Gospel Story Finder

In the 1950s my mother survived radical cancer surgery, but difficult as that was, the surgery was followed by dozens of painful radiation treatments in what would now be considered rather primitive medical conditions. She recalls that her mother taught her something during that time that has helped her ever since: “I was so sick and weak, and I said to her one day, ‘Oh, Mother, I can’t stand having 16 more of those treatments.’ She said, ‘Can you go today?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Well, honey, that’s all you have to do today.’ It has helped me many times when I remember to take one day or one thing at a time.”

But Brian’s quickness isn’t what really impressed his baseball coach the first year Brian played. What most impressed coach Marcus Cloud from Hempstead, Texas, was the kind of example Brian set for his teammates: he never swore, he didn’t talk back, and he went out of his way to befriend his teammates.
“Brian carried himself in a way that was real positive, outgoing, and it always seemed like there was something a little bit different about him,” says Coach Cloud. The coach couldn’t figure out what the difference was, but he was so intrigued by it that he started following Brian’s example. When Coach Cloud found out that Brian didn’t drink tea, he decided not to drink it either.
And when Coach found out that Brian was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, he made up his mind to look into that too. Coach Cloud first met the missionaries at Thanksgiving dinner at the Blacks’ home. That night, he told the missionaries he wanted to know about the religion Brian practiced. Soon the coach was meeting with the missionaries regularly and talking to Brian. “Brian filled in a lot of blanks for me. I would go and talk with him about the things that I had read in the Book of Mormon, and he was actually able to answer a lot of questions for me,” says Coach Cloud.
But the most important question Brian’s coach asked him came on the bus ride back from a baseball game in the nearby town of Columbus. He asked simply, “Brian, do you think I have what it takes to be a member of the Church?” Brian smiled and answered, “I would say you do.” But despite Brian’s reassurances, Coach Cloud still wasn’t sure if he was ready for baptism.
A week later, Brian’s baseball team suffered a huge loss to a rival high school. After the game, the players sat in silence waiting for the bus to take them home. Everyone was depressed, especially Coach Cloud.
Brian walked over to the coach to cheer him up. Intending to comment on the game, Coach Cloud looked up at Brian. But instead of replaying the day’s gory defeat, he said, “Brian, I am going to be baptized.” If Brian was shocked by the announcement, so was his coach. But Coach Cloud says he knew he needed to join the Church.
Brian was thrilled. “It was neat that it was my baseball coach getting baptized,” says Brian, who as a priest in the Waller Branch was able to perform the ordinance. Brian says the experience strengthened his friendship with Coach Cloud. In fact, last summer the two took a trip to Utah to visit temples in the area and see Brian’s grandparents.
Unable to resist his coaching instincts for even a second, Coach Cloud made Brian work out every day but Sunday during the trip, no matter what. While they were on the road from Texas to Utah, they would often stop at rest stations and lay out orange cones so Brian could run sprints.
Far more important than the athletic training, however, was the spiritual conditioning Brian received from the trip. He and Coach Cloud were able to do baptisms for the dead at the Provo Utah Temple and visit several Church history sites. And Brian and his coach had plenty of time to talk about Brian’s plans to serve a full-time mission. “I’m looking forward to the spiritual experiences you get from a mission,” says Brian.
It’s Sunday, and the Waller Branch’s sacrament meeting is about to start. Brian sits with his family, his arm around his younger brother Brent, 8, who is dressed in clothes identical to the big brother he looks up to. Coach Cloud walks in and quietly sits down beside them.
Although his friendship with Brian has been sealed by both victory and loss on the baseball field, it’s here, enjoying the gospel, that the two feel their greatest bond. It’s a bond formed because of Brian’s example—on and off the field.
“If youth were to learn something from Brian, it’s that it is important that you set the right example,” says Coach Cloud. “There are people like me who would love to know about the gospel, but they don’t know where to look.”
Until a shortstop with quick feet and a strong testimony comes along, that is.

One young woman remembers how her visiting teacher shared a spirit of caring, concern, and friendship with her. She had moved into a new ward at the end of her last year of law school and found herself to be the youngest member there by about 30 years. “Feeling uncomfortable and not knowing anyone,” she recalls, “I drifted into semiactivity. I would appear and disappear in Church like a shadow without exchanging words with anyone.
“In the next few weeks there appeared at my door a vibrant, good-humored, white-haired lady who announced she was my visiting teacher. I received visits from her on an almost weekly basis, many times with other sisters of the ward in tow so that I might become acquainted. [Before long] I was no longer a shadow in Church. [My visiting teacher introduced] me into a vast army of friends. After having been away from [this ward] for several years, I still count its members [as] some of my most cherished friends.”8

For their part, Toshiko and her husband, Tokichi, struggled with aspects of being Latter-day Saints—especially paying tithing. Tokichi did not make much money, and sometimes they wondered if they had enough to pay for their son’s school lunch. They were also hoping to buy a house.

After one Church meeting, Toshiko asked a missionary about tithing. “Japanese people are very poor now after the war,” she said. “Tithing is so hard for us. Must we pay?”3

The elder replied that God commanded everyone to pay tithing, and he spoke of the blessings of obeying the principle. Toshiko was skeptical—and a little angry. “This is American thinking,” she told herself.

Other missionaries encouraged her to have faith. One sister missionary promised Toshiko that paying tithing could help her family reach their goal of owning their own house. Wanting to be obedient, Toshiko and Tokichi decided to pay their tithing and trust that blessings would come.4

She and Tokichi also began to see blessings come from paying tithing. They purchased an affordable lot in the city and drew up blueprints for a house. They then applied for a home loan through a new government program, and once they received approval to build, they started work on a foundation.

The process went smoothly until a building inspector noticed that their lot was inaccessible to firefighters. “This land is not land that is suitable for building a house,” he told them. “You cannot proceed any further with the construction.”

Unsure what to do, Toshiko and Tokichi spoke to the missionaries. “The six of us will fast and pray for you,” an elder told them. “You do the same.”

For the next two days, the Yanagidas fasted and prayed with the missionaries. Another inspector then came out to reassess their lot. He had a reputation for being strict, and at first he gave the Yanagidas little hope of passing the inspection. But as he looked over the lot, he noticed a solution. In an emergency, the fire department could get to the property simply by removing a nearby fence. The Yanagidas could build their house after all.

“I guess you two must have done something exceptionally good in the past,” the inspector told them. “In all my years I have never been so accommodating.”

Toshiko and Tokichi were overjoyed. They had fasted and prayed and paid their tithing. And just as the sister missionary had promised, they would have a home of their own.6

Another attempt to capture the stallion began at the horse’s favorite watering hole, Onion Creek, ten miles southeast of Austin, Texas. One day, while the stallion and his band of fifty to sixty drank at Onion Creek, twelve determined men assembled on Pilot Knob, a bluff overlooking the creek. Each man had two horses that were handpicked for speed and endurance.

To set the trap, ten of the men rode down the blind side of the knob and concealed themselves and their horses in positions south of the creek along the trail the white stallion usually took. The other two conspirators waited on Pilot Knob until they heard birdcall signals from the ten men to indicate they had reached their designated stations.

The zero hour had come. The two men on Pilot Knob eased down the back of the hill and rode in a wide arc north of the wild horses. Then, shouting and waving their hats, they charged full speed from the north at the mustang band. The startled horses, logy with water, fled straight south toward the ambush.

The stallion, accustomed to being the target of hunters, pulled ahead of his band. As he thundered along the trail, the concealed men, one after another, snaked out their lariats, missed, and cursed. Several drew pistols and fired. They aimed to stun the great horse by creasing the back of his neck. But they couldn’t touch him as he raced with the wind, his mane and tail streaming behind.

More wary than ever now, the stallion paced in huge circles, working gradually south. His loyal family followed him until his mares and colts, a few at a time, dropped away, exhausted.

At the end of three days and nights without rest, the stallion still paced on. He was now two hundred miles south of Onion Creek and had worn out all but two of the horsemen stalking him.

After another day, the two men finally gave up the chase. The white stallion was still headed south.

Where he went, no one ever knew—but he was free. This famous mystery horse, the Pacing White Stallion, lives on today in legend as a symbol of the love of freedom.

For a service project, the teens cleaned up two overgrown pioneer cemeteries. “It was more than just a service project,” says Nephi Stewart. “There was a great spirit there.”

The youth were humbled as they found headstones of children and teenagers buried there. They were touched when they found grave markers of families who had lost several children.

During their service project, it began to rain heavily. Despite that, the youth cooperated, enjoyed their work, and buoyed each other up.

There are two main experiences that led to my testimony of Christ. The first happened the day my big brother died. He passed away on a Scout outing in eastern Arizona. I was 14 years old. When my parents and I found out, we were heartbroken.
At first, it was hard to imagine that I would be living the rest of my life without my big brother. But I was wrong. From the moment I heard of his death, I felt peace. I was at peace because Christ was there to mourn with me when I mourned and comfort me when I needed comfort. Never for one minute did I feel alone.
More than a year later, I participated in the Mesa Temple Easter Pageant. It depicts Christ’s life on the earth and plays six nights during the week of Easter. The best part was that it took place on the temple grounds. I was just one of the crowd in a cast of 300. For several weeks, I was able to spend hours near a house of the Lord.
As I watched Christ’s life portrayed to thousands of people, I was able to witness a representation of His birth. I was feet away when He was shown healing the sick and raising the dead. I watched when He was portrayed suffering and atoning for the sins of the world, and I was there when He was depicted dying on the cross for all. I was there and saw the portrayal of Him rising from the dead three days later, and I saw the representation of Him ascending to His Father.
The feelings I had at that time are indescribable. It seemed so real to me. I was able to testify of Christ’s message many times to those who had never heard it—that He lives!
I know that Jesus Christ is our Savior and Redeemer. He is the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. He is the way, the truth, and the life. Because of Him I can be with my brother again. Because of Him, I can be with Heavenly Father. This message is what will save the world in the last days. If we have faith in Him, we can receive blessings beyond measure. If we follow Him, we can become like Him.

As I grew older, I learned not only the value of hard work but also about the blessings of doing things that at the time you don’t realize are important and good for you. During World War II, when I was very little, I came down with a lung disease, but no one knew it at the time. I knew that I was easily out of breath when I rode the delivery bicycle. I thought that it was because the cart was heavy. Later, when I joined the air force, I learned that because of that hard work, somehow my body had healed itself. I had built up endurance. I had built up immunity to disease. I had built up strength. When the doctors saw those spots on my lungs, they asked me about them. They said that the disease took care of itself and that I passed my physical. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to become a pilot. I have been a pilot for thirty-five years, and I was a chief pilot for Lufthansa German Air Lines.

Once during a study session, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I asked in a friendly way if my classmates could change the subject. When they refused, I left. I had to do this at every break. Later, they did show some consideration and even some interest. I told them what the Church means to me. Now my classmates do not discuss inappropriate subjects in my presence.
Berendina Jantje Wachtmeester,Apeldoorn Ward, Apeldoorn Netherlands Stake

“Brother Ng,” the man’s voice began. Being addressed as “brother” by a gwailouh (foreigner) caught Ng Kat Hing’s attention. A group of clean-cut Americans wearing dark suits had wandered into the furniture store where he was employed, and their unusual appearance fascinated the 25-year-old Hong Kong native. But he was even more intrigued by being called “brother.”
When Ng Kat Hing questioned them about the title, one of the Americans, who wore a name tag identifying him as President Heaton, asked, “Do you believe there is one Father in Heaven?”
When he nodded, the man continued, “Then we are brothers, and I will call you that.”
Forty-three years later, Brother Ng still recalls his response. “I was touched, and in that moment, a little bit of the restored gospel was manifest to me. I wondered about it all that day and through the night. Four days later when the man called back to confirm the furniture order, I knew I wanted to know more.”
Although Grant Heaton, president of the newly opened Southern Far East Mission, was merely looking for advice about teakwood furniture that August day in 1955, he found much more than that in Ng Kat Hing. He found a language teacher, a convert, a missionary, a Church leader—a true pioneer.
“Brother Ng and his family are real pioneers of the Church in the Hong Kong area,” remarks Elder Jacob de Jager an emeritus member of the Seventy, who, while President of the Asia Area, worked closely with Brother Ng. In fact, Brother Ng was Elder de Jager’s Cantonese teacher. “He has great experience and wisdom and reaches out to people in a natural way. This was especially evident when Brother and Sister Ng were serving as temple missionaries in the Taipei Taiwan Temple, where they were of great help to the Cantonese-speaking members.”
Reaching out to people has always been one of Brother Ng’s talents. In fact, it was his willingness to serve others that put him in even closer contact with the missionaries. After ordering furniture for the mission home, Brother Ng agreed to help President Heaton find someone to teach Cantonese to the missionaries. He talked to several friends, but none of them could help. So he quit his job at the furniture store and taught the missionaries himself. Married and the father of four young children, Brother Ng took a cut in salary with the job change. But he believes it was well worth it.
“I learned the truth,” Brother Ng states simply. “That was a good deal, right? Nothing is more important than that.”
The men took turns learning and teaching. Brother Ng presented basic language lessons, and the missionaries taught gospel discussions. At that time, investigators were taught a total of 18 discussions, so Brother Ng went through several sets of missionaries before hearing all the lessons.
“It took quite a while,” he acknowledges, “but by the time I was baptized, all my questions were answered. I had a strong foundation and a strong testimony.”
Brother Ng was baptized on 31 May 1956. He was one of the first converts after missionary work resumed in Hong Kong following the Korean War.
But Brother Ng’s search for truth had started years earlier. His grandmother, a Buddhist, had begun attending Christian churches shortly before her death, and Brother Ng often accompanied her. “I was looking for a god who was different than the one I’d been taught about while growing up,” he remembers. “But the pastors and preachers at those meetings were difficult to approach, and they were more concerned with donations than with answering my questions.”
Brother Ng’s questions went unanswered until he met the missionaries. “From the beginning, I learned about our Father in Heaven and his son, Jesus Christ. The missionaries taught of our relationship to these beings. And they continually talked of being children of God,” he remembers.
The gospel changed Brother Ng’s life. “My wife tells me I was entirely different after joining the Church,” he says, laughing. “My temper became smooth. My finances were better because I paid tithing. I didn’t worry about food or shelter because I kept the commandments. A happy life followed.”
After seeing the difference the gospel made in her husband’s life, Sister Ng Pang Lai Har also investigated the gospel. Missionaries often visited their home, teaching her husband one of the new member lessons, then teaching her one of the 18 discussions.
Ten months after her husband’s baptism, Sister Ng was baptized. Brother Ng had the privilege of baptizing their seven children as they reached age eight.
Brother Ng’s family is important to him. His dark eyes sparkle as he speaks of the joys of being a husband, father, and grandfather. Highlights of Brother Ng’s life include the temple marriages of all seven children as well as the sealings of each of the children to him and his wife.
“We were not sealed to all our children at once,” he explains. “Traveling to the temple, either in Tokyo or in the United States, was very expensive.” After saving for years, Brother and Sister Ng were sealed in the Provo Temple in 1974. Subsequent temple trips have strengthened the couple’s dedication and commitment to temple work. From 1986 to 1987, they served as missionaries in the Taipei Taiwan Temple.
The high point of their temple service is their most recent calling—president and matron of the Hong Kong Temple, dedicated in May 1996.
“My wife and I were thrilled with the announcement of the temple. We were planning on becoming temple workers, maybe even working three or four times a week,” President Ng says. “We’ll work more than that now!
“I was frightened with the calling at first and very humbled. I had feelings of unworthiness. But after praying, I felt confident that Heavenly Father would give us the spiritual strength and guidance we need to fulfill this calling. We are so grateful for this opportunity.”

Besides being a cast member, Julie Ashton (10) was a pageant guide. Each night before the show began, some cast members, dressed in their costumes, welcomed people to the pageant and handed out programs. She even learned a few greetings in Spanish and was able to visit with Spanish-speaking members of the audience.
One of the scenes Julie especially liked was the one in which Jesus Christ teaches the multitude and performs miracles like raising the sick and the dead. “I loved the song they played, and I loved seeing Jesus smile. It gave me a good feeling inside.”
Her very favorite part of the pageant was the finale. All the cast members went on stage or out on the grass and sang “I Know He Lives!” while Matt Hale, as the Savior, was lifted by wires 40? (12.2 m) above the ground. “I liked that best,” Julie said, “because you were bearing your testimony to the audience. It let them know that you know that He lives. I know He lives because I’ve prayed about it and got a really special feeling in my heart. I know it’s true.”

The wind was howling and shaking the palm trees by the time Grandma’s car reached Ana Luisa’s house. “Grab your things, girls, and go inside,” Grandma said. “I’m going to find some rocks to put behind the car’s tires.”
“Why?” Rebecca asked.
“So maybe the car won’t blow away,” Grandma said.
Rebecca and Sarah looked at each other, their eyes wide.
The girls didn’t remember the last hurricane that had come to Puerto Rico eight years ago, when Sarah was two and Rebecca just one. But they knew that the Arecibo River had flooded their neighborhood and that a lot of houses had been destroyed. Now Hurricane Georges was on the way, and newscasters warned that this hurricane might be even worse.
“So, girls, are you ready for Hurricane Georges?” asked Ana Luisa as they stepped through the front door.
“Brother Soto came to our house this morning and nailed boards on all the windows. Grandma says we need to pray that everything will turn out all right,” Sarah said.
“That’s right,” Ana Luisa said. “Heavenly Father will watch over us.”
Ana Luisa was a friend from their new church. Even though the girls were worried, Ana Luisa’s comforting words and the familiar smell of rice and beans inside her cozy house made them feel better.
The sister missionaries, who had taught Grandma and the girls the gospel just three months ago, were spending the night at Ana Luisa’s, too. “It’s going to be fun,” Sister Lewis, one of the missionaries, told them, “like a party, except with really bad weather.”
For a while it was like a party. They ate dinner, then munched on cookies and listened to the radio. Every once in a while they heard a crash outside. Rebecca and Sarah wondered if Grandma’s car had blown away after all, but it was too dark to see.
Later, the lights flickered and went out. As Rebecca made a funny face in the beam of her flashlight, Grandma said, “Now is probably a good time for bed.”
After they put on their pajamas, Grandma called Sarah and Rebecca back to the living room. “We’re going to say a prayer together,” Grandma said. Sister Lewis asked Heavenly Father to keep them all safe during the hurricane and to protect Rebecca and Sarah’s house. Hearing Sister Lewis pray helped the girls feel calmer.
The next morning, when Sarah cranked open the metal window slats, Ana Luisa’s street looked like it belonged on a different planet. Grandma’s car was still there, but some trees had fallen down, and sheets of metal from people’s roofs were on Ana Luisa’s lawn. Pigeons waddled helplessly down the sidewalk, too heavy with rainwater to fly. “If Ana Luisa’s street looks like this,” Sarah asked Rebecca nervously, “what do you think ours looks like?”
Early that morning Grandma had driven over to check on their house. She finally came back around lunchtime. “The neighborhood is flooded,” she said. “I couldn’t even get near our street.”
Rebecca wanted to cry. Sarah asked, “What do we do now, Grandma?”
“If it’s OK with Ana Luisa, we’ll stay here for a few more days. Maybe by then the water will go down, and we can go home.”
Everyone from church wanted to help Grandma, Rebecca, and Sarah. Ana Luisa cooked dinner for them, and the sister missionaries brought clothes that Sister Lewis’s family had sent. Bishop Espinosa even came to give Grandma a blessing when she was feeling sick. But it was hard not to be in their own house and harder still not to know if their house was even there anymore.
After eight days the streets in their neighborhood were finally clear. Buckled into the backseat of Grandma’s car, Sarah and Rebecca felt a twist of excitement and fear in their stomachs. As they rode, they saw houses with walls that had been blown down. Broken tables, waterlogged mattresses, and mud-crusted refrigerators lay abandoned on the side of the road.
“What if our house is gone?” Rebecca asked.
“Then Heavenly Father will help us find a new one,” Grandma replied.
The streets in their neighborhood were still oozing with thick black mud, so they had to drive very slowly. Finally, Grandma turned the corner onto their street.
“I see it!” Rebecca shouted. “Our house is still there!”
“There’s a hole in the roof,” Sarah pointed out.
Inside, everything smelled musty. The girls leaned their mattresses against the wall to air them out and helped Grandma wipe up the water that had come in through the hole in the roof. “Can we stay here tonight, Grandma?” Rebecca asked.
“I don’t think so. We’ll have to wait a few more nights until we can get the roof fixed.”
Rebecca sighed and sank onto the damp couch. “I wish we could stay.”
“I’m just glad our house is still here,” Sarah said.
“Heavenly Father listened to our prayers,” Grandma said. Then, looking through the doorway, she pointed toward the street. “I think He’s still listening.”
Outside, a large truck with a crane was pulling up. Bishop Espinosa and Brother Soto hopped down, along with some other men from their ward.
“Do you need any help?” the bishop called. “Maybe some people to fix your roof?”
Sarah and Rebecca grabbed hands and squealed. “Does this mean we can stay, Grandma? Can we sleep here tonight?”
Grandma smiled and nodded. “Welcome home, girls.”

The pale yellow light from the lantern Christian Monson carried threw dark, dancing shadows against the gray stone walls of the Fredrikstad (Norway) Prison. Christian hesitated at the heavy oak door that led from the prison office to the cells below. His heart was racing. He knew that if his plan to release the two prisoners was discovered, he would also be made a prisoner here.
Christian felt the cold smoothness of the jailer’s keys, and he felt the weight of irrevocable decision. He drew a long, deep breath, inserted the key in the lock, and turned it; there was the clicking sound of metal. With his free hand he pulled the door open. The air from the cells was dank and fetid—the stench of unwashed men and stale cellar air.
Quietly Christian walked down the stone steps to the long rows of cells that the warden of the prison had placed in his care as a night guard. At the bottom of the steps he stopped and hung the lantern on the hook that protruded from the wall. The light fell bright on his face. It revealed a tall, 14-year-old Norwegian boy with bright, sky-blue eyes and straight, tawny-colored hair. His face was smooth and fair and normally full of laughter and mischief, but in the flickering lantern light it was firm and serious.
Christian walked across the floor to the cell on the far left, inserted the key into the lock, and opened the door.
“Elders!” His voice was soft.
Light fell on two villainous-looking men who were standing near the door and waiting. Both wore shaggy beards and long hair, dark with grease and dirt. Their faces were sallow and pocked with small red sores. Their clothes were filthy and tattered, rotting in the damp air.
In the year he had worked in the prison Christian had seen many men who looked like these two—filthy, rotting men with cold, empty eyes that followed him with hate. But these two were different. Their clothes, their hair, and their skin looked the same as any of the men who had spent several months in the prison. It was in the eyes where Christian had noticed a difference; the eyes of these two were warm and alive and strong.
Elder Hanson smiled and grasped Christian’s shoulder with a powerful hand.
“Father in heaven is pleased with your courage, Christian,” he said.
“We had better hurry,” the other man, Elder Nelson, said, stepping out of his cell. “But let’s pray first.”
Minutes later Christian and the two Mormon elders walked out of the prison. Elder Hanson, a tall barrel-chested man, stopped, stretched out his arms, and in a long, slow breath drank in the cold, clean-tasting night air.
They spoke in whispers as they walked. Then they began walking down the narrow streets toward a rocky point in the fjord.
“Brother Monson, what will your parents do?” Elder Nelson asked.
“I don’t know, Elder Nelson. I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I tried to tell my mother, but she wouldn’t listen. And my father—he’s a proud man, proud of Norway, proud of the Lutheran Church, proud of his own beliefs. My mother might understand, but I’m afraid my father will not even try.”
Christian stopped and faced Elder Nelson, his breath making a white plume in the darkness.
“There’s pain in this truth of yours, Elder Nelson.” He turned and began walking again.
Elder Nelson nodded and pulled his coat tighter against the cold. He well understood the problem. He and Elder Hanson had been put into prison because of that same intolerance.
Christian broke the silence again.
“Many years ago, I was very young at the time, my grandfather told me that there are steps in life that can change my future and the future of entire generations. He told me I should take those steps, carefully, in the direction I believe to be right, no matter how difficult they appear to be. I know this is right.”
They reached the shoreline and walked along it until they came to a small cove. The shoreline was rocky and smelled of the ocean and seaweed.
The three of them walked out into the water. The water felt warm compared to the night air. There was the sound of waves washing gently against the rocks on the shore, soft and rhythmic.
Christian thought back over the past two months, about the long hours he had searched and compared the catechism of his church with the Bible and the teachings of the two elders.
He remembered the warmth deep inside when he found the answers for which he had searched and prayed. With the memory a peaceful feeling washed over his mind, over the pain he felt in the weight of decision.
In the moonlight Elder Hanson raised his arm to the square. In his mind’s eyes Christian could see John the Baptist and Christ in the Jordan River and he could hear Paul speaking on being buried and raised again with Christ. He heard Elder Hanson’s voice and the baptismal prayer. He felt the power of the prayer and a sudden rush of water.
Before the first reds and golds of morning streaked the horizon, the two elders were back in their cell and Christian was at the desk, in the front office of the prison, waiting for the day guard to relieve him. In the quiet stillness of morning he wondered where this step he had taken would lead him, and he wondered how he would tell his parents.

When I was 13, my mother decided to return to her church. I went with her every Sunday for several months and soon joined the church’s youth group. I loved many things about this church, but I always felt like there was something missing. I continued to go until one day at a youth activity the other youth found out I was not a member of the church. The teenagers in the group began shunning me, and I eventually stopped going to church altogether.

Later, in high school, I took a comparative religions course. I learned a lot about many religions and realized there are a lot of good people with the best of intentions. But no religion ever seemed quite right.

I had convinced myself that no church was right and decided to live by my conscience, read the Bible (by this time I had bought my own), and do my best to live in accordance with the teachings of Jesus Christ. After all, no one in my family went to church, and they were all honest, good people.

In May of 2000, after seeing a movie about the life of Jesus Christ, I was so deeply touched that I earnestly prayed to God. I knew if I was patient, while continuing to do my best to follow Christ, I would receive answers to my prayers. I faced many tests in the months that followed. Through these tests, I became better at receiving the Spirit’s promptings.

Later that year I felt I should go to the visitors’ center at the Washington D.C. Temple to see the Christmas lights. I had been to the visitors’ center to see the lights before but had never inquired about the Church or its beliefs.

As I strolled through the visitors’ center, looking at the many displays, I thought of my cousin and another friend who were planning to serve missions for this church. I had studied about many religions but never this one. I was a little curious.

In my head I asked, expecting no answer, “Why in the world would those two men, or anyone for that matter, give up two years to serve missions—and at their own expense?” Much to my surprise, I received a humbling response. The soft whispers of the Spirit pierced my heart as my eyes fell upon a replica of gold plates. I was drawn to them. As I looked at them, I felt a powerful feeling of love, safety, and comfort, and in my mind I heard the words, “These are important. Learn about them.”

Immediately, I found a missionary and asked her about the plates. She told me about Joseph Smith translating the Book of Mormon. She also suggested I meet with the missionaries, but I declined.

The next day I went to the library to read all I could about the plates and the Church. I bought a copy of the Book of Mormon from a used-book store and began reading. I also read about the Church, but I wanted to learn more, so I decided to attend a church meeting.

I knew if I studied and prayed, God would confirm to me that this is the right church. So that’s what I did. I watched and waited patiently. And sure enough, my prayers were answered. On March 25, 2001, I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

This is the Church of Jesus Christ. There are many good churches with many good people, but The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the church of our Lord and Savior, and it is the church with which our Heavenly Father is well pleased (see D&C 1:30). Our Heavenly Father loves us, has a plan for us, and will guide us back to Him if we earnestly seek Him.

Annet Nankumba of Upperhill Ward in Nairobi, Kenya, first learned about BYU–Pathway from her Mission President in Cote d’Ivoire. Due to her low grades in high school, Annet was very nervous about pursuing a university education. A few months after returning from her mission, she decided to enroll in PathwayConnect and began her journey towards a bachelor’s degree. This will make her the first university graduate in her family. “PathwayConnect has been a great blessing for me. One of my first courses taught me about having a growth mindset. Unlike before, I now look at failure as an opportunity to grow,” she said.

Annet further explained, “Someone with a fixed mindset fears failure, gives up so quickly when things get tough, and sees themselves as not smart. To stay focused on my education path, I have to be positive and trust in my Heavenly Father who will help me navigate the challenges.” Annet says she has also learned better financial management, which is helping her in her small business. “I have learned to prioritize payment of tithing, and I now feel my Saviour’s guidance more in my life. I am inspired by the weekly devotionals and institute of religion classes; all this is helping to increase my faith in the Saviour. I know that I can accomplish hard things!”

In Tetonia, Idaho, my grandpa, John Andersen, was asked to put a huge pipeline in the Teton Valley. Grandpa took my dad, Michael John Andersen, who was eight years old then and had just been baptized, with him. At the top of the canyon, there was a truck hooked to a cable. The cable held the pipeline that went down the canyon and over the river to a pump. My grandpa told my dad to stay by a truck and sit on two blocks of wood at the bottom of the canyon while he welded the pipeline over the river.
While my dad was sitting there, the cable suddenly snapped. The pipeline came crashing down the canyon. In the meantime, my dad heard a voice in his mind yell, “Mike, run!” so he ran to the side of the truck. The voice said, “Not beside the truck—behind the truck!” Dad quickly obeyed. The pipeline hit the side of the truck, then turned and hit the blocks of wood he had been sitting on. My dad was unharmed. I know that the Holy Ghost told my dad to move, and I am very glad he obeyed, because if he had not, he wouldn’t be my wonderful daddy today.
Kayla Lyn Andersen, age 12Kaysville, Utah

I was born in the village of Waipahu, Hawaii. My father worked on the pineapple plantation there. My parents were from Okinawa, Japan, and I was brought up in a Buddhist environment. But even though I had never gone to a Christian church, I was always drawn to Christmas. I thought it was a wonderful season, and Christmas drew me to Christianity.
When I was still very young, my family moved to Honolulu. I lost both my parents at a young age. My mother died when I was eighteen months old. Later, in my teens, my father died.
My first contact with the Church came when I was fifteen years old and living with my older brother. One Sunday evening I was listening to my portable radio when I heard the beautiful strains of a choir singing the chorus from Tannhäuser, by Richard Wagner. It was a song I had learned in my junior high school choir, but the quality of this performance was vastly different. I wondered what choir could be singing it. When I heard that it was the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, the word Mormon stuck in my head. I later learned that the announcer for that radio broadcast was Elder Richard L. Evans of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
During the summer, I did odd jobs to earn money. That summer I was working as a service station attendant. A man who worked there was a member of the Church, and he invited me to attend MIA (Mutual). At first I hesitated, but he was persistent, and I finally gave in. The warmth and friendliness of the members and missionaries impressed me, but again the music influenced me most. Their hymns sounded different from any I had ever heard.
When I first started reading the Book of Mormon, it seemed strange to me. The only name in the book that was familiar to me was the name of one of Nephi’s brothers—Sam! But there was a force that drew me to the Book of Mormon. I felt that if I were to become a member of the Church, my life would become much more meaningful.
When I told my older brother that I would like to be baptized, he said, “That would be fine. But if you become a member, you must be a lifetime member. You must commit yourself and be loyal.” I was baptized when I was sixteen.
After high school, I was in the military, and I had the opportunity to have an interview with Elder Harold B. Lee, who was then an Apostle and who later became President of the Church. It was a very precious time for me. For an hour he counseled me to go on a mission, to go to the House of the Lord, and to sustain the leaders of the Church. This same advice applies to every member of the Church.
I never forgot Elder Lee’s advice. I came to Salt Lake City, Utah, on furlough and went to the Salt Lake Temple. After I left the military and went to college, I saved money for a mission. During my mission, I was able to open the Okinawa area, where my father was from, for missionary work. Later, serving as president of the Tokyo Temple, I had the wonderful blessing of seeing many of the Japanese Saints receive their temple endowments. Seeing the joy in the faces of those being sealed was a great blessing.
Boys and girls, prepare yourselves to go to the house of the Lord. Going to the temple will be the greatest thing you can accomplish in your mortal life. In the temple, you can feel the Lord’s presence and know that He is there. You can kneel at the altar and make sacred covenants. The Lord will always keep His part of these covenants. When you keep your part of them, you will receive the greatest gifts, eternal life and exaltation.
You can begin now to prepare yourself spiritually, mentally, and physically by keeping the commandments, by being clean in mind and body, and by being faithful and loyal to our Heavenly Father. If you will do these things, you will be led toward the sacred covenants of the temple. Then you will have peace and be happy, no matter what trials and tribulations you meet.
You can also learn to search your family history so that your ancestors can have the same temple blessings. We will meet them some day and know them as our relatives. All the people of the world will some day have the same privilege. The Lord has many wonderful blessings awaiting us if we just take advantage of them.

At the end-of-the-year basketball banquet, Frankie, Mark, and Jason, seized another opportunity to share their religion. They presented their coach with a gift, a Book of Mormon.
“We hope you’ll hold on to this book like you would hold on to a basketball,” read the inscription from the three boys.
The coach did more than that. Not only did he hold on to the book; he read it and believed it. Not long after he received his gift, he and his family were baptized.

When an airline reservation agent asked a member of the Church for an email address, the member answered, “ldschurch.org.”
“What church is that?” the agent asked.
“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” the member answered.
“I go to work for days at a time without ever being able to speak about the Lord,” the agent said. “Knowing that I am speaking to another Christian just makes my day.”
The Church member quickly updated his airline profile with the Church’s new email address: ChurchofJesusChrist.org.1

When I was 10 years old, I was on a swim team. One day when I was leaving the pool, I noticed something on the ground. It was a wallet. I picked it up and looked inside. There was about $250 in it.
I wanted to keep it and almost decided that I should. But I prayed for Heavenly Father’s help to guide me to the right decision. The Spirit prompted me to take the wallet inside to the front desk. Even though I really wanted the money, I gave the wallet to the lady at the desk, and she thanked me. I’m glad I made the right decision.