Gospel Story Finder

I was 20 years old and had spent most of my life as a member of my parents’ church. But for three years I had not gone to church because I was considering other religious and moral philosophies—although none of them felt right to me.
One day when I arrived at my parents’ house, my brother and my best friend were there. They said some young women had come to visit and had left a book with my brother. My brother had asked my best friend to be at the house when they came back. He wanted him to be the one to tell them not to come anymore.
But when the missionaries returned, my friend said, “Come back in three days because I want to hear the discussions.”
My brother was furious. I asked my friend what he had been thinking, and he just said, “Well, they are very beautiful, and they have a nice way of talking about Jesus Christ.”
“Well, I will get rid of them,” I replied arrogantly.
Two weeks went by without my being able to do so. They were now visiting my brother and my sister and many of my friends. They were surrounding me on all sides, and I didn’t even know who was responsible for what felt like an ambush.
The following week, my brother told me that two of my friends had already been baptized and that another was going to be baptized that Sunday. I agreed to go to church on Sunday just to see my friend’s baptism. “But this is crazy,” I said to myself.
That Sunday I finally met the two missionaries who had been giving me so many headaches. At the end of the baptismal service they came up to me, gave me a Book of Mormon, and invited me to hear the first discussion. On the inside I was resisting and shouting, “No!” But on the outside I was crying, and I said, “Yes,” to all their invitations.
A week later, there I was watching another of my friends be baptized. And on the following Sunday, my best friend and I also entered the waters of baptism.
Almost a month went by. I felt a need not just to believe, but to know for sure that these things were true. One Sunday morning I decided not to go to church but to go somewhere else and pray. I headed toward a hill about six miles (9 km) from the city. When I got there I found a place off the beaten path where I could be at peace. After almost an hour of reading the Book of Mormon, pondering, praying for an answer, and intending to stay there until I received one, something strange started happening. I felt a desire to go to church. My heart was beating rapidly. That was my answer.
Almost in spite of myself, I got on my bicycle, returned to the city, and got to the meetinghouse as quickly as I could. To my great surprise, the meetings were just starting.
Ever since then I have known that this is the true gospel of Jesus Christ and that this is His Church. It’s a message I shared as a full-time missionary, trying to be the same kind of missionary as those sisters I couldn’t get rid of.

“It’s time for family prayer!” Dad calls. Arturo puts away his crayons. He kneels with his family. “What are some things you need help with?” Dad asks. “I’m scared to start school soon,” says Sophia. “I don’t feel very good,” says Mom with a sniffle. “I’m trying to be brave when my room is dark at night,” Arturo says. “I will ask Heavenly Father to help you with all those things,” Dad says. Mom, Dad, Arturo, and Sophia bow their heads. Arturo is happy he can pray with his family.

When our son Marco was three years old, he and I suffered a serious bout of food poisoning. Marco became so sick that he fell unconscious. My wife, Marianela, and I rushed him to the hospital. By the time we arrived, he looked like he was dead. Finally, after about four hours, he regained consciousness.
From then on, Marco suffered seizures off and on for the next five years. When we took him to bed each evening, we wondered if in the middle of the night, we would again have to rush him to the hospital. We had a difficult time sleeping during those stressful years, and we relied on prayer, faith, fasting, and priesthood blessings.
When Marco was about six, Marianela called me at work and told me to hurry to the hospital. Marco had suffered a serious seizure and was in a coma. When she called, I was working on the renovation of the Argentina Missionary Training Center, located adjacent to the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple.
Before I left for the hospital, a friend and fellow worker said, “Since we’re so close to the house of the Lord, why don’t we pray together first?” The temple was closed for renovation and expansion, but we approached the Lord’s house, where I prayed for Marco.
Despite everything we had gone through with Marco, I felt gratitude to God for the time Marianela and I had been able to share with him. As I prayed, I told Heavenly Father that we had tried to be good parents and had taken care of Marco the best we could. I also told Him that we would accept His will if He called Marco home.
When I arrived at the hospital, I didn’t know if Marco would survive the coma or, if he came out of it, whether he would be able to walk or talk again. After a grueling two hours, he awoke. He was exhausted, but he was all right. From then on, miraculously, he improved. Eventually, Marco was weaned off his medication and released for good from the hospital.
Marianela and I look back on that difficult time grateful that we still have Marco and grateful for the things we learned. Our trial united us and made us stronger spiritually. Without it, we might not have learned to recognize the many ways the Lord shows His hand in our lives.
As Marianela says, “We saw a mountain of evidence and experiences that have given us a testimony of the presence of God, that He is with us and that He listens to us. If we endure and have patience, blessings can come when we least expect them.”

Illustrations by Matt Sweeney
Are you going to send something to the Friend for the Kindness Garden? I saw you taking Mrs. Craig’s trash out for her again.
Hmm. Maybe I will. What about you?
You’ve been helping that new girl at school catch up on her assignments.
Oh! Yeah.
Let’s both do it.
OK! Something you find in a garden, right?
I’ll find the colored paper.
I’ll get crayons and markers.
LATER—
I did a rose. I love roses. And you did … a potato?
It was supposed to be a gopher, but he forgot to make the legs!

Sometimes important choices are quite simple. As young missionaries serving in England, my companion and I had the opportunity to go to the temple. As we crossed the temple grounds, the temple president, Selvoy J. Boyer, walked toward us. Seeing our missionary badges, he pointed at us and asked, “Matthew 5:48—do you know that scripture?” My companion stated, “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.” President Boyer said, “That is correct. Elders, are you living that commandment?”

We started to stammer; we knew we were not perfect! He helped us. He asked questions about what we had done for the past three days. He asked about when we went to bed, when we got up, whether we had individual and companion scripture study, and whether we went proselyting on time. Then he said, “I am sure you are not perfect, but you have made perfect choices for the past three days, and that means you are moving in the right direction.” He left us thinking about the importance of what he had asked.

When my wife and I were young parents with little children at home, we challenged our children to memorize the Articles of Faith. The prize, or reward, for completing them was a night out with Dad. We were pleased that our three oldest completed the challenge. When our seven-year-old son first memorized all 13 Articles of Faith, we sat down to pick out a night and activity that we could do together. I was so busy with work, social activities, and Church responsibilities that I couldn’t give my son a night out for about two weeks. He was sorely disappointed. However, I found that in the city where we lived there was an all-night bowling alley. We immediately picked a date and chose to start our activity at 5:00 in the morning. Our plan was to get up at 4:00, have breakfast, and then go downtown.
When that day arrived, I felt someone shaking my shoulder very early in the morning. As I tried to open my eyes I heard my son say, “Is it time, Dad?” I looked at my alarm clock; it was only 2:00 a.m.!
“Go to sleep, Son,” I said. “It’s not time yet.”
An hour later the same thing happened. “Dad, Dad, is it time to go?” After sending him to bed for a second time, I couldn’t help but feel his excitement.
Then at 4:00 a.m. we got up, had something to eat, and left for the bowling alley. We had a wonderful time.
I wish I could say I had regular and memorable activities like that with all my children, but I can’t. I’m one of those parents who ofttimes wishes he could go back and do some things over.

Listen to the words of three young women as each had experiences that provided a chance to exercise her faith.

[A video segment was shown in which several young women spoke of events and challenges in their own lives and the effect of those things on their faith.]

The second young woman, Carly, experienced difficult family circumstances through a change in her father’s employment and a move to another state. She learned the value of family relationships and being together. Through united faith and prayers, she experienced the blessing of feeling our Heavenly Father’s love and support in bringing their family back together. Her faith was strengthened.

Two ministers of one of the largest and most powerful Protestant denominations came to a Latter-day Saint conference to hear me preach.
After the meeting I had a private conversation with them, in which I said they could each gain a testimony that Joseph Smith was the prophet through whom the Lord had restored the fulness of the gospel for our day and for our time.
I told them they should read the Book of Mormon, ponder its great and eternal truths, and pray to the Father in the name of Christ, in faith, and he would reveal the truth of the book to them by the power of the Holy Ghost.
All of this I explained to my two Protestant friends. One of them, a congenial and decent sort of fellow, said somewhat casually that he would read the Book of Mormon. The other minister, manifesting a bitter spirit, said: “I won’t read it. We have experts who have read the Book of Mormon, and I have read what our experts have to say about it.”
This account dramatizes one of our problems in presenting the message of the Book of Mormon to the world. There are sincere and devout people everywhere who have heard what other people say about this volume of holy writ, and so they do not read it themselves.

When our twin sons were about five years old, they were just learning to ride their bicycles. As I glanced out the window, I saw them speeding down the sidewalk on their bikes. They were going a little too fast, and all of a sudden Adam had a terrible crash! He was tangled in the wreck, and all I could see was twisted handlebars and tires and arms and legs. His twin, Aaron, saw the whole thing happen, and immediately he skidded to a stop and jumped off his bike. He threw it down and ran to help Adam, whom he loved very much.
These little twins truly were of one heart, so it was painful for Aaron to see Adam crash! Adam had skinned knees, he was bleeding from a head wound, his pride was damaged, and he was crying.
In a fairly gentle, five-year-old way, Aaron helped his brother get untangled from the crash. Aaron checked out Adam’s wounds, and then he did the dearest thing—he picked his brother up and carried him home! Or he tried to. It was not easy because they were the same size, but he tried. He struggled and lifted and half-dragged, half-carried his brother along until they finally reached the front porch. By this time, Adam, the injured one, was no longer crying, but Aaron, the rescuer, was. When asked, “Why are you crying, Aaron?” he said, “Because Adam hurts.”

The only light came from the glowing numbers of the digital clock. It was very late, and I was lying curled up in bed longing for sleep. I tried desperately to clear my mind. But there was too much to forget, too many memories swirling around in my brain, haunting me.
My conversation with a friend that day had stirred it all up. We had started talking about how much I would miss her when she moved away to school in a few months. We had grown up together in England, and now we would be apart for the first time. We progressed to old memories and then on to arguments we’d had. At first it was just funny, but then we got a little more serious as she told me things other people had said about me years ago. She didn’t think it would bother me. After all, we were all friends now. I had had such a difficult time finding friends back then. Finding out that even my best friends hadn’t liked me, had said things behind my back, affected me in a way I didn’t think it could. Feelings of loneliness rushed back into my memory.
I felt ridiculous. Why should I cry now? But I did. All alone in the dark, tears slipped down my cheeks and soaked my pillow as memory after memory of rejection replayed in my mind.
Abandoning hopes for sleep, I slipped from my bed, tiptoed to the bathroom, and turned on the light. I sat down and buried my face in my hands, sobbing as quietly as I could. I began to pray silently: “Please Heavenly Father, what do I have to do? Can’t the pain be taken away? Please, please take the pain away.” I repeated my plea over and over in my mind.
It happened in an instant. The answer came like a flood of light into my mind. The words were from a talk I’d heard months before, but the meaning had only just sunk in. The scriptures say that Christ would “take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people” (Alma 7:11). The Atonement is not just for sinners! He did not just suffer for my sins, He suffered everything I have suffered or ever will suffer! He knows what I’m going through, and by casting my cares upon Him, I don’t have to suffer old pains. I only needed to have faith.

In another service project titled “Light the world by helping one person help another”, missionaries identified an area in the George metropolitan area that needed upliftment.

“We identified a local neighbourhood park that was in bad need of upgrading, interviewed patrons of the park and a neighbourhood volunteer who helped clean the park,” Elder Miller said.

“We then kept track of what facilities were being used and what was in need of repair. We contacted and met with local government officials and presented a comprehensive plan to them and demonstrated our willingness as a Church to help fund the initial upgrade needs to get the project rolling. They approved our initial proposal and we ordered some facility upgrades.” the Millers said.

After graduation I headed off to Brigham Young University. While there, I kept pondering a part of my patriarchal blessing that mentions sharing the gospel. In the past, I’d always thought, “There’s no way I can ever serve a full-time mission. It’s too risky with CF!” In addition to the health risks, I was afraid my daily treatment routine wouldn’t fit with a typical missionary schedule.
Still, the thought wouldn’t go away. Could I actually serve a mission?
As I pondered and prayed, I kept thinking about my favorite scripture. In Mosiah 2:20–21, King Benjamin taught how the Lord had “kept and preserved” His people, “lending [them] breath” each day. These scriptures helped me see how the Lord had “kept and preserved” me.
Though I was still a bit scared, I knew it was God’s will for me to serve. I received a doctor’s clearance, submitted my papers, and was called to serve a mission. I believed the scripture that teaches that God is “supporting [me] from one moment to another” (Mosiah 2:21). As I served my mission in Boston, Massachusetts, that promise was definitely fulfilled.
My mission days were a treasure. One of the greatest blessings was developing a deeper relationship with Heavenly Father and with Jesus Christ. Part of that closeness meant achieving a better understanding of Their will concerning me, including the importance of safeguarding my health.
As a missionary, you’re focused on serving others. Yet I knew that to stay on my mission, I had to remain healthy. I decided to never miss a lung treatment. I would exercise every morning. And I would maintain good eating habits.
As a result, I was better able to be His instrument and serve others. It was a valuable lesson to know I can still serve, even with my illness. I’ve learned that what you can do, despite any limitations you have, is much better to focus on than what you can’t do.

One day I was playing with the sons of my boss. They were nine and seven years old. They said, “You know that our father is the branch president in our Church.” They explained what a branch president is and, without thinking, I said, “Your father will not go to heaven.” I realized I had made a big mistake, and I thought desperately about what I could say to them to make them forget my comment. At the end of the day, when they saw their father, they ran to him and repeated what I had said. I thought I would lose my job.
My boss had earlier shown me a jacket from when he had been in the military that showed he had killed. That’s why I had said what I did. In a very calm way, he asked me why I said that. I said, “Boss, remember, you told me that you killed in the war. In the Bible it says, ‘Thou shalt not kill.’”
He asked me which church I attended. I told him that I used to attend the Catholic Church but hadn’t gone for seven years. He shared experiences in the Old Testament about wars and hostilities, and then he gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon. I was so excited that I didn’t lose my job.

Brother Michael Kagle took a convoy of trucks loaded with equipment from his own company to Mississippi. Many employees, who are not of our faith, volunteered to go with him every weekend to give assistance in the storm-stricken areas. Walkie-talkies were used for communication along the way. Mike’s high priests group leader, while driving along with them in his pickup truck, said he had white knuckles from driving so fast. Trying to slow the convoy down, he got on the walkie-talkie and said, “Gentlemen, do you realize we are going 80 miles per hour?” One of the truck drivers came on and said, “Well, you have to understand that’s all these big trucks will do. We can’t go any faster.” Hundreds of letters of gratitude have been received. One woman, a nurse from Mississippi, wrote: “I was speechless. Had God answered my prayers so quickly? Tears immediately began to roll down my cheeks as men in hard hats and boots, with chain saws of all shapes and sizes, appeared out of the debris. It was absolutely, unequivocally, one of the most supreme sacrifices that has ever happened to me personally.”

Through all these difficult experiences, I kept praying, and I could feel the comfort I was promised by the Spirit in a priesthood blessing I had received. One day I dared to ask the question, in prayer, “Why do I feel so alone?” And I received an answer or, rather, a promise—that I would make new friends, friends who would understand me.
And I did! I made new friends, some who aren’t members of the Church but who still respect and love me. I also made friends in the Church who have become like family to me.

After moving to Nauvoo, Illinois, Joseph and Emma Smith built the Red Brick Store. It served as Joseph’s office and as a business to support his family.
I’ll take 20 pounds of flour, Emma.
Do you need anything else?
James had recently moved from England to Nauvoo with his sister and her husband, Henry. James was not a member of the Church.
We’ve searched for work all day, Henry. I don’t think we’re going to find anything.
Let’s ask the Prophet for help.
James had never met Joseph Smith or been near him before. He felt an overwhelming spirit just by looking at him.
He is truly a prophet of the Most High God.
Brethren, how can I help you today?
Mr. Smith, have you any employment?
Can you make a ditch?
We’ll do our best.
Joseph took the men a little way from the store and stretched out a measuring tape.
Can you make a ditch three feet wide and two and a half feet deep along this line?
When they finished the ditch, they called Joseph out to inspect it.
I could not have done better myself. Come with me.
Joseph gave the men two of his largest and best pieces of meat and two sacks of flour.
This is too much, Joseph.
We’ll do more work for it.
If you are satisfied, boys, I am.
Because of this encounter with the Prophet’s kindness and because of other experiences in which he felt Joseph’s power from God, James learned the gospel and was baptized and confirmed later that year.

On the 17th of December 1996, we were able to go to the Johannesburg South Africa Temple. I felt excited, especially when I heard that our first child, a baby boy who died after just a few short days, was going to be sealed to us. I thought he was dead and gone, even though I knew he was innocent. But then for him to be sealed to us was a spiritual experience I’ll never forget.
So when people ask me how many children we have, I tell them we have eight children. They ask, “How?” I say, “Yes, the first one is waiting for us, so it’s up to us to obey the commandments of God and live them so that we can go back and be together as a family.”

My awakening to these unique verses played an important role in my first assignment as an Area Seventy. I was a bit nervous being the companion of an Apostle, Elder Quentin L. Cook, at a stake conference. As I walked into the stake president’s office for the initial meeting that weekend, I noticed a pair of tattered-looking, bronzed shoes on the credenza behind his desk, accompanied by a scripture ending in an exclamation point. As I read it, I felt the Lord was aware of my study, had answered my prayers, and that He knew exactly what I needed to soothe my anxious heart.
I asked the stake president to tell me the story of the shoes.
He said:
“These are shoes of a young convert to the Church whose family situation was strained, yet he was determined to serve a successful mission and did so in Guatemala. Upon his return I met with him to extend an honorable release and saw his shoes were worn out. This young man had given his all to the Lord without much, if any, family support.
“He noticed I was staring at his shoes and asked me, ‘President, is anything wrong?’
“I responded, ‘No, Elder, everything is right! Can I have those shoes?’”
The stake president continued: “My respect and love for this returning missionary was overwhelming! I wanted to memorialize the experience, so I had his shoes bronzed. It is a reminder to me when I walk into this office of the effort we all must give regardless of our circumstances. The verse was from Isaiah: ‘How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth!’ (Isaiah 52:7).”

Sister Heaston shared an experience from when she served at a Young Women camp. She said:
“One of our … devotional speakers … taught us about ‘becoming.’ One of her statements … was, ‘Be someone who reaches out to know and serve others—throw away the mirrors and look through the window.’
“To demonstrate this, she called up one of the young women and asked that young woman to stand facing her. [She] then pulled out a mirror and put it between the young woman and herself so that she, [the speaker], was looking into the mirror while she tried to talk with the young woman. Not surprisingly, it didn’t even begin to be an effective or heartfelt conversation. This was a powerful object lesson that illustrated how difficult it is to communicate with and serve others if we are too worried about ourselves and see only ourselves and our needs. [She] then put away the mirror, pulled out a window frame, and put it between her face and the young woman’s face. … We were able to see that the young woman had become [her] focal point and that true service requires that we focus on the needs and emotions of others. Ofttimes we are so worried about ourselves and our own busy lives—as we look in mirrors while trying to look for opportunities to serve—that we do not see clearly through the windows of service.”

I learned about performing and persevering on my mission. I served in a little dusty village, Quiriza, Bolivia, near the Argentine border. We traveled by horseback in those mountain villages of Bolivia and lived at a high altitude in dusty, dirty conditions. I felt at times like Ammon and the sons of Mosiah when the Lord told them, “Be patient in long-suffering and afflictions, that ye may show forth good examples unto them in me, and I will make an instrument of thee in my hands unto the salvation of many souls” (Alma 17:11).
My assignment from the mission president was to help build a chapel. It was a wonderful experience building that chapel, using adobe bricks, and bringing lumber, metal decking, and other building materials over a 20-mile, steep mountain pass. It required the same level of pondering, praying, performing, and persevering as we built the Quiriza chapel. I found that it was a labor of love, and because of that love gained by serving those people, it was far more difficult for me to leave Bolivia than it had been to leave home to serve my mission.