Gospel Story Finder

Of course, for members of the Church, it was difficult for those who were ill to call on the aid of nonmember neighbours; and the great distances between some members made it more difficult to weather the challenges. In October 1918, David Owen was serving in the Leeds area when he received a letter from the Whitehouse family who lived in Penistone, Yorkshire. He travelled about 30 miles to check on and administer to the family, most of whom were ill with influenza. “No one will help them,” wrote David, “because they are Mormons.”18 (We are certainly fortunate in our current age in which prejudices are largely dissipated, and technology offers the ability to minister and comfort from a distance.)

My wife and I have a daughter serving a full-time mission in Spain. That daughter spent her high school years in New Zealand, while I was serving as mission president. When she turned 21, she said, “Dad, Mom, I think I need to serve a mission.” Of course, we were pleased with this righteous decision, but knowing that it had been a sacrifice for her to move away from friends and family during her teenage years, I told her, “You’ve already served a mission.”
She smiled and said, “No, Dad, you have. Now I want to go serve the Lord.”
“OK,” I smiled. “You fill that mission. You follow that prompting to serve.”
Today I am elated that she is not only serving her Heavenly Father and His children in Spain but she is also following the impression she felt. She didn’t let even me—a well-meaning parent—convince her to do anything other than what she felt was right for her life and Heavenly Father’s plan for her.

One Christmas morning I woke early. To my joy, the tree was surrounded with presents. The excitement of discovering what treasures waited inside the wrapping paper made up for the lack of snow.
We were quite poor, and most Christmases were meager. We lived on a farm and always had chores to do, even on Christmas Day. Right after we opened our gifts, my father left to do his chores.
I was praying that my mom wouldn’t make me stop playing with my new race car set to do my chores. When my dad returned, he told me he had done our chores for us. I was excited to spend the entire day in the warm house.
He then said something to my mother about Blanche, an elderly widow down the street who was looking for firewood. That was my dad, always caring for others. It seemed like everybody in town depended on him.
The next thing I knew my father was asking my brothers and me if we wanted to get some wood with him. I couldn’t believe it. On Christmas? I knew that wood was the only way Blanche could cook her food and heat her house. But couldn’t someone else get her firewood? Couldn’t we wait until tomorrow? Or couldn’t we just take her a little from our woodpile? Surely she had enough wood to last until then. But no. My father wanted to go into the woods and get a whole truckload. I complained, but it didn’t do any good.
My dad was very good at getting his boys to help him, and we each had our jobs. My dad would run the chain saw, Grant, my next-to-oldest brother, would split the wood, I would load it into the truck, and another older brother Ron would stack the wood in the back of the truck.
Eager to get back to our toys, we all worked hard. Dad had cut a big tree, and we almost had it loaded. I thought we had plenty of wood, but my dad cut into another big tree.
“This is going to take forever,” I thought. “I’m cold and tired and want to play with my toys, and he is cutting down another tree.”
When we backed up to Blanche’s house and started unloading the wood, I couldn’t believe what I saw. There wasn’t a sliver of wood anywhere in her yard. The only thing she had left to burn was the house itself. I had been worried about losing time playing with my race cars while she was worried about freezing.
As we were unloading the wood, she came out of her house. My dad looked up and said, “Merry Christmas.” She started crying, and my dad got down from the truck to console her. I couldn’t fight back a few tears myself. I tried hard not to let it show, but then I noticed a tear in my brother’s eyes, too. My presents didn’t mean anything to me now. Being able to keep someone from freezing on Christmas Day meant much more to me than all the toys in the world.

As volleyball tryouts approached for my senior year in high school, I couldn’t believe the thought that was running through my head: I wasn’t supposed to play volleyball. I’d played volleyball since seventh grade—why should this year be any different?
Not seeing the sense in quitting, I ignored the feeling and continued to participate in summer volleyball events. After a while the feeling came back, so I decided that if I really wasn’t supposed to be on the team, my coach would just cut me during tryouts.
Then one night at the gym, I couldn’t focus on the game at all. I felt terrible and restless inside. I came home frustrated with my team and with myself. I sat next to my mom and sister and cried. I told them how confused I was, and my mom told me to pray and ask Heavenly Father what He wanted me to do. I went up to my room and began to pray. I told Heavenly Father how I felt, then I asked Him to help me feel peace if I was not supposed to continue playing volleyball. I felt His peace in my heart and knew that I needed to quit.
I’m still not sure all the reasons why that was the right decision, but I know that it’s what the Lord wanted me to do, and that’s a good enough reason for me.
The next morning I told my coach and my teammates that I wasn’t going to be playing. Even though it was incredibly hard, I knew I was doing the right thing.

Second only to the importance of being eternal companions is being an earthly parent. Fathers and mothers need to consider their roles in this great responsibility. My children taught me a great lesson many years ago. Our family had moved from California to New York, where I had accepted a position with a new company. We began the process of finding a new home by looking in communities closest to the city. Gradually, however, we moved farther away from the city to find a home in a neighborhood that suited our needs. We found a beautiful home some distance from New York City. It was a one-story house nestled in the lovely deep woods of Connecticut. The final test before purchasing the home was for me to ride the commuter train into New York and check the time and see how long the commute would take. I made the trip and returned quite discouraged. The trip was one and one-half hours each way. I walked into our motel room where our family was waiting for me and presented to my children a choice.

“You can have either this house or a father,” I said. Much to my surprise they responded, “We will take the house. You are never around much anyway.” I was devastated. What my children were telling me was true. I needed to repent fast. My children needed a father who was home more. Eventually we reached a compromise and bought a home closer to the city, with a much shorter commute. I changed my work habits to allow me to have more time with my family.

In Ephraim’s mind the winter, the cold, the flutelike sound began to dissolve. It was summer, July. The sun burned hot and bright in the sky. There was the spicy, warm smell of hot sagebrush. A lizard with a gray body and bright blue sides sat motionless on a rock with only his transparent eyelids moving.
Sweat streaked Ephraim’s face. He had arrived in Salt Lake Valley a few weeks before and was building his first home. There was a strong frame of thick pine poles. Next to the frame, piles of yellow-brown adobe bricks were stacked neatly. They were good, strong bricks made from fine clay, the finest in the valley.
To help him build the walls, Ephraim had hired a bricklayer. They had finished laying the brick walls waist high when they heard the carriage coming. The lizard vanished beneath the rock.
Brigham Young leaned forward in his carriage. His shirt and trousers were gray with dust.
“Brother Hanks, how thick are you building the walls?”
“Eight inches, President Young.”
Brigham licked his lips, moved his eyes slowly over the building frame and partially finished walls, over the stacked pile of bricks, and then directly into Ephraim’s eyes. Ephraim felt their deep, blue embracing power. Brigham’s lip curled up and a broad smile spread across his face.
“Double that,” he said. “Make those walls 16 inches thick.”
Before Ephraim could ask questions President Young disappeared behind a cloud of dust. The dust settled slow in the still, hot air.
“Sixteen-inch walls,” the bricklayer exhaled. “That’s crazy. That’s twice as many bricks. We’d have to tear everything down, start over. We’d even have to build new frames. Most people only build six-inch walls. Sixteen inches is crazy.”
The bricklayer looked down at his hands and then took off his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. It left a dark streak.
“You’re not going to do it are you, Eph?”
“Sixteen-inch walls,” Ephraim repeated the words. Silent, he watched the dust settle. The lizard came from under the rock and sat motionless in the sun. Ephraim tasted the hot air.
Sixteen-inch walls, why? He thought of the work already put into the house. It would take two more weeks just for brick with 16-inch walls. Was President Young just throwing advice out of the top of his hat?
Ephraim squatted down and drew a circle in the gray soil. The hot stillness was intense. He could hear the bricklayer’s breathing. Anger came into him suddenly. He took a handful of soil in a tight fist.
“No. I will not do it.”
His muscles tensed. The veins stuck out on his arms.
Then he relaxed his hand. The soil sifted through his fingers.
“Have I come this far for nothing? Nauvoo, the Mormon Battalion? I’ve followed him here. I won’t stop now.” He exhaled softly.
“Sixteen-inch walls,” Ephraim smiled and looked at the bricklayer. “Maybe President Young is just throwing advice out of the top of his hat, maybe not. It doesn’t matter. The Lord chose him to lead, and I’m gonna follow.”
A week after the house was finished, the rain came. After a month of no rain, it came in hard driving waves from fierce, black clouds. At first it pocked the earth with small craters, the dry soil unable to hold it, and the water rolled off, cutting little, growing furrows. Then the furrows snaked down and met with a hundred more furrows until the dry wash beds filled with angry, gray water. The floods came out of the canyons, newborn rivers, covering, fanning out, ripping, and tearing.
Then the rain stopped, and the sun sent warm, orange radials down from a rift in the clouds. Most of the new houses along the foothills were gone, clothing, furniture, everything not carried to high ground, lost beneath alluvials of mud and rock.
But in the orange glow the 16-inch walls still stood.

Many leaders on the ward or branch and the stake or district level plan events that bring young women and Relief Society sisters together. Diana Gardner of the Harrogate Ward, York England Stake, says that Laurels were invited to go to the temple to do baptisms on a night when their ward Relief Society sisters were performing endowments. “The Laurels and Relief Society sisters were eating dinner at the cafeteria together and walking around the temple grounds together. Their discussions have had a major impact on the young women,” says Sister Gardner.

In 1976 I joined the BYUH rugby program. A year later I was hooked on the sport. There was nothing else in my mind but rugby. What made things worse, Coach Inoke Funaki announced that BYU-H Seasiders team will be on a tour to the South Pacific: Samoa, Tonga, New Zealand and Fiji. I could visualize this as an opportunity to go home; a chance to see my family.
I knew that it would be a tough thing to accomplish but I was determined to do my best. I knew that only 26 players of the 70 players would be selected on the tour.
The other players were fast, experienced, heavier, and stronger. In comparison with other players, I was skinny, inexperience, light and uncoordinated. I decided to train hard during the week and played my best on Saturdays.
I made it a goal to be on the field for practice before anyone. During the practice I trained hard as if I were playing a real game. I was not fast but it my goal to outrun everybody. The "pain barrier" weeks came and went and I was physically fit. No distance was ever too far for me to run.
When the season started, a miracle happened; I almost made a touch down every game. It was simply from the opponent dropping the pass, and I was the first player to get to it. I was known as the tireless runner.
What most players did not know, I did more work off the field in my preparation for my games. From Monday to Friday, I practiced hard, and I played my best on Saturdays during the games. On Sundays, I fasted for rugby. I suspected that it was probably a silly thing to fast for, but that's the Lord's problem. He promised that if you ask He will give, and that's his to decide. As a result, I was not only doing well as a player, but also off the field as a student.
I made the team and went on the tour, and it was a memorable experience. I achieved far more than I expected from playing the game. I knew the Lord answered my prayer and I gained a stronger testimony of prayer and fasting. That's the best result of my rugby career.

As young missionaries in the missionary training center in Brazil, we had a day assigned to go, as companionships, into the streets of São Paulo to invite people to hear the missionary lessons. After a few hours we came back to the MTC and held a testimony meeting.
Many spoke of promptings they received to go to a specific street or approach a certain person. These experiences sounded marvelous to me. However, because I had no similar experience, I felt that perhaps I was not good enough, or prepared enough, to be a missionary.
Feeling discouraged, I sought help from MTC leadership. They helped me understand that God is willing to give us instructions through the Holy Ghost, and while my experience may not be the same as those of others, I still needed to qualify for the Spirit’s direction. Just like a radio that needs to be tuned to a specific station, or a smartphone that needs to be connected to the internet, we must be both in tune and connected in order to receive what the Holy Ghost communicates to us.
At the MTC, I learned that I needed to be ready to receive whatever the Lord wanted to send me, in His time and His way. I learned that interference can cause us to be so distracted that we will not be able to identify when the Lord is talking to us or to listen carefully to the message He would have us hear.

In 1989, a friend, Father François Laborde, asked Sister Pelous to help set up a home, school, medical dispensary, and farm for forty-seven homeless children—twenty-one of whom were also blind—in Nepalganj, Nepal. From Bengal, Cécile went to Nepal and assessed the needs. Back in Paris, she undertook to raise the necessary funds, but without success. Then an event—that Cécile credits to Heavenly Father’s goodness—saved the project.
A real-estate agency made her a very generous offer for her home, which was ideally located in a suburb near downtown Paris. Cécile immediately accepted their offer. She would buy a less expensive house—though not so rich in memories—and with the money she saved, she could fund the projects in Nepal. The homes and school were built in 1990, and Cécile is now looking for funds for the dispensary and farm projects.

I met him at school when I was 17. He was funny, smart, and really cute, but best of all he was spiritual. We quickly became great friends.
We started dating, always going in groups and keeping it casual. It was fun being with him, and he made me want to be a better person. Although we were never seriously dating, I started to wonder what my Heavenly Father thought about all the time and energy I was putting into this relationship.
I decided to fast and pray about it. I was surprised at how quickly the answer came. I felt the promptings of the Spirit telling me the opposite of what I’d hoped to hear. I knew that I needed to stop spending so much time with my friend, but I wasn’t exactly sure why. Despite my doubts, I wanted to follow what my Heavenly Father had in mind for me. It was hard to tell my friend that I couldn’t see him so often, but I knew it was the right thing to do.
I learned that answers do come through prayer and fasting, and that even when I don’t know why the Lord guides me in a certain direction, I can trust His wisdom. He has prepared a plan for me, and I am happiest when I follow His will.

Christiana smiled as she counted the last of the coins. She carefully placed them in the small wooden box and closed the lid. “It is getting so heavy!” she thought as she slid the box into its hiding place under her bed. “Surely I am the richest girl in all of Denmark!” she exclaimed aloud.
Christiana Pedersen had been tending her father’s sheep for as long as she could remember, watching over them and keeping them safe from harm. She loved the green hills near her home in Oudrup in northern Denmark. She enjoyed spending her days in the open air with the gentle sheep.
Each time her father took the sheep to market or sheared their wool, he gave Christiana part of the money earned. Christiana always put her money into a special box, never spending any of it. Her father would put her on his knee and tease, “Whatever will you do with all that money? You are getting so much!”
“I will save it all,” Christiana would reply. “I don’t know why, but someday I will need it!” Her father would chuckle and shake his head. His daughter was so unlike all the other children her age who spent their coins as soon as they got them. He was proud of Christiana. What a good girl she was!
Christiana was about 20 years old when some men wearing dark suits and coats came to her little village. She heard them on the street corners, talking to passersby about the mysterious book they held in their hands. One day when Christiana and her mother were shopping in the village, they stopped to listen to the men. Christiana learned that they were missionaries from faraway America. They had come to share the restored gospel of Jesus Christ with the people of Denmark. The book was the Book of Mormon, the story of an ancient people who lived in the Americas. Part of the book recounted a visit of Jesus Christ to those people after His Resurrection.
Christiana’s family attended a church in her village, and she already knew about Jesus Christ from her study of the Bible. She had a warm feeling as she listened to the missionaries speak about the Savior. Her mother bought one of the books from the men and accepted a few tracts [pamphlets] that explained the beliefs taught by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Christiana’s father was angry when he heard that his wife and daughter had listened to the missionaries. He forbade them from joining “that American church.”
Her mother had a little wooden chest next to the bake oven where she placed the precious missionary tracts and the Book of Mormon. Christiana continued to read and study them. She was drawn to the sacred words and felt a growing testimony of their truthfulness, but she honored her father and did not meet with the missionaries nor join the Church.
At the age of 21, Christiana decided that she must follow the promptings of the Spirit and be baptized. Her father was furious! “I warn you, Christiana,” he shouted, “if you try to cross the ocean with those Mormons, you will surely be lost at sea. I will not help you with this foolishness.”
Christiana was not frightened by her father’s words; she had a strong testimony that the truth had been restored to the earth. Although she had to leave her home and family to join the Saints in Zion, she was baptized on October 25, 1856.
As Christiana counted the coins in her little treasure box, she knew why she had felt so strongly about saving all the money she had earned tending her father’s sheep. She had just enough to take her to join the Saints who were traveling west to the Great Salt Lake Valley. She was so grateful to her Heavenly Father. He had helped her to know that this money must be saved to help her obtain a treasure greater than all the money in the world—a testimony of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and a place with His Saints.
Christiana Pedersen left the Bol Farm in Oudrup, Denmark, in the winter of 1856, traveling to Copenhagen. She boarded the ship L. N. Hvidt to England on April 18, 1857. In Liverpool, England, she boarded the Westmoreland with 504 other Church converts on April 25, 1857. The ship arrived in Philadelphia on May 31, 1857, after a five-week voyage. She then traveled by train to Iowa City, arriving on July 9. She left three days later with the Seventh Handcart Company, beginning her long walk to Utah. She later married Christian Frederick Nelson Twede and was the mother of eight children. Her mother, Anna Marie, joined her daughter in America in 1878 after Christiana’s father’s death.

I know that you have a great feeling if you live that law. As I say, I give the credit to my parents. I remember after we were married—my wife and I—that I was working my way through school and I was working at the post office eight hours a day and carrying a full course of law. We had lost a baby, and we had a large hospital bill. I decided to quit the post office and start the practice of law. I quit in September and failed to pay tithing in September because I had built up a retirement benefit with the government that was to be paid to me in November, with which I felt I could pay my tithing. But it didn’t come in November and it didn’t come in December. I had to report that year to my bishop that I had not paid a full tithe. But I did not feel good about it, so I kept a record and paid it in installments at 8 percent interest until I had paid the deficit in full. I had a good feeling after I got it paid. I knew the Lord had understood and accepted my performance.

When President Heber J. Grant was a young man, his bishop once said, "What are we going to do with that Grant boy?"

His father, Jedediah M. Grant, had been a member of the First Presidency, and he had died early and left a widowed mother to take care of this boy. The bishop did not think he would amount to much--but he became President of the Church!

When he was in school, an English teacher assigned the class to collect some examples of bad English, to write down the mistakes. He went to Church and heard a speaker who was an immigrant and could not speak English very well. He did not say two sentences until he had made mistakes. This young Heber Grant thought, "I'll fulfill my assignment."

He did not have paper to write on. In those days the boys and the men wore shirt collars and cuffs that were made of celluloid, a kind of plastic. You could write on them. So he got his cuff out, and when the man made a mistake, he wrote it down. He was collecting mistakes in English. Then the same thing happened! He forgot the mistakes and began to listen. The power of the Spirit took over. He left the room both inspired and ashamed.

Summers in San Antonio, Texas, can get hot, very hot. But this particular Saturday in July, the temperature was record breaking, well over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. And best of all—yes, best of all—most of the teens in the San Antonio Texas Stake were lost.
They had forgotten themselves, their own aches and pains, their own problems and worries, and even the heat. They were lost in service to a group of children they would never meet face to face. They were refurbishing the play areas, grounds, and buildings of Providence House, a day-care facility devoted to children with life-threatening illnesses. Because of the children’s illnesses, the group would not be allowed to meet those who would benefit directly from their work.
For these teens, their youth conference was devoted to service, the true kind of service that is given with no thought of reward, even the reward that comes from seeing the smiling faces of children. They had chosen to dress modestly, even though temperatures had virtually never been higher. They chose to work outside or inside until every job was finished. And they chose to work with an attitude that they hoped would please their Heavenly Father.
The adult leaders took every precaution. They made sure teens had plenty to drink and were taking rest breaks in the shade or inside in the air conditioning. They even broke out a shaved-ice machine to serve plenty of cooling, flavored ice. They had also worked carefully with the director of Providence House in identifying exactly what needed to be done so the correct materials and tools were on hand.
Carol Bova-Rice, the executive director of Providence Home and Family Services, said, “I cannot find the words to express our appreciation. Other groups have offered to help, but they didn’t want to do big things. With this group, we planned what really needed to be done in advance, no matter how big. It’s wonderful.”
Taking their theme from the scriptures, the stake youth council agreed on the title “Mission Possible.” They liked the idea that individually they could not accomplish much but “with God all things are possible” (Matt. 19:26). They were particularly excited about combining the usual youth conference dances and barbecues with an outstanding service project. They wanted something substantial so the teens could really pull together to accomplish something big, something that would be memorable, and something that would teach a great lesson of Christlike service.
Hannah Clark, one of the teen co-chairs of the youth conference, explained, “There are some people that need our help. That’s where we need to come in and be like Christ. We need to serve. That is the pure love of Christ. It’s charity. That is the way to do it, by serving, even if we can’t see them and even if we don’t even know who they are. We are becoming more the way that we should be when we do those things.”
“We’ll have to visualize the children coming in,” said Chris Weirich, another youth co-chair, “and seeing the new things in a room, the new murals, all the new materials, the repainted play equipment, the new grow boxes; you just have to visualize it. You won’t see them, but you can still feel their excitement.”
On youth conference Saturday, Providence House was bustling. Everyone was assigned a group, and each group was assigned a job. Because of the red T-shirts issued for youth conference, the scene was literally a sea of moving, shifting colors. Everyone had a cleaning rag, a paintbrush, a broom, a vacuum, a hammer, or a rake in hand. Every spot that needed cleaning was cleaned. Everything that needed a new coat of paint was painted. Every weed was pulled. Every toy was sterilized. Every shelf in the storage closets was stacked with donated food or supplies. The San Antonio Stake youth had indeed taken on the big things.
Even as hot and tired as they were, by early afternoon nearly everything had been finished. The group returned to the stake center for a testimony meeting. One after another, they spoke about the things close to their hearts, about giving service without complaint, about how positive they were about the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Sandra Clark summed up how she felt, saying, “I’ve never been so sore and so happy with everything that’s going on around me. So many things were done with the right spirit this weekend.”
There were some nice, unexpected moments. Brant Ellsworth mentioned one. “When we first got there, we were digging the holes for the grow boxes. Some girls were weeding along the fence, and they started singing. It was so beautiful. They were doing a hard job and singing as they were doing it. It made me think of the pioneers. They didn’t know how their actions would affect other people. They didn’t see us or know how much we appreciate the things they did for us. I felt that same spirit while we were working.”
Two girls, working in the building that houses the nursery and the offices, paused to look at some small metal stars engraved with first names and attached to the wall.
“What are these for?” they asked.
These represent the children at the center who have died from their illnesses, they were told. Suddenly, all the work and effort in such extreme conditions seemed like such a small thing. They had found those that the scripture speaks of when it says, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matt. 25:40).
While planning things that needed to be done at Providence House, several items on the list became good ideas for one person to take on as a Laurel project or as part of an Eagle Scout project.
Steven Ellsworth took on the canned-food drive. Checking with the center about its specific needs, Steven set a goal to collect 750 cans. He also created a Web site to keep stake members informed about youth conference and about what specifically was needed for the food drive.
Amy Kreiger accepted the assignment to create school boxes suitable for the children at the center. She organized painting and assembling the boxes and arranging for the school supplies to go inside.
Megan Baillio was excited to take on the redecorating of several rooms used for children who stay overnight. She worked with her mother in learning to sew quilt tops and curtains for the rooms. She organized groups at the youth conference to tie the quilts.
Esther Crandall accepted the assignment to make baby-sized blankets for the center. She worked with her mother to learn to make blankets with decorative edgings.

I joined the Church in Tainan, Taiwan, in October 1991. Two years later I moved to Taipei to work. Feeling a need to gain more knowledge of the gospel, I enrolled in institute. This decision led to an event that caught me by surprise.
During my second year in institute, we studied the Doctrine and Covenants, and I learned a lot about the temple. I gained a great desire to go to the temple. When I talked to my bishop about going, he suggested ways for me to prepare. In June 1995, I went for an interview with the stake president.
My stake president initially said I was too young to take on the sacred covenants of the temple. His words devastated me, for I had worked hard to prepare and I knew in my heart I was ready. So I pleaded with him to reconsider, explaining that my bishop had sent me to him. I asked if we could at least talk about the possibility. He said, “If you insist, we will talk.”
Near the end of the interview, he asked, “If the Lord asks you to go on a mission today, will you go?”
I replied, “I think so.”
I received my temple recommend and my endowment that same day. I also decided that I would accept the call to serve a mission.

The hymn “How Firm a Foundation,” which is attributed to Robert Keen, an eighteenth-century member of a London Baptist church, was included in the first LDS hymnal, produced in 1835. This hymn served an extraordinary purpose in our early Church history. After the horrific massacre of seventeen Saints at Haun’s Mill in 1838, the bereaved women and children survivors gathered at one of the homes. Among them was Amanda Smith, whose husband and one son had been killed, and whose other son had been wounded seriously. Gathering together “in our utter desolation,” Amanda wrote later, “what could we women do but pray?” When prayer was forbidden by the militia—under the threat of death—Amanda slipped into a cornfield where “I prayed aloud and most fervently.” In her own words,

“When I emerged from the corn a voice spoke to me. It was a voice as plain as I ever heard one. It was no silent, strong impression of the spirit, but a voice,repeating a verse of the saint’s hymn” [“How Firm a Foundation”]:

That soul who on Jesus hath leaned for repose, I cannot, I will not desert to its foes; That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, I’ll never, no never, no never forsake!

“From that moment I had no more fear. I felt that nothing could hurt me. . . .

“. . . The soul who on Jesus had leaned for succor had not been forsaken even in this terrible hour of massacre.” [Edward W. Tullidge, The Women of Mormondom (New York, 1877), pp. 129–32]

Matt is busy making posters for Mandy’s student council campaign when …
Hey, Matt, we just got an email for you from your cousin Max in Australia.
Oh, lemme see!
“… and I like soccer, but cricket is my favorite.”
Matt pictures the insect and is puzzled.
It’s a little like baseball, but also very different.
“… and I love meat pies.”
Not the kind of pie with ice cream on top, like you’re thinking.
And he loves something called “Lamingtons.”
It’s like we both speak English, but it’s not quite the same language.
Hey! Max and Mindy got baptized last month. And —cool!—his family’s going to be sealed in the temple next week!
That’s great!
We might have some different sports and foods and words, but we share the really important stuff.

“Yes, I watched that show! I loved it! There wasn’t anything concerning in it—just some bad language.”
I was recommending a show to a friend. Because I’d enjoyed the story so much, I hadn’t thought twice about the amount of profanity in each episode.
It wasn’t until later that I thought about what I said and gave myself a spiritual facepalm.
“Since when is profanity not a problem in the shows I watch?” I thought.
As a disciple of Jesus Christ, I have always tried to be mindful when it comes to the media I enjoy. However, profanity was becoming common in the shows and books I consumed. I had started to become numb to it.
This led me to ponder on what other less-than-wholesome content I was allowing into my life.
Was I letting things slide in the music I listened to? Was I batting an eye when explicit content appeared in my books or crude reels on my Instagram feed?
I think you know the answer.
President Russell M. Nelson has taught, “In coming days, it will not be possible to survive spiritually without the guiding, directing, comforting, and constant influence of the Holy Ghost.”
I could see how easily media was interrupting my connection with the Holy Ghost each day. I needed to “resensitize” myself to the Spirit. But when inappropriate media is a constant in this world, how do we do that?
For a more specific example of this realization, not too long ago, I was reading books that my friends (many of whom are members of the Church) were reading.
Often, I would be enjoying the stories, only to be unexpectedly jarred by profanity or sexual content.
For a while, I convinced myself this wasn’t a big deal. They were just books, right? Everyone from the millions of readers on social media to my friends seemed to be reading them with no complaints.
So how could I not agree?
I enjoyed these books and wanted to be part of conversations about them! Deep down, though, they were affecting me and my outlook on life and relationships. But I was afraid to stop reading them because I didn’t want to be seen as prudish or immature.
The Lord offers this warning: “The weak things of the world shall come forth and break down the mighty and strong ones, that man should not counsel his fellow man, neither trust in the arm of flesh” (Doctrine and Covenants 1:19).
This helped me realize I needed to be honest with myself.
I was justifying my behavior by following everyone else’s choices. I was fearing their judgment and ignoring the Spirit’s red flags instead of heeding His warnings.
A few years ago, President Nelson invited us to fast from social media for 10 days. While studying his challenge recently, I noticed that in addition to social media, he included “any other media that bring negative and impure thoughts to your mind.”
So I started taking note of what content I am sensitive to. I’ve tried to establish better habits with the media I consume. Media use isn’t inherently bad, but it’s always important to make sure we pay attention to the Spirit when consuming it.
If you are having trouble knowing where to make changes in your media habits, try asking yourself questions like these:
Are you feeling uplifted and inspired? Or numb and lonely?
Have you felt any discomfort that might be prompting you to step away from certain content?
Are you feeling a need to “fit in” with others by watching or reading certain media?
Are you being honest with yourself?
Elder Ulisses Soares of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles recently taught, “It takes a courageous and a willing heart to pause and pursue an honest and meek introspection to acknowledge the presence of weaknesses of the flesh in our life that may impede our ability to submit ourselves to God, and ultimately decide to adopt His way rather than our own.”
And he’s right. It can be hard to acknowledge our weaknesses and make changes that align with God instead of the world. I still have a lot of work to do when it comes to my media choices (and all my choices), but I’m striving to do better each day.
We have the beautiful promise of having the Spirit as our constant companion as we renew our covenants through the sacrament each week and through the gift of repentance. As we do this—and are truly honest with ourselves—we can “resensitize” our hearts to His guiding influence.
I know that we can always try again when we don’t always make choices that align with the Lord’s commandments. But by focusing on Jesus Christ, we can increase the Spirit’s influence in our lives and limit the world’s.

At first, it was a struggle to gain the good habit of reading every day. With home-study seminary, students have to do a lot of study on their own in workbooks. Sister Hirtle says, “With some I started off with a small goal—just one verse a day, one verse before your head hits the pillow. Read it and ask yourself what it means. Do it for 14 days, and it starts to become a habit.” Then as her students gained the habit of reading each day, they moved up to putting stickers on a reading chart with the reward of an ice cream cake for the class at the end of the year. This turned out to be so much fun it is now a class tradition.