Gospel Story Finder

Shortly after Nikki joined the Church, she was watching general conference and a talk by Elder David A. Bednar titled “We Will Prove Them Herewith,” moved her to pay closer attention to what the Lord’s Apostle was saying.
The part regarding food storage particularly caught Nikki’s attention. After conference, she was prompted to phone her family in the Philippines to share what she had learned with them. Her family are not members of the Church and weren’t at all happy when Nikki wanted to join the Church. In fact, they were so upset about it that they wanted her to return to the Philippines.
However, her father, who Nikki said, is a very organised man and strives to be prepared, was particularly interested in what his daughter was saying.
Nikki said that during their previous phone conversations he would always ask her “How’s your ‘go to’ bag?”, “Do you have enough batteries?” and similar questions.
What Nikki was sharing with her family was therefore of great interest to her father.
Nikki said he acted immediately and began to buy the items they talked about and those listed on a Church food storage information sheet which she sent him.
About three weeks later, a series of typhoons ravaged their region. The people of their village could not get out of their homes for about four days and their phone lines were cut off.
Nikki was extremely worried about her parents and sister during this time and became frantic when she couldn’t contact them. Not knowing whether they were alive and safe was taking its toll on her.
When Nikki was finally able to get in contact with her family, she was incredibly relieved to know they were all safe.
Nikki was also humbled and brought to tears when she heard that her family had heeded her words regarding food storage and her mother and father, who lived on a farm, not only had enough for their needs but were also able to help their neighbours with the food storage they had accumulated in that short time.
Nikki’s sister who lived by herself on the top level of a two-story house was also caught up in the storm. The people who lived on the ground floor were seeking refuge because their home had been completely flooded.
Not only was Nikki’s sister able to provide them with safe shelter in her first-floor apartment but she was also able to feed them with the food storage she too had built up thanks to Nikki’s inspiration to share with her family what she heard from an Apostle of Jesus Christ.

On the other side of the ocean, Americans consider cricket in much the same unprofessional light. I know, because long, long ago I also nourished that same opinion. Only I made the mistake of discussing it with Trevor Wright, my English buddy at a Boy Scout summer camp I attended while living in England.
Word got around quickly about the “American’s comment,” and I soon found myself challenged by the entire troop to join in a cricket match. Feeling that the opinion they had of America was always directly influenced by what I did, I felt called upon to acquiesce and participate in the game.
Of all the foolish mistakes I have made in life, that was certainly the greatest. I had no idea of the mischief they were brewing up to teach me that cricket is not for kids, or cream puffs, or upstart Americans.
It was one of those languid August days when you’d sooner lie on your sleeping bag reading a comic book than run around outside playing games. But I had made my commitment, and I strolled out to the cricket pitch with comics in hand, the apparent epitome of unconcern. Sides were chosen up, and I was chosen last. Not realizing that I was chosen last because they had so little confidence in my cricket prowess, I thought it was a result of my taunts about their game.
Our side was up first, and it was a long while before it was my turn. You see, one of the first things you must realize is that cricket is not a game at all, but a siege. The shortest match of any seriousness at all starts at 11:30 A.M. and ends at 6 P.M., with an hour off for lunch and half an hour off for tea and biscuits. Normal matches last two or three days, while test matches, the big events in the cricket world, take five. In test matches, an all-England team goes out to play in Australia once a year, and an all-Australia team comes to England. As soon as they know which team is really best, they can have a real match, I guess. Meantime they keep testing it out.
Well, I took Trevor aside and asked him for a capsule lesson on cricket, admitting that I knew nothing about the game. He was greatly surprised, but in spite of his amazement, he did his best to tell me what was important. The following covers the gist of his explanation:
Both cricket and baseball are similar in three important aspects—they both involve a ball and a bat, and each game is won by the side earning the greatest number of runs. However, where baseball’s element is air, the ball touching the ground only incidentally, cricket’s is grass. You will hear old cricketers debate for hours on the state of the field, or “pitch” as they call it, because the fortunes of the game so thoroughly depend on it.
The game is concentrated on a strip of well-rolled turf, sixty-six feet long, at either end of which are two wickets. Each wicket consists of three stumps of wood driven into the turf, with two bails, small bits of wood shaped like spark plugs, balanced on top. From one wicket, the bowler (never called pitcher) tries to knock the bails off the stumps. The batsman (never called batter) attempts to thwart the bowler, either by blocking the ball with his bat or by banging out what in baseball would be a hit. (But, there are no foul balls in cricket.) After six balls have been bowled from one end of the wicket (the unit of play called an “over”), the whole field changes around; another bowler takes charge, and the batsman at the opposite end of the wicket receives his bowling.
The team principle is pretty basic. There are eleven men on a side, and whichever side bats first must play until ten men are out—or in the language of the game, until ten wickets have fallen. (The eleventh batsman, obviously, has no one left to partner him and consequently can score no more runs.)
This, however, is a ludicrously simple summation of what practically never happens; the game is so full of ifs and buts, so prone to uncertainties and unknowns, that no two games are ever alike, and none is in any way predictable.
“Just remember,” Trevor impressed upon me, “don’t let the ball hit your wicket when the bowler bowls it, and if the hit seems good enough, run.” As he left to take his position at bat, I smiled to myself in anticipation of my glorious time at bat. It would be, I thought in English slang, a piece of cake.
I watched the course of the game a while longer before returning to my comics. What seemed the oddest thing to me was that the batsman held the bat much like a golf club, and the bowler would walk away from the batsman, turn, run about ten yards, whirl his arms and legs like a windmill, and then throw the ball. No, he doesn’t throw—that’s illegal—he bowls it, making sure it bounces before reaching the batter. It all reminded me of an antelope suddenly seeing and then chasing some victim.
Another hour passed before someone yelled out my name and all the fielders shifted positions as if expecting me to play into their hands. I stepped up to the popping crease, an area four feet from the wicket in which a person bats and tags the base when running.
I had all the confidence in the world. After all, I was pretty good in baseball, and here was a bat a yard long and twice as wide as a baseball bat, and all I had to do was hit that little five-ounce red leather ball. I figured we had the game won. Old Casey was at bat.
The bowler and I eyed each other like a Spartan confronting an Athenian in battle, and he walked back for his crazy run-up. It seemed the minute he stopped running, everybody started laughing. I didn’t even see the ball until I looked back and saw the wicket knocked over. With drooping shoulders, I walked off the field after what must have been the shortest time at bat in cricket history.
I don’t even recall eating dinner that night—I was too busy eating crow.
By the end of the evening, after talking with Trevor at length, I had decided that not only was cricket the most complicated game in the world, but the most lethal. A fast bowler hurls the ball ninety miles an hour onto the ground at the batsman’s feet. According to what sort of spin he puts on it, and whether the earth is dry or wet, the ball flies into the air at any one of a hundred angles. It might hit the batsman in the face and break his nose, it might smash his thumb or his wrist, or it might knock him cold.

Three days after Elder Harold B. Lee arrived in the mission field, he met a sister missionary, Sister Fern Tanner.
Mission companion: Elder Lee, this is Sister Tanner. Wish her happy birthday!
Harold: Pleased to meet you, Sister Tanner. And happy birthday to you!
Later, when he was released from his mission, he had an operation in Salt Lake City. Instead of making an uncomfortable trip back to Idaho, he stayed with Sister Tanner and her family to recover.
Fern: Can I bring you anything else, Harold? I hope you’re feeling all right.
Harold: Thank you, Fern. I’m feeling much better.
Sister Fern Tanner and Elder Harold B. Lee were married in the Salt Lake Temple on November 14, 1923. It was Fern’s birthday—exactly three years from the day they met.

In our squadron I had a dear friend who was an outstanding football player. Years before, his team played in a New Year’s Day bowl game. Before a sold-out stadium and a large television audience, his team lost by a huge score. It turned out he and a few other members of his team had not kept the training rules. They paid a dear price. They had to live with knowing they were not prepared to play the big game; they had to live with the final score for the rest of their lives.
Years passed. Two members of this same football team were in my flight training unit. One was an exemplary, well-disciplined student and a model pilot who had learned his lesson well from the football game.
However, the other had not learned to listen to those with more knowledge and experience. When his turn would come to learn emergency procedures and to precondition his mental and physical responses so they would be automatic, even instantaneous, my friend would put his arm around the airman instructor and say, “Check me off for three hours of emergency procedure.” Then, instead of training, he would go to the pistol range or play golf or go to the officers’ club. But he never learned the emergency procedures.
On one occasion he was asked what he would do in an emergency. His answer: “I am never going to bail out; I am never going to have an emergency.”
On an evening mission a few months later, fire erupted in his plane, and it dropped below 1,500 meters, spinning in flames. Noting the fire warning light, the younger pilot who was with him said, “Let’s get out of here.” And with the centrifugal force pulling against him, the younger man, who had taken his training seriously, bailed out. His parachute opened at once and he slammed to the ground, receiving serious injuries. But he survived.
On the other hand, my friend stayed with the airplane and died in the crash. He paid the price for not having learned the lessons that could have saved his life.

Photograph courtesy of Berry and Light Chu
Berry Chu of the Taipei Taiwan Central Stake needed wisdom beyond her understanding after she made an investment that didn’t turn out well, leaving her with a large debt. The situation briefly paralyzed Berry from moving forward. But Berry humbled herself and sought Heavenly Father in prayer. From that prayer, she gained the courage to tell her husband what had happened. With tenderness and humility, Berry’s husband, Light Tsai, reassured her that they would figure it out and overcome the debt. Together, Light and Berry prayed to seek the Lord’s guidance.
Berry and Light felt they could benefit from the Church’s self-reliance course for personal finances. Despite the overwhelming debt, they developed a repayment plan. With help from the course, they learned to “prioritize tithing and … to manage finances in a godly way,” Berry says. “We also learned to budget and prioritize our expenses for necessities only.”
Not only did Berry and Light learn to budget their income responsibly, but their personal finance group also inspired Berry to switch jobs. The transition led to a higher salary, which she could put toward paying off her debt.
Unified in their goal, Berry and Light used all their bonuses, investments, and extra income from their full- and part-time jobs to pay off Berry’s debt. With the Lord’s help, they covered all their expenses and, most importantly, still paid tithing and gave other offerings.

It was a blessing for the nine members from our Vieux-Fort Branch to travel to the Dominican Republic Santo Domingo Temple in April. I’m grateful for the brother who assisted in financing the temple trip. I pray that I’ll be able to have the opportunity to send many more members to the temple that they may also experience the wonderful joy, peace, calm and love the temple holds. Our group had the opportunity to do their family history and saving ordinances for many of their deceased family members. My experience of baptizing my grandparents on both sides of my family was the opportunity of a lifetime.

Recently I dedicated a beautiful little chapel, and at that time I was told that in order to pay the balance of the ward’s share of the construction cost ($5,000), the bishop had asked all members to limit Christmas presents to small children and to donate the amount thus saved to the building fund. The members responded beautifully, considering this an opportunity to receive a blessing rather than as a sacrifice, and at the dedicatory service many bore witness to this effect.

Once, for instance, I prayed through the night to know what I was to choose to do in the morning. I knew that no other choice could have had a greater effect on the lives of others and on my own. I knew what choice looked most comfortable to me. I knew what outcome I wanted. But I could not see the future. I could not see which choice would lead to which outcome. So the risk of being wrong seemed too great to me.
I prayed, but for hours there seemed to be no answer. Just before dawn, a feeling came over me. More than at any time since I had been a child, I felt like one. My heart and my mind seemed to grow very quiet. There was a peace in that inner stillness.
Somewhat to my surprise, I found myself praying, “Heavenly Father, it doesn’t matter what I want. I don’t care anymore what I want. I only want that Thy will be done. That is all that I want. Please tell me what to do.”
In that moment I felt as quiet inside as I had ever felt. And the message came, and I was sure who it was from. It was clear what I was to do. I received no promise of the outcome. There was only the assurance that I was a child who had been told what path led to whatever He wanted for me.
I learned from that experience and countless repetitions that the description of the Holy Ghost as a still, small voice is real. It is poetic, but it is not poetry. Only when my heart has been still and quiet, in submission like a little child, has the Spirit been clearly audible to my heart and mind.

Julius and Sabina Kasue of Chyulu were two of Kenya’s early converts. They both came from Christian backgrounds and had studied the Bible. In 1981, while living in Nairobi, Kenya’s capital, Julius was introduced to the Church by Dennis Child, a Latter-day Saint working there. Julius frequently read the Book of Mormon and missionary pamphlets and discussed them with Brother Child. Julius recalls, “It was when I read the Book of Mormon for the second time and then prayed about it that I felt something burning in my heart.”5 Although Julius had a witness of the truth, he waited four years before being baptized in February 1986. His wife, Sabina, was baptized the following November. Soon after their baptism, Brother and Sister Kasue left Nairobi and returned to Chyulu, the area of their birth.

Permit me to illustrate this point. A young man of faith practiced diligently and became a championship swimmer. He excelled to the point that scholarship offers from many universities were extended. One by one he turned them aside. His father asked, “Son, why won’t you accept one of these free-ride scholarships?”
“I can’t,” the boy answered. “I’m going on a mission, and it would not be honest for me to accept it and then drop it before the year is gone.”
Angrily the father shouted, “How foolish can you be! You are throwing away an opportunity of a lifetime.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” the boy added respectfully, “but I take seriously what the Lord said about his coming again, and when he does, I don’t want to be found in the swimming pool practicing the backstroke.”

A sister with Down syndrome testified at a legislative hearing in Utah to protect unborn children diagnosed with Down syndrome. She boldly stated that she and others like her had a right to live. Afterward, she stood and gestured to all the committee members and stated, “And I love all of you!”
Lisa Wilson testified at a Utah legislative hearing to protect unborn children with Down syndrome.
Photograph courtesy of Lisa Wilson’s family

Another young woman, Katie, was at camp. She felt angry and abandoned because of overwhelming family problems. Her testimony teetered, in serious jeopardy. But a concerned leader, in an effort to live up to his holy calling, wrote Katie a note saying, “I love you. I believe in you. You have a testimony, because I have heard you bear it in these ways.” Then he listed those ways. The note arrived at the right time; Katie was strengthened to live her covenants because someone else strived to live his.

Brother Thomas Rice recently stood up in a fast and testimony meeting and said, “I am the richest man in the world and it is all because of a young girl in our neighborhood who invited our daughter to go to Primary with her. On many Saturday mornings this girl even came to our home and helped rouse Becky from her bed and then helped her to get ready for Primary.
“A short time after Becky started attending Primary, two missionaries visited our home and presented the discussions to our family. We had been active in another church when we lived in Pennsylvania, but after moving to Ohio we had not found a Church we wanted to attend.
“During our meetings with the missionaries, the gospel plan unraveled before our eyes and soon we had a testimony of its truthfulness.
“Whenever I see that young girl who first invited our Becky to Primary, I want to put my arms around her and tell her how much we love and thank her for making possible our membership in the Church. Our family has realized many rich blessings through temple marriage, missionary service, and calls to serve in positions in the ward and stake.”

“When Queen Victoria of England pinned one of England’s highest awards on Helen Keller, she asked [her], ‘How do you account for your remarkable accomplishment in life? How do you explain the fact that even though you were both blind and deaf, you were able to accomplish so much?’ Without a moment’s hesitation, Helen Keller said, ‘If it had not been for Anne Sullivan, the name of Helen Keller would have remained unknown.’
“While we know Helen Keller’s story (and that Anne Sullivan was the teacher who helped her along), most of us do not know who saw the potential in Anne Sullivan. As a young girl, Anne Sullivan was known as ‘Little Annie.’ She was diagnosed as being hopelessly insane and was locked in the basement of a mental institution outside of Boston. Little Annie would on occasion violently attack anyone who came near her. At other times she would completely ignore them.
“An elderly nurse believed there was hope for the child and felt she could communicate love and hope to her. The nurse daily visited Little Annie, but for a long time Little Annie gave no indication she was aware of her presence. The elderly nurse persisted and repeatedly brought some cookies and left them in [the] room. Soon the doctors in the institution noticed a change. After a period of time, they moved Little Annie upstairs. Finally the day came when this seemingly ‘hopeless case’ was released. Filled with compassion for others because of her institution experience, Little Annie, Anne Sullivan, wanted to help others.
“Therefore, it was Anne Sullivan who saw the great potential in Helen Keller. She loved her, disciplined her, played, prayed, pushed, and worked with her until the flickering candle that was her life became a beacon that helped light the pathway and lighten the burdens of people all over the world. But first there was the elderly nurse, then Anne Sullivan, then Helen Keller, and finally each one of us, and additional millions, who have been influenced by the people of Helen Keller” (Vital Speeches of the Day, p. 42).
An unknown elderly nurse has made a monumental contribution to our society. Anne Sullivan honored that nurse and Helen Keller honored Anne Sullivan. In the same way, as we honor God by going the second mile, he will honor us.

I continued to share my testimony with her on my mission. In one email, I told her about a woman my companion and I had met. Her daughter had also passed away. We testified of eternal families and she felt hope in what we shared. I told Natalia she could feel the same. She wrote back, telling me that she wanted to feel that hope but thought her faith wasn’t strong enough.
I decided to send Natalia a handwritten letter inviting her to pray for help to believe. I also felt prompted to write one paragraph in English and address it to a missionary. Natalia only knew Spanish, so I told her to look for the missionaries and ask them to translate for her. I figured a missionary would know English.
Soon after, I received an email from Natalia. She had found the missionaries and asked them to translate my letter. They read it silently and smiled. When Natalia asked what I had written, they replied, “Let’s talk about it!” I had written that Natalia was struggling with the death of her daughter, and I asked the missionaries to teach her about the plan of salvation.
The missionaries shared a short message, and Natalia liked what they taught. Natalia then told them I was serving a mission in Mesa, Arizona, USA. One elder, Elder Larson, said that was where he was from.
One year later, I was transferred to the area where Elder Larson’s family lived. I got to know his family as he got to know mine, and both families were blessed. Elder Larson had been praying for his younger brother, who was struggling with his testimony. I was able to go on exchanges with his brother and help him strengthen his testimony. Elder Larson and his companion continued to teach Natalia and eventually she was baptized. I know the Lord sent us in two directions, me to Arizona, and Elder Larson to Argentina, so we could both help Him strengthen our families in the gospel.

I left my home in NanTze, Taiwan, to serve as a full-time missionary in northern California in 2005. The area my companion and I were assigned was small enough that within four and a half months we had knocked on doors of every street in the main town area. The missionary work was difficult, and people often yelled at us. We had few investigators. It seemed to me that the work was not going anywhere. After about four months there, I was ready to leave. I was convinced I would be transferred.
Sunday night I waited by the phone until my zone leader called. When he reported that I was assigned to stay in the same area for another six weeks, I couldn’t believe my ears. I thought there must have been a mistake!
The following week was a total disaster for me and probably for my companion and the people under our stewardship as well. I refused to believe this was the right decision. Still, I put on a big smile whenever we saw or talked to people, but deep inside I remained unhappy. In my pride I continued to tell myself that I was not where I was supposed to be. I still hoped that my mission president would call and tell me that I was being transferred to another area.
The next Sunday morning while I was grudgingly getting ready for church, the phone rang. It was the mission president. He greeted me with his usual kind, sincere voice and then said, “Sister Cho, yesterday at lunch I thought of you and had a feeling that I needed to call you to let you know you are in the right place. You are where you’re supposed to be.” I teared up when I heard his words.
I thanked him and hung up the phone. As I began to cry, a crystal-clear feeling came strongly to my heart that there were unfinished assignments waiting for me in our area. I also knew that my Heavenly Father knew my thoughts and frustration. He understood my weakness, and He sent His servant to reassure me.
After that phone call, I began to pull myself together. I prayed for strength every day, asking to see more clearly how I could do what the Lord expected me to do. Throughout the next five weeks, my companion and I witnessed many miracles as we exercised enough faith to work hard. A very prepared investigator moved into our area and was baptized within that transfer.
We were also invited into homes of people who originally hadn’t welcomed us. We met many new people who were having a hard time and were blessed to share the comforting words of God with them. Although some didn’t then choose to be baptized, I will never forget their shining faces or how the Spirit and the love of God touched their hearts—and mine.
I learned that the Lord is truly aware of every one of us; He doesn’t send His missionaries to places without a reason. I learned that when we are assigned to an area, the Lord wants to use us there as instruments to accomplish His work. When we put ourselves in His hands, miracles happen and hearts soften, even when we don’t see how this is possible.
Importantly, I learned that my mission president, like other Church leaders, was truly called of God to be His servant. The Lord qualifies our leaders to receive the revelation and inspiration we need for the welfare of our souls.
I am forever grateful for the experiences that came as a result of not being transferred.

He said, “Brethren, I am going to tell you a story. You won’t like it, but it is a great story.”

He then proceeded with his story, and, as he had anticipated, we did not like it.

The story centered around a young man who had a very difficult problem. He did not know what to do, so he visited with his bishop.

The bishop listened carefully and thoughtfully. He asked a few questions to assure that he understood all that was involved. He then confessed that he had no idea what counsel to give but told the young man that he would be meeting with the stake president the next evening and that he would present the matter to him.

The next evening the bishop met with the stake president. He explained the young man’s problem. The stake president listened attentively and asked a few questions to assure he understood all that was involved. He then said, “Bishop, I have no idea what to tell you, but tomorrow I will be meeting with a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. I will present the matter to him.”

The next day, as he met with the member of the Quorum of the Twelve, the stake president raised the matter. The Apostle listened attentively and asked a few questions to assure that he fully understood what was involved. He then said, “President, I have no idea what to tell you, but this afternoon I will be meeting with President McKay. I will ask him.”

That afternoon he met with President McKay and carefully explained the problem. President McKay listened attentively and asked a few questions to assure that he understood all that was involved and then said, “Well, that’s his (meaning the young man’s) problem, isn’t it.”

Such was the story. We thought the ending a little abrupt. We had expected a great line, something we could chisel in stone; instead, we got one of those drab old truths that build character but can’t get the hair on your arms to stand up.

The story brought an end to our question session and with it the realization that our problems were ours and it was for us to solve them. That is why the Lord placed us there.

Elder Russell M. Nelson illustrated this point. He said: “I was serving as a consultant to the United States government at its National Center for Disease Control in Atlanta, Georgia. Once while awaiting a taxi to take me to the airport after our meetings were over, I stretched out on the lawn to soak in a few welcome rays of sunshine before returning to the winter weather of Utah. … Later I received a photograph in the mail taken by a photographer with a telephoto lens, capturing my moment of relaxation on the lawn. Under it was a caption, ‘Governmental consultant at the National Center.’ The picture was true, the caption was true, but the truth was used to promote a false impression.”17 We do not discard something we know to be true because of something we do not yet understand.

In 1830 Samuel also sold a copy of the Book of Mormon to Brigham Young’s brother: Phinehas (or Phineas) Young, a Methodist preacher. When he first met Samuel, Phinehas was returning home on horseback from his preaching circuit. He had stopped at a farm for dinner. As he and the family were visiting, a young man, dressed in rough clothes, entered the room. Book in hand, the young man said to Phinehas, “There’s a book, sir, I wish you to read.”

“Pray, sir, what book have you?” Phinehas asked.

“The Book of Mormon, or, as it is called by some, the Golden Bible.”

“Ah, so then it purports to be a revelation?” Phinehas asked.

The young man opened the book to the testimonies of the Three and Eight Witnesses and said, “Here is the testimony of the witnesses to the truth of the book.”

Phinehas read their testimonies. When Phinehas looked up from his reading, the young man said, “If you will read this book with a prayerful heart and ask God to give you a witness, you will know the truth of the work.”

Phinehas promised to read the book. Then he asked the young man’s name.

“My name is Samuel H. Smith.”

Phinehas had seen that name! “Then you are one of the witnesses.”

“Yes,” Samuel said. “I know the book is a revelation from God, translated by the power of the Holy Ghost, and that my brother, Joseph Smith, Jr., is a Prophet, Seer, and Revelator.”

After arriving home Phinehas told his wife, “I have got a book here called the Book of Mormon, and it is said to be a revelation, and I wish to read it and make myself acquainted with its errors, so I can expose them to the world.”

True to his promise, he read the Book of Mormon—twice in two weeks. Rather than finding any errors, he became convinced the book was true. On Sunday, when his congregation asked for his opinion of the book, “he defended it for ten minutes, when suddenly the Spirit of God came on him with such force that in a marvelous manner he spoke at great length on the importance of it. … He closed by telling the people that he believed the book.”5

That summer, the Young family, including Brigham, and their friends the Kimballs read the Book of Mormon and believed it.

“If you don’t like the missionaries, just tell them,” Maryann Naga begged her husband, Inosi. “They are human beings, too. Don’t keep making appointments you won’t keep.”
It had been nearly a year since Inosi had first met Latter-day Saints missionaries. And for almost that long, Maryann had made excuses to the elders while her husband avoided their appointments. But Maryann’s pleading didn’t change Inosi; he didn’t want to hear the missionaries’ message. He just didn’t know how to send them away tactfully.
Inosi Naga, private secretary to Fiji’s minister of agriculture, had seen the missionaries one day as he walked through the streets of Nausori, Fiji, on his lunch hour. He didn’t want to accept the book they offered him, but they were so persistent that he finally agreed. “This is a golden book,” they said. When the missionaries tried to set up a meeting with him, he told them that his home was far away—he really lived nearby—and that he was too busy to see them at his office. Then he introduced the elders to his brother-in-law, who happened to walk by, and quickly slipped away.
Two weeks later, Inosi was shocked to find those same two elders at his door; his brother-in-law had given them his address. Inosi invited the missionaries to stay for dinner, “but inside I was saying, Go away, go away,” he remembers.
After that, the missionaries returned regularly. On nights when Inosi knew they were coming, he didn’t come home until he was sure they had left.
Looking back, Inosi says his attitude began to change in April 1974, when Maryann gave birth to a baby boy who lived for only a day. Losing his son made Inosi think seriously about God and religion. So when two new missionaries came to the Naga home during the second week of June, Inosi was ready to listen. After one of the elders learned that the family had been meeting with the missionaries for more than a year, he challenged them to be baptized.
Inosi agreed.
Maryann couldn’t believe what she had heard. “I was afraid that this was another one of his ‘appointments,’” she says. “But when I asked him directly, I could see from his face that he was telling the truth.”
Maryann was elated. “I knew this would be the biggest change for our family,” she remembers.
The missionaries taught the Nagas every day that week, and the couple were baptized on 14 June 1974.