Gospel Story Finder

Several biblical sites are within walking distance from Hebrew University in Jerusalem where I’m currently living as a student. I can visit the temple steps where Jesus may have taught or the Garden Tomb where some feel that His body was laid before His Resurrection. Living in the Holy Land is a blessing, and I’m grateful for every day I get to spend in this amazing place. But being here as a member of His Church isn’t easy.
Because of the non-proselyting policy in Israel, I’m not allowed to share my faith. I didn’t realize how hard this would be until one of my friends asked me for a copy of the Book of Mormon and I couldn’t give him one. It can feel a bit lonely and isolating to be a disciple of Christ at times.
But I’m also learning some strong lessons here; I can still share the light and love of Jesus Christ with anybody, and I can connect with the Spirit.
Although my education program is very secular, almost all the other students in my classes are believing Christians. We often sit after class and share opinions and insights on the lessons. These conversations have allowed me space where I can bear testimony of Jesus Christ.
As we speak with one another, I’m often reminded of Matthew 18:20: “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”
Although I can’t actively share the gospel in these conversations, this experience has taught me how talking with fellow disciples about Christ can invite the Spirit into our relationships and keep Him at the center of all we do.
I’ve realized that the only way I can really share the gospel of Jesus Christ here is through who I am. I can’t give people a Book of Mormon here, but I can pray with them, I can help them feel God’s love, and I can bear testimony that God does love them. As I simply strive to keep my covenants and follow the Lord’s commandments, I am testifying of my faith in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Laura Swenson from Idaho, USA, came home one day frustrated and in tears. She was not married, and her plans for college and the career she had dreamed of were falling apart. “I wondered if I was even going anywhere,” she wrote.

“I was prompted to turn to the Book of Mormon. In the first four verses of 1 Nephi 18, I found an answer to my concerns. These verses describe the ship that Nephi built to carry his family to the promised land. It was ‘of curious workmanship’ and not built ‘after the manner of men’; rather, it was built ‘after the manner which the Lord had shown’ (verses 1–2). Nephi consulted with the Lord often while building the ship. When the ship was finished, ‘it was good, and … the workmanship thereof was exceedingly fine’ (verse 4).

“I realized that my own journey was of ‘curious workmanship.’ It didn’t fit the patterns of men but would get me where I needed to go if I sought the Lord’s guidance. These verses were a beacon of light in a dark moment. My problems didn’t end overnight, but I found the perspective that I needed. I am now in a rewarding career for which I had never planned.”

I can attest to the truth of President Snow’s statement. Relief Society has always been comprised of those who put others first and self last. I remember that when I was a small boy during the Depression, my mother was the secretary-treasurer of the ward Relief Society. Back then dues were paid to assist those in need. Mother was not really a bookkeeper, so Dad would help her. The individual contributions were never so much as a dollar, but rather would be a quarter, a dime, a nickel, a few pennies.

I learned many lessons from my mother. I must have been a very active boy, for Mother was always telling me, “Slow down, Tommy, slow down. You’re on the verge of Saint Vitus’ dance!” You know, I never did know what Saint Vitus’ dance was. All I knew was that Mother said I was on the verge of it—and the way she spoke the words, I assumed it was a drastic ailment.

Since we lived just a block or two from the railroad tracks, frequently men, unemployed, without funds for food, would leave the train and come to our house for something to eat. Such men were always polite. They offered to do some work for the food. Indelibly imprinted on my mind is the picture of a gaunt and hungry man standing at our kitchen door, hat in hand, pleading for food. Mother would welcome such a visitor and would direct him to the kitchen sink to wash up while she prepared food for him to eat. She never skimped on quality or quantity; the visitor ate exactly the same lunch as did my father. As he wolfed down the food, Mother took the opportunity to counsel him to return to his home and his family. When he left the table, he had been nourished physically and spiritually. These men never failed to say thank you. Tears in their eyes revealed ever so silently the gratitude of their hearts.

I was having doubts about what I should study at the university. Most people spoke badly about the course that I wanted to take, so I prayed to the Lord to see if He agreed with my decision.
My answer came the following day while I was reading a general conference talk in the Liahona. I felt as though Heavenly Father was telling me He couldn’t choose for me—this was a decision that I would have to make alone. I knew that no matter what I chose, I would have to work hard to be successful.
I know that my prayer was answered. The confirmation of the Holy Ghost helped me make a decision. I’ve learned to give my best efforts and know that Heavenly Father will help me.

In 1992, time was a precious and limited commodity for Elder S. Mark Palmer and his wife, Jacqueline.
Elder Palmer was serving on the stake high council at the time. He was also working hard to build his professional career. Sister Palmer’s time was stretched just as thin. The Palmers were raising six children in their Austin, Texas, USA, home—including a six-month-old baby boy.
When their stake president invited them to serve as workers at the Dallas Texas Temple, they didn’t know how they could handle one more duty. But they accepted the call—and then prayerfully asked for the Lord’s help.
Making a monthly bus trip to serve all day in the temple required sacrifice and careful planning. “But it blessed our lives enormously,” says Elder Palmer.
Serving in the temple, he adds, prepared him spiritually for future priesthood callings. It also made him a better husband and father—and he found balance in his busy life.
“Going to the temple often helps you reset your priorities and be reminded of the covenants you have made,” he says.

Several years ago, I had the opportunity of traveling with the President of the Church to attend a series of area conferences. I will never forget the contrast between two conferences that were held just a few days apart.
The first area conference was held in a large arena, and as we sat on the stand, we noticed continuous movement by the people. We saw individuals throughout the arena leaning over and whispering to family members and friends seated next to them. Giving the members the benefit of the doubt, we thought that maybe the large building helped cause the lack of reverence.
A few days later, we were in another country attending another area conference in an arena much like the first. When we entered the building, however, an immediate hush came over the congregation. As we sat through the two-hour general session, there was very little movement among the people. Everyone listened intently. Great attention and respect were shown all the speakers, and when the prophet spoke, you could hear a pin drop.
After the meeting was over, I asked the priesthood leaders about what they had done to prepare the people for the conference. They told me their preparation had been simple. They had asked priesthood holders to explain to the members of their families, and also the families they home taught, that at an area conference they would have the privilege of hearing the words of the prophet and the apostles. The priesthood leaders explained that the reverence their people felt for God and His servants was the basis for their reverent behavior at the conference.

I listened not long ago to an example of one who surely seemed to lack this inner courage. A friend told of a spiritual and faith-promoting sacrament meeting she and her husband had attended in their ward. A young man who held the office of priest in the Aaronic Priesthood touched the hearts of the entire congregation as he spoke of gospel truths and of the joys of keeping the commandments. He bore a fervent, touching testimony as he stood at the pulpit, appearing clean and neat in his white shirt and tie.

Later that same day, as this woman and her husband drove out of their neighborhood, they saw this same young man who had so inspired them just a few hours earlier. Now, however, he presented a completely different picture as he walked down the sidewalk dressed in scruffy clothes—and smoking a cigarette. My friend and her husband were not only greatly disappointed and saddened, but they were also confused by how he could so convincingly seem to be one person in sacrament meeting and then so quickly seem to be someone else entirely.

Brethren, are you the same person wherever you are and whatever you are doing—the person our Heavenly Father wants you to be and the person you know you should be?

In an interview published in a national magazine, well-known American NCAA basketball player Jabari Parker, a member of the Church, was asked to share the best advice he had received from his father. Replied Jabari, “[My father] said, Just be the same person you are in the dark that you are in the light.” Important advice, brethren, for all of us.

But the Verano children enjoyed Primary, which then was held one afternoon a week. Sig or Ana would drive them to the chapel for the meeting. One afternoon, the car wouldn’t start. “Well, it isn’t my fault,” Sig told them. “I guess you won’t be able to go.”
Back in the house, six-year-old Edison wouldn’t give up. “Let’s pray,” he pleaded. So they knelt in prayer, then went back out to the car. To Sig Verano’s surprise, it started immediately.

Author’s Note: This is based on a true story from my ancestor.
Herding sheep was not Walt Cox’s idea of fun. Every time he walked down this dusty road to help his father, it seemed to get longer. Daydreaming as he walked, Walt found himself wandering near temple hill, looking for something new.
He heard a low rumbling noise and looked around, but it wasn’t a thundercloud or an approaching wagon. Walt realized that it was his stomach. Again. Times were hard in Manti, Utah, because the crops were not producing. Walt found himself talking aloud even though no one was around to hear.
“I’m sick of living on bread crumbs,” he said.
Walt tried to forget his hunger pains and began racing along the hill. He noticed a patch of green plants growing at the base of the temple hill. They looked different than anything he had seen before, so he carried an armful home to his mother.
Surprised to see Walt coming home so soon after she had sent him to help his father, Pamela arose to see what he had in his arms.
“What have you gotten into now, Walt?”
Without saying a word, Walt handed her the green plants.
Careful experimentation showed that the plants had a delicious flavor, and when eaten, produced no ill effects. They found the greens superior to any they had tasted before. Pamela kissed Walt on the cheek and then sent him off to spread the news to their neighbors about the amazing discovery Walt had made at the base of the temple hill.
Every day the greens were carefully cut to the ground. Each morning they had grown enough for another day’s cutting, and the people gave thanks to the Lord for the “manna weed.” Everyone was surprised to find that during the long season, the greens never made anyone sick, and no one really seemed to tire of their flavor.
The next spring, when the gardens produced abundantly, the greens stopped growing in their spot on temple hill.

By lunchtime, the last group of Richmond Ward youth are putting finishing touches on a wall at Svetlana Iskiyayev’s Village Shoe Shop. They have spent the morning tidying and painting the back room of the shop.
Svetlana and her husband left careers as a doctor and a lawyer when they came to Virginia from Russia several years ago. Now they are building their dreams here. And Helen Capehart, 16, is happy she can help them. She has invited two nonmember friends to help her today and hopes that they, as well as the Iskiyayevs, will see the light of the gospel through her service.
After all, examples of service are what drew Helen to the gospel herself just a short time ago. She says, “I’m so grateful that the Lord led me to this church, and for the awesome examples my friends here have been to me. My biggest example now is Jesus Christ, and I find so much joy in serving him. I hope I always have this feeling in me.”
Most likely, that feeling will stay with Helen because she has found an important key to sharing the gospel—service.
As youth from the Richmond Ward close their day of service with a testimony meeting, Helen once again captures the essence of this activity. “I don’t think that I’ve ever felt the Spirit so strong in my life as when I am serving the Lord,” Helen says. “Look at all those magazines with beautiful people on the covers. The world says that’s beauty. But when I was working today, I got paint and dirt all over me. And I think that is the Lord’s true definition of beauty.”

A Young Women teacher I know taught the Laurels in a very remote area with few Church members. The slim prospects for eternal companions discouraged her girls terribly. She taught them to cultivate a vision of their future home and marriage, urging them to pray actively for their future companions, who were surely alive somewhere. She taught them to live worthy of such a dream, every day, every night. All six of her Laurels ultimately found and married righteous young men in the temple.

While I was serving as president of the Guatemala Guatemala City North Mission, we received several new full-time missionaries. As I introduced myself to these missionaries, I told them the story of my conversion and baptism.
After I had related my story and was interviewing the new missionaries, one of them, Elder Benjamin Pixton, told me that David Tree was his grandfather. What a wonderful surprise! Elder Tree had baptized a nine-year-old boy in Glendive, Montana, and nearly 50 years later that boy was called as his grandson’s mission president.
When Elder Pixton’s parents and grandparents came to pick him up at the end of his mission, I had the pleasure of meeting David Tree again. During our visit, I showed him the Book of Mormon—with a message and promise he had written—that he had given to me the day I was baptized.
Elder Pixton’s mother told him that her father hadn’t talked much about his mission. He felt that he hadn’t been very successful because he baptized only two people: a single woman and a nine-year-old boy.
In gratitude I told him that because of his efforts, the rest of my family had eventually joined the Church and that my brother and I, along with our nine sons, had served full-time missions. Because of his missionary service, I said, countless people had been taught the gospel and had joined the Church.

“Tyler and Trey,” Mom said, “time to get up.” Tyler pulled the pillow over his head. Trey snuggled down into the warm covers.
“Please hurry,” Mom said. “Your breakfast is ready.”
Tyler slowly walked to the kitchen. Trey stopped to play with a toy.
“Come on, boys,” Mom said. She was wearing her gym clothes and feeding baby Benjamin his cereal. “Breakfast is getting cold, and I don’t want you to miss the bus. I have my exercise class today.”
After breakfast, Tyler and Trey ran down the street and around the corner to the bus stop. They got there just in time to see the school bus drive away. They sighed and slowly walked back home.
“We missed the bus,” Trey said when they got back home.
Mom frowned. “OK, get in the car. I have to change Benjamin’s diaper, and then I’ll take you to school.”
“Can you still go to your class?” Trey asked.
“Not today,” Mom said. “I’d miss more than half of it.”
After school, Mom took both boys to their dentist’s appointment and then to soccer practice. After practice, the brothers walked into the house tired and hungry. They smelled their favorite dinner.
“Enchiladas!”
That night for family home evening, Dad talked about helping Mom. “Let’s make a list,” he said. “What are some of the things Mom does for us?”
The brothers shouted out their answers.
“She fixes us breakfast and takes us places.”
“She cooks enchiladas for dinner.”
“She helps with our homework.”
The list grew and grew.
“Now let’s make another list,” Dad said. “What can we do to honor Mom?”
Tyler put his arm around Mom and hugged her. “We can be more helpful,” he said. “We can get up the first time she calls and get ready for school on time.”
Trey nodded. “Then Mom wouldn’t have to take us to school, and she wouldn’t miss her exercise class.”
The brothers called out more ideas.
“We could thank her for dinner.”
“We could clean up our room.”
“We could help clear the table after we eat.”
“We could help clean the house.”
“We could play with Benjamin when Mom is tired.”
The next morning Tyler woke up before Mom called. He woke up Trey and whispered, “Let’s do our best to help Mom today, OK?”
“OK!” Trey said. Soon they were both giggling as they got ready for school without being asked.
They walked into the kitchen, where Mom and Dad were already sitting.
“One-two-three! We’re here to help!” the boys chorused in unison.
Tyler and Trey set the table for breakfast. Then Trey unloaded the dishwasher, and Tyler fed baby Benjamin his cereal. After breakfast they both cleared the table and played with Benjamin.
They hugged Mom good-bye and hustled out the door to catch the bus.
“Doesn’t the sun feel good today?” Tyler asked as they walked.
“Yep,” Trey said. “And I feel good on the inside too.”

A few years ago we visited my mom’s friend in Texas. While visiting their family, their youngest child became sick. That night, I knelt down with her sister and explained how to pray. We prayed that her little sister would feel better. The next day she was feeling much better. I’m so glad we prayed for her to get better. My mom said she was proud of me for teaching my friend how I pray to Heavenly Father.

A few months prior to the start of my service as a full-time missionary for the Church, I was diagnosed with vocal nodules. Nodules are calluses that develop on your vocal cords as a result of consistent and overwhelming friction. Fortunately, I was still able to start my mission.
Then, three months into my mission, I went in for a checkup. I learned there was a bleed on my vocal cord and that I would be on almost complete vocal rest for the next eight months.
I started my vocal rest immediately. I would avoid talking each day until about 3:00 p.m., using sign language to communicate with my companion. After that, I would talk only when absolutely necessary. We made social media missionary work a much bigger part of our daily schedule, and my companion took the lead in all contacts and teaching appointments.
But as the vocal rest continued, instead of feeling better, I felt even more intense burning in my throat nearly all the time. I had to save the few words I could speak for special occasions, and my world grew very lonely. I hardly felt like myself anymore. The outgoing, bubbly, 20-year-old girl I was just a few short weeks earlier was now quiet, reserved, and struggling to know how she fit in. I found myself crying multiple times a day. As each unspoken thought or feeling was swallowed in silence, I was losing myself.
On one particular occasion, I felt more darkness than usual and prayed for some glimmer of hope. It was then that the words to one of my favorite hymns came to mind:
There is music in my soul today,
A carol to my King,
And Jesus listening can hear
The songs I cannot sing.1
I was immediately struck by the last phrase and overwhelmed with the love my Savior has for me. I knew in that moment that I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t invisible. And I certainly wasn’t forgotten.
One of my favorite phrases from the scriptures is “song of the heart” (Doctrine and Covenants 25:12). I realized I didn’t need my physical voice to be heard by Heavenly Father and by the Savior. They are always listening to every thought, prayer, heartache, and question, whether spoken out loud or not. I thought I was losing myself because I couldn’t speak, but without a word having ever been uttered, the songs sung by a silent, struggling young girl—the songs of my heart—rose to heaven and brought peace to my soul.
Although I have yet to receive my healing miracle, I have been empowered by the advice of President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) to “be patient, do your part, and express gratitude for the smallest improvement noted.”2 With every step in the right direction, I feel reassured that “this too shall pass.” In the last few months, I’ve been able to end my vocal rest earlier in the afternoon and talk with less pain.
I do not know when I will receive complete physical healing, but I have seen emotional healing come in many different ways. I’ve learned that the key to overcoming hardship is maintaining a close and direct relationship with God. This includes not only praying but also being quiet long enough to hear His voice. Instead of asking, “Why?” I started asking, “What did my trial give me today?” As I did, I began to see traces of God all around me.
Because of my trial, I have learned the importance of slowing down and connecting with my heavenly roots. I have also been blessed to appreciate more fully the musical gifts and abilities of others. Not being able to speak has allowed me to listen more to others and deepen my compassion for them. On the other hand, I have been reminded of the strength that comes from letting others help me.
Throughout my physical trials, I’ve come to learn that hope is not crossing our fingers or holding our breath for a desired outcome. Hope is not hanging on until we see the light at the end of the tunnel. Hope is the lantern we carry on our way through. It is what helps us move forward and shows us that we are not walking alone but with Heavenly Father and the Savior every step of the way.

1 Young Spencer Kimball spent many hours helping his father on the family farm. He tramped hay, planted seeds, weeded the garden, and painted the barn and house.
2 And every day Spencer milked the cows. There were no milking machines in those days, and it took the young boy quite a while to finish this chore.
3 Spencer liked to learn. He decided to use his “milking time” to learn new things, so he copied the words from Church hymns onto small pieces of paper and sang to the cows while he milked them.
4 He memorized many of his favorite scriptures the same way. Neighbors often joked about those cows being the most spiritual cows in the area!
5 From the barn doorway, Spencer’s father would watch him sitting on a three-legged stool, milking a cow and learning hymns and scriptures.
6 Spencer W. Kimball learned at a young age to be dedicated to the gospel and to seek after righteousness. He was well prepared to become the twelfth President of the Church.

Some years ago I was assigned by President David O. McKay to talk to a group of ministers. Two churches were holding a convention in Salt Lake, and present were their leaders from California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Utah, and Nevada. I talked to them for two and one-half hours at their request to tell them what Mormonism really is. I told them before I closed my talk, “When I was the Presiding Bishop of the Church, we were responsible for the building program of the Church. We had the plans prepared for the Los Angeles Temple. We took those plans and showed them to the presidency of the Church one day. We didn’t have the electrical or the plumbing plans complete, and yet we had 84 pages, about four feet long and two and one-half feet wide, with literally thousands and thousands of figures and drawings and designs. There was that temple built spiritually, yet there wasn’t a hole in the ground. All the builder needed to do was to know how to read and execute those plans, and he couldn’t leave out 25 pages and have a completed building.
“You can take those plans and go all over this world and try to fit them to every building in the world. There is only one building they will fit, and that is the Mormon temple down in Los Angeles. Oh, of course, you can find buildings that have materials in them like in that temple, such as electric wiring, plumbing, cement, and lumber, but you can’t find any other building that they will fit.”
Then I held up the Bible. I said, “Here is the Lord’s blueprint. Isaiah said the Lord has declared the end from the beginning. (See Isa. 46:10.) It is all here if you know how to understand it.”
I said, “You can take this, the Lord’s blueprint, and try to fit it to every church in the world. There is only one church that it will fit, and that is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Of course, you can find churches that have some things in them which are in this, the Lord’s blueprint, but you can’t find any other church in the world that this will fit.”
Then I proceeded to illustrate. I took a lot of texts. I will take just one to illustrate. I quoted from John 10:16, where the Savior said, “And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice; and there shall be one fold, and one shepherd.”
I said to these ministers, “Do any of you know why that is in the Bible? Do any of you know any church in the world that does know why it is in the Bible?” Then I tied it in to what I had told them about the promise of Joseph of a new land in the utmost bound of the everlasting hills. (See Gen. 49:26.)
“In describing that land, Moses uses the word precious five times (see Deut. 33:13–17),” I said. “Do any of you know where that land is?” Then I told them what I had already told them, that it was the land of America. I talked about the two records that were to be kept. (See Ezek. 37:15–20.) “Do any of you know anything about the record of Joseph? Do any of you know why it is mentioned in the Bible?” Then I told them that when the Savior visited the Nephites here in this land of America, He told them that they were the other sheep of whom He spoke. He said that never at any time had the Lord commanded Him to tell His disciples who the other sheep were—only that He had other sheep that were not of that fold. (See 3 Ne. 15:11–24.)
We have the whole truth if we would just realize it, and that is why the prophets call it “a marvellous work and a wonder.” I do not think you will do anything in this world that will bring you greater joy than bringing people to a knowledge of the truth. We experience that constantly in our missionary work.
A woman was converted up in Idaho. She comes down to see me often. She calls me after nearly every conference. She is a nurse. She gave me a check for $500 for the children’s hospital because, at the death of her husband, one of our Saints stepped in to tell her what she might expect in the future if she just knew the truth. I got a letter from her recently. She said she had found more love in this church than she had ever known in her life—even from her own mother.
I received a letter from a woman down in Alabama. She had lost her husband. She is a dignified, wonderful woman. The missionaries brought her the truth. Now she writes that she has never known such joy in all her life as she has known since the elders brought the gospel to her, and she is doing a wonderful work in the Church. We get reports like that constantly.
You remember the little story President Grant used to tell about the Scandinavian brother who was converted and came over to America. He hadn’t been taught too much about the Church. So the bishop went to him to teach him the law of tithing. He finally agreed to pay his tithing. Then the bishop wanted some fast offering. He agreed to the fast offering. Then they wanted to build a chapel. The man thought that ought to come out of the tithing, but before the bishop got through with him, he had paid his donation for the chapel. Then the bishop went to him to ask his son to go on a mission. He said, “That’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back.” Then this bishop said, “Brother So-and-so, whom do you love in this world more than anyone else, aside from your own family?” He thought a minute and said, “I guess I love that Mormon elder who came up to the Land of the Midnight Sun and taught me the gospel of Jesus Christ.” Then the bishop said, “Brother So-and-so, how would you like somebody to love your boy just like you love that missionary?” He said, “Bishop, you win again. Take him.”
You just cannot get away from it.
President Anthon H. Lund told us missionaries years ago when I went on my first mission that the people would love us. He said, “Don’t get lifted up in the pride of your heart and think they love you because you are better than other people. They will love you because of what you bring to them.” I didn’t know what he meant then, but before I left the little land of Holland, I knew. I shed a thousand times more tears when I left there than I did when I left my loved ones at home to go to Holland.
I went with my companion into one home where I had been the first missionary. One little short woman, with tears rolling clear down the front of her apron, looked up into my eyes and said, “Brother Richards, it was hard to see my daughter leave for Zion a few weeks ago, but it is a lot harder to see you go.” Then I knew what Brother Lund meant when he said, “They will love you because of what you bring to them.”
I went to tell a man good-bye who stood in the uniform of his country. He was tall and wore a little Dutch beard. He got down on his knees and took my hand in his and hugged it and kissed it. Then I think I understood what Brother Lund meant when he said they will love you.
If we go back far enough, each one of us is indebted to some missionary for our being in this Church. Why shouldn’t we assume the responsibility to pass it on?
I want to tell you, when you bear your testimony of the divinity of this work, it is going to do something.
Do you remember when Peter stood before the people, following the day of Pentecost, and they heard the gospel preached in their own tongue? They were pricked in their hearts, not just because of philosophy, but because of the witness that Peter bore that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of the living God.
I tell the missionaries when they go out into the field that they will never raise their voices to testify that Jesus is the Redeemer of the world, and that Joseph Smith was His Prophet, and that the Book of Mormon is true, without the Lord causing their bosoms to burn within them; and if they will bear their testimonies, with the Spirit of the Lord accompanying it, so that their words are not as sounding brass and tinkling cymbal, the words will pierce the hearts of the honest, and they can all be instruments to bring people into the Church.
I was in New York some time ago. I told the Saints I met with there that the president asked them all to be missionaries. I said, “Now, won’t you all stop and think for a minute of someone you know who isn’t a member of the Church—someone you work with, your neighbor, your friend, or a relative—someone you can bring to a knowledge of the truth? They will love you for it throughout the eternities. It would be worth more to them than if you would give them a million dollars.”
Not long after that I received a letter from a young man in Houston, Texas. He had been in New York attending a convention in his particular field and had attended our meeting. The letter went like this. He said, “Brother Richards, I heard you invite each one of us to be an instrument in the hands of the Lord in bringing someone to the knowledge of the truth. I wrote a letter to my wife and told her that I had a proposition to make to her when I came home.” When he got home he told her what I had said. He said, “There is a young man who works in the office with me. He knows I’m a Mormon, but I have never told him why. I would like to invite him over, with his wife, for supper some night. After supper we will have something to talk about.”
To make this story short, he wrote me a two-page letter telling me the joy he had had in leading this man and his wife into the waters of baptism. I have since met them down in Houston. I believe he is now the stake president of the Sunday School.
I heard a young missionary up in the Northwest say that he wouldn’t take a million dollars for the experience of his mission. I sat behind him and said to myself, “Would you take a million dollars for your first mission in the little land of Holland?” I began counting the people I had been privileged to bring into the Church, and I have lived to see their boys and girls and their grandchildren and now their great-grandchildren going on their missions. What kind of a man would I be to sell them out of the Church for a million dollars? The son of one man alone has done enough for this Church to more than compensate me for everything that I did.
Brother Matthew Cowley was one of the great missionaries of the Church. Talking in one of the BYU devotionals, on March 12, 1946, he made this statement. I would like to give it to you because it so clearly voices my feeling toward the great missionary program of the Church. He said:
“As you have heard, I have been on two missions to New Zealand. I have attended two universities, and I will say now at the outset, if I had my life to live over again and I had to choose between the missions to New Zealand and my education in two universities, I would select my missions to New Zealand from every standpoint: from the standpoint of education, from the standpoint of spiritual development, of character development, and every other angle of development that we might consider. I would not exchange one for the other for anything. And so, I am pleased to stand before you now, not as a lawyer, not as a college graduate, but as a missionary.” (Matthew Cowley, Man of Faith, p. 203.)
That is my feeling. I think the missionary program of the Church is the greatest thing in all this world, and it is a program that we can all be engaged in, no matter where our lot is cast—not only in the words that we speak, but in the nobility of our lives, to let our light so shine, that the world, seeing our good works, can glorify our Father which is in heaven. (See Matt. 5:16.)

Not too long ago I left a Committee of Expenditures meeting, went up to the hospital to administer to a sweet little soul who had been there. As I finished, for some reason I felt impressed and so I said, “I want you to know this hand shook hands with the prophet 15 minutes ago.” And she began to weep. And then a little lady across the room said, “Would you mind administering to me with that hand that shook hands with the prophet 15 minutes ago?” And I administered to her, and then a lady in the bed next to her said, “Would you mind administering to me with that hand that shook hands with the prophet a few minutes ago?” And I administered to her.

Let us review the program, the Lord’s program, for the care of our senior Saints. First, the responsibility rests with the individual to do all he or she can to be a contributing member of society and of the Church, and give service to friends and children and loved ones. All these give soul satisfaction so needed. When health is sufficient to warrant, the Church provides many blessed opportunities for great service. The rich experience of these loved ones can be of such importance to the Church.

A short time later a chapel was built for our branch. At that time Church members could help build the meetinghouses. My job was to pick up nails and screws that had fallen on the ground so they could be used again. It was a simple job, but it was very important to me. It taught me how to serve, and it helped prepare me for future Church service. Remember that even though you are young, the things you do now matter.

As I sat at my desk, pondering the events of the upcoming day, I caught a glimpse of the early sun trying to pierce the dark clouds. My eyes focused on a nearby calendar in the corner of the room. It was the first day of October, and I had been on the England Manchester Mission staff for nearly five months. I could not believe how quickly the time had passed.
My thoughts were interrupted as I gazed at the morning mail heaped upon my desk, just waiting to be sent to eager missionaries. I quickly sorted through the letters and found several addressed to the mission. I carefully tore open each envelope, expecting to find referrals, bills, or notices.
The last envelope, however, contained a letter and a return envelope. Puzzled, I read the letter.
“Dear Sir,“My name is Ian Holden, and I will soon be 16 years old. I am writing to you after reading the New Era magazine.
“Last Thursday, I went to Halingden Library, as I often do after school. I went into the reference/periodical room, where I usually read magazines, newspapers, or use the reference books. On looking through the magazines, I noticed one I had not seen before, the June 1976 edition of the New Era.
“After reading through the magazine and finding it very interesting, I decided to further my knowledge of the Latter-day Saints by asking my Religious Education teacher if I could borrow any books that she might have on the Mormons. The result was my reading a critical booklet. Although the booklet was very critical, I was still deeply attracted to finding out more.
“Therefore, I must ask you to help me find my ‘new era’ in life. Please could you send me further details of the Latter-day Saints. I know that my parents would not mind me becoming a Mormon.
“Please reply soon.
“Yours Thankfully,”Ian Holden
My head pounded with excitement as I shared the letter with the rest of the office staff. I immediately looked up the missionaries in Ian’s area. He lived in an area assigned to the zone leaders in one of the Preston zones. The zone leaders happened to be coming in that very morning for supplies.
When the zone leaders, Elders Brown and Johnston, arrived, I rushed them into my office and let them have the news. They were also very excited and said they would drop by the following evening and try to meet with Ian.
Meanwhile, I quickly sat down to the typewriter and composed a short note to Ian, telling him that the missionaries would be coming by. I added a few brief words on how his letter had touched me, and ended with my testimony. I popped it in the letterbox right before the morning mail was collected.
Four days had not passed when I received a letter from Ian. He said that Elders Brown and Johnston had come by, and he expressed some of his inner feelings concerning Joseph Smith and his gratitude for the missionaries who brought this message.
He also recounted a little opposition that he was going through in gaining a strong witness of the truth. It was evident that he was studying the message out very deeply and sincerely in his mind. He had become a little depressed and expressed his feelings of doubt. I wasn’t too worried because many investigators experience feelings of doubt before a real testimony is gained.
I quickly jotted another brief note to Ian, trying to motivate and comfort him. I also sent an inspiring poem that my mother had sent me.
I kept in close contact with Elder Brown and Elder Johnston as I was anxious to hear of Ian’s progression. They assured me things were fine.
Another week passed, and I received yet another letter. This letter was full of excitement. Ian openly expressed how he had felt as he received his answer. His letter radiated gratitude for the gospel and what it was already doing for him.
He said, “I know that Satan will try harder, but now I have a stronger armour. My armour of faith is growing. In contrast to last week, which was one of depression, I have experienced great happiness. Today, for the first time in many years, I almost cried with happiness.” He also expressed another very special thought—he hoped to serve a mission. My head burned within me as I tucked the treasured letter in my desk drawer.
Ian’s next letter contained the exciting news of his upcoming baptism on the 26th of October. He said, “When the elders gave me the challenge, my eyes quickly filled with tears and I found it hard to give a reply.” He also mentioned that he had the highest respect for all missionaries, and he was looking forward to the day when he would be a missionary himself.
Weeks have passed, and Ian continues to write to me and share with me his growing experiences as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Many people throughout the world are waiting to discover this “new era,” the gospel of Jesus Christ, as was this curious young man, Ian Holden.
Elder Mark E. ChristensenEngland Manchester Mission