Gospel Story Finder

When I first went to the temple, I was awestruck by the majesty of the Lord’s house. I felt clarity about who I was, why I was on earth, and where my path could lead me when I focused on Christ.
I had just been called to serve a mission in England, and I was excited to go through the temple before I left. I prepared beforehand by learning about temple ordinances and preparing myself to make covenants with the Lord.
Afterward, I knew I wanted to go there consistently throughout my life. And that decision influenced my desire to serve as an ordinance worker too.

Papa laid a bright pink bracelet on the dining room table.
“Oh, Papa,” I cried. “Where did you get it?”
“I found it on the sidewalk in front of the barber shop.”
I picked it up and carefully slid it onto my wrist. I felt so beautiful. I’d never, ever worn anything so pretty.
“Can I have it?”
“Would you want to keep it when it belongs to someone else?” Mama asked.
“But maybe we can’t find who it belongs to.”
“Well, if we can’t find the owner, then you may have it,” Papa said.
That night when I knelt to pray, I wanted to ask Heavenly Father to bless us so we couldn’t find the owner. But the words wouldn’t come out. I tried three times, but I just couldn’t feel good about saying it. So I climbed into bed and decided to pray later.
The next morning I hurried into the kitchen. “Can I wear the pink bracelet to school?”
“That’s a good idea,” Papa said. “Maybe one of your classmates will see it and know who it belongs to.”
I skipped to my room to pick the perfect dress to go with the bracelet. Then I had a scary thought. If someone recognized the bracelet, I’d have to give it back. So I picked a blue dress with long sleeves. I pushed the bracelet way up under my sleeve. I worked it clear up over my elbow and pushed it to the very top of my arm. No one would see it there.
Usually I liked school, but not that day. It was too warm for my long-sleeved dress, and wearing the bracelet way up on my arm was uncomfortable. At recess I didn’t feel like playing, so I stayed in.
When the bell rang for the end of recess, I hurried to the drinking fountain and bumped into Stella. I noticed she was wearing a string of beads that were exactly the same pearly pink as the bracelet on my arm. I caught my breath. “Oh, Stella, where did you get such pretty beads?”
“My aunt sent them to me. She sent me a bracelet too, but I lost it.”
“Where did you lose it?” I asked.
“On the way home yesterday. I searched all the way up and down the sidewalk both ways, but it’s gone. I hope one of my friends finds it.”
I didn’t know what to do now. It felt like the bracelet was making a rash on my arm to punish me for hiding it.
Back at my seat I realized why it had been hard to say my prayers last night. It was because I wasn’t being honest. But now, all I wanted was to give Stella her bracelet.
The classroom was buzzing like a beehive. It wasn’t a nice, quiet place like my bedroom, but all at once I wanted to pray. From deep down in my heart I told Heavenly Father how sorry I was. I asked Him to forgive me and to please help me do the right thing with the bracelet. I suddenly felt good inside, and I began to gently work the bracelet down my arm, past my elbow, and onto my wrist.
As we left the school building, I stepped alongside Stella and handed her the pink bracelet. “You found it!” She squealed and gave me a hug.
“You said you hoped a friend would find it for you.” I smiled. “Well, that friend just happened to be my papa.”

I didn’t know where to turn. After hearing my friends talk about a controversial issue in Church history, I did the first thing I could think of to find answers to my new questions. I searched the internet.
After reading online about this debated topic, I became very confused and even angry. Why had I never known about this? Was the Church trying to hide something? How was I supposed to know if what these people were writing was true or if it was made up?
I felt a lot of fear and uncertainty after reading so many conflicting views. It was scary to realize my faith was being tested. Without noticing it, I slowly withdrew myself from God. At a time when I should’ve been praying and reading my scriptures the most, I found myself constantly forgetting and then eventually avoiding these habits.
I was trying to discover truth without the help of God—and it wasn’t working.
One Sunday I was sitting in testimony meeting and had the strong impression to talk to one of my priesthood leaders about my concerns. After the meeting, I asked my leader if we could talk. It felt so good to finally talk about what was worrying me. I cried as I explained what I had been going through the past few months and my desire to understand the truth.
He patiently listened, and then offered me comfort and advice that immediately lifted a heavy burden from my shoulders; but the most valuable thing he taught me that day was how to respond when you are faced with concerns and doubts about Church history and doctrine.
His advice included some important principles that I developed into four tools any of us can use when we come across materials that seem to undermine our faith:
Don’t forget to continue to fast and pray for guidance, read the scriptures for revelation, attend church, and worship in the temple. Amidst confusion and doubt, it might sometimes seem like prayer and scripture study are tedious tasks, but they are your most valuable tools. Remember that God is the source of all truth; as you seek to be close to Him, you will be able to find the peace you are looking for.
If you ever feel overwhelmed by negative information and don’t know where to look next, don’t give up! Make sure your parents and Church leaders know what you are struggling with. They can help you find answers to your questions and guide you to reliable resources.
Church leaders have given us many resources to learn more about Church history, including those in the scriptures, the Gospel Topics essays found on ChurchofJesusChrist.org, the Joseph Smith Papers, and the Church’s official history books, Saints. When you know the facts and the Church’s official stance on controversial subjects, you will feel more confident when you’re confronted with opposition.
While there is a lot of information now available to us, some questions do not yet have answers. We need to “remember that although Heavenly Father has revealed all that is necessary for our salvation, He has not yet revealed all truth.”1 We must have the faith and humility to persevere until we receive a greater knowledge. God teaches us line upon line, and we can experience an increase of faith and hope in the future as we draw closer to Him.
I am so grateful for what I learned through my experience. It was scary and hard at times, but now I know how to search for truth with confidence. I also know that fear and doubt are not of God and don’t help me answer my questions (see Doctrine and Covenants 6:36). The accessibility of information on the internet makes it even more important to follow the counsel in Doctrine and Covenants 88:118: “Seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith.” As we search for truth in holy places, we can strengthen our testimonies and faithfully endure through trials.

Like other prospective missionaries, Lohran Saldanha Queiroz had to make a choice to serve a mission or not. But besides deciding whether to give up school, work, family, and friends for two years, Lohran had another tough choice: serve a mission or have the opportunity to play professional football in Brazil?
Lohran, a member of the Barra da Tijuca Ward, Rio de Janeiro Brazil Jacarepaguá Stake, has football in his blood. His father, Milton, is known simply as Tita throughout Brazil. He has played professionally in five countries, won many titles, been a top scorer in the state, and played on the national team.
Tita noticed his son’s ability early on. “I grew up with a football always close by,” Lohran remembers. “My father has always encouraged me. I started accompanying him to his practices when I was three or four and have been around professional players ever since.”
Formal training began for Lohran at age 6 in Mexico, where his father was playing football at the time. By age 12 he was playing in elite competitions back in Brazil. And when he was 17 Lohran played in the junior league—the fast track to professional recruitment. Lohran seemed destined for football stardom. But his 18th birthday was quickly approaching, and he started thinking more seriously of missionary service.
Lohran explains the dilemma: “I wanted to be a football player, and I wanted to be a missionary. They expect a player to go straight from the junior team to the professional league. To stop playing for two years and then expect to be hired at 21 is almost unthinkable.”
At age 17 Lohran made some decisions that led to what he calls the beginning of his conversion. He set goals to read the Book of Mormon daily, fast, and pray. He attended Mutual, firesides, and other Church activities more often. And when he began working regularly with the missionaries, he found a love of the people he visited and prayed for. He wanted them to have the blessings of the gospel. His desire to serve a mission began to grow. But when would it be best for him to serve? And what would happen to his football career after a two-year interruption?
Lohran sought to learn God’s will through fasting and prayer. That very week, he noticed the recently delivered issue of the New Era magazine in his home, and he began thumbing through it. He was attracted to the article “Ice Dreams,” about ice skater Chris Obzansky, who interrupted a promising skating career to serve a mission at age 19, losing the opportunity to compete in the 2006 Winter Olympics.
One passage in particular caught Lohran’s attention: as Chris was in sacrament meeting listening to his Young Men president talk about his own mission call, the Spirit told Chris, “You need to serve a mission when you’re 19, or you’re going to have a tough life.” Chris said, “The message was so clear I actually turned around to see if someone was there. The feeling came back 10 times stronger, and I knew I had to go on a mission.”
Lohran smiles. “When I read that, I felt it had been written for me. Age 19 is the age prescribed by the Lord. I realized that was the answer I needed, and it was like an enormous weight was taken off my back.” The time for Lohran to serve a mission was now. He talked to his bishop, made the necessary preparations, and never looked back. “It was not even difficult to make the decision of leaving football behind,” he says, “for I knew it was the right time to do it.”
Lohran served in his country’s capital, in the Brazil Brasília Mission. He was known as “Elder Happy” because of his contagious enthusiasm. “I am exceptionally happy serving people, sharing with them what I know is true,” he says. “It is so gratifying to see people change their lives after learning the gospel.”
Like all missionaries, though, he experienced his share of hardships. “Obviously, missionary life is not all fun,” he says. “There are difficulties, moments of weakness and loneliness, but all that is next to nothing compared to the treasures of a mission. These are years I’ll never forget, that I’ll always have in my mind and, more important, my heart.”
A few months ago he finished serving a successful mission. Now that he’s home, he has joined a football team in Rio de Janiero and believes more chances to continue his football career will come his way. With faith he says, “I am now waiting for the opportunities to come, opportunities that our Heavenly Father will bless me to enjoy.”

Throughout his life, the Prophet Joseph Smith provided countless examples of courage. One of the most dramatic occurred as he and other brethren were chained together—imagine, chained together—and held in an unfinished cabin next to the courthouse in Richmond, Missouri. Parley P. Pratt, who was among those held captive, wrote of one particular night: “We had lain as if in sleep till the hour of midnight had passed, and our ears and hearts had been pained, while we had listened for hours to the obscene jests, the horrid oaths, the dreadful blasphemies and filthy language of our guards.”

Continued Elder Pratt:

“I had listened till I became so disgusted, shocked, horrified, and so filled with the spirit of indignant justice that I could scarcely refrain from rising upon my feet and rebuking the guards; but [I] had said nothing to Joseph, or any one else, although I lay next to him and knew he was awake. On a sudden he arose to his feet, and spoke in a voice of thunder, or as the roaring lion, uttering, as near as I can recollect, the following words:

“‘SILENCE. … In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and hear such language. Cease such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!’”

Joseph “stood erect in terrible majesty,” as described by Elder Pratt. He was chained, without a weapon, and yet he was calm and dignified. He looked down upon the quailing guards, who were shrinking into a corner or crouching at his feet. These seemingly incorrigible men begged his pardon and remained quiet.

“ZZZZZ …” Eight-year-old Jason faked a snore, then burst into giggles. Lying in his bed, he pulled the blanket over his eyes and pretended to sleep. Across the dark room, his six-year-old brother snuggled into his pillow, then let out a long, dreamy sigh before he started to laugh as well. “Shh!” Jason whispered, pulling the blanket off his head. “We’re supposed to be sleeping!”
“I’m sleeping. I’m sleeping!” his brother whispered back. Both boys giggled again, then pulled the sheets up under their chins, squeezed their eyes shut, and lay as stiff as possible while they waited.
In the next room, their sister also waited, pretending to sleep. Down the hall, their brother waited, pretending to sleep. Even their mom, they knew, was lying in her dark bedroom, curled up under her covers, pretending to sleep.
A floorboard creaked in the shadowy hallway. Dad was somewhere nearby. Any moment now they would hear the signal. Jason listened intently, hardly breathing as he tried to guess where Dad might be standing at that moment. He was definitely coming closer. Any second now …
“BEEEEEP!” A screech blared throughout the house. Jason dropped to the floor and crawled toward the door on his hands and knees.
“Go, go, go!” his brother yelled, bumping into Jason’s side. “We have to get out!”
“Fire!” Jason shouted, crawling into the hallway. “Everyone out!”
“Everyone out!” Mom called. “Stay low!”
Dad joined them on the floor as they crawled down the hallway, into the kitchen, and out the back door. Once outside, they stood up and ran to the maple tree.
“Are we safe?” Dad asked. “Is everyone here?”
“We all made it,” Mom said, counting heads.
Dad looked at his stopwatch. “That was our best time yet,” he said. “Now everyone back to bed—for real this time.”
The next morning, as the family gathered for breakfast, Jason thought about the fire drill. “I’m glad we have an escape plan,” he said. “I feel safer with a fire alarm in our house.”
“Me too,” Mom agreed. “Having an alarm helps keep us safe—as long as we respond quickly when we hear it go off.”
Jason finished his breakfast. “Can I go over to Brett’s house now?” he asked. Brett was Jason’s next-door neighbor and one of his best friends.
“Yes,” Mom said. “Be safe and have a good time.”
Next door, the boys played with Brett’s dog, ran through the sprinklers, and built stick forts in the mud. Then Brett suggested they go inside. “I’m hot,” he said. “Let’s play video games.”
“OK,” Jason agreed. “Maybe I can beat you this time.”
“We can try a new game,” Brett said as the boys went inside. “Have you ever played this one before?” He held up the case for a game Jason didn’t recognize.
“I don’t think so. What’s it like?”
“You’ll see,” Brett said, sliding the disc into the game console.
Brett handed Jason a controller and sat down in front of the TV. Jason sat down beside him. As the game started, a screeching alarm went off in Jason’s conscience. The characters in this game looked like real people, and the clothes they were wearing—particularly the women’s clothes—didn’t cover very much of their skin. Jason felt uncomfortable. He knew he needed to escape.
“We need to play a different video game, or I need to go home,” Jason said. “I’m not comfortable with how those people are dressed.” Jason knew his friend might think he was weird for saying that, but he also knew he needed to pay attention to his feelings.
“No big deal,” Brett said. “We can play a different game.” Brett got out a car racing game. The alarm in Jason’s mind quieted as he heard the roar of the engines in the game. For Jason, nothing could have sounded better.

We had a strong group of young men in our ward, but our son Matthew gravitated to a nonmember who shared his love for cars and anything mechanical. Unfortunately, this young man came from a family that did not value religion. His parents allowed drinking and smoking in their home and didn’t believe that being morally clean was important.
Matthew had earned the top rank in Scouting, but he did not participate in the awards meeting because he had stopped living Scouting standards. I gathered all his Scouting awards and made a display case. Then I put it away, hoping that one day it would be of value to him. By the time he was 16, Matthew was smoking, drinking, and doing drugs. He dropped out of school and moved in with his girlfriend. For a couple of years, we rarely saw him.
We were devastated. We didn’t know if he would ever return to his family and faith, but we decided to follow Alma’s example in dealing with his wayward son. Alma continued to love his son and prayed with faith that he would “be brought to the knowledge of the truth” (Mosiah 27:14).
We prayed constantly that the Lord would intervene in Matthew’s life, and we took every opportunity to express by word and action how much we loved him. When he would come home, we did not say anything he might interpret as criticism or judgment. We simply expressed our joy at seeing him.
One day Matthew came home and said he wanted to talk. He said he had met a girl at a party who had questions about the Church. Before he could tell her that he no longer knew the answers, words started coming out of his mouth. He found himself answering her questions as fast as she asked them. Matthew said he did not remember having learned the things he spoke, but he knew his words were true. He wondered why he was living as he was when he still believed the gospel.
After three days of soul-searching, he decided to leave behind the life he had been leading. He had come home to ask for help in starting over.
Matthew called a cousin in another state who had overcome similar difficulties and asked if he could stay with him. His cousin agreed, and Matthew began attending Church meetings with him and met with the bishop to get help with the repentance process. He felt love and support and became active in the Church.
In time he met a lovely, righteous young woman. They fell in love and were married in the temple.
When their first child was born, I came for a visit and brought the display case I had made of his Scouting awards. He was thrilled and proudly hung it in a prominent place in his home.
An angel did not appear to our son, as had happened to Alma the Younger. But Matthew’s return to the truth was just as miraculous.

One day at school before I was eight, they were inspecting our hands and nails to see if they were clean, and the principal saw my CTR ring. After the principal checked the rest of my row, she came back to me and said, “Rebeca, come with me to the principal’s office.” Then she said to my teacher, “Can I take Rebeca for a while?”
In her office, she asked me what the ring meant. I said, “Choose the right.” I explained that at church they teach us to do good, pray, and read the scriptures. She asked which church I went to, and I said, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” Then she asked me what that church was about, and I told her about Joseph Smith going into a grove to pray and seeing the Father and the Son. I told her about going to the temple to be sealed to my parents and that I would be baptized when I was eight. She said, “You can tell me more later because you need to be in math class right now.”
Later I took the principal a copy of the Book of Mormon with my testimony inside.
I have a goal to be a missionary when I grow up. But right now I am trying to share the gospel with my friends.

Young Women from the Mesa Arizona North Stake decided to devote some of their time at girls’ camp to performing a service to others. For the three days they were at camp, the girls devoted some of their time each day to sewing teddy bears to be given to local fire departments. Firefighters can give the bears to children who have been in traumatic situations, to comfort them and keep them occupied.
Just one week after giving their phenomenal gift of 650 teddy bears (all sewn in patriotic red, white, and blue), the girls were able to see their gift in use. A local paper showed a picture of a child who had been involved in an accident. In his arms, he was holding a small bear, hugging it tightly around the neck.

Mike and his younger brothers, Eric and Tom, liked to go hiking with their dad. Dad always said he knew the mountains like the back of his own hand. He had grown up walking the same paths with his own dad, who was a sheepherder. Dad was a teacher, but he still enjoyed getting out in the fresh air and sunshine of the mountains.

“When we come around this bend, you’ll see a little waterfall,” Dad might tell the boys. Or, “Be really quiet here, and you’ll be able to hear the wind whistle up in the cliffs.” He always seemed to know just what to watch or listen for. When Mike and his brothers did what Dad told them, they always found something new to love about the mountains.

But sometimes they just wanted to run, and Dad let them do it when it was safe. One summer day they were excited to reach the top of the trail—a high meadow filled with fresh green grass and flowers of just about every color. And so they took off running through the trees at top speed, even though they were tired from their morning’s hike. They wanted to burst onto that meadow like jackrabbits.

“Stop when you get to the meadow,” Dad called after them. “I’ll meet you there.” They ran ahead, each trying to get in front of the others. When they burst from the trees, neck and neck, butterflies flew up to avoid the running brothers.

The boys stopped a moment while their eyes got used to the light. Then they took off again, forgetting Dad’s instruction. They ran in circles through the deep grass, jumping and dodging, whooping and hollering and tagging each other. “You’re it, Tommy!”

“No, you’re it, Mike!”

Then Eric had an idea. “Let’s race all the way across the meadow!” Tom hesitated. They couldn’t see the far side of the clearing because a grassy hill obscured their view. But Mike wasn’t worried. “I think this is the same meadow we came to last summer,” he assured his brothers.

They gathered back at the trees. “Ready!” Eric shouted. “Set! GO!” The wind felt fresh and cool on Mike’s cheeks and in his hair, and the faster he ran, the more wind he got. Soon he was leading the race. He felt like he could run forever.

“STOP!” a voice bellowed like thunder behind them. All three boys stopped immediately. They turned and saw Dad running toward them from the edge of the meadow. “Come back here beside me,” Dad called, more gently this time. The boys obeyed. “Now, everybody hold hands,” he said. Eric and Tom held Dad’s hands, and Mike held Tom’s little hand. They walked together across the meadow. As they topped the little hill, Dad suddenly stopped.

Just a few paces ahead of them, a sheer cliff dropped down at least 20 or 30 feet. If they had been running, there was no way they could have seen it in time to stop.

“Whoa!” Eric gulped. “That’s pretty scary.”

“Yeah.” Tom shook his head. “Thanks, Dad.”

They turned away from the cliff. Eric and Tom ran back across the meadow, but Mike slipped his hand into Dad’s. “We could have died,” Mike said softly.

“Well, maybe. I’m sure glad you stopped running, even though I didn’t have time to explain. Sometimes we have to obey first and ask questions later!”

“Especially when someone else knows what’s coming, and you don’t,” Mike said.

Dad smiled. “You might find the same thing to be true at other times in your life. Maybe your mom or I, or a teacher, or perhaps the Holy Ghost will give you some instructions. You might not know why right away. But if you trust the person the instructions came from, obey anyway. Later you’ll understand why.”

Mike nodded. He couldn’t always know where cliffs were hidden, but he could always listen to those who knew more than he did.

Illustration by Mark Robison
Abby loved her house. But not the coat closet. She was afraid a monster would jump out of it. Abby always ran by it as fast as she could.
“Why do we even have a closet, Mommy?” Abby asked one day. “I don’t like being afraid.”
“Sometimes we’re afraid of what we can’t see,” Mommy said. “You can’t see what’s behind the door. Maybe that’s what scares you.”
“I always think there might be monsters,” Abby said.
“I promise there are no monsters. But you could say a prayer to Heavenly Father and ask Him to help you not feel scared,” Mommy said.
“OK,” Abby said.
The next day Abby was playing in her room. Mommy called her to come eat. Abby jumped up. Dinner smelled really good.
She started down the hall. Then she saw the coat closet waiting at the end.
Abby’s tummy felt tight. She thought about what might be hiding behind the closet door. She wanted to run. Then she thought about what Mommy had said. Abby stopped walking. She folded her arms.
“Please help me to not be so afraid,” Annie prayed.
Abby took two slow steps. She didn’t feel afraid any more! She felt warm and safe. She felt like she did when Mommy gave her a hug.
This time Abby didn’t run past the closet. She stopped right in front of it. She reached out. She touched the handle. Her tummy got tight for a few seconds, but then she remembered her happy feeling. She turned the knob and pulled the door open.
Abby laughed. “Hey! There aren’t any monsters in here. Just a bunch of coats.”
She folded her arms again. She bowed her head. “Heavenly Father, thank you for helping me not be afraid.”
Abby smiled and closed the closet door. She was hungry!

The last rays of the sun dipped behind the mountain. I was miles from home, sitting on a cot in a faded green tent, wondering how I was going to solve the dilemma I was in.
It was the end of the first day of my summer job as a forest ranger in eastern Utah. That morning, I had met the two women I would be working and camping with. I was only 19; they were both in their 30s. But our differences were deeper than age. On the hike to base camp, I had hung back and listened to them talk about how strange they thought members of the Church were.
Now it was night, and my co-workers were both slipping into their sleeping bags. “Are you ready to turn the lantern off?” one of them asked me.
I had a decision to make. I hadn’t done my scripture reading for the day. But I also knew how the two women felt about members of the Church. I didn’t want them to laugh at me.
I silenced my conscience and nodded my assent. The light was extinguished, and soon the even breathing of my co-workers told me they were asleep.
But sleep evaded me. After tossing and turning, I grabbed a flashlight and my Book of Mormon and headed down to a meadow just below our campsite. “This is the perfect solution,” I said to myself. “I can read my scriptures without being made fun of.”
Happy with my plan, I turned to Mormon 8. The contentment I felt ended when I reached verse 38 and read, “Why are ye ashamed to take upon you the name of Christ? Why do ye not think that greater is the value of an endless happiness than that misery which never dies—because of the praise of the world?”
That night, as I sat under the brilliant stars in a mountain meadow, I knew the Lord was speaking to me. I had been too afraid of ridicule to show my co-workers what I believed, and the Lord was disappointed in me. Armed with this knowledge, I resolved I would change.
The next night, when my co-worker asked if I was ready to put out the lantern, my answer was different. I cleared my throat and said, “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’m going to read the Book of Mormon for a few minutes.”
I steeled myself for her laughter, but it never came. “Oh, that’s fine,” she said. “Just turn the light off when you’re done.”
I’ve never forgotten the lesson I learned that night. For the first time, I understood how relentlessly Satan tries to make us feel that we won’t fit in if we do what we’re supposed to. Often, the ridicule we are so afraid of hearing never comes. We can never be examples for good unless we let the things we believe show through our actions.

I recently have learned about a Japanese art form called kintsugi, meaning “golden repair,” which consists of repairing broken pottery by mending the cracks with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold. Once completed, beautiful seams of gold become conspicuous in the repaired cracks, giving a unique appearance to each repaired piece. This unique method incorporates the vessel’s fractures—instead of hiding or disguising them. Indeed, kintsugi often makes the repaired piece appear even more beautiful than the original, giving it a new look and a second life.
As I pondered this, I realized that it was what the Lord was doing to me. Many years ago, I was in a situation during which I found myself, as written in Psalms 31:12, “a broken vessel.” After having repeatedly tried in vain to save a relationship that I thought was idyllic, but was actually mired in misunderstandings and complications, I was emotionally, mentally and spiritually broken. It was as if the very thing on which I had focused all of my energy had just suddenly vanished. Only I remained—burdened in my medical studies with the approaching exams. I did not have the mind and strength to pursue such a difficult endeavor—a weakened student as I was at that time. The only thing I could do was to hold fast to the little flame of faith that was starting to burn inside of me by finding peace in reading the set of scriptures that had been just given to me.
And then occurred the magic touch of the Master, demonstrating His infinite love and unfolding His immeasurable redeeming power. Figuratively mending each crack in my heart, mind, and soul with His “golden lacquer of love” and resulting in my becoming far more valuable through the very scars which came from that “experience, and [being] for [my] good.”1 Throughout this repairing process, the Lord operated on me and resulted in my discovering the Book of Mormon, then going through the painful—but at the same time joyful—process of repenting, and later receiving the holy ordinances of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.

Jesus Christ told the Prophet Joseph Smith many important things to help us. The Church set up a printing press to print Jesus’s words. That way people would be able to read them.
One day, a group of angry men came. They destroyed the printing press. They threw the pages of the scriptures out into the street.
Two sisters named Mary Elizabeth and Caroline Rollins saw what happened. They ran and gathered the pages in their arms.
The girls hid in a cornfield until the men left. They had saved the scriptures! Those scriptures later became part of the Doctrine and Covenants.

I have a dear friend who served as a stake president. The patriarch in the stake over which he presided had experienced some health challenges and was unable to perform in his calling. The ailing patriarch had difficulty moving about and dressing and caring for himself, and his strength was limited. One Sabbath afternoon this good stake president visited the home of the patriarch to encourage him and check on his well-being. As the stake president entered the home, he found the patriarch dressed in his suit and white shirt and tie, sitting in a recliner in the front room. The stake president greeted the dear patriarch and, knowing how hard it must have been to dress himself, graciously suggested to the patriarch that it was not necessary for him to get dressed up on the Sabbath or to meet visitors. In a kind but firm voice, the patriarch reproved the stake president and said, “Don’t you know that this is the only way I have left to show the Lord how much I love Him?”

The stake president was quick to observe. He both heard and felt the lesson, and he applied it. Reverence for the Sabbath day and the importance of respect and appropriate demeanor and dress took on added importance in the ministry of the stake president. The spiritual ability to see, hear, remember, and act upon that lesson was a great blessing in his life—and in the lives of many others.

Elizabeth: I had an experience last summer that I think of when considering this question. I was in North Carolina shopping in a department store when a very pretty young lady came in dressed in a halter top and skimpy shorts. I didn’t think too much about it until I saw a young man looking at her in a very interested manner. It made me realize that although we may rationalize immodest dress by telling ourselves that we have clean minds and after all it is summer and we want to be fashionable, this won’t keep others from getting the wrong impression.

Matthew clamped his hands over his ears. “I can’t hear you!” He chanted it over and over to drown out his little brother’s whining.
“Yes, you can,” Peter said. “Why can’t I go with you?”
The trouble was, Peter always wanted to hang out with Matthew. Usually Matthew didn’t mind. But today he wanted to go to the park with just his friends. Peter could be such a pest!
“Why can’t you leave me alone?” Matthew said between gritted teeth. “You’ve got your own friends.” Then he ran out of the house before Peter could follow him.
At first he felt a little bad about leaving his brother behind. But when he and his friends started playing soccer, he forgot all about Peter.
When he got home from the park, Matthew walked into his bedroom. He stopped cold in his tracks. He couldn’t believe it! One of his dinosaur models was scattered in pieces all over the floor. It was the T-rex, his favorite.
“Peter!” Matthew yelled. “What did you do?”
Dad stuck his head in the doorway. “What’s all the yelling about?”
All Matthew could do was point to the broken model. He was too angry to even speak. It had taken him hours to paint it and put it together.
Peter came to the bedroom door, eyes on the floor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drop it. I just wanted to play with it. I tried to fix it. …”
“Get out of my room and don’t ever come in here again!” Matthew yelled.
Peter started to cry and ran down the hallway.
Matthew didn’t need to look at Dad to know what look he had on his face.
“I’m sorry,” Matthew said at last. “But he deserved it! He shouldn’t have played with my dinosaur. And then he wrecked it.”
“It was wrong of him to play with it,” Dad said. “But I think he just wants to do the same stuff you do. You’re probably the most important person in the world to him.”
Matthew thought about that. He could picture the happy look Peter had when they played basketball together, even though Peter couldn’t dribble the ball that well. Matthew’s shoulders slumped. “I probably need to tell him I’m sorry for yelling at him.”
He found Peter curled up in his bed, the covers pulled up to his eyes. Matthew tugged at the covers. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Peter swiped tears off his cheek. “I’m sorry I wrecked your dinosaur,” he said in a muffled voice.
Matthew thought of all the hours he’d spent making the dinosaur perfect. He swallowed hard. “It’s OK,” he said. “Maybe we can fix it.”
Peter sat up. “You mean I can help you?”
Matthew nodded. “Sure.”
By the end of the afternoon, the dinosaur looked pretty good—even if one eye was a little crooked.
Matthew glued the last piece in place. “Not bad,” he said.
“Not bad,” Peter echoed.
Matthew studied the model and smiled. “Cool. He looks like he was in a fight but still came out on top.”
“Cool,” Peter said.
The next day Mrs. Garcia assigned the class to write about the most important person in their life. Matthew didn’t even have to think twice about who he would write about. His essay about Peter got an A. But that wasn’t as important as realizing how much Peter meant to him.

One day I saw my oldest son, Wilford, preparing a tithing envelope. He was probably around five years old at the time. Wilford didn’t earn any money, so I wondered why he was paying tithing. When I asked him, he told me he was actually paying a fast offering.
Wilford didn’t have much money of his own. But he was still excited to pay a fast offering.
I was impressed by this act of kindness. I asked him why he had decided to do this.
Wilford answered, “I don’t need anything. But I know others do.” He knew his money would help people. He was very happy about that.
This simple experience taught me a good lesson: children are really in tune with the Spirit and have a natural Christlike love. Wilford had something he didn’t need and knew it would be helpful to other people. He was willing to make the sacrifice.
Saving money is good. But my young son taught me another lesson through his example. By listening to the Spirit, we can bless the lives of others when we share what we have.

There are some things that form a common bond between Santosh and other teenagers all over the world. One of those things is the gospel. Santosh was introduced to the gospel via his uncle, Dr. Edwin Dharma Raju, who joined the Church in Samoa when he was on assignment from the government of India.

When Dr. Raju returned to India, he wanted his family to hear the gospel message, and he wrote to Church headquarters for missionaries to be sent to his family. Instead, Dr. Raju and his wife went on a short-term mission to teach the family themselves.

Santosh was eight years old when he and several family members accepted the gospel. The water tank on the roof of his Uncle Henry’s building was scrubbed and painted to serve as a baptismal font. The men and boys who attended the baptism were dressed in traditional white, loose-fitting Indian jackets and trousers. The women were dressed in white saris, the standard dress of Indian women, consisting of a long piece of cloth draped over the shoulder and wrapped around the body. The newly baptized family was to form the nucleus of the branch in Hyderabad.

Santosh is now a teacher in that branch. He and his brother Sanjay, 12, and sister Sunitha, 16, are the only youth there, but they take a very active part. Santosh arrives at the mission home, where church services are held, a half hour early each Sunday to prepare the sacrament. He is always ready to give a talk or teach a lesson to any age group. Sunitha is the branch chorister and teaches a Primary class, and Sanjay takes on various assignments and is often the first one to bear his testimony on fast Sunday.

Santosh is also preparing for a mission. “I have thought a lot about a mission,” he says. “I used to dream of going to a very remote island or a place where I could convert and baptize everyone. Now that they are calling Indian youth to serve in India, I would like to serve a mission here.”

His dreams also include medical school, which is extremely difficult to get into in his country. Of the 50,000 students who take examinations each year to apply, only 2,000 will be accepted. Only those with the highest grades can enter medical school.

Santosh, like many Indian children, has been going to school since he was three. He will graduate from “college,” the equivalent of American high school, at 17. In the meantime, he carries a stiff academic load.

His day starts before 6 A.M., when he hurries off for an hour session with a tutor. Since his classes at the private Christian school contain anywhere from 40–70 students, the time he spends with his tutor and four or five other students is essential.

He then comes home, prepares for school, reads the paper, and hops on the school bus. Once there, he attends eight classes, among them math, physics, biology, and three different language classes.

Santosh is in the 10th class, where it is crucial to be at the top. He has even had to give up most of the sports he likes so well, like cricket and badminton, in order to excel. He has to take major tests every month and exams every three months to determine his position in college.

After school, Santosh does homework and a little recreational reading until it’s time for the evening meal at 8:00 P.M. Then at 9:00 he’s off for another hour and a half with the tutor.

Although school takes up a major portion of his day, he still finds time for the Church and for scripture study. “I have a very strong testimony,” he says. “I thank my Heavenly Father for it. I know that the Book of Mormon, the Holy Bible, the Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price are companion scriptures and the word of God.”

That knowledge, plus the support of his family, are enough to sustain him in his minority status. “I hope I will have the strength to resist the temptations,” he says. “I love this church, and don’t ever want to go away from it.”

We can seldom foresee how the Lord will make us instruments in his hands. One year when my companion was out of town, my daughter Elizabeth went with me on my visits. It was Christmastime, so we baked cookies, wrapped them in cellophane, and tied them with red ribbon and a pine branch. Then we put all these little gifts in a bag and had a prayer together. At the last minute I felt a strong prompting and slipped in an extra package.
After visiting several houses, we reached the home of a sister who lived with her married son and his family, all of whom were members. Another older woman, looking very tired, was there delivering clothing. Her name was Margarita, and she earned her living doing laundry by hand. Knowing what hard work that is, I handed her the other little package of cookies and wished her a Merry Christmas. With tears in her eyes, she told me that she was completely alone and that this would be her only gift.
I spoke to her then about the Lord Jesus Christ and told her that if he is with us, we will not be lonely. I assured her that she was a daughter of God who loved her just as an earthly father loves his children and that if she sought after him, he would receive her with open arms. I told her many more things. Her face lighted up, and she agreed to receive the missionaries.
The next month when we went to visit that house, Margarita was there again. She hugged us and said, “Now I can really call you sisters. I was baptized last week.”