Gospel Story Finder

Illustration by Ben Simonsen
I grew up in the Church. My family and I went to church every Sunday, and when I turned 12, I started going to Mutual every week. Even though I was active in the Church, I still relied mostly on my family’s testimonies. I liked going to the activities, but I mostly went out of habit. Sometimes I wondered why I went at all.
One Mutual activity very clearly answered that question. We went to a local food bank and started by sorting through giant bins of food that had been donated. After a little while we divided up into groups to deliver food to different families in need.
We all chatted as we drove from one place to another. The families had big smiles on their faces when we gave them the food. At one point we all got out of the car to deliver the food together. The air was crisp as we walked toward the building. We crowded into a small staircase of a rundown apartment building.
We knocked on the door and waited for a bit, shivering, until the door opened just a crack. I could see a woman’s eyes peeking out. Someone in our group said a few words but stopped when the woman almost closed the door. We stepped forward with a box of food. She told us to wait and closed the door. The other girls and I stared at each other, wondering what was happening.
We waited for what seemed like forever. Finally, a man came to the door, the little woman right behind him with a baby wrapped in a big blanket in her arms. Tears of gratitude were in her eyes as we gave the food to her husband. Warmth started in my heart and filled my entire body, and I started to cry. I looked at the little family, and I didn’t know what was happening. I’d never felt anything like it.
Walking away from that humble apartment, my heart still felt so full. The snow on the ground looked more beautiful than before. I was more grateful for my family. I felt like I was going to burst with love.
When we got back in the car, I was quiet, thinking about how I didn’t even know those people, but I was so happy and full of love. I sat there bewildered until it hit me like a stampede—it was the Spirit giving me that warmth and love. The words of King Benjamin came to my mind: “And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17).
My mouth nearly dropped open with the realization of how much God loves His children. He had just allowed me to feel a little bit of that love. He is aware of His children’s needs. He has a plan for us. It is a plan that I’d learned about since I was a little girl. It means that He loves me! In that moment the Spirit burned within me. I knew that I was supposed to be at Mutual that night so that I could learn that lesson of God’s love. And I didn’t have to rely on anyone else for that testimony.

Almost two decades ago, the Madrid Spain Temple was dedicated and began its service as a sacred house of the Lord. Harriet and I remember it well because I was serving in the Europe Area Presidency at the time. Along with many others, we spent countless hours attending to the details of planning and organizing the events leading up to the dedication.
As the date of the dedication approached, I noticed that I had not yet received an invitation to attend. This was a bit unexpected. After all, in my responsibility as the Area President, I had been greatly involved in this temple project and felt a small amount of ownership for it.
I asked Harriet if she had seen an invitation. She had not.
Days passed and my anxiety increased. I wondered if our invitation had gotten lost—perhaps it was buried between the cushions of our sofa. Maybe it had been mixed up with junk mail and thrown away. The neighbors had an inquisitive cat, and I even began to look suspiciously at him.
Finally I was forced to accept the fact: I had not been invited.
But how was that possible? Had I done something to offend? Did someone just assume it was too far for us to travel? Had I been forgotten?
Eventually, I realized that this line of thinking led to a place in which I did not wish to take up residence.
Harriet and I reminded ourselves that the temple dedication was not about us. It wasn’t about who deserved to be invited or who did not. And it wasn’t about our feelings or our sense of entitlement.
It was about dedicating a holy edifice, a temple of the Most High God. It was a day of rejoicing for the members of the Church in Spain.
Had I been invited to attend, I would have done so gladly. But if I were not invited, my joy would not be any less profound. Harriet and I would rejoice with our friends, our beloved brothers and sisters, from afar. We would praise God for this wonderful blessing just as enthusiastically from our home in Frankfurt as we would from Madrid.

1. One day Tanner got a picture of Jesus. He loved the picture. He wanted to share it with somebody. He knew that not everybody knows about Jesus.
2. “Mom, can I give my picture of Jesus to somebody?” Tanner asked.
“Sure,” Mom said. “Who will you give it to?”
“I’m going to give it to my teacher, Mrs. Young. I like her because she reads me lots of stories.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mom said. “I’m proud of you.”
3. When Tanner got to preschool, he gave the picture to Mrs. Young. She was happy to get a picture of Jesus. Tanner was happy she liked it.
4. A few days later, Tanner and his family made a book that looked like the Book of Mormon golden plates. Then they wrote their testimonies in the book.
“Mom, can I take our book to school to show Mrs. Young?” Tanner asked.
“Yes, you can,” Mom said.
5. The next day at school, Tanner carried a backpack with his family’s golden plates inside. He told Mrs. Young about the book his family had made. Tanner’s teacher was very interested.
6. When Mom picked up Tanner from school that day, his teacher went to talk to Tanner’s mother.
“Tanner brought something very interesting today,” Mrs. Young said. “Can you tell me more?”
“How would you and your husband like to come to dinner at our house?” Mom asked. “We can talk more then.”
“That sounds great,” Mrs. Young said.
7. A few months later, Tanner and his mother went to Mr. and Mrs. Youngs’ baptism.
“I’m very happy I shared my picture of Jesus with my teacher,” Tanner said.
“I know that she is too,” Mom said. “You are a big reason why Mrs. Young and her husband are being baptized today.”
8. Tanner had a happy feeling as he watched Mrs. Young be baptized. He smiled as Mom leaned over and whispered, “Four-year-olds are great missionaries!”

Seth squirmed in his chair. He could hardly wait to hear what Grandma and Grandpa had to say. When everyone was quiet, Grandpa began. “For a long time, Grandma and I have prayed about serving a mission. We want to do what the prophet has asked, so we turned in our mission papers. The Lord has called us to serve a mission in Puerto Rico.”
Everyone was happy and excited for Grandma and Grandpa. Everyone except Seth. He felt sad and lonely. “It’s almost like everyone wants them to go away,” Seth thought. He went to his room, curled up on his bed, and cried.
Mom found him there. “Seth, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t believe that Grandma and Grandpa are leaving us. What about when my new baby sister is born? She won’t know who they are. And what about me? Don’t they care about me?”
“Seth, Grandma and Grandpa love you very much,” Mom said. “That’s one of the reasons they’re going to serve—to set a good example for you and for all of us.”
Seth didn’t understand. He had never felt more miserable.
The next morning, Grandma’s soft voice woke Seth up. “I thought maybe you and I could have breakfast together,” she said.
Seth sprang out of bed. Maybe Grandma and Grandpa had changed their minds!
After Grandma and Seth finished their waffles, she told him a story. “When Grandpa and I started thinking about going on a mission, I was concerned about you. I prayed that Heavenly Father would help you to understand our feelings. Then at general conference, Elder Robert D. Hales said if we serve a mission, our families will be blessed.
“Grandpa and I want those blessings for you, Seth. We also want to show you that it’s important to follow the prophet. We want you to share this special time with us and be happy.”
Seth knew that Grandma was right. “I am happy for you, Grandma. I just didn’t know that following the prophet meant I’d lose you.”
“You will never lose me, Seth,” Grandma said. “We are an eternal family. But we are asking you to share us with people in Puerto Rico who need us. The time will pass quickly. We’ll write letters and send you stamps for your collection. And when we get back, I’ll be an even better grandma!”
On Sunday, Seth’s Primary sang “Follow the Prophet.” It seemed like a whole new song to Seth. Now he knew that sharing Grandma and Grandpa was one way he could follow the prophet too.

I sat in an unfamiliar chapel on Sunday while visiting another ward with my dad. What wasn’t unfamiliar, however, was my grumpy 9:00 A.M. attitude. Sacrament meeting began, and the organist played the introduction to the opening hymn. I leafed through the hymnbook pages and found the right hymn about halfway through the first verse.
Rather than using the little energy I had on singing, I began listening to others around me. Right in front of me was a woman that I noticed because her rusty, scratchy, off-tune voice could be heard over the clear voices of the congregation. Not only did she sound terrible, but she sang as loudly as she possibly could. Embarrassed for her, I looked around me to see if anyone else had noticed. No one else seemed to be bothered by her, and so I turned my attention back to my hymnbook and tried to ignore the unpleasant sound.
I found it was impossible to ignore her, however, and I became more and more irritated. “Somebody should just tell her to stop singing,” I thought to myself. “How is the Spirit supposed to be here with that kind of racket going on.” I again tried to focus on the words that were on the page in front of me and began singing, hoping I could drown her out.
“Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to thee, How great thou art! …” The power and depth of these words suddenly struck me, and I began to feel incredibly guilty as I realized that this woman had more right than I did to be singing this song. I’m sure she could tell that her voice didn’t blend with the congregation. Yet instead of letting that stop her, she was determined to sing her praises to Heavenly Father. The meaning of the words were more important to her than what she sounded like. Rather than keeping the Spirit away, she was actually bringing a spirit into the meeting for those who had the right attitude and could recognize it.
Hymns have a completely different meaning for me now. Whenever I hear unpleasant sounds from a singer somewhere in the congregation, I pay special attention to the words and realize that I shouldn’t be singing hymns just because it’s what I’m expected to do, but that I should be trying to show my Heavenly Father my respect and gratitude towards him.

The night was chilly, the clocks had gone back and the last thing I felt like doing was turning up to fill a duty slot at the FamilySearch Centre. The day had already been packed with ‘busy stuff’, and I was convinced that no one would turn up anyway.
It was youth activity night and—as expected—the usual sight of an empty FamilySearch Centre greeted me on arrival. Wanting to be proactive, I wandered over to the foyer, where two mums were happily chatting while waiting for their children. Their younger ones were off playing somewhere in the building. I asked if they’d like to come into the FamilySearch Centre and carry on their conversation there. Both wrinkled their noses and shook their heads. I told them they could still chat while getting involved. Feeling a bit sorry for me, one of the mums reluctantly said she’d give me half an hour. The other mum took a bit more convincing. She let me know, in no uncertain terms, that she was setting her alarm for 30 minutes—no longer—as she tapped away on her phone. I chuckled and said she might be surprised and end up staying longer, but I was happy with the time they’d both offered.
I showed one of the mums how to check names that the computer had completed. Once she realised she could do it independently, there was no stopping her. Very quickly, she’d checked sixty names. She kept going, ignoring the alarm when it went off and then asked about her family tree. We moved over to work on her tree using FamilySearch, taking breaks for phone calls to relatives to confirm names and dates. Before long, her tree was filling up with ancestors that others had already researched—and her 30 minutes turned into 90! She told me how much she’d enjoyed herself and how satisfying it was to have accomplished something so meaningful.
Meanwhile, the other mum’s younger children wandered in—probably hoping to play with the nursery toys, as the FamilySearch Centre doubles as the nursery. They grew curious about what was going on and wanted to help check the names too. Together, they cheerfully decided whether names ‘matched’, needed ‘editing’ or were ‘unsure’.
The Spirit of Elijah was tangible in the room during those 90 minutes. On my way home, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for all that had happened and thanked those two sisters for their attendance and willingness to help gather Israel. I even managed to get a photo of them and shared it on our ward Facebook page, explaining how a simple offer to help for 30 minutes had turned into an hour and a half of joyful service.

“I thought the church I used to belong to was the only church around,” says David Falentino Benod. “But I wasn’t really satisfied with it. At school, when the rest of the class went to chapel, I used to hide in the bathroom. I’d seen the missionaries in the streets before, and one day my father invited them in to teach us. On Sunday we went to church and then to a baptism, and we felt wonderful. We set a date right there for the baptism of our family of nine.
Of course, joining the Church is not always an easy step. Many times it means leaving old friends behind, and often parents and brothers and sisters don’t understand. “The hardest thing to do,” says Llissel Ventura, “is to explain to our friends why we follow the Word of Wisdom. Many here smoke and drink and take drugs. They often tease us. But I just drink my jugo de china (orange juice), and I’m fine.”
Luis Espinal has found an interesting solution to this kind of peer pressure. “I know people who have vices and they would really like to get over them, but they don’t think they have anyone to help them. I try to be a good friend to them, and I bring them all to church. Some leave, but some continue coming, and some become members.”
All over the Dominican Republic you’ll find teens with this longing to reach out to others. In fact, when asked what they wanted the rest of the world’s youth to know about them, the Dominican teens replied:
“Tell them we love them. We want to meet them someday. We may not be very elegant, but we’re very nice and always happy.”
“Tell them we’re all a team.”
“Tell them we think it’s “bien chevere” (really cool) to be members of this church.”
“Tell them that the Church is very important in our lives. We may be different from them in some ways, but we all have the same goals and dreams.”
“Tell them we know the Church is true and that God loves us all. Christ did a very marvelous thing for us—he paid for our sins. He has given us light, and we’re trying to let our lights shine so those around us can see too.”
The light of the gospel. That’s it. That’s what enables the Dominican seminary students to “see” even when the electricity goes out. That’s what enables them to recognize the truth when it comes knocking on their doors. That’s what makes them so eager to serve missions and help their friends. It’s the light of the gospel that fuels their fires and helps them forge a republic of faith.

Although he was a school teacher, my father raised animals and cared for a large garden and fruit orchard. In the summertime, it was a rule that we worked in the mornings in the garden or orchard; in the afternoons, we could play.
My father had a way of making our work pleasant. He could turn any chore into a game. He knew that we loved to play baseball. One day he told us to pick up fallen apples in the orchard and feed them to the pigs. We didn’t particularly enjoy that job. So he placed boards in the form of a man on the back of the pigpen. Then he stepped off the distance from the board form to a pitcher’s mound. From that point, we threw the gathered apples at the pretended man just as a baseball pitcher would in a game. Of course, the apples crashed against the board and split into pieces, and the pigs had a feast.

Soon afterward Bent returned to Denmark, and we were concerned that he might lose touch with the Church. But he attended church in Denmark, and it happened to be a fast Sunday. He was sitting at the back of the chapel minding his own business when he was asked to bear his testimony, something he had never done before, in either English or Danish. He wished he could disappear, but instead he stood and told how Svend Hansen had challenged him to read the Book of Mormon. As soon as he mentioned Svend’s name, people looked up in surprise. After the meeting Svend’s many friends wanted to know how he was doing.
Suddenly Bent had many new friends, and he felt right at home. He has since worked many years with the youth and served on the high council of the Århus Denmark Stake.

Last year was challenging for me. My dad was battling cancer, and there were terrorist attacks in my city. I struggled with anxiety, wondering how I could feel peace when I feared for my spiritual and physical safety. From conference, I learned that we can find peace as we live virtuously, fill our hearts with faith, and keep an eternal perspective. I was inspired to turn to Christ in times of difficulty instead of depending on my own understanding. I know I can overcome the influences of darkness by seeking the brightness of Christ’s light.
Olivia H., 17, Belgium
About: Swimmer; enjoys service, including volunteering at soup kitchen, foster home, and school’s special education program).

Janie Sigoda stared at the strange hat and bright red notebook on the table. She was still wondering what they were for when her father started the family home evening lesson.
“Did you know,” he asked the family, “that the Nephites kept records but that they didn’t always remember to write all the important things that happened to them?”
Janie forgot about the hat and notebook and raised her hand. “Yes, Dad,” she said, “in Primary Sister Lind said that Jesus asked the Nephites why parts of the story of Samuel the Lamanite hadn’t been recorded.”
“It sounds like you already know the story,” Dad said with a smile. “Can you find it too?”
Janie opened the family copy of the Book of Mormon and searched through Third Nephi. “Here it is!”
Her father began reading while Mom held the baby. Janie and her brother, Chris, sat by Dad in his big chair so that they could read together the Savior’s words about Samuel the Lamanite.
“You see,” he finished, closing the book and looking at each of them, “keeping records is very important to the Savior.”
Janie’s eyes went back to the notebook, and even before her father spoke again, she guessed what he would say.
“Do you all see this red notebook?” Dad held it high, and the baby tried to reach and grab it. “This isn’t just any old notebook,” he went on. “It’s a special reporter’s notebook. We don’t want to miss great stories in our family record either.”
He picked up the funny hat and stuck a card with Family Reporter printed on it into the hatband. “Each month someone gets to be the Sigoda family reporter. Who will be it first—Mom, Chris, me, or Janie?”
“Oh, please let it be me,” Janie begged.
Dad winked at Mom, then smiled at Janie. Pulling her close, he put the hat on her head and handed her the bright red notebook. “Here’s your equipment, Miss Sigoda. Next month you can read your report of our family stories to us.”
The month passed with lots of stories to write. One Sunday they visited Grandma, and Janie made sure that she wore her reporter’s hat and carried her notebook. Grandma always had great stories. “Tell me something about Dad when he was a boy,” Janie asked her privately after dinner.
“Oh, your dad!” Grandma laughed. “I remember the time our bishop asked the congregation to raise their hands if they wanted a new parking lot. Every person there but one raised his hand to vote yes. Then, when the bishop asked if anyone was against the new lot, your dad raised his hand high and called out, ‘I am, bishop. If you put in a parking lot, we won’t have anyplace to play basketball.’ The rest of the congregation laughed for ten minutes!”
That was a good story to report, but the best one Janie wrote was of when Chris was baptized. She worked hard to get all the details exactly right for the family records. She made sure to include the facts that Dad baptized Chris and that both grandfathers were witnesses to the baptism. And she carefully wrote down each word of Chris’s testimony after he was confirmed: “I want to thank Mom and Dad and my sisters for all that they teach me,” he said. “I know that this church is true and that Heavenly Father and Jesus love me.”
The month ended too soon for Janie. She read her stories on family night, wearing her reporter’s hat. She especially liked watching her brother’s big smile when she finished by reading all about his baptism.
“Janie,” Mom said, “Dad and I are proud of you, and I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus are too.” Dad gave her a big hug, then said, “You’re the last person to hold the family record, and like the prophets in the Book of Mormon, you get to pick who keeps the record next. So, who will it be?”
Janie looked first at her mom, then at her dad, then at Chris. She could see his eyes shining just as hers had shone the month before. “Chris,” she said, “I give the record to you.” She handed the hat and precious red notebook to him. As Chris jumped up and down and put the reporter’s hat on, Janie smiled. She knew how he felt—being a family reporter was great.

Illustration by Bradley Clark
I was baptized when I was 15 years old. A lot of people didn’t understand my new faith. Some, including my friends, even made fun of me for my decision to join the Church. My parents weren’t members of the Church, so I didn’t have their support.
As a result, it became difficult for me to continue attending church and to keep living the gospel. By the time I was 19, I had stopped going to church.
Ten years later, I heard that a temple would be built in El Salvador. I was surprised to hear that a house of the Lord would be built in my country! Four years later, the San Salvador El Salvador Temple was completed, and a temple open house was announced. When I found out that the open house would give me the opportunity to enter the temple, I felt as if the Lord was personally inviting me to enter His house.
The day I walked through the temple was one of the best days of my life. During the open house, I learned more about what happens inside dedicated temples. I also learned about sacred temple covenants that individuals make with God.
As I walked through each room of the temple, I felt God’s presence. I felt at peace. Visiting the temple gave me the desire to come back to the Church and to live the gospel again. When I realized I could take part in God’s great work, I wanted to complete temple work for my ancestors and to exercise the priesthood.
My experience in the temple that day changed me. Now I help members in my ward prepare for the temple and assist them with family history so they can do temple work for their ancestors.
It is never too late to return to the Church. It is never too late to do good. The Lord, with His infinite love, is always with us. The temple is a place that unites us with Him and allows us to one day return to live with Him.

My younger brother was in a small Utah city on business. He got a phone call at his hotel from President Spencer W. Kimball. It was late at night after what was a hard day of work for my brother and surely for President Kimball, who began the conversation this way. He said, “I heard that you were in town. I know it’s late and that you may be in bed, but could you help me? I need you as my companion to see the condition of all our chapels in this city.” My brother went with him that night, lacking knowledge of chapel maintenance or anything about chapels and not knowing why President Kimball would be doing such a thing after his long day or why he needed any help.
Years later I received a similar call late at night in a hotel in Japan. I was then the new commissioner of education for the Church. I knew that President Gordon B. Hinckley was staying somewhere in that same hotel on his separate assignment to Japan. I answered the ringing phone just after I had lain down on the bed to sleep, exhausted by having done all I thought I had the strength to do.
President Hinckley asked in his pleasant voice, “Why are you sleeping when I am here reading a manuscript that we have been asked to review?” So I got up and went to work, even though I knew that President Hinckley could give a better review of a manuscript than I could possibly do. But somehow he made me feel that he needed my help.
President Thomas S. Monson, at the end of almost every meeting, asks the secretary to the First Presidency, “Am I up to date on my work?” And he always smiles when the answer comes back: “Oh, yes, President, you are.” President Monson’s pleased smile sends me a message. It makes me think, “Is there something more I could do on my assignments?” And then I go back to my office to work.
Great teachers have shown me how to prepare to keep the oath and covenant when time and age will make it harder. They have shown and taught me how to discipline myself to work harder than I thought I could while I still have health and strength.
I can’t be a perfect servant every hour, but I can try to give more effort than I thought I could. With that habit formed early on, I will be prepared for trials later. You and I can be prepared with the strength to keep our oath and covenant through the tests that will surely come as we approach the end of life.

Sister Anglesey had left her home and her faith 30 years earlier. She had long known something was missing in her life but felt overwhelmed just to walk back into church. She eventually mustered the courage to attend a temple open house. As beautiful as that visit was, Tammy later confided to me, “All I could see was an experience I would never have. No sealing, and no [endowment].” Still, prompted by that visit, she dressed for church one Sunday, only to park her car and watch others walk into the building. Overcome with anxiety, she simply drove home, changed her clothes, and wept alone. An inspired bishop later sent her a note inviting her back to church. I met Tammy on a ministering visit just after her temple endowment. She had been away from the Church for 30 years! She had spent Sundays sitting alone in a church parking lot. But the Lord brought her home and restored her to His light, love, and joy.

Dario Gonzalez of Montevideo, Uruguay, understands that there are priesthood callings—specific assignments or “jobs” that come from the bishop and other priesthood leaders. Dario is 16 and a priest, and his callings include home teaching with his dad and serving as first assistant in his priests quorum.
But Dario also understands that there is one calling every priesthood bearer has—the call to serve whenever and wherever possible. It’s a call to follow the Savior’s example in every part of life.
Be dependable.
When it comes to specific assignments, Dario is someone you can count on. “He’s a good home teaching companion and shows real concern for our families,” says his dad. “He always helps remind me when it’s time to go.”
It’s the same with his quorum leadership role. Dario may be the only active priest in his branch. But he realizes a quorum leadership calling means more than conducting meetings and making assignments. He not only visits other priests to encourage them, but he works with the deacons and teachers too, visiting the inactive and offering friendship and encouragement.
Then there’s that general calling to serve, the one every priesthood bearer has. That’s why you’ll find Dario working alongside other priesthood bearers—young and old—to help put a roof on a member’s house, or to build a bathroom for one of the widows, or to help a family move into their new home.
That general calling is also why you will find Dario grocery shopping for the nonmember widow down the street. Or taking care of the children in a family while their mother is in the hospital. All this takes time, but, Dario explains, “I feel good; I don’t feel forced into it. I still have time for study and for my friends. Besides, I go with my friends in the priesthood to do many of these things.”
Follow the Savior.
In many ways, Dario is an ordinary guy. He loves soccer, volleyball, and track. Dario is also quite modest, and getting him to talk about his priesthood service is not easy. Ask him what striving to magnify his callings has done for him, and he searches for words. Then he simply says, “I feel closer to Christ by trying to follow his example.”

My baptism was to take place in a lake the following Sunday, August 22. The weather had been hot and dry. But on Monday, August 16, a steady rain began, and the temperature dropped sharply. Friday morning I awoke with terrible tonsillitis. My whole throat was congested, and I was running a fever. I thought it would pass before Sunday.
The missionaries came on Saturday to interview me. Elder Parker, a young and very tall missionary, asked me the questions. He also agreed to baptize me. I said nothing about my illness.
The day of my baptism arrived. When I woke up I found that my throat was still the same. It was then I realized for the first time in my life what the Lord wanted from me. I said to myself, “I’ll do whatever I have to for Him. I will be baptized. Everything will be fine. The water will be warm, and my sickness will disappear after I am baptized.”
On the way to the lake I told the sisters what had been going on with me. They both looked in my mouth and said, all bundled up in their raincoats, “This is no joke. Should we move everything to a pool?”
“No, no.” I had firmly made up my mind to go ahead with our plans.
It was beautiful when we got there. The lake was like a mirror, without even a ripple. It was about a hundred meters from the changing room to the water. It had rained all week and was muddy. When I came out of the changing room, I saw Elder Parker in his white clothes walking confidently through the mud toward the lake. That was a stunning sight.
We stood in a circle and sang a hymn. We could see our breath, but we were not paying attention to the weather anymore. As I took my first step into the water, I knew I was doing the right thing. It felt warm. And when I came up out of the water, I was happy and healthy. Everyone laughed and cried. I had taken my first step on the path home. Our Heavenly Father loves us and gives us trials, expecting us to make the right decisions, to not doubt what is good.
I will remember that miraculous day for the rest of my life. It will live in my heart with the memories of my grandmother, who sowed the seed that sprouted so many years after her death

Stephen Owino is a longtime resident of the city and a modern-day pioneer in every sense of the word. Neatly woven into his rich tapestry of faith are the comely threads of curiosity and patience in pursuit of truth. His soul-stirring conversion story involves multiple actors, across two different continents, working in concert to help him along the well-traveled path of discipleship. This mild-mannered, sociable father of three wrestled with the same questions that Joseph Smith and every honest seeker of truth must inevitably ask. Who am I? What is the purpose of life? Which church should I join?
Stephen’s onward march on the covenant path began with a simple online search for churches in Kenya, back in 2018. It was during one of those searches that he stumbled upon a passing reference to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and thought to himself, “What a peculiarly long name for a church.” Several clicks later—and what can only be described as a prompting from the Spirit—he would reach out halfway around the world to Tonya Isom, inquiring about the possibility of meeting with the missionaries so he could learn more about her beliefs. Why Tonya? For some reason he can’t explain, her thumbnail image stood out above the rest on the Church’s official Facebook page and he felt like she could help him find the answers he was looking for.
Several weeks elapsed before Tonya got around to reading Stephen’s message. In her reply, she included links to the official Church website and directed Stephen on how he could contact local missionaries. With the help of the Church’s online meetinghouse locator, she helped Stephen find the nearest chapel, which was some 9,570 miles away from her own hometown of Alamo, California.
On January 24, 2020, Tonya helped Stephen connect with Elder James Steward and his companion who were full-time missionaries serving in her California ward at the time. Over the course of the next three months, these missionaries would visit Stephen remotely via WhatsApp, sharing with him the message of the restored gospel. They encouraged him to read the Book of Mormon and to attend church regularly.
Because Stephen lives in Nairobi, the responsibility for teaching and preparing Stephen for baptism was assigned by Nairobi Kenya Mission president Khumbulani Mdletshe to sisters Clementine, Fretton, and Dingili—serving in Nairobi as full-time missionaries. They began teaching Stephen the missionary lessons.
Elder Steward—who had kept a meticulous digital record of Stephen’s progress—could not hide his joy when learning that, six months after their virtual encounter, Stephen had committed to baptism. Elder Steward credits this early experience with online teaching—long before it became the norm in his own mission—to “the Lord’s perfect timing”.
On August 23, 2020, Elder Steward—along with Tonya (and some invited members of Tonya’s family)—tuned in on a video call to watch Stephen’s baptism, confirmation, and subsequent ordination to the Aaronic Priesthood under the hand of Bishop Benard Oliech, of the Upper Hill Ward in Nairobi. It is remarkable when contemplating all the realities made possible by modern technology—that during this time of COVID-19, the Lord’s work is still able to proceed. Those present by video at the baptism described a feeling of the Spirit from their different regions of the world. “It’s a modern-day miracle,” Tonya observed.
Tonya finds great comfort in sharing the gospel. She firmly believes, “Where much is given, much is expected.” (See Luke 12:48.) In a recent video call attended by members of Upper Hill Ward, she admonished all to, “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God” (D&C 18:10).
Stephen, like thousands of Church members around the globe, isn’t shy about flooding the world with gospel light of his own through social media. And who knows? Perhaps another wandering soul in a part of the world, near to or distant from Stephen, will catch a glimmer of his light thus shared, and find a friend—and thus redemption.

Many suffering Saints have shared with me how they felt God’s love during their trials. I vividly recall my own experience at one point in my cancer battle when the doctors had not yet diagnosed the cause of some severe pain. I sat with my wife, intending to offer a routine blessing on our lunch. Instead, all I could do was simply weep, “Heavenly Father, please help me. I am so sick.” For the next 20 to 30 seconds, I was encircled in His love. I was given no reason for my illness, no indication of the ultimate outcome, and no relief from the pain. I just felt of His pure love, and that was and is enough.

Some years ago down in California, where I presided as a stake president, a bishop asked a young man in his ward if he would be willing to spend his summer months in doing missionary work. He was studying medicine, but he agreed that he would. Do you know what he did? He went around to the boys and girls he had attended high school with and said to them, “My Church has asked me to do some missionary work for it, and I am not very well prepared. How would you like to give me a few nights of your spare time and let me practice on you so that I will become prepared to do my missionary work?” With just that one little thought, he brought four of those high school friends into the Church during those summer months. Isn’t that better than sitting around twiddling your thumbs, wasting your time? There is opportunity all around us on every hand.

Diana Nunes described one thing about the Spirit that everyone seemed to feel but hadn’t put into words. Diana remembered when she had been sent ahead to live with relatives and start school before the rest of her family moved to England. Her father had given her a blessing, promising her that she would have confidence while they were apart. Diana said, “When he finished the blessing, I knew that when I was feeling alone and no one, not even my parents, could help me, the Spirit would be there to comfort me.”