Gospel Story Finder

To cite another example, after our fifth child was born, my wife and I did not have any more children. After more than 10 years we concluded that our family would not be any larger, which grieved us. Then one day, while my wife was in the temple, the Spirit whispered to her that she would have another child. That prophetic revelation was fulfilled about a year and a half later with the birth of our sixth child, for whom we had waited 13 years.

Calmly the bishop turned his head toward the sacrament table and gave the dreaded “no” sign. The young priest had missed a word while blessing the sacrament.
Give the kid a break, I thought to myself, trying in vain to transmit my brainwaves to the bishopric. After all, this was Billy we were talking about. This was a kid who had a tough enough time talking in complete sentences, let alone reading prayers in front of a congregation of people, speaking words verbatim from a card.
Just a week before, Billy’s dad had ordained him a priest. With that prayer came a promise that the Lord would help him overcome his handicaps. The following Sunday, that promise was put to the test. Billy was kneeling behind the sacrament table, confronted with a task that demanded nothing less than perfection.
Billy prayed again, and with loving composure, the bishop once again signaled for him to say the prayer over. Billy’s face filled with disappointment as he dropped to his knees, cleared his throat, and prayed. An anxious reverence filled the chapel.
As Billy began again, I prayed along with him, mouthing each word as if I could somehow control his speech. Amazingly, the technique seemed to be working. With only a few phrases to go, Billy’s prayer was perfect. And then the unthinkable happened as the words that I mouthed and Billy spoke went suddenly out of sync.
There would be no need for Billy to look at the bishop. Billy knew he had to start over. For one awkward and eternal moment he remained on his knees as all eyes focused on the bishopric. And then Andy arose from the congregation, walked quietly to the sacrament table, and knelt down next to his younger brother.
Bowing our heads in gratitude, we waited for Andy to offer the prayer and put an end to Billy’s suffering. But it was Billy’s voice—not Andy’s—that broke the silence. I held my breath as Billy tiptoed through the phrases with his brother at his side.
Then at last came “amen,” and the bishop smiled and nodded.
Billy emerged from behind the sacrament table wearing the same big grin he seemed to always have. For one sweet moment he had tasted perfection, and he knew it. We all knew it, and I more fully understood the wisdom of our bishop.
He was well aware of Billy’s weaknesses. But he loved Billy. He loved him enough to allow him the chance to magnify his priesthood and to let him try and fail until he found perfection.
In that perfect prayer that Billy uttered, we were all lifted and edified. We all saw a priest of great courage who knelt with his older brother and preached a powerful sermon from the sacrament table.

A little while ago, I was invited to read the Book of Mormon every day. I was asked to begin with prayer and to write down my impressions as I read.

Before this challenge, I did not read the Book of Mormon often, but as I accepted the challenge, I became accustomed to reading every day and starting with prayer. It helped me and gave me strength to stand against temptation. It made me much stronger.

At the beginning it was kind of difficult because I would get distracted or tired. But as time went on, I couldn’t stop reading the Book of Mormon. I felt something inside that told me to keep going, and I could feel my testimony growing. Now I don’t just believe—I know that it’s true.

I’ve learned that it helps me to read the Book of Mormon with a spirit of gratitude for everything. And as I continue reading the Book of Mormon, the Spirit indicates that it’s true.

As I wrote in my journal while reading, I knew what to write because I had started with a prayer and asked Heavenly Father to help me understand through the Spirit what He wanted me to learn. And the Spirit taught me as I studied and wrote.

I am grateful for all I have learned. It is going to help me a lot on my mission. I will be a representative of the Lord, teaching others His doctrine and the teachings that the prophets have given us in the Book of Mormon. It is the key for people to come unto Christ.

After my mission, when I marry in the temple and start a family, it will help me to teach my children about the gospel and be able to say to them that all of this is true. Reading the Book of Mormon each day and writing down what I learn has been a great blessing in my life.

As a very young child Trent was too shy to talk to anyone eye-to-eye. First-grade testing showed that he had a learning disability, so since then he has attended special education classes at Meadowbrook School, where fifth and sixth graders become tutors and buddies of the special education students. Tutors drill them one-on-one in speaking, reading, spelling, and math. Buddies play with them on the playground and take them to lunch.

Trent’s self-esteem zoomed sky-high when the older students at his school asked him to play on their soccer team. He could excel in something! But another, greater achievement awaited him.
Special education students and their buddies skate each Friday afternoon at the Bountiful Ice Rink, which is half a block from their school.
A buddy encouraged Trent to skate, and the ice immediately captivated him. As he progressed, Trent became a skating buddy to others. When one child was too timid to try, Trent said, “Come on. If I can do it, you can too.” He flashed his smile and soon had the boy gliding easily on the ice.
Trent is now a member of the Utah Figure Skating Club and the United States Figure Skating Association; he is climbing the same difficult steps that world champion skaters have taken. Trent practices on the ice sixteen hours each week. It took him three long months of practice before he could land an axel—a jump made by taking off in a forward position, spinning one and a half times in the air, and landing on the opposite foot, going backward.
“The intense concentration of skating helps to build the connectors in Trent’s brain,” Trent’s mother explains, “so that his body will follow his brain’s commands. When he is discouraged with his studies, I remind him about how many hours it took him and how many times he fell before he could perform an axel.”
Trent’s coach, Barry Kamber, says, “Trent listens carefully and practices a lot. He attacks each new challenge with an ‘I get to do this!’ attitude.”
He enjoys doing things with his parents, LaDean and Dennis, and with his brothers and sister. His brother Travis (15) excels at golf, and another brother, Todd (13), excels at ice dancing. Trent’s little sister, Tara (4), says, “Trent’s my best buddy.”
In March 1984, the International Special Olympics, in which only handicapped skaters compete, were held in Salt Lake City, Utah, at the Salt Palace. Trent was only nine years old then and too young to compete, but he did perform a solo exhibition number before an audience of thousands—and he had been skating only five months!
In February 1987—the date on the poster—the United States Figure Skating Championships were held, and Trent performed another exhibition number. As Trent arrived at the Tacoma Dome, all the top United States skating competitors welcomed the eleven-year-old blond boy and treated him like one of them. He signed posters and autographed programs along with the champions. Another handicapped skater, Katie Crawford, also did an exhibition number.
In front of the crowd of more than 27,000 in the Dome, Trent was unbelievably composed. He listened for his music, then concentrated on every movement. His first axel was flawless. The crowd rose, stomped their feet, clapped, and cheered. Trent finished his spectacular number, then modestly clasped his hands behind his back and bowed from the waist during the long standing ovation.
“You’re the star of the whole show!” many people praised him. Trent smiled, his eyes glistening. He had achieved his goal!
Skating helps Trent to organize his time wisely for other activities and for doing his homework and chores around the house. “I do the dinner dishes,” Trent says. “I keep my room straight. I put out the garbage and mow the lawn and rake leaves. Sometimes I do things for other people without being asked.”
On his return home Trent began coaching a young learning-disabled girl for the Special Olympics to be held in Salt Lake City. He gives confidence to others, on the ice and off. His classmates feel better about themselves because one of them has achieved.

I started studying the gospel very carefully. After four months of intense investigation, I decided to be baptized.
My life soon turned upside down. I lost my job and had to end my medical residency. As my interests and values started to change, my old friends started to disappear. But hardest of all for me to accept was that my parents were against my baptism.
I loved my parents dearly. They had given everything they had to provide me with the best education and environment. They were proud of my accomplishments. But when they heard my decision, they were shocked. It was the first time I had wanted to do something they did not agree with, and it was very difficult for all of us. But I knew that God wanted me to be baptized. So even if my family would deny me, I couldn’t deny my Heavenly Father.
My family did not accept the invitation to my baptism, so on my baptism day I went alone to the church. There were many people at the baptism, but I felt my only “family members” were the two missionaries. Then as I turned to go to the baptismal font, I saw my mother and brother. It was the happiest day of my life. The presence of my family was like a beam of sunshine that brought me the hope of a brighter tomorrow.

When I was eight years old, our family went on a vacation to the state of New York. I learned that many important events in Church history took place there.
My parents had taught us about Joseph Smith and his prayer to seek wisdom from God. They taught us about Joseph’s experience in the Sacred Grove. They also taught us about the gold plates that were buried in the Hill Cumorah. We had heard these stories many times before in family home evening, in Primary, and in our church meetings.
When we got to New York, we visited the site where Joseph Smith lived with his parents and brothers and sisters. We were reminded that the Smith family loved the Bible and often read from it and prayed together. Then we went down the lane to the grove of trees where Joseph went to ask Heavenly Father which church was His true church.
As our family walked into the Sacred Grove, my heart began to pound. There was a peaceful, wonderful feeling there. I felt something very special as I thought about Joseph Smith and his prayer for wisdom. He actually saw our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. I knew it was true. My parents later explained that the special feeling I felt was the Holy Ghost.
Since that time, my testimony of the truthfulness of this event has grown much stronger. As a missionary in Germany, I had the opportunity to tell many people about Joseph Smith, the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and the coming forth of the Book of Mormon. Each time I testified of the truthfulness of these important events, the Holy Ghost would bear witness to my heart that Joseph Smith really did see God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ.
When we hear something that is true and will be for our benefit, the Holy Ghost will tell us it is true by a special feeling of peace or a voice in our minds or in our hearts. We will have a quiet assurance that what we are hearing or experiencing is true.
From these and many other experiences, I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true. I know God lives, and I know He answers our prayers.

Towards the end of the school year, Karen invited me to a Gold and Green Ball, I had no idea what that was. I had never been to a dance in a church, and I had to dress in a suit! I was amazed to see a gymnasium in a church building.
But what went on in the gym surprised me even more. Adults and teenagers were talking, laughing, and even dancing together. My friends had always thought it was childish to like your parents. All over the nation there was an uproar about communication breakdown between parents and their children. But these people all seemed to be friends, regardless of age.
I asked Karen about it. She said it was because of the Church. As she took me on a tour of the building, I pondered what she had said. By the time I went home that night, I felt these people were unique, they were choice in some way I didn’t fully understand. They had a lot to be proud of.

As he visited ward members, Dale sometimes took Ashley with him. One day they visited a less-active member. “I knew that no one would be able to turn away this adorable little girl at my side,” remembers Elder Renlund. He knocked on the door of a man who had angrily dismissed Bishop Renlund’s counselor sometime earlier.
When the man opened the door, he was so large he filled the doorframe. He glared at Bishop Renlund. Four-year-old Ashley blurted out, “Well, can we come in or what?”
Surprisingly, the man said, “I guess so. Come in.”
When they were seated inside, the man told Bishop Renlund he did not believe the Church was true, nor did he believe in Jesus Christ. He kept talking angrily while Ashley played with a toy. Finally she got off her chair, cupped her hand to her father’s ear, and whispered loudly, “Daddy, tell him the truth.”
So he did. Bishop Renlund bore his testimony to the man. He recalls, “The man’s attitude softened, and the Spirit came into his home.”

Elder Steve Jensen, 19Spain Madrid Mission
I had a similar problem. I was hurting my friends and family. Often, I was teasing, but it was still hurtful enough to endanger good friendships. I didn’t enjoy the feeling that came from hurting others, so I decided to change. The first thing I did was ask Heavenly Father to help me think before I said anything. It worked! Then I apologized to those I had hurt. I still slip sometimes, but I am blessed with understanding and forgiving friends and family who help me to reach my goal.

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.”

The best part about the pageant is the spirit that surrounds it. Eighteen-year-old Janna Halcomb’s brother encouraged her to try out for the pageant with him just before he left on his mission to Hungary. “That year we were able to be angels together,” she says. “It was such an incredible experience. The Spirit on the temple grounds is so strong, and as we bore witness of the Savior and His life my testimony was strengthened.”

Illustrations by Maryn Roos
Dad, my rock collection got put on the truck, didn’t it?
It sure did. One of the movers lifted the box and asked if it was full of rocks. He was joking, but I had to tell him yes.
Thanks for letting me bring them. Mom made me throw away my worm collection.
Your worms probably wouldn’t have liked the trip anyway. So why do you need your rocks?
Well, I want to show them to Franco. He’s a kid in my new class. He’s funny and really smart. And he says he’ll help me catch up with the math we’re doing.
That’s great. Sounds like you made a new friend pretty quickly.
Well, we ate lunch together today ’cause he was eating alone and I didn’t have anybody to sit with either.
Oh, here they are! Dad, can I use your wheelbarrow to take these over to Franco’s house on Saturday?
Why don’t you invite him to come over here?
Well, this would be easier because Franco can’t walk very well. He’s kinda hard to understand too, if you don’t listen hard. But he’s funny and smart and—
Tell you what. Why don’t I drive you over there on Saturday? I always like to meet your friends and their parents.

Our first two children were beautiful little girls. During my third pregnancy, a critical situation developed. It was soon recognized to be life-threatening. Medical experts advised us that there were two alternatives—my probable death, or therapeutic abortion of the child growing within me. The Holy Ghost testified there was no option—I would continue to carry our unborn child. Others in similar situations may well receive a different witness from him. This was personal revelation and was accepted. Anguishing months followed, months of pleading with the Lord that those near to me would have the same conviction, months of applying the power of the priesthood through my husband’s administrations. At last a healthy child was born—our first and only son. My life was spared. This is background for the incident that I feel prompted to share with you this evening.

It occurred when this most treasured, little son was nearly three years old. One day, suddenly and without warning, he stopped breathing and fell to the floor, apparently lifeless. My husband was not home, and I called my ten-year-old daughter, Nancy, to get help as I carried him to the bedroom. As I worked to revive him, I literally, cried out unto the Lord. I begged him to spare our only son. I promised that I would dedicate myself to training him up to be an instrument in the hands of God if he would be spared. The police arrived with their emergency equipment. I continued in fervent, vocal prayer to the Lord, petitioning him to restore our little boy. The doctor arrived. Just as a stimulant was to be injected directly into his heart as a final emergency measure, he cried. My prayers had been answered, but I was to receive further testimony of this in a most unexpected way.

The next morning, our son climbed on his daddy’s knee. “I was sitting on the lap of Jesus,” he said. Then he went on, “He looked into my eyes. I was so happy. I wanted to stay there with him, but he told me I had to go back home to you.” Even now, twenty-four years later, our son remembers vividly the reciprocal love he experienced during his brief “step out of time.” He is vigorous and well, living with his lovely wife and a little son of his own as he continues to serve the Lord.

Just as this child, for that one brief moment, knew and felt the love of the Savior, may we, as women of all ages, as daughters of God, as wives, as mothers, as contributing members of society whose identities are being challenged, seek to know him well enough to love him, well enough to serve him. Seek his face. Reciprocate his love. Reflect it to others. Consider this sobering thought as expressed by C. S. Lewis: “It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and godesses” (The Weight of Glory, Grand Rapids, Mich: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1965, pp. 14–15.)

Jesus Christ is our Savior, our brother, our friend. He is as near as we allow him to be. Our only ultimate joy and happiness is predicated upon our relationship with him. Our only peace, through disappointments, sorrow, and challenges, will come as we draw nearer unto him. With such love for our Redeemer, every difficult experience may be met with courage, acceptance, and even gratitude. His love for us is a gift beyond price. What does he ask in return? “Love one another; as I have loved you.” (John 13:34.)

To these truths I bear solemn witness, for I know this is God’s church. I know God lives, as does his Beloved Son, our Savior Jesus Christ; and the Lord’s word will go forth this night through his chosen mouthpiece, President Spencer W. Kimball. May we listen to a prophet’s voice, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Josie loved her new rain boots. They were bright pink, and when she walked they said squinch, squinch. She especially liked to jump into puddles because they made a big splash all over the sidewalk.
Josie’s sister Lucy didn’t like Josie’s boots quite so much. “Stop splashing me, Josie!” she said as they walked home from school. Lucy was two years older, and she had forgotten how much fun it was to splash.
Josie wanted Lucy to have fun too. “You try it, Lucy,” she said. “See how big I can splash?” And Josie stomped extra hard into the nearest puddle. The water splashed all over them. Josie was glad she had her raincoat on.
“Josie!” Lucy yelled. Lucy was not wearing a raincoat. She was very wet. And very angry. “Look what you did! This is my new jacket! Why do you always act like such a baby!”
Lucy was no fun. Why was she always so grumpy? It served her right that she got all wet. She was silly to wear her new jacket today when she should have worn her raincoat. Suddenly, Josie was angry at Lucy.
Josie ran ahead to the next big puddle and waited by it until her sister caught up to her. Then she jumped into the puddle as hard as she could.
“Josie!” This time Lucy was really, really wet.
Josie ran the rest of the way home and went right to her bedroom. A few minutes later, Mom knocked on the door and came in.
“Josie?” she said. “Lucy says you splashed muddy water all over her new clothes on purpose. Do you want to tell me about it?”
There was a hard, cold lump in Josie’s tummy. She didn’t want to tell Mom what had happened. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” Josie said, but she didn’t look at Mom. The lump in her tummy was getting bigger.
“Are you sure?” Mom asked. “Because I don’t think Lucy would lie about this.”
“Well, she must be lying,” Josie said. But her voice was a little shaky.
Mom was quiet for a few minutes. Then she said, “Well, even if it was an accident, you should apologize. Lucy’s new jacket is very dirty now, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to get it clean. She’s sad about that.”
Josie kept her head down, picking at the little knots on her quilt. “OK, Mom,” she said.
Mom left Josie alone in her room.
Josie wandered around her room feeling yucky inside. Her new boots were in a corner, still wet. She tried to look at a book but she couldn’t keep her eyes on the pictures. She got out her paper dolls, but they weren’t any fun.
The yucky feeling inside was getting worse.
Finally, Josie sat down on her bed and cried. She knew she had told a lie. She knew she shouldn’t have splashed Lucy. She had been naughty and she felt terrible about it. But how could she fix things now?
Just then, Mom knocked on the door again. “Josie?”
“Come in,” Josie said.
“Josie, I can see you are very sad.”
“Oh, Mom,” Josie sobbed. “I did splash Lucy on purpose. I did it because I was mad. But I shouldn’t have. And I shouldn’t have lied. I’m sorry, Mom.”
Mom held Josie tight and patted her back. “You must feel pretty terrible right now,” she said.
Josie nodded. She felt muddy inside, like Lucy’s jacket.
“I know a way to make that awful feeling go away. And you do too. In fact, you’ve already started by telling me what happened. Now what should you do?”
“But, Mom, I don’t want to talk to Lucy.”
“You don’t want that yucky feeling to be with you forever, do you?”
“Maybe she’ll forget about it,” Josie said.
“She might, but I don’t think you will,” Mom said. “If you don’t repent of the things you do wrong, they stay inside you, and they change you into a different kind of person than you want to be. But if you take care of them as soon as you can, they don’t stay with you. They disappear so that you can be your real self.”
Josie thought about it. She didn’t want to become a mean person. Even though she had been mean to her sister, she could erase that and be her better self. That sounded pretty good, but it didn’t sound easy.
“But it’s hard,” she said.
“You’re right,” Mom agreed. “Admitting you did something wrong and asking for forgiveness is one of the hardest things you’ll ever do. But I know you can do it, Josie. It’s worth it.” Then Mom went out.
Josie looked at her poster of My Gospel Standards. It said: “I will choose the right. I know I can repent when I make a mistake.” She knew she had to talk to Lucy. She knelt to ask Heavenly Father for both forgiveness and courage.
Lucy was in the kitchen eating popcorn.
“Lucy?”
“Yes.” Lucy didn’t even look at Josie. This was going to be even harder than Josie had thought.
“Lucy, I’m sorry I splashed your new jacket.”
Lucy didn’t say anything. She just looked down.
Josie took a deep breath. “I’m going to help Mom clean it. And I’m sorry that I told Mom I didn’t do it on purpose. I told her a lie. Will you forgive me?”
Lucy sat still for a few seconds. Then she took a deep breath and looked at Josie. “Yes, I’ll forgive you.”
All at once the yucky, heavy feeling in Josie’s tummy went away. She felt as clean as her new rain boots had been. She felt hungry too. “Can I have some popcorn?” she asked.
“Sure, Sis,” Lucy said. She smiled as she handed Josie the bowl.

Ten years after John Taylor and Wilford Woodruff arrived in England, my own great-grandfather, Henry Ballard, was introduced to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints by a faithful member:
“Henry was only seventeen years old at the time he joined the Church [in 1849]. … Sometime during the winter months of 1849, Henry traveled to London News, a community … north of London, to live with his married brother George [who] … had established a fairly successful carriage business in the area. They had much to offer Henry—especially material things. George was always kind to Henry, and being eleven years older, felt the need to protect and watch after his welfare. The following incident bears this out.
“It was Sunday evening, and Henry had just returned from church. George, curious about Henry’s whereabouts, inquired as to where he had been. ‘To church,’ Henry replied. George, having already attended church without seeing Henry there asked, ‘What church?’ ‘The Mormon church,’ Henry said truthfully. Amazed and astonished, George vocally wondered why, in heaven’s name, would he attend the ‘detestable’ Mormon church. ‘Because I am a member of it,’ replied Henry. Henry then bore his testimony of the truthfulness of what he believed to be the only true church. George, unconverted, became angry.
“George reprimanded Henry severely and told him he had just made the biggest mistake of his life. Henry remained firm, but feared what his older brother might do.
“When George could see he was getting nowhere, he enlisted the support of his minister. Three days passed as they tried to persuade Henry to change his mind. First one would pray, then the other, in an effort to save Henry. Henry held steadfastly to his convictions, never wavering nor doubting. The Holy Ghost had told him the Church was true. He dared not deny it. Convinced no argument of reason … would ever change Henry’s mind, George took another approach.
“As Satan tempted Christ, George tempted Henry—or tried to. He offered to give him the best carriage in all of London. He would give him a coachman to drive him around and cater to all of his whims. Henry would be a gentleman as he presented himself in his fine clothes, kidskin gloves, and silk hat.
“How could Henry refuse the hospitality of George’s fine home for as long as he wished? Henry would never have to work, unless it became his desire. A part of the business would be his, and he would never again live in poverty, as his father and mother had all their lives. No religion would be worth losing all this. George only asked for Henry to give up the ‘foolish notion’ of Mormonism.
“Like [the Prophet] Joseph Smith, Henry kept the faith. His testimony and strength of character prevailed.
“George was explosive. He expelled Henry from his home—forever. Henry left, heavy of heart over being such a disappointment to the brother he loved, a brother who had been so kind and giving. Henry was never to set eyes on him again in this life” (Douglas O. Crookston, editor, Henry Ballard: The Story of a Courageous Pioneer, 1832–1908 [1994], 4–6).

Recently I met an intelligent young man with great potential. He was undecided about a mission. He has decided not to attend a university now. In his free time he only does what he likes to do. He doesn’t work because he doesn’t have to, and it would take time from pleasure. He passed seminary classes without much thought of personally applying the knowledge gained. I noted: “You are making choices today that appear to give you what you want: an easy life, abundant enjoyment, and not much sacrifice. You can do that for a while, yet every decision you make narrows your future. You are eliminating possibilities and options. There will come a time, and it won’t be too distant, where you are going to spend the rest of your life doing things you don’t want to do, in places you don’t want to be, because you have not prepared yourself. You are not taking advantage of your opportunities.”
I mentioned how everything I treasure today began to mature in the mission field. Missionary service is not something we do for ourselves, yet great growth and preparation for the future is gained from a mission. There they focus outside of themselves on other people. They draw close to the Lord and really learn His teachings. They find individuals interested in the message but not sure of its worth. Missionaries try with every capacity—prayer, fasting, and testifying—to help individuals embrace the truth. A mission teaches one to be led by the Spirit, to understand our purpose for being on earth and how to accomplish it. I gave him a blessing. As he left, I prayed earnestly that the Lord would help him choose the right priorities. Otherwise, he will fail in life’s purpose.

Carl and his friend Spencer liked to play with toy race cars and soldiers. One day, Spencer had to go home before they were finished playing.
“What a mess you boys made!” Mommy said. “You’d better clean your room before dinner.”
Carl frowned. He didn’t think he could ever put away all the toys that he and Spencer had accidentally spilled. He started to pick them up one by one, but there were so many! He went to the kitchen, where Mommy was cooking. “It’s too hard to clean my room.”
His sister, Kimberly, was setting the table. “Cleaning is easy,” she said.
Mommy kept slicing vegetables. “Try a little harder,” she said.
Carl went back to his room and picked up a few race cars, but there were many more still on the floor. “I’ll be cleaning forever!” he thought. He went back to the kitchen and said, “It’s too hard to clean my room.”
“Cleaning is easy,” Kimberly said again. She finished setting the table and disappeared down the hall.
Daddy was stirring juice. “You can do it,” he said. “You made the mess, so cleaning it up is your special job.”
Carl went back to his room and picked up several soldiers. But there were still many more on the floor, and he was getting tired. “Spencer helped make this mess, and he went home and no one is helping me clean it up,” he thought. “It isn’t fair!”
He ran back to the kitchen. “The mess is too big to clean up by myself,” he wailed.
Mommy’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe you have too many toys,” she teased. “Would it be easier to clean your room if we gave some of them away?”
“No!” Carl stomped back to his room in tears.
When he opened the door, he could hardly believe his eyes! There were no more toys on the floor. He wiped away his tears and peeked into the toy box. Like magic, race cars and soldiers were stacked neatly inside. Then he saw Kimberly hiding in the corner.
“Surprise!” she yelled.
“How did you clean my room so fast?” He was so happy!
“Cleaning is easy,” Kimberly said. “I’m older than you are, so some chores are easier for me. Next time I’ll show you a game I learned that helps me to clean faster.”
“But why did you clean my room?” Carl asked. “Daddy said it was my special job.”
“Jesus helps us to do things that are hard. This time, I think He wanted me to help you with your special job.” She hugged Carl. “Jesus wants us to make other people happy.”
Carl was happy because Kimberly had helped him. He was so happy that he wanted to please Jesus by making others happy, too. He started by squeezing Kimberly tight and saying, “Thank you!”

During a period when I was preparing to be shipped to Northern Ireland, a new recruit joined my platoon, as my replacement. The thing I remember most about him was that he was always very calm and I used to wonder how he could be like that, in the midst of what our work entailed. Every morning he would put a book called The Book of Mormon on his pillow. I did not know what it was about, and my departure prevented me from learning; I never saw him again. Fast forward to the year 2000. I was trying to recover from the loss of my mother, when, following a prayer to God for peace and comfort, a few days later, missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints knocked on my door. That was when I became aware of the content of The Book of Mormon. Following in-depth discussions, I made the decision to be baptised and so began my new life in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Robert Louis Stevenson captured this constant struggle between good and evil in the classic novel about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The story tells us that in the beginning “Dr. Jekyll is a highly respected London physician, a good and kindly man, who in his youth had showed inclinations toward evil which, however, he succeeded in suppressing. Interested in drugs, the doctor now chances upon one which enables him to change his external form to that of a repulsive dwarf, the very embodiment of evil, whom he calls Mr. Hyde. A similar dose permits him to return to the form and personality of the benevolent doctor. Many times the doctor becomes Mr. Hyde, thereby giving this side of his nature more and more power. Jekyll finds it increasingly difficult to regain his virtuous entity and also finds himself occasionally becoming Hyde without the use of the drug.” In the character of Mr. Hyde, he commits murder, and when the drug will no longer restore him to the kindly Dr. Jekyll, the truth is discovered and Hyde kills himself. The misuse of drugs destroyed his life. So it can be in real life.

It was only two days before the junior prom, and all the junior class was looking forward to one of the great events in the life of a high school girl.
To make it an even more memorable experience, the senior boys had drawn up a list of all the girls in the junior class. They made it their duty to be sure that each girl had a date. It was a wonderful gesture, and because of them, every girl in the junior class had a date. Everyone but me, that is.
Somehow I had been overlooked. The knowledge of that only added to my embarrassment, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone, not even my closest friends. I felt sure I would be able to live through this and simply hide away in my room for the night eating peanut butter cups. Everyone would be too caught up in the spectacular evening to realize I wasn’t there.
But that plan was also not to be my fate. I was reminded that the junior girls on the drill team were required to perform the "Couples Dance" after the introduction of class members. I would have to go to the prom without an escort, perform the dance, and leave by myself. Everyone in the world would know that I didn’t have a date to that all-important dance.
Two nights before the prom I locked myself in my room to perform the peanut butter cup ritual that I had earlier envisioned would take place on the night of the prom. I lit a solemn candle as a reminder that I alone carried this humiliating burden. Before I could take the first pitiful bite of candy, the tears were already racing down my face. What a lonely, sad creature I was. What a terrible day to remember and someday explain to my grandchildren, "Oh yes, the junior prom is a night I will never forget." I pictured myself quickly changing the subject with them so they wouldn’t know what a reject their old granny had been.
But as I sobbed in the middle of the greatest agony I had experienced in my young life, a wonderful, warm feeling of peace and love engulfed me. There were no words spoken to my mind, but suddenly I had full knowledge that I was not alone. My Savior was aware of my sorrow, very much aware. He had not forsaken me even when the outcome was not essential to my salvation. He cared enough for me to let me know He shared in my pain.
What a spectacular knowledge this was. Suddenly, my memories of the prom would not be as tarnished as I had imagined. One of the greatest truths of my life had been taught to me in a very special, loving way.
After that moment of sadness, everything changed. The next day the error was discovered and quickly rectified. Several boys apologized and insisted that they thought I already had a date. They were very thoughtful and concerned, and soon I had an escort.
The night of the prom was great, but it was nothing compared to what I had just experienced. Even though the decorations were beautiful, my dress was perfect, and I had that all-important date, that night could never compare to the feeling I had when the Spirit bore witness of the great love my Savior has for me. His love never fails, even when our pain is temporary, or even seemingly silly. It wasn’t essential to my salvation to go to the prom, but it is essential to know of the great love the Lord has for each of us. Now I know I’ll be able to truthfully tell my grandchildren that the junior prom was one of the greatest experiences of my life.