Gospel Story Finder

In the Rechnoy Ward of Moscow, Russia, Galina Goncharova, who was serving as the ward historian, slipped on some ice and broke both her arms. She was taken to the hospital, where her arms were wrapped in casts. She couldn’t feed or clothe herself. She couldn’t comb her hair or even answer the phone.
When her fellow ward members learned of what had happened, they immediately responded. Priesthood holders gave her a blessing and worked with the Relief Society sisters to create a schedule to check on this good sister and attend to her needs.
Vladimir Nechiporov, the ward mission leader, said, “We remembered a talk given in general conference about a statue of Christ that was missing its hands.5 Below the statue someone had placed a plaque that read, ‘You are my hands.’ For the few weeks this good sister was incapacitated, the members of the Rechnoy Ward felt a kinship to that story. We literally became her hands.”

That strength is given to those who are older as well as the young. I know a widow more than 90 years of age. She is in a wheelchair. She prays as you do, pleading for help to solve problems beyond her human power to resolve. The answer is a feeling in her heart. It draws her to keep a commandment: “And behold, ye shall meet together oft.” So she finds a way to get to her meetings. People who attend there have told me, “We are so glad to see her. She brings such a spirit with her.”
She partakes of the sacrament, and she renews a covenant. She remembers the Savior, and she tries to keep His commandments. And so she takes His Spirit with her, always. Her problems may not be resolved. Most of them come from the choices of others, and even the Heavenly Father who hears her prayers and loves her cannot force others to choose the right. But He can send her to the safety of the Savior and the promise of His Spirit to be with her. And so I am sure that she will, in the strength of the Lord, pass the test she faces, because she keeps the commandment to gather often with the Saints. That is both the evidence that she is enduring well and the source of her strength for what lies ahead.

After Peter was released from the hospital, he arranged to go to Salt Lake City to undergo plastic surgery. He would live with his brother and sister-in-law and begin to work on his one great desire—to be as normal as possible.
But Peter had been living in a safe haven in the hospital. There people understood what had happened to him and accepted him for the person he was inside. But when he got out of the hospital he entered a world where people placed emphasis on appearances. An introduction to the outside world occurred when he went to the grocery store for the first time since his accident. He was feeling good about being out of the hospital, and his strength was returning. He walked to the store to pick up a few things. It was 5:00, and all the checkout counters were busy.
I was standing behind this lady. She had two young boys with her, but they were running around. Finally it was nearly her turn to be checked out, and her two boys came running over. As soon as they came up to their mom, one of the boys, about four years old, looked up and saw me. I scared him so badly, he started yelling, “Monster, monster.” He pulled away from his mother and started running down the aisle. She looked up to see what he was screaming about, and there I stood. She, too, dropped her groceries and took off down the aisle after the little boy. With this screaming, all the people at the other check stands were curious about what was going on. Everything stopped. Everyone turned and looked, and there I was in the middle of the store holding my loaf of bread. Then came all the ohs and ahs and people making comments that I could hear. It felt like a knife turning in my stomach.

Ítalo was excited for the ward temple trip. They were going to the Recife Brazil Temple. It was 15 hours away!
Ítalo, his older brother, Henrique, and their parents left early in the morning. As they rode along, Ítalo kept thinking about something Mom had told him. “This year, you can see how beautiful the temple is from the outside,” she said. “Next year, you’ll be old enough to see how beautiful it is on the inside.”
Ítalo hadn’t been to any temple before. But he had been watching the new temple being built in Fortaleza, where his family lived. It was amazing!
They stopped for lunch. Ítalo had his favorite, feijoada, black bean stew with rice. While he ate, he kept thinking about the temple. When the temple in Fortaleza was finally dedicated, it would be a temple his family could visit over and over again. They wouldn’t have to drive so far.
The sun was setting when Ítalo and his family arrived at the temple in Recife. “Que bonito!” Ítalo said. “How beautiful!” He couldn’t stop smiling.
The next morning, Mom showed Ítalo where he would be waiting with his friends from the ward. “Even though you can’t go inside the temple yet,” she said, “pay attention to the special spirit you can feel while you’re on the temple grounds.” Then the rest of Ítalo’s family went inside the temple.
Members of the ward sat with Ítalo and the other children on the grass near the temple. They read stories from O Livro de Mórmon (the Book of Mormon) together. Reading scriptures is a good way to get ready for the temple, Ítalo thought. He felt calm and safe. Mom’s right, he thought. There is a special feeling here.
Then the adults took Ítalo and the other children for a walk around the temple grounds. That’s when Ítalo noticed the words over the entrance to the temple. “Santidade ao Senhor. A casa do Senhor,” they said. “Holiness to the Lord: the House of the Lord.”
No wonder I feel so peaceful here, he thought. This is God’s house.
When the temple trip was over, Ítalo and his family returned home. He wanted to remember how he had felt at the temple. What could he do?
Sometimes Ítalo felt he could draw his feelings better than he could write about them. So he drew a picture of the temple. Then he showed it to Mom and Dad.
“This will remind me of where I want to go,” he said. He kept the picture in his room where he could look at it each day.
“I want to be ready,” he said. “Because I want to go inside someday!”

A few months ago, members of the Daveyton Third Branch, of the Benoni South Africa Stake, experienced firsthand the thrill of researching their own family histories and performing sacred ordinances for their ancestors in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple.
The project began in earnest last April as branch members became at first interested and then determined to discover the spirit of Elijah in their own lives and in the lives of their families. The Church’s family history tools—especially the new and easy-to-use Family Tree Lite website at lite.fs.org—enabled the branch members to research their ancestors’ names and key dates and then record those individuals as branches in their own family tree.
Branch members were aided by Elder Gordon and Sister Susan Foote, who are a senior missionary couple assigned to the Daveyton Third Branch. “We got behind this effort and supported the goal of the branch president (Edward Mtshali) for branch members to find at least one of their own family names and then perform baptismal ordinances in the Johannesburg Temple,” Sister Foote explained.
Elder Foote began by helping more than 40 branch members register online and obtain individual FamilySearch accounts. Then an Africa Southeast Area senior missionary couple, Elder Dennis and Sister Merrily Bird, who are area family history specialists, traveled to the branch several weeks in a row, helping complete registrations, teaching key concepts, and assisting members with their questions. They also taught branch members how to enter family history information themselves through the Family Tree Lite website on their personal cell phones.
Once members had properly entered the names and information of their ancestors, they scheduled a day trip for Saturday, April 21, 2018, to travel to the Johannesburg South Africa Temple to complete proxy baptism and confirmations. With the distance from Daveyton to the temple being about 50 kilometers—and with few members owning cars—transportation was a key issue. Branch members made and sold African greeting cards to pay for public transportation to and from the temple.
All their hard work and planning paid off and on that very special day, 25 branch members journeyed to the temple and completed baptisms and confirmation ordinances for 66 of their ancestors. The spirit of Elijah poured forth.
Back in Daveyton the next day, Sunday, April 22, 2018, President Mtshali invited all who desired to share their testimonies of the experience. Many in that meeting could not hold back tears as they listened to the testimonies that were shared about the preparation and research—but especially their experiences in the temple. Here are some of the comments:
“I saw angels in the temple. I felt my ancestors’ presence.”
“I told my mother of a dream I had the day before going to the temple, of being in the temple and seeing all the people in the temple, including my ancestors.”
“If I had any doubts about the Church before, they all left after I went in the temple.”
“During my confirmation, I felt my aunt and my sister-in-law were present.”
“I felt a presence in the temple I never felt before.”
“While going to the temple yesterday I felt a spirit and joy that was like I feel it will be like at His Second Coming.”
“I was baptized by my husband for his mother. I express genuine gratitude to him and his honorable use of his priesthood.”
“I had to be baptized seven times for one ancestor. She must have been troubled on the other side. It was worth it to know she has the gospel now. I was very scared to be baptized so many times, but now I am happy.”
“Yesterday I was baptized for my great-grandmother. I know she loves me and when we meet on the other side she will thank me.”
“I followed in the footsteps of Jesus Christ and used my priesthood to baptize and was baptized myself.”
“Having my young priest-aged brother baptize me was frightening, but I did it and we both were so very happy.”
“It was truly wonderful. I can’t even find words to express my joy.”
“The temple brings us joy and our ancestors joy.”

I was baptized when I was 18 years old and I never thought about serving a mission. Missionaries and members of the Church use to ask me about it whenever we met. I used to say, “I will think about it, let me finish my studies.” I finished my studies. The members continued to ask, “When are you going to serve a mission?” I would answer, “Let me make some money then I will think about it.” Every time, I used to give excuses for not serving a mission.
One day I sat on the rooftop, thinking about what I should do, wondering why God had given me challenges. Just one thought came into my mind: “Go on a mission.” A few days later I watched general conference with lots of questions. The main one was about my mission. I was waiting for the answers, when I heard President Dieter F. Uchtdorf say, “Those who love and serve God and fellowmen and humbly and actively participate in His work will see wondrous things happen in their lives and in the lives of those they love”1. I felt very strongly that it was the perfect answer from Him that I needed. The next moment I spoke to my mom. She did not want me to serve a mission. She had said many times, “I can’t live two years without you.” That day I thought she might say no, but she said, “I am happy to send you on a mission.”
I submitted my papers and waited for my call letter for almost one year. Meanwhile I went on exchanges with missionaries and learned a lot from them. This preparation helped me to gain a strong testimony to never give up on my mission and taught me how important it is to serve the Lord. Eventually the wait was over. The call letter came. When I opened it and saw that I was called to serve in the India New Delhi Mission, I was shocked. I read the letter again and saw at the bottom, “your purpose will be to invite others to come unto Christ.” I felt joy and happiness. I was prepared to leave my home, family, and friends.
There is no other place I would rather be than in the India New Delhi Mission where I have come to know who I am and why God sent me here. Because of Jesus Christ, I have the power to deal with the burdens, obstacles, and temptations. He had delivered me from physical and spiritual danger. The mission field is like a washing machine where we, like a dirty cloth, can be put in it, to be twisted, spun and knocked around and come out brighter, cleaner and better than before.
The Lord demands our whole soul on the sacrificial altar. That is the price we must pay, and when we do, we become instruments in his hands. We are all answerable to Him in this life, and in the next, we will be held accountable when we are called before Him to make our report. When that time comes, I will stand before Him to give an account of my stewardship. I pray that I may be able to do so without embarrassment, apology, or excuse. I am not perfect, I do have my weaknesses, but I can say that I have tried to do what the Lord would have me do as his servant disciple.

In 1931 Amelia married George Palmer Putnam, a publisher who had interviewed her before her flight across the Atlantic. And in April of 1932 Amelia was eager to try another major flight. She had flown over one thousand hours in the preceding two years, but she wanted a new challenge. She decided to fly the Atlantic Ocean alone, in spite of the warnings of her friends and family.
On May 20, 1932, she climbed into her Lockheed Vega and took off from Harbor Grace, Newfoundland. The flight was torture. Heavy rain and fog enveloped the plane. Then ice began to form on the wings. Raw gasoline, leaking from a broken gauge, flooded the floor and made sickening fumes. Amelia began to fear that fire might break out at any time. Suddenly, the plane began to dive. The ice had weighted the wings too heavily. Amelia tried everything she’d learned from her past flying experience, and, finally, one hundred feet above the Atlantic, she pulled the plane up.
Hour after hour the plane droned on. Then a patch of green appeared. Ireland! Amelia had made the flight in fourteen hours and fifty-six minutes, becoming the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic.
Before returning to America, she was entertained by European royalty. King George V and Queen Mary of England, Belgium’s King Albert, and dignitaries from several other nations decorated her.
America welcomed her home with more honors. She received the Distinguished Flying Cross from Congress and the National Geographic’s premier gold medal. Cheering crowds greeted her everywhere she went.

Dad spooned peas onto Abby’s plate. “Do you remember why we do service each November?”
Mark remembered how sad they all felt when Ellen, his baby sister, died two years before. He still felt sad about it sometimes, especially during special family times or when Mom cried.
“I remember,” Mark said. “When it was almost Ellen’s first birthday, we were sad, so we made up ‘Ellen Projects’ to help people. Mom said serving helps us feel thankful for what we have.”
“And when we feel thankful, we feel happy,” Mom said. “Even when we are missing our baby.”

But even though Janick is often a whirlpool of activity, there are times when he quietly thinks about the gospel. One day his father was giving Natalie a father’s blessing because she had a difficult test coming up at school. Janick also asked for a blessing. He was very serious about it. In the blessing he was told that he should always remember to pray. And he does. “We should pray because it is a commandment. We should ask for Heavenly Father’s protection and thank Him,” Janick explained.

A while back, my good friend G. Marion Hinckley from Utah County, my fellow trail rider, came to the office with two grandsons who were brothers, one having served an honorable mission in Japan and the other in Scotland. Brother Hinckley said, “Let me share with you a wonderful experience which came to these grandsons of mine.” His buttons were almost bursting with pride.

In faraway Japan, a commercial street photographer stopped one of the brothers, having taken a picture of him holding a small child. He offered the print for sale to the missionary and his companion. They explained that they were on a tight budget, that they were missionaries, and they directed the photographer’s attention to their nameplates. They didn’t purchase the picture.

Some months later, the brother serving in Scotland was asking two missionaries why they had arrived late for a zone meeting, when they told this story: A most persistent street photographer had attempted to sell them a picture of a missionary in Japan holding a small child. They had no interest in the picture, but to avoid arriving even later at their zone meeting, they purchased it.

“A likely story,” responded Elder Lamb, whereupon they handed him the picture. He could not believe his eyes. It was a photograph of his own brother in faraway Japan.

That day in my office they presented to my view the two pictures, and with their grandfather beaming his approval they declared, “The Lord surely is mindful of his servants the missionaries.”

As they departed my office, I thought, Yes, the Lord is mindful of his missionaries—and their fathers, their mothers, their grandparents, and all who sacrifice for their support, that precious souls may be taught and provided His gospel.

Dad says it’s OK to use the barn for our riding club meetings. How about another one of those apples, McGraw? Well, guys, what do you say?” asked Jason Farwell, flipping the hair out of his eyes with a jerk of his head.
“Boy, Jason, that’s great!” said Eddie Fowler. “Say, McGraw, where’d you get these good apples?”
“Mom gave me a whole sackful. Do you suppose we could have trail rides and rodeos and cookouts and stuff, Jase?”
“Sure. You in?” Jason asked Dexter McGraw, who liked anything that involved food or horses. “How about you, Eddie, you in?
“You bet,” mumbled Eddie with a mouthful of apple.
“Hey, Jase,” he said, swallowing, “let’s ask Barney Lightner to join too. He rides.”
Eddie always wanted to include Barney in their plans. Jason said it was because Barney was the only one in school who had redder hair and more freckles than Eddie.
“Now. Who wants him? He’s weird.”
“Not really, Jase. He’s pretty neat when you get to know him. OK? Here he comes now. Hey, Lightner!”
“Hi, Eddie, guys. Hey, can I have your apple cores when you’ve finished eating your apples?”
“See what I mean? A real winner,” grumbled Jason sarcastically under his breath. “Nuts, there’s the bell. Boy, they never make recesses long enough. Come on, we’ll finish talking after school. Oh, Lightner, here’s your apple core.”
After school Jason and Dexter met to finish making plans.
“Oh, no,” muttered Jason. “Here comes Eddie and Lightner. Hey, Lightner, eaten any apple cores lately?”
“Aw, knock it off, Jase,” said Eddie. “You know he takes them home to Thunder.”
“Lightner, what do you think of the idea of us starting a riding club?” asked Dexter. “We want to have trail rides and rodeos and stuff like that.”
“Yeah,” grumbled Jason. “You might as well join, too, Lightner.”
“Thanks, guys, but I wouldn’t have time for it. Oh, here comes the bus. I have to get home and ride old Thunder. See ya.”
“Well, how do you like that?” said Jason. “For a poor kid, he’s pretty snooty if you ask me.”
Saturday turned out to be one of those beautiful spring days when the sun feels extra warm and the breezes feel extra cool. The riding club had planned a trail ride and camp-out in a canyon called Webster’s Gulch. Since it was on their way, the boys decided to stop at the Lightners’ house to give Barney a chance to change his mind. Mrs. Lightner said they’d find him in the barnyard riding old Thunder.
As the boys rounded the corner of the house, they saw Barney astride—a mule! He took turns pleading and hollering at the animal, but it wouldn’t budge an inch. When Barney saw the boys, his face became even redder than his hair, and he stammered, “He’s not usually this stubborn. Honest.”
Not being able to afford the horse Barney had always dreamed of owning, his mother allowed him to ride their old work mule, which Barney had named Thunder.
After what seemed to Barney like an eternity of laughter and cowboy jokes, the boys finally left. One thing was sure—he was going to have a miserable day at school on Monday. They’d see to that!
Later the boys camped half-way up the canyon, and set up a tether line to tie their horses to. A wide ledge about four feet up the canyon wall made a perfect place to pitch their tent.
Late that night it started to thunder violently, and the lightning flashed almost without interruption. Eventually the thunder subsided to a distant rumble, but the rain remained a steady torrent. After a few ghost stories the boys dropped off to sleep.
Just before dawn, the boys were suddenly awakened by Jason’s shout of alarm. The horses had broken loose from their tether line, and the canyon was now a raging river, with water inching up toward their tent.
The boys made a desperate scramble up the sheer wall of the canyon only to fall down again to their ledge, which was rapidly disappearing under the water. And Jason, in his try for safety, twisted his ankle.
The boys saw their tent being swept away, and they knew that they would be next.
“Listen!” yelled Jason above the sound of the rushing water. “I hear something!”
Above the rumble of the distant thunder, the roar of the water, and the steady drumming of the rain, they heard someone hollering!
There, on the rim of the canyon above them, was Barney, and he was lowering a rope to them. His friends quickly tied the rope under Jason’s arms while Barney tied the other end to Thunder. Then Barney and Thunder pulled Jason and then the other two boys to safety.
“Boy! I never thought I’d be so glad to see your old mule!” exclaimed Eddie. “How’d you know we were in trouble, Barney?”
“I woke up when your horses went galloping through Mom’s garden. I figured you might have been flooded out after that heavy rain. So I rounded up old Thunder, grabbed a rope, and got here as fast as I could.”
Everyone at school on Monday was buzzing about how Barney Lightner and old Thunder had saved the boys from a flash flood.
“Well, Barney,” said Miss Wilkins, their teacher, “I hear that you’re some kind of a hero. And that Thunder of yours must really be some kind of horse!”
Barney sank down in his seat, fearing what would surely come next, when a shuffling sound in the doorway diverted everyone’s attention. There, on crutches, stood Jason.
“That’s right, Miss Wilkins,” Jason said with a wink toward Barney. “Old Thunder is some kind of horse!”

A true story from the Philippines.
Lhensay bounced in her seat next to her mom as their jeepney drove through town. Sunday was Lhensay’s favorite day of the week! She loved going to Primary and learning about Jesus Christ.
The jeepney pulled up to their stop. Mom held Lhensay’s hand as they walked to the church.
After sacrament meeting, Lhensay walked to Primary with her friend Maria. On the board there was a picture of a young man praying in the woods.
“Good morning!” Their teacher, Sister Cruz, pointed to the picture. “Does anyone know who this is?”
“That’s Joseph Smith!” Lhensay said.
Sister Cruz smiled. “Yes, that’s right. And what did Joseph Smith do?”
Lhensay looked back at the picture. She knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet, but she didn’t know much else.
“He was the first prophet of our church,” Maria said.
“Right again!” said Sister Cruz. “When Joseph was young, he didn’t know which church to join. He went into the woods and prayed to God to find out which one was true. He also asked for forgiveness of his sins. As he prayed, a very bright light appeared. Do you know who was in that light?”
Lhensay and the rest of her class waited.
Sister Cruz put another picture on the board. This one showed two men standing above Joseph Smith in the air. They wore white robes and shone brightly.
“Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ showed themselves to Joseph,” Sister Cruz said. “They told him that he would restore Jesus’s Church. We call it the First Vision.”
Lhensay raised her hand, eyes wide. “Was it for real?” she asked.
Sister Cruz nodded. “Yes, it was!”
Lhensay’s heart felt warm. She knew that what Sister Cruz had said was true.
That night, Lhensay kept thinking about Joseph Smith. “Mom, how can I see Heavenly Father and Jesus, like Joseph Smith did?” she asked.
Mom gave Lhensay a hug. “Most of us won’t see Heavenly Father and Jesus like Joseph Smith did. But They can still speak to us through thoughts and feelings from the Holy Ghost. Then you can know They are always with you.”
Lhensay thought about the way her heart felt warm when Sister Cruz told them about the First Vision. That was the Holy Ghost, sending her a message from Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ! She smiled and hugged Mom back. They had spoken to her, just like they had to Joseph Smith!

When President M. Russell Ballard set me apart as the new president of the Provo Utah YSA First Stake, he provided a simple and specific assignment: “Go visit your leaders and members in their homes and apartments!” That was it; he gave no other training or assignments.
Coordinating our efforts with our bishops, we started on Tuesday, two days after our stake conference. As we ministered in our stake, we made mistakes, missed opportunities, and often thought, “I could have said that better” or “I wish we had asked a better question.”
Brigham Young University President Kevin J Worthen observed that “failing is a critical component of our eternal progress—our quest for perfection. And because of the Atonement we can—if we respond to failures in the right way—be blessed with a new kind of learning that allows our failures to become part of the perfecting process.”4
This was our experience as we learned to minister to the leaders and members of the stake and to others we met. As we continued ministering, the Lord began to put more and more people in our path.
On one occasion, one of my counselors, J. B. Haws, and I were walking between apartment complexes when we met a young man in the parking lot. We stopped to say hello and found out that he was moving out of our stake. We talked for a moment and discovered that he was a returned missionary facing questions about his faith. My counselor is a master teacher who connects with people easily. Answering questions like these was natural and normal for J. B. I could see in this young man’s eye a light that may have been missing for some time reappear as they talked.
It was obvious that J. B. was interested in him and in his questions and concerns. The young man opened himself up because J. B. showed compassion. My counselor’s “bowels were filled” with love, and he had a desire to understand this young man without judging him. J. B. asked if we could visit him once he settled into his new apartment. The young man nodded, mobile numbers were exchanged, and a promise to follow up with him was made.
Before we left, we asked if there was anything we could do to help. He said, “Stopping to say hello was one of the most important things you could have done for me today.” Later that evening, I thought to myself, “If J. B. and I had not been out ministering, we may never have met this young man.”
It seems the Lord knew that we would be ministering that evening, so He placed this young man in our path—trusting we would see him and minister to him.
When we desire to minister to all as we go about our daily lives, the Lord will place people in our paths because He trusts us that we will look up from our mobile phones, take a moment to smile at a stranger, or ask a question from someone we have met in the market or wherever we find ourselves at school, work, or church.
Image from Getty Images
Looking back on the Savior’s example in 3 Nephi, I discovered an important principle about ministering. As you will remember:
“It came to pass that when he had thus spoken, all the multitude, with one accord, did go forth with their sick and their afflicted, and their lame, and with their blind, and their dumb, and with all them that were afflicted in any manner; and he did heal them every one as they were brought forth unto him.
“And they did all, both they who had been healed and they who were whole, bow down at his feet, and did worship him; and as many as could come for the multitude did kiss his feet, insomuch that they did bathe his feet with their tears” (3 Nephi 17:9–10; emphasis added).
Notice that those ministering brothers and sisters who helped bring those they knew and loved closer to Jesus Christ also found themselves at the Savior’s feet, bowing, worshipping, and kissing and bathing His feet with their tears.
As we minister to all, we will see Christ healing emotional, spiritual, and physical wounds. And as we invite others to “come and see” and “come and help” in natural and normal ways, we will find our own wounds being healed too.

When I was a young man in high school, one of my passions was American football. I played middle linebacker. The coach worked the team hard, teaching us the basics. We practiced until the skills became natural and automatic. During one play against our biggest rival, I had an experience that has helped me over the years. We were on defense. I knew my assigned opponent, and as the play unfolded, he moved to my right into the line of scrimmage. There was a lot of noise from players and fans. I reacted as the coach had taught us and followed my man into the line, not knowing if he had the ball. To my surprise, I felt the ball partially in my hands. I gave it a tug, but my opponent didn’t let go. As we tugged back and forth, amid all the noise I heard a voice yelling, “Packer, tackle him!” That was enough to bring me to my senses, so I dropped him on the spot.

I have wondered how I heard that voice above all the other noise. I had become acquainted with the voice of the coach during the practices, and I had learned to trust it. I knew that what he taught worked.

I am a missionary, and I didn’t gain my own testimony until I was four months into my mission. I know what you are going through, and it isn’t easy. I wish, however, that I, like you, had had enough courage to ask someone. I would have been better prepared for my mission.
It’s not wrong to feel the way you do. Asking the question shows that you are willing to do what it takes to gain a testimony.
I like to liken a testimony to a seed. Most of us who were raised in the Church begin by relying on the testimonies of our parents, which is really not bad. We figure that since they know what they are talking about, then it must be true. So here the seed is planted.
How do you help a seed to grow? By nourishing it with the proper food. So it is with a testimony. If you want a testimony of the Church, then go to the keystone of our religion, the Book of Mormon. Read it. I don’t mean for you to sit down and in one big swoop read the whole thing. Try this method instead. It worked for me and many of my investigators.
Pick a topic—say faith, for example.
Read each verse in the scriptures that refers to faith. Read the chapter in which that verse is located. This will give you an idea of what was happening at the time.
Once you finish this, go back and just read the verse, but this time apply it to you.
4. Now do what Moroni said to do in Moroni 10:3–5 [Moro. 10:3–5]. Pray about it. I promise you that Heavenly Father will answer you through the Spirit.
I wish I had done this before my mission. All I did was read straight through, and I didn’t gain much from it. Then when I came on my mission I relied on my companions’ testimonies, which didn’t do me any good, so I decided I’d better get my own.
I nourished the seed that was planted inside my heart, and I continue to nourish it by reading, studying, pondering, and praying about it so that I might have a better understanding of what is being said. Just like a seed, if a testimony is not nourished it will die. As you nourish the seed it will swell within you. Let it happen. Then you can honestly say you are bearing your own testimony. I hope this works for you.
Elder John Hodge, 21England London South Mission

I had a special experience after reading a quote from an Apostle about simple but effective ways to gain a testimony. When I finished reading it, I immediately remembered a friend whose testimony was wavering. I quickly wrote her a letter and included the quotation.
I took the letter to her home, and I read it to her. At the end I bore my testimony. I can’t describe the powerful spirit that was present. My friend was surprised and thanked me for sharing the quote with her.
From that moment my friend started to change. She began to read the scriptures, pray more often, and attend church. Whenever we visited each other, we shared a spiritual thought and our testimonies. Today she is very active in the ward and serves as my counselor in the Laurel class presidency.Yésica Florencia Martín, Santos Lugares Ward, Argentina Buenos Aires West Stake

After the closing prayer, while everyone is mingling and cleaning up, 17-year-old Chilton Sisinio Tutor, Jr., sitting in a wheelchair, shares his story. “I’ve been a member now for six years. First my mother was baptized, but it took me a year to decide. The missionaries always seemed happy. There was something different about them. I wanted to know more about the gospel.
“We hadn’t been very religious up to that time, because before my father died we spent every Sunday at the beach. When he died, we moved here. I was 12. Like Joseph Smith, I wondered what church was right.
“I haven’t been handicapped all my life, but I was only six months old when I got polio. It’s fairly common here. As I learned about the gospel the bitterness about my disease melted. It’s all gone now. Sometimes I think I’d rather be like this than able to walk. Maybe this has been a blessing in disguise, because it’s helped me to think about the Church more, to think about life more.”
He smiles and laughs. “When I first started coming to the ward, there were only 16 people. Now there are more than 600. The Church is growing fast here in the Philippines.” Then he talks about how Church activities have helped him develop reading and speaking skills. He just won first place in the stake speech contest.
“I’ve had lots of good examples in my life,” he continues. “But the man I admire the most is Joseph Smith. He had strong faith and courage to ask which church is true. I think he showed a lot of people how important it is to ask God.”
For the young Latter-day Saints in Quezon City, Makati, Cainta Taytay, and Angono, life in the Philippines is a life of contrasts. They know that in the tops of remote outer-island mountains some aborigines still live in tribes, while in the tops of modern office buildings in Manila executives plan international marketing ventures. In the streets, flashy motorcars and horse-drawn kalesas (carriages) travel down the same lanes. In private conversations 87 dialects are spoken, but in public, English and Tagalog (ta-GAL-ag) unite the people.
In the city, brightly painted jeepneys (taxi buses) rush commuters to businesses and markets where thousands of people crowd the streets. In the provinces, a farmer plowing behind a carabao (water buffalo) might spend the whole day without seeing another person, and by the ocean a beachcomber can wander for miles all alone.
The Saints here have seen contrasts in life, too. Chilton knows that his father’s death led his family to move to the area where they met the missionaries and found a new life. He is convinced that his childhood affliction has molded his character and helped him to rely on the gospel. Myrna has known the frustration of groping in ignorance and the joy of learning by the Spirit. Raoul doesn’t like to get up early but loves to go to seminary. Susie misses Mexico but loves her new home.
They live in a land where summer sparkles and winter brings monsoon rains. It is a land where wars and occupation once thwarted a people who love freedom and peace. It is a land that has bred a people full of optimism and courage, who firmly believe difficulties are only opportunities looked at from the wrong direction.
The Philippine Islands are a land of sunshine and rain, a land that hopes to weather storms and challenges to arrive at a bright tomorrow. Young Latter-day Saints who live here know that by living the gospel and sharing it with their friends, they will lead the way.

Lawrence Bodily, a friend, age 79
“When I was just six or seven, I saw Ezra T. and Serge Ballif, both about 14 or 15, get into a water fight with Henry Mockli, a neighbor who was in his 30s. They just about drowned him. They were working out in a field, and they started water fighting out of the ditch. I’ll never forget that. When he’d chase one, the other would get a bucketful of water and go after him. It was good, clean fun. Ezra T. never did anything that I know of, nor any of the other boys either, that wasn’t good, clean fun. A better town never existed than this little town of Whitney when we were kids.”

In 1995, this time as a mission president, I saw Mama Taamino again. She had moved back to the atoll of Makemo, not far from her birthplace. Now in her 80s, she could no longer walk, but the wrinkles of her face expressed peace, patience, and a deep understanding of life and the gospel. She still had a beautiful smile, and her eyes showed pure charity.
Early the next morning I found her seated in one of the meetinghouse flower beds, weeding and cleaning. One of her sons had carried her there. After she finished one area, she would use her hands and arms to move herself to the next area. This was her way of continuing to serve the Lord.
In the late afternoon when I was conducting temple recommend interviews, Mama Taamino was brought to where I was seated in the shade of a tree near the chapel. She wanted the opportunity to answer each question required for a temple recommend.
“President, I cannot go to the temple anymore,” she said. “I am getting old and sick, but I always want to have a current temple recommend with me.”
I could tell how much she wanted to return to the temple, and I knew that her longing was acceptable to God. Not long afterward, she left her earthly tabernacle to join those she had faithfully served in the house of the Lord. She took with her nothing but her faith, testimony, kindness, charity, and willingness to serve.

Last year, our very first nephew, Nathan, left to serve a mission in Mexico. We explained to our children that Nathan was in the MTC to learn Spanish. One evening we decided to devote a family home evening night to writing letters to him. Although we were helping the youngest, all of the other children were writing independently. At one point, Stephen, age 7, asked, “How do you spell ‘empty?’” We thought nothing of it at the time, but later as we were reviewing what the kids had written, we saw this question in Stephen’s letter: “Dear Nathan, what do you do in the empty sea?”—Meredith J., Colorado