Gospel Story Finder

Dr. Gustov Eckstein, one of the world’s renowned ornithologists, worked in the same laboratory for over twenty-five years. He bred and crossbred species of birds. He kept meticulous records on the varieties and hybrids of birds in his laboratory. Each day when he would enter his laboratory he would go down two or three stairs to the stereo. He would put on classical music and turn the volume up very loud. Then he would go about his work. The birds would sing along with the classical music. At the end of the day, about 5:30 p.m., he would turn off the stereo and leave for home.
After twenty-five years he had to hire a new custodian. After Dr. Eckstein left the laboratory, the new custodian thought the place should be aired out, so he opened all the windows.
The next morning when Dr. Eckstein went into his laboratory he saw the open windows and noted that every bird had flown out during the night. He was devastated, his life’s work ruined. By sort of habit or instinct, he went to the stereo and turned the classical music up very loud. Then he went and sat down on the steps, put his head in his hands, and wept.
The strains of music carried out through the open windows, through the trees, and down the streets. In a few moments Dr. Eckstein heard a fluttering of wings. He looked up and saw that the birds were beginning to come back into the laboratory through the open windows.
Dr. Eckstein said, “And every bird came back!”

Many years ago while serving in the United States Infantry in the South Pacific, my outfit was making a dry run on a seemingly deserted beach in the Admiralty Islands.
When my particular unit went ashore and scattered around on patrol, we came by chance upon a small native village. I will never forget one of the most interesting sights I have ever seen. All of the natives who appeared on the scene had dyed, reddish-orange hair, and every man, woman, and child—in fact, every living creature that I could see: dogs, animals of all sorts—wore a string of large green beads to the end of which were fastened three tiny shells. We learned upon inquiry from a Baptist minister who had labored amongst these natives that these beaded ornaments were used to ward off the bad results of an “evil eye” and bring good luck to the person or animal that wore it.
In this strange little village so far removed from our own culture it was believed that bad luck, sometimes even death, would follow if a mere glance from the evil eye of an enemy fell upon a person or animal. Hence, practically all of the animals and people wore such a string of beads as I have mentioned.

“Hey, Paul,” Joshua’s sunny voice came over the telephone. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
Joshua paused. “Why aren’t you at church? Is something wrong?”
“No. I didn’t feel like getting up.”
“Well, do you want to come? My parents could come get you.”
There was a determined edge to Paul’s voice. “I’ve already missed sacrament meeting and part of Sunday School. I just need some time to relax, and it doesn’t really matter to anyone if I come or not. Maybe I’ll come some other time.”
“You could still come to teachers quorum today,” Joshua persisted. “Hey, we want you here. What’s the deal?”
“My mother says I’m old enough that if I don’t want to go to church I don’t have to.”
“So what do you do instead?”
“I don’t know. Watch TV, stuff like that. Sleep.” Paul laughed apologetically.
“Brother Powell says to tell you we’re going to have a really good lesson.”
“Oh. Did he make you call me?”
“No, no, I told him I was going to call you.”
Paul was quiet. “Why did you call me?” he asked finally.
“Well, ’cause I worry about you when you’re not at church. I wonder if you’re okay. You used to come all the time, till a couple of weeks ago.” His voice trailed off. “It’ll be a really cool lesson. I saw all this stuff that Brother Powell’s gonna show us. Want me to send someone to come get you?”
“Oh, I can just come on my bike, I guess.”
“You sure?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, see you in a few minutes.”

During World War II, in the early part of 1944, an experience involving the priesthood took place [and] was related by a correspondent—not a member of the Church—who worked for a newspaper in Hawaii. … He and other correspondents were in the second wave behind the marines at Kwajalein Atoll. As they advanced, they noticed a young marine floating facedown in the water, obviously badly wounded. The shallow water around him was red with his blood. And then they noticed another marine moving toward his wounded comrade. The second marine was also wounded, with his left arm hanging helplessly by his side. He lifted up the head of the one who was floating in the water in order to keep him from drowning. In a panicky voice he called for help. The correspondents looked again at the boy he was supporting and called back, “Son, there is nothing anyone can do for this boy.”
“Then,” wrote the correspondent, “I saw something that I had never seen before.” This boy, badly wounded himself, made his way to the shore with the seemingly lifeless body of his fellow marine. He “put the head of his companion on his knee. … What a picture that was—these two mortally wounded boys—both … clean, wonderful-looking young men, even in their distressing situation. And the one boy bowed his head over the other and said, ‘I command you, in the name of Jesus Christ and by the power of the priesthood, to remain alive until I can get medical help.’” The correspondent concluded his article: “The three of us [the two marines and I] are here in the hospital. The doctors don’t know [how they made it alive], but I know.”
President Thomas S. Monson, “Willing and Worthy to Serve,” Liahona and Ensign, May 2012, 67, 68.

Frans and his family were part of a small group from Soweto who had embraced the restored gospel during the 1970s. At first they attended the Johannesburg Ward. Frans’s son Jonas remembered getting up on Sundays at 4:00 a.m. so the family could catch an early train into Johannesburg and then make the long walk to the chapel before the services started at 9:00 a.m. The family was always early—though sometimes it was difficult for the children to stay awake through Primary!

Yet a disquieting feeling persisted. This was a “one-man church,” entirely centered on the leader’s doctrines and directives. I was sent out to start congregations, but something inside me resisted. I could not move forward unless I knew, without doubt, that God Himself was directing me, not just a man. I stayed in my role, waiting for a clarity that never came in that place.
A professional crossroads coincided with this spiritual searching. My security company, impressed with my skills, was placing me at a new contract with Sankofa Spices, with a promise of a permanent, high-paying position as a security coordinator. I was ready to accept. Then, my friend, the operations manager, mentioned a temporary opening at the “Latter-day Saints” mission office. The pay was less than half of what Sankofa offered, so I wasn’t interested. But when the Sankofa start date was delayed, I agreed to fill in for two weeks. It was a decision that would alter the course of my life.

My faith in a living prophet began in Primary and continued with me into my growing-up years. I had a testimony that we have prophets, but I hadn’t thought about what it meant to sustain the prophets.
In general conference in October 1994, Elder David B. Haight said: “When we sustain the President of the Church by our uplifted hand, it not only signifies that we acknowledge before God that he is the rightful possessor of all the priesthood keys; it means that we covenant with God that we will abide by the direction and the counsel that comes through His prophet. It is a solemn covenant” (Ensign, Nov. 1994, 14–15).
I pondered the words of Elder Haight. I considered the commitment I was making when I raised my hand and made a solemn covenant with God that I would sustain the prophet.
The following April, the members of the Church sustained President Gordon B. Hinckley as prophet, seer, and revelator and President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, with President Thomas S. Monson and President James E. Faust as his counselors. I watched the young women when, for the first time in history, you were asked to stand as a separate group; and I asked myself, “Do the young women know what it means to sustain?”
President Hinckley said at that conference: “The procedure of sustaining is much more than a ritualistic raising of the hand. It is a commitment to uphold, to support, to assist those who have been selected” (Ensign, May 1995, 51). When we sustain, it affects our behavior. President Hinckley also quoted the Doctrine and Covenants, section 107, verse 22, where we are told that the First Presidency, or “three Presiding High Priests,” are “appointed and ordained to that office, and upheld by the confidence, faith, and prayer of the church.”
I often discuss our theme with young women and ask what it means to them to “stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places” (Mosiah 18:9; quoted in Personal Progress [booklet, 1990], 6). I believe it means that we show by our behavior what we believe. Surely we are standing as witnesses of God when we sustain his living prophets, especially when we know what it means to sustain. We will abide by the direction and counsel of the prophets. We indeed become witnesses when we make this solemn covenant.
As a young child, I believed we had a prophet and that he spoke the truth; but I’m not sure I understood that the prophet was speaking to me personally. When I was a young wife and mother, my husband spent two years in the air force. We lived in military housing on Long Island, New York. While tending our young children, I often visited with neighbors who had come from all over the country. One day as a neighbor and I were talking about our beliefs, she became curious about what was different about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
I told her briefly about the Restoration, and I explained that the restored Church of Jesus Christ has a living prophet today. This really seemed to pique her interest, and she wanted to know what the prophet had said. As I started to tell her about the Doctrine and Covenants and modern revelation, she said, “But what has he said lately?” I told her about general conference and that the Church had a monthly publication with a message from the prophet. Then she got really interested. I was so embarrassed to admit that I hadn’t read the current message. She concluded our conversation by saying, “You mean you have a living prophet and you don’t know what he said?” In that situation I hadn’t shown what it meant to sustain.
I’ll suggest another way to think of the word sustain. When you play a violin, if it is in tune you can move the bow across one string and the other strings vibrate. The harmonious strings not only help sustain the sound, but they enlarge and carry the sound.
As each of us listens to the prophet and responds to his message, if we are in tune we can carry his message with us. Others will feel the prophet’s message because of the way we act. In this way the message doesn’t end tonight—it just begins. Isn’t that exciting to think about? We can make his message be a force for good in our own lives, but also in our homes, in our neighborhoods, and at school.
When the prophets speak to us, it is as if our Heavenly Father is speaking to us. In the first section of the Doctrine and Covenants, verse 38, it states, “Whether by mine own voice or by the voice of my servants, it is the same.”
Fortunately, in this day of satellites and modern technology we can see and hear the prophet. We can read and reread his messages. This blessing is not yet available to many young women in distant lands. This is a sacred night for those of us who have gathered to hear President Hinckley’s message for young women.
Tonight, as President Gordon B. Hinckley has a message for each one of us, we as young women, mothers, and leaders want him to know that we have a message for him and his counselors, President Monson and President Faust. We sustain you. We know what it means to sustain: we will abide by the direction and counsel you give us. We will uphold you by our confidence, faith, and prayers. In general conference next week, as we young women and leaders raise our hands to sustain the living prophets, we understand that we are making a solemn covenant. We know as we follow the counsel and direction of the living prophets, we will be better prepared to “make and keep sacred covenants, receive the ordinances of the temple, and enjoy the blessings of exaltation” (Personal Progress, 6).
It is my prayer that we will show by our behavior that we are a covenant people, that we sustain the living prophets. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

A wonderful missionary in Australia, Elder QaQa from Fiji, shared a similar feeling in his departing testimony: “I know that God loves me, but sometimes I wonder, ‘Does God know that I love Him?’ Because I’m not perfect, and I still make mistakes.”
In that one tender, haunting question, Elder QaQa summed up exactly what I’ve often worried about. Maybe you’re wondering too, thinking, “I’m trying so hard, but does God know I’m really trying? When I keep falling short, does God know I still love Him?”

It saddens me to admit this, but I used to measure my relationship with the Savior by how perfectly I was living. I thought an obedient life meant I would never need to repent. And when I made mistakes, which was every single day, I distanced myself from God, thinking, “He must be so disappointed in me.”
That’s just not true.
I’ve learned that if you wait until you’re clean enough or perfect enough to go to the Savior, you’ve missed the whole point!
What if we thought about commandments and obedience in a different way?
I testify that while God cares about our mistakes, He cares more about what happens after we make a mistake. Are we going to turn to Him again and again? Are we going to stay in this covenant relationship?
Maybe you hear the Lord’s words “If [you] love me, keep my commandments” and feel deflated because you haven’t kept all the commandments. Let me remind you that it is also a commandment to repent! In fact, it might be the most repeated commandment in the scriptures.
In Alma’s soliloquy, “O that I were an angel, and could have the wish of [my] heart … and cry repentance,” he wasn’t trying to shame us by pointing out our mistakes. He wanted to cry repentance so that you and I could avoid suffering in the world. One reason Alma hated sin is because it causes us pain.
Sometimes I have to remember, like a Post-it note on my forehead, that the commandments are the path away from pain. And repentance is too. Our prophet said, “The Savior loves us always but especially when we repent.”
So when the Lord says, “Repent ye, repent ye,” what if you imagined Him saying, “I love you. I love you.” Picture Him pleading with you to leave behind the behavior causing you pain, inviting you to step out of darkness and turn to His light.
In my daughter Carly’s ward, a new priest knelt to bless the sacrament, and instead of saying, “That they may do it in remembrance of the blood of thy Son,” he inadvertently said, “That they may do it in remembrance of the love of thy Son.” Tears filled Carly’s eyes as the truth of those words sank in.
Our Savior was willing to suffer the pain of His Atonement because He loves you. In fact, you are “the joy that was set before him” while He suffered.
The invitation to repent is an expression of God’s love.
Saying yes to that invitation is an expression of ours.
Picture your favorite image of Christ. Now imagine Him smiling brightly with joy each time you use His gift, because He is the “perfect brightness of hope.”
Yes, your repentance doesn’t burden Jesus Christ; it brightens His joy!
Let’s teach that!
Because repentance is our best news!
We don’t stay on the covenant path by never making a mistake. We stay on the path by repenting every day.
And when we’re repenting, God forgives without shaming us, comparing us to anyone else, or scolding us because this is the same thing we were repenting of last week.
He’s excited every time He sees us on our knees. He delights to forgive us because to Him we are delightful!
Don’t you just feel that’s true?
Then why is it so hard for us to believe?!
Satan, the great accuser and deceiver, uses shame to keep us from God. Shame is a darkness so heavy it feels that if you took it out of your body, it would have an actual weight or heft to it.
Shame is the voice that beats you up, saying, “What were you thinking?” “Do you ever get anything right?”
Shame doesn’t tell us we made a mistake; it tells us we are our mistakes. You may even hear, “Hide.” The adversary does everything in his power to keep the heaviness inside, telling us the cost is too high, that it will be easier if this stays in darkness, removing all hope.
Satan is the thief of hope.
And you need to hear this, so I’ll say these words out loud: You are not the voice in your head or the mistakes you have made. You may need to say that out loud too. Tell Satan, “Not today.” Put him behind you.
Feel that pull, the godly sorrow that turns you toward your Savior, and watch His grace enter into your life and the lives of those you love. I promise that the minute we bring a broken heart courageously toward Him, He is immediately there.
If you saw someone drowning, wouldn’t you reach your hand out and rescue them? Can you imagine your Savior rejecting your outstretched hand? I imagine Him diving into the water, descending below all things to lift us up so we can take a fresh breath! No one can sink lower than the light of Christ shines.
The Savior is forever brighter than the darkness of shame. He would never attack your worth. So watch closely.
Imagine that this hand represents worth.
This hand represents obedience. Maybe you woke up this morning, said a meaningful prayer, and searched the scriptures to hear God’s voice. You’ve made good decisions and are treating the people around you with Christlikeness. You’re listening to general conference! Your obedience is here!
Or maybe things haven’t gone so well. You’ve struggled lately to do those small, simple things to connect to heaven. You’ve made some decisions you aren’t proud of.
Where is your worth? Has this hand moved at all?
Your worth isn’t tied to obedience. Your worth is constant; it never changes. It was given to you by God, and there’s nothing you or anyone else can do to change it. Obedience brings blessings; that is true. But worth isn’t one of them. Your worth is always “great in the sight of God,” no matter where your decisions have taken you.
While I make mistakes, I want to stay in covenant relationship with Christ, and I’ll tell you why.
I grew up taking diving lessons and learned that when judges score a dive, they watch the execution. Was the entry perfectly vertical, with toes pointed and a small splash? Then they do something extraordinary. They factor in the degree of difficulty.
Everyone is diving with their own degree of difficulty. And your Savior is the only one who truly knows the difficulty you are diving with. I want a relationship with the one person who gets me, who knows my heart and how hard I’m trying!
He knows the mists of darkness are descending on all of us travelers and that our journey passes by the river of filth—so even when we’re holding to the iron rod, we’re going to get splashed.
Coming unto Christ is saying, “Will you help me?” with hope, a revealed assurance that His arms are extended to you always. I believe this fresh view of repentance means that even though we don’t have perfect obedience yet, we try affectionate obedience now, choosing to stay, again and again, because we love Him.
Remember King Benjamin’s people, who had no more disposition to do evil but only to do good continually? Do you think they packed up their tents, went home, and never made another mistake? Of course not! The difference is they no longer wanted to sin. They had affectionate obedience! Their hearts were turned and tuned to God while they struggled!
Once, at the beach, I saw a bird flying into the wind, flapping its wings so hard, almost frenetically, but staying in the same place. Then I noticed another bird, higher up. It had caught an updraft and was floating easily, unburdened in the wind. That’s the difference between trying to do this by ourselves and turning to our Savior, letting Him lift us, with “healing in his wings.”
As mission leaders in Australia, during our last visit with each missionary, we talked about 3 Nephi 17, where the people were close to the Savior and could hear Him praying for them. We asked, “If you could hear the Savior praying for you, what do you think He would say?”
To hear their answers was one of the most Spirit-filled experiences of my life. Every one of those missionaries would pause, and tears would fill their eyes as we reminded them, “Your Savior knows the degree of difficulty you’re experiencing. He’s felt it!”
This is what those missionaries quietly and tenderly shared: One sister said, “Jesus would tell the Father, ‘She’s doing her very best. I know how hard she is trying.’” An elder said, “With everything that’s happened in his life, I’m so proud of him.”
Let’s try this. Tonight, before you pray, imagine Jesus Christ close by. He is your Advocate with the Father. Ask yourself, “What would my Savior say to the Father about me?”
And then become silent.
Listen for that voice that says good things about you—the voice of the Savior, your finest friend, and your Father in Heaven, who is really there. Remember, Their love and your worth are always great, no matter what!
I stand here to witness that Jesus Christ gives light to those who sit in darkness. So, on those days when you feel that voice telling you to hide, that you should hide in a dark room all by yourself, I invite you to be brave and believe Christ! Walk over and turn on the Light—our Perfect Brightness of Hope.
Bathed in His light, you’ll see people all around you who have felt alone too, but now, with the light on, you and they will wonder, “Why were we so afraid in the dark? And why did we stay there so long?”
“May the Lord of Lights wrap you in His arms and console and love you continually.” May we love Him continually and choose Him, again and again. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

In my enthusiasm and excitement on my first day of service as a mission president, I asked the zone leaders I had invited to my home, “How much of a typical day in missionary service are you normally under the vibrating, powerful influence of the Spirit?”
They obviously did not know what to say. They acted like I had caught them by surprise. Having been converted to the Church as an adult and not having served as a young, full-time missionary, I assumed it was natural that a missionary would be always under the influence of the Spirit. How surprised I was when no missionary was saying anything.
Finally, one of them spoke up. “Last Thursday night, while we were teaching the Lehman family, we were feeling the Spirit.”
I remember my immediate response was, “That was it? How about the rest of the day?”
As soon as I asked my zone leaders what they experience when they are under the influence of the Spirit, they were all participating, describing the different effects the Spirit has in our lives. They agreed that being under the influence of the Spirit fills us with satisfying joy. It enhances our ability to make necessary adjustments, even in the most difficult circumstances. This Spirit helps us develop our intellectual capabilities and even delivers the motivation to use them. The zone leaders agreed that under the influence of the Spirit, some things that can seem uncomfortable, like hard work, getting up on time, going the extra mile, overcoming homesickness, overcoming flaws of character, and other personal sacrifices, become easier.
It became clear that, under the influence of the Spirit, we are empowered to act in wisdom. We see the complexity of a problem in its simple parts and see possible solutions unfolding in front of our eyes, to our own surprise. In other words, our creativity is developed and multiplied. That which is a burden without it becomes a privilege when we are under the influence of the Holy Spirit.
Many times in our lives it happens that the gifts of the Spirit rest dormant in us. We are not even aware of the full extent of their existence, as it was with my missionaries. Did they not have the Spirit? Of course they did. They had even passed the test of forsaking their own self-centered plans to become sacred witnesses for the Lord Jesus Christ. Still they had not fully understood the workings of the Spirit.
Why did the one elder feel the Spirit as he was teaching the Lehman family? Because at that time he and his companion were completely focused in their search for divine guidance. Too often we are not aware of the powerful gift which rests dormant in us. We cannot be grateful for that of which we are not aware, nor can we activate its power.

An experience I had some years ago emphasized this. A young woman approached me in a city far from my home and came under some pressure from her husband. She admitted to me that she had committed adultery. She was a bit hard and unyielding, and finally said: “I know what I have done. I have read the scriptures, and I know the consequences. I know that I am damned and can never be forgiven, and therefore why should I try now to repent?”
My reply to her was: “My dear sister, you do not know the scriptures. You do not know the power of God nor his goodness. You can be forgiven for this terrible sin, but it will take much sincere repentance to accomplish it.”
Then I quoted to her the cry of her Lord:
“Can a woman forget her suckling child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.” (Isa. 49:15.)
I reminded her of the Lord’s words in our dispensation to the effect that whoever repents and obeys God’s commandments will be forgiven. (See D&C 1:32.) My visitor looked bewildered but seemed to be yearning as though she wanted to believe it. I continued: “For all but the unpardonable sin forgiveness eventually will come to that transgressor who repents sorely enough, long enough, sincerely enough.”
She remonstrated again, though she was beginning to yield. She wanted so much to believe it. She said she had known all her life that adultery was unforgivable. And I turned again to the scriptures and read to her the oft-repeated statement of Jesus:
“All manner of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men: but the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost shall not be forgiven unto men.
“And whosoever speaketh a word against the Son of man, it shall be forgiven him: but whosoever speaketh against the Holy Ghost, it shall not be forgiven him, neither in this world, neither in the world to come.” (Matt. 12:31–32.)
She had forgotten that scripture. Her eyes lighted up. She reacted joyously to it, and asked, “Is that really true? Can I really be forgiven?”
Realizing that hope is the first requirement, I continued by reading many scriptures to her, to build up the hope that was now awakened within her.
On the occasion I am recalling, this woman, who was basically good, straightened up and looked me in the eye, and in her voice was a new power and resoluteness as she said: “Thank you, thank you! I believe you. I shall really repent and wash my filthy garments in the blood of the Lamb and obtain that forgiveness.”
Not long ago, she returned to my office a new person—bright of eye, light of step, full of hope as she declared to me that, since that memorable day when hope had seen a star and had clung to it, she had never reverted to her sin nor any approaches to it.

“People on my island have a strong bond to each other,” he explains. “The word ‘family’ is very important, and it drives me to help my own people.”
Eritai learned about hydroponic sustainability while attending Brigham Young University–Hawaii. He spent hundreds of hours developing that idea into a solution to take to his people.
In 2017, he returned to Kiribati and introduced innovative hydroponic gardening to families and communities in response to the challenges faced in accessing healthier food options. He explained that “it provided a healthy alternative to the processed foods that people were eating.”

I love being a missionary. It has brought so much joy to my life. But I have to tell the truth. Being in the mission field is tough, and since I’ve been here, I’ve been feeling a little inadequate. One day when I was feeling down, I picked up the June 2000 New Era special issue about missionary work, and I immediately felt the spirit of the MTC come back to me. The Spirit comforted me and gave me a great desire to serve. Having the Spirit, along with hard work, makes a missionary happy. Thanks for helping me when I felt a little down.
Elder Joshua LindsayArizona Tempe Mission

“What are you doing with my ball?” Rodney Sims growled at me as I stood under the huge sycamore tree at the park, admiring the new football I’d found on the grass. He stomped toward me, his face red and sweaty from playing ball in the sun.
I nodded at my friend Frank. “We were just riding past on our bikes and spotted it here. I figured somebody lost it.”
“Well, I left it here,” Rodney barked, snatching the ball from my hands and tucking it under his arm. “It isn’t lost, and I don’t want anybody stealing it.”
“I wasn’t trying to steal it,” I said, climbing back onto my bike. “It sure is a nice ball, though. If it were mine, I’d write my name on it so I wouldn’t lose it.”
“Hey, kid, you want to buy it?” Rodney’s tone was suddenly friendly. Surprised, I turned to face him. “I have another one.” He nodded at the guys who were still playing football. “If you like this one, I’ll sell it to you.”
I laid my bike down again and took the ball—it fit my hand perfectly. I had seen some just like it at a sporting goods store near my home. I had wanted a ball like this one, but it cost $10.
“I like it,” I said, gripping the ball tightly, cocking my arm and pretending to throw a pass. I shook my head and handed the ball back to Rodney. “But I don’t have $10.”
Rodney studied the ball as he rolled it in his hands. “I’ll sell it to you for $5.”
“Five dollars?”
“I have my other ball, so I don’t need this one, anyway.”
My mind began to race. I had $4 at home in my drawer, and I could borrow $1 from my little sister, Stephanie. I licked my lips and grabbed the ball again, searching for flaws. There were none.
“I’d have to go home for the money,” I explained, picking up my bike. “It will take me 15 or 20 minutes.”
“I’ll be here. But the price is $5. And no refunds or returns.”
I sped home so fast Frank had a hard time keeping up with me. Stephanie agreed to lend me $1. I snatched the other $4 from my drawer.
“You’d better think about this,” Frank warned as I crashed out the front door and leaped for my bike. He was still straddling his bike in the driveway.
“What do you mean, think about it? I’ll never get another deal like this! Five dollars, Frank, for a $10 ball! And if I bought it at the sporting goods store, I’d have to pay tax, too. I can’t pass this up.”
“Something’s not right, Joshua,” he cautioned me again. “Has Rodney ever been nice to you?” I thought a moment and shook my head. “So why’s he suddenly doing you this great big favor?”
“He has an extra football, and he doesn’t need it. I’m just helping him out,” I answered defensively.
“Something has to be wrong with the ball. Maybe it has a slow leak. Have you thought of that?”
“I checked the ball out, Frank. It’s brand new. Nothing’s wrong with it.”
“I wouldn’t buy it if I were you, Joshua.”
I stared at my friend. “You’re just jealous because he’s not selling it to you. I’m getting that ball before Rodney changes his mind.”
Rodney was waiting for me under the sycamore tree with one of his buddies. The others had left. He had the new ball and another one that was a bit scuffed up. I held the money out, and Rodney snatched it. As soon as he was sure it was all there, he handed me the football. “You just bought yourself a ball, kid.” He laughed and slapped his friend on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Holding the ball, I watched the two run off. They were smirking as they glanced over their shoulders in my direction. An uneasiness stirred inside me. I thought of Frank’s warning. Maybe there was something wrong with the ball. I tossed it around a bit. It felt good. I squeezed it to see if it was losing air. It seemed firm enough. If there was anything wrong with the ball, I sure couldn’t tell what it was.
For the next two days, my friends and I played with my new ball. It was everybody’s favorite. It didn’t have a slow leak, either. It was brand new, just like it looked. I kidded Frank about being worried and asked him if he wished he had come up with the $5. He shook his head, but I still figured he was jealous.
One afternoon as I sat on the front steps, tossing my ball in the air and catching it, he rode up on his bike, looking serious. “I found out something about your ball,” he said.
I grinned. “Are you still worried about this ball, Frank?”
Frank didn’t smile. “My brother Derek knows one of Rodney’s friends. According to him, Rodney stole that ball.”
“What do you mean stole it?”
“Rodney stole it from the sporting goods store. A couple of his friends covered for him, but he was the one who sneaked it out of the store. That’s why he wanted to sell it.”
It felt as if Frank had punched me in the stomach. I looked at the football. “Maybe this isn’t the same ball,” I argued, feeling myself get angry.
“Rodney stole a ball exactly like that one the same afternoon you bought it from him. This is the one, all right.”
“Well, I didn’t steal it,” I snapped at Frank. “I paid for it, so it isn’t my problem. And I didn’t know it was stolen when I bought it from Rodney. He’s the thief, not me.”
Frank shrugged and turned away. “I just figured you ought to know.”
I was angry at him for telling me about Rodney’s stealing, because I liked that ball and I wanted to keep it. “Are you going to tell anybody?” I shouted after him. He turned back and stared at me. Slowly he shook his head.
After he left, I put the ball away. When Stephanie asked me to play catch, I said no. I kept telling myself that the ball was mine, fair and square, and that I hadn’t done anything wrong. But I still didn’t feel good about having it. I didn’t even want to play with it anymore. And I sure didn’t want to tell Mom and Dad what Frank had said. They hadn’t been happy about my borrowing the dollar from Stephanie in the first place, but they had left it up to me.
The next day I went looking for Rodney. He was riding his bike over in the school parking lot with a couple of his buddies. Walking up to him, I handed him the football. “I want my $5 back!”
He looked at the ball and then at me. “I told you—no refunds and no returns. Besides, I’ve already spent most of the money. And,” he added, nodding down at the ball, “it doesn’t even look new, anymore.”
“You stole this ball,” I hissed.
The grin disappeared from his face. Jumping off his bike and letting it clatter to the pavement, he grabbed the front of my shirt and jerked me toward him. “Who told you that?”
“There are guys who know,” I rasped. “And I don’t want a stolen ball.”
“Don’t you go blabbing around that I stole that ball, kid, or you’re going to be in a bunch of trouble. Nobody can prove I stole it. Besides, it’s your ball. You paid for it.”
“I don’t want it now.”
“That’s your problem. If you don’t want it, throw it away.” He gave me a hard shove, climbed onto his bike, and rode off with his friends.
My feet dragged as I left the parking lot, carrying the football that had been such a prize. Now it was a cold, hard reminder of dishonesty. I saw the garbage dumpster in the corner of the parking lot. I considered throwing the ball away. But I couldn’t. I’d paid $5 for it, and I still owed Stephanie $1. I couldn’t just get rid of it.
I tried telling myself I hadn’t done anything wrong. I hadn’t known the ball was stolen when I bought it. I hadn’t been the one to take it. I had tried to give it back to Rodney. What else was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to lose my $5 because Rodney had done something wrong?
I shook my head. All my excuses wouldn’t make the sick, guilty feeling go away. I thought of the sporting goods store. I had always liked going there and looking around. Now every time I even passed by, I thought of the stolen football. And even though I hadn’t been the one to steal it, the store was still missing a ball. And I had it. I knew what Dad and Mom would say, and I knew I wouldn’t feel good again until I did it.
I walked home, climbed onto my bike, and rode downtown. It was tough walking into the store. I asked for the manager, Mr. Turley. One of the clerks took me to his office in the back of the store.
“Well, hello, Joshua,” Mr. Turley greeted me as I stepped into the office. “How can I help you?”
I set the football in the middle of his desk and stared at it. “This ball was stolen from your store,” I announced quietly. “I didn’t steal it, though,” I quickly added. I told him the whole story.
“So it’s not my ball,” I finally ended. “You might not want it, either, because it’s been used and I wrote my name on it with a black marker.”
Mr. Turley leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. For a long time he thought without saying anything. Finally he leaned forward and took the ball from his desk and rolled it around in his hands. “Joshua, first of all, I want you to know I’m happy that you had the courage to come in. I don’t expect that was very easy.” I shook my head without looking at him. “It’s not always easy to be completely honest. In this case, it cost you $5. And you weren’t even the one who stole the ball. But being honest is more important than this football or the money you spent to buy it.”
Mr. Turley smiled at me. “I’m going to try to make your being honest this time a little easier. I have some work around here that you could do to pay for the ball.”
“You mean I could keep it?”
Mr. Turley smiled. “You just be here tomorrow morning.” Grinning, I turned and started for the door, the sick, guilty feeling gone. “Hey, Joshua,” Mr. Turley called out. I turned. He laughed and threw me the ball. “You’d better take that with you, or someone might walk off with it.”

When I was in my final year of elementary school, all of the students went camping in Negros Occidental, Philippines, before our graduation. We pitched our tents at the campsite and had a good time exploring among the guava and mango trees. When night came, my parents came to check on me. They told me to be very careful, and then they left.
One of my classmates invited my friends and me to take a ride with him and his older cousin. His cousin drove us around, and we had fun until—to my surprise—my classmates brought out beer and cigarettes. We parked the car near the campsite, and they began to drink the beers and smoke in the car. They invited me to join them, but I refused.
I said I wouldn’t join in because smoking would shorten my lifespan. I also said that it is against my beliefs, because I have been taught the Word of Wisdom. I told them that the Word of Wisdom is a law that teaches that we should keep our bodies clean, because they are temples of God. I told them we must avoid smoking; drinking alcohol, tea, and coffee; and taking drugs. My best friend and I left the group and slept in our tent.
When I went home, I was happy to tell my dad that I had not joined my classmates but instead had taught them about the Word of Wisdom. I was happy the Holy Ghost was there to guide me and give me the courage to speak to my friends.
From this experience I learned that our obedience will be tested when we are on our own, without parents or others to support us. I feel grateful for the Word of Wisdom and am committed to obey it. When I am old enough, I will go on a mission and teach many people the importance of the Word of Wisdom.

I explained that Mom had joined the Church her freshman year while attending college in Missouri. In high school, she had had a high school teacher she respected. He was always kind to her and was a great example of the Savior’s love.
My mother found out he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When she left for college, she wanted to learn more about his religion.
We enjoyed a special moment as my mother explained the wonderful things life had brought her since she joined the Church—a temple wedding, missionary service by four of her eight children and many of her grandchildren, and numerous other blessings.

Through their tellings, I experienced that defining time when each received a sure witness and consecrated his life to the Lord.

LeGrand was fourteen when he heard two returned missionaries bear testimony in his ward. The Lord touched his heart with such power that, returning home, he knelt beside his bed and asked God to help him live worthy to be a missionary when old enough to go.

When the time came, he was on crutches and in pain. At Church headquarters he was told to go home until well. He said, “You book me and I’ll be ready!”

His father blessed him and he went—ailing in body, strong in spirit, but yet having to battle the Dutch language.

[As the play progresses, a new family enters town to join the United Order—Brother WILLIAM RUSSELL, an ailing widower, and his teenage daughter, CATHERINE ANN. The newcomers have just met BROTHER GARRISON, president of the Order. EZRA is also present.]
BROTHER RUSSELL: I wish we did have more to consecrate to the Order. But these two bags are all we own of the world. And this necklace of my daughter’s. It’s real gold.
CATHERINE ANN: Papa! No! You gave it to me when I turned sixteen. It’s mine!
PRESIDENT GARRISON: That’s all right, Miss Catherine Ann. Jewelry and keepsakes are not required. And we’ve never turned anybody away yet on account of poverty.
BROTHER RUSSELL: No, I couldn’t come and not bring something that’ll help. Please, Catherine Ann, for me?
[Slowly CATHERINE ANN takes off the necklace and gives it to her father, who hands it to PRESIDENT GARRISON.]
PRESIDENT GARRISON: When there are people starving in Orderville, we will sell this for food. Until then, I reckon we need somebody who can take very good care of it. Miss Catherine Ann, I’m asking you to be steward of this necklace.
CATHERINE ANN [taking it gratefully]: Thank you.
PRESIDENT GARRISON [smiling]: You’ll find that life here isn’t so bad as you’re expecting. If you put your heart into it, you’ll catch the vision of the Order and see it like we do.
CATHERINE ANN: To be honest, I just don’t see it at all. What’s wrong with living like—like regular folks?

This story happened in Aruba.
Henry slowly walked into the Primary room. His feet felt heavy as he reached his seat.
His teacher, Brother Rass, smiled at him. “Are you ready to talk about temples?” he asked.
“Yep,” Henry answered.
Why did I say that? Henry thought as he sat down. He didn’t feel ready. At all.
Henry’s Primary was learning the song “I Love to See the Temple.”* His class had been asked to talk about going to the temple.
But Henry felt sad. He wanted to go to the temple when he was old enough, but he felt like he made too many mistakes.
One by one, Henry’s friends stood up. They were happy and excited as they talked about going to the temple someday. Henry felt worse and worse.
Then it was time to sing. Henry sang along with the rest of the Primary: “I’ll prepare myself while I am young; this is my sacred duty.”
How can I prepare to go to the temple when I make so many mistakes? Henry thought. He slumped lower in his chair.
When the song ended, Brother Rass leaned over. “Are you OK?” he asked Henry.
Henry stared down at his hands. Then he said softly, “I want to go to the temple, but I’m afraid that I’m not worthy.” He took a big breath. “I don’t always get along with my family. I forget to do my chores. I make too many mistakes. Do I really have to be perfect?”
Brother Rass smiled gently. “Being worthy to go to the temple doesn’t mean you have to be perfect. We can be worthy by trusting Jesus Christ and sincerely trying to keep the commandments. We all make mistakes, but we can repent and be clean again.”
Henry sat up a little straighter.
“I’m sure Heavenly Father is proud of you for trying to be good,” said Brother Rass.
Henry thought about some of the good things he had done that week. He cooked dinner with Mom, helped his sister with her homework, and said hi to a new boy at school.
The weight of Henry’s worries began to lift. He knew the Holy Ghost was helping him feel peace.
When it was Henry’s turn to share, he smiled and stood up. “I want to keep repenting and becoming more like Jesus Christ so that one day I can enter the temple,” he said.
Henry felt happy as he sat down. One day, he would be able to make sacred covenants with God inside the temple. He wanted to try his best to prepare!

In May 2010, over 1,200 youth from eight stakes in British Columbia and the Bellingham Washington Stake gathered in Vancouver for a temple celebration marking the completion of the Vancouver British Columbia Temple.
The celebration, titled “A Beacon to the World,” highlighted the land, history, and people of British Columbia. Part of the celebration included the youth’s guiding 172 of the area’s oldest Church members down to the floor for recognition. After dancing and performing music for the program, the youth closed the program by joining hands and circling around a replica of the temple.
Sabrina Blackmore, 17, of the Blackmore Ward in the Prince George British Columbia Stake, rode 15 hours on a bus to participate in the event. “This is the best experience ever,” she said.

I have great respect for referees because they make many tough decisions which must be made in a split second and which are open to public view. But there are decisions in life that are much more important than those made by referees—decisions made in a slow, deliberate, prayerful, private manner. One such decision is whether or not to go on a mission. While I was growing up I had a desire to serve a mission. But when it finally came time to send in the papers, I was hesitant. The decision became filled with pressures. I didn’t know whether to leave after my freshman year, after my sophomore year, or after I had completed my college education. I fought with a multitude of inward thoughts and feelings. I also wondered if I had enough knowledge to go out there and give what was so precious to me to somebody else. I talked to a lot of people, and most of them willingly shared their opinions with me. Some said that I should go immediately, others said later, and some said I shouldn’t go at all. I wonder, if I had asked you, should I go now or later or not at all, what would you have told me?
Perhaps you would have been like one of our great priesthood leaders. I went to him, and we talked about my situation. He listened with patience and concern. After I expressed my feelings about being able to play basketball when I returned, he said, with words that sank deep into me, “Devin, if you serve a mission and serve faithfully, when you return you will be a better basketball player than you are now.”
I had great confidence in that man, and I felt that he was moved by the Spirit to say what he did. I felt he was talking to me personally and not to all athletes who serve missions, because each case is different. He could advise me, my parents could advise me, my friends could advise me, but they couldn’t serve for me. I was the one who was going, and no one else could make my decision. I had to make that myself.
In April of 1980 I entered the Missionary Training Center and began to learn Spanish to prepare to serve in Madrid, Spain. While in the MTC, I knew that I was doing the right thing. In my heart I wanted to someday return to play basketball. Yet at the same time I decided that even if I never played another game of collegiate ball I wouldn’t regret the decision that I had made.