Gospel Story Finder

Eve loved Christmastime. Her class at school had spent the morning coloring cards and listening to fun music.
“Now it’s reading time,” Mrs. Grunig said. “And if you finish all your reading today and tomorrow, you won’t have any homework during the holiday break.”
All the kids in Eve’s class cheered. But Eve didn’t feel much like cheering. She shivered a little as she pulled out her book to read. She felt very cold, and her throat hurt. Her eyes felt hot as she stared at the words on the page. By the end of school, Eve’s stomach felt sick too.
Finally it was time to walk home with her brother and sister, Tim and Wilma. Usually they had fun on the way home. They would play tag or make a snowman. But today all Eve wanted to do was get home and lie down.
When Eve got home, Mama felt her forehead.
“You have a fever,” she said. “You need to drink plenty of water and get lots of rest.”
Eve climbed into bed and fell asleep right away. The next morning, everyone else in her family was busy getting ready for the day. But Mama said Eve was too sick to go to school.
Then Eve remembered something that made her sad. Today was the school Christmas party! They were supposed to finish their art projects and sing songs and have treats. She just had to go!
But Mama wouldn’t change her mind.
“I’m sorry you’ll miss the party, sweetie,” she said. “But your health is more important.”
Eve started to cry. Mama tried to help her feel better with yummy soup. But all Eve could think about was all of the fun her friends were having without her.
In the afternoon, Tim and Wilma got home from school. Their cheeks were red from playing in the snow.
“The school party was lots of fun,” Wilma said. “We made red paper birds to hang up at home.”
Tim pulled something out of his pocket.
“And look—your teacher sent us home with a special present for you. Now you can make a red paper bird too!”
Eve smiled. “Can you show me how?”
Tim and Wilma showed Eve how to cut on the dotted line and fold it just right. They helped her tie the string in a loop.
“Mama, look what I made!” Eve said, showing off her new favorite Christmas ornament.
Eve thought of how nice Mrs. Grunig was to remember her when she was sick, and how Tim and Wilma had helped her too. Now whenever Eve looked at her red paper bird, she would feel lots of love.

We stopped at a pizza parlor on the way home from the priesthood session of general conference when I was fifteen years old, and as a result I learned a lesson about tithing that I will never forget.
My father, my two brothers, and I were hungry. As we waited for our order, I saw one of my friends working cleaning off the tables. I asked him how he got the job, and he told me they still needed extra help. A few minutes later he came back and told me that the manager would interview me immediately. Perhaps it was because I was wearing a nice shirt and a tie, but the employer seemed impressed. The interview went well. I expressed my wish not to work on Sundays, and he said there would be no problem—plenty of people would work for me. I was hired to begin work as soon as I could.
During the next two years, I gradually worked my way up to the position of pizza cook. Then one evening as I began my shift, I noticed one of my scheduled days had been taken off the calendar. My boss told me that if I wanted to work the regular number of hours, Sunday was open. I worked one Sunday and felt terrible about it, so I declined to work on the Sabbath from then on. My relations with my employer started to deteriorate, and I began to look for another job.
It was interesting that although I was fairly adamant about keeping the Sabbath day holy, I was lax in obeying another commandment—the law of tithing. I didn’t pay tithing at all, unless my parents prompted me. Then I’d say, “Yes, yes,” and put something in the envelope the next week. I just couldn’t understand the sense in giving away one-tenth of my hard-earned money.
I kept searching for a job but with no results. I prayed to my Father in Heaven sincerely, confident that he would help me find employment. One evening while praying, a thought came to me. Why should the Lord help me find another job if I wasn’t paying tithing on the income from my current job?
I studied a couple of scriptures:
“And prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.” (Mal. 3:10.)
I decided to obey the commandment. I went to the bank and secured a large sum of money from my savings account to pay the tithing I had missed. I took it over to the bishop’s house that very evening.
In my pursuit of better employment, I had applied for work in a shop that installed car mufflers. This was in January, and they said they wouldn’t need any additional help until the following December. Two days after I paid my tithing, someone from the shop telephoned with an offer for me to start work the next day. By the time I left on my mission, I was earning three times as much money as I had earned cooking pizza, plus a good commission. I was able to finance half of the expense of my mission by myself. Furthermore, after I had been in the mission field about a year, my employer from the muffler shop called my parents and asked if he could help pay the rest of my mission expenses.
Some might say that all these things happened coincidentally. I would be inclined to say that I was blessed because I finally started living a gospel principle. Tithing opens a door to blessings from the Lord.

At some time in life almost everyone yearns to travel to a faraway country and meet people of another culture, another language, and another way of life.
For the following Latter-day Saint youths this dream became a reality when they spent several months studying in Europe. Here is a report on what this experience meant to them:
Lee Vanhille, 23, from Palo Alto, California: “The impression I had of Spain before I left home was the standard one—flamenco dancers and castanets—but that is a very small part of Spain. There are wide, open flatlands, mountains, beaches, castles, cathedrals—everything, including bagpipes in the north.
“I enjoyed the young people in Spain better than those anywhere else we traveled. I found them very open and willing to talk. They were nice, clean-cut kids.
“I really enjoyed the experience of studying Spanish literature and then seeing what I was reading about. It’s like seeing poetry come to life.”
Jana Christensen, 19, from Alpine, Utah: “I was in southern Spain and it was very hot, but the beaches were beautiful. And, oh, the Mediterranean! Spain is such a beautiful country!
“The people were the most loving I’ve ever met in my whole life. For instance, I was waiting for the bus one night, in a pouring rain, and I didn’t have a coat on. It was miserable! An older lady was standing at the bus stop, and we began conversing in Spanish. When the bus came, we talked all the way to my stop. To get up and leave her was the hardest thing to do. It was just as if I had known her forever. I said, ‘Adiós. Buena suerta.’ (Goodbye. Good luck.) She reached up, hugged me, and kissed me on both cheeks. After I got off the bus and glanced back, she was still waving good-bye.
“One thing that amazed me about Spanish girls was that whenever they’d be in the mood to do something exciting, they’d go upstairs in the dorms and turn on the record player full blast—that great Spanish music—and they’d get up and dance. They would give it everything they had, really dancing up a storm. They’d do flamenco; they’d clap; they’d sing. Pretty soon I’d go join them, and then we’d all be singing. It was so much fun. I left a lot of copies of the Libro de Mormon around for them when I left.
“The Saints there are great! It was really strengthening to hear the Spanish people bear their testimonies at their branch.
“For me this was a trip of firsts. It was my first time on an airplane, first time on a train, first time in a taxi, first time out of the country, first time in a subway—everything was a first. I appreciated learning more about other people. I am a lot more accepting and tolerant of others than I was. I feel more love for others.”
Tamera Nielsen, 20, from Salt Lake City: “Austria is one of the most beautiful countries in all the world. It fills your heart to go there. The youth of the Church there are very dedicated to the Lord—some of the most dedicated people I’ve ever met. The Austrian people have such enthusiasm for the gospel!
“The country is very green, and the Austrian Alps are really inspiring. The people often take what they call a spaziergang, a kind of nature-appreciation walk.
“Austrian young people like to go to movies. A date is really different in Austria; the young couple meet someplace downtown instead of the boy calling for the girl at her home. I’ve learned a lot about people and about tolerance, and I’ve learned that the Church is truly worldwide.”
Stephen Driggs, 22, from Phoenix, Arizona: “I went on a mission to Germany, so I had a good language background.
“I stayed in Salzburg, where we have an active branch. For an Austrian branch, it has a lot of young people. It’s a very young and growing branch, very enthusiastic.
“The country is terrific! Austria has great culture—things like operas, concerts, and an overwhelming sense of history. It’s a fantastic place to study history because of the things you can see, the buildings you can visit, and the monuments—people and places that were influential in making history.
“While there, I stayed in a private home. Family life is more formal than in the United States. The relationship between parent and child is quite formal. Dinner is always at a particular time, and they usually have cake and coffee in the afternoon. The family are always together for dinner. They served me a lot of coffee substitutes.”
Mark Stoddard, 22, from Auburn, California: “My main intent in traveling was to help myself improve in the French language. I went to Grenoble.
“My father’s in the U.S. Air Force, so I’ve lived in Germany for three years, in England for three years, and a little while in Taiwan and Australia, but I found Grenoble to be an interesting city, bigger than I thought it would be. I thought it would be a small village but it’s not. There are mountains completely encircling it, and it’s situated right in the middle of the whole valley. There are apartments after apartments—thousands of apartments.
“I found that the French people behaved much differently toward me than they had when I visited there before. Now I was learning the language. When you won’t try to speak their language, they won’t spend much time with you. If you make an attempt, they are extremely hospitable. I went into a patisserie one day—that’s a place where they sell beautiful, delicious pastries. They bent over backwards trying to help me with the language, just because I was trying.
“In my travels I have found that when you find other members of the Church, it doesn’t matter whether you are French, Italian, German, Australian, or whatever, there is no difference except that we speak different languages. I kept thinking of Ephesians, where it says that the reason we have the Church is to bring us to a unity of the faith. The French people are great. I really grew to appreciate them.”
Judy Harrison, 21, from Ogden, Utah: “I went to Grenoble because I’m a French major and I wanted to learn the language. My family and I lived in Japan from 1960 to 1962.
“Lots of people have said that the French really don’t have a distinct culture. As I traveled through Europe, I would see the Austrians with their dirndls, the Germans with their dirndls and lodens, and the Spaniards with their ponchos—they all seemed to have a definite symbol for their country. It took me quite a while to find the symbol of the French. There just aren’t any people like the French. They are small, dark, slender, excitable—a truly unusual people. Anyway, I finally decided it was the French personality that was France’s symbol.
“Meeting the people and showing them friendship brings them alive. I found that out well when one lady in Marseilles took time to help me. I was buying santons (dolls used in nativity scenes), and she took time to set out all of her dolls, taking them from the window, lining them up, and explaining the history behind each one of them. I was really impressed.
“I attended the comife de patronage (school for foreign students). The teacher was a dynamic French woman, Madame Bonneville. I loved to watch her talk; she used her hands so expressively.
“Before I went to France, I wasn’t up on current affairs. I went to school and to church and enjoyed life the way it was, and I didn’t know what was happening in other countries. But I soon found out that in France you can’t do that. You’ve got to face problems and find out what’s happening and see what you can do. I’ve suddenly been confronted with many problems that I have always ignored before. It’s changed my whole outlook on life.
“I’ve learned something else. Americans tend to be a little overconfident and to go around speaking English all the time, expecting others to understand them. But most Europeans speak two or three languages. How many of us can do that?”

Michelle has always tried to be a good influence in her family. The Ramnauths used to live in Guyana, a small country on the mainland of South America directly below Trinidad. In Guyana, their father David made his living driving a truck, but the family was struggling financially. He found he could make more money if he went to work in the interior jungles.
“I know he was just trying to provide for us,” Michelle says, “but we grew apart because the most we would see him was like two days in a month.” Eventually her mother, Pamela, got discouraged. “She eased up on going to church, and that really discouraged me,” Michelle says. “For a few Sundays, since I didn’t have my parents’ support, I didn’t go to church.”
Then rather than giving up, Michelle went into action. “I would press [iron] my clothes each Saturday and then get up early on Sunday and go to church by myself. I did that for a few months. It was kind of hard each Sunday because people would ask, ‘Where are your mom and dad?’ I felt a part of me was missing when I went to church by myself.”
So she turned to heaven for help. “I prayed and then cried myself to sleep at night, but I always asked Heavenly Father to help us find a way. I fasted a lot of Sundays by myself, and one or two times my mother fasted with me.”
Eventually, help did come. First, Michelle persuaded her mother to come to church again. Then a missionary couple, Elder and Sister Dunn, took an interest in her family. “They said they were going to fast for us and asked if I would join them,” Brother Ramnauth recalls. “I told them that ever since I became a member of the Church, I had never fasted. But I said I would.”
Michelle and her mother joined in that fast, too. The result was positive. “I found the strength to say that the work situation I was in wasn’t good for my family and to realize that not going to church on Sunday was also bad,” Brother Ramnauth says. “So I started going back to church, and we started having family home evening.” He also was able to find a contract closer to home that allowed him to transport materials with the same truck.
“Our family became very active in the Church again,” Michelle says. “I would say it was an answer to prayer and that fasting helped, too.” It was only a few months later that the family moved to Trinidad, and in their new country they are still sticking to their standards. Michelle, Melissa, and their mother and father all have callings. Brother Ramnauth is serving in the branch presidency. “I see him sitting in front of the congregation, and I say, ‘Hey, that’s my dad,’ and I’m so proud of him,” Michelle says.

It was the hardest algebra homework I’d ever faced. I struggled most of the afternoon with variables buzzing in my head. When my mom asked me to babysit for a couple wanting to attend the temple that night, I agreed reluctantly. I reasoned with myself that I wouldn’t understand this homework anyway, so why not watch five kids for a few hours? Knowing the children had an early bedtime, I brought my math book with me.

As my mom drove me to the house, she told me I shouldn’t take their money that night. Startled, I asked her why.

She answered, “They’re going to the temple. It wouldn’t be right if they had to pay to go and perform sacred ordinances there.”

I thought it over and agreed. Seeing my hesitation, my mom added, “I know you’re frustrated with your homework and everything, but you’ll have Heavenly Father’s help if you do this service.” I was thankful for Mom’s encouraging words, but I was still doubtful.

That evening went unusually well. The children didn’t quarrel, and they helped me clean the playroom. I even got them to bed fairly early. Then I started doing my math homework. After taking several deep breaths, I tackled a few problems and found that I could solve them. Right before I finished the assignment, the couple got home.

When the wife handed me some money, I took my mother’s advice and told her to keep it. “You guys deserve to go to the temple for free,” I said. She thanked me and told me that it was hard to find babysitters on school nights.

I finished the rest of my algebra homework easily when I arrived home. But more than that, I felt truly content. The reality of miracles struck me that day. My mom’s words had come true. I did have the Lord’s help when I served. I know now that when we do what is right and do it with love, miracles can happen.

When my wife was a young girl, her grandpa took the grandchildren with him to the farm to put powder on the potatoes to kill the bugs. It was fun doing it together. What’s more, they got to ride the old workhorse after they were finished.
It was fun to help get the cows into the barn so they could be milked. Although the children didn’t do much milking themselves, they watched and heard the milk splatter into the bucket. Sometimes a well-aimed squirt would fill the open mouth of a waiting cat. The children laughed even more when Grandpa squirted the warm milk toward their open mouths, and the giggles increased when he missed and splashed their faces.
The children helped harvest the corn and, when canning started, they helped the adults cut off kernels. Everyone had a feeling of accomplishment and they felt secure just knowing that they were adding to their year’s supply of food.
After the children had helped with the picking and pickling of cucumbers, they received a reward of some large ripe ones to cut open, hollow out, and sail as boats down the ditches.

Alan thought about his own mission and the lessons he’d learned.
One lesson wasn’t learned until he’d been out for a year. His companion at that time was Elder Taylor, who at that time had been out only three months. They were working in a rural area south of Rochester, New York, and had nobody to teach. The zone leader had decided to move them to a new area in another town in a month.
One night after a week of broken appointments, people not at home, doors slammed in their faces, Elder Taylor asked, “I wonder why things are going so badly.”
“Maybe it’s because there’s a family still in this area who’s so golden that the adversary is trying to discourage us from finding them before we’re pulled out of this area.”
The spiritual confirmation had been so strong that for several minutes neither of them spoke.
“That’s it,” Alan said after a few minutes.
“Well, all we’ve got to do is find them,” Elder Taylor said.
After that the burden they carried was that they felt there was a family waiting for them but they couldn’t find anybody. Alan became more tense as the days passed.
One morning Elder Taylor suggested, “Why don’t we inspiration contact?”
“What’s that?” Alan had asked wearily, annoyed at his companion’s usually naive suggestions.
“We just drive around until we feel the promptings of the Spirit, and then we stop and visit the house.”
“Okay, we’ll try it. What have we got to lose?” They drove around their area. In a few minutes, Elder Taylor shouted, “Stop! Let’s visit that house.”
They parked and walked up to the house. A lady answered and said she wasn’t interested. The next house Elder Taylor tried had been vacant for two months. Alan tried one house and a dog nearly bit him.
By that time it was time for lunch. Alan was in a bad mood.
“We must be doing something wrong,” Elder Taylor announced. “Why don’t we fast?”
“Every time we turn around you want to fast,” Alan snapped. “What have you got against eating?”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I want to get the most out of my mission.”
“What do you think I’m doing here?” Alan replied angrily.
They drove in silence the rest of the way to the apartment. Alan fixed some sandwiches and juice.
“I’m not eating,” Elder Taylor said cooly.
“Look, I’m the senior companion and I say you eat! You can’t fast every other day!”
They ate quietly, each feeling justified in his feelings about the other.
Finally Elder Taylor asked, “Do you want to try inspiration contacting again?”
“The way I feel now,” Alan replied, “I’d drive into the Atlantic Ocean before I’d ever feel any inspiration.”
“Then what are we going to do this afternoon?” Elder Taylor asked.
“I don’t know.” Alan looked out the window, afraid he was going to lose control of himself. “I want to be close to the Lord. But it’s so hard. Maybe the Lord can’t work through me.”
“I’m sure he can. Look, you’re the senior companion. I’ll do whatever you want.”
Alan glanced over at Elder Taylor. “Maybe if we prayed.”
After the prayer they got up off their knees and Elder Taylor asked, “What do you think?”
“I think we’ve got to get a plan.” Alan walked to the map of the area on the wall. “We’ve got one week left before the area is closed down. In that time we’re going to visit every house. Every house. And we’ll start right here,” his finger went down on one of the small towns in the area. “Then we’ll move south until we’ve visited every house.”
That afternoon they drove to the town that was to be their starting place. In the second house they found the family the Lord had prepared for them.
I should have known, Alan thought. The Lord explained it all in the ninth section of the Doctrine and Covenants. [D&C 9]

In September 1977, I was nineteen years old and studying in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala, to become a school teacher. One afternoon while walking home, I noticed a little stream of rain water running down the street toward my apartment. It was carrying a piece of paper. Just to entertain myself, I decided to keep pace with that piece of paper. When I got to my apartment, I picked it up.
It was a pamphlet. I will never forget its title: The Church as Organized by Jesus Christ. At one time I had been very interested in finding the church that Jesus Christ had set up. I had investigated many churches, but I had joined none. I had finally given up my search. But now as I read the title on the pamphlet, somehow I knew I had found the true church. On the back of the pamphlet was a name—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I determined to find that church.
School resumed in January, and I went back to Quetzaltenango. Although I had lived in that city for three years, I had never seen a Latter-day Saint church there. One Sunday I decided that if one existed, I was going to find it. I got up early and began asking everyone I met if they knew the location of the church. At first, no one did. Others sent me in the wrong direction. But after three hours, I finally located the meetinghouse and literally ran toward it.
The building was beautiful. I wondered if this was a church just for the rich. Because I am a shy person, I quietly took a seat in the back of the chapel. I knew no one there, and nobody spoke to me, but I loved the meeting. There was a feeling in my heart that I had never felt in any other place on earth.
The next Sunday I returned, thinking that if the preacher asked people to come up front and accept Christ, I would be the first to go. But nobody called us to go up. Three members shared short messages. How different this church is! I thought. But I liked it. Unfortunately, the members still did not notice me, and I decided I would go back only one more week. I couldn’t keep attending if I had no one to talk to. At least I would have a beautiful memory to cherish.
The meetings were equally pleasing on the third Sunday. When they were over, everyone began leaving, talking happily. I sat on a bench in the entryway, almost in tears at the idea of not coming back. Then a well-dressed young man with blond hair sat down next to me. In broken Spanish, he asked how long I had been a member of the Church.
“I’m not a member,” I said, “only visiting.” He instantly took out a little book and asked for my address.
“Why do you need my address?”
“We would like to get to know you and teach you more about the Church,” he explained.
With great pleasure I accepted his invitation, and the missionaries began teaching me the gospel. I asked a great many questions, which they could not always answer, but they always came back with the answers the next day. People at school ridiculed me when they learned what I was doing, and family members who belonged to other churches kept trying to argue with me. But I kept learning, and in time I was baptized.

Like any couple, my husband and I have had disagreements during our marriage. But one incident stands out in my mind. I no longer recall the reason for our disagreement, but we ended up not speaking at all, and I remember feeling that it was all my husband’s fault. I felt I had done absolutely nothing for which I needed to apologize.
As the day went by, I waited for my husband to say he was sorry. Surely he could see how wrong he was. It must be obvious how much he had hurt my feelings. I felt I had to stand up for myself; it was the principle that mattered.
As the day was drawing to a close, I started to realize that I was waiting in vain, so I went to the Lord in prayer. I prayed that my husband would realize what he had done and how it was hurting our marriage. I prayed that he would be inspired to apologize so we could end our disagreement.
As I was praying, I felt a strong impression that I should go to my husband and apologize. I was a bit shocked by this impression and immediately pointed out in my prayer that I had done nothing wrong and therefore should not have to say I was sorry. A thought came strongly to my mind: “Do you want to be right, or do you want to be married?”
As I considered this question, I realized that I could hold onto my pride and not give in until he apologized, but how long would that take? Days? I was miserable while we weren’t speaking to each other. I understood that while this incident itself wouldn’t be the end of our marriage, if I were always unyielding, that might cause serious damage over the years. I decided it was more important to have a happy, loving marriage than to keep my pride intact over something that would later seem trivial.
I went to my husband and apologized for upsetting him. He also apologized, and soon we were happy and united again in love.
Since that time there have been occasions when I have needed to ask myself that question again: “Do you want to be right, or do you want to be married?” How grateful I am for the great lesson I learned the first time I faced that question. It has always helped me realign my perspective and put my husband and my marriage before my own pride.

“Bridgette, have you seen my takkies?” Jaide said. Sometimes Bridgette borrowed Jaide’s clothes. This time, Jaide’s tennis shoes were missing.
“Bridgette!” Jaide called again. “Have you …”
Bridgette came into the room, holding Jaide’s white shoes. Only they didn’t look white anymore. They were covered with mud!
“What did you do?” Jaide said.
“I had to go outside,” Bridgette said. “And it was raining. So I put on your shoes. But I stepped in some mud and …”
“You’re always ruining my things!”
“And you’re always mean to me!”
That’s when Jaide heard awful words come out of her mouth: “I wish you weren’t my sister!”
Bridgette started to cry. Then she ran out of the room.
Jaide started to cry too. She hadn’t meant to say that.
Jaide looked out the window. Along the street she could see the lavender blossoms of the jacaranda trees. There were lots of them where her family lived in South Africa.
Usually, seeing the pretty trees made Jaide feel happy. But right now she didn’t feel happy at all. She had hurt Bridgette’s feelings with those sharp, ugly words.
Now she wasn’t sure what to do. She sat down at the table and looked at her scriptures. Last night she had been reading a story with Dad and Bridgette. It was about when an angry crowd came to take Jesus away.
Jaide opened her scriptures to that part and read, “And, behold, one of them which were with Jesus stretched out his hand, and drew his sword, and struck a servant of the high priest’s, and smote off his ear.”
The disciple must have been really angry that Jesus was being taken away. Jaide read the next verse:
“Then said Jesus unto him, Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword” (Matthew 26:51–52).
Then Jesus healed the man’s ear. Jesus was kind, even though the man was there to hurt Him.
Now Jaide realized what she needed to do. She needed to forgive her sister, like Jesus would. And then she would try to help her heal from the cutting things she had said earlier.
Jaide bowed her head and said a little prayer. “Please, Heavenly Father, help me make things right with Bridgette.”
Jaide looked out at the jacaranda trees again. She got a piece of paper and started drawing. She drew a picture of their street, lined with the beautiful trees. In the corner, she wrote, “I love you, Bridgette!” Then she went to find her sister.
Bridgette was sitting alone, staring at the floor.
“I made this for you.” Jaide held out her picture of the jacaranda trees.
Bridgette looked at the picture. “Thank you! It’s so pretty!”
“What I said was mean,” Jaide said. “I’m really sorry.”
“But I ruined your shoes.”
“It’s OK,” Jaide said. “I forgive you. Will you forgive me for saying something horrible that I didn’t really mean?”
“Yes!” Bridgette said. “Do you still want to be sisters?”
“Of course! I love you, and I want to be your sister forever.”
She liked the way those loving, happy words felt coming out of her mouth. It felt good to follow Jesus.

My dear brothers and sisters, I remember as a little girl driving across the Nevada desert with my family to attend general conference in this Tabernacle. Automobiles did not have air-conditioning, so we traveled at night with a canvas water bag tied to the front of the car in case the radiator boiled over. I remember standing outside this building, singing the hymns of Zion in the darkness of the morning, waiting for the large wooden doors to open. I remember secretly hoping that I wouldn’t be seated behind one of the wide, round pillars, or worse, a lady wearing a large hat. Though I was scarcely tall enough to see, I remember the feelings that came over me as everyone rose when the prophet entered. Those feelings of excited reverence are spiritual feelings that return each time I enter this building or hear our leaders speak in general conference. I remember what I have received and heard. I remember what I know and what I have felt.

As they translated, Joseph and Oliver were struck by these teachings. Like his brother Alvin, Joseph had never been baptized, and he wanted to know more about the ordinance and the authority necessary to perform it.8
On May 15, 1829, the rains cleared and Joseph and Oliver walked into the woods near the Susquehanna River. Kneeling, they asked God about baptism and the remission of sins. As they prayed, the voice of the Redeemer spoke peace to them, and an angel appeared in a cloud of light. He introduced himself as John the Baptist and placed his hands on their heads. Joy filled their hearts as God’s love surrounded them.
Illustrations by Ben Sowards
“Upon you my fellow servants,” John declared, “in the name of Messiah I confer the Priesthood of Aaron, which holds the keys of the ministering of angels, and of the gospel of repentance, and of baptism by immersion for the remission of sins.”9
The angel’s voice was mild, but it seemed to pierce Joseph and Oliver to the core.10 He explained that the Aaronic Priesthood authorized them to perform baptisms, and he commanded them to baptize each other after he departed. He also said they would receive additional priesthood power later, which would give them authority to confer the gift of the Holy Ghost on each other and on those they baptized.
After John the Baptist left, Joseph and Oliver walked to the river and waded in. Joseph baptized Oliver first, and as soon as he came out of the water, Oliver began to prophesy about things that would soon happen. Oliver then baptized Joseph, who rose from the river prophesying about the rise of Christ’s Church, which the Lord had promised to establish among them.11
Following John the Baptist’s instructions, they returned to the woods and ordained each other to the Aaronic Priesthood. In their study of the Bible, as well as their translation of the ancient record, Joseph and Oliver had often read about the authority to act in God’s name. Now they carried that authority themselves.
After their baptism, Joseph and Oliver found that scriptures that once seemed dense and mysterious suddenly became clearer. Truth and understanding flooded their minds.12

Mark Jensen, 16, got a taste of missionary life while spending three years in Copenhagen, Denmark. His parents, President and Sister Richard C. Jensen of Bountiful, Utah, were heading up the mission there.

When he was ordained a priest, Mark was able to baptize two Danish friends into the Church. Through a mission basketball program, youth activities, and Mark’s friendship, Kirstine Sorensen and Robin Hansen became interested in the Church.

I read the “Let Your Light Shine” article (Jan. 2018) and had a chance to let my light shine with my friend. I had a feeling that I should grab a bag of my favorite chips before school. After lunch my friend looked sad, and I asked him what was wrong. He said he had forgotten his lunch. I remembered my chips, so I gave them to him. After school he came up to me and said, “That was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me at school.”
Durham M., age 11, Utah, USA

I am reminded of an experience I had at the end of World War II. I received a telephone call from a man in New York, a multimillionaire who had a son in a military camp just outside of Salt Lake City. This young man had expected to be shipped overseas. Then the war ended and he remained in this camp, crowded like a sardine in a can. The boy was discouraged, and his father was worried. “Would you see if you can cheer him up a bit?” the father asked. I said I would be happy to.
I called the young man and invited him into the office for a little visit. When he arrived, I said, “Would you like to go have dinner with the family? My wife doesn’t know you’re coming, but you’ll be welcome.” He said, “I can’t imagine anything I’d rather do tonight.” We went out and had our dinner. We had our prayer. We gathered around the piano afterwards and enjoyed ourselves with some singing. Then after we visited for a while, I drove him down to his bus.
In a few days I got a letter from his father, and you’d have thought I’d saved that boy’s life. The father quoted the letter from his son, “Father, I didn’t know that there were any people in this world that lived like that.”
Yes, we take it for granted. Here was a man worth millions of dollars—could buy his son anything—and yet this simple thing of prayer and devotion in the home passed him by.

I recall hearing a man telling of how he came into the Church. He said:
“I had a date with a lovely young woman. When I called for her, I noticed on the table a copy of the Book of Mormon. I had never heard of it before. I began to read. I became interested. I got a copy of the book and read it through.
“I had only the traditional idea of God and Jesus Christ. I had never given serious thought to the matter. But as I read this book there came into my mind light and understanding of eternal truths, and into my heart a testimony that God is our Eternal Father, and that Jesus is our Savior.”

I sat next to my dad in a strange new place. This church lacked crucifixes and gilded paint. There was no altar. The walls were simple, and the stand was a wooden podium that could not be considered ornate in any way. The “minister” wore a business suit instead of the robes I was used to. No statues, no candles, no procession.
I was an outsider in this church and, as my dad insisted, we were going to stay the entire three hours. This was the first time I had been to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
My dad was Catholic too, but he had been attending The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for a year. At first I felt alone and out of place sitting in the simple meeting hall, but things quickly changed. Despite the fact that my presence had not been announced, many people welcomed me and introduced themselves.
I stayed with my dad during sacrament meeting. When Sunday School began, I went to the adult class because I wasn’t sure how I would fit in with the youth. The stake president, who had become friends with my dad, was also my allergy doctor, and he had a son who was about my age. He wanted me to go with his son to Sunday School, but I was content staying with Dad the entire three hours.
Ten minutes after Sunday School began, Brent Williams, a good friend of mine who started Catholic school with me that year, walked in and recruited me to go to the youth Sunday School class. I was shocked. I just kept thinking, “No, Brent’s not a Mormon. That’s impossible.” I guess I had assumed I would never meet a Mormon outside of a church building. It’s as if I thought they couldn’t go to public schools or Catholic schools with other kids.
Now I had a best friend who was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Brent introduced me to everyone in Sunday School and, within 10 minutes, I had 10 best friends.

Elder and Sister Barlow served as mission leaders in Ecuador from 2017 to 2020, including at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic. During that time, many missionaries returned home, while other missionaries were reassigned to the Barlows’ mission. Elder and Sister Barlow witnessed the hand of the Lord directing those missionary efforts.

“We put our trust in the Lord,” he recalled. “There were times when we didn’t know what was going to happen the next day. We remained flexible and ready. We were prayerful, and it all worked out.”

This experience reinforced lessons he had been taught earlier that the Lord is in charge and that we can always trust Him.

“Mom?” I stood in the doorway of Mom’s room. She sat at her desk, typing on her laptop. She ran the dance studio where my best friend, Jessica, and I took lessons.
“Hi, Hailey. What’s up?” she asked.
“It’s still OK if I go to church tomorrow, right?”
“Of course, Hailey. You know it is.” She was right; I knew she didn’t mind. I’d been going for three months, ever since Jessica invited me to a Primary activity. Then she invited me to church one Sunday. I’d never missed since.
More than anything I wanted to be baptized. I loved going to church. I’d learned how to pray. When I read my scriptures, my heart felt warm and calm. When I had asked Jessica’s mom about getting baptized, she told me to talk to my mom first.
“One more thing,” I said. Mom turned. “Yes?”
“I just want … Mom, I want to be baptized.”
“Baptized? I’m sure you could get baptized at your dad’s church.”
I just looked at the scuffed toes of my jazz shoes.
“But that’s not the same as getting baptized in the church Jessica attends, is it?” Mom said.
“No, Mom. Did you know that men who hold the priesthood can baptize with the same authority as John the Baptist?” I told her everything I’d learned about why it was important to be baptized by the right person.
“I’m impressed, Hailey,” Mom said. “It sounds like you’ve done your research. But are you ready to make such a commitment? If you’re baptized into this church, I’ll expect you to be faithful to it. Do you even know all the things they believe?”
My mouth went dry. I hadn’t gone to church very long, and I definitely didn’t know everything yet. But I felt the Church is true. Wasn’t that enough?
Then I got an idea.
“The Articles of Faith!” I said. Mom looked confused. “They’re thirteen statements that tell the beliefs of the Church. I could learn those.”
“Tell you what,” Mom said. “When you’ve memorized all thirteen and can tell me what they mean, I’ll give you permission to be baptized.”
After dance class the next day I told Jessica the news.
“That’s great!” she said. “I learned the Articles of Faith for the Faith in God Award. It’ll be easy.” But I could tell something was bothering her.
“Are you OK?” I asked.
“I’m just nervous for our dance recital,” she said. “I can’t get all the steps right.”
“Here’s an idea,” I said. “If you’ll help me memorize and understand the Articles of Faith, I’ll help you with those tricky steps.”
“Deal!” Jessica said.
We practiced at Jessica’s house almost every day for weeks. Soon I was able to recite and explain all the Articles of Faith, and Jessica could dance all the steps with her eyes closed.
Mom noticed Jessica’s improvements during class. “All the time you two spend together is really paying off.”
“If only she knew what you’ve been practicing!” Jessica whispered.
The night of our performance, Mom gave me two thumbs up from backstage. I grinned back. She was excited for the dance recital, but I was more excited for the curtains to close so we could go home. I couldn’t wait to show her what I’d been working on: my memory and my testimony.
When the curtains closed, I hurried to Mom. “Mom,” I said, “I’m ready.”
I recited the Articles of Faith and explained what they meant.
Mom smiled. “You really do understand them, Hailey. I can see that this is important to you.”
Then she hugged me. “I give you my permission to be baptized.”
I was so happy I could hardly speak. Soon I was baptized, and I knew I had made the right choice.

I discovered the following scripture during the years my husband was not a member of the Church: “If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God.” (John 7:17.)
I took great comfort in knowing that in many ways my husband was doing God’s will. We had home evening, we stored a year’s supply of food, and he encouraged my children and me in church attendance and service. That scripture helped me realize that someday my husband would gain the testimony that what he was doing actually was God’s will.
He eventually did realize it and was baptized. Now this scripture reminds me that the more I live the gospel, the more assuredly I know it is of God.