Gospel Story Finder

When Elder Hales finished serving as mission president in 1979, the family moved directly to Europe. There, as area supervisor, he worked with Elder Thomas S. Monson, then of the Quorum of the Twelve, and Hans B. Ringger, then a regional representative. They worked closely with the leaders of countries where the gospel had not yet been established. In East Germany, they talked with leaders about the possibility of building a temple. Each time the Church leaders made the request to build, it was denied because “no building materials were available.” Finally, they asked where building materials might be available. Eventually the answer came: Freiberg. Soon permission was granted to build a temple there.

I was serving some time ago as an area supervisor of the German-speaking missions. My area also included Italy, which had just been recently opened for the preaching of the gospel, and many were coming into the Church. We find that where the gospel begins to roll forth, all kinds of spurious communications also begin to roll forth. We lost our mission president there, so I was sent there for three months to be the mission president. I had a chance to visit almost all the branches in Italy. Down in southern Italy, after I finished speaking on tithing because that seemed to be a problem over there, as it is everywhere, a man came forward and said that he was receiving revelation from the Lord. “Oh,” I said, “what kind of revelation are you receiving?” He said he got it in a code, and he had found the key to the code on a piece of paper under a rock. He sat in his living room and these numbers came to him. He wrote them down; then he went to his key and translated and thought. In this way he received revelation from the Lord.
Well, he was speaking Italian, of course, and I couldn’t understand Italian, so one of the elders took down all the revelations, translated them, and put them on a tape so I’d know what kinds of revelations he was receiving. It was very interesting. It sounded very much like the Pearl of Great Price, only it went much beyond the Pearl of Great Price. In the “revelations” he had received, three things came out that he particularly was going to do. He was going to lead the lost Ten Tribes out of the north country. Second, he was going to bring forth the sealed portion of the Book of Mormon. Third, he was going to be one of the two prophets to withstand the forces of Gog and Magog in Jerusalem in the last days. I said, “You are really going to be busy!”
“Well,” he said, “if it’s not of the Lord, where does it come from?”
“Well—may I interview you?”
He said, “Yes, I am willing.”
I asked, “Are you morally clean?”
He said, “Yes.”
I said, “I mean, have you ever had relations with a woman other than your wife since you joined this Church?”
He said, “Oh, yes.”
“When was the last time?”
“Well, it was two months ago.”
“Do you pay your tithing?”
“No.” We didn’t have to go much beyond that.
I said, “You may rest assured this is not of the Lord. The Lord does not operate from this kind of polluted stream.”

To the many missionaries who may be listening this evening, I share the observation that the seeds of testimony frequently do not immediately take root and flower. Bread cast upon the water returns, at times, only after many days. But it does return.
I answered the ring of my telephone one evening to hear a voice ask, “Are you related to an Elder Monson who years ago served in the New England Mission?”
I answered that such was not the case. The caller introduced himself as a Brother Leonardo Gambardella and then mentioned that an Elder Monson and an Elder Bonner called at his home long ago and bore their testimonies to him and his wife. They had listened but had done nothing further to apply their teachings. Subsequently they moved to California, where, some 13 years later, they again found the truth and were converted and baptized. Brother Gambardella then asked if there were any way he could reach the elders who first had visited with them, that he might express his profound gratitude for their testimonies, which had remained with him and his wife.
I checked the records. I located the elders. Can you imagine their surprise when, now married with families of their own, I telephoned them and told them the good news—even the culmination of their early efforts. They instantly remembered the Gambardellas. I arranged a conference telephone call so they could personally extend their congratulations and welcome them into the Church. They did. There were tears, but they were tears of joy.

When I got baptized, I immediately wanted to leave the Primary to go to Young Men and be able to begin my priesthood service. I started to really know my Heavenly Father and my identity. I helped clean the building on Saturdays, and came very early on Sundays, sometimes even before the building was open. As I grew older, my desire to serve a full-time mission grew likewise. Through seminary and institute, I was able to prepare for my mission and had the privilege to serve in the DRC Kinshasa West Mission from 2021 to 2023. I’m grateful for the restored gospel and for the joy it has brought to me and to my family.

On a rainy Saturday morning prior to a Kolwezi district conference in 2013, President Ellie Monga, Counselor in the Lubumbashi Democratic Republic of the Congo Mission and Elder Jeffrey Wright, the mission finance secretary, welcomed two strangers at the mission office. Their clothes were muddy, and they were exhausted. They arrived pushing a single, beat-up bicycle and carrying a parcel that was wrapped in a torn and dirty plastic.
President Monga and Elder Wright inquired about their journey and learned that these two tired pilgrims, Brothers Yumba Muzimba Paul and Muba Wa Umbalo Delphin, had arrived from Kinkondja, a city located 600 kilometers (375 miles) north of Kolwezi. They had departed eight days earlier as part of a larger group that was traveling to attend the district conference. En route, most of the group fell sick and decided to return to their homes—but these two brothers were determined to complete the journey by themselves, taking turns between pedaling the bicycle and riding on the back. They said that they had travelled the last three days continuously through the night without stopping and without food—and after a tire went flat, they pushed the bicycle through the rain along the muddy roads. Their bicycle was broken, and these brothers had no money for tools or parts. They had not eaten for three days. They did not know how they would fund a return to their homes.
Brother Paul and Brother Delphin explained that they represented the roughly 60 Saints living in the Kinkondja area and had come to bring tithing from those Saints and to attend the district conference. This came as a surprise to President Monga and Elder Wright as there was no officially organized Kinkondja branch of the Church. Elder Wright recorded in his journal, “It was my honor to receive [the tithing envelopes]. It was my honor to process them.” Elder Wright continued, “I have never felt like I had handled such sacred money before in my whole lifetime.”

I had just turned eight, and it was getting close to my baptism date. I asked my mom if I could invite my second-grade teacher to my baptism. My mom said, “Of course.” I wrote my teacher an invitation and gave it to her. She said she would love to come but had a family commitment on the same day. Even though she wasn’t there for my baptism, I felt happy that I had invited her. Maybe it would make her curious about my beliefs.
Paige G., age 9, Texas, USA

Once, while I was on a solo flight over mountain country, my airplane was suddenly engulfed in a thick cloud. I could barely see the tip of the wing out the right window. Below me, the fields, the miniature houses, and the ribbons of road wrapping up the green valley floor had vanished. A Cessna 150 has no radar, and with the familiar landmarks gone, I panicked. Was I too low? How close were the mountains? Disorientation could prove fatal.
At that instant I remembered my flight instructor’s words: “Return to remembrance of past sunshine.” I took a deep breath and coaxed the plane into a 180-degree turn. The clouds began to thin, and sunshine returned. I saw a tiny tractor below, changing a field from yellow to brown. No one heard me shout for joy.

Lester was always filled with surprises. One day, I was helping him cut grass around runway lights. We’d finished half of them and were lying on our backs watching clouds appear and disappear. All of a sudden, he said, “Ya know something? I believe in God.”
I looked over at him, not sure I’d heard right.
“Yep,” he added in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. “Yep, there has to be someone up there somewhere to have made such a beautiful place as this. …”
And it was Lester who taught me the “What-If” Game.
“What if one day yer flying along and ya smell smoke?”
“What if one day yer puddling along up there, minding your own business, and all of a sudden. …”
He had hundreds of what-ifs.
One evening as we were flying back and forth across an Ohio summer sky, polishing up a few maneuvers I’d need for my private pilot’s flight test, Lester suddenly reached up without warning and cut the switch on the plane’s engine. My heart stopped along with the propeller. Then he sat back, pulled his cap down over his eyes, folded his arms, and feigned sleep.
I panicked.
I’d stood on the ground and watched Lester come in dead stick a hundred times. So I knew it could be done. But Lester was good—and he’d been flying for 500 years! I was just a kid!
My neck was starting to unscrew from my shoulders as I swiveled my head trying to pick the best cornfield, wheatfield, hayfield, highway, Lake Erie, any place to land! We’d drilled on this a hundred times! But it was always with the engine idling. This was different. The gentle kick of an idling propeller was gone and the altimeter was unwinding—fast!
I finally spotted a good field and started to align the nose with it. It would be a tricky approach. We’d have to cross some woods and then slip quickly into a field I knew would be much too tight. But if I did it perfectly and then kicked it into a groundloop just as we reached the far side fence …
Lester stirred. “Why don’t ya use Bunch’s strip?” he asked, pointing downward. “You didn’t look right under us. We’re right over top of Bunch Woods’s home strip!”
He was right! Straight below us was about 1,200 feet of beautiful Ohio grass with Bunch Woods’s house and plane sitting smack at the end.
When we stopped rolling after landing, Lester sat up, set his cap back on straight and said, “Mebbe ya better play the What-If Game more often.” He turned to look at me and his face was serious. “Because, ya know, it’s not a matter of if you’ll ever have an emergency in flight, it’s a matter of when. And when it happens, you’ll be glad you stretched for excellence instead of just being good.”
For me, that night came years later in Gallup, New Mexico, on the way home from a meeting in Tucson. I’d pushed fuel limits a little too far and suddenly found myself with no reserve to reach an alternative field. A mean little thundersquall was sitting on the airport’s north fence sending wind gusts up to 60 miles an hour across the runway. My wife and kids were with me.
Lester was right.
I’ve played the What-If Game many times since then. It’s easy and kind of fun, too. All you do is find a time when you’re a little bored and ask yourself, What if … ?
“What do I do if some day I’m out with the guys and … ?”
“What do I do if some day I’m driving along, minding my own business, and … ?”
“What do I do if some dark night, my boyfriend … ?”
It’s an easy game to play. It doesn’t take any equipment to speak of. And you always win.
But the best part is that when the real thing comes along, you have a plan ready to pull out and use when you need it. Because when you really need it, there won’t be time to plan.
Somewhere, sometime, some night when you’re all alone with no one to help you, you’ll be faced with a split-second decision. It’ll be a decision you’ll have to make alone. It may involve alcohol. It may involve drugs. It may involve sex. It may be dishonesty. But whatever it is, that time will come. It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when and where.
I learned the What-If Game when I was a kid. It’s a game that needs to be played frequently and well. For the laws of life, like the law of gravity, are strictly enforced.

As I participated on the sidelines during the first harrowing landing on the moon, the thought came to me that in a very real way Neil Armstrong was all alone. There were thousands in the communication net, probably the biggest assemblage of talent available working together in the world, yet there was only one man in the whole system who had his hands on the controls. He would either do well or he would crash, depending on his own ability. What he had learned and trained himself to do was going to count right now. He did very well, but in doing it, he probably felt terribly alone. Many times during our lives we find ourself in situations that can be compared to this, where we feel terribly alone.
Now in another way, Neil would be the very first one to admit—and indeed, he would insist—that he was simply the apex of a tremendous team. A lot of people were behind him who could help, who had helped, and who would help if required, plus a great many people were wishing him well.
In the last 60 seconds before touchdown, the computer sent 12 messages to the crew. Twelve times in that last 60 seconds it wrote out the number 1202. Neil had memorized what 1202 meant years before, because of the significance of the message. It means, in essence: “The computer has failed. You are on your own. Good luck.”
Now, we had built a radar altimeter so incredibly accurate that every time we flew over a rock that was more than one meter in height, it would change the altitude, call up the computer, and tell it, “Hey, you have a new altitude.” If the computer got more than 1/1000th of a second behind in its calculations, the 1202 light went on. With the altitude in error by only a few meters because of the size of rocks they were flying over, the correction would be changed imperceptibly, so it was totally safe to ignore that particular problem. Neil had even been told ahead of time that if any caution warning lights came on during descent, he was to ignore them. If anything of real importance came up, ground control would call him and let him know.
On the ground was a man whose job was to ascertain when the 1202 lights could be ignored. If they could be, he would say nothing, but if anything was wrong, he would speak up. Neil had to decide whether this man was really telling him that everything was all right, or if the man was confused and didn’t know what to say, or perhaps he had gone out to the water cooler. The people who were giving him advice were giving the advice by simply being silent in this particular moment.
Sometimes we find ourselves in situations where in one sense we are desperately and tragically alone, and in another sense we have a lot of people supporting us who can help us if we listen. These kinds of situations are what I call “the Neil Armstrong situation”—when we are faced with decisions, challenges, or temptations where what we do is as critical for a period of our life as what Neil did was critical for that particular flight.

One day I telephoned a lady who had investigated the Church for four years. Over the phone, she told me she didn’t need the Book of Mormon because she had found a “more beautiful book.” When we went to her house, my companion and I hoped we could convince her to give the Book of Mormon another chance. She showed us parts of her book dealing with charity and pride, and she looked at us as if to say, That isn’t written in your book, is it?

Fortunately, I had studied the Book of Mormon in seminary that year, and I knew of some scriptures on those subjects. I soon found them and started to read. I explained them to her in a way I had not known I was capable of.

When I finished, she had tears in her eyes. She said she had intended to give her copy of the Book of Mormon back to us, but now she had decided to try reading this most beautiful book—the Book of Mormon—again.

Jenay watched as Mommy set the freshly baked white cake on the kitchen table. Tonight was Christmas Eve, when her family would celebrate Jesus’s birth.
Jenay liked going caroling with her family, baking gingerbread men, and decorating the tree. But remembering Jesus’s birthday was her favorite thing to do at Christmas.
Can I help you put the icing on the cake?
We need to let it cool first.
Jenay helped Mommy clean off the counters and wash the dishes.
Do you think the cake is cool now?
I think it’s just about right.
Mommy and Jenay spread fluffy white icing on the cake.
After dinner Daddy asked the family to gather in the living room.
Even though we know that Jesus was born in the spring, we like to celebrate His birthday at this time of year.
Mommy read the story of Jesus’s birth from the Bible and the Book of Mormon. Then Daddy bore his testimony of Jesus’s Atonement and Resurrection.
One by one, the family members opened their presents to Jesus and read what they had written on a slip of paper. With Mommy’s help, Jenay had written, “Be more reverent at church.”
I’m proud of each of you. All of your gifts show your love for Jesus Christ.
Mommy cut the cake and served it on fancy dishes. Jenay took a bite of cake and smiled.
I love Jesus, and I know He loves me.
A sweet feeling of peace settled over her like a cozy warm quilt.

I remember how my father impressed the seriousness of unchastity upon my mind. He and I were standing in the railroad station in Rexburg, Idaho, in the early morning of November 12, 1920. We heard the train whistle and knew that in three minutes I would be on my way to Australia to fill a mission. In that short interval my father said to me, among other things, “My son, you are going a long way from home. But your mother and I, your brother and sisters, will be with you constantly in our thoughts and prayers, we shall rejoice with you in your successes, and we shall sorrow with you in your disappointments. When you are released and return, we shall be glad to greet you and welcome you back into the family circle. But remember this, my son, we would rather come to this station and take your body off the train in a casket than to have you come home unclean, having lost your virtue.”

I pondered that statement at the time. I did not then have the full understanding of it that my father had, but I have never forgotten it.

Last year I was noticing how I didn’t have any “real” talents. Then I received my patriarchal blessing. It said, “You have a special gift to work with people.” When I heard that, I knew what my talent was and decided to do whatever I could to pursue that talent. I was called as the Beehive president and have been striving to do what I can to be a good leader for the Beehives of my ward.
Sherry Olson, 14Sonora, California

After lunch Pa came into my room. He sat down on the edge of my bed and looked me straight in the eyes. “Did I ever tell you about the oak tree that I used to play on when I was about your age?” he asked.
“No, Pa.”
“Well, I found this old tree that had fallen across Miller Creek. The trunk of that tree was about as big around as this room. My folks always knew where to find me in the summertime. I would play on that tree until dark. I pretended that I was shipwrecked and that I was the captain. I fought off dangerous pirates and enormous sharks. I had the greatest adventures on it that I could imagine.”
I hadn’t really known much about Pa when he was a kid. It felt strange to imagine him as a little kid on that tree, letting his imagination run free. I wished that I could have been there with him.
“My adventures on that fallen trunk are some of my happiest memories,” Pa continued. He looked over at me. “I think that every youngster ought to have something happy to remember about growing up. Something he can hold on to.”
“Yes, Pa,” I said.
“So,” he said with a crooked grin, “I’ve thought a lot about what you said and how you feel about that barn. Maybe that’s what you’ll remember when you’re older.” Pa leaned down and picked up the drawings off the floor. “Do you still want to try to rebuild that old relic out there?”
“Oh yes, Pa!” I hugged him as hard as I could.
Pa stood and walked toward the door, then stopped, held out his hand, and said, “Well, come on then. We’d better get started.”

Cassie watched as Mom unloaded the one bag of groceries from the car. Thanksgiving was in two days, and they had just returned from shopping.

Cassie thought of their Thanksgivings in the past. There had been turkey, two different kinds of stuffing, rolls, pies, and lots more. Cassie didn’t mind that they wouldn’t have the same feast this year, but she wished that her parents smiled more.

Mom’s eyes were filled with worry when she thought no one was looking. Things hadn’t been easy for Cassie’s family ever since Dad had started his own engineering company. He had been spending long hours at the small office he and his partner rented.

Cassie’s parents had spent a family home evening explaining to the children that they would all have to do without some things until their dad’s business picked up.

Six-year-old Cassie had struggled to understand what that meant. Her older brother Steve had looked concerned, then nodded and said, “Sure thing.”

“We have enough money to support your brother on his mission, but there won’t be much left for extras,” Dad had added.

Cassie’s brother Rob was serving a mission in California. She knew her parents had set aside money years ago to pay for his mission.

The day before Thanksgiving, Steve carried a large box inside and set it on the kitchen table. “Mom, look what I found on the porch.”

Mom laughed and cried as she pulled things out of the box—a turkey, pumpkin and apple pies, cans of cranberry sauce, two loaves of homemade bread, and a sack of nuts.

“There’s no name,” Steve said, after searching through the box once more.

That made Mom cry some more. “Whoever sent this wanted to remain anonymous,” she said.

“What’s a—nonymous?” Cassie asked.

Mom wiped the tears trickling down her cheeks with the back of her hand. “That means the person who left all this wonderful food didn’t want us to know who did it.”

“Like when we did things for that family last Christmas?” Cassie asked. “We left a box on the porch, rang the doorbell, and then ran away.”

“Just like that,” Mom agreed.

“I liked doing that,” Cassie said, remembering the warm feeling she’d had in leaving the gifts for the family.

“Me too,” Steve said.

Cassie looked at the box of food. “Does this mean we’re poor?” She remembered scripture stories from Primary about feeding the poor.

Mom gathered Steve and Cassie close and hugged them. “It means we’re rich in friends. That’s the best kind of rich there is.”

Cassie thought about what Mom had said. She decided this Thanksgiving might be the best one of all.

In our family there are only three of us, my younger brother, my mother, and me. My brother and I decided to prepare ourselves to go on missions. We had to save our money because my mom did not have any money to help us.
A lot of trials came to us. One day a typhoon in our province caused a big coconut tree to fall down on our house, and our small house was destroyed. My brother and I used the money we had saved for our missions to rebuild our house. We had to start saving our money again.
A few months later I contracted malaria. I had to go to the hospital, so my mission money had to be spent again.
Discouraged about saving for a mission, I prayed to God and fasted to overcome the trial. Then our Father in Heaven helped me, and I was able to earn the money I needed.
One of my favorite scriptures is a simple verse: “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you” (3 Ne. 13:33). That verse is very encouraging to me. I have overcome trials and challenges in my life because of my faith and desire to go on a mission.
My brother and I are both serving missions now. I know God helps His children if we do His will.

Another example of President Kimball’s discipleship occurred one Christmas Eve several years ago. He called and asked if I was busy. I quickly responded, “Not at all. What can I do for you, President Kimball?” He told me that he needed a companion to go with him to the Primary Children’s Medical Center to give blessings to several children from South America, as well as to some American Indian children.
Once there, we went from floor to floor giving blessings to them and to many others. I was deeply affected by the love of President Kimball and by his tender friendship with each child. He exemplified the tender, loving friendship that the Savior would give. It was easy to see how he could say, “The Savior is my friend.”

Scripture study was a welcome break for Angel, even if her friends didn’t understand why she’d take time away from her school classes to bother with religion. “A lot of them think it’s strange that I spend time with my church. Most of my classmates don’t have any religious beliefs,” says Angel, who was the only Church member in the Taipei First Girls’ School student body of 4,000-plus. “Some students will discuss religion with me, but most of the time they just think being LDS is strange because it takes me away from my schoolwork.”
One of those classmates is a friend Angel invited to church one Sunday. Angel says her friend had a generally positive experience at church, and even told Angel afterward that she felt religion was good, and that she might think about becoming religious herself—after she graduates from the university. “She just didn’t think she had the time for church,” Angel adds.
Even Angel’s father, Liu Chen Mei Yu, isn’t completely convinced the time his daughter spends learning the gospel is all that productive. He often questions if Angel’s time wouldn’t be better spent studying or going to the library. When Angel’s mother, Catherine, joined the Church in 1984, Angel was only seven. Although Liu Chen Mei Yu didn’t object to his wife’s baptism, he had no interest in joining the Church with her. However he did allow Angel to be baptized when she turned eight. “My father is interesting,” Angel adds. “Sometimes he will say, ‘Since you have an exam coming up, maybe you shouldn’t go to church.’ But there are other times when he’ll tell me to hurry up because he doesn’t want me to be late for church.
“My parents have high expectations of me. My father thinks I can have a great impact on our family by continuing my education and doing well,” Angel adds. Angel is also quick to point out she can have a great impact on her family by staying active in the Church too.
“In Taiwan, parents who are members of the Church set examples for their children,” says Kent Liang, a former regional representative and stake president. “They go to church and perform their callings, and the children are able to see this. But some kids whose parents aren’t members are often tempted to rest and not go to church on Sundays. And the school competition is so high that school is sometimes all they see. They think, Should I go to church or go to the library? Sometimes they don’t worry that much about church things because they don’t see that far into the future. Right now, many of the kids in Taiwan are only worried about school.”
And that’s what’s so amazing about Angel. School is important. But it’s not the only thing in her life. She graduated near the top of her high school class, yet she doubts she could have done it had she not had the gospel’s guiding influence in her life.
“The Church was especially helpful to me during my senior year of high school. I noticed a lot of my schoolmates were easily depressed because of school,” she says. “But I knew if I did my best, Heavenly Father would help me. Usually, my grades were better than I expected.”
Today, college life keeps Angel incredibly busy as she studies to become a doctor. As Angel returns home from a full day, she still takes time to read from the scriptures. When she closes her triple combination, it’s 10:30 P.M. Angel’s day is over—finally. She can close her eyes knowing she’s doing well in school, and, more importantly, she’s finding time to include the gospel in her busy life. In less than eight hours, her day will begin all over again. Angel will undoubtedly enjoy a very sound sleep.

One day at work, I had to leave for a few hours to take care of some important errands for my mother. I went to the office in the morning and told a colleague that I would be absent in the afternoon. During a break she whispered to me, “I can help you with the time clock.”
“No, thanks,” I said.
As I left the office to catch the bus, my friend followed me to the time clock. She said quietly, “Why don’t you clock in for the afternoon period, and then I’ll punch your time card when I go home?”
Before I could utter a word, she added, “Look, our salary is below minimum wage, so it would be OK to do this. It’s just a small amount. Besides, we are not the only ones who do it.”
I began to consider what she had said. She had some good points, and I knew she had good intentions. But this was not what I had been taught in the Church.
Gathering all my strength and resolve, I told her softly, “My friend, the Lord is good, and if He blesses us, we can receive from Him more than that amount.”
She left and was somewhat annoyed with me for rejecting her offer. While I walked to the bus stop, I worried about how small my paycheck would be. I knew we would have to forego buying some food the following month.
As I walked, I remembered the words of one of the hymns: “Be honest in your heart; and God will love and bless you and help to you impart.”1 A phrase from another hymn came to my mind: “Choose the right! And God will bless you evermore.”2
These lines strengthened my decision not to give in to temptation but to trust in the Lord’s promises.
Three years have passed since that incident, and I now have a new job. The Lord has definitely blessed me. It took time, but the promise of the hymns indeed came true, and I can feel that many blessings will continue to come to me as I continue to choose the right. I am grateful for the hymns, which give me courage to hold on to that which is right in the sight of God.

In December 1980, President Spencer W. Kimball sent the director of the Church’s real estate department to Manila to find an appropriate site for a temple. After considering several sites, the director submitted a request to buy 3.5 acres (1.4 ha) in Quezon City. The site overlooks the Marikina Valley, and its location is relatively accessible to many Church members. The request was approved, and the property was purchased in January 1981. The street name was changed to Temple Drive at the request of the Church.

For the groundbreaking ceremony on August 25, 1982, despite the threat of a typhoon, about 2,000 Church members gathered from all parts of the islands by boat, train, and bus. Construction of the temple soon commenced, and it was ready to be dedicated in August 1984.

Nearly 27,000 members and nonmembers toured the temple before its dedication. They came despite two typhoons—just 48 hours apart—that had ripped through the Philippines a few days before. Saints from distant provinces arrived weary but buoyant. In many cases they had been forced to take circuitous routes to Manila because roads had been flooded and bridges damaged by overflowing rivers.

The beauty of the temple impressed the visitors, including many prominent Filipinos. Writer Celso Carunungan commented on “a feeling of holiness, that when you get inside you are going to confront your Creator.” Colonel Bienvenido Castillo, chief chaplain of the Philippine Constabulary, said the temple is “a place where you can contemplate heavenly things because you are in such an environment.” Two nuns felt the temple “is truly a house of the Lord.” Eva Estrada-Kalaw, a member of the Philippine parliament, told guides, “I wish you would build more temples here.”6

President Hinckley, Second Counselor in the First Presidency at the time, led the services to lay the cornerstone on Tuesday, September 25, 1984. Nine dedicatory sessions followed, held in the celestial room. Some 6,500 Saints from 16 stakes and 22 districts in the Pacific Area attended the various sessions.

As soon as the last dedicatory session was completed, Paulo V. Malit Jr. and Edna A. Yasona became the first couple to be married in the Manila Philippines Temple, on September 27, 1984. The first president of that temple, W. Garth Andrus, solemnized the marriage ceremony.

Scores of Church members queued up to receive their endowments, beginning with the ordinance workers. Temple work continued through the night into the next day.

Members felt an increased desire to enter the temple. Those who lived far from Manila had to sacrifice much to travel the great distance by boat or bus. But still they came and brought with them stories of faith and determination.

For Bernardo and Leonides Obedoza of General Santos, going to the temple in faraway Manila seemed impossible. But like the merchant man who went and sold all he had to buy one pearl of great price (see Matthew 13:45–46), this couple decided to sell their house to pay for the trip so that they and their children could be sealed as an eternal family. After they sold their home and most of their possessions, they managed to scrape together the exact amount to pay the boat fare to Manila for their family of nine. Leonides was worried because they would have no home to return to. But Bernardo assured her that the Lord would provide. They were sealed as a family for time and all eternity in the temple in 1985. It was worth every sacrifice they had made, for in the temple they found joy incomparable—their priceless pearl. And true to Bernardo’s words, the Lord did provide. On their return from Manila, kind acquaintances gave them places to stay. Their children completed their schooling, and the family eventually acquired their own home in a new location.