Gospel Story Finder

“Are you the one who has been calling my daughter each week?” was the question.
The answer, from Keri Peterson of the Bountiful 29th Ward, Bountiful Utah Central Stake, was simple and direct, “Yes, I’m a captain of ten, and your daughter is on my team.”
“Thank you,” was the response from a grateful father. “Thank you very much.”
The youth of this Bountiful ward were involved in a project called Moroni’s Promise. It came in response to a challenge from Elder M. Russell Ballard given to the youth of the Bountiful 29th Ward to adopt a meaningful and significant project for the year. This challenge was brought before the bishop’s youth committee for discussion. The youth leaders decided that reading the Book of Mormon would surely be a meaningful and significant project.
One Sunday evening, all of the youth and their parents were invited to a meeting to launch Moroni’s Promise. It was the young, valiant captains of ten who gave the vision, reviewed the promise (see Moro. 10:3–5), spoke of agency and obedience, explained the program, and called for volunteers to join one of their teams.
One young captain of ten, Michelle Gardner, referred to the promise made by President Gordon B. Hinkley to all the members of the Church who read the Book of Mormon. He promised those who read daily that “there will come into your lives and into your homes an added measure of the Spirit of the Lord, a strengthened resolution to walk in obedience to his commandments, and a stronger testimony of the living reality of the Son of God” (Ensign, Nov. 1979, p. 9).
Appealing to the youth for whom she now felt a keen sense of responsibility, she added her own personal testimony. “I know when I read each day, especially when I study and don’t just skim over what I’m reading, I do feel a greater desire to live the commandments and to have the Spirit of the Lord in my life.”
Individualized packets were provided which included the quote from Moroni printed on parchment ready for framing, a system for recording progress, recommended target dates, helpful study methods, a promise of celebration stations, and a letter to be sent to a trusted friend or relative requesting support and continuous encouragement during the coming months as they read the Book of Mormon. An application form was also provided requesting the parent’s signature as well as the signature of a member of the bishopric.
Each participant was invited to add his or her own signature as an indication of willingness to be diligent in endeavoring to reach the goal of having read the entire Book of Mormon within the set time limit. This could be accomplished by reading approximately 16 pages per week. A captain of ten also signed the application indicating a willingness to be in touch each week to determine progress and provide encouragement to each member of his or her team.
Individual progress was not a public matter. However, increased interest was awakened when the aggregate “scores” of the teams were recorded on an attractive chart that was periodically displayed in the chapel foyer with pictures of various activities.
As eager participants finished the last verse of Alma 63, “And thus ended the account of Alma,” they would rush, regardless of the hour, to Sister Bonnie Guthrie, who helped with the records, assisted in making calls for captains as needed, and dispensed T-shirts to each one finishing the book of Alma. The T-shirts with “STOMP” (for “Students Trying Out Moroni’s Promise”) printed in bold letters across the front provided the incentive that urged many through the pages of Alma.
A celebration station was an event scheduled at regular intervals along the way to give strong incentives and provide continuous encouragement to the captains, who in turn, inspired their team members as they made their weekly contacts. The captains were to then give an accounting to the specialist in a brief weekly meeting following sacrament meeting. Many, many extra calls at various times were required to accomplish this necessary follow-up.
As the group completed Alma, a celebration station was scheduled. The snow had been falling all night, and it was unseasonably cold, but nothing would daunt the plans for the scheduled tree planting celebration. A flowering cherry tree had been selected. The hole was dug, and all ward members were invited to gather at the church.
Robert Davis stood before the group holding a scroll containing all the names of those who at that time had finished reading Alma. He rolled the scroll, put it in a plastic-coated container, sealed it, and then respectfully placed it in the hole at the base of the tree and explained, “You’re probably wondering why we are planting a tree. If you will recall in Alma the planting of a seed which became a tree has meaning because of the analogy to a growing testimony.” He then read Alma 32:27–41, “But if ye will nourish the word, yea, nourish the tree as it beginneth to grow, by your faith with great diligence, and with patience, looking forward to the fruit thereof, it shall take root; and behold it shall be a tree springing up unto everlasting life.”
On Mother’s Day following sacrament meeting, the entire ward was invited to gather around the flagpole for yet another celebration station. Richard Newman and Mike Bettilyon, both captains of ten, unfolded the beautifully designed flag with the large dark blue letters “Moroni’s Promise” centered in a white open field.
There were other names on that flag also. Those who had finished the Book of Helaman had added their signatures to the flag as an official Mother’s Day record. Bishop Bradford reminded everyone of the stripling warriors who did not fear death for they had been taught by their mothers that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them (see Alma 56:47). The captains attached the flag and pulled the ropes raising it to the very top of the long silver pole. Hearts were opened and feelings were tender as expressed by a younger member of the group, who whispering to a friend close by, said, “My name is on that flag,” and his friend responded reverently, “So is mine.”
By now the flowering cherry tree planted earlier was bursting into bloom nearby as a reminder of growing testimonies.
What difference has all this effort made? There have been 120 readers, 38 adults and 82 youth, participating in Moroni’s Promise.
Thirteen-year-old Wid Covey, standing before an audience, volunteered his testimony, “I’m thankful for this Moroni’s Promise program because it helps me understand the scriptures. When I sit down with my dad to read the Book of Mormon he helps me understand about it also. I’m thankful for Michelle Gardner. She calls me every week, and it helps me a lot and she encourages me.”
Sister Margaret Kirkham reported, “Our whole family looks forward to Richard Newman, our captain of ten, coming to encourage us. This project has been a great influence to our entire family.”
Bishop Bradford reflected on the past eight months. “It has made a great difference. There are few activities that could have unified our youth as well as this. I can’t say that all our youth now have a strong personal testimony of the Book of Mormon, but it’s a super beginning. With the help of our inspired specialist, a great number of young people will be better missionaries in every aspect of their lives, and all of them are better prepared to withstand the evils of the world.”

A good friend shared this story about how she learned the deeper meaning of love. Their family has always been active in the Church, trying their best to live the commandments. They were shocked and disappointed, however, when their daughter became engaged to a nonmember. The next day the mother was telling a good friend about her feelings. She knew her daughter’s fiancee was a fine young man, but she felt angry, hurt, betrayed, and numb and did not want to give her daughter a wedding or even see her. She said that the Lord must have guided her to talk to her friend because she received this reply:
“What kind of a mother are you that you only love her when she does what you want her to do? That is selfish, self-centered, qualified love. It’s easy to love our children when they are good; but when they make mistakes, they need our love even more. We should love and care for them no matter what they do. It doesn’t mean we condone or approve of the errors, but we help, not condemn; love, not hate; forgive, not judge. We build them up rather than tear them down; we lead them, not desert them. We love when they are the most unlovable, and if you can’t or won’t do that, you are a poor mother.”
With tears streaming down her face, the mother asked her friend how she could ever thank her. The friend answered, “Do it for someone else when the need arises. Someone did it for me, and I will be eternally grateful.”

My wife, Everjoyce, and I are from the small town of Mutare, on the eastern border of Zimbabwe. Soon after we were baptized and confirmed, we became excited about doing missionary work. We read that “the field is white already to harvest” (D&C 33:7), and even though we didn’t know a lot about how to be missionaries, we decided we needed to “thrust in [our] sickles, and reap with all [our] might, mind, and strength.”
We were members of the newly created Dangamvura Branch located in one of the townships of Mutare. At that time, 1991, the branch had 25 members. Soon we were called as branch missionaries. We learned a lot from a senior missionary couple serving in our area. One suggestion they made was that we set goals.
We wanted to share the gospel with everyone, so we set the goal of sharing it with 100 people during the first year we were branch missionaries. Maybe we were naïve, but it seemed realistic to us. We trusted that the Lord would help us.
By singing hymns at Church meetings, we discovered that we had a hidden talent for music. We decided to use our talents, so we started singing for—and with—people who showed interest in the gospel as we met to teach them. The Spirit accompanied us as we sang sacred music, and He touched the hearts of those we were teaching. So did the message of the restored gospel. We encouraged everyone to join our branch choir, and many did, whether they were Latter-day Saints or not. As more people learned about the gospel, many entered the waters of baptism.
As we continued our missionary efforts, we continued to fast and pray for the families who had joined the Church. We felt that others in the community were witnessing these families’ righteous examples. We received more and more invitations to teach families, and our teaching pool filled with prospective members.
As a result of learning and living the gospel, newly baptized couples became closer and more loving. Parents were able to leave behind traditions that were not compatible with gospel culture. They abstained from alcohol and tobacco. They taught their children correct principles. Many who had been overly absorbed in worldly things in the past were now able to accept callings in the Church. They became a blessing to their branch and their community. The hand of the Lord brought a mighty change to their lives.
With the Lord’s help, we ended up sharing the gospel with many more than our original goal. Because we were willing to look for ways we could reach out to others, we were able to witness a mighty change in the lives of many in our whole community.

I met Anthony a long time ago. We had just moved into the area. I went to this new school and started to make friends. Anthony was one of them. We were maybe six or seven years old. It’s funny to think about that, now that I am 26.
We were playing a game called Pog. It’s a game we play in France—I don’t know if it’s played elsewhere. While we were playing, Anthony tried to swipe one or two of my game pieces. Suddenly, we started to fight. Our teacher had to pull us apart. After that, I think we appreciated each other more. We started doing things together—playing video games, skateboarding, and cycling. Little by little, we began to spend more and more time together.
My mother always wanted our family to pray. It was part of our practice at home. Same thing with reading scriptures too. These things were ingrained in us. One night I slept over at Anthony’s place. As I prayed before bed, Anthony saw me and asked what I was doing. I don’t remember what I said exactly; I just remember we were in his room and we talked about prayer.
Anthony came a few times to my house, and he saw us read the scriptures, ask a blessing before eating, and pray as a family. He saw us sing hymns together too. I asked him once or twice to come to church. I must have seen from his reaction that he wasn’t too excited about the idea of coming to church. I told myself, “Well that’s it, I guess, and it’s too bad, but we’ll just continue to be buddies.”
Anthony:
At first I was a little distant about the Church. I didn’t understand much, and I was a bit afraid to speak with Cayo about how his family gathered together for prayer. So in the beginning I didn’t respond to invitations. But little by little, I felt good. I felt in my heart that Cayo’s family was different from other families.
Cayo:
Eventually we both moved on to other things. We lost track of each other several times over the years, but we would always bump into each other again. When we were teenagers, we became close friends again.
Anthony:
I could see that Cayo was different from my other friends. We all do dumb things as we’re growing up, but Cayo helped me choose a good path.
Cayo:
Anthony started to come to church with my family. Then things evolved naturally, the missionaries spent a lot of time with us, and Anthony became quite familiar with the Church. He knew what prayer was, he knew the hymns, he knew all that—he was just not a member.
Anthony:
From age 8 to age 18, I reflected a lot about getting baptized. But it took me a long time because I had a lot of things I needed to change in my life, even though I tried to live good principles.
At the age of 18, I met the missionaries in Cayo’s home. The missionaries taught me the lessons to prepare me for baptism. They helped me, and their message touched my heart. During this time, my mother and my little sister were introduced to the missionaries. They were baptized a few months before I was. I was baptized on March 10, 2007.
Cayo:
It took the time that it took, more than 10 years, but finally he was baptized.
It’s interesting to see how the Lord does things. After that, I went on a mission in France and we wrote to each other. Now we’re going to be separated because Anthony just became a gendarme [policeman], and he will leave to work for two to five years in Guyana, but I’m sure we’re going to stay in touch.
Anthony:
Since I joined the Church, I do what is required to stay on the strait path and to share the gospel with those around me. It’s something that’s very simple, but the gospel can be difficult for others to accept and to live. As members of the Church, we are truly different from others.
Other members of my family had trouble seeing why my mother, my sister, and I get ready for church every Sunday. I get dressed in my suit and leave at 8:30 to be to church by 9:00, and I often stay until 3:00 in the afternoon because of my calling. I enjoy visiting with other members and finding out what’s going on in their lives. I like being able to participate with the members; it’s exceptional. It’s important to have people around us who are members, to have unity, and to feel like we’re strengthening each other.
Cayo:
I believe the Lord does everything He can so we can truly, honestly, and deeply change. Becoming a Latter-day Saint and a disciple of Christ is not just a question of deciding to adopt certain attitudes; it is to witness a profound change in ourselves. I saw that change in Anthony.
Anthony:
Knowing I have a Heavenly Father comforts me. It also comforts me to know that He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to die for us—for me.
But, in any case, I know it’s true. I also know the scriptures are true. The Book of Mormon is true. I’m convinced of it. The Church is true. We have a true prophet, Thomas S. Monson. The Twelve Apostles are truly called of God.
That’s something I didn’t understand before, and I think that, even today, I don’t understand it completely. It’s very powerful and it’s unique as an emotion.
Cayo Sopi (left) and Anthony Linat (right) walk through their neighborhood in the suburbs of Paris, France. They have been friends since childhood.
“As we got to be closer friends, I could see that Cayo was different from my other friends,” Anthony remembers. Over time, Cayo’s example helped Anthony to become more interested in the restored gospel.
Cayo and Anthony plan on staying in touch after Anthony moves to Guyana.
“Since I joined the Church,” Anthony says, “I do what is required to stay on the strait path and to share the gospel with those around me.” Sharing the gospel is “something that’s very simple,” he says.
Cayo remains grateful for the opportunity he had to share the gospel with his friend. “I believe the Lord does everything He can so we can truly, honestly, and deeply change,” Cayo says. “I saw that change in Anthony.”
Anthony says finding the gospel has been a blessing in his life. “Knowing I have a Heavenly Father comforts me,” he says. “It also comforts me to know that He sent His Son, Jesus Christ.”
“It’s interesting to see how the Lord does things,” Cayo says. It took more than 10 years for Anthony to be baptized, but in that time, Anthony gained a strong testimony.

How does someone with a degree in recreational therapy and 10 years of experience in the mental health field end up opening a dessert shop selling colorful brownies, blondies, and ice cream?
For Molly Kohrman, the answer is simple. In 2017 she took a 12-week Self-Reliance Services course on how to start and grow your own business. That course gave her the courage to pursue a dream.
“I did pastry school in Washington, D.C., and I went to culinary school in Utah,” she says. “When my stake said they were going to do self-reliance classes, I thought, ‘Maybe I should look into this. I’ve always wanted to have my own business. I’ve done other business classes. It wouldn’t hurt to learn more.’”
The course was different from any other business or pastry class Molly had taken. What made it unique, she says, was the presence of the Holy Ghost and the spirit of camaraderie among course members.
“The business discussions were good and helpful,” she says, “but it was the spiritual side tied into the business discussions that made the biggest difference for me.”
“I went through an inner turmoil,” Molly says. “I wondered if using all of my savings, time, and energy to start a business would really be the best use of my resources when, at the time, I was working in suicide prevention.”
During her first class, Molly and other attendees discussed the Lord’s desire that His Saints be successful and choose a livelihood that brings them joy. She asked the group, “How do you reconcile using the talents you’ve been given for weighty matters versus using your talents for something you just want to do?”
As the group discussed her question, Molly realized that she wouldn’t just be selling brownies. If her business proved successful, she would be employing people, she would have financial resources to donate to worthy causes, and, once her work hours slowed down, she could return to social work as a volunteer.
“It took me until that discussion to really understand. It didn’t sink in until I was in a room full of like-minded people,” she says. “We were all at different stages of the business process and at different stages of life, but the Spirit was there, and it definitely guided our discussion—in every class. I realized that if having my own business was really what I wanted, then Heavenly Father would support me.”
About halfway through her 12-week course, Molly began baking and sharing brownies with the 10 members of her self-reliance group.
“They weren’t mad at all about that, and some of them had really good feedback,” she says. “I started trying different flavors, frostings, and compositions. By the end of the class, I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to do.”
Molly says it was vital to get together weekly with her group, hold each other accountable for weekly commitments, learn how and whom to ask for help, and direct each other to needed resources.
“During the whole time we were together, I felt blessed and supported by the people in my group,” she says. “The class helped me become aware of all the things I had to figure out.”
After opening her brownie shop in the fall of 2018, Molly quickly discovered that running a business takes more time than she had imagined. But a principle she remembers from her self-reliance class continues to bless her.
“We discussed how we’re going to have extreme demands on our time, but it will make a difference if we set aside time for the Spirit,” she says. “I have found that to be true. If I am suddenly feeling overwhelmed and stressed, I listen to the scriptures or a general conference talk while I’m working alone in the morning, and it eases my mind and gives me peace.”
That sense of peace, coupled with excited, happy, satisfied customers, keeps Molly going—even after long workdays.
“I could not have started this business without Heavenly Father’s help,” she says. “And without the help and support of many other people, it just wouldn’t have been possible. This is such a great opportunity. I’ve wanted to do it for so long.”
And thanks to her self-reliance class, “I’ve been blessed with the chance to try.”

Wise parents see in every need of others a way to bring blessings into the lives of their sons and daughters. Three children recently carried containers holding a delicious dinner to our front door. Their parents knew that we needed help, and they included their children in the opportunity to serve us.
The parents blessed our family by their generous service. By their choice to let their children participate in the giving, they extended blessings to their future grandchildren. The smiles of the children as they left our home made me confident that will happen. They will tell their children of the joy they felt giving kindly service for the Lord. I remember that feeling of quiet satisfaction from childhood as I pulled weeds for a neighbor at my father’s invitation. Whenever I am invited to be a giver, I remember and believe the lyrics “Sweet is the work, my God, my King.”2
I know those lyrics were written to describe the joy that comes from worshipping the Lord on the Sabbath. But those children with the food at our door were feeling on a weekday the joy of doing the Lord’s work. And their parents saw the opportunity to do good and spread joy over generations.

President Heber J. Grant (1856–1945), seventh President of the Church, told of how President Taylor resolved a quarrel between two friends:
“These men had quarreled over some business affairs, and finally concluded that they would try to get President John Taylor to help them adjust their difficulties. …
“… They … asked [President Taylor] if he would listen to their story and render his decision. President Taylor willingly consented. But he said: ‘Brethren, before I hear your case, I would like very much to sing one of the songs of Zion for you.’
“Now President Taylor was a very capable singer, and interpreted sweetly and with spirit, our sacred hymns. He sang one of our hymns to the two brethren. Seeing its effect, he remarked that he never heard one of the songs of Zion but that he wanted to listen to one more, and so asked them to listen while he sang another. Of course, they consented. They both seemed to enjoy it; and, having sung the second song, he remarked that he had heard there is luck in odd numbers and so with their consent he would sing still another, which he did. Then, in his jocular way, he remarked: ‘Now brethren, I do not want to wear you out, but if you will forgive me, and listen to one more hymn, I promise to stop singing, and will hear your case.’
“The story goes that when President Taylor had finished the fourth song, the brethren were melted to tears, got up, shook hands, and asked President Taylor to excuse them for having called upon him, and for taking up his time. They then departed without his even knowing what their difficulties were.”18

Percy Peacock and his friends lived in the garden of the finest castle in the land. On sunny days people loved to stand outside the castle gate and watch the peacocks.
Percy and his friends held their heads high and strutted around the garden. Sometimes they spread their tail feathers to make colorful fans of orange, gold, green, and blue.
The people clapped their hands. “How lovely!” they cried. “What beautiful colors!”
“It’s true,” Percy said to his friends. “We peacocks are the finest, most beautiful of all birds. Just to prove that’s true,” he added, “let’s have a contest to show which bird is the finest of all. We are sure to win.”
The other peacocks all agreed that it was a splendid idea.
“Each bird must bring seeds, nuts, and berries for the prize,” said Percy. “I’m tired of eating the same old castle food.”
Percy and his friends practiced their proudest walks. They spread their tail feathers, walked down to the lake, and admired their reflections in the water.
On the day of the contest, birds came from many lands. There were small ones and large ones. Some birds squawked and others sang. There were yellow birds, red birds, blue birds, and birds of many colors.
Percy had never seen so many birds.
“There is still no bird as fine as we are,” he told his friends. “Look how fat that one is.”
“Yes, and those others are so plain,” ridiculed another peacock.
All day birds flew into the garden. Soon prize baskets were full of corn, wheat, rice, and nuts. Others were overflowing with plums, cherries, and berries.
“What a feast!” declared the peacocks.
When the robin came, she asked, “Who is the judge?”
“Oh, dear!” said Percy. “I forgot about that.”
An old owl sat nearby. “I will be the judge,” he offered.
That was fine with Percy. “I have heard that owls are very wise,” he said. To himself Percy muttered, “Owls are drab and brown and not beautiful at all.”
So all the birds flew before the judge. They flapped their wings and sang their best songs. A white swan glided on the silver lake. Parrots flashed their bright wings. Eagles soared high above the oak tree.
Last of all were the peacocks. They walked proudly and turned all around so that the judge could admire their colorful tails.
Percy anxiously clicked his beak as he passed the prize baskets. Then he shouted, “Now announce who the winner is!”
All the birds stood around the owl. The owl looked at Percy. He cleared his throat. “It is true that you peacocks have beautiful tail feathers,” he said. “But you are not modest like the robin or sensible like the sparrow. You don’t have the nightingale’s sweet song or the swan’s fine manners. You are not as fast as the hummingbird or as friendly as the canary.”
“Then who won?” asked the parrot.
“No one and everyone,” the owl said wisely. “Each of you is special. Each can learn from the other.”
For once Percy had nothing to say.
Then all the birds asked one another, “If no one won, who gets the prize?”
“All of us,” said the sparrow. “We will share.”
And that is what they did.

During my mission, whenever I felt discouraged or thought I couldn’t go on, I prayed for help. So I knew I could rely on Heavenly Father again to help me adjust to this new life transition.
I got the impression that I needed to serve. Service had always helped me feel like I had a purpose. I went to see my bishop and told him about my desire to serve. He called me to be the Young Women secretary.
A few months later, I told Heavenly Father I wanted to progress and learn more in my life, and I asked for His help. The very next day, I was called as second counselor in the stake Primary presidency.
Being able to serve the young women and the children in Primary really helped me adapt to life after my mission. I was able to focus on helping them turn toward the Savior instead of focusing on my challenges. Over time, adjusting became easier as I strived to serve.

With that intricate process in mind, imagine the work that goes into creating a massive stained glass mural depicting Christ’s mortal ministry, because that is exactly what Tom and Gayle Holdman of Provo, Utah, USA, and a team of artists, designers, and models miraculously accomplished in less than a year. The finished product is displayed in the Rome Italy Temple Visitors’ Center and is absolutely breathtaking.
In the beginning, plans for the Rome Temple Visitors’ Center included a video wall, but the idea was canceled, which made an opening for the stained glass window to be placed there. A scene was drafted for the window; then actors in costumes were brought in to pose for it, allowing artists to create concept art for the window.
“We kept feeling more and more impressed to go with a certain concept design,” Brother Holdman says. “We ended up doing an intricate sketch of the whole picture so we could capture the emotion of the actors.” After the final sketch was created, Tom was able to begin working with the glass.
The window depicts the Savior and His Twelve Apostles during His earthly ministry. It is placed strategically at the center of the visitors’ center so it will be the first thing visitors see as they walk in the building. Then as visitors walk around to the other side of the window, they can see the marble statues of the Christus and the original Twelve Apostles.
One of the many beauties this stained glass window contains is that it does not depict just one scene from the Lord’s earthly ministry. In what appears to be a single scene at first glance, Jesus Christ and the Twelve Apostles are in the midst of characters and symbols that represent events and people from the Lord’s earthly ministry as well as each parable He taught. The Holdmans are excited for visitors to see the piece and to find and point out their favorite stories about Christ.
The depiction of the woman by the well is especially intricate. She represents more accounts than just the woman at the well; she is reaching out to the Savior as the woman with the issue of blood did, and the stones next to her symbolize the woman accused of committing adultery who was brought to be stoned.
“The woman at the well is one of my favorite parts of this window because she represents so many different women from the New Testament,” says Sister Holdman. “Each of those women had a different outward need, but ultimately they all just needed to be healed. Their stories and faith truly testify to me, and hopefully to many visitors, of the Savior’s healing power.”
One of the Holdmans’ highest hopes is that their stained glass will be a useful missionary tool at the visitors’ center. “This whole piece was created to be a visual testimony of Christ,” Sister Holdman explains. The artwork includes symbols and elements of Christ’s birth, Crucifixion, Atonement, Resurrection, and many more symbols of Him.
“We included imagery that exists within other Christian religions like the cross and the crown of thorns so it can possibly create a spark of recognition and allow investigators and missionaries to build on common beliefs,” says Brother Holdman. “This whole window shows that what is important to them is important to us. It shows that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is a Christian church. I hope this will help people fully understand that.”
After working tirelessly to complete this miraculous project in less than a year, Brother and Sister Holdman have been humbled and overjoyed in seeing this beautiful piece of artwork come together. “The artwork really allows you to see how all the stories of Christ’s ministry overlay and interweave and also relate to us today,” says Sister Holdman. “We’re not much different from those who lived in Christ’s day because we need Him and His teachings just as much as they did.”
“We specifically crafted and designed this piece so that all of the lines of glass point to the heart of the Savior at the center of the piece,” Brother Holdman explains. “From the buildings to the height of the people, everything in this artwork points back to Him.”

For my sixth birthday, I got some money from my friends and family. I put some of it in my mission-fund bank account, and my mummy gave me some of it to spend. My sister and I went to the toy shop, and she saw a toy that she wanted but did not have any money. So I spent my birthday money and bought the toy for my sister. I love my sister, and I know that Heavenly Father is happy when we sacrifice for one another.

Photograph by Allison Oberg
Sister Rachael Oberg was originally called to the Canada Montreal Mission speaking French. She was excited to serve the Lord but came home due to health reasons after serving for six months.
Sister Oberg was sad to leave her mission in Canada, but she felt prompted to continue her service and move forward with faith. Service missionaries live with immediate or extended family members, so Sister Oberg moved home with her parents and worked with her stake president to transfer to the Oregon Portland Mission, in the area where she lives.
When Sister Oberg served as a teaching missionary in Canada, she felt that she was the voice of the Lord as she taught the Savior’s gospel to others. Now, as a service missionary, she tries to serve as the hands of the Lord.
Sister Oberg said one challenge facing service missionaries “is having that sense of fulfillment in what you do and knowing that it is enough and that Heavenly Father is proud of you.”
Her approach? “It’s about that mindset shift I tried to have. You are serving someone in the hopes that you can become their friend. You are learning how to love other children of God.”
“You are serving someone in the hopes that you can become their friend.”
Under the direction of her mission leader, Sister Oberg has been able to serve in the Portland Oregon Temple, the temple’s visitors’ center, a senior center, and food pantries.
Sister Oberg shared that teaching missions and service missions, though different, are “one and the same. They are both the work. They are both bringing others to … Jesus Christ.”
One of the biggest lessons Sister Oberg’s parents learned from watching her missionary experience is that the Lord has a pattern. “He asks us to do things that are full of surprises and learning opportunities,” said Sister Oberg’s mother, “and when we do them with our whole heart, the outcome is the same: increased trust in our Savior and an increased ability to feel His love for ourselves and those we are serving.”

As a young missionary serving in the Central States Mission, Elder Kimball was traveling on a train to Chicago, Illinois, when a man approached him.
Man: Hey there, young fellow. I have a book that I think you’ll like.
It was a vulgar book filled with obscene pictures. Spencer wouldn’t touch it.
Elder Kimball: You are wrong, sir. That book does not appeal to me.
The man tried a different approach.
Man: Come into the city with me. I’ll show you where you can have a good time.
Elder Kimball: Absolutely not. I am a representative of Jesus Christ, and I will not follow where you go.
The man realized that the young missionary was in earnest and finally left him alone. Spencer recorded in his journal that he could feel himself blush for an hour.
Elder Kimball: Oh, how hard Satan, through his imps, tries to lead young people astray.I thank the Lord that I had the power to resist.

It was an overcast morning in December 1973, but the weather did not reflect my mood. Standing on the deck of a cargo vessel with my parents and two younger siblings, I was in high spirits as we began to pull away from our small South Pacific island. The ship was the Uluilakeba, bound for Suva, the capital of the Fiji Islands.
For a 12-year-old boy from the outer island of Ono-i-Lau, a trip to the big city was no everyday experience. Along with my parents and two of my siblings, I had eagerly awaited this day. The five of us were traveling to Suva to be baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
At long last, after we had spent nearly two years planning and preparing, the day had finally come, and we stood aboard the Uluilakeba. Energy was thick in the air as we crowded on with the other passengers. Hope and excitement filled our hearts as we waited to depart on our journey.
The ship left the dock at approximately 8:00 a.m. on Monday, 10 December 1973. With all the emotions of that day, I hardly noticed the gusty winds and threatening clouds that loomed ahead. As the boat crawled into the open sea, however, the weather worsened. Soon forecasts came in of an approaching tropical storm. Despite the warnings, our captain was confident of a safe voyage. We continued onward, while around us the sea steadily grew fiercer and the rain fell harder. Before long all passengers were instructed to take shelter inside, while the crew navigated the rough waters.
The captain was a relative of my father, and he gave us his personal cabin to rest in while we endured the storm. There we huddled together as a family and waited. In spite of the now heavy rocking of the ship, after a few minutes, my brother and sister and I fell asleep.
After what seemed only an instant to me, we were awakened by my mother’s scream. Water was now coming in through a small porthole. Sitting up, I noticed that my father was not with us, and thinking he must have gone on deck, I left my mother and two siblings. Climbing up to the deck was quite difficult, although in my panic I did not realize why. I did not understand that the ship had taken too much water and was sinking. Just as I reached the deck, the Uluilakeba began to capsize, and I was plunged into angry waters.
My only instinct was for survival. Desperately I swam with all my strength to stay on top of the monstrous waves. Within a few minutes, I caught sight of an older man holding fast to two floating bags of coconuts. Managing to swim to him, I pleaded for a bag, and he mercifully gave me one. I took hold of the bag and clung to it for my life.
Minutes passed, and suddenly I spotted my mother. Seeing me as well, she swam over and we embraced. With words I will never forget, she told me to hold on to that bag no matter what, for it would save my life. Then, after kissing my cheek, she left me to search for my brother and sister. That was the last I ever saw of my mother.
As the storm continued to rage, I did not think about what had happened. I only fought to stay above the waves. Bobbing up and down in the sea, I could see many other people, but I could not find my family.
The hours stretched on like a terrible dream. Soon night fell, and we swam on in the darkness. After what seemed like forever, the sun rose again, and I held on through another day and another night. Finally, around 5:00 in the afternoon on Wednesday, a rescue boat discovered us.
More than two full days had passed. Of the approximately 120 passengers who had boarded the doomed ship, 35 were found alive in the water. We were taken to Suva and admitted to the hospital. There, I learned the details of what had happened. Less than four hours after leaving the dock, we had been struck by Cyclone Lottie, a short-lived Pacific storm. The Uluilakeba was never found. I also learned that of the five members of my family who had been aboard, I was the only survivor. My family’s plans to be baptized into the Church had sunk in the depths of the ocean.

Perhaps you have all heard the story, and it is just a story, of the insensitive man who held two season tickets to the basketball games at the local university. His wife died, and a day or two later he went to the game. The seat previously occupied by his wife was empty. Someone said, “Those seats of yours must be very expensive. Couldn’t you find a member of the family to come and sit in your wife’s seat?” The man answered, “No, they couldn’t come. They’ve all gone to her funeral.”

You may feel that upward pull. I did one afternoon when I came to understand, as I hadn’t before, how much I need the Atonement, what I could do to make it work in my life, and what evidence I could have that it was working.
It was the hour of a devotional at BYU–Idaho. I wasn’t the speaker; I was sitting there, just behind and to the right of the speaker. I’ve still got the book that I held that day. It still has the words in the margins that I wrote then.
In my memory, the room that afternoon was almost as light as the sunshine and as warm. The speaker was Elder A. Theodore Tuttle. I suppose there was a spotlight on his face. Stages always seem light when you’re on them. But the brightness was in more than what I saw. It was inside me that day. I think it happened because I walked into that room with the yearning President McKay says will come to everyone. And for me that day it was irresistible; I was in the right place with the right preparation.
I will give you the few scriptures that have made the most difference—all the difference for me—in knowing how to reach for that something better you and I sometimes feel drawing us up.
The first is not in the margin but is from the 19th section of the Doctrine and Covenants. On the bottom, in capital letters, is written: REPENTANCE. And then an arrow leads to a notation that reads: “Greek word. To have a new mind.” I heard it that day with new meaning.
“Therefore I command you to repent—repent, lest I smite you by the rod of my mouth, and by my wrath, and by my anger, and your sufferings be sore—how sore you know not, how exquisite you know not, yea, how hard to bear you know not.
“For behold, I, God, have suffered these things for all, that they might not suffer if they would repent;
“But if they would not repent they must suffer even as I” (vv. 15–17).
As he read those words that day, I felt the overwhelming suffering of the Savior. And then two things dawned on me. First, if I could not repent to qualify for His Atonement for my sins, I must suffer to the limit of my power to suffer. And, second, with all the requisite suffering of my own, with all I could bear, it would still not be enough. I would still be forever shut out of the only place where there will be the warmth of family, the family of my Heavenly Father whom I have loved and whom I miss, and that of my family here. Somehow I had gotten the idea that the choice was between repenting or not. And then I realized that whatever pain repentance might bring in this life, it was certainly no more than the pain I would face if I did not repent here, and yet that later pain could not lift me home. It could not bring the mercy I needed.
A determination flowed into me both to stay as far as I could from sin and to gain a confidence that my sins were being remitted. In that moment, the penalty for taking chances with sin or with forgiveness loomed larger than I had ever imagined it could. I wanted with all my heart to know both that the Atonement was curing the effects of sin in me and that I was being strengthened against future sin. I wanted confidence whereas before I had been content with hope.
First, I have never forgotten the voice of Elder Tuttle after he read this description of suffering for sin from section 19 of the Doctrine and Covenants:
“Which suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit—and would that I might not drink the bitter cup, and shrink” (v. 18).
It was about there where I wrote these words: “Teach the people repentance hurts.” I bear you my testimony that you must never believe the lie that there is no pain from sin. You can be forgiven. The Atonement is real. True faith in the Atonement of Jesus Christ, rather than leading you to try a little sin, will lead you to stay as far away from it as you can.

I had a problem with overeating. My repeated bouts of gorging resulted in a harrowing mass of guilt, frustration, and disappointment. I felt so weak when I tried to overcome my problem.
For a long time I neglected the fact that the Savior’s Atonement not only saves us but also redeems us and perfects us, and that this even applies to my obviously imperfect habit of overeating.
I decided to give myself to my Savior. I prayed. I sincerely admitted my weakness and my need for grace, and then I asked Heavenly Father to bless me with His divine assistance in the upcoming day. That night I felt the assurance of a loving Father that He had the immeasurable desire to help His son and the unquestionable power to fulfill His will.
Since that night, food no longer has the same overwhelming influence over me. I know Jesus Christ is the reason for my success. Just like Paul, I am learning that “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13). And I’m trying to never forget another lesson from Paul: “Thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:57).

One of my nieces recently shared with me four notebooks my mother had filled with notes as she prepared to teach her class in Relief Society. I would imagine these notebooks—and there are others I have not yet examined—represent hundreds of hours of preparation by my mother.
Mother was a great teacher who was diligent and thorough in her preparation. I have distinct memories of the days preceding her lessons. The dining room table would be covered with reference materials and the notes she was preparing for her lesson. There was so much material prepared that I’m sure only a small portion of it was ever used during the class, but I’m just as sure that none of her preparation was ever wasted. How can I be sure about this? As I flipped through the pages of her notebooks, it was as if I were hearing my mother teach me one more time. Again, there was too much in her notebooks on any single topic to ever share in a single class session, but what she didn’t use in her class she used to teach her children.
I believe it is even safe to say that while my mother was an enormously effective teacher among the sisters at Relief Society, her best teaching occurred with her children in the home. Of course, this was largely due to the greater amount of time she had to teach her children compared to teaching the Relief Society sisters, but I also like to think she prepared so thoroughly, first, to be an example to her children of diligent Church service and, second, because she recognized that what she learned from preparing her lessons could be used repeatedly for a higher purpose—teaching her sons and her daughters.

“I am going to shovel Sister Gourdin’s sidewalk,” Phoebe said to her mother. Sister Gourdin was an elderly neighbor.
“Can you do it by yourself?” Mom asked Phoebe. When Phoebe said she could, her mother helped her put on her boots and zip her coat.
Mom watched out the window as Phoebe began to lift the deep snow with a large shovel. Soon Phoebe had finished the sidewalk. She found Sister Gourdin’s newspaper in the snow and was excited to leave it on the doorstep.
Phoebe’s mother told her that shoveling the snow was a wonderful way to show love to Sister Gourdin.
When Phoebe’s older brothers and sister got home from school, her mother told them what Phoebe had done. “Where do you think she came up with the idea to do that?” Phoebe’s mother asked them. And then she said, “It came from watching all of you who are such good examples of helping our neighbors.”
Phoebe’s act of service shows that no one is too young to serve others.

The company I was working for closed. I moved to Mexico City, and because I liked to work, I applied for a temporary job with an international editorial company. They wanted me to take an inventory, which was something of a specialty with me. I did the inventory in two weeks. They offered me a permanent job at good pay, and I accepted.
I didn’t speak English at that time. Our director, a man from Texas who didn’t speak any Spanish, said to my boss, “This boy is doing good work. If he knew English, we would pay more. We would send him to New York for training, and he could eventually be a manager here.”
When my boss told me that, I asked, “All I have to do is learn English?”
I was married by then. My wife spoke English because she was born in the Church colonies in Mexico. The first time I tried to speak a few words in English, someone told me not to try. It was not my gift.
Now I was motivated by the thoughts of improving my job position and having opportunities such as traveling to New York. I went to a language school and told them I wanted to learn to speak English as soon as I could.
They asked, “How much do you know?”
I said, “Not a word. Not even ‘Good morning.’”
They said, “We have an intensive course: two weeks, 16 hours a day. Eight hours here with teachers and eight hours in your home with tapes. It costs $1,000.”
I said, “I can do that. I will ask for my vacation, and I can study 16 hours a day for two weeks.”
I went to my boss and said, “I’m going to learn English in two weeks, and you have to pay only $1,000.” He laughed and said, “It is not possible. I learned in two years.”
I told my boss, “Ask the director to give me two weeks’ vacation and pay for the course. If after these two weeks I cannot talk to him in English, then you can take the fee out of my salary.”
He gave permission.
I went to the school. Every 45 minutes for eight hours, they changed teachers. They drilled and drilled the vocabulary, sentences, and conversations.
After eight hours in school, I went into the streets looking for English-speaking tourists to talk to. Then I listened to eight more hours of tapes.
The main reason I went to school was not to learn English. I really wanted to be a manager and go to New York City. Because I was highly motivated, learning English wasn’t hard for me. I enjoyed every second of it.
When I finished the 224 hours of study, I could communicate somewhat in English. I knew that the test was communicating with my director. If I couldn’t, I would have to pay back the $1,000. So I made up a plan. I would talk to him about all that I had learned. When I entered his office, I talked and talked for 20 minutes without letting him say a word. He said, “That’s enough. Send him to New York.” And I went to New York!