Gospel Story Finder

It’s tough to be the only member or active member in your family. It seems as if the ward is full of ideal families who have family home evening, prayers, and scripture reading—all of which you want to have too. Meanwhile, you sit alone at church or tag along with another family to the ward party. It’s not that you want to change families, but you want your family to change, because you love them and want eternal blessings for them: you don’t want to sit alone in the congregation in the hereafter. Yet you get discouraged when their answer to your pleas is no. At times you might even feel sorry for yourself. But always you clutch on to the hope that someday they will join. Susan also had that hope.
Susan, 16, is a pretty and talented girl, pretty because she’s self-assured, and talented because she’s self-motivated. Rather than cautiously and worriedly dipping her toes into life, she plunges in head first, perhaps blue-lipped and sputtering at first, but having a good time anyway. After her baptism three years ago, Susan channeled her efforts toward home: she wanted her father baptized.
“I knew if my dad was baptized, Mom would come. So that was my number one goal,” Susan recalled. “I figured I could accomplish it by myself because I knew my parents kind of liked me, so I figured they’d want to do this,” she said with bold confidence. “I tried everything,” she added more humbly.
“I tried being forceful, but that didn’t work. Then I tried making them feel sorry for me. I told them that I had to sit in church by myself and sing by myself, and that everybody else was with their families. That didn’t work either.”
Although she sometimes felt discouraged, Susan would not give in. “After I learned more about missionary work,” she continued, “I tried a different approach: I invited them to come to my church meetings. I gave talks in sacrament meeting, and Mom would come. One time I sang in stake conference. I even got a new dress. Mom was going to come, but she got sick, so I went with no hope that either Mom or Dad would be there. We were singing our song when I looked at the back of the chapel and saw my dad coming through the door. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t because I had to sing.
“Another time that Dad came with me was at the ward father-daughter date. While we were sitting there eating our breakfast, I looked at Dad, and the thought came to me that someday he was going to be baptized. Right in the middle of bacon and eggs, I knew it, and I wanted it more than anything.”
But the baptism didn’t happen overnight, and Susan learned more about missionary work. “I knew I couldn’t do it by myself,” she admitted.
One day while walking home from school, Susan saw two parked bikes on her street and two missionaries knocking on someone’s door. The missionaries had been to Susan’s home five times before. Usually they had just come once. But Susan wouldn’t let that block her new excitement. Maybe this time her father was ready.
“I had hoped the missionaries wouldn’t get in to the house they were knocking at because I wanted to talk to them. They didn’t, so I told them about Dad. They told me that they had prayed that morning about where they should tract and were sent to my street. I think the Lord knew that my dad was ready to hear the gospel. Whether anyone else knew it or not, the Lord knew it, and that is all that matters.”
But all wasn’t perfect and easy. There were times when Susan got very discouraged, wondering why things weren’t happening faster. “Then I would have to remember that getting ready for baptism was a slow process for me also. I would look around and see other young people who sat by themselves in church or whose circumstances seemed worse than mine, but they didn’t seem discouraged. Their example helped me to quit feeling sorry for myself.”
Meanwhile, realizing that her example was crucial, Susan also reaped one of the blessings of missionary work—that of preparing and growing herself.
“I had to be as ready as Dad was. I had to do a lot of praying, some fasting, and even some repenting. I realized that missionary work is love and service, that it is telling your mom and dad you love them even if your little brother and sister are listening. I also tried to follow the missionaries’ example of showing love for Dad. I would try not to scream and holler at my family,” she admitted.
The missionaries came to Susan’s home seven times over a five-month period. Each time she could tell that her father was getting closer.
“One night in April I went for my birthday interview with the bishop. Dad came to pick me up after.” Susan continued mischievously, “I hid down the hall so Dad would have to come in and find me. When he came into the church, he asked if he could see the bishop alone. He was in there for about 30 minutes, and I was out in the foyer wondering what in the world they were talking about!
“On the way home I was dying to hear what went on. All of a sudden Dad said, ‘Well, Susie, I guess I’ll get baptized.’ I just sat there. I wanted to cry, but I knew I shouldn’t because Dad doesn’t like us to get emotional. All I said was, ‘Oh Dad, I think that’s so neat.’ That was kind of a dumb thing to say, but what do you say when your biggest goal has just been realized?”
Susan’s father was baptized on April 14th.
But Susan realizes that her missionary work isn’t over yet. “I still get impatient and discouraged at times, but I’ve come to realize that becoming a celestial family is a step-by-step process. And I must understand my parents. I try to do my part. When I’m spiritually down, it shows in the home. So I try to keep my testimony strong by doing what I’m supposed to do; I feel better when I do.”
Susan has learned a lot about missionary work, mostly through trial and error. She has learned that timing and responses are different for different people, that force and pity aren’t successful, that true service is far more important than lip service, that the Spirit must touch the person’s life, and that desire—well, as for desire, Susan isn’t lacking; she keeps on trying, regardless of mistakes, to boldly live the gospel, although it’s sometimes awkward, frightening, and even downright hard.
But positively, Susan summed it up: “My dad wanted absolutely nothing to do with the Church 20 years ago, but after going through a lot of visits from our home teachers, and after many different sets of missionaries, and after he had a daughter who wouldn’t leave him alone—my dad is a member of the Church.”
And when asked about her recent goals, Susan enthusiastically replied, “To have family home evening, family prayer, and to be sealed in the temple to my family—that’s my number one goal now!”

War in the Persian Gulf
Maureen Clark, 14, Farragut Ward
I was at church on Wednesday night for Mutual. I remember someone came in and yelled, “The war’s started.” A bunch of people started crowding into a room where there was a television. I was shocked and scared. My friends and I went into the meetinghouse library and started looking up the signs of the last days in the scriptures and what would happen before Christ comes. We read about the wars that would happen. We started getting a little shaky, but time calmed us down.

When the 23-year-old Heber J. Grant was installed as president of the Tooele Stake, he told the Saints he believed the gospel was true. President Joseph F. Smith, a counselor in the First Presidency, inquired, “Heber, you said you believe the gospel with all your heart, … but you did not bear your testimony that you know it is true. Don’t you know absolutely that this gospel is true?”
Heber answered, “I do not.” Joseph F. Smith then turned to John Taylor, the President of the Church, and said, “I am in favor of undoing this afternoon what we did this morning. I do not think any man should preside over a stake who has not a perfect and abiding knowledge of the divinity of this work.”
President Taylor replied, “Joseph, Joseph, Joseph, [Heber] knows it just as well as you do. The only thing that he does not know is that he does know it.”
Within a few weeks that testimony was realized, and young Heber J. Grant shed tears of gratitude for the perfect, abiding, and absolute testimony that came into his life.1

Elder Anderson and I scanned the backs of two apartment buildings for empty windows. Over the balconies clothes hung down from drying poles. The balcony railings were draped with futon, colorful floor mattresses and quilts. Some women whacked them with bamboo. Again no luck. Only 10:30 and already we were depressed.
“Well, today is the day,” my companion said. “I’m sure we’ll find one.”
We were sure, but today was also Friday and new missionaries arrived tomorrow. There were so many that the mission had to open three new branches, one here in Yao-shi. We had to find an apartment for them today.
Elder Anderson indicated a small fruit stand. “Elder Tice. I’ll treat you. You’re thinking too much.” He had silvery blue eyes and blond-brown freckles and hair, contrasting sharply with my darker skin and black hair.
“You’re right. Let’s precelebrate with apple pears, and after we find a place today, I’ll treat you at Mr. Donuts: Bavarian cream and raspberry.”
“Now you’re talking! Doughnuts are great for my blisters!”
We chose the thin-skinned, light yellow nashi that crunched when bitten and ran with juice. Among the old wooden houses we found a small park. Eating on the streets was impolite, but a park was more acceptable.
Four preschoolers stopped playing and gawked at the foreigners. Their mothers told them not to stare and tried to turn them. “Ii desu yo” (That’s okay), we assured them. Then, with powerful hands and wrists, Elder Anderson tore two nashi into halves and gave them to the startled children.
We introduced ourselves. “Tice Choro to moshimasu” (My name is Elder Tice).
“Anderson Choro desu” (I’m Elder Anderson).
I gave Elder Anderson my Sofuto Tacchi tissues to wipe his hands. A few women giggled. We handed them our name cards, wrote their addresses, then left after an episode of furious bowing.
Around the bend Elder Anderson said, “Every day from 8:30 in the morning to 9:00 at night! Who’d have thought it would take so long?”
“Two-and-a-half weeks. We’ll have the missionaries return to this neighborhood after they’re settled. Wish we could work here.”
“Yeah. I love this city.”
Toward evening we reached the main road again where the houses thinned and the road became a highway. “Well, Elder Tice, we’re back. What do we do now?”
The signs across the street were steeped in dusk. A few cars slipped past.
“It doesn’t look like this leads into town.” I paused. “It’s 7:00.” He nodded. “Two hours before our train.” He didn’t move, then nodded again. I had to do something.
A series of rice fields began where the houses ended. The stalks were large, and evening darkened the fields. A rich green luster lingered around the tassels. “Shall we try another prayer?” I suggested.
“Yes, I think we should.”
I pointed to an alley a few buildings down. Except for one small grocer, all businesses along the thoroughfare were closed. “Let’s go there. It looks private enough.” We crossed the street and slipped into the alleyway. “Elder Anderson, would you offer the prayer?”
“Elder Tice, I’d be delighted.” We faced each other and bowed our heads.
“Our kind and gracious Heavenly Father, thou knowest we have need of thee. Thou hast sent us here where the gospel has not been taught before. Many times we have asked thee to help us find an apartment. We need thy help. The people of this city need thy help. In no other way can we find the apartment tonight. Please guide us. We ask thee for this aid in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
We felt buoyant. We put our right hands out palms downward, mine under Elder Anderson’s, then flung them upward with a hearty “Yoshi!” (All right!)
I said, “There’s a real estate agent several blocks away. We passed him earlier, but the office was closed.” We set off jogging.
The street was no longer empty. People were chatting in front of their homes, enjoying the cooling evening. We reached the real estate office, but it was still closed. I banged on the door. On one side a narrow passage ran between the building and adjacent wooden houses. About 30 feet away, a lanky, middle-aged man putted a golf ball into a cup. He missed one stroke and the ball rolled toward us.
I hustled over to pick it up, then handed him the ball. “Arigato” (Thanks), he said. He must have thought I was Japanese, for when I replied, “Do itashimashite” (You’re welcome), his eyes went wide. They went even wider when Elder Anderson came up.
“Hee. Gaijin desu ka?” the man asked. Gaijin was the popular abbreviation for gaikokujin, people from an outside country. We nodded.
We asked him if he knew who owned the real estate business.
“That’s my office,” he said, pointing an index finger at his nose. “Today is my day off.”
“We’re glad we found you,” Elder Anderson said.
The real estate agent stepped back in surprise. He dropped his golf ball. “You speak Japanese too?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Hee. Both of you speak so well. Are you Americans?”
“We’re from California,” I replied.
“Ah, California. Warm sun and oranges. I will visit San Francisco some day.” He went around to the front and unlocked the door. “Please come in.” Then he pulled up some chairs, took a bottle of Karupisu, a sour milk drink, from the compact refrigerator, and turned three glasses on a towel right side up. He poured some concentrate into each glass and added cold water. “I’m sorry I don’t have any sake” (rice wine).
“That’s fine. We don’t drink sake or any alcohol,” I said.
“That’s good! Me—I drink too much and my face turns bright red.” He brought the glasses to us. “Such fine young men,” he commented. “Shall we introduce ourselves? Mochida Ryusuke desu” (I’m Ryusuke Mochida).
“Hajimemashite, Mochida-san. Tice Choro desu” (How do you do, Mr. Mochida. I’m Elder Tice).
“Hajimemashite. Anderson Choro desu (How do you do. I’m Elder Anderson). We’re missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
We shook hands vigorously. “Perhaps you can help us,” I started. “We need an apartment for four male missionaries. At least two six-jo rooms, a 4.5-jo kitchen, a bath, and a flush toilet.” A jo was the size of one straw floor mat.
“Yoshi. Large apartments, but I have a few. Let me bring some blueprints. I have a new one with two eight-jo rooms—750,000 yen deposit and 35,000 yen monthly rent. Very good price.” He moved toward his desk.
“That’s the problem. We’re allowed a maximum of 500,000 yen deposit and 28,000 yen rent.”
He looked back at us. “Impossible. Not around Osaka. Even old places that size go to 600,000 yen.” He sat down at his desk and shook his head. “You can’t go any higher?”
“The mission home establishes a standard for all apartments we rent.”
“We’ve been looking in Yao-shi for more than two weeks,” Elder Anderson said. We looked at Mochida-san expectantly.
“Saa. Well, I can call a friend who has the largest agency in Yao. If he doesn’t have one, then there isn’t one.” He picked up the phone and dialed. “Moshi moshi (hello). Okusan desu ka? (Is this Mrs. ?) Ryusuke desu. (I’m Ryusuke.) Ee. Imasu ka? Hai.” (Yes. Is he in? Yes.) He looked up. “He’s at home—“but was cut off. “Hai. Yes, it’s business. Ano, two Americans are here. They’re looking for an apartment: six-jo—two rooms, kitchen, bath, flush toilet. Yes, I do, but price is a problem. Deposit—500,000, rent—28,000 … You do—But they speak Japanese … Oh? … Well, you speak to them. Don’t worry.” He motioned for me to hurry. “He has a place, but he doesn’t want to rent it to you.” He handed me the receiver.
“Moshi moshi” (hello), was all I could think to say.
“Moshi moshi. You speak Japanese?” It was more a doubt than a question.
“Some. I’ve been in Japan one year and nine months.”
“You speak quite well. Did you study Japanese long in America?”
“No. Two months in Hawaii and the rest here.”
“Which school do you attend?”
“I don’t attend school. I’m a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ—”
“A Christian church, huh? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you. Let me talk to Ryusuke-san now.”
I looked up, bewildered. “He wants to talk to you.” Mochida-san took the receiver. “Moshi moshi. Ee. Why don’t you—It won’t hurt to see them … Have you ever met any? Well? … I’ll take them there. Just say hello.” He hung up and shrugged. “He’s really very friendly. Well, shall we go?”
The blue-tiled office was new, with the front nearly all glass. Mochida-san hopped out of his Nissan, and we pulled ourselves from the cramped back seats. Our friend opened the door slightly. “Gomen kudasai. Mairimashita yo” (Excuse me).
“Dozo, dozo, ohairi kudasai” (Please come right in). A slender woman in a scarlet and blue cotton kimono appeared from a side curtain, carrying a tray of teacups and a teapot. She put the tray down and shuffled toward us, stopping before the genkan, or entryway. Mochida-san opened the door wide.
After she again invited us in, we stepped from the genkan up to the floor into slippers provided, leaving our shoes behind. A solidly built man about five feet, six inches tall hurried in through the back door. He scowled. Elder Anderson and I bowed and introduced ourselves.
Our host returned the bow quickly. “Seki Nijiro desu” (I’m Nijiro Seki). His wife smiled graciously, then bowed slowly. He looked at Elder Anderson. “Do you speak Japanese too?”
“Yes, I speak Japanese. I’ve been in Japan only one year so I don’t speak as well as Elder Tice.”
“You’re wearing suits. I wouldn’t have talked to you if you had come in with long hair and jeans.”
“We all wear suits and keep our hair short. It’s a mission rule,” Elder Anderson said.
“Well, sit down. We might as well talk.” He and his wife settled in the chairs; we and Mochida-san sat on the sofa.
I began. “Every day for two-and-a-half weeks we’ve been looking for an apartment. We need to find one by tomorrow. Do—”
“My apartment building is in a quiet neighborhood. It’s for newlyweds. They take care of their apartments. Four young students—”
“Missionaries,” I prompted.
“Ee to … missionaries … I can’t rent to single men. Their rooms get cluttered because their mothers aren’t around to clean after them. Newlyweds are more conscientious.”
“Our mission rules make us clean our apartments,” I said. “Every morning from 8:00 to 8:30. We also have inspections.”
“I see. But you’ll still have ashes and cigarette butts all over. Young men—”
“Oh, we don’t smoke.”
Seki-san sputtered. Mochida-san stared at me in amazement.
“That’s right,” Elder Anderson said. “In our church we have a commandment not to smoke. It’s very healthy.”
Both men nodded. Seki-san’s wife took advantage of the silence to pour some tea.
I stammered, “Excuse me, but is that ocha?” (tea).
“No. It’s mugicha.” Mugicha was made from barley kernels roasted black. It was often served in summer.
“Yokatta!” (Good!) we said in relief. I explained, “We don’t drink anything made from cha leaves. We don’t drink coffee either. It’s part of our health laws.”
The wife finished pouring. “That’s very strict. But don’t worry. This is mugicha.” She placed the teacups before us. The drink was so hot I couldn’t keep my fingers on the sides.
“Green tea is good for you.” Evidently Seki-san had recovered. “Still, young men are not responsible enough. No telling what time you’d get in. We can’t have you disturbing others at midnight. I’m sorry.”
Elder Anderson responded, “The mission has a nightly curfew at 9:30, and all missionaries are to be in bed at 10:30.”
“We have to be up by 6:30,” I volunteered.
“Maa (Oh!). Is that so?” Seki-san shifted about in his chair uncomfortably. “I simply cannot rent to you. All the other families would be newlyweds. You’d be coming and going all day. The radio would be on. You’d disturb others.” He stood up unexpectedly and raised his voice. “The husbands would be away and only the okusan (wives) would be home it wouldn’t be seemly! I can’t allow immoral behavior! Okusan and unmarried men! And what about young women? Who’s to stop them? No telling what—”
“Now wait a minute!” I exclaimed.
Elder Anderson leaped up. “We’re missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints! Do you know what that means?”
Seki-san drew in his cheeks and his wife poured him some mugicha. He raised the teacup and slurped noisily before sitting down.
I leaned forward and looked at him intently. “When we enter the Church, we make some crucial promises to God. One of them we call the law of chastity. We stay chaste before marriage and remain faithful after marriage. Missionaries especially try to live all the commandments. We believe they’re from God. They bring us joy and make us honorable, respected people. We also promise not to date during the years we work as missionaries. In our mission no one but missionaries is allowed in our apartments.” I had spent most of my steam and was feeling guilty. I looked down. “Except of course for landlords … I’m very sorry we got upset.”
Seki-san waved his hand. “No, no. That’s all right. We shall be friends.”
Elder Anderson started speaking eagerly. “I think we’d make good renters. We have a Japanese and gospel study program every morning. We leave for the day at 10:30, coming back only at mealtimes. We aren’t supposed to listen to popular music, and since most of us don’t like classical music, it’s pretty quiet.” He grinned broadly. He had an infectious, good-natured smile.
“Saa, saa (Come now). Let’s have some sake.”
His wife started to stand, but Mochida-san, who had been quiet till now, broke in. “They don’t drink sake, either.”
“Well, biru then.” Beer is extremely popular in Japan.
“Oh, they don’t drink biru, either. No alcohol.” He was enjoying himself immensely. He patted us both on the back. “Fine fellows. Maybe I should stop drinking.”
“You? The day you stop drinking I stop drinking.” Seki-san laughed.
“Well, I can always cut back.”
“You should. At least I don’t have to worry about cases of empty biru bottles stacked before the door.” He stopped and stood up. “Shall we look at the blueprints?”
“You mean?”—I had trouble believing what I heard. I blinked hard to hold back tears. “Thank you so much.” I took out a handkerchief, and wiped my eyes.
“Ii to mo (That’s all right). I would be honored to rent to you. It would be a pleasure.”
Elder Anderson stood to shake hands with Seki-san. “We’re very grateful.” Then we started to cry. I finally lent my companion the handkerchief.
When we left half an hour later to catch our train, just before we climbed into Mochida-san’s car, Elder Anderson began to hum our favorite jingle, “Ohayo, Mr. Donuts …”

Then one day in the spring, we found Bimbo stretched out in the backyard as though he were dead. Does he have scarlet fever? I wondered. On the way to see the veterinarian, I remember praying as hard as I could that Bimbo wouldn’t die. The veterinarian told us our dog had been poisoned and would have to stay in the hospital for several days. Later when we took Bimbo home, we gave him love and attention and continued to pray for him. Our prayers were answered and he did recover.

In the course of our daily activities, we have many opportunities to teach others about the gospel. For six years, I have worked as an electrician on seagoing oil drilling rigs around the world. It is shift work—one month on and one month off. Relationships are temporary; if you want to make friends, you must concentrate your efforts because you may never see your fellow crew members again.
While working for an oil company in the North Sea off the coast of Great Yarmouth, England, I made a wonderful friend—a crane operator from Norwich, England, named James MacDonald.
One day as I entered the dining area for lunch, I saw James sitting at the table with his head bowed, asking a blessing on his meal. I was surprised to see someone so unafraid of being religious in the rough environment of the drilling business. Here was a man who truly desired the friendship of our Father in Heaven and who thanked him for his goodness. From that first day, I hoped I would have the opportunity to teach this man the gospel.
As I got to know James, we spent many hours discussing points of religious doctrine and comparing them with what the Savior taught. James had an excellent knowledge of the Bible. As our four-week tour of duty drew to a close, we both felt a sense of urgency. I wanted James to gain a conviction of the truth of the things I had taught him before we parted.
But there was one complication in our success: he was not sure that the Book of Mormon was really necessary. He had read it, and he said that it was a beautiful book. But he said, “Isn’t the Bible enough? We don’t need any more Bible. We have the teachings of Jesus to his people in our Bible.”
I then explained the principle of fasting and prayer and asked James if he would fast the next day. I told him that he should pray and ponder the questions he had in his heart until he felt he had received an answer.
As James retired to his room at the end of the day, he knelt in prayer to ask his Father in Heaven whether or not the Book of Mormon was necessary. He told our Heavenly Father that when he arose from prayer, he would open the Book of Mormon to find his answer. He knew that if it were true and necessary as holy scripture, the answer would come from it.
When he arose from praying, he opened the Book of Mormon and placed his finger upon a passage. It read:
“Thou fool, that shall say: A Bible, we have got a Bible, and we need no more Bible. Have ye obtained a Bible save it were by the Jews?
“Know ye not that there are more nations than one? Know ye not that I, the Lord your God, have created all men, and that I remember those who are upon the isles of the sea; and that I rule in the heavens above and in the earth beneath; and I bring forth my word unto the children of men, yea, even upon all the nations of the earth?
“Wherefore murmur ye, because that ye shall receive more of my word? Know ye not that the testimony of two nations is a witness unto you that I am God, that I remember one nation like unto another? Wherefore, I speak the same words unto one nation like unto another. And when two nations shall run together the testimony of the two nations shall run together also.” (2 Ne. 29:6–8.)
As he read these words, he felt the thrilling warmth of the Holy Ghost. He fell again to his knees to give humble thanks to his Father in Heaven. He then made his way to my room and knocked on the door.
His countenance was bright, and his handshake was confident and strong. He told me: “I have received an answer to my prayers. I know the Book of Mormon is a true and necessary book and that you have taught me the truth.” He then said, “I want you to teach me, and I will listen and believe it all.” Far into the night we discussed gospel principles and prayed together, that we might both be enlightened, strengthened, and filled with knowledge.
The next day we left the oil rig to begin our respective journeys home. I told James that he could look up the Church in the telephone directory in order to set up a meeting with the missionaries. I didn’t know what would happen, but I trusted in the Lord that James would be able to find the elders without difficulty.
A week or so later I received a letter from a missionary in Norwich, England—a missionary who was originally from my own stake in El Paso, Texas. It read:
I am writing to thank you for giving us the opportunity of teaching and baptizing one of your friends. He is truly one of the Lord’s “valiant.” I wish you could have been there when James and I walked down into the font and I had the great honor of baptizing him into the Church of Jesus Christ. Brother MacDonald has been an answer to many people’s prayers. My companion and I had been fasting and praying forever a month to be led to someone to teach. When James called us and asked us to come and teach him, we knew that our prayers had been answered. May the Lord bless you.
Elder Barton
Within a few days, another letter came. This one, from James, read:
How grateful I am to our Heavenly Father for answering my prayers for guidance, wisdom, and knowledge! How thankful I am for the many blessings he has bestowed on me and my family! How great is the joy I have through the knowledge of the truth, for I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the Lord’s true church restored to the earth in these last days. I know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, the Creator of all things, in whose image I am made. I know that he died as an atoning sacrifice for the sins of the world and that he could and did overcome death that all men could return to our Heavenly Father—to eternal life. I know that our Heavenly Father and our Lord Jesus Christ are two personages with flesh and bones and that they visited Joseph Smith and reestablished the Kingdom of God upon the earth. I have been and continue to be blessed with all manner of knowledge and wisdom in answer to my prayers. How great is my desire to serve the Lord faithfully to the glory of the Father and the Son.
With love in Christ,James P. MacDonald
These letters brought me great joy. I had obeyed the Lord’s commandments to every member: “Be a missionary,” and “Feed my sheep.” And through that obedience, I had not only gained a great friend, but I had also shared the joy of the gospel with him. As the Lord has said, “And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!” (D&C 18:15.) I have tasted of that joy. It is great! And I hope to continue to bring souls unto him.

Dealing with Divorce
Bret Bryce, 15, Farragut Ward
My parents got divorced about five years ago. We were in the living room on a Saturday morning. My parents came in and told us they were going to be separated for a while. I always thought we had the perfect family. I remember that everybody cried. We were really sad and scared. I felt like the world was about to end, a terrible sick feeling. I was praying and hoping that they would get back together. But it never happened. They each got married to other people, really good people.
I would tell kids going through the same thing that it’s not their fault. Just because your parents get divorced doesn’t mean they don’t love you.

One sister told of her preparation to receive a General Authority guest in her home for stake conference. Everything was to be perfect. Extensive cleaning and cooking were done. Her ten children were prepped as to what their roles should be. She worked hard! By the time he arrived she was exhausted and couldn’t enjoy his visit. Too late, she realized that spiritual preparation was “needful” also.

She stated, “It is because of our spiritual preparation that we can find answers to our everyday challenges. It is because of our spiritual preparation that we can find joy in enduring and overcoming our trials. It is because of our spiritual preparation that we can feel the greatest joy of all, a nearness and closeness to our Savior and Father in Heaven.”

A few days ago, my profession as a B-747 captain took me home on a flight from Dallas, Texas, to Frankfurt, Germany. It was a moonless night over the North Atlantic, and myriads of stars covered the sky. As I contemplated this awesome sight from the cockpit, my thoughts went to the many miracles I have seen in my life.
Forty-five years ago, shortly after the horrors of the Second World War, at age eight I was baptized in Zwickau, Sachsen, in eastern Germany. This came about because a white-haired, courageous, and caring lady shared the restored gospel of Jesus Christ with my grandmother and parents, and they did not hesitate to accept the challenge. How I love them for that! In 1952 my family had to leave that part of my homeland, expecting never to see it again. We went to Frankfurt, where I was ordained a deacon and taught by tough but loving leaders to appreciate the value of work and service.
At the same time, in the heart of western Germany, another marvelous lady, recently widowed, still in her thirties, was terrified by the difficulties of the future. She had two young daughters and felt left alone in a country without hope. Right then two young missionaries rang the doorbell and brought the message of light, truth, and hope.
I give thanks eternally to those diligent American missionaries and most of all to Sister Carmen Reich, who became my mother-in-law, for her faith, strength, and willingness to listen to the still, small voice. My life has been very different because of the miraculous insight of these great individuals.
In those years, many Saints left Europe to go to Zion. But then the Brethren taught us that Zion could be anywhere around the globe if we were willing to establish it. The Saints had faith and stayed, and Zion increased in beauty and holiness. Stakes were organized and strengthened. Nevertheless, Germany still had two completely different political systems divided by concrete-walled boundaries.
My eternal partner—my wife, Harriet—encouraged me never to lose hope that someday there would be one Germany again. How grateful I am for her, her love and partnership, and for our family.
In 1976, President Monson gave my country a blessing with promises far beyond logical or political reasoning. It was a prophetic promise which required modern-day miracles. And the miracles occurred.
In 1989 the Berlin Wall fell, and this week, four years ago, Germany was reunited. The borders were enlarged, and Zion was enabled to put on her beautiful garments. There are now two temples in Germany, five temples in Europe, and more to come. The kingdom of God is expanding rapidly into the eastern parts of Europe and even moving far beyond geographic or political boundaries of yesterday. Missionaries are now serving at places most of us have to look up in dictionaries or cannot find easily on maps.
I am grateful for the Saints in Europe, for their strong testimonies, which are visible in the conduct of their everyday lives. Their faith has given me comfort and security. Their examples have helped me to find and keep the right direction in days of challenge and questioning.
That dark night over the North Atlantic, safely directing our big jet to its destination, we had to be extremely careful and precise in creating the navigational basis by entering the geographic coordinates into the navigational reference system. It had to be true and valid because it was the foundation for all future decisions. In 1979, a flight started in New Zealand on wrong coordinates and crashed into Mount Erebus at the South Pole.
The gospel of Jesus Christ is the only true and valid basis for our lives. If we enter it into our system—into “all [our] heart, might, mind and strength” (D&C 4:2)—we will know how to choose the right and to whom to listen.
On long-range flights, the shortwave radio frequencies are often crowded, and static distorts the messages. The same is true for our lives. Everybody wants to get their message across. We have to train and condition ourselves to hear the still, small voice, never to be distracted or stop listening because of too much static on that sacred frequency. This can best be done by internalizing and acting according to the moral and ethical standards we receive from the scriptures and the living prophets.
From the Prophet Joseph Smith to President Howard W. Hunter, we are receiving updated sacred guidance according to our needs and readiness. The general conference messages by our prophets, seers, and revelators are given to us by the Lord in his own time, in his own way, and for a very special purpose.
Jesus Christ, the Son of God, made the miracle of forgiveness and redemption possible. This is truly the Church of Jesus Christ; it proclaims a gospel of joy, hope, courage, truth, love, and miracles. This I bear humble witness of in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

On Sunday morning, December 9, 1849, at eight o’clock, about 30 children between the ages of 8 and 13 arrived in a small classroom that had been built in a home. They stamped their feet on the threshold, shook the snow off their coats and hats, then took their places on simple benches. They waited expectantly for the class to begin. It was a cold, snowy day outside, but the fireplace radiated a warm and friendly glow. Richard Ballantyne’s eyes shone brightly as he called the Sunday School to order. He led the boys and girls in a song, and then he gave a quiet but fervent prayer, dedicating this room in his home for teaching children the gospel of Jesus Christ. His voice was rich, and his words rolled forth as words do under the spell of reverence and emotion. Thus we have the founding of the first Sunday School in the Salt Lake Valley.
Organizing a Sunday School was not foreign to him. In his native Scotland he had organized a Sunday School in the Relief Presbyterian Church, of which he was an active member. It was natural for him to have a great desire to educate young people in the knowledge of the gospel. He had been reared in a home where his father was fond of repeating from memory whole chapters of the Bible and then reciting them to his children. It was a home where they would not even take a sip of water without first taking off their hats and saying grace, as was also the custom before they would eat a meal.
Rumors were spreading around the Scottish home that a new prophet had been raised up in America. At first Richard paid little attention to these rumors, but as his religious questions became more perplexing, he openly sought further light and knowledge. It was in 1841 that Elder Orson Pratt appeared in Edinburgh. Richard listened to his message and investigated the Church for a year. Finally he was converted and was baptized in the North Sea. He said, “I was so convinced that Joseph Smith was a prophet and the Book of Mormon was the word of God, and that if I did not accept it I would be damned.” As was the case of many of those early converts to the Church, he sold his business and emigrated to America, taking with him his mother and some of his brothers and sisters. They arrived in Nauvoo on November 11, 1843, at a time when there was great turmoil in the city. They eventually left Illinois and made the trek to Winter Quarters. There he was married and soon made preparation for the long journey west. They arrived in the Salt Lake Valley in September of 1848 and immediately commenced building a home. It was in this home that the first Sunday School in the valley was held. When the chapel—the old 14th Ward—was completed, the Sunday School moved to the new meetinghouse.
Brother Ballantyne had a fervent desire to teach young people the gospel of our Lord and Savior throughout his entire life. Thanks be to the late Conway Ballantyne Sonne, a cousin of mine, for this history of the first Sunday School (see Conway B. Sonne, Knight of the Kingdom: The Story of Richard Ballantyne [1949], 8–49).

I approached the doors to the church with one clear thought in my mind: “If I don’t find a friend at church today, I’m never coming back.” I had attended church with a friend a few times before, but this was the first time I attended as an investigator by myself and for myself. I felt I needed to join the Church, but I had several fears and concerns.
When I entered the church, I was greeted by a young adult with a big smile and a hearty handshake. He introduced himself as Dane McCartney. I had seen Dane before, when he had tried out for the college football team I played for. My anxiety vanished when he invited me to sit with him during the Church meetings. He also invited me to his parents’ home for dinner afterward. I never had a chance to feel alone that day. Dane and his family reached out to me and helped answer many of my questions. I joined the Church a few weeks later.
Had Dane just been friendly to me that day, I probably would have left church after sacrament meeting and given up, thinking that I had given it a shot but that church just wasn’t for me. While it’s certainly important to be friendly, being a friend involves more than just being nice. The McCartneys’ love and support was important to my conversion.

Another member, many miles away, shared the gospel in correspondence to a friend in Richmond, Virginia. A wonderful experience followed. Two missionaries were tracting one day in Richmond. One had been ill; the other felt uneasy as they walked the streets, knowing that his companion was not at his best. Both desired to persevere, however.

After two hours of having little success, they knocked on a door and introduced themselves as missionaries with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. “Oh, yes,” the woman replied, “Ann Smith sent you.” The elders looked at each other, shook their heads, then told her they were just knocking at the doors in the neighborhood and that no person in particular had sent them to her. She invited them in; the husband and other family members were present in the room.

She then told the missionaries something that caused them to marvel. She said, “Just an hour or two ago I finished reading a letter that I had received today from my dearest friend who lives in California. A year ago her husband and she were converted to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and were recently married in the temple. When we last heard, their marriage was falling apart, and she confided in me the sad situation. But today I received this ten-page letter telling me all about your church and the marvelous change it has made in their lives.”

She allowed the missionaries to read the contents of that letter, which covered Relief Society, Primary, Sunday School, MIA, and much, much more. Then they read a short note at the bottom, which said, “I will be sending two missionaries to your house to teach you more about the Church.”

After hearing the elders’ message, she said, with tears streaming down her face, “I believe the Lord sent you to us.”

When members and missionaries work faithfully together, they become as one and the Lord can use them to achieve his purposes among his children. The Lord had united as one the efforts of this faithful member and these diligent missionaries, to bring this family instruction which, if followed, will bring them joy and peace beyond measure and lead them back into the presence of our Heavenly Father.

“When I was only 15 years old,” said Colleen Webb Asay, “I committed myself to living the gospel.”
At the time, having proven herself capable and dependable, she was called to serve as the stake organist. In those days stake officers were set apart by visiting General Authorities. Elder John A. Widtsoe, a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, laid his hands on this young girl’s head and, with the authority that he held, pronounced a blessing.
“I’ll never forget that,” she said. “It’s hard to explain it, but it was like an electrical feeling that went clear through me, and after it was over, I didn’t want anyone to talk to me or shatter that feeling. I remember thinking how great the gospel is. I guess the Holy Ghost witnessed to me that day how important it is. I remember the feeling I had. I wanted to serve the Lord however or whenever I could. That was a great day. I made a commitment.” And that early commitment has made a difference in all the rest of her life.

As a teenager living in Somerset, New Jersey, Todd Christofferson participated in the cast of the Hill Cumorah Pageant near Palmyra, New York, for two summers. During the production his first year, young Todd remembered the words of a former bishop. He had encouraged the youth of the ward to never give up striving with the Lord until they had “burned into [their] hearts a testimony of the gospel.”
Todd had taken the words of his priesthood leader seriously and had prayed about his testimony from time to time. But there in Palmyra, the cradle of the Restoration, he determined this was the time and place he was going to get a sure confirmation.
“One night after the performance, I went to the Sacred Grove alone,” he remembers. “It was a beautiful summer evening. I took off my shoes, went in, and began to pray. I prayed very diligently for an hour, maybe more—and nothing happened.”
After some time, he gave up and left. Disappointment consumed him. What had he done wrong? Why hadn’t Heavenly Father answered his prayer?
In what seemed like no time at all, the two-week stretch of pageant performances ended, and Todd returned to New Jersey. About a month later, as he was reading the Book of Mormon at home in his bedroom, he received his answer.
“Without my asking for it, the witness came,” he recalls. “It came without words, but I received a very powerful spiritual confirmation—the kind that leaves no doubt—about the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith.
“Looking back on that experience, I realize that we can’t dictate to God when, where, or how He will speak to us. We just have to be open to receive what He disposes, when He disposes it. It comes according to His will.
“I’m glad that Heavenly Father didn’t respond to me that night in Palmyra. I might have thought that you have to be in a special place to get an answer to prayer or to gain a testimony. But you don’t have to make a pilgrimage to Palmyra to know that Joseph Smith was a prophet or that the Book of Mormon is true. You don’t have to go to Jerusalem to know that Jesus is the Christ. If Heavenly Father found me in Somerset, New Jersey, He can answer the prayers of anybody, anywhere in the world. He knows us intimately, and He can answer us whatever our place or circumstances.”

After saving all our extra income and preparing ourselves spiritually, Mark and I traveled with our branch to the temple in May 2009. As we prepared for the trip, we saw firsthand the destructive hand of the adversary as well as the strengthening and uplifting love of our Heavenly Father. I got extremely sick the day before we were scheduled to leave for the temple. Some members had unexpected immigration problems, while others had trouble obtaining passports. Our friends who introduced my family to the gospel, the Espinosas, lost their jobs the week we were scheduled to attend the temple. Even worse, a member of our branch presidency who was scheduled to attend the temple for the first time lost his father to a sudden illness three days before our trip. But in the end the Lord strengthened each of us and made it possible for 42 members of the branch to attend the temple. Sixteen of us attended for the first time.

I was born Christian and did prayers and attended church every week. However, I could not imagine the love of God and Jesus’s great sacrifice until I came across one incident. This was on January 11, 2006, when I was 22 years old. All our families were gathering to commemorate the first death anniversary of my grandfather. So I was busy arranging things necessary for the families who would be attending the event. I had no sleep for almost three days. Still, I was assigned to bring the priest from another town to solemnize the event with a gospel message and prayer. Despite my tiredness, I had agreed to bring him.
In the snowy cold winter season, I got ready after showering early in the morning. I started driving but felt drowsy. I saw one town at a distance and thought that I could make it there and have tea. However, my eyes were so heavy that unconsciously I closed my eyes. Within a fraction of seconds, my high-speed car hit a tree beside the road. My snoozy eyes could see the car colliding with the tree. After a few minutes, I opened my eyes and found that I had had a major accident. I immediately stopped the running, smoky car engine. I found that the front glass was smashed and had fallen into pieces on me. But not even a single fragment of it pierced my body. I was thankful to God for that. Later, I discovered blood flowing from my mouth. I cupped my hands to get it and threw it out the window. But I realized it was not going to stop so I kept a big cloth in my mouth to overcome the blood loss. My legs were stuck underneath. While I was trying to get them free, my right leg got dislocated at femur (thigh bone) joint. So, I could not move. As it had happened early in the morning, and I could hardly find people to help. After a little while, I found someone and asked for help, but he was scared and ran away. Later, two people came and helped me get out of the car.
The car was totally crushed at the front side. It became completely useless. Eventually, people started surrounding me. Everyone was amazed at what had happened and wondering that I was still alive! I took someone’s mobile as mine was lost during mishap and phoned my father to explain the situation and urged him to take me to the hospital. My father was very much grieved when he saw me lying on the road. However, so great was God’s comfort upon me that I was able to recover very fast and started walking again in just one-and-a-half months.
That day, I was reminded of God’s gentle love when I heard the words from Psalms 119:50:
“This is my comfort in my affliction: for thy word hath quickened me.”
He truly protected me. Whenever I recall that situation, I would try to speculate how Heavenly Father must have been suffering while His beloved Son was crucified on the cross! How great was the pain Jesus bore for all of us to prepare a path so that we could all return back to our heavenly home! My heart is overwhelmed with gratitude for Him and Heavenly Father and Their unconditional love. My soul rejoices whenever I think of the truth that JESUS IS RISEN and that His divine role is successfully accomplished.

When my mission president announced my transfer, I thought he must be punishing me. A native of France, I was serving in France and Switzerland. Now my new companion and I were called to be zone leaders in Avignon—a city where there had not been a convert baptism for many months.
My companion and I spent our first evening in Avignon discussing our situation and trying to find motivation and strength. One solution would be just wait for things to happen. But when we thought of how short our missions were, we knew that we would hate to waste precious months.
We remembered the scripture in Matthew 19:26: “With God all things are possible.” [Matt. 19:26] What if we were in this city and region for a reason? What if the people of this city were not as hopeless as we had been led to believe? What if their problems were only the missionaries’ attitudes toward them? What if the Lord would prepare a recompense commensurate with our faith, our effort, and our desire?
We decided not to pay attention to what others had said about Avignon. In our prayers, we asked the Lord to guide us to a choice soul—one whom we would be able to prepare for baptism the following month. And we promised the Lord that we would work with all our strength.
Two days later, we met and began teaching Haroun—and we baptized him exactly one month after we had made our commitment to the Lord. Haroun referred us to his neighbors who lived above his apartment, so we also began to teach the Langer family. They, too, accepted the gospel and were baptized. It is wonderful to watch the miracle of conversion in people you love.
Since the apartment building where Haroun and the Langer family lived had only two stories, with one apartment in each, we realized that their entire building was now converted to the Church! We had achieved 100 percent success there!
After four months of work, sacrifices, miracles, and blessings, the little branch in Avignon had practically doubled. The missionaries of our district had prepared fifteen people to come into the Church. Now all of the missionaries wanted to serve in that city. Its reputation had been restored. All of the bad ideas about it had changed.
A year after my mission, I attended the Swiss Temple and had the surprise and extreme joy of seeing Brother and Sister Langer and their three children there. I witnessed them kneel at the altar and be sealed as a family. Brother Eric Langer is now a high priest—and is president of the Avignon branch.
I thanked the Lord for his generosity to me. And I thanked him for enlightening my companion and me on that first evening in Avignon when we decided to work with all our strength. What would have been the result if we had just waited for things to happen?

On Saturday, April 22, 1893, a special session for children under eight years of age was held so that many more Primary children could attend. Seven-year-old LeGrand Richards, later an Apostle, attended this session with his mother. He was impressed when he saw the prophet in the temple that day. He said later, “I always remembered exactly what President Woodruff looked like and what he wore on that day for the rest of my life.” Unlike his older sister, who saw an angel during an earlier dedication session, LeGrand said, “I looked around for angels, but I didn’t see any!”

Emily is a young wife who was in search of the truth. Her husband, Michael, was less interested in religion. When Emily became ill and spent some time in the hospital, Cali, a Relief Society sister who is also her neighbor, took the family meals, watched their baby, cleaned the house, and arranged for Emily to receive a priesthood blessing. These acts of charity softened Michael’s heart. He decided to attend Church meetings and to meet with the missionaries. Emily and Michael were recently baptized.

As soon as we accept the Lord’s invitation “Walk with me,” the nature of our priesthood service changes. It becomes all at once higher and nobler but also more achievable, because we know that we are not alone. I felt this most powerfully when President Thomas S. Monson laid his hands on my head nine years ago and blessed me as I began my service in my current calling. In that blessing, he recited these words of the Savior: “And whoso receiveth you, there I will be also, for I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up” (D&C 84:88).
I have relied upon that promise many times, and I have seen it fulfilled in many ways throughout my 72 years of priesthood service. It happened when I was a new Aaronic Priesthood holder with an assignment to pass the sacrament. Terrified that I would make a mistake, I went outside the chapel before the meeting started and prayed in desperation that God would help me. An answer came. I felt that the Lord was with me. I felt His confidence in me, and so I felt confidence in my part in His work.
It happened again while I was serving as a bishop. I received a phone call from a woman who had made a serious mistake and now faced a difficult, life-changing decision. As I visited with her, I felt I knew the answer to her problem, but I also felt strongly that I should not give her that answer—she needed to obtain it for herself. My words to her were “I believe God will tell you what to do if you would ask Him.” She later reported that she did ask Him and He did tell her.
On another occasion a phone call came when I was a bishop—this time from the police. I was told that a drunk driver had crashed his car through the glass into the lobby of a bank. When the bewildered driver saw the security guard with his weapon brandished, he cried, “Don’t shoot! I’m a Mormon!”
The inebriated driver was discovered to be a member of my ward, baptized only recently. As I waited to speak to him in the bishop’s office, I planned what I would say to make him feel remorseful for the way he had broken his covenants and embarrassed the Church. But as I sat looking at him, I heard a voice in my mind say, just as clearly as if someone were speaking to me, “I’m going to let you see him as I see him.” And then, for a brief moment, his whole appearance changed to me. I saw not a dazed young man but a bright, noble son of God. I suddenly felt the Lord’s love for him. That vision changed our conversation. It also changed me.
I learned important lessons from these experiences walking with the Lord in doing His work. I would like to share with you three of them. The first is that God notices and will support even the newest and youngest deacon. You need never feel that you are too small or too insignificant for Him to take notice of you and the service you are giving in His name.
The second lesson is that the Lord’s work is not just to solve problems; it is to build people. So as you walk with Him in priesthood service, you may find that sometimes what seems like the most efficient solution is not the Lord’s preferred solution because it does not allow people to grow. If you listen, He will teach you His ways. Remember that God’s work and glory is not simply to run an effective organization; it is “to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” (Moses 1:39). This is, after all, why He gives His priesthood authority to flawed mortals like you and me and invites us to participate in His work. Our progress is His work!
Now the third lesson: Walking with the Savior in priesthood service will change the way you look at others. He will teach you to see them through His eyes, which means seeing past an outward appearance and into the heart (see 1 Samuel 16:7). This is how the Savior was able to see Simon not as an impulsive fisherman but as Peter, the rock-solid future leader of His Church (see Luke 5:1–11). This is how He was able to see Zacchaeus not as the corrupt tax collector others saw but as an honest, upright son of Abraham (see Luke 19:1–9). If you walk with the Savior long enough, you will learn to see everyone as a child of God with limitless potential, regardless of what his or her past may have been. And if you continue walking with the Savior, you will develop another gift He has—the ability to help people see that potential in themselves and so repent.
My dear brethren of the priesthood, in many ways, we are like the two disciples who walked the road to Emmaus on that first Easter Sunday. It was Resurrection morning, but they were not yet sure there was a resurrection or what resurrection even meant. They had “trusted that [Jesus of Nazareth] should have redeemed Israel,” but they were “slow of heart to believe” everything the scriptures taught about resurrection. As they walked along and tried to reason it out together, “Jesus himself drew near, and went with them. But their eyes were holden that they should not know him.” (See Luke 24:13–32.)
I testify that when we walk the path of priesthood service, the Savior Jesus Christ goes with us, for it is His path, His way. His light goes before us, and His angels are round about us. We may lack a full understanding of what the priesthood is or how to exercise it as He does. But if we pay close attention to those moments when our hearts “burn within us” (Luke 24:32), our eyes can be opened and we will see His hand in our lives and in our service. I testify that we come to know Him best by working with Him and serving Him in the great work of bringing salvation to God’s children. “For how knoweth a man the master whom he has not served, and who is a stranger unto him, and is far from the thoughts and intents of his heart?” (Mosiah 5:13). Jesus Christ is our Master. This is His Church. It is His priesthood which we hold. May we each choose to walk with Him and to recognize how He walks with us.
I give you my solemn witness that Jesus is the Christ, our resurrected Lord. I bear you my testimony that the priesthood He has trusted us with is the power to speak and to act in His name. We are children of a loving Heavenly Father who answers our prayers and sends the Holy Ghost to strengthen us in every priesthood responsibility we are blessed to receive. Joseph Smith saw the Father and the Son. He received the keys of the priesthood, which have been passed on to President Thomas S. Monson, who exercises them today. I so testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.