Gospel Story Finder

When the missionaries took us to church in Frankfurt, Germany, I met a young man who appeared to have an obvious interest in me. He always tried to be close to me. He even influenced the sacrament table seating so he could pass the sacrament to me.

It took me quite a few years to realize that he was the man I wanted to be with for the rest of my life and beyond. He had finished a major part of his education and had spent two years far away from Germany to become a fighter pilot in the Air Force. He was quite insistent in his courting, and a true gentleman. He is still very much the same in this regard.

We married and soon had two children, a girl and a boy. When they grew up, they married, like us, in the Swiss temple. Now we have six grandchildren and five great-grandchildren. They are our treasure at the end of the rainbow. We love them and they love us. Some of them have already served missions.

All these blessings came into our lives because two missionaries had the desire and the courage to serve. These blessings came to us because temples are a central part in our conversion stories. They came about because the gospel and Church of Jesus Christ is back on earth again.

When I first learned to write, I wrote everything backwards, in a mirror image. Later I learned to write my letters in the right direction, but my handwriting was very sloppy. My mother was worried, but Mrs. Leroy, my second-grade teacher, said, “He’s doing well in math and in other areas, so don’t worry about his handwriting. It will improve.”
Sometimes you wonder if you’re progressing or not. But if any of us looked back to when we were in kindergarten, we could certainly see we have made progress. You’re getting better and better in every way.

My understanding of those words deepened soon after our family departed Newbury Park, California, to serve in the Utah Ogden Mission in 2015. I received an invitation to tour Hill Air Force Base near Layton, Utah. I had never been on a military base, nor had I met a military chaplain or the men and women who work to provide safety and protection for their country.
Chaplain Harp, like thousands of other volunteer and professional chaplains who serve in our prisons, hospitals, and military installations around the world, inspired and uplifted me. Our last stop on the base was the sanctuary. I asked the chaplain if he administered services for all people who desired to ponder, pray, meditate, and worship. He went to the front wall of the chapel, and he pulled a cross from behind the curtains. He said he used the cross for Protestant and Catholic services. I asked what he used for our Jewish brothers and sisters, and he went to the other side of the front wall, and he pulled out a Star of David.
I then asked, “What do you do for Latter-day Saint services?” He pushed those symbols away and pointed to the large wooden altar in the middle of the sanctuary. He said that members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints prepare and bless the bread and water on the altar. I asked if the large, seemingly fixed altar was removed before the services of our Jewish, Muslim, Catholic, or Protestant brothers and sisters. He said that the altar stays in place, for several of those faiths also utilize the altar in some way.
Abraham built an altar, bound Isaac, and was ready to sacrifice his only son, but his hand was stayed, and he declared, like the Lord has declared, “Here am I”! How many times has the Great I Am or one of His prophets volunteered, “Here am I”?
During His Sermon on the Mount, the Savior invited us to reconcile with our brothers and sisters before we approach the altar. Paul taught that we are “sanctified” at the altar through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
The prophet Lehi “left his house … and his precious things. … [Then] he built an altar …? and made an offering … , and gave thanks unto the Lord.”
The Bible and the Book of Mormon teach us to worship the Son of God at altars. Why?
Our first parents, Adam and Eve, built and worshipped at altars. After they were cast out of the Garden of Eden and had worshipped for “many days,” an angel visited and asked a poignant question that could be asked of each of us: “Why dost thou offer sacrifices unto the Lord?”
Adam answered, “I know not.”
The angel’s response to Adam’s humble admission is stunning: “This … is a similitude of the sacrifice of the Only Begotten of the Father. … Wherefore, thou shalt do all that thou doest in the name of the Son, and thou shalt repent and call upon God in the name of the Son forevermore.”
The sacrament table and temple altars symbolize the sacrifice of Jesus Christ and His infinite Atonement.
As we make and honor our covenants, receiving the ordinances of the sacrament at church and the endowment and sealing at the temple, we bind ourselves to the Savior, gaining greater access to His mercy, protection, sanctification, healing, and rest.
As a 15-year-old young man, I asked my dad if I could skip sacrament meeting—just one Sunday in January for a special American football game. He said I was old enough to make that choice for myself and asked me to consider one piece of counsel. He said, “If you choose to miss the sacrament once, it’s much easier to choose to miss it again.”
If the Savior is the great connector, then the adversary is the separator. He, Satan, tempts us to separate ourselves from our consecrated places of worship and from the protection of Jesus Christ. When we worship the Savior, we receive “power to go against the natural worldly flow.” When we spend time in communion with Him, we have a promise to be “delivered from Satan.” “Then, as we keep our covenants, He endows us with His … strengthening power.” Oh, how I cherish the experience of communing with the Savior through covenants made at holy altars.
Building an understanding of the Savior’s eternal Atonement line upon line, precept upon precept, provides a spiritual inoculation against the wiles of the adversary. Young Elder Jaggi in Mexico, Zuster Jaggi in Belgium, and other missionaries throughout the world are much more likely to see their friends claim the blessings of baptism and receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost if their friends attend sacrament meeting within the first week of contact.
A young adult in Tonga or Samoa is much more likely to be sealed in the house of the Lord if they have prepared for and received their endowment soon after graduating from school. In the endowment, members are invited to live, obey, and keep five laws which imbue their lives with power and protection. As we make covenants with the Lord, a reciprocal relationship forms. We demonstrate our loyalty and love to Him. Our strength and power grow with each promise made and kept.
When we humbly and symbolically kneel at the altars of the Lord, it is an opportunity for reflection, “checked as to the pride of [our] hearts, … [humbling ourselves] before God.” Before I went out with my friends as a youth, my mother would often say, “Remember who you are, and check in when you get home.” Some nights I missed my check-in because I arrived home too late. I regret missing those important visits with Mom.
Today I look forward to check-in connections with Heavenly Father. In my daily pattern of personal worship, I kneel in prayer, next to my bed or gathered with family, and I envision myself kneeling at the altars, reflecting on and examining my life. I think about the sacrament, even whole pieces of bread, broken and torn for us, each a symbol of our Savior’s broken body. I’m reminded of President Dallin H. Oaks’s teaching that “each piece of bread is unique, just as the individuals who partake of it are unique.” When I kneel in prayer, I think on how I can give God my will.
Elder David A. Bednar taught that “the ordinance of the sacrament is a holy and repeated invitation to repent sincerely and to be renewed spiritually. The act of partaking of the sacrament, in and of itself, does not remit sins. But as we prepare conscientiously and participate in this holy ordinance with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, then the promise is that we may always have the Spirit of the Lord to be with us. And by the sanctifying power of the Holy Ghost as our constant companion, we can always retain a remission of our sins.”
When Amy and I look closely at our life experiences, we celebrate the gift of Jesus Christ’s perfect love and sacrifice. We also see how hell’s fury has been loosed. How can we overcome stares of judgment, anxiety, depression, cancer, diabetes, online bullying, stolen identity, lost pregnancies, the loss of a child, a brother, and a father? Because Jesus took of the bitter cup of trembling, the cup of fury—for me, for my family, for all of us!
Gethsemane, by Adam Abram, courtesy of altusfineart.com © 2025
The “bitter cup” He drank in the Garden of Gethsemane and His suffering, “intensified” on the cross at Calvary, allow us to lay the hard, the insolent, the violent, the furious, and the trembling upon the altars of the Lord and be “sanctified by the reception of the Holy Ghost,” always.
Sister Patricia Holland said, “My deepest prayer for you and for myself today is that we will give over completely, lay ourselves at the altar of God’s promises and peace no matter where we are and no matter what we have done.”
When we come to the altar, we aren’t earning a reward; we are learning about the Gift Giver. In that learning and covenant binding comes healing. Nephi said, “He hath filled me with his love, even unto the consuming of my flesh.” And our loving Savior invited, “Will ye not now return unto me, and repent of your sins, and be converted, that I may heal you?”
When our two oldest daughters, Mackenzie and Emma, were little, one of their favorite stories was The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. We all fell in love with the lion, Aslan. One of our most memorable nights reading the book was when the great lion gave his life for Edmund. Memorable because parents and daughters shed tears as the lion’s life was taken on the Stone Table by the Witch. Memorable because hope persisted, despite the tragedy, until the spectacular happened. Squeals of joy resounded in that little bedroom when Aslan was resurrected and said, “If [the Witch knew the true meaning of sacrifice], … she would [know] that [if] a willing victim who had committed no treachery [died] in a traitor’s stead, the [Stone] Table would crack and Death itself would [begin to unwind].”
Jesus Christ heals all wounds. Jesus Christ makes it possible to live again.
In his October 2022 general conference talk, President Russell M. Nelson described a tour group coming through a temple open house. A young boy was there. President Nelson taught:
“When the tour group entered an endowment room, the boy pointed to the altar, where people kneel to make covenants with God, and said, ‘Oh, that’s nice. Here is a place for people to rest on their temple journey.’
“... He likely had no idea about the direct connection between making a covenant with God in the temple and the Savior’s stunning promise:
“‘Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest?.
“‘Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; … and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
“‘For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light’ [Matthew 11:28–30; emphasis added].”
“The Son of Man has no place to lay his head,” yet He invited His disciples, you and me, to the sacrament table to rest with Him there. When “humble souls at altars kneel,” peace abounds. Our Savior’s arms are outstretched; His table is spread. Come worship the Son of God at His holy altars. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Josh carefully colored in the last black spot on his white T-shirt. Normally he’d be grounded for a million years for coloring on his clothes. But Mom said it was OK this time. Josh was going to a Primary activity, and all the kids were supposed to dress up like their favorite book or movie character. Josh was going as Dex the Dalmatian, the mystery-solving dog!
After Mom dropped Josh off, he spotted Robbie and Nate from his Primary class. Robbie looked like a pirate, and Nate was some kind of superhero.
“What are you supposed to be?” Robbie asked when Josh came closer.
“I’m Dex from Sticky Ricky.”
Robbie and Nate laughed. “That show is so lame!” Robbie said.
Josh felt his face go red. “Well, who did you guys dress up as?”
“Can’t you tell?” Robbie asked. “I’m Percy, from The Pirate’s Revenge.”
“And I’m Captain Scorpio,” said Nate. “You seriously haven’t seen those movies? Everybody has!”
Josh looked down. “I guess my family watches different kinds of shows.”
Just then Sister McCarthy called everyone to get in a circle for a game. Josh made sure he was far away from Robbie and Nate.
The next week, Josh played basketball with some other boys from Primary. He tried his best, but he wasn’t very good at it. He couldn’t bounce the ball right or make a basket. The other boys laughed when he couldn’t throw the ball very high.
Josh ran home, trying not to cry. I’m not doing that ever again! I don’t even like sports! he thought. And I’m not going to any more Primary activities, either. I just don’t fit in. When Josh got home, he played the piano to calm himself down. Then he read his favorite book until he felt better.
A few weeks later, a boy named Mark moved into Josh’s ward. Josh could tell right away that he was cool and popular and good at sports. Would he make fun of Josh like the other boys did?
But he was actually really nice! Mark sat by Josh and talked with him about a book he was reading. A few days later he invited Josh to play basketball.
Josh didn’t really want to play basketball. It had been pretty awful last time. But maybe with Mark there it would be better. He decided to give it another chance.
The first time Josh tried to shoot the ball, it didn’t get very far. It dropped to the ground and bounced away. Josh froze, waiting for Mark to laugh at him. But instead, Mark just grabbed the ball and smiled.
“Hey, good try!” Mark passed the ball back to Josh. “Try again.”
Later, during a game, Mark kept passing the ball to Josh. Their team lost, but Mark didn’t seem mad about it.
“Great game!” he said with a smile. “If you want, we could stay and practice for a little while.” Mark taught Josh how to hold the ball when he was shooting and how to aim for the basket. After a little while, Josh made a basket!
“Awesome!” Mark gave Josh a high five.
“Thanks for helping me,” said Josh.
“It was fun! See you tomorrow?”
“OK!”
As Josh walked home, he couldn’t stop smiling. He was glad to have a friend like Mark. And maybe one day, he could be a friend like Mark to someone else.

One story about her that I will never forget came to me by divine design while I was an undergraduate student attending an institute class in California in the early 2000s. Our institute director at the time, Paul Browning, told us the story of how his nonmember father was converted to the gospel by a ward missionary during his childhood in San Diego. He said that the ward missionary was a no-nonsense “Hawaiian” woman named “Sister Craven” who visited their home, handed his father a copy of the Pearl of Great Price, and said, “read this, and get baptized already.”

Despite numerous previous attempts to convert his father, something about Grandma Noanoa convinced Brother Browning, and he was baptized in a matter of weeks. When I told my institute teacher that I was her descendant, his eyes filled with tears as he explained that his father’s conversion changed the trajectory of their family and blessed their lives immensely. I didn’t go to institute that day thinking that I would learn something new about my family history from a stranger. Now, he did get a couple of things wrong, since she was Samoan and not Hawaiian, and our family surname is Cravens, not Craven, but hearing this story about her taught me that she had a testimony of the gospel and was unafraid to share it with others. Shortly before she died, my grandfather Bill took her back to visit San Diego where over 1,000 people attended a dinner held in her honor as thanks for her influence on their lives during her time as a ward missionary.

In an effort to create replicas of the golden plates for the Museum of Church History and Art, historians have studied and compiled all the accounts from those who saw or felt the plates and then used that knowledge—and some educated guesses—to create three sets of golden plates for display. Each set varies a little in color, weight, and dimensions. The plates were created as part of the celebration of the 200th anniversary of Joseph Smith’s birth.

With all these descriptions, historians have little more than a general idea of what the plates look like. But they’ve done the best they can with the information they have.

The process to create the replicas of the plates was long and a little complicated. First, thin copper plates were created and coated in black acid-resistant paint. More than 150 volunteers, many of them youth, then used sharp metal tools to scratch characters into the black surface, exposing the copper beneath. The museum provided examples of what the characters might have looked like.

“This isn’t as much work as the ancient prophets did,” said April Rowbury, 15, of the Provo Eighth Ward, Provo Utah East Stake. “It was hard, but it wasn’t as hard as it was for them, because they had to engrave on the actual metal.”

“This is all very speculative,” says Kirk Henrichsen, a senior exhibit designer for the Church museum. “We’ve made them as accurately as we could with the information that we have, but I’m sure if Mormon came to look at them he would just laugh!”

After the volunteers engraved the characters in the black paint, the next step was to soak the plates in a copper etching solution. The solution ate away at the exposed copper, leaving the surfaces beneath the black paint intact. The solution was then rinsed off, and kerosene was used to clean off the remaining black acid-resistant paint. Soapy water cleaned off the kerosene, and then the clean copper plates were electroplated.

Electroplating coats the plates in a thin layer of a golden colored alloy of gold and silver, called electrum. Electrum is not as heavy or as precious as gold. Black ink will then be rubbed into the etched characters to make them more visible.

Soon after I completed my schooling at Utah State, I was working as a Music Therapist in south Louisiana. I was fortunate, and blessed to become well acquainted with my landlords, MaryAnne and Lindy Hoffmann, in the town of Thibodaux, Louisiana. The Hoffmanns owned the music store in Thibodaux. They had no children of their own, and they treated me like a daughter from the very beginning. Lindy was a drummer, and MaryAnne played the piano and clarinet. They were "my people" immediately. We became fast friends, and my parents back in Utah were very grateful to know that their still quite shy daughter was being looked after. They invited me to join them playing in the community band, which I did, and loved. I taught oboe lessons in the back rooms of the music store, and was invited to an occasional dinner. We spent lovely Sunday afternoons in the upstairs great room. But the thing I enjoyed most were my chats with MaryAnne in the evenings after work on the swing in the back yard of their beautiful southern home. They could see in me the teacher and musician that I had always wanted to be. I was working as a music therapist, but they helped me achieve my true dream of being in front of a band! These wonderful people helped initiate a change in my life that eventually brought me here to BYU-Idaho. When the time was right, I moved back to Utah and began my career as a high school band director.

The Hoffmanns are much like my own parents. They are hard workers, they are committed to serving others, they love their family, they are good, and they are honest people. I love being in their company. I always want to be the best I can be when I am in their presence. Lindy and MaryAnne are not members of our church. They have always been supportive of my beliefs and way of life, and the way they live their lives they might as well be members. One of my greatest hopes is that I have been as positive of an influence in their lives as they have been in mine. I have visited my sweet friends several times over the years, but not enough. I spoke with them on Mother's Day just a few weeks ago. They are aging, and I think of them often. They are givers. Their influence on me was life changing. They have been, and are, a blessing beyond my description, and I love them so!

This story happened in Nicaragua.
Vanessa waved goodbye to Mami and walked into the church building. Some of her friends were already here! She loved Primary activities.
Sister Fonseca was setting up a craft table. There were ribbons, colored strings, and stickers. Vanessa couldn’t wait to find out what they would be making!
After the prayer, Sister Fonseca gave some instructions. “Today we will make gift bags. You can give them to someone you love.” She handed a brown paper bag to each child.
Vanessa was excited to start decorating. She chose a yellow heart sticker and put it on the front of the bag.
Next, Vanessa folded a paper to make a card. “You are a child of God,” she wrote. She drew lots of stars and hearts on it.
Sister Lopez passed out some cookies and cupcakes to put inside their bags. Vanessa put the card inside too. Perfect!
Soon Mami came to pick her up. “Look!” Vanessa held her bag up for Mami to see. “It’s to give to someone special.”
“Beautiful!” Mami said. “Who will you give it to?”
“I don’t know,” Vanessa said. “I want to give it to someone who needs love.” Then Vanessa had an idea. “Can we go for a walk to find someone to give it to?”
“Sure,” Mami said. “Let’s go!”
Vanessa held Mami’s hand and carried her bag of love in her other hand. They turned down a quiet street. Maybe someone here needs love, Vanessa thought.
But as they walked, Vanessa frowned. There was no one on the street!
“Let’s try going this way.” Mami led Vanessa down another road. But again, no one was outside.
Vanessa sighed. “What should we do?” she asked.
“Why don’t you say a prayer in your mind?” Mami said. “Ask Heavenly Father to guide you to someone you can help.”
They turned down one more street, and Vanessa said a silent prayer. Heavenly Father, please help me find someone who needs some love.
A few minutes later, Vanessa saw a little boy walking on the sidewalk.
Vanessa’s face lit up with a smile. “Hi,” she said to him. “I want to give this to you.” She held out the bag.
At first, the boy looked confused.
“It’s OK. You can take it,” Mami said gently.
Slowly, the boy reached out and took the bag. A big smile spread across his face.
“I made it for you with a lot of love,” Vanessa said.
Vanessa felt happy as she watched the boy run back to his house. She knew he was special to Heavenly Father.
How did Vanessa share Heavenly Father’s love?
Illustrations by Vicky Scott

Hilary Ashford knows how hard it is for a teenager in Wales to find a job. It took her a long while.

“I was walking in Cardiff one day thinking, ‘I need some money.’” She even said a little prayer. “Then I saw this craft shop, and I just went in and asked them if they had a Saturday job where I could help out.” They took her name and phone number, but never called. “Six weeks later I went back and asked again.” Again, no call. So Hilary went back a third time. “And they said, ‘We’ve been thinking about you. Come Saturday and you can start.’”

Patience and perseverance paid off. That’s part of belonging—creating a place for yourself, helping others get used to having you around. It’s a lesson that would continue.

“They had hot drinks—every few minutes, it seems. There’s a good stock of coffee and tea downstairs,” Hilary explains. “It was only natural that they noticed I was drinking chocolate instead. I got to explain why I couldn’t drink tea and coffee because it’s against my religion. And they were fine about it. I found I can have my standards and fit in just fine.”

Brother Ringger comes from Switzerland. His grandmother was touched by the missionaries a long, long time ago. His father was a man of great faith, a patriarch in the midst of his people, in a very literal way. Brother Hans Ringger has been a stake president among his people and a Regional Representative. He is a man of faith. His English may not be as polished as perhaps yours is. But there burns in his heart a deep, flaming conviction of the truth of this work. By profession, he is a distinguished architect in his native land. He has just retired as a full colonel from the Swiss Army. When I talked with him the other day about his leaving his business and consecrating himself to the work of the Lord and what it would entail, I looked into his strong face, and the tears began to well just a little. Then he said, “Of course, of course. If that’s what the Lord wishes, that’s what I want to do.”

Several years ago Sister Packer and I went to Oxford University. We were looking for the records of my seventh great-grandfather John Packer. Dr. Poppelwell, the head of Christ’s College at Oxford, was kind enough to have the archivist of Christ’s College bring the records. There in the year 1583, we found my ancestor’s name, John Packer.

The following year we returned to Oxford to present a beautifully bound set of the standard works for the library at Christ’s College. It seemed a bit awkward for the head of Christ’s College, Dr. Poppelwell. Perhaps he thought we were not really Christians. So he called for the college chaplain to receive the books.

Before handing them to the chaplain, I opened the Topical Guide and showed him references to one subject: 18 pages, very fine print, single-spaced, listing references to the one subject of Jesus Christ. It is the most comprehensive compilation of scriptural references on the subject of Jesus Christ that has ever been assembled in the history of the world—a testimony from the Old and New Testaments, Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price.

However you follow these references, I told him, side to side, up and down, book to book, subject after subject, you will find that they are a consistent harmonious witness to the divinity of the mission of the Lord Jesus Christ—His birth, His life, His teachings, His Crucifixion, His Resurrection, and His Atonement.

The atmosphere changed and we were cordially given a tour, including an excavation revealing recently discovered murals which dated to Roman days.

I love everything about Christmas: the lights, carols, time with family—everything we do to celebrate the birth of Jesus. Oh, and I especially love getting presents. I start making my Christmas wish list in September.
One year my list was about as long as my arm. And I kept thinking of things to add to it. I was excited to show it to my dad. “Well, David, I see what you want to get for Christmas,” he said as he looked it over. “But what are you going to give?”
“I’m making gifts for you and Mom at school. On Friday Mom is taking me shopping for Shannon’s and Jon’s gifts. So I’ve got it all planned out.”
“Hmmm,” was all Dad said. For some reason he didn’t like my answer. I didn’t like the sound of “hmmm.”
The next family home evening, my parents discussed the idea of giving and getting and the true meaning of Christmas. I could see my wish list getting shorter by the minute. They asked us if we had any ideas to help us remember to be more giving. Shannon waved her hand excitedly. My older brother, Jon, and I groaned. With Shannon, ideas usually involved doing things for other people, like weeding our neighbors’ gardens.
“Let’s choose some people who are lonely or in need and anonymously leave presents on their doorsteps,” Shannon said with excitement.
“Not a bad idea,” Jon said. “It would be top secret.”
“This might actually be fun,” I thought.
We all agreed that it would be a great plan. We chose two families. One was the Swenson family in our ward. Since Brother Swenson had gone back to school, they never seemed to have enough money. They had lots of kids too, who would love getting Christmas surprises. The other family was Mr. and Mrs. Perez, an older couple who lived down the street. They always seemed a little lonely.
We all went shopping for the gifts. We agreed to buy them using some of the money we would have used for our own presents. That was fine with me. I was having way too much fun choosings toys for the younger Swenson boys. Somehow my stuff wasn’t that important anymore.
We decided to give one gift a night to each family starting 12 days before Christmas. When the first night came, I dressed in black from head to toe, and Jon drove me over to the Swensons’ house. I quietly put the first gift on the porch, rang the doorbell, and ran away as fast as I could. I jumped behind a fence just as one of the kids opened the door. I could hear their surprised voices as they discovered the present. I felt like I would explode with excitement and joy. My life as a Secret Giver had begun.
Things only got better—and harder. We had to go at different times every night and sometimes even in the morning because the Swenson kids started looking out the window to try to catch us. And every time I crept up to the Perez’s doorstep, I imagined Mrs. Perez waiting there, ready to fling the door open, give me a hug, and tell me how wonderful I was. I definitely had to avoid that. Keeping a secret was half the fun.
Well, that year was only the beginning. The Christmas after that, we chose a family whose daughter had been in the hospital 11 times that year and another family whose mom had cancer. Wow—I didn’t realize that some people had it so tough. Now that Christmas is here again, we’ve decided to help three families. The hardest part is choosing them. There seem to be so many people who could use a little Christmas cheer.
As for my own list? Each year it has gotten a little shorter. I’m so busy making my Secret Giver plans that I don’t have much time to think about myself. There are gifts to choose and strategies to plan.
One thing is certain—it’s great doing things for others. Nothing beats the feeling I get when I see the surprise and excitement on the faces of the people we help. Giving has become one of my favorite things about Christmas.

Years later I received a similar call late at night in a hotel in Japan. I was then the new commissioner of education for the Church. I knew that President Gordon B. Hinckley was staying somewhere in that same hotel on his separate assignment to Japan. I answered the ringing phone just after I had lain down on the bed to sleep, exhausted by having done all I thought I had the strength to do.

President Hinckley asked in his pleasant voice, “Why are you sleeping when I am here reading a manuscript that we have been asked to review?” So I got up and went to work, even though I knew that President Hinckley could give a better review of a manuscript than I could possibly do. But somehow he made me feel that he needed my help.

For days I had looked forward to my chance to work with the homeless in my city. But that cold Saturday morning it was not easy to feel charitable when I wished I could be back in my warm, comfortable bed. However, I was already committed.
As we arrived at our destination, despite the cold, many were already waiting for the kitchen to open. It was very quiet, and most of the people looked gloomy. There was not one smile or spark in anyone’s eyes, and their dark expressions matched the room they waited in.
I was frightened and decided that I didn’t want to work directly with them. Anyway, what would I say to them? How would I act around them? I didn’t want to make any of them angry with me. Was I supposed to give them pity or treat them like one of my buddies? Yes, it would definitely be easier to just stay away.
As these thoughts went through my head, we were led into a serving area with walls painted yellow, and pictures of rainbows and flowers placed strategically around the room. The brighter room calmed some of my nerves. Perhaps the sunshine and rainbows would subdue the “dangerous” ones.
While I was busy trying to conjure up more pleasant thoughts, the day’s jobs had been announced and I was left as the dishwasher. At least I would not have to interact much with them.
Soon, people began to filter in. Some knew each other, and others looked lost. I was amazed to see how different they all looked. There were even some who I would never have guessed were homeless.
There wasn’t much work for me at first, so I watched the other youth interact with the homeless. The longer I watched, the less scary these people looked to me. Those faces now began to lighten up. Smiles were everywhere, as was the sound of lively chatter. Soon, those who finished eating came and dropped their dishes in front of me. I smiled and tried to look cheerful. Some smiled back. I began to feel a lot better about these people. Maybe they weren’t so bad after all.
Suddenly, it was rush hour. I could barely keep up with the continuous flow of dishes, and my smile soon turned into a grimace and a plea for help. No one seemed to understand what I needed except one man.
Instead of walking off like everyone else, he cleaned off his plate and began to work on the mountain of dirty dishes. He was cheerful and made all those who passed him smile. He talked to me and made my work more enjoyable. This man had few material possessions, but he had a heart and compassion. His dirty appearance did not resemble his character at all. When we were finished, he told my supervisor what a good job I had done. Before I could say a word, he was gone.
In the car on the way home, I could not stop thinking of that kind man. Despite his circumstances he could still be cheerful and help others in need. I wished I could have told him how grateful I was for the example that he set for me.

Becki Jackson’s dream had come true. She had been chosen for one of the starring roles in her high school’s musical production—something she had hoped for since she was a little girl.
With the stress of auditions behind her, Becki looked forward to learning her part. She took the musical score home. But as she looked through the manuscript, she was uncomfortable with many of the songs that seemed to have off-color lyrics and double meanings. And her role was the worst!
This was her senior year—the first year the high school had put on a musical production in a long time. Her one-time opportunity to perform could be spoiled.
Becki and her family, who are from Fisherville, Ontario, Canada, had been members of the Church for two years. Becki’s standards had always been high, but she was determined more than ever to uphold them now that she was a member of the Church and the only Latter-day Saint in her school.
When she went to her first rehearsal for the play, she said, “I told my teacher-director that I wouldn’t sing those songs. He tried to convince me that the lyrics were only supposed to be funny. They didn’t want to lose me as a lead, but, he said, if I felt that strongly they would give me different songs to sing.” And different songs she did get. At the next rehearsal, Becki was assigned to the chorus. No explanation was given. Another girl was assigned Becki’s role and asked to sing the songs.
However, Becki’s classmates were so supportive of her stand that the teachers finally modified the songs by completely removing the verses that Becki had refused to sing.
Becki’s father, Kel Jackson, says, “I knew the strength of Becki’s testimony when I asked her if she was going to continue in the musical or drop out. She answered, ‘I have waited a long time for this and I have worked hard. They may have taken away my part, but they did remove the bad words and I am going to be in this production.’ Through weeks of rehearsal she never again mentioned the situation or complained in any way.”
When asked if she was bitter toward her teachers for their actions, Becki answered, “I didn’t like their attitude about the songs, but they were nice people, and they were working hard to make this a production the school could be proud of.”
Opening night Becki showed great delight in participating in her limited role which included a one-line solo. “Many people questioned why she had not played a larger part,” comments her father. “But it was then that I fully understood that she had played a larger part than any role in the play. She set aside personal desires to act in a manner pleasing to her Father in Heaven. Becki’s example is a reminder that sacrifice for gospel principles will always lead to a starring role.”

Travelling to the Temple in West Africa was often a serious challenge. The Saints in Sierra Leone made an excursion to Ghana to attend the temple. Because of an insurrection it was impossible to cross the border through the Ivory Coast so they travelled three days circumnavigating the Ivory Coast through Burkina Faso. As they travelled, they were stopped by robbers and at gunpoint all their money and personal effects of value were stolen. Blessed to still be alive, they decided to proceed anyway to Ghana where they spent the week seeking the blessings of the temple. Nothing was more important to them than the eternal blessings that could be obtained in no other place than the Temple. Why would they risk so much to go there? They wanted and needed those sacred experiences which have eternal worth.

It was in this bloody climate that Daniel was born. As a youth he was selected to be deported from his home in Judah to Babylon, the center in which Nebuchadnezzar was building his empire. The king was determined to make it the center of the universe, the most beautiful city in the world, with beautiful parks and buildings and, in the city center, a temple to the worship of the gods of Babylon. Thus Daniel was brought into a strange land as a youth—a land with strange customs, a strange tongue, strange environment, and a strange religious foundation, for the Babylonians believed in nature worship.

His first test in being “in the world” came when the king ordered that the ones who had been captured drink of his wine and eat of his rich food. Daniel understood from the commandments that he had been taught by his parents, the commandments of the Lord, that these things were not good for his body. In their homes Daniel and his friends were taught to keep the commandments of God, and they knew it would be wrong to eat and drink of unhealthful things. But how could he explain this knowledge to the leaders of Babylon who did not believe as they did, who even had different gods?

“The king has commanded that thou shalt eat and drink the same as the others,” argued the servant who was responsible for training these young men.

“If thou doest not eat this, and the king sees that thou art growing weak and thin, he will surely have me killed,” was the servant’s reply to Daniel when he came to have his diet changed.

But Daniel begged that he and his friends be allowed to follow the health rules that had been given to them. His response was, “Prove us for ten days. Feed us upon the grains, and let us drink of water; then see if we are not as healthy as the rest.”

The response of this young man was most interesting. He did not try to discount or to argue against the beliefs of the Babylonians. He volunteered to a test to try the two ways to see which would be the better.

The servant agreed to the test. For the next ten days Daniel and those with him ate and drank only the things that they should. At the end of ten days Daniel and his friends were found healthier and stronger than all the rest (See Daniel 1).

Before I joined the Church, my life was full of unhappiness. Following my parents’ divorce when I was seven years old, my father went to prison. My mother was an alcoholic and lost everything that was important to her. I was sent to live with a foster family.
Because of these things, I grew up a lot faster than many of my peers. I never quite felt that I could find my place, and consequently I was constantly in a state of rebellion. When I was still very young, I began smoking and doing other things that I now understand are contrary to the Word of Wisdom. I was certain I was doomed to fail in life.
The one thing I did find happiness in was helping people—whether it was cleaning alongside them or listening to their life stories. I desperately wanted people to know they could depend on me. One year I went on vacation and met an elderly woman I decided to serve by listening to her. She was a Christian and started to talk to me about religion.
I had never really believed in God. At times, when I had thought that maybe He existed, I blamed Him for the troubling things I had experienced. But as this woman described the importance of faith in God, I found myself intrigued. Before I left, she said something that was particularly interesting: “The Mormons follow God’s commandments.”
I had never heard of the Mormons, so I went home, got online, and searched. I arrived at Mormon.org and ordered a free copy of the Book of Mormon. Missionaries delivered it a few days later.
I wasn’t sure I could start to believe in God, but the missionaries helped me discover that I could not only believe in Him but also know Him. As I began to pray and study the Book of Mormon, I found myself on a beautiful journey of finding happiness. I quit smoking. I stopped blaming God and started thanking Him for the good things in my life. I came to know that His Son had suffered for my sins and for all the pain I had ever felt. On October 28, 2007, I was baptized into His Church.
If I hadn’t personally experienced the change from disillusionment to happiness, I wouldn’t believe it is possible. Today I love my calling in Primary and am grateful to have had the opportunity to help organize a service project at a young single adult conference in Poland. To be able to regularly help others through Church service has added to the happiness I have found in the gospel of Jesus Christ. Everything I do now, I do with pure love because of Jesus Christ. I believe that life is beautiful and that even when we have challenges, if we follow the Savior, we won’t be lost.
The woman I met was right: having faith in God is crucial. We cannot find our place in this world if we don’t know Him. I am grateful to finally have a place where I know I belong.

Two mothers in my class tried this, with somewhat different results. One knew her son was upset because he had not done as well as he wanted on a school project and in a musical program for which he had to play an instrument. She found occasion to talk about how miserable she had been when she got a bad grade, feeling down on herself; but she had finally accepted the fact that she could not always be perfect. She told him she knew that he probably got some of his perfectionism from her, and she hoped he would be able to deal with mistakes better than she had. Her son listened with interest and afterward said, “Thanks, Mom, that was a real help.”

The other mother said she had tried to talk with her son about some of her experiences as a teenager and had told him she had felt that sometimes her parents and teachers didn’t understand what she was going through. When she finished, her son asked, “Is that all?” She said yes, and he left without another word.

She interpreted his response as rejection and felt that what she had said to him had no impact at all. My own feeling is that he may have been impressed more than she knew; at least he listened all the way through and did not become defensive, as often happened when she asked him questions or lectured.

After this, my fiancé sent the missionaries to teach me. I told them I already knew the restored gospel was true and that I understood what the Holy Ghost feels like. But I was concerned that it would be difficult for me to give up smoking and drinking coffee and tea.
I began to attend church, read the Book of Mormon, and meet with the sister missionaries three or four times a week. Eventually, the Holy Ghost helped me stop smoking and drinking coffee and tea.