Gospel Story Finder

My family and I were watching President Nelson on TV when he said something that caught my attention. He said that there was going to be a worldwide fast!
I wanted to fast, but I had never done it before. Recently the COVID-19 pandemic had started, and we were stuck at home. I knew that I had to do my part. My mom couldn’t fast because she had a baby a few months ago. My little sister and brothers were too young to fast. It would be just me and my dad.
I decided I was only going to skip breakfast because this was my very first time fasting, and I didn’t know how long I would last. On Saturday night I had a good dinner, and then my family said a prayer for my dad and me to start our fast.
The next day we had home church, which is what we had been doing since the pandemic started. I was trying to distract myself from the fact that my sister was eating and that I was really hungry. After church, I played hymns on the piano. Later I looked at the clock, and it was almost lunchtime! I had no idea how fast time had gone. I had completely forgotten that I was fasting!
I decided to say a prayer to break my fast. During the prayer, I felt the Spirit more strongly than I ever had before. I felt that everything was going to be OK. It was a great experience.
Ever since that first fast, I have done every fast that the prophet has asked us to do, and I have felt the Spirit strongly every time.

A few years ago I accompanied a group of Explorers from our stake on an excursion. We sat around talking about the subjects that interest young men, and soon the subject of girls came up. I asked, “What about ________? She seems to be a pretty sharp girl. She’s attractive, has a neat figure, and seems to have a good personality.” There was some shoulder-shrugging, and then one of them said, “Well, she’s … uh … well … uh … you know.” Another added, “She’s kinda straight.”
I asked these Aaronic Priesthood brethren just how straight they thought a Latter-day Saint girl should be to be popular. We also considered how straight they would want their sisters to be. What these young men finally said to me was, “We don’t expect a girl to lower her standards, but she should have a sense of humor, be fun, and be a good sport.” Maybe it can best be summed up with this description of a Venturer by his friends: “He’s cool, but straight.”

During the recent 2014 winter Olympics in Sochi, Russia, Russian cross country skier, Anton Gafarov, broke a ski and crashed in a semifinal race. Wanting to finish the race in front of his home crowd, he got up and started again, but his ski was so severely damaged that he again fell in the snow. Just then Canadian coach Justin Wadsworth ran onto the course with an extra ski in his hand and fastened it to Gafarov's boot.[26]

When I was a freshman in high school, the weightlifting coach asked me to join weightlifting.
“Mmm … no thanks,” I said. “Not my thing.”
But he kept at it. For weeks.
Finally, I tried it out. He was right: I really liked weightlifting. It was definitely weird at first; my body had never done anything like it before. But I grew to love the feeling of working out. I also loved my teammates and the competitions. And I started doing really well!
Now weightlifting is a huge part of my life. I practice every day for at least two or three hours, doing back squats, clean and jerks, and snatches. (And if you don’t know what any of those things are, don’t worry—neither did I!)
Like many things, weightlifting takes time and patience, and sometimes that can be difficult. Luckily, my family is always right there encouraging me, even when I complain about how sore I am (which is often). My dad always has ice packs and pep talks ready for me when I get home from practice. And my mom always sacrifices so I can go to competitions.
A few years ago, I went to one of those competitions in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA. I was excited to compete against weightlifters from all over the country, but I was a little worried about being so far away from my family. To make it easier, my mom promised to text me scriptures and thoughtful messages every day.
The night before the competition, some kids threw a party. I thought it would be cool to go, so my roommate and I went to check it out. But right away I knew it wasn’t my kind of party. There were teenagers drinking, smoking, saying bad words, and dancing inappropriately. I knew I shouldn’t be there, but I was worried what my roommate might think. Or what the other competitors might think.
But then something popped into my head:
“Stand ye in holy places.”
It was from my favorite scripture, and one my mom had sent me that morning: Doctrine and Covenants 87:8: “Wherefore, stand ye in holy places, and be not moved, until the day of the Lord come; for behold, it cometh quickly, saith the Lord. Amen.”
I don’t know why my mom sent me that scripture that day, but it’s one I’ve loved my entire life. I’ve had it memorized since I was eight, and again and again it has reminded me to have courage, be obedient, and stand for what I believe in.
“Stand ye in holy places.”
“I’m gonna go,” I said to my roommate. I explained about the scripture my mom had sent me that morning. “This is not a place I should be standing.”
My roommate told me she didn’t want to be there, either. She was uncomfortable too but hadn’t wanted to leave by herself and be seen as a loser. She thanked me for saying something, and we left.
The next morning, we found out that soon after we left, the kids who were at the party were caught and eliminated from the competition for drinking and doing drugs.
If I hadn’t been prompted to remember my mom’s verse, I might’ve been disqualified from the competition too. I ended up winning first place, so I’m really grateful I got to compete. (I think I thank my mom every single day for texting me.)
Winning a weightlifting competition is a pretty obvious and immediate blessing from keeping the commandments. But Doctrine and Covenants 87:8 doesn’t say, “Stand ye in holy places so you can win weightlifting competitions.” And John 14:15 doesn’t say, “If you want immediate blessings, keep my commandments.” It says, “If ye love me, keep my commandments.” The Lord blesses us because He loves us. And we try to be holy and obedient because we trust and love the Lord.

Years ago, when my father was in the evening of his days on this earth, I encountered him reading his patriarchal blessing. He marveled that the old patriarch, John Smith, in the Sugarhouse Ward eighty years before, could have told him in outline what had come to pass in his life. “Everything has been fulfilled in my blessing,” he said, “except one thing.”

“What is that?” I asked.

He replied, “My blessing said that if I sought the will of the Lord I should preside over a stake in Zion.”

I said, “Did the patriarch make a mistake, Dad?”

“No,” he said abruptly. “The General Authorities called me to serve, but I’d just returned from a three-year mission to England. I was an older man. I had a large family that had worked to keep me there. My business partner, O. S. Stapley, had carried the burdens of our business, so I told the Authorities to let me get on my feet financially, and then I would be glad to serve, but I was never called again.”

There was no further comment, but I sensed without any moralizing on my father’s part that he wanted me to hear this story and draw my own conclusions.

Years ago, I learned something of the price paid for trust and worthy recognition. During a summer break, I found a job on an oyster boat in Long Island Sound. Four of us lived together in an area not much larger than the cab of a big semitrailer tractor. At first, I was considered a spy for the owner, then a kid who didn’t have courage to live like a man. They really gave me a bad time. Finally, when they understood I would not abandon my principles, we became friends. Then privately, one by one, they asked for help.

You know what is right and wrong. Be the leader in doing right. At first, you may not be understood. You may not have the friends you want right away, but in time, they will respect you, then admire you. Many will come privately to receive strength from your spiritual flame. You can do it. I know you can do it.

A boy I knew had been sent, at great sacrifice by his parents, to a university to acquire an education. He went with little aspiration or desire to succeed, seeking instead to have a “good time.” Shortly after he arrived, he became involved in a case of petty theft, “just for the excitement,” he said later. He was caught and put on probation. But when his search for good times exhausted the limited resources provided by his parents, in desperation he tried to steal a large sum of money—and was caught again. This time he went to the state prison.
His bishop, knowing that I would be traveling in the vicinity of the prison, asked if I would visit the young man. I was a stake president at the time, so I took a member of the stake high council with me. The large gate swung shut behind us, a guard searched us carefully, and then we were ushered into a small concrete building where those from the outside were allowed to spend time visiting with inmates.
I had in my mind a picture of a hardened criminal—mean, surly, dangerous, someone to be feared. Then the door opened, and one of the most handsome young men I had ever seen stepped into the room—neat, clean-shaven, hair nicely combed. He smiled at me in recognition and offered his hand in greeting. “President, what are you doing here? You have probably never seen me, but I heard you speak once at a stake conference,” he explained, then asked earnestly, “How is my family?”
After I reassured him about his parents, we talked about him: how soon he would be released and how he was being treated. He seemed in good spirits and cheerful despite the bleak surroundings. As we visited, I asked him if he had really done all the things he was accused of. His reply was prompt and direct: “Yes, and more. I deserve all of this.” The motion of his hand took in the confining room and its surroundings. “I have lost nearly everything—my self-respect, my friends, the confidence of my family—almost everything.” His chin quivered and his face became anguished. He broke down crying. Sobs shook his body, and I tried to comfort him.
When he regained his composure, we continued our visit. It proved to be a marvelous moment to teach him; he was humble and eager to learn. We talked about faith, repentance, and the divine mission of our Savior, Jesus Christ. I reminded the young man that Christ gave His own sweet life in holy sacrifice as payment for the sins of those who repent and obey. The Spirit touched each of us during those moments together. My young friend was contrite, filled with hope and a greater understanding of God’s love.
On the morning of his release from prison, a loving father and mother embraced their son and welcomed him to a new life. They visited at our home. The son was repentant and eager to start anew. He expressed his great love for the Savior and his gratitude for the opportunity to progress through blessings offered in the Church. I assured him of my respect, my confidence, and my love for him.
Over a period of several years, I received occasional telephone calls from him advising me of his progress. He was doing well. He had worked through the repentance process with his bishop and the Lord. There were still difficulties and obstacles to overcome, but his progress was steady. The call that touched me most was the one in which he told me that he would be taking a young woman to the house of the Lord to be married. He had come full circle, from wickedness and despair to righteousness and joy. The Spirit of the Lord had led him to the Living Waters, and he had drunk deeply.

The summer before my mission ended, I was serving with a missionary named Elder Causse. He was from a branch in Bourdeaux, France, a place I had once considered “out there in the mission field.”
One morning my mission president called me into his office and told me my father would be calling. When the phone rang, the president excused himself and left me alone. I was apprehensive as I picked up the phone.
My father greeted me, then told me his cancer had relapsed. He would again go through chemotherapy. I then spoke to my mother, who told me our ward was going to fast again. I said I would join in the fast as well. After I hung the phone up, I wiped away a few tears and walked out of the office.
On the way back to our assigned area, I explained the situation to Elder Causse. He promised to fast with me, and his promise gave me comfort. But he did not stop there. He wrote to his family in France and told them what had happened. They, too, said that they would fast for my father and that they would ask the members of the Bourdeaux Branch to join the fast as well. I was astounded that they would fast for the health of a man they did not know.
At that moment, the Spirit spoke softly to me, and suddenly I understood what it means to be “fellow-citizens with the saints, and of the household of God” (Eph. 2:19). We are of one faith, united in the gospel with bonds stronger than illness or death. We are truly brothers and sisters. None of us is a stranger, no matter what land we happen to worship in.

Ludovic picked up some folding chairs and carried them across the street. It was Sunday, and church would be starting soon. The house where they had church in Togo didn’t have enough seats. So Ludovic always brought chairs from his grandfather’s house.
“Why would you leave a nice church to go to a small shack?” someone called after him. “Your church doesn’t even have benches!” someone else said, laughing.
Ludovic pretended not to hear. I just have to keep doing what’s right, he thought.
Ludovic first learned about the Church when he was 10. Now he was 12. He and his family had been baptized recently. He held the priesthood and helped pass the sacrament. He even saved some of his lunch money to buy bread for the sacrament each week. Ludovic was happy to serve Heavenly Father.
When it was time for church to start, the small room was full. Some people sat in the chairs Ludovic had brought. Other people stood.
The meeting started with a song. “Israel, Israel, God is calling,” Ludovic sang. He loved to sing at church.
After church, Ludovic hummed as he put the chairs away. He hummed as he walked home. Then he had an idea! He got out his toy piano keyboard. Maybe he could figure out how to play “Israel, Israel, God Is Calling”!
Ludovic hummed the notes and played different keys until he got it right. Soon he taught himself to play the whole song.
Then he remembered that his family had some recordings of Church hymns. He listened to them and learned to play other songs too. Ludovic practiced and practiced.
“Why don’t you play in church while we sing?” Ludovic’s dad asked one day.
Ludovic’s stomach did a flop. “I’m too shy,” he said. “What if I mess up?”
“Then you will keep going,” Dad said. “You are a better pianist than you think.”
The next Sunday, Ludovic didn’t carry just chairs. He carried his toy keyboard to church too. When it was time for the opening song, he nervously put his fingers on the keys. Then he started to play. Everyone sang along. And it sounded so good!
Ludovic played in church each Sunday after that. Sometimes he messed up. But he didn’t quit. When the song was too hard to play, they sang without the piano, and Ludovic led the music.
Ludovic smiled. It didn’t matter to him that they had church at someone’s house. It didn’t even matter that people made fun of him. What mattered was that Ludovic was using his talents to serve God.
A missionary taught Ludovic to read music so he could play the piano better.
Ludovic is grown up now. He and his wife, Benedict, both love music.
Ludovic owns a real piano at home and plays the organ at church.

When my baby sisters were born, I was worried that they wouldn’t be OK, because they were born early and were so tiny. When we went to each hospital, I put some friendly pictures in their beds to help them feel a little better.
I prayed for them every day. I asked Heavenly Father to bless them that they would be OK. I told Him that I was scared for them. After I prayed, I felt good. I knew that Heavenly Father would answer my prayers.
Next week is my little sisters’ first birthday. They are both doing well now. I am thankful that Heavenly Father answered my prayers.

While working for Stowell, Joseph stayed with the family of Isaac Hale and became acquainted with a daughter, Emma. She and Joseph were married on January 18, 1827, and moved to the Smith family farm near Palmyra. That fall, at the end of the four years, the Prophet received the ancient plates from Moroni at the Hill Cumorah. At the same time he was given the power to translate, aided by two transparent stones called Urim and Thummim that had been deposited in the stone box with the plates. Joseph Smith said the stones were set in the rim of a bow fastened to a breastplate. “Through the medium of the Urim and Thummim,” he said, “I translated the record by the gift and power of God.” (History of the Church 4:537, Wentworth Letter, IM Jun 1978.)

No sooner did Joseph obtain the sacred records than some people plotted to steal them from him. The Prophet changed their hiding place several times—trying a hollow birch log, a barrel of beans, a space under the hearthstone—and finally he and Emma decided to move to Harmony, Pennsylvania, where Emma’s father offered them refuge. Joseph and Emma were without the means to make the 240-km trip, so Martin Harris, a prosperous farmer who believed Joseph’s account of the origin of the plates, contributed fifty dollars to help them.

The year after I turned 12, several things changed in my life. I was ordained a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood. I was old enough to join the Boy Scout troop in our ward. And I moved up from elementary school to junior high school.
Just beginning the seventh grade brought many new experiences. I rode a bus to school every day. I had seven teachers instead of one. I put my backpack, lunch sack, and jacket in a locker each morning—no more coat hooks or cubbyholes. And I had different books and papers for every class.
I was especially proud of the three-ring binder that had reams of blue-ruled notepaper and folders for each subject. By the time the first few weeks of school had gone by, each folder was thick with homework assignments, handouts, and other school papers.
Going to school with eighth-and ninth-grade students was one of the biggest changes of all. I often felt small and unnoticed as I hurried down the halls, dodging classmates and strangers who seemed much more confident than I ever felt.
In several of my classes, I sat with students who were two and even three years older than I was. My first-year Spanish class had students from all three grade levels: seventh, eighth, and ninth. One boy, a ninth-grader named Jared, was tall, liked to talk, and frequently said things that made the students and even our teacher, Mr. Bishop, laugh.
I wanted to do that, too, but there were so many new things all around me that I often felt shy and usually stayed quiet. I was not small, but many of my fellow seventh graders were bigger than I was, and all my friends from elementary had lunch at a different hour.
One thing that made it difficult for me to adjust and make new friends was that during this first year I endured my share of rough pranks that junior high school students often play. I remember one in particular.
I was walking by the school’s main office between classes, in an area where dozens of students were hurrying past in both directions. I had my usual armload of books, including my three-ring binder, nestled against my hip.
Suddenly another student stepped up behind me, reached out a hand, and gave the books a hard flip. They flew out of my grasp and slid across the floor ahead of me. When the binder landed, it snapped open and folders and papers went spinning everywhere.
It was hard not to cry as I got down on my hands and knees and tried to scoop everything up as quickly as I could. I felt certain everyone was watching me, which only made me feel worse. Then a ninth-grade girl knelt down beside me and asked if I was okay. She smiled, squeezed my arm, and started to help me gather my books and papers.
Following her example, a tall boy came over and asked me if I’d seen who had knocked my books out of my arms. It was Jared from first-year Spanish, and he too knelt down to help.
I never learned the ninth-grade girl’s name, but I’ve never forgotten her kindness. Her actions reminded me of the Book of Mormon story of King Benjamin, who taught his people to always treat each other with love. And like Ammon, the great Book of Mormon missionary, this unknown friend of mine set an example by her actions that others followed.

Several years ago our family was serving a mission in England. Ed was the president of the England London South Mission. Our three youngest children accompanied us. After our first year in England, our son Cory returned to Provo to finish his senior year in high school. Cory's life was taken in a car accident shortly after he returned home. We were given permission to return to Provo for Cory's funeral, then we returned immediately to England and our mission responsibilities.

It was a difficult time. I missed everyone in our family. A few weeks after our return to England we received a letter from our daughter Kelly. She had included pictures of her children. It was so good to see their faces. I paused at that moment and offered a silent plea, "Heavenly Father, I wish you could send me a picture of Cory." In the next few days a letter arrived at the mission home from a young man from our ward. He had befriended Cory during Cory's year in England. He explained that he had felt a strong impression that he needed to write and tell us what a good influence Cory had been to him. He told of his recent desire to serve a mission because of Cory's example. It was a tender letter and touched my heart. I thanked Heavenly Father for sending me such a beautiful picture of Cory.

Nate—One of the phrases in that scripture from Helaman 5 that has always stood out to me is “shafts in the whirlwind.” It reminds me of a really vivid storm experience from my childhood. My family was at the time living in the Midwest region of the United States, just outside of St. Louis, Missouri. We had just moved to the area into a brand new suburban subdivision where many homes were still under construction. Spread throughout the area were tall towers with large sirens attached - tornado sirens as it turned out, and soon we learned that they weren’t just for show. One evening the clouds got really dark and low, the air all around turned a strange color, almost a scary dark green, and those tornado sirens started blaring. I remember my mom and dad gathering me and my brother and sister down into the unfinished basement of our house, far from any window, right up against the cool cement of the foundation. I remember the wind and rain howling against the house, then a terrible loud sound, like a train running by right outside. Eventually the storm quieted down and we all went to bed. The next morning, we walked out to find construction debris scattered around the neighborhood. I remember standing next to the house under construction next door and being especially amazed by the sight of 2x4s and other timbers that the tornado had picked up and thrown through the sheet rocked but unfinished walls. It was like the walls were a pincushion—they were shafts in the whirlwind.

After school I went to get my rain boots off the porch and put them on so I could play in the puddles. But I felt a warning from the Holy Ghost not to put them on because there was a spider in one of them. I went inside and told my grandma to get the spider out. She swished her fingers around inside the tops of the boots and told me to put them on—there wasn’t any spider. But I knew there was! I told her to turn my boots upside down and bang them on the cement. She did, and a black widow spider about the size of a nickel came out. Grandma showed me the bright-red hourglass shape on it and then smashed it. If I had put my foot inside, the spider might have bitten me. I’m thankful that the Holy Ghost warned me.

When I was a freshman at BYU, I had very little money and it was hard to think of a present for my bed-ridden grandmother. She had always been so good to us grandchildren.
I decided my gift would be a promise. I would write her a letter every week during the coming year. I kept my promise and, although she was unable to answer all my letters, she wrote when she could and our relationship grew even stronger.
She told me often how she enjoyed her Christmas present. It also was a great joy to give.
—Carol LowryMagrath, Alberta, Canada

Now I would like to tell you of a little experience I had in the mission field that illustrates what I think the Lord meant when he indicated that not only would the Prophet bring forth His word, but he would bring men to a conviction of His word that had already gone forth among them.

When I was in Holland, I was invited to talk to a Bible class of businessmen. We met in the home of a prominent furniture dealer. There were about twenty men; each had his Bible. The only woman there was the daughter of the man of the house. They gave me an hour and a half to discuss universal salvation, which includes our work for the dead, preaching in the spirit world, and baptism of the living for the dead. I just gave them chapter and verse and let them read the passages in their own Bibles. Then when I was through, I closed my Bible and waited for comments.

The first comment came from the daughter of the man of the house. She said: “Father, I just can’t understand it. I have never attended one of these Bible classes in my life that you haven’t had the last word to say on everything. And tonight you haven’t said a word.”

The man shook his head and said: “My daughter, there isn’t anything to say. This man has been teaching us things we have never heard of, and he has been teaching them to us out of our own Bibles.”

I could tell you many more stories like that!

Finally, the culmination of forty years of effort and sacrifice climaxed when President Woodruff entered the temple the morning of 6 April 1893. “The Temple Block gates opened at 8:30, and the street was packed long before that hour,” one priesthood leader noted. Two hours were required “to admit, one by one, the 2200 people” into the large upper assembly hall of the temple.

Thomas Griggs, a member of the Tabernacle Choir, arrived at the south gate at 8:20, but the line was so long that “it was 9:55 a.m. when I was 10 feet [3 meters] from the [gate],” he wrote. “Wind, dust and a little rain had come and it was very uncomfortable, to be ended by the door keeper announcing … ‘No more can be admitted.’ … Being well known as a member of the choir [I was] … soon at the south west entrance and hurriedly passed through.”

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

We recently received a letter from an incarcerated person named Shawn, who had just received a requested Book of Mormon and Come, Follow Me manual. “I don’t know if I can possibly express to you my gratitude for sending it to me,” he wrote. “When I got the Book of Mormon, it was like a part of me was restored.” Shawn said that these materials changed, and even saved, his life. “The Spirit stirs my heart again. Heavenly Father hears my prayers. My faith has been strengthened beyond measure. I have a hope of life eternal. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”