Gospel Story Finder

Sometime ago, I became acquainted with a woman in an institute class I was teaching. Frequently she would stop by my office after class. Over a period of many months, she shared bits of her life story. It was not pretty. As a child she had been ritually and sexually abused. She had spent years in therapy, at times institutionalized because she could not cope. I remember the day she came to my office pleading for help. I could see her pain, but I have no training in how to handle such things and I pled with the Lord to know how I might help. I played Church hymns and after a time, when she had finally calmed down, I invited her to sit in my office chair. On the wall, at eye level, was a large painting of Christ. I invited her to look into His eyes as I began reading to her from the scriptures:
“The Lord hath comforted his people, and will have mercy upon his afflicted. …For can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? ... Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands.”
“Behold, he suffereth the pains of all men, yea, the pains of every living creature, both men, women, and children, who belong to the family of Adam."
“Look unto God with firmness of mind, and pray unto him with exceeding faith, and he will console you in your afflictions, and he will plead your cause... O all ye that are pure in heart, lift up your heads and receive the pleasing word of God, and feast upon his love.”
As I read to her, I knew without question I had been blessed by the mercy of Jesus Christ to do and say things beyond my natural ability. For my friend, it was a new beginning. Years later she wrote of that day, “I felt an overwhelming feeling of love and peace. Intellectually, I knew about the Atonement, but that day I came to a ‘heart knowledge’ as I felt His healing power. Over time I came to know that ultimately true healing can only come from the Master Physician, Jesus Christ. The healing which she experienced that day was only a beginning. Challenges still remain, but she is learning to trust in His promises as she turns to the scriptures and seeks His help through prayer.

It is said that “to care for those who once cared for us is one of the highest honors”.
The primary of New Delhi Ward IV visited an Old age home situated in a lush green landscaped farmhouse where more than a dozen of senior citizens are experiencing their second innings. The children were excited to meet these wonderful people whom they did as they entered the premises and saw most of them sitting outside on a cold winter morning and teaching a few under privileged children. What a beautiful sight it was to see these old yet firm individuals serving notwithstanding their infirmities.
To begin with the Primary sang Christmas carols and distributed cards and warm clothes to all and took out time to talk to these senior citizens. The interaction with them seemed to be lengthy as they had so much to talk about. Hearing them was a privilege and serving them was an opportunity to imitate the Savior’s example. The words of Isaiah rehearsed in my mind which say:
“Strengthen ye the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees.
“Say to them that are of a fearful heart, Be strong, fear not: behold, your God will come with vengeance, even God with a recompence; he will come and save you”. (Isaiah 35:3–4)
All of us will have to pass through a stage in our lives where we will be weak and would need strength. This experience helped us to share the love of Christ and helped us in turn to reflect on our lives to be more like Him who once walked on this earth and experienced all the pain and suffering that we go through. The Savior knows how to succor those in need and this visit was an added privilege for these young children to deposit a memorable experience in their mortal account to cherish for the rest of their lives.

Some years ago I was appointed chairman of the board of a music school in the city of Hanau, Germany. As part of my duties, I attended an exhibit of musical instruments. Although I am not a musician, I strolled through the thousands of instruments and tried to ask an intelligent question or two.
As I wandered around the main floor, I noted that each exhibit had a soundproof enclosure, supposedly so that those trying out trumpets, cornets, French horns, organs, drums, or tubas would not disturb those trying out violins, clarinets, pianos, flutes, oboes, or saxophones. Actually, “not quite soundproof” would be a more accurate description of those enclosures. A terrible noise filled the air, as if musicians from several orchestras were all tuning their instruments at once.
Then I saw a sign reading “Orchestral Instruments” with an arrow pointing upstairs. I’m saved, I thought, even though the sign was a bit unclear—the instruments on the main floor were orchestral instruments. But I headed up the stairs anyway, hoping to find a little peace and quiet.
Instead I found myself in another large room filled with even more musical instruments—most of them used for performing rock music. The air was filled with much louder and shriller noises than those I was trying to escape. I quickly scanned the room for the closest exit.
But suddenly I stopped. For just a fraction of a second, I thought I heard a beautiful melody among all those discordant sounds. Was it possible? Or was it an illusion?
Then I heard the melody again. What an unmistakably beautiful sound! It was definitely a strain of violin music—almost lost in the ocean of noise. I looked around to see where it was coming from. I noticed that two others had heard it as well and were also seeking it out.
Eventually, we found what we were looking for. In the smallest booth in the hall, a man was softly playing a beautiful violin while his wife stood nearby. He told us that he was a Swedish violin maker and that he was trying to market his product the best he could amid the electric guitars and synthesizers.
“I was deceived,” he told us sadly. “I rented this spot because it was supposed to be the site of the orchestral exhibits.” Then he turned again to his violin, and we listened entranced as he played a familiar masterpiece. We no longer heard the discord around us—just the beautiful notes of that violin.
Some time later, while standing in an overcrowded room with too many intermingling voices, I was once again forced to choose what I would listen to among many discordant sounds. This time I didn’t hear beautiful music, but I was struck with the thought that often in life we are surrounded by many voices, some of which advocate false ideas, such as “Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die” (2 Ne. 28:7). Still other voices are loud and raucous, brazenly tempting us to try something new—such as a new morality that simply turns out to be the old immorality.
But even among these loud, conflicting messages, if we choose to listen carefully, we can hear the soft sound of a heavenly voice. And we can know that the still, small voice of the Spirit is just as real as the beautiful melody of a well-played violin.

In a worldwide leadership training meeting, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland told this story: “For many years, I have loved the story that President Packer has told about William E. Berrett’s boyhood Sunday School teacher. An elderly Danish brother was called to teach a class of rowdy boys. … He didn’t speak the language very well; he still had a heavy Danish brogue; he was much older, with big farm hands. Yet he was to teach these young, rambunctious 15-year-olds. For all intents and purposes, it would not have seemed like a very good match. But Brother Berrett used to say—and this is the part President Packer quotes—that this man somehow taught them; that across all those barriers, across all those limitations, this man reached into the hearts of those rowdy 15-year-old kids and changed their lives. And Brother Berrett’s testimony was ‘We could have warmed our hands by the fire of his faith.’”

One quorum leader says he’s almost never been turned down when he uses that approach. “First, I make sure that I talk to both the husband and wife,” he says. “If both aren’t there, I don’t even bring it up, but tell the one who’s home that I’ll visit again later.

“Second, I avoid giving them an easy way to say no. I once visited a man who had requested no home teachers. I asked him if home teachers could come by each week to teach his family. Before I was even finished with my sentence, I could tell he was going to say no. So I didn’t ask for an answer. I just said, ‘Why don’t you think this over, and I’ll be back next week.’

“The next week when I returned—I think he was surprised to see me. I told him a little bit about the first lesson. But again I could tell he was going to turn me down. So I didn’t give him a chance. I told him to think about it some more, and I’d be back a week later.

“The next week the same thing happened. I was beginning to think I’d never make any progress. But the following week he didn’t wait for me to come. He called me!

“After we started teaching him, his wife came up to me with tears in her eyes. ‘This is the first time I’ve ever seen Mac interested in the Church,’ she said.”

“Melanie and I just celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary with our family, walking in the paths of the land that our Savior made holy.
“Because this was a family trip—and not an official Church assignment—I wanted to be a dad and husband but also fulfill my calling as an Apostle to be a special witness of the Lord, wherever I may be. I prayed that God would put experiences and people in my path so I could be an instrument in His hands—and He heard my prayers.
“One such example was with a group of young humanitarian volunteers. We unexpectedly ran into most of the members of this group at Caesarea Philippi. I testified to them that as the Apostles of old proclaimed there that Jesus was indeed the Christ and the Son of the living God, I too could bear my solemn witness of the same. And I humbly do so!
“The next day, I began my morning with the prayer that if I could be put in the path of anyone who needed my love or testimony, then I would be properly directed. The location where we had planned to go for lunch was closed, so we went somewhere else. Not long after we sat down, the full group of young humanitarian volunteers from the day before entered as well. Their lunch plans had also been rerouted. We learned that one of the young men had cried the night before because he had missed the chance to meet an Apostle. Both of our prayers were heard, and God orchestrated our paths to cross—for the one.
“God hears our prayers. He answers the one. By divine design, He directs the details of our lives. He loves each and every one of us so very much. Just as Jesus Christ ministered to those in the Holy Land 2,000 years ago, He does the same for us today, wherever we are.
“I am grateful to be a witness to His power and His love, to make all things possible to them that believe. May it be so for each of us as we place our lives and hopes in His hands.”

Photo illustration by Cody Bell
I can still picture them. Those unforgettable, incredibly quiet Sundays spent outside in a neighborhood filled primarily with Latter-day Saints—and I wasn’t one of them.
I used to imagine a tumbleweed rolling slowly down my street as they did in old Western films, indicating that no one was around. I knew where my neighbors were (at church), I understood why my friends couldn’t play on Sundays, and I knew why only my family would be outside doing yard work on a blistering Sunday afternoon. At least, I thought I knew. Little did I realize that seminary and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints would give me true insight and change my life for the better.
Fast-forward a few years from those childhood days: I was baptized when I was 11 years old. I’m not sure if an 11-year-old can choose to be baptized for the wrong reasons, but I believe I did. I didn’t fully understand the role of the Holy Ghost, and all I remember about my baptism was thinking, “I will finally be like my friends.”
To my dismay, I was still nothing like them. I assumed that once I was a member of the Church, my family would automatically attend church with me. When I realized my family was not going to attend church, I wondered if my friends knew how lucky they were. They would talk about how they didn’t like going to church or how they seemed to dread saying family prayers. I wanted so badly to tell them they shouldn’t be wishing away something so precious. I knew they had something special.
Yet I also didn’t fully embrace all that the gospel and the Church had to offer, even though I was baptized.
Then one day when I was a freshman in high school, something happened that changed everything: I ran into Brother Esplin.
“Excuse me,” he said as I tried to walk past him.
“Yes?” I replied.
“I’m Devin Esplin, Melissa Esplin’s husband. My wife talks about your volleyball potential all the time, and I just wanted to formally introduce myself.”
I stood there silently until a lightbulb finally went off in my head.
“Oh! Right, I love Coach Esplin!”
“Me too!” he said. “Anyway, I’m the seminary teacher here, and I was wondering if you would like to transfer into my class.”
“Well, I would, but I can’t,” I replied. “But I promise that next year I will!”
“I sure hope you do. It will be a great experience.”
“I will! I promise,” I said as I walked away. As I walked back to class, I couldn’t hide the smile on my face. This was my opportunity to find out for myself what the Church had to offer. This time I was going to learn about the Church for the right reasons. I was given a second chance, and I wasn’t going to pass it up.
My sophomore year was incredible. I was so excited to go to seminary and learn! The first few weeks were pretty crazy. I felt like a little child—I had a lot to learn. People would use words like repentance and the Atonement, and I felt ashamed because I had no idea what those terms meant. Mercifully, my class helped me learn and never made me feel like an outsider.
As the year progressed, I found myself craving more knowledge. I was amazed by the things that my peers would discuss. I learned that I wasn’t the only one who suffered trials. I was saddened that I had made it so far in life without focusing on the Savior and the gospel. As I began to understand what being a Latter-day Saint is all about, I knew I never wanted to give it up.
My junior year was the major turning point of my life. Because of seminary, I read the Book of Mormon for the first time. As I studied daily, my testimony grew, and I grew closer to my Heavenly Father. I learned that I can strengthen my testimony every day. I understood that I’m never alone.
Seminary is a blessing that has altered the course of my life forever. Every day, I now think about how grateful I am that I have my Savior to get me through trials and temptations.

Last year in my fourth-grade class there was a boy whom nobody respected. At lunch our table always got really crowded, and no one would scoot over for him. I knew that this wasn’t right, so whenever he asked me to scoot over, I did. One day one of my friends asked, “Why do you always scoot over for him?” I answered, “That’s what I’d like someone to do for me.” I know that when I scooted over he appreciated it. I felt good inside too, because I believe that it was what Jesus would have done.

When I was 14, I realized that I had a problem with pornography. I kept telling myself, “I know this isn’t good. I need to stop.”
But I would still find myself back in the same trap again and again. I struggled with this cycle for a few years. And after numerous attempts to stop, I knew I couldn’t overcome this habit on my own. Because I knew the prophets had always warned us to stay away from it, I was embarrassed to reach out to anyone for help, including my Savior. I had messed up too many times. I felt that I didn’t deserve redemption. But I finally decided to seek help.
As I met with my bishop about my struggles, he responded with love. But I started to realize something: my struggles with pornography had clouded my ability to recognize and receive love—to love myself, to love others, and to love God.
Having been trapped in patterns of lying for years, I thought that if anyone knew what I struggled with, they wouldn’t love me. I also thought that love was temporary and unrealistic.
Eventually, as I repented, built better habits, and practiced self-mastery and healthy thinking patterns, I began to realize that Jesus Christ had felt my suffering and that He and Heavenly Father could forgive me. I began to feel hope instead of shame. But it would take some time to begin to experience love the same way.
A few years later, I went on a mission! I was so happy to be serving my Savior, but lasting effects from my secret struggle showed up in my life as a missionary. I still struggled to love others and to feel love, especially from Heavenly Father.
I still hadn’t forgiven myself. I still thought that I was unlovable, even though I had worked so hard on overcoming my past habit. I was afraid to be vulnerable or to invite any love in my life out of fear of pain, disappointment, and suffering. So I often shut people out and didn’t allow them to get close to me.
One night when I was feeling desperately lonely, I was on my knees pleading to Heavenly Father for help. I expressed to Him my sorrows for being afraid to love myself, to love Him, and to love His children as much as I wanted to.
As I wept, I felt a clear and gentle impression in my mind. I felt that God was telling me that it’s OK to love deeply. That love is a gift He has given me—a talent I had hidden. I felt impressed that I needed to use it and multiply it. Just like God’s love for me never runs out, I needed to love more deeply.
This mercy from the Spirit touched me beyond anything I had felt before. I truly felt Heavenly Father’s love—what it means to be His child. It was a feeling I can’t put into words.
I wanted to do better at sharing this love with others and allowing others to share it with me. I prayed for opportunities to deepen this capacity for love and over time was blessed with so many experiences to share it with my brothers and sisters.
I had repented from pornography use, but I still needed to heal my heart. And that healing didn’t happen all at once—the Savior’s power came through seeking Him by studying truths in the scriptures and praying earnestly for help. I started to believe He and Heavenly Father did love me enough to offer me redemption. I felt my pain and self-loathing slowly peeling away.
The story of the tree of life in 1 Nephi 8 taught me how I can seek Jesus Christ. Everyone is in a different place in life. Sometimes, finding our way to Him takes time. But I know that eternal joy awaits us as we take steps along the covenant path toward Him.
Mistakes don’t define us. Satan wants us to think that we are unloved and unworthy. But that is false. We are loved perfectly. And Christ can help us rise above our sins.
There are many who are struggling with pornography or other habits they don’t want, and often, like in my case, these habits thrive in secrecy and isolation. But I have seen how Christlike love can change everything for those who struggle.
Those of us who struggle can first seek light through honesty. Building strong, righteous relationships with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, your family, and your friends can be the most helpful blessing in your efforts to build better habits and come unto Christ.
When speaking to those struggling with pornography, Elder Ulisses Soares of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles lovingly counseled:
“The invitation to come unto the Savior means hope. … When we accept this invitation, we humble ourselves before Him. ... And what does it mean to humble ourselves before Him? Maybe it means ... to ask for help from our leaders, from our relatives, from our families, even from medical professionals. … It means also that we should never give up on trying. Nobody’s perfect. We all make mistakes. … The Lord has a perfect love for all of us. He understands our anguish, our challenges, our problems.
“So if we turn our hearts to Him … the Lord can forgive us, [He] can embrace us, can love us, can understand, and can help and give us strength to never give up. Don’t forget that the grace of the Lord is available to you before, during, and ‘after all [you] can do’ (2 Nephi 25:23).”1
We don’t have to hide in shame—we can reach out, be honest, and ask for help. Knowing I am loved by Heavenly Father and those around me made the biggest difference in my ability to heal from pornography use and the aftereffects, because that knowledge helped me see that I am redeemable, loved, and worthy of Christ’s help.
We all are as we seek Him.

I have not always been grateful for opportunities to speak in public. As a girl, I was very shy. Even talking to people was challenging. Through my teens, public speaking of any kind, even small groups, was hard for me.
When I was eighteen, I began college. As you know or will soon find out, speaking in front of a class is often required. In one of my first semesters, I took a class that required an in-class presentation. I prepared my presentation, and on the assigned day, each class member took a turn giving their presentation. I deliberately sat in the back of the class so that I could be one of the last students to present. I was really scared. The closer it got to my turn, the faster my heart beat. When the person right before me got up to speak, I also got up. And I walked right out of the classroom! I did not go back in. I was so scared of speaking in front of everyone that I chose not to do the assignment. I was fortunate and somehow managed to still pass the class.
Looking back on that situation, I now understand that fear made me run away from my presentation.

Several years ago, I had a friend who was living through a series of tough experiences. She called me one day and asked, “Do you ever feel like just giving up?” To my surprise, my response to her question was on my lips almost before I had time to hear the question—because sometimes that’s how the Holy Ghost works. I responded, “No, I really don’t because I know this is what I signed up for.” I’m not sure how much that response strengthened her, but I know it strengthened me.

We are here both at BYU-Idaho and on the earth because this is what we signed up for. We volunteered. We chose to be tested. So, I invite you now to ponder your own experiences and again ask yourself, “Am I having a nice test?”

In school on Monday, Marcus slid his math assignment next to hers.
“Let me check my paper,” he said. “I want to make sure I have the same answers you do.”
Sarah handed him her paper, as she always did, but this time she saw Marcus scribbling out his answers and writing hers down. He wasn’t checking—he was cheating! Sarah knew it was wrong to let Marcus cheat, but she didn’t want to make him feel bad. Wasn’t being nice more important than being honest about one little math assignment? After all, she wasn’t cheating—he was.
A familiar, uneasy feeling crept into the pit of her stomach. Remembering how bad she had felt a few days ago, she yanked her paper away.
“What are you doing?” Marcus cried.
“I can’t let you cheat,” Sarah said. Even though Marcus gave her a dirty look, she didn’t give in to the temptation to let him copy her answers. She realized that she had made a right choice because she felt calm and happy inside. “That’s what the Holy Ghost feels like,” Sarah thought. Her quick decision hadn’t been easy, but she had done what was right.
After school, Mom drove Sarah to Megan’s soccer game. On the way there, Sarah told her about the experience she’d had.
“I’m proud of you, Sarah!” Mom said. “See? You’re learning from your mistakes.”
“I guess so,” Sarah agreed. “Now I know what the Holy Ghost feels like, but I’m still confused about something else.”
“What’s that?”
“I wonder why I think about disobeying lately. I never wanted to touch your book until Megan told me to, and I never wanted to let anyone cheat until today. I almost let Marcus copy my paper, even though I knew I shouldn’t.” Mom was quiet, so Sarah continued. “That isn’t all. Sometimes I’m mean to Spencer. Sometimes swear words pop into my head, and I want to say them. I want to be good, but I keep being tempted!”
“That’s what happens when you join a team,” Mom said. “The opposing team gets mad.”
“What?”
“Think of watching soccer,” Mom said. “It’s obvious that you’re loyal to Megan’s team, because you cheer for them. The other team might not like it, but you’re on the sidelines. You can’t help them to win or lose as much as if you jogged onto the field and started playing.”
“What do you mean, Mom?”
“When you were baptized, you chose sides,” Mom said. “You know that baptism shows Heavenly Father your love and commitment to obey. Don’t forget that it proves to Satan whose side you’re on, too. He’ll tempt you to change your mind.”
“I went to church every week before I was baptized,” Sarah protested. “Didn’t my going to Primary upset Satan just as much then?”
Mom pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine. “You were on the Lord’s side, but you were cheering from the sidelines. Now you’re in the game. Being righteous will take more effort than it has before. And it will take more courage, and it will definitely take more repentance.”
Sarah thought about that. “I guess watching a game is much easier than playing it.” No wonder the gift of the Holy Ghost hadn’t taken away all of her problems. The Spirit could help her see when Satan was tempting her, but the temptations wouldn’t just disappear. “Is that what ‘opposition in all things’ (2 Ne. 2:11) means?” she wondered. She had read in the Book of Mormon that without agency to choose between good and evil, no one could become more like Heavenly Father.
“Even if it’s harder, it’s more worth it to play than to just watch,” Sarah decided aloud.
“Especially when you win,” Mom added with a smile.
Sarah got out of the car and walked toward the field. She silently promised herself that she would really, really try to follow the Holy Ghost, no matter how much she was tempted. She had chosen the Lord’s side. As long as she did her best to be worthy, the Spirit would bless her with the courage to keep choosing the right.

It was a normal day until later in the evening, when I started getting stomach pains. I’ve had stomach pain all my life, so it seemed like one of those “stomachaches” that I could pretend wasn’t there until it went away.
But then the pain worsened. I lay in bed, sweaty and in increasing pain, and prayed that God would help lift my burden.
There was no answer. I asked God again. And again.
And there was still no answer.
When my mother came in to check on me, I asked her, “Why isn’t God answering my prayers?”
She replied, “It might seem like God isn’t listening, but sometimes you have to endure trials.”
By this point the pain was lighting every nerve on fire. The night felt as if it dragged on for days. Somehow, I was able to eventually fall asleep.
When I woke up, the pain had dulled. But I still didn’t understand why God hadn’t helped me.
One day, I read a talk by Elder Quentin L. Cook of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles entitled “Hope Ya Know, We Had a Hard Time” (Oct. 2008 general conference). One certain part stood out, quoted from Doctrine and Covenants 121:7–8: “My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; and then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high.” When I read that quote, I remembered Jesus Christ’s pain when He atoned for my sins. Our Savior willingly endured this great pain—for us.
Everything aligned. I understood why we have trials. If God took away our pain, we would never appreciate our great moments of weakness. But if, when we experience trials, we endure faithfully, we can be exalted on high.

One sister, who for many years resented her father for the way she was reared, realized her attitude needed to change. “As I read what the Savior and our prophets have said about changing our hearts, it dawned on me that my hard heart was not hurting my father, but it was affecting every aspect of my life—especially my relationship with my Heavenly Father.”

For nearly two years she prayed and fasted for this change. Then one evening while attending a meeting focused on parenting, she remembers, “My soul filled with love for my dad, and I couldn’t contain it.” After the meeting, she and her husband drove to her father’s home. “I rang the doorbell. When the door opened I saw a very angry man, and my father slammed the door. I rang again. He finally let me in, but only because I wouldn’t leave.

“I had no idea what I was going to say; I assumed it would be something like, ‘I forgive you for not being a very good dad.’ But I had it all wrong. As we sat together, I took his hand in mine, looked into his eyes, and said, ‘I want you to know I love you, and I am so glad you are my dad.’ The miracle was that I actually meant what I said! My anger and hurt had turned to love.

“Many years later, my love for my father has only grown. His personality didn’t change, but a loving Heavenly Father healed my heart. I felt the pure love of Christ.”

The next day, Sunday, in testimony meeting they sat together, sang the opening song with great enthusiasm, and then with quiet reverence and a special depth of feeling blended their voices in the sacramental hymn. When the priesthood leader turned the time over to the audience for testimonies, the girl stood up.
““I love my dad and mother,” she began, then stopped, brushed a tear away with the back of her hand, cleared her throat, and continued. “I haven’t always been able to say that. When I was about thirteen, I had a problem and went unexpected to my father’s office. He is president of a large corporation. Upon being told that he was too busy to see me, I rushed home, flung myself upon the bed, and cried. Mother, hearing my sobs, came into the room. ‘Daddy doesn’t love me!’ I blurted out through the tears. ‘Why do you say that?’ Mother asked. Then I told her what had happened. Nothing more was said, except my mother firmly declared that Father did indeed love me, and I was not to think otherwise again.
“The next day while at school I received a call from my father’s private secretary. ‘Could you come to the office at 4:00 o’clock today for a visit with President ____________?’ and she named my father. I was thrilled, and the appointment was set. At 4:00 o’clock I was ushered into my father’s office with as much pomp and ceremony as the richest client. There, my father told me to sit in a brand-new chair located next to his desk. Then he said, ‘That is the chair. Whenever you have things bothering you, come and sit in that chair, and I will drop whatever I am doing and listen to and help you, because I care about you more than I care about anything in this world except your mother and your brothers and sisters.’ And you know,” the girl said, wiping more tears from her eyes, “he never once broke his promise.”

It was a beautiful morning in April 2012 when John Ekow-Mensah entered the Accra Ghana Temple. The elderly brother, now in his 80s, had made the trip with a group of Saints from Nkawkaw, where he lived alone. The group planned to stay the night in nearby rooms for temple patrons and spend two days serving in the temple.
Seated inside the temple, Brother Ekow-Mensah was waiting to participate in initiatory ordinances when a younger man sat down beside him. The younger man, age 54, had planned to go through an endowment session that morning with his wife but, arriving too late for that session, he decided to do initiatory ordinances.
“Where are you from?” Brother Ekow-Mensah asked.
“Sekondi,” the man replied.
“What part of Sekondi?” Brother Ekow-Mensah asked.
“Ketan,” the younger one answered, “in the area where the schools are located.” As the conversation continued, the men both sensed where these questions might be leading.
Moved by a growing sense of recognition, the younger man looked at Brother Ekow-Mensah. “You are my father,” he announced. “What is your name?”
“John Ekow-Mensah.”
“That is my name too,” the son replied.
Illustration by Brian Call
After serving in the temple, the two men sat for a long time in the celestial room, reconnecting their lives and rekindling their love. Though everything Brother Ekow-Mensah Jr. said and did was respectful and proper, he seemed not quite ready to embrace his father wholeheartedly—until he learned why his father had to leave and why he could not contact his family.
Nearly 50 years ago Brother Ekow-Mensah Sr. had married a woman whose grandmother—the oldest matriarch at that time—held sovereign power in their tribe. Sadly, the matriarch had been opposed to John’s marriage to her granddaughter. At her insistence the couple ultimately separated when their oldest son, John Jr., was just four or five years old. John Jr. had known his great-grandmother as a strong, hard-working woman, not as the power that had deprived him of all association with his natural father for nearly 50 years.
Expulsion from the family essentially severed all ties. Because of the lack of telephones or mail service, John Sr. had no way to keep contact with his family. His search for work took him many hours away. He lived in Mankessim from about 1963 to 1989, where he operated a small paint shop. From there he moved to Ada, where a woman whose building he was painting introduced him to the gospel of Jesus Christ. Brother Ekow-Mensah Sr. joined the Church in 1991.
Because Brother Ekow-Mensah Jr. was so young when his parents’ marriage dissolved, he didn’t know much about his heritage. Occasionally his mother remarked that he was a “carbon copy” of his father, but that was the extent of his knowledge.
After he grew up and married, John and his wife, Deborah, decided to find a church they could join. John was at the University of Ghana in Accra when he saw a Liahona magazine on a shelf. He picked it up and found himself interested in what it had to say. John noted the publisher: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
When John returned from school to his home in Sekondi, his wife was anxious to tell him of a church she had learned about from a friend. She told him the name was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. John told her this was the church he had read about in a magazine at the university.
John and Deborah were taught the gospel and baptized in 1999. A decade later they were sealed in the Accra Ghana Temple, and the three youngest of their five children were sealed to them.
Then in the temple in April 2012, tears came as the father and son recognized each other. Their joy was compounded by their understanding that they had separately joined the Church and found their way into the temple that beautiful morning.

The highlight of Joseph’s beekeeping adventure was when his hives yielded 60 kilograms of beautiful wild honey. He gave away dozens of jars and received rave reviews. “Even my friend who runs a honey business said that my honey tastes better than what they produce,” Joseph beams. He couldn’t wait to see how his hives would perform in the next harvesting season.
Then one morning, he found an entire hive was empty. The bee colony had left!
Joseph searched the neighbourhood, with no luck. “Sometimes the queen [bee] just decides to leave and take her colony with her,” he explains. “Sometimes you can find them, and sometimes you can’t.”
He knew once a colony has left its hive, it’s unlikely that it will ever return. Also, bees never take over another colony’s hive. For these reasons, beekeepers tend to keep many hives—but Joseph only had two.
Tragically, a couple of months later, his second beehive was also abandoned.
Joseph was heartbroken: “I was so sad. I really felt like I had lost something.”
He hung up his beekeeper suit and went to tell his wife, Atelaite, the bad news. “Our bees are gone,” Joseph said to her. She encouraged him to pray.
From that morning, the couple prayed fervently, every day, for their bees. They would thank Heavenly Father for the privilege of having raised bees, and for the joy the experience had brought them, and then they’d prayed for a miracle—that the bees might somehow return.
After almost two weeks, however, Joseph began to lose faith. He told Atelaite he was ready to take down his empty hives and just purchase new bees in the next season. “These things happen,” he said to her. “Let’s just let nature take its course.”
But Atelaite wasn’t ready to give up. She had the words of Amulek in her heart: “Yea, humble yourselves, and continue in prayer unto him. . . .
“Cry unto him over the crops of your fields, that ye may prosper in them.
“Cry over the flocks of your fields, that they may increase (Alma 34:19, 24–25).
She did not stop praying.
One Saturday morning, Joseph noticed bees hovering above the flowerbeds in his garden. With the eyes of a trained beekeeper, he saw that many were carrying pollen, and that their flight path headed towards his hives.
Joseph hurried to put on his beekeeping suit and went to investigate. Bees swarmed especially around one of his hives, and when he opened it, it was filled with thousands of busy bees.
Joseph shed tears and said a quiet prayer of gratitude. He looked for the queen bee and thanked her for bringing her colony to this hive. Then he ran into the house to tell Atelaite.
“I said, ‘Honey, guess what? The bees have come back!’” He hugged and kissed his wife, and then told her, “Your faith is greater than mine.”
To this day, Joseph doesn’t know if the bees in his hive now are the same bees that left it, or if a new colony took over the hive. As neither situation is likely, he only knows that a miracle happened, and it was preceded by faith.
“I almost doubted and just, let nature take its course,” Joseph says, “but my wife never did. I have learned to never give up on our prayers and to trust in Heavenly Father. A miracle won’t always happen, but when it does, it brings great joy.”

The COVID-19 pandemic has been one of the many trials and challenges that God’s children have confronted throughout the history of the world. At the beginning of this year, my beloved family and I lived through some dark days. The pandemic and other causes brought death and pain to our family through the passing of some dear loved ones. Despite medical attention, fasting, and prayer, during the course of five weeks my brother Charly, my sister Susy, and my brother-in-law Jimmy crossed to the other side of the veil.
At times I have wondered why the Savior cried when He saw Mary anguished by the death of her brother, Lazarus, even though He knew that He had the power to raise Lazarus and that very soon He would use this power to rescue His friend from death. I am amazed by the Savior’s compassion and empathy for Mary; He understood the indescribable pain that Mary felt at the death of her brother, Lazarus.
We feel that same intense pain when we experience the temporary separation from our loved ones. The Savior has perfect compassion for us. He doesn’t fault us for our shortsightedness nor for being limited in visualizing our eternal journey. Rather, He has compassion for our sadness and suffering.
Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, want us to have joy. President Russell M. Nelson has taught: “The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives. When the focus of our lives is on God’s plan of salvation, … we can feel joy regardless of what is happening?—or not happening?—in our lives.”
When I was a young missionary, I remember when a marvelous missionary that I had come to admire received some devastating news. His mother and his younger brother had passed away in a tragic accident. The mission president offered this elder the option to return home for the funeral. However, after speaking with his father on the phone, this missionary decided to stay and finish his mission.
A short time later, when we were serving in the same zone, my companion and I received an emergency call; some thieves had stolen the bicycle belonging to this same missionary and had injured him with a knife. He and his companion had to walk to the nearest hospital, where my companion and I met up with them. On the way to the hospital, I was grieving for this missionary. I imagined that his spirits would be low and that surely, after this traumatic experience, he would now want to return home.
However, when we arrived at the hospital, I saw this missionary lying in his bed, waiting to be taken into surgery—and he was smiling. I thought, “How could he be smiling at a time like this?” While he was recuperating in the hospital, he enthusiastically handed out pamphlets and copies of the Book of Mormon to the doctors, nurses, and other patients. Even with these trials, he did not want to go home. Rather, he served until the last day of his mission with faith, energy, strength, and enthusiasm.
At the beginning of the Book of Mormon, Nephi states, “Having seen many afflictions in the course of my days, nevertheless, having been highly favored of the Lord in all my days.”
I think of the many trials that Nephi experienced, many of which are included in his writing. His trials help us understand that we all have our dark days. One of these trials occurred when Nephi was commanded to return to Jerusalem to obtain the brass plates that Laban had in his possession. Some of Nephi’s brothers were men of little faith, and they even beat Nephi with a stick. Nephi experienced another trial when he broke his bow and could not obtain food for his family. Later, when Nephi was commanded to build a ship, his brothers mocked him and refused to help him. Despite these and many other trials during the course of his life, Nephi always recognized the goodness of God.
As his family was crossing the ocean on the way to the promised land, some of Nephi’s family “began to make themselves merry,” speak harshly, and forget that it was the Lord’s power that had preserved them. When Nephi chastised them, they became offended and bound him with cords so that he was unable to move. The Book of Mormon states that his brethren “did treat [him] with much harshness”; his wrists and ankles “were much swollen, and great was the soreness.” Nephi was grieved with the hardness of his brothers’ hearts and at times felt overcome with sorrow. “Nevertheless,” he declared, “I did look unto my God, and I did praise him all the day long; and I did not murmur against the Lord because of mine afflictions.”
My dear brothers and sisters, how do we react to our afflictions? Do we murmur before the Lord because of them? Or, like Nephi and my former missionary friend, do we feel thankful in word, thought, and deed because we are more focused on our blessings than on our problems?
Our Savior, Jesus Christ, gave us the example during His earthly ministry. In moments of difficulty and trial, there are few things that bring us greater peace and satisfaction than serving our fellow man. The book of Matthew recounts what happened when the Savior learned that His cousin John the Baptist had been beheaded by King Herod to please the daughter of Herodias:
“And his disciples came, and took up the body, and buried it, and went and told Jesus.
“When Jesus heard of it, he departed thence by ship into a desert place apart: and when the people had heard thereof, they followed him on foot out of the cities.
“And Jesus went forth, and saw a great multitude, and was moved with compassion toward them, and he healed their sick.
“And when it was evening, his disciples came to him, saying, This is a desert place, and the time is now past; send the multitude away, that they may go into the villages, and buy themselves victuals.
“But Jesus said unto them, They need not depart; give ye them to eat.”
Jesus Christ showed us that during times of trial and adversity, we can recognize the difficulties of others. Moved with compassion, we can reach out and lift them. And as we do so, we are also lifted by our Christlike service. President Gordon B. Hinckley stated: “The best antidote I know for worry is work. The best medicine for despair is service. The best cure for weariness is the challenge of helping someone who is even more tired.”
In this, the Church of Jesus Christ, I have had many opportunities to minister and serve my fellow man. It is at those times when I feel that Heavenly Father lightens my burdens. President Russell M. Nelson is the prophet of God on the earth; he is a great example of how we should minister to others during difficult trials. I unite my testimony with those of many other Saints that God is our loving Heavenly Father. I have felt His infinite love during my dark days. Our Savior, Jesus Christ, understands our pains and our afflictions. He wants to ease our burdens and comfort us. We must follow His example by serving and ministering to those with even greater burdens than our own. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

With just a month left on my mission, I felt like I needed to take action and find my family’s records before I returned home. I prayed to know if there was something more I could do, and I felt a distinct prompting from the Spirit telling me that I needed to get a copy of those vital records that I had seen months ago. I told my mission president that I felt like I needed to return to my family’s village in Switzerland and explained why. The village was 87 miles (140 km) away, but my mission president gave me permission to go anyway.
It was dusk when the narrow winding road took us up the mountain into the hamlet of Vergeletto. We stopped at the focal point of town, the Catholic church. My companion and I were then drawn to the cemetery across the street from the church that was all lit up with candles.
As we entered the cemetery, I clearly and strongly felt the Spirit guide me like I never had before. That feeling and the fresh alpine air created a sensation I will never forget. In the cemetery, it seemed that every other tombstone had my last name on it. We even saw my great-grandfather’s tomb; it said people went to him to repair their broken bones.
We returned to the church to see if we could find the priest. There we met an old man, who told us it was Il Giorno dei Morti, or a holiday known as the Day of the Dead (which would explain all the candles in the cemetery). The man told us that the priest had services in neighboring villages and would be back in two hours.
My companion and I waited, and when the priest returned, I reminded him of our encounter a few months earlier and then asked if I could see the vital records of the parish again.
He agreed.
The priest brought out a box of books that were hundreds of years old. I told the priest that our Church was microfilming parish records in Parma, Italy, 170 miles (274 km) away. I asked if he would allow us to take the records for a few weeks and have them copied.
He again agreed. I was shocked.
As we left town, I marveled at what had just happened and even checked the rearview mirror to see if the priest was running after us with a change of heart. Two weeks later, we returned the records to him, as promised.

The train hurried on, and the cadence of the wheels on the tracks repeated: “Not expected of you, not expected of you,” with the emphasis on you.
I was very unhappy. I did not notice the sun nor the other 10 girls who were having fun and singing songs as we returned to our homes in the Netherlands from our week’s vacation in the woods. Not even 15 minutes earlier I was one of these girls. But now, I felt so ashamed. Never, no never, would I do something like that again, even if everybody else did it. I felt shut out and lonely as though I had nothing in common with the rest of the group.
All the girls had been disobedient. But even though I was the youngest of them all, I was the only one who had been scolded. My friend Trees was already 14, Ans was 13, and I was 11. I wanted to blame Trees for everything—she was the one who betrayed me. But in my heart I knew it was my own fault because I had been disobedient.
Nothing really serious had happened. When we arrived at our vacation spot a week earlier we received instructions as to what we were allowed to do and what we were not allowed to do while we were there. We could go into the village to buy postcards to send home, but we were not supposed to buy any candy while there. That’s where the trouble started.
It was incredible to see all the different kinds of candy sold in the village store. We were all too weak to resist. It must have seemed suspicious how often we had to go and buy a postcard in the village after dinner; but after a long, tiring day, the teachers were happy to let us go. And so our money disappeared in the store’s register, and the chocolates and candies disappeared into our stomachs.
At first I heard a little voice telling me I was not supposed to do that. But nobody else seemed to have a problem with it, and it was important to me to be accepted in the group, especially since I was the youngest. And so, on the day we were to go home, I had not a penny left.
On the way to the train, we all bragged about how much money we had received for the trip from our aunts and uncles. Then the teachers asked if we had any money left—they realized not all that money could have gone to buy postcards. We were found out.
I don’t know why one of the teachers singled me out and asked me personally what I had done with my money. But before I could answer, Trees answered for me that I had spent it all on candy. I’m sure the teacher would have guessed the truth since my face turned all red. The only excuse I had was that everybody had broken the rules. And then came those words from the teacher: “But I would not have expected it of you.” It wasn’t even her words that made me so unhappy. It was the disappointment I heard in her voice.
In a corner of the train, I promised myself that from then on I would always listen to the still, small voice in my heart and not be led by other people to do things that are wrong. It was a lesson I would always remember.
The train hurried on, the wheels still repeating, “Not expected of you, not expected of you, not expected of you.”