …
one step enough for me.
(Hymns, no. 97)
This hymn echoes a truth our hearts confirm: though trials may extinguish other sources of light, Christ will illuminate our path, “keep our feet,” and show us the way home. For as the Savior has promised, “he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness” (John 8:12).

Four-year-old Genny stared at the picture of her mom in a long, white dress. “Mommy, you look just like a princess going to a ball. Is that a castle behind you?” Genny asked. “I felt like a princess that day, but that’s not a castle. I’m at the temple,” Mom said with a smile. “It’s my wedding day.” She put Genny on her lap. “Daddy and I were sealed in the temple six years ago,” Mom said. “We were promised that our family can be together forever.” “Was I sealed at the temple too?” Genny asked. “You and your brother and any other children we have are sealed to us forever just by being born into our family,” Mom said. Genny liked the sound of forever. She looked at the picture again. “You look so pretty, Mommy.” “Would you like to see my wedding dress?” Mom asked. “Yes,” Genny said. In her bedroom, Mom took a white plastic bag from the closet. She unzipped it and pulled out a beautiful white dress. It had long sleeves, each with a row of tiny buttons. “Can I touch it?” Genny asked. Mom nodded. Genny gently touched the fabric. “It’s so soft.” “My mother helped me pick it out,” Mom said. “It’s the most special dress I’ll ever have.” Genny threw her arms around her mom. “When I grow up, I want to go to the temple and be sealed just like you and Daddy.” Mom said, “That’s just what Daddy and I want you to do.”

I recall in the 1980s when we were opening a $30 million chemical plant in the Far East. A government minister invited us to his home for dinner. He took us to see his fleet of nineteen fancy cars, given as gifts by foreign companies. Soon a foreign partner suggested Jon make a yearly kickback to the minister of $250,000. Jon responded that he “had no intention of paying even five cents toward what was nothing more than extortion.”6
Rather than bow to the minister’s demand, he sold the plant and moved the operation. We lost millions of dollars, but word spread that Huntsman would not succumb to demands for “fees.” Such demands were never made again.

President Heber J. Grant (1856–1945), seventh President of the Church, told of how President Taylor resolved a quarrel between two friends:
“These men had quarreled over some business affairs, and finally concluded that they would try to get President John Taylor to help them adjust their difficulties. …
“… They … asked [President Taylor] if he would listen to their story and render his decision. President Taylor willingly consented. But he said: ‘Brethren, before I hear your case, I would like very much to sing one of the songs of Zion for you.’
“Now President Taylor was a very capable singer, and interpreted sweetly and with spirit, our sacred hymns. He sang one of our hymns to the two brethren. Seeing its effect, he remarked that he never heard one of the songs of Zion but that he wanted to listen to one more, and so asked them to listen while he sang another. Of course, they consented. They both seemed to enjoy it; and, having sung the second song, he remarked that he had heard there is luck in odd numbers and so with their consent he would sing still another, which he did. Then, in his jocular way, he remarked: ‘Now brethren, I do not want to wear you out, but if you will forgive me, and listen to one more hymn, I promise to stop singing, and will hear your case.’
“The story goes that when President Taylor had finished the fourth song, the brethren were melted to tears, got up, shook hands, and asked President Taylor to excuse them for having called upon him, and for taking up his time. They then departed without his even knowing what their difficulties were.”18

Moving? Tomorrow? It can’t be time already, thought eleven-year-old Sarah as she folded the last of her mother’s dish towels and put them into a barrel. The family had been planning for the past few weeks to leave Kirtland, Ohio, for Missouri with some of the other Saints, but they didn’t know exactly what day they would leave. This morning Sarah’s father had come into the kitchen and told his family that tomorrow was moving day.

Just a month ago, when spring was in its glory throughout the Kirtland area, Father had told Sarah that she must do all that she could to help Mother get ready to move. However, Sarah had tried to convince herself that they wouldn’t have to do it. How can I leave Kirtland? she’d wondered. We’ve never lived anywhere else.

Kirtland was the place where Sarah and her brother John and sister, Laura, had all been born. Another brother, two years younger than Sarah, had even been buried in Kirtland shortly after he was born. It was the place where Sarah and her parents had been taught and baptized by Brother Sidney Rigdon. Brother Rigdon had been their minister when they had all belonged to the Campbellite Church, and the whole family had loved him. They had been glad to read the Book of Mormon when he had brought it to their home. It was only right that Brother Rigdon had baptized them when they were sure that the gospel was true.

Sarah had been excited about turning twelve in the fall and going with her best friend, Mary, to Sister Eliza Snow’s school for girls. But Sister Snow’s family and Mary’s family had already moved to Missouri, so there would be no school. She had hoped that someone else would teach the school once things settled down a little. But things hadn’t settled down.

The rest of that day and night went quickly. Suddenly it was daybreak and time to leave their home. When the wagon was packed, the whole family climbed aboard, with Father sitting on the front seat to drive the oxen he had bought only last week. John, looking very big for a seven-year-old, sat next to Father. Five-year-old Laura and Sarah sat in the back of the wagon with Mother. They all watched Kirtland grow smaller as they joined the other wagons leaving the city.

The first few weeks of the trip seemed especially long because of the slow pace of the oxen. John and Laura had been excited about the trek at first, but even they calmed down as time passed. One night Sarah was awakened by the low voice of her father. There was something in the sound of his voice that frightened her. She crawled out from under her blanket and drew back the wagon flap.

The worried look on Father’s face eased a little when he saw her. “Sarah, I need your help. Your mother has a high fever. Can you go to the river and fill the bucket with some water?”

Sarah was afraid. Mother had never been sick! She had always been the one to take care of others when they were ill. Quickly Sarah filled the bucket and returned to the wagon. All night long she and Father took turns wiping her mother’s face with damp cloths to keep her cool. Mother was too sick to say a word, and this really upset Sarah. By morning Sarah realized that she must take care of her brother and sister and fix whatever breakfast she could put together. She knew that she must remain calm so that John and Laura would not be frightened by Mother’s illness. Quietly she woke the children and told them what had happened.

“Will you go and get some small pieces of wood to start the fire, Laura?” she asked. “You’re really good at finding wood.” Turning to her little brother, she said, “John, if you can get some larger pieces, we can build a fire together.”

John crawled out from under his blanket and began to work without complaining. Sarah was amazed at how helpful her sister and brother were. They seemed to know exactly what to do.

Sarah cooked breakfast and quickly cleaned everything up. Mother didn’t seem much better, so Sarah stayed in the back of the wagon and put soothing, damp cloths on her mother’s face. Father had been able to fix a lid on a bucket so that the water didn’t spill with the wagon’s movement. Because the children helped so much, the family was able to keep up with the company.

Sarah spent every spare minute planning and cooking meals, keeping their clothes washed, and tending Mother. Laura and John gathered wood each night for cooking, and they helped in any other way they could. John found some empty wooden spools, and he and Laura were busy making a surprise for the family.

One morning Sarah awoke and realized that her family had been gone from Kirtland for six weeks! Mother was almost well, but she still let the children take care of things together. How proud she was of Sarah’s cooking and John and Laura’s fires.

“Do you know what’s happened to us, Sarah?” Mother said softly. “With the Lord’s help, we are relying on each other now. This is what we’re supposed to do. If I hadn’t been sick, you children would never have been able to show your father and me the many things you can do for our family.”

Before Sarah could reply, John and Laura climbed into the wagon holding something under a cloth. Father climbed in behind them and said, “I don’t know what these two are up to, but they made me stop everything to come and see what they’ve made.”

The children uncovered a checkerboard made from a weathered board, and a set of tiny checkers made from the spools John had found. Laura beamed and said, “John rubbed charcoal on some spools to make the black pieces, and I colored the other ones with some berries we found along the way. We thought everyone could take turns playing checkers.”

Sarah felt tears come to her eyes. She would miss Kirtland and its happy memories, but she was taking with her the best part of those memories—her family.

Alison listened eagerly as the bishop announced that their ward would be having a Christmas open house this year. “We want it to be a special evening,” he said. “It will be a wonderful opportunity to invite friends and neighbors.”
Alison loved the Christmas holidays. She liked shopping for presents for her family and friends and singing Christmas carols. And she loved reading the story of Jesus’s birth and thinking of Him as a small baby.
The bishop’s next words caught her attention. “Because of the open house, we won’t be having our traditional ward Christmas party this year.”
Alison frowned. “No party?” she whispered to her mother. The ward Christmas party was one of her favorite parts of the season.
Mom put a finger to her lips.
“Some of our friends and neighbors do not understand that we are Christians,” the bishop continued. “We want them to know that we believe in Jesus Christ.”
Alison turned her attention back to the bishop.
“The open house will focus on Jesus Christ,” he said. “We’re asking families to bring nativity sets, and we will have a live reenactment of the Nativity scene.”
As the time drew near for the open house, Alison started getting excited. Mom and Dad invited an elderly neighbor to go to the open house. Alison invited Erica.
The night of the open house, Alison helped Mom wrap both of the family’s nativity sets in newspaper. Then Mom and Dad drove her to pick up Erica.
When they got to the church, Alison and Erica looked at nativity sets from Japan, Austria, the Philippines, and many other countries.
Then the girls went outside where the young men and young women were acting out the Nativity. There were live cows, sheep, and even a nanny goat. “Everything but a camel,” Alison said.
The bishop asked everyone to gather in the chapel. Alison and Erica sat with the Primary children. The children sang “Picture a Christmas” and “The Nativity Song,” and the ward choir performed parts of Messiah.
“That was really great,” Erica said on the ride home. “I wish my parents could have come.”
“Maybe next year,” Alison said, smiling. She thought about the open house and realized she hadn’t missed the Christmas party after all.

As a young boy, I wanted to have a paying job. My brother and sister and I started our own fish bait business. We put our stand on a busy street corner where fishermen could conveniently stop on their way to the many fishing spots up the canyon. We did not sell common variety fish bait like some of the other kids in the neighborhood; rather my father taught us that we were worm merchants. We distinguished ourselves from our competition by offering the liveliest worms at the best price. To keep the worms active we actually fed them coffee grounds that my dad brought home from the local drugstore. Our harvesting tactics were a closely guarded secret, and we had several prime spots for catching worms after nightfall. Our enterprise was so successful that it not only funded much of my education, but I still had $300 left of my earnings to buy a diamond ring for my wife when I got married.

I am grateful for a teacher who encouraged his students to keep a journal of the whisperings or promptings of the Spirit in their lives. He directed us to note what we felt and what resulted. Little things became evident. One day I was frantically trying to complete some assignments and prepare for a trip. I had just been down to the laundry area of the dorm to move my clothes from the washer to the dryer. Unfortunately, all the dryers were in use, and they all had many minutes to go. I went back upstairs discouraged, knowing that by the time those dryers finished, I had to be on the road. I had barely returned to my room when I felt prompted to go back downstairs and check the laundry again. Foolishness, I thought—I had just been there, and I didn’t have time. But because I was trying to listen, I went. Two of the dryers were empty—and I was able to meet all my commitments. Could the Lord possibly have been concerned about smoothing my way in such a small but, to me, important matter? I have learned since, through many such experiences, that the Lord will help us in every aspect of our lives when we are trying to serve Him and do His will.

Let me urge you to be mature and honest in your judgment of yourself. You might, of necessity, be making comparisons. Our little brown-eyed boy came home one day from kindergarten a year or two ago, and he was chuckling, all amused. I asked him what was so amusing.

He said, “Nuffin’.”

I said, “What is so funny?”

“Nuffin’.”

And then he chuckled the more, so I pressed him a little bit and said, “Well, what is so funny?”

He said, “Oh, deys a tid over in tindadarten what tain’t tok plain.”

I suggest that our grown-up judgments of one another, and maybe our judgments of ourselves, are about that mature.

Many years ago, my family happily awaited the birth of our son, Randolph “Ray” Gibson. But a routine ultrasound produced a sledgehammer to our hearts.

Ray was diagnosed with hypoplastic left heart syndrome (HLHS), which is a condition where the left side of the heart does not develop properly. Blood cannot circulate for the heart to function, and it is often fatal for the infant.

As our family processed this diagnosis, our friends and family offered prayers for us, family fasts, and outpourings of love and concern. We remained hopeful. Nevertheless, a follow-up test brought more discouraging news: Ray’s HLHS was extremely severe.

Compassionate medical professionals discussed our options with us. To terminate the pregnancy was not a decision we would consider. But we had to balance a wish for our son to live—however faint the odds—against pain he would suffer from attempts to repair his heart. Efforts to keep Ray alive would likely lead to a lifetime of suffering and to death at a very young age.

My wife, Kati, and I prayerfully made a very hard decision. We would greet our son into this world, keep him comfortable, and allow him to die peacefully. Our commitment to the gospel of Jesus Christ and our belief in the plan of salvation helped us make this choice. It was not easy watching our son grow in the womb, knowing his death would occur after birth. We also worried how our two-year-old would deal with meeting a baby brother and then attending his funeral a week later.

We were strengthened by the Lord’s declaration that “little children are holy, being sanctified through the atonement of Jesus Christ” (Doctrine and Covenants 74:7).

Kati and I can attest that the year in which we awaited Ray’s arrival helped us understand the true meaning of a husband and wife cleaving to each other (see Genesis 2:24 and Doctrine and Covenants 42:22). We clung to one another, allowing our love and trust to help us endure. We poured our hearts out to God, asking for strength to go on and to bless our family through this ordeal. Our marriage grew stronger.

Before Ray was born, we found out he was breech. The doctors worried that he would not survive the strain of normal birth, so they performed a C-section delivery. Minutes after the birth, I, along with my bishop and several others, gave Ray a priesthood blessing outside the operating room. During this chaotic, traumatic situation, I uttered several sentences and finished “in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” Ray was then washed, bundled, and taken to his family in the hospital room.

Ray lived for 24 hours and 16 minutes. Family and friends filled the hospital room during the day, holding Ray and loving him. It was a surreal experience—the only day we would have with our son. I treasured holding him, kissing him, and changing his diapers.

The next morning our son died. We held him and loved him fiercely in his final hour.

In 1956, after returning home from several years in Washington, D.C., and having declined several attractive offers there, I received an offer to work at the University of Utah. My wife said I should take it. She said presciently, “I feel if you go there, maybe you will have some influence on students.” I replied impatiently, “I’ll be typing news releases, not working with students.” The subsequent opportunities included being a bishop of a student ward, dean of students, and teaching hundreds of fine students in political science. It wasn’t status that mattered, of course, but being stretched and being given opportunities to serve.

One of the favorite stories of our family comes from a true incident in the life of a woman who was the victim of cerebral palsy. The woman tells how as a child she would look forward to meeting her father at the gate of the ranch corral each evening as he returned from rounding up the cattle. He would drive the herd into the corral, close the big gate, and then hoist her up into his arms and steady her hand as she practiced placing the rope over the post to secure the gate. One evening she waited in her usual place by the gate. She watched as the cattle ran into the corral. Then she looked for her father, but he did not come. Panic struck her as she realized the gate must be closed and secured without his steadying hand to guide her own. It was with great effort and struggle that she tried over and over again to slide the rope up and over the gate post. With great concentration and with her strength almost completely exhausted, she finally succeeded. As she completed what was for her a very difficult task, she looked up to see her father nearby. He had been there for some time watching her determined struggle, wanting to reach out and help her and to steady and guide her hands as he usually did; but he knew she needed that experience. She needed to know she could do the task and thus gain the confidence to try other difficult tasks on her own. As much as he loved her and wanted to make her trial easier, he had to permit her to struggle, to learn through her own efforts the satisfaction that comes from personal sacrifice and achievement.

Years ago I was given the assignment to speak in sacrament meeting on the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Though I was reading my scriptures regularly and had read about the Atonement, I had never studied the Atonement in detail before. As I began to learn about this sacred subject, I felt a hunger to understand every detail of that sublime event. I devoured every verse, book, article, and talk on the subject that I could get my hands on. My relationship with the Savior and Heavenly Father advanced more during those few weeks than any time of my life. I found myself talking to Heavenly Father on a much more regular basis, more than just traditional prayer time. I recognized promptings and answers were coming more often, and they were about aspects of my life that had not been considered before. Specific direction came about family, work, business, my church callings, and even what could be considered trivial things. My relationship with God moved to a much higher plane.

Some years ago I prepared to teach a class on a subject I felt would be particularly difficult. The night before the scheduled class, I prayed for guidance and then retired, still troubled in my mind. When I awoke, a certain thought was introduced to my mind that I shared with the class later that morning. After the class, a young man spoke with me privately and said, “The lesson was for me. I now know what I have to do.” Later, I learned that he had come to that class as his first contact with the Church in many years. He then proceeded to get his life in order and eventually served a faithful mission. Presently he is experiencing the happiness associated with keeping eternal family covenants. He possesses the gift of charity because he received the atoning love of Christ.

My dad had joined the Church in Utah in December 1991. When he came back to Nigeria, we went to church for the first time. I got baptized in January 1992 when I was nine years old. When I was 14, the prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), came to Nigeria at Port Harcourt. My family drove from Owerri to Port Harcourt. When we were driving back, the airport is along the Owerri road, we saw the prophet’s car. We told my father “Follow him”.
So, we followed the prophet to the airport. At the airport, they told the prophet some members had come to say goodbye. Nobody told us to come. We were just lucky to see the prophet on the way. While the prophet was shaking all our hands, he shook my hand and held my it and said, “Will you go on a mission?”
I said “Yes”.
The prophet said, “If you go on a mission, the Lord will bless you and your family.”
I was 14 years then and had not entered university. I got my first degree before going on a mission. I entered university life in Nigeria. University life was different and influenced me. Then the miracles began. After you get your degree, you are required to do a year of national youth service. When I was called to do my national service, I was called to Lagos. Normally, a lot of people pay money in bribes to the government to go to Lagos, but I didn’t pay anything. While I was in Lagos, I had a mighty change of heart and I prepared to go on a mission. From Lagos I was sent to Accra as a missionary. I met my wife and came back to Accra after my mission, and we got married in 2010.
I am from Nigeria; but I live in Ghana. In January 2023, I went to my village to participate in the presidential election. The Church is not there. One day a man and a woman came to visit me at my house. I am married to a Ghanaian, and they wanted to talk to me. While visiting with them, what came into my mind was the question, “what can I do for this family?” I felt like the best gift I could give this family was the gospel. I asked them if I could come to their home on Tuesday to teach them. As I was teaching them, they were responding positively. I focused on family and taught them the importance of family first. I then went to the house next door to teach their neighbors. I did not even start with my kindred. My kindred came to me later and were upset. They said to me, “how can you start a church and not even tell us?”
It was not my plan to do missionary work when I was there. I took my scriptures, but I did not even take a white shirt and tie.
As I was going around teaching the people of the village, there was a man who was baptized in 1982. He joined the Church in Lagos but when he came back to the village, the Church was not there. He became a pastor and used the Church’s Bible Dictionary and Topical Guide to teach. The people there thought he was a brilliant pastor. They didn’t know where he was getting his information from. Because he was technically a member, I focused on teaching his wife and daughter. The whole family got baptized. I was using my own money to hire a van to go to church in Umuahia, which was the closest place. The bishop and stake president were happy to receive us. My father even came from the city to the village to go to church with us.
I told my elder brother, who is a stake president in Owerri, what was going on. He said we fell under the Nigeria Enugu Mission. Eventually, we got permission to worship in my village. We decided to use my grandfather’s house to hold church in. My grandfather has passed away. When he was alive, white missionaries came to him and he said he would support the Church, this was back in the 90’s.
The people helped me move all the property and clean the house. The people cleaned the house as if they were members, but they were not yet baptized. The missionaries came and on the first Sunday, we had about 19 baptisms and later more, for a total of 39 baptisms. The stake president has applied for us to become a branch. My father came and bore his testimony and said he never thought the Church would be in his village.
The group still worships in my grandfather’s house. From my village, we now have two high councilmen called. There is someone enrolled in BYU Pathways. The Church is growing, and it makes me happy.

Monday night in Manila doesn’t seem much different at first glance than any other night. Traffic in the city moves like a million ants all trying to use the same narrow tree branch to crawl in two different directions at once. Except these ants honk.
We were trying to get to the Velascos’ house so I could see a Filipino family home evening in action, but rush hour wasn’t cooperating. Finally our guide announced he was taking a shortcut, and we pulled onto a narrow street packed with people buying and selling items at small roadside stands. The shoppers were enjoying themselves, laughing and calling out to one another. They paid little attention to our compact car inching its way through their open-air shopping center.
When we finally arrived at the Velascos’ at the other end of the market, the contrast was astonishing. As we walked into their home, the hustle and bustle outside seemed to simply fade away.
They hadn’t sat down for a lesson yet, but family night had already started. Six-year-old Stephen sat on Sister Velasco’s lap while she and Brother Velasco chatted with Grandma and Grandpa. Kevin and Kirby, 14, laughed about something 15-year-old Naomi had said. Katrina, 11, was setting out the scriptures and hymnbook.
After we had met everyone, the family sat down together. Grandpa offered an opening prayer. Brother Velasco talked about talents. During the discussion the family switched easily between Tagalog and English whenever one language suited better than the other. Katrina and Naomi took turns reading the parable of the talents from Matthew 25:14–30. Brother Velasco pulled out his guitar and shared one of his talents in song, then passed the guitar to Kirby, who played a song too. Sister Velasco helped Stephen say the closing prayer, and everyone stepped into the kitchen for a special treat, homemade pizza.
While everyone was chewing, I had the chance to ask them their feelings about family home evening.
“What’s your favorite part?” I asked Kirby. Unfortunately, he had just taken a bite. “The refreshments,” he said around the mouthful. Everyone laughed.
“The laughter,” Naomi said as their fit of the giggles passed.
“What has it done for your family?”
“It has helped us bond,” Kevin said. “That’s what happens when you share your thoughts and feelings.”
It was a good answer, but I wanted to make sure he wasn’t saying it just because I was there. “Does it really?” I asked.
They all nodded. “Because of family home evening, we have become closer,” Naomi answered. “We’re more friendly to each other.”
That was obvious. The blessings of family home evening were obvious too. And it was with great reluctance that I said good-bye and stepped back out into the endless rush of a busy world.

“Read the scriptures again? I’ve already done that for two years and made it through each of the standard works four times!”
Thus wrote a returned missionary after I challenged my institute class to read and ponder the scriptures twenty minutes each day for a month.
I suppose I made that assignment partly out of curiosity. I wanted to see if these modern young people could discover for themselves in a month’s time some of the power that ancient prophets found in the scriptures available to them.
In order to evaluate the experience, I assigned each student to write a reaction at the end of the month.
The other students’ responses were equally enthusiastic. It was apparent that scripture study affected them just as it affected the ancient prophets. It vitalized their prayers, improved their sensitivity to spiritual things, increased their productivity, strengthened their self-mastery, and changed their attitude toward life.