Gospel Story Finder

Seven years ago, our son Daniel died by suicide.
The day of his death, we didn’t know where he was. We called all his friends, hospitals, and the police, but nobody had seen him. Daniel had been struggling with depression and suicide ideation for five years, so my wife and I had a feeling about what might have happened. Finally, my wife, Celi, got hold of his roommates, who found him in his room.
I think that losing a child might be the worst thing to happen to a parent. And nothing can take away that pain, but the people around you can do much to help you through your grief. During that horrible time, we did not lack for family, friends, or help. From the very first night we found out he was gone, people reached out. Our neighbors, Daniel’s friends, and our Church leaders came over. Relief Society sisters brought meals, and anonymous donors contributed enough for our needs.
Our bishop later told us that many people had wanted to help but didn’t know how. And so they asked him, “What can we do for the Hunts?”
It hasn’t happened often, but sometimes when people hear about Daniel, they don’t know what to say or how to treat us. I think it’s like when we don’t know how to approach someone who speaks a different language. We don’t know what to say or worry about saying the wrong thing, so instead we just don’t talk to them. But please reach out. Loss is lonely and can be isolating. The fact that we were surrounded by so many who did reach out made all the difference.
One thing we appreciated was how many stories we heard about our son. We do not worry for Daniel. We know what kind of kid he was. We know he was sick, and we know that “the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). And Daniel had a big heart. We know that. But to hear people tell their own stories about Daniel was wonderful.
Nate Olsen was one of Daniel’s friends. They had been buddies since first grade. When Nate had to come home early from his mission for medical reasons, Daniel immediately invited him to lunch. Nate told us how Daniel had been there to listen, love, and encourage—in a time when Nate felt lost and alone. As Nate said, Dan was the kind of person who truly cared about people.
It’s important to be the person you are and to admit you’re human. Sometimes we need to ask for help, to reach out—even when we’re the ones hurting. We can let others in and let them see who we are.
Seven years later, it’s still hard. Sometimes Celi will suddenly start crying, saying, “I miss my baby. I miss my baby.” But she has expressed that she has had comfort through those times—spiritual comfort. Spiritual comfort is perfect communication. Seeking spiritual comfort is the best way to feel perfectly included. And this spiritual comfort includes the human angels who feel inspired to come and help.
Sheri L. Dew, former Second Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, once shared a story about a General Authority who asked how to tell if someone is a true follower of Jesus Christ. The answer confused me at first, but now I fully agree: “The way you can tell if someone is truly converted to Jesus Christ is by how that person treats others.”1 The Christlike way to treat others is with respect, love, and compassion—no matter who we are or what we’re going through.

Often the real value of something is not recognized until it is taken from us. To illustrate, consider a man who had lost the use of the priesthood through transgression. Later it was returned to him as part of the restoration of ordinances he obtained through full repentance. After the restoration, I turned to his wife and said, “Would you like a blessing?” She enthusiastically responded. Then I looked at the husband, now capable of using his priesthood, and said, “Would you like to give your wife a blessing?” Words cannot express the profound emotion of such an experience and the bonds of love, trust, and gratitude it created. You shouldn’t have to lose your priesthood to appreciate it more fully.

Christmas was coming, and Elizabeth could hardly wait. Her excitement wasn’t for the gifts that Father Christmas would bring, nor for her eighth birthday on the day after Christmas. She was excited because on the day after her birthday she would be baptized into God’s true Church.
Grandmother Beardall smiled as the family sat down to dinner. “Look at Elizabeth,” she said. “She’s glowing like a crystal! Is it Christmas or birthday wishes that dance in your head, my dear?”
“Neither,” Elizabeth answered without thinking. She remembered too late that Grandmother wasn’t supposed to know about the baptism.
“Neither?” Grandmother sounded puzzled. “How can it be neither? Tell us, child. What excites you so?”
Elizabeth studied the pattern on her china plate and didn’t answer.
Grandmother frowned and turned to look at Father. “Someone told me they saw you associating with those wicked Mormons, Francis. I assured them it was not true. Can you give me the same assurance?”
Elizabeth thought of Elder Chase and Elder Canon and all the other good people in the Church. “They are not wicked, Grandmother!” she blurted out.
Grandmother turned pale. “So it is true,” she said softly.
“Mother, we have found God’s true Church,” Elizabeth’s father said gently. “We are being baptized at the end of the month.”
Grandmother sat stiff and straight. “The children too?”
“Ellen and Frank are too young,” Mother replied. “But Elizabeth is old enough to decide for herself, and as you have seen, she can hardly wait.”
Grandmother took out her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “You have broken my heart, Francis, and brought disgrace on your family. I would rather have followed you to your grave than see you join that despised church. If you join with those people, you are no longer my son, but I would not lose my beloved granddaughter.” She turned to Elizabeth. “If you really have a choice in this matter, I beg you not to be baptized but come and live with me. I promise that you will never want for anything as long as you live.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. She loved her grandmother very much, but she also wanted to be baptized. Later, as Mother tucked her into bed, Elizabeth asked, “Why doesn’t Grandmother want us to join God’s true Church?”
“She doesn’t believe that it is the true church,” Mother said, “and she has the right to choose.”
“But what should I do? If I do what Grandma wants will Heavenly Father understand? Will He know that I still believe the Church is true?”
“He knows your heart, Elizabeth, but sometimes faith is more than just believing. It is trusting God and doing the right thing even when it’s hard. But you also have the right to choose. It’s your decision if or when you are baptized.”
In the busy days that followed, Elizabeth put aside the decision as she worked on Christmas presents for her family. But as she pushed cloves into a pomander ball for Grandmother, Elizabeth knew she could give a gift that would make Grandmother much happier. She could agree to live with her.
On Christmas Eve Elizabeth’s family was enjoying their plum pudding when the doctor came to call. “I have just come from tending Mrs. Beardall,” he told Father. “She is not serious, but asks that you come see her.”
Father reached for his coat. “I’ll take Elizabeth,” he said. “That will cheer her.”
Grandmother was in bed propped on her pillows. “How are you?” Father asked, taking her hand.
“My old body is wearing out,” Grandmother said. “I am in great need of a strong youth to assist me.” She looked at Elizabeth. “Well, dear? What is your decision? Will you come help me in my time of need?”
Elizabeth hesitated. Seeing her grandmother in bed reminded her of the night three years earlier when she herself lay dying.
“I love you, Grandmother,” Elizabeth said, “and I will do what I can to help you. But God has given me special promises and one of them was that I would join the true Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He cannot keep His promises unless I do my part. So I have decided to be baptized with my parents.”
As soon as Elizabeth spoke these words, joy filled her heart. She knew she had made the right decision.

My father was called to preside over the East German Mission at the outbreak of World War II. At this time, he was also drafted into the German army. He directed the affairs of the mission from the battlefield through his two counselors.
One Sabbath before Christmas, he felt very lonely, stationed in Denmark away from his family, and wanted to worship God in sacrament meeting. He didn’t know whether a Church branch existed in Esbjerg, but he assumed there might be one somewhere in the city. He didn’t speak the language, but, dressed in his full military uniform, he hummed the tune of a favorite hymn as he walked on a city street. He hoped he would attract someone’s attention who could lead him to the Church.
Sure enough, as a little girl passed my father, she asked him in Danish, “Mormon?” and, seeing him nod his head, she led him to the branch meetinghouse.
My father risked his life, realizing that if he were discovered by Nazi officials among enemy people in their worship services, he could face a charge of treason, punishable by death. He also took a risk by surrendering his weapon belt to the branch president at the door and by accepting an invitation to deliver a Christmas message during sacrament meeting in another enemy tongue—English.
A young Danish girl who was a member of the branch wrote to my mother about the strange experience of having an enemy soldier in their midst:
Last night I visited the branch. There was a German there, your husband. Even though many Danish people hate Germans, we learned to love this man. He spoke to the congregation in English, and William Orum Peterson translated. Your husband related how only a month ago, he had lost everything he had, and the mission home had been destroyed. But he was thankful that his wife and children were safe. He then gave testimony of the truthfulness of the Church. It was wonderful to see a man in the uniform we hated speak with so much love for us. He was happy to be among the Saints.

“I have had many experiences that have made me realize that the Lord will help you to do the impossible. When you operate like this, you learn that keeping the Spirit is the most important thing.
“One day we had a work crew organized, and we needed 13,000 fathoms of sennett (rope made from coconut husks) to tie the pieces of the roof on the McKay house together. I had received promises from many people that they would supply the rope, but when I went to pick it up, no one had it ready. After driving all over the island, I had collected only about 30 fathoms. I was discouraged, and so I complained to God. In my prayers I said, ‘We are working hard, and yet I can’t get the help I need.’
“I had to stop at the mission home to confirm another appointment, and one of the supervising elders said, ‘Brother Kamauoha, I have some sennett you can use.’
“I thought, ‘How nice,’ but I was sure an elder’s little souvenir roll of sennett wouldn’t really help us. He went into his room and came out with this big roll. He handed it to me and said he had about 13,000 fathoms as he wanted to build a Samoan fale (house) with it when he got home to the U.S.
“You can bet I hurriedly went back to the Lord and retracted my complaining. I was truly sorry for ever being discouraged.”

Our family recently acquired a personal computer, and I enthusiastically set about learning to use it. Having artistic interests, one thing that I found fascinating was a paint program. The first day I had great fun using circles and lines of varying sizes to create simple pictures. The magic of computers was mine!
A couple of days later, as I was exploring the various functions of this same program, I discovered a wealth of type styles and sizes that I could call up and reproduce on the screen. Then I found some preset designs and borders. Now I could make signs and posters. I had arrived!
Eventually, I found in the manual some detailed pictures that could be created with my program. I tried but found it impossible to reproduce them because of the clumsiness of drawing with the mouse attachment. I decided that I must lack some basic coordination gene and resolved to stick to what I already could do.
Then I learned about a command that would magnify an area of any picture so that it could be added to or taken from one small dot at a time. With this knowledge I finally, painstakingly created a picture that was the equal of any example in the manual.
I am still learning new ways to use my computer. But, more importantly, my experience with it has convinced me of the need to continue daily in learning new ways to make the gospel a living, directing force in my life.

Sutton Coldfield’s royal title dates back to 1528 when Henry VIII was out hunting in the local park. Disaster nearly occurred when a wild boar appeared, charging menacingly at the king. Before any harm could be done, an arrow sped from the undergrowth, killing the boar. The king was surprised when, on asking to see the person who had saved his life, a young lady came before him.
As well as praising the girl, King Henry invited her to name her reward. She requested a pardon for her father, who had been unjustly outlawed, then asked that a royal charter be given to the town. Both these wishes were granted. Henry honoured the young lady with the gift of a rose, which became the emblem of Sutton Coldfield.

I don’t ever want to forget him. You see, Hans got really sick last month—Mother said it was meningitis. Even though the doctor and the bishop came to help, he died.
We all cried when Hans died. Mother and Father hugged each other and cried. They hugged me too. Our neighbors and friends came over and they cried. I’m glad that our friends were there. It helped to talk to my friends. It helped to just sit on the porch with them beside me.
Hans’s funeral was in the morning. My grandparents and all my cousins and aunts and uncles came. Our friends and neighbors were there, too. Mother and Father played a song for Hans on the piano and then talked a lot about Hans and Jesus.
Hans is buried near a little pine tree. I like that tree. Father says that we can watch it grow. It will remind us that Hans is really alive, too, only with Jesus.
I know that Hans will always be my brother because Mother and Father were married in the temple. I didn’t know how important that was until Hans died. Now I do.

On my desk sits a handcrafted, somewhat mangled, little clay sheep. I keep it there to remind me of the real reason I get up in the morning.
The other young man, John, was extremely quiet. Although he came to our family home evenings, he always sat in the corner, never saying anything. Though others would try to start a conversation with him, he would not respond. Kathleen and I would invite him over on other days of the week, but he wouldn’t come. We tried everything we knew to get him to express himself and let him know that he was worthwhile. He never responded. We were particularly worried about him because he showed all the symptoms of dropping out entirely, and we didn’t really know how to get through to him, to let him know that he was worth more than his social security and that he had more to offer the world than the stripes on his sleeve. During that special home evening activity John convinced us that we need no longer be so gravely concerned.
At the beginning of the assignment, he took some clay and went off to a corner of the living room. Almost hiding, John very quietly stayed by himself throughout most of the evening, working the clay. Occasionally he smiled as someone else in the group made a contribution. Generally, he showed no emotion whatsoever and said absolutely nothing. So after everyone had made a presentation but John, we prodded him to speak.
To our pleasant surprise, John stood up and then said, “In the Bible there is a story about a shepherd who lost a sheep. This shepherd, as the story goes, was very concerned for the lost sheep, so concerned that he left the whole flock to seek out the one that couldn’t be found. I feel like I am the lost sheep, and you have found me. I want to give you this little clay sheep to show my gratitude.”
Then he sat down. No one said a word. I doubt that there was a dry eye in the room.
I can’t think of a better reason to get up in the morning than to feed my Father’s sheep. So, as a gentle reminder, I keep John’s gift on my desk—always.

There was a time when I didn’t want to be around a girl in my Young Women class. Some of her behaviors didn’t seem very appropriate to me. I asked myself, “Why is she like that?”

Then in a conference, someone talked about how we shouldn’t see people as they are but for who they can become. That hit me hard. I decided to try and see the good things about this young woman. She participated in class. She was willing to come to church even though she and her sister were the only active members in their family. She was willing to come to activities, even when her sister wasn’t as willing.

When I started looking for good things about this young woman, I felt like I was no longer seeing her with my earthly eyes. I felt like I was seeing her through the eyes of God, the way He would see her.

My name is Niampi Yobo Sévérin, a married member of the Church and father of four children.
For many years, my addiction to alcohol had a negative impact on my family life and prevented me from attending school as I would have liked.
Today, I realize that my conversion to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the best thing that has happened to me in my life, but the circumstances of my conversion seemed unexpected to me.
I was born to Catholic parents who instilled in me the principles of that congregation and I am naturally a man who loves reading.
In my search for the truth at a young age I had converted to the Jehovah religion where I gained a better understanding of the scriptures, especially the Bible. But it still wasn’t enough for me because I was carrying a heavy burden.
Indeed, my life changed because of an addiction to alcohol and tobacco that had a profound impact on my professional, and especially on my family, life. I felt powerless, I could see my family go to waste, especially the education of my children. This was a great concern for me. This situation worried me deeply and I did not know how to get rid of it. Prayers and tears were put to work without result.
I was looking for a solution to my problem when, in 1998, my youngest daughter met with missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who came to teach her at our home. She later accepted the gospel and was baptized. I attended her baptism at her invitation. Later, my eldest daughter joined the Church and she decided to serve a full-time mission.
I was not in favor of this idea but had to comply with it because I did not want to put myself in spiritual conflict with God.
Seeing the positive impact of the Church on the lives of my daughters, I urged my two other children and my wife to leave their congregation and be baptized in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
As for me, I began to take missionary lessons and to attend church intermittently because my addictions to alcohol and tobacco were a heavy burden.
I was not ready for baptism and asked for God’s help by seeking through the scriptures to find a way to put an end to this addiction.
This is how I read Doctrine and Covenants 89:18–21, “And all saints who remember to keep and do these sayings, walking in obedience to the commandments, shall receive health in their navel and marrow to their bones.
“And shall find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures;
“And shall run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint.
“And I, the Lord, give unto them a promise, that the destroying angel shall pass by them, as the children of Israel, and not slay them. Amen”.
Miraculously, I stopped drinking alcohol and then stopped smoking. I was baptized a member of the Church in May 2002.
My life from that moment on changed radically to the astonishment of those around me. It was a true resurrection, a glimmer of hope for me and my family, so that my mother, who thought I was lost forever having seen me again, exclaimed with tears of joy in her eyes: “Truly your God whom you pray to now is strong.”
Obviously, God remains the same. Very quickly I began to study the Book of Mormon and especially the Guide to the Scriptures. The history of Ezra has helped me to increase my witness of the Church.
But then I had to face another test: the reluctance of my eldest son to join the restored Church so that the circle would be complete.
I resolved once again to resort to prayer and patience for a few years before my son finally agreed to join our congregation.
After my baptism, I served in many callings. I am currently serving as the stake president. Two of my grandchildren have just served a full-time mission.
I reflect on my life. When we want a real change of heart, it happens according to the commandments of and obedience to the Lord.

We live in a state of constant motion. Even when we’re asleep, our hearts keep pumping. Our lungs pull air in and push it out. Our brains and nerves send and receive tiny signals. The very atoms and molecules that compose our bodies whir and spin.
Sometimes we think we achieve a condition called “standing still.” But as we stand, the wind brushes by us, the clouds roll overhead, and rays of sunlight complete a journey that began millions of miles away.
Even our earth is constantly moving. It not only rotates; it orbits at incredible speed. With other planets and moons, it rushes through darkness pursuing the sun, part of a galaxy of stars chasing stars chasing other galaxies in a never-ending symphony of light.
Heading in the right direction, at the right speed. That could have been the title of the morning session of the youth conference in Vancouver, British Columbia. But “Youth in Motion, Youth in Touch” was what was printed on the program.
Teenagers, you would think, should be experts on motion. Even now, as they queue up for lunch, they can’t stop moving. To pass the time, one young man captures and releases a yo-yo as it drops and climbs on its string. Another juggles oranges, while some of the young women race each other across the lawn.
“A world in frantic motion will look to you,” Vancouver British Columbia South Stake President Richard C. Bulpitt told them in his talk. And Bryce Winkle, a seminary teacher from Portland, Oregon, and his wife, Barbara, warned that “you will face some of the most important decisions of your life in the next five to ten years—mission, marriage, school, career—it all rushes by real fast.”
For lunch, it’s hoagies and chips, which like most things Canadian have French names, too. (The sandwiches are called “sous-marines,” and on one side of the package the Old Dutch, vinegar-and-oil flavored potato chips are labeled “croustilles.”)
But as the youth sit and talk, something interesting is happening. Prompted perhaps by the speeches of the morning, the conversations center around the theme of the conference. The young people are talking about motion—about moving in a positive direction with school, with mission preparation, with career planning, with life.
The afternoon is spent in workshops. But what workshops! In one room an airline inspector’s black light makes cracks in metal glow. In another area, an attorney in courtroom attire discusses his career. An advertiser hands out free food and hats. A marine biologist has plant specimens spread over a table for everyone to see. A computer expert encourages experiments on monitors and keyboards. An architect lectures to a standing-room-only group in the high council room. There are representatives from the media, from education, medicine, dentistry, business, public service, veterinary medicine, and more.
In the evening, there will be an amateur talent night featuring songs, skits, serious readings, and corny jokes. It will loosen people up and help them get acquainted. But already people are in touch, sharing their ideas and friendship, in the serious moments sharing gospel truths.
Not far from here, Vancouver City is hosting Expo 86, a fair for all the world. The theme is “World in Motion, World in Touch.” There are rides and exhibits, films and productions, hundreds of things to do and see. But you wouldn’t know by looking at these young people that that’s where they will be tomorrow. By all indications, the youth conference they’re at right now is the greatest thing in the world, the place of all places where they would choose to be.
Color communicates. Color becomes motion, blending and blurring into a vision of purple, yellow, orange, and green. Crimson banners, alive in the fiery sun. Deep blue skies, pierced with white sails. The bright red of a Mounty’s coat or the blazers of a bagpipe band. Oriental dragon boats, spotted with yellow and green. The hot pink hat of a man building boats. The silver blur of a monorail train or a fan of water flattened by a child’s hand. The lonely tan of a wooden mountain, climbed and reclimbed by an alpine club. Big bold balloons. The flat gray of an undulating highway, its vehicles painted the same color in the name of sculpture. Fireworks crackling, loud and pink and white, as motion, sound, and color become one.
These are the sights of Expo. These, and people. Mimes with painted faces working crowds for a laugh. Pirates ready to sail the sea. Jugglers balancing coat hangers and bowling pins. Children laughing out loud. Adults in line, tired of standing. A man in a turban, nodding his head. High-kicking folk dancers spinning plaid skirts. People talking, laughing, listening, learning. Vancouver sent out invitations, and the world came in return.
“Who are all you kids in the white shirts?” the lady said. And the answers came from a group.
“We’re Latter-day Saints.”
“Mormons.”
“Here for our youth conference.”
“Great fair, isn’t it? See you later. Have fun.”
The conversations weren’t heavy. But people were curious about all the teenagers wearing identical shirts. It was a great way to subtly share the gospel.
Throughout the day at Expo, however, there were also gospel discussions of another kind—members of the Church talking to fellow members, sharing with each other small bits of their lives.
“I have a huge church (of another faith) practically in my backyard,” said Travis Wolsey, 14. “When my friends find out I’m religious, they say, ‘Is this the one you go to?’ I say, ‘No, I go down to Richmond.’ ‘You’re crazy! That’s a 20-minute drive!’ But it gets them talking, wondering why I’m willing to go that far just to go to church.”
Rob Reid, 15, of Walnut Grove, said, “The Church is growing fast here. Last year they divided our ward, and now they’re ready to split again. But my friends at school still don’t understand. They hear me talk about getting up at 5:20 to go to seminary. They say they go to church on Sunday, but I go six days a week. Isn’t that a bit much?”
“I play lots of league sports, but I won’t play on Sunday,” Travis continued. “So I always need to explain about the Sabbath. I tell them that on Sunday we rest, avoid stressful activity, and take time to think of peaceful things. Most of them are working hard, and they say they wish they could have a Sabbath, too.”
“Some of the guys on the football team thought my habits were funny,” said John Van Rijswijck of Richmond. “So I just told them, ‘Yeah, I’m proud of it, and I’ll talk to you about it anytime you want me to.’ One of the girls at school came by our house, and she saw a certificate hanging on the wall that said I’d been ordained a priest. She really wanted to know about that.”
Others talked about life in the smaller branches.
“There’s one big advantage of living where I come from,” said Renata Koller, 14, of Smithers, a logging town. “If you get mad you can just walk outside and scream at all the trees.” There are only about 30 people in her branch, and just seven teenagers. Still, Smithers came in first overall in a recent scripture chase. “We have a great seminary program. Class starts at 6:15 A.M. I get up every day at 5:00 and walk a mile and a half to the house where we meet. On my way there I’ve seen a fox, a wolf, and two bears.”
“For the size of branch we’re in, we have a good youth program,” said Angelina Schafer, 16, of Quesnel. “There are about 25 kids.”
Shayne Olsen, 18, of the same branch, agreed. “At her school there are about four members out of 300 students. At mine, there are ten out of 700, and the bishop and his first counselor are teachers there. We’re not that large a group, but we stick together, and when you stick together it’s easier to be strong.”
“We have lumber and sawmills, gorgeous mountains, and excellent fishing,” said Floyd Brown, 18, of the Hazelton Branch. “We also have two Aaronic Priesthood holders out of 14 members who come to church. But we get to really use our priesthood. Each Sunday I say two or three prayers, help with the music, or give a talk.” Floyd, who has started work at 4:00 A.M. daily in the sawmills since he was in grade five, plans to go to dentistry school. But first, he’s getting ready for a mission.
“I’m on my third reading of the Book of Mormon,” he says with a smile.
The next morning, the youth are back at the meetinghouse again for another session of workshops and talks. They spend the third day of the conference discussing dating, relationships, and the high priority of being brothers and sisters in the gospel. In the afternoon, they converge on the chapel for what many will consider the culmination of three of the greatest days in their lives—a testimony meeting where youth after youth tells of victories and trials, of the joys and struggles of drawing nearer to Christ.
Later, everyone gathers for a group photo. Then, in the evening, there’s a dance. Some of the young people, however, take a break from the dancing. It seems natural for the group from Abbotsford to sit and talk. Maybe they’re evaluating the conference they’ve just been through. Maybe they’re just sharing, talking about life.
Taylor Strong, tall and thin, has a warm, happy wit and a quick smile. He seems to be their ringleader in righteousness.
He talks about his school. “We’re only five Mormons, out of 1,500 students. It’s kind of hard when lots of your friends don’t have the same morals. But once they get to know the person inside, really well, then they understand your standards; they respect you. People would like to know what you believe. Inside, a lot of them are lonely.”
He talks about his friend Mark, who was baptized last week. “Once you’re able to speak to your friends, that’s what happens. When you can express what you feel, one on one, with the Spirit, then the truth comes out.”
A young man named Jeff, a nonmember who came with the Abbotsford youth as a guest to the conference, starts to talk.
“When I first met Taylor,” he says, “I didn’t know what to think. I had heard he belonged to a cult. But I’d seen his family and met his friends, and I had to say, ‘How can that be a cult?’ The more I’ve been around his family, the more it’s changed my life. Example is so important. If Taylor hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have heard about the Church except from people who don’t know about it. Now, hopefully, I’m going to become a member this month.”
In another corner of the building, some young women from the Prince George Branch are talking about the theme of the conference, “Youth in Motion, Youth in Touch.”
“Sure, we’re in motion,” says Heidi Towers, 17. “We’re in the world but not of it. We’re in touch with Heavenly Father, so we know what it’s all about.”
“The Church is about continually progressing,” her twin sister Leanne responds. “It’s about moving forward, toward a celestial way of life.”
There’s another kind of motion, too, a motion more powerful than roaring winds or the pulling of the tides. It starts quietly, gently, deep down, far inside. Subtly at first, then powerfully, it tugs on the soul, awakening a sense of what is right.
Given room it gains momentum, turning us toward the light. lt impels us to bear testimony, to press forward, to serve the Lord with all our might. Like a great magnet, it draws us toward the truth and the truth toward us.
The scriptures have a name for this kind of motion. They call it “a mighty change of heart” (see Alma 5:12–14).
It’s Friday morning, July 4, 1986. The rushing and packing are finished. The handshakes are over; the hugging is done. The cars are leaving, and the buses are rolling out. With themselves, with the gospel, with their Father in Heaven—the youth of Vancouver, constantly in motion, have also shown how much they are in touch.

On October 28, 2000, I moved into a home behind a Latter-day Saint meetinghouse. While putting my things away that night, I noticed activity in the building. Not accustomed to so much noise in the evening, I was upset at first. Then a woman from the Church came over and invited me to their activity that night. Since I was a member of another faith, I declined and said that I did not want to mix up my beliefs. During the activity I heard the Church members singing hymns, and I found the music very beautiful.
On Sunday I got up early and went to my church, but when I returned home, I saw that the meetinghouse was full of people, and I again heard the hymns. The music was so pretty, and I could feel something touch me deep in my heart. People were in the church again in the afternoon. This time I turned off the television and paid attention to their music.
As they sang I stood at the window. I felt something special, a great peace within my heart. I wanted to go out to the garden to feel closer to them. My emotions were so great that I started to cry.
My daughter and I walked outside. A gentleman came out of the church, looked at me, and invited us to attend a baptism. At first I refused, but then I felt I should go in. I called to my daughter, but she would not go. Even so, I did not resist. My daughter finally came too, and we attended the baptism. I was moved and felt the Spirit touch me. On December 10, 2000, my daughter and I were baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
The hymns changed my life. I was a profoundly sad person, and now I am happy. I am grateful for the hymns that praise and express love to the Lord. They helped bring me to baptism.
Carmelinda Pereira da Silva, Brazil

Although not very active in the Church when I was 14, I was invited to attend seminary. By divine design, the Lord blessed me with a simple but profound answer to a prayer only a couple of days earlier and I was prepared to accept the invitation. That year, we studied the Book of Mormon. Through the support of a loving teacher and my classmates, I accepted the invitation to read the Book of Mormon during the year. More importantly, I accepted the prophet Moroni’s invitation to ask God if the book was true. (See Moroni 10:3–5.)
Shortly after starting seminary, I approached my Father in Heaven again, with a sincere heart and real intent, wanting to know for myself if the Book of Mormon was true, and whether Joseph Smith had translated it by the gift and power of God as he had claimed. That same feeling I’d experienced earlier washed over me. That feeling of pure love burned through me, and I knew—absolutely knew—that the Book of Mormon was the word of God.
Simultaneously, I knew that because the Book of Mormon was true, Jesus Christ was my Saviour, Joseph Smith was His prophet, foreordained to restore the Lord’s true Church on this earth, and that a living prophet on the earth gave counsel and guidance that I needed to follow as I tried to live the commandments and standards of the Church. Those were profound things to know as a 14-year-old boy.
That knowledge changed me. I wanted to be good. I wanted to do the right things, and when I made mistakes, I felt sorry for what I had done, I repented, and relied on the Lord to help me to do better. My faith in Jesus Christ grew daily through my strengthening testimony and understanding of the teachings in the Book of Mormon.

As bishop, President Monson learned the importance of obeying the Spirit. After failing to act on a prompting to visit an elderly ward member in the hospital, he was devastated to discover that the ward member had died calling his name. In that moment, he promised God he would always follow the Spirit, wherever it led him.1 Because of his obedience, he was a blessing and a miracle in the lives of many.

One mother did her best to teach the steps of repentance in her home. Then came the day she helped her five-year-old son internalize the principles when she accompanied him to the store to account for a candy bar he had stolen. That experience is one the boy will never forget. He learned firsthand about taking responsibility for his actions. With fear in his heart, he returned the candy bar, offered an apology to the store manager, and promised never to steal again. I am pleased to report that he has kept that promise. I know—because I was the mother, and my son was the five-year-old.

The Granja Viana Ward in the São Paulo Brazil Cotia Stake had a high activity rate among its young men. But their leaders noticed that some of them were facing personal challenges and having difficulty fulfilling their priesthood duties.
After the bishopric and Young Men leaders counseled together, they decided to focus more of their activities on service and not as many on entertainment or amusement. This included visiting less-active quorum members, participating in proselyting with the full-time missionaries, and administering the sacrament to homebound ward members. These activities gave the young men an opportunity to act on the principles they were learning in seminary and on Sundays (see 2 Nephi 2:26).
Over time, “these spiritual activities made all the difference,” reports one priesthood leader.
“We were amazed when on a particular fast Sunday, all of our young men bore their testimonies,” he says. “As they did so, many of them recalled in tears the good spirit they had felt on those occasions. One young man shared the experience of administering the sacrament to an older member of our ward who has been bedridden for three years. His wife, a faithful sister, received our young men with joy and hope. After the ordinance, she shared with them the happiness she feels in her life because of the gospel despite the huge problems and challenges she faces. They felt the Spirit and realized the difference the gospel makes in people’s lives. This experience was so powerful that they will recall it for years to come—perhaps for their entire lives.”
He notes that he had never seen that kind of response from any “football game or funny Mutual night.” Rather, he says, the experience taught him the importance of promoting the kinds of experiences in which youth can feel the Spirit.
“Social activities are important,” he continues. “But spiritual experiences are critical in helping youth build their own testimonies.”

Here I am, I thought, three months away from my mission and I don’t even know how to feel the Spirit.
The truth was that I had been a member of the Church for my entire life, and I could never recall a time when I was certain that I had felt the Spirit. I had a firm testimony of the Savior and the prophet, but somehow I didn’t know what the Spirit felt like.
So there I sat in Brother Durrant’s missionary preparation class, as confused as ever. “It’s the Spirit that counts,” he quoted President Benson. Brother Durrant then began to speak of great missionaries like Alma and Ammon, who were successful in their work because they followed the Spirit.
How can I be a great missionary? I thought. I don’t even understand the Spirit. I continued to listen intently, desperately hoping that Brother Durrant could answer my question. I silently prayed that he could relate to me just one important piece of wisdom—how the Spirit felt.
Then my answer came, and not just from the teacher. It didn’t come like an electric shock, and it didn’t come like fire. But my answer did come, with its own gentle feeling only the Lord was capable of giving me. It came when my teacher stopped speaking about Alma and said softly, “I feel the Spirit so much. It makes me so happy. That’s when I know I feel the Spirit, when I’m happy and I know God loves me.”
As I thought about those simple words, I felt all of the confusion settle into a sense of understanding. My chest didn’t roar with fire and vigor, and my limbs didn’t sink without strength. Instead, I felt a calm peace inside, and I realized that whenever I had felt warm inside while singing a hymn in church, I had felt the Spirit. Whenever I felt good after a service project, I had felt the Spirit. And when I had walked out of a Church class feeling peaceful and happy, I had felt the Spirit. The feelings that I was searching for were often there, but I just didn’t know what they were. I had expected the Lord to present to me, in grand spectacle, an instant testimony of his power. Instead, he was gently guiding me to find out for myself.
I have learned that I must make an effort to understand the Spirit and invite that influence into my life. Now, whenever I read the stories of Alma the Younger or King Lamoni, I no longer doubt the power that influenced them. Although I have never felt the dramatic spiritual transformation that Alma did, I now know that the Spirit manifests itself in many different facets and that the Lord communicates with his children in various ways. The feelings of the Spirit are always there if I am trying to live worthily and if I truly seek them.

Hi! My name is Avehei. I live in Tahiti! On my island, I love to be outside. I go on hikes and swim in the river or ocean. I also enjoy doing things with my family. I like to cook, play card games, and hike. I love to play ball and climb trees with my brother and cousins.
During summer break, I work with my brother in a coconut grove. We gather coconuts and put them in a big pile. We also gather dead leaves so the grove stays clean.
Our great-grandfather pays us when we work in the grove. I always pay my tithing with the money I receive. I learned from my family and Primary teachers how to pay tithing.
I pay tithing because I know that my family and I are blessed when I obey. I am blessed with my family, a house, and a beautiful world around me.
I know that God lives and that He loves me. I thank Heavenly Father for the family He gave me.

A few years ago, a young man who was starting his senior year in high school resolved to nourish himself by studying the scriptures for half an hour each day. As he began reading the New Testament, he hit a stumbling block. He didn’t feel the anticipated spiritual high, and he wasn’t getting any insight. So he asked himself, “What am I doing wrong?” Then an episode at school came into his mind. He and some friends had been sharing jokes—some of which were not so funny, and downright shameful. He not only had joined in but had even added some off-color comments of his own. Just as he thought this, his eye fell on these words in Matthew: “But I say unto you, That every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment.” He knew that the Spirit had directed him to these words at this time. He turned from his Bible and offered up a prayer of repentance.
The answer to his question “What am I doing wrong?” was simple. He was reading the scriptures, marking the scriptures, and even enjoying the scriptures, but he was not living the counsel given in the scriptures. As he renewed his scripture reading and tried to live by Christ’s example, he soon noticed how different areas of his life began to blossom. By incorporating the scriptures into his life, he had added an important spiritual nutrient.