Gospel Story Finder

Since President Thomas S. Monson announced the change in age for missionary service, youth all over the Church have eagerly responded not only to the invitation to serve but also to the invitation to prepare to serve. And one way to prepare is to learn more about what’s in store if you become a full-time missionary.
Some youth in Norway did exactly that during a day-long “Missionary Experience” hosted by one of the wards in their stake.
The youth gathered at the meetinghouse in a room that represented a missionary training center. “We received an assignment to learn about a country,” says Jakob R. “It gave us a feeling for what it must be like to receive a mission call and know that you could be called to a place that’s different from what you’re used to.”
“Then we went next door to meet a returned missionary who was playing the role of a mission president,” says Simon W. The returned missionary and other returned missionaries talked about what to expect while serving a mission. “I thought it was really neat to learn from returned missionaries what to expect during a full-time mission,” Simon says. Participants also received a name badge, were assigned a companion, and were instructed to remain with their companion at all times.
Workshops taught the youth about developing spiritually but also about managing temporal needs such as doing laundry, following a budget, and staying in good physical condition.
“I particularly enjoyed the workshop about how to start gospel conversations,” says Inger Sofie J. “That’s something I can start doing right now.”
“I enjoyed discussing how to use Preach My Gospel,” says Karl Frederik O. “I had always thought that missionaries had their own list of scriptures to learn, but I found out that what I’m already doing in seminary will help me as a missionary and so will what I’m already studying in Preach My Gospel.”
Many young men said that one of the most memorable workshops included hands-on experience with ironing a white shirt. “It reminded me that there are a lot of practical skills I can work on to get ready for a full-time mission,” says Jakob.
“I learned that there is a lot I can be doing right now to join with the full-time missionaries serving here so that we are all part of the same team,” says Sarah R. “Members are missionaries too.”
As a reminder that missionaries serve all over the world, refreshments featured recipes from a variety of nations. “That reminded me that I should try new foods now so that I’m used to trying things I don’t eat all the time. That will help me to adjust more quickly if I’m called to a place where they eat things I’m not used to,” says Simon.
“At the end of the day, after we heard the testimonies of two of the youth and two newly returned missionaries, we sang the hymn ‘Called to Serve,’” says Liss Andrea O. “I felt that if I keep singing this hymn all the time, I will have a constant reminder that when we are missionaries, we are serving Heavenly Father and He will bless us.”
By the end of the day, the youth in the stake understood that not only are they preparing for potential missionary experiences but that they can have missionary experiences right now and through the rest of their lives.

During a trip to South America a few years ago, I spoke with a stake president whose stake had experienced over 50 percent unemployment during the previous three years. I knew the stake had received less than $200 from the Area office during that period. I asked him how the members had been able to survive without a large infusion of outside help. His answer was the families had helped each other—not just father, mother, sons, and daughters, but uncles, aunts, and cousins. When a cousin got a job, the money earned went to benefit everyone. In addition, ward members looked after each other and shared what they had, however so meager. With tears in his eyes he explained how close his stake members were to each other and to the Lord. Their spirituality had increased manyfold. Did they have the welfare program? Yes—and in its purest form.

The chain reaction continued as Ana Carolina reached out to a new investigator. Tatiane Pimenta, age 16, began attending church when she and her family were introduced to the Church by Sister Pimentel. “I felt very timid because I didn’t know anyone,” Tatiane says. “I quietly stayed in the corner.”
But soon things began to change for Tatiane. “I started feeling good because I made a friend.” In one class, Sister Pimentel introduced a game in which all the girls put their shoes in the middle of the floor, put on someone else’s, then got to know the owner of the shoes they had picked. “That’s how I started talking to Ana Carolina,” remembers Tatiane. “She became my first friend, a friend who encouraged me a lot. Because of her, I felt able to join the Church.”

A number of years ago Peter Snell of New Zealand was the best in the world in the one-mile race and the 880-yard race. I had the opportunity of meeting him in Wellington, New Zealand. Later on in the week someone said to me, “Would you like to see where Peter Snell does his training and his running?” I answered yes. I was shocked when I was taken down to the beach—not to a track, but to the beach. I asked, “Where does he run?” My friends said, “He runs out close to the water where the sand comes up over his feet. There it is difficult to pull his feet out of the sand after each stride.” I had an idea why, but I said to my friends, “Why does he run there?” They answered, “When he gets on a track in competition, he feels like he’s floating because he doesn’t have to pull his feet up out of the wet sand.”
In my mind I could see him running on that difficult track. I learned from him. A little later my friends took me to another place where Peter Snell trained, up in the mountains. When I looked for a track again, they said, “No, he runs up the steep hills. Then, when he is on the level at track meets, it is pretty easy to run.” That is why he breaks records, and that is why I remember his example. They told me he ran every day regardless of the weather conditions or how tired he was.

The scriptures have blessed others. Many of you have read the book The Hiding Place, by Corrie ten Boom. The scriptures were an answer for her in a time much more bleak than most of us will ever have to face.
Corrie and her sister, Betsy, lived Christian lives in prewar Holland. They responded to the brutality against Jewish people by hiding them in the family home. When the hiding place was discovered, the sisters were shipped to a death camp where they suffered all the deprivation heaped upon the Jewish prisoners.
In an unusual way Corrie was able to keep a Bible. She led scripture readings with the other prisoners. Their outer world of suffering grew “harder and harder.” But she described their inner life as just the opposite. In her words:
“Our Bible was the center of an ever-widening circle of help and hope. Like waifs clustered around a blazing fire, we gathered about it, holding out our hearts to its warmth and light. The blacker the night around us grew, the brighter and truer and more beautiful burned the word of God. …
“Life … took place on two separate levels. One, the observable, external life, grew every day more horrible. The other, the life we lived with God, grew daily better, truth upon truth, glory upon glory” (Corrie ten Boom, The Hiding Place, New York City: Bantam Books, 1974, pp. 194–95).

For Noah, it was an ark. King Benjamin went with a tower. The Brother of Jared settled on barges. And as for Sarah Christensen from Montana, USA? Well, she decided that she wanted to build houses.
Hermana Christensen, now a full-time missionary serving in the Minnesota Minneapolis Mission, once got a little irritated that a mission was getting in the way of her construction goals—and it wasn’t even her own mission!
Let’s start at the beginning.
“I’ve been helping my dad build things my whole life,” she says. “I got used to power tools and construction, and I just really grew to love it. So, when I was 16 years old, I decided that I wanted to start my own construction business.”
“My dad has taught me to put things together, from two boards to a whole house,” Sarah says.
Sarah first remodeled a house one year over the summer. She loved it so much that she took on another remodeling project the next year. Eventually, she decided to tackle an even bigger project—a “spec” house, or a house that she and her team of subcontractors would build from foundation to finish, hopefully to sell at a profit.
Demolition day! Sarah takes a hammer to a bathroom in one of her projects.
Starting a business was no easy project, especially because Sarah was still busy with high school and cross country running.
Sarah started her own construction company when she was 16 years old.
“I learned so much,” she says. “I had to use a checkbook to pay people, which I’d never done before. I had to become comfortable talking to strangers who were my subcontractors. I’ve also learned how to deal with the stress of running a company, which was not always fun. There’s always the worry that you won’t make the money needed to break even when selling a house.”
But despite the worries and stresses that come with running a business, Sarah never had to face her big dreams alone.
“It always worked out, and I know that’s because of the Lord,” she says. “This business thing wasn’t possible without Him. He helped me through the bad days, the hard work, everything.”
The close relationship Sarah has with her family comes from working together.
Sarah’s family also supported her at every turn—which leads us back to that mission that was interfering with her plans.
Her older brother Tyler planned to help Sarah build a house when he got home from his mission. But one day, he called her with the news that he had been asked to extend his missionary service.
“I was so mad at him,” she admits. “I was like, ‘Tyler, you can’t accept that. I have this planned out.’ And he said, ‘The Lord’s work is more important than your work.’ That hit me. I knew he was right and that I needed to trust God’s plan.”
Sarah’s family welcomed her brother Tyler home after he extended his mission.
Photograph courtesy of Sarah Christensen
Whether she’s getting help from her dad or help from Heavenly Father, Sarah knows she’s not alone.
Tyler’s example inspired Sarah to start thinking about serving her own mission. “I realized how many people my brother helped come unto Christ, and I also saw how much he had come unto Christ himself. I wanted to have similar experiences,” Hermana Christensen says. “I started to seriously study the gospel and found that the more my testimony and my relationship with my Savior grew, the more I wanted to share what I had.”
Sarah made the choice to put her construction business on hold and serve the Lord. This decision has given her powerful new insights.
“The number one thing my mission has taught me is that the gospel completely changes lives,” Hermana Christensen says. “Growing up in the Church made it hard for me to see how significant the gospel was in my life.
“Here on my mission, I am surrounded by people who do not know about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. When they learn that they are children of God and He has a plan for them, it changes their lives. It is the coolest thing to witness and be a part of. I had an understanding of that before my mission, but now I know that the gospel of Jesus Christ is crucial for joy in this world and in the world to come.”
Hermana Christensen (right) and her companion Hermana Taylor (left) love to serve any way they can.
Photograph courtesy of Sarah Christensen
To other youth who are thinking of serving a mission, Hermana Christensen says, “Have faith and do not fear. Missions are not easy, but they are worth it. God will bless you in unimaginable ways as you make a decision to be one of His servants.”
Though she misses being able to build houses while she serves, Hermana Christensen doesn’t regret her choice. “Of course, there is potential growth that my business could have made while I’m a full-time missionary,” she says. “But I know the Lord will bless my sacrifice of leaving it behind for a bit. My business can wait, but the Lord’s work cannot!”
Hear more from Sarah on the Gospel Living app this month!

I have some sad news. Will has dropped us. That means that he doesn’t want us to teach him anymore, and he doesn’t want to join the Church. Maybe someday he’ll change his mind. I learned an important lesson from him. Elder Watts and I were trying to convince Will that what we were teaching him was true. We forgot that a person has to listen to the Spirit to know that the Church is true and that you can’t convince someone with mere words. I hope that I never forget that again.

Recently I visited the Missionary Training Center at Provo, Utah, where missionaries who have been called to serve throughout the world are devotedly learning the fundamentals of the languages spoken by the people to whom they shall teach and testify.
Vaguely familiar to me were the conversations in Spanish, French, German, and Swedish. Totally foreign to me and perhaps to most of the missionaries were the sounds of Japanese, Chinese, and Finnish. One marvels at the devotion and total concentration of these young men and women as they grapple with the unfamiliar and learn the difficult.
I am told that on occasion when a missionary in training feels that the Spanish he is called upon to master appears overwhelming or just too hard to learn, he is placed during the luncheon break next to missionaries studying the complex languages of the Orient. He listens. Suddenly Spanish becomes not too overpowering, and he eagerly returns to his study.
There is one language, however, that is understood by each missionary: the language of the Spirit. It is not learned from textbooks written by men of letters, nor is it acquired through reading and memorization. The language of the Spirit comes to him who seeks with all his heart to know God and to keep His divine commandments. Proficiency in this language permits one to breach barriers, overcome obstacles, and touch the human heart.
The Apostle Paul, in his second epistle to the Corinthians, urges that we turn from the narrow confinement of the letter of the law and seek the open vista of opportunity which the Spirit provides. I love and cherish Paul’s statement: “The letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life.” (2 Cor. 3:6.)
In a day of danger or a time of trial, such knowledge, such hope, such understanding bring comfort to the troubled mind and grieving heart. The entire message of the New Testament breathes a spirit of awakening to the human soul. Shadows of despair are dispelled by rays of hope, sorrow yields to joy, and the feeling of being lost in the crowd of life vanishes with the certain knowledge that our Heavenly Father is mindful of each of us.
The Savior provided assurance of this truth when He taught that even a sparrow shall not fall to the ground unnoticed by our Father. He then concluded the beautiful thought by saying, “Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.” (Matt. 10:29–31.)
We live in a complex world with daily challenges. There is a tendency to feel detached—even isolated—from the Giver of every good gift. We worry that we walk alone.
From the bed of pain, from the pillow wet with the tears of loneliness, we are lifted heavenward by that divine assurance and precious promise, “I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.” (Josh. 1:5.)
Such comfort is priceless as we journey along the pathway of mortality, with its many forks and turnings. Rarely is the assurance communicated by a flashing sign or a loud voice. Rather, the language of the Spirit is gentle, quiet, uplifting to the heart and soothing to the soul.
At times, the answers to our questions and the responses to our daily prayers come to us through silent promptings of the Spirit. As William Cowper wrote:
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm. …
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
(Hymns, no. 48.)
We watch. We wait. We listen for that still, small voice. When it speaks, wise men and women obey. We do not postpone following promptings of the Spirit.
To address such a sacred subject, may I refer not to the writings of others, but to the actual experiences of my life. I testify to their truth, for I lived them. I share with you today three cherished examples of what President David O. McKay identified as “heart petals”—the language of the Spirit, the promptings from a heavenly source.
First, the inspiration which attends a call to serve.
Second, the gratitude of God for a life well lived.
Third, the knowledge that we do not walk alone.
Every bishop can testify to the promptings which attend calls to serve in the Church. Frequently the call seems to be not so much for the benefit of those to be taught or led as for the person who is to teach or lead.
As a bishop, I worried about any members who were inactive, not attending, not serving. Such was my thought as I drove down the street where Ben and Emily lived. They were older—even in the twilight period of life. Aches and pains of advancing years caused them to withdraw from activity to the shelter of their home—isolated, detached, shut out from the mainstream of daily life and association.
I felt the unmistakable prompting to park my car and visit Ben and Emily, even though I was on the way to a meeting. It was a sunny weekday afternoon. I approached the door to their home and knocked. Emily answered. When she recognized me, her bishop, she exclaimed, “All day long I have waited for my phone to ring. It has been silent. I hoped that the postman would deliver a letter. He brought only bills. Bishop, how did you know today was my birthday?”
I answered, “God knows, Emily, for He loves you.”
In the quiet of the living room, I said to Ben and Emily, “I don’t know why I was directed here today, but our Heavenly Father knows. Let’s kneel in prayer and ask Him why.” This we did, and the answer came. Emily was asked to sing in the choir—even to provide a solo for the forthcoming ward conference. Ben was asked to speak to the Aaronic Priesthood young men and recount a special experience in his life when his safety was assured by responding to the promptings of the Spirit. She sang. He spoke. Hearts were gladdened by the return to activity of Ben and Emily. They rarely missed a sacrament meeting from that day to the time each was called home. The language of the Spirit had been spoken. It had been heard. It had been understood. Hearts were touched and lives saved.
For my second example I turn to the release of a stake president in Star Valley, Wyoming—even the late E. Francis Winters. He had served faithfully for the lengthy term of twenty-three years. Though modest by nature and circumstance, he had been a perpetual pillar of strength to everyone in the valley. On the day of the stake conference, the building was filled to overflowing. Each heart seemed to be saying a silent thank-you to this noble leader who had given so unselfishly of his life for the benefit of others.
As I stood to speak following the reorganization of the stake presidency, I was prompted to do something I had not done before, nor have I done so since. I stated how long Francis Winters had presided in the stake; then I asked all whom he had blessed or confirmed as children to stand and remain standing. Then I asked all those persons whom President Winters had ordained, set apart, personally counseled, or blessed to please stand. The outcome was electrifying. Every person in the audience rose to his feet. Tears flowed freely—tears which communicated better than could words the gratitude of tender hearts. I turned to President and Sister Winters and said, “We are witnesses today of the prompting of the Spirit. This vast throng reflects not only individual feelings but also the gratitude of God for a life well lived.” No person who was in the congregation that day will forget how he felt when he witnessed the language of the Spirit of the Lord.
Finally, I testify that we do not walk alone.
Stan, a dear friend of mine, was taken seriously ill and rendered partially paralyzed. He had been robust in health, athletic in build, and active in many pursuits. Now he was unable to walk or to stand. His wheelchair was his home. The finest of physicians had cared for him, and the prayers of family and friends had been offered in a spirit of hope and trust. Yet Stan continued to lie in the confinement of his bed at the university hospital. He despaired.
Late one afternoon I was swimming at the Deseret Gym, gazing at the ceiling while backstroking width after width. Silently, but ever so clearly, there came to my mind the thought: “Here you swim almost effortlessly, while your friend Stan languishes in his hospital bed, unable to move.” I felt the prompting: “Get to the hospital and give him a blessing.”
I ceased my swimming, dressed, and hurried to Stan’s room at the hospital. His bed was empty. A nurse said he was in his wheelchair at the swimming pool, preparing for therapy. I hurried to the area, and there was Stan, all alone, at the edge of the deeper portion of the pool. We greeted one another and returned to his room, where a priesthood blessing was provided.
Slowly but surely, strength and movement returned to Stan’s legs. First he could stand on faltering feet. Then he learned once again to walk—step by step. Today one would not know that Stan had lain so close to death and with no hope of recovery.
Frequently Stan speaks in Church meetings and tells of the goodness of the Lord to him. To some he reveals the dark thoughts of depression which engulfed him that afternoon as he sat in his wheelchair at the edge of the pool, sentenced, it seemed, to a life of despair. He tells how he pondered the alternative. It would be so easy to propel the hated wheelchair into the silent water of the deep pool. Life would then be over. But at that precise moment he saw me, his friend. That day Stan learned literally that we do not walk alone. I, too, learned a lesson that day: Never, never, never postpone following a prompting.
As we pursue the journey of life, let us learn the language of the Spirit. May we remember and respond to the Master’s gentle invitation: “Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him.” (Rev. 3:20.) This is the language of the Spirit. He spoke it. He taught it. He lived it. May each of us do likewise, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Every time I attend my Church meetings, I feel a great desire to go every week, but for various reasons I don’t. I find plenty of excuses. I’m a carrier of HIV, and my life has gotten pretty complicated. It gets more complicated every day. But the article by Juli Housholder, “It’s Just Hair,” gave me the strength I needed to get organized and set some new goals.
The same thing happened to me that happened to Juli. I lost almost all my hair—in my case because of the strong medications I’ve had to take to keep me alive. But her testimony really woke me up, and now I’m getting back on the path. I had lost sight of my goal, which is to return to the presence of my Heavenly Father. I’m just now starting to realize that because of my illness I had forgotten the Lord.
Thanks for the testimonies you publish from members all across the world and for the talks by our leaders.Name withheld

As a teenager, Sister Kalombo Rosette Kamwanya from the D.R. Congo, now serving in the Côte d’Ivoire Abidjan West Mission, fasted and prayed for three days to find the direction God wanted her to take. In a remarkable night vision, she was shown two buildings, a chapel and what she now realizes was a temple. She began to search and soon found the chapel she had seen in her dream. The sign said, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” Sister Kamwanya was baptized and then her mother and her six brothers. Sister Kamwanya said, “When I received the gospel, I felt like a captured bird that had been liberated. My heart was filled with joy. … I had the assurance that God loves me.”9

That evening as we were finishing dinner, Mom announced, “A letter came from Grandma today.”
“What did she say?” I asked, excited.
“How’s her garden?” Bryce wanted to know.
Mom smiled. “I think your prayers have been answered.”
“How?” I questioned.
“An LDS family down the street from her knew that she needed help, so they decided to make that a family project. At least once a week they go there and lend her a hand.”
Bryce looked across the table at me and grinned. “Maybe we prayed that family over to Grandma’s garden.”

The president of the Cardston Temple told me this incident. He said, “A group of young people came to go through the temple for the first time to do baptisms for the dead. After they had gone through two or three baptismal sessions and were about ready to go back home, I suggested that they could come down to my office and I would attempt to answer any questions they might have. I talked to them about their own baptisms. I said, ‘After your own baptism, you were told to receive the Holy Ghost, which means that the Holy Ghost will guide and bless you if your are worthy. If anyone should oppose you, or bring harm to you, you can overcome that opposition by the influence of the Holy Ghost.’
“I looked around and saw a pleasant young girl sobbing. She said, ‘When I was baptized, my mother cursed me. Every time I would go out she was vile and called me wicked names. When I told her I was going to the temple, she profaned and said I was no daughter of hers. I have been fasting ever since I left home that here in the temple I would be given a guide and the power to overcome the opposition of my mother. I was going away disappointed. But now, at the last moment, you have given me the key.’’A smile lit up on her face as she said, ‘I am going to bring Mother within the influence of the power of the Holy Ghost which I have a right to enjoy.’”
Then the president said, “Weeks went by, and a letter came from this girl. The letter said, ‘When I returned home and entered the house, mother greeted me similarly to the way she had when I left, by profaning. On other occasions I had fought back, but this time I walked over and put my arm around her shoulder and said, ‘Mother I am not going to quarrel with you today. I want you to come over on the couch and sit down beside me. I want to tell you something.’ This surprised Mother. As we sat down, we touched cheeks so that in actuality the Spirit would emanate from me to her, and I bore my testimony. I told her what a wonderful experience I had in the temple. And to my amazement, Mother burst into tears and begged my forgiveness.’
“The girl closed her letter by saying, ‘We are now preparing Mother to be baptized a member of the Church.’”

You know from studying Church history that we have tried to live as one in a variety of settings. A story from one of those tries, in Orderville, Utah, gives us a clue as to why it is so hard.
Orderville was founded in 1870 and 1871 by people who wanted to live the united order; in 1875 they began the order. They built housing units in a square, with a common dining hall. They built a storehouse, shoe shop, bakery, blacksmith shop, tannery, schoolhouse, sheep shed, and woolen factory. They grew and made nearly everything they needed, from soap to trousers. They had carpenters, midwives, teachers, artists, and musicians. They produced enough surplus that they could sell it in neighboring towns for cash: with that they built up a capital fund to buy more land and equipment.
The population rose to seven hundred people. One hundred and fifty of them gave Orderville a special advantage: they had come to Orderville from the mission on the Muddy River, where they had nearly starved. When those who had been called to the Muddy were released, they were in near destitution. Twenty-four of those families went to Long Valley, founded Orderville, and pledged all they had to the Lord. They didn’t have much, but their poverty may have been their greatest contribution. Their having almost nothing provided a basis for future comparison that might have guaranteed gratitude: any food or clothing or housing that came to them in Orderville would be treasure compared to their privation on the Muddy mission.
But time passed, the railroad came, and a mining boom put cash in the hands of people in the neighboring towns. They could buy imported clothes, and they did. The people in Orderville were living better than they had in years, but the memory of poverty on the Muddy had faded. They now focused on what was in the next town. And so they felt old-fashioned and deprived.
One ingenious boy acted on the discontent he felt when he was denied a new pair of pants from the Orderville factory because his were not worn out yet. He secretly gathered the docked lambs’ tails from the spring crop. He sheared the wool from them and stored it in sacks. Then, when he was sent with a load of wool to sell in Nephi, he took his sacks along and exchanged them for a pair of store pants. He created a sensation when he wore the new-style pants to the next dance.
The president of the order asked him what he had done. The boy gave an honest answer. So they called him into a meeting and told him to bring the pants. They commended him for his initiative, pointed out that the pants really belonged to the order, and took them. But they told him this: the pants would be taken apart, used as a pattern, and henceforth Orderville pants would have the new store-bought style. And he would get the first pair.
That did not quite end the pants rebellion. Orders for new pants soon swamped the tailoring department. When the orders were denied because pants weren’t yet worn out, boys began slipping into the shed where the grinding wheel was housed. Soon, pants began to wear out quickly. The elders gave in, sent a load of wool out to trade for cloth, and the new-style pants were produced for everyone.
You know that isn’t a happy ending. There were many challenges Orderville faced in the ten years they lived the order there. One of them they never really conquered. It was the problem of not remembering. That is a problem we must solve, too.

I recall one writing assignment I had while I was in college. It was a political science position paper. I had gotten to a point where I had writer's block; I couldn't get anywhere. I decided that I ought to pray and I did and a thought came to me: "Write as if you are writing in your journal." That's not the usual counsel for writing an analysis paper but I did and the ideas flowed. I finished the paper, went back and edited it, turned it in, and received a higher grade on that paper than I ever did in Sister Feste's class. This ability to gain our own witness, our own guidance from the Lord, may be critical to becoming leaders and peacemakers the world is hungering for.

Walk around the ashes and rubble where Rachel used to live, and of course you notice all that’s gone. But even after the fire that destroyed Paradise, California, you’ll notice Rachel’s faith as she speaks of how she has seen God’s hand in her life.
Richard M. Romney, photographer
We’re used to having fires in this area, so when I saw the sky looking really smoky that morning, I wasn’t too worried. I was somewhat new to the area, but those who’ve lived in Paradise for a long time—especially those who live by the canyons—have been evacuated before.
This time, however, high winds carried the fire so fast that officials completely underestimated how long it would take to reach us. Most of us had no idea what was going on until the town was burning everywhere. Our situation went from “slightly concerned” to “emergency! Get out!” within one hour.
The evacuation was chaotic—and fast. Most people had to drive through fire to get out of town. As I drove out with my kids, smoke was everywhere. Embers had blown all over town and fires erupted everywhere. A lot of people left with their homes on fire or their neighbor’s home on fire. I didn’t know if our home would be destroyed or not.
As we drove, I had a conversation with God. I prayed that we would get out safely and that our home would be spared. We had only been in our house about two years. As a family, we worked together on improvements. My husband and children helped me redo the countertops and the floors. We called it our “cabin in the woods.” I loved my home, but I tried to be strong enough to submit my will to God’s will.
A few days later, we found out our home was gone. We had made it beautiful, and now it had burned down. But looking back, the time we spent in our house was such a wonderful time. I’m so grateful that God gave our family that time in that house.
One of the most beautiful things I’ve seen and heard as a result of this fire is the testimonies of people with what I call “big faith.” These people saw how God was in the details of their lives. “Big faith” like this is not something you can get overnight. It takes a long time to build.
It reminds me of the parable of the ten virgins. If you don’t have your lamp full, the time to turn to God is before the crisis. When disasters like this fire happen, that’s not the time to start filling your lamp. It’s like when you get in the car and ask your kids to put their seat belts on. Imagine them saying, “I don’t need a seatbelt. When I hear you screaming, then I’ll buckle up!” In a crisis they’d never have time.
After the fire, I’ve noticed that people here with “oil in their lamps” have not suffered as much. They’ve still been mourning, they still have challenges, but they still believe that God cares about them and is in the details of their lives. They know that God is powerful enough that He could have spared their homes from the fire, but they also don’t get mad when things aren’t fair. They accept His will. That’s what I call “big faith.”
Everyone who believes in God has seen His hand in this fire. You probably couldn’t prove to somebody that there’s a God because of one huge miracle, but God has brought about a million small miracles here in Paradise. If you believe in God, you can see His hand everywhere. Even though it’s been challenging, it has also been miraculous. God has helped us learn exactly what we need to learn.
Having “big faith” didn’t spare anyone from mourning their losses. One of the hardest parts about this whole experience is watching the mourning of those I love. I’ve probably done more mourning with them than I’ve done on my own account. Yes, it’s been challenging for my family, and we lost a lot. But we also gained a lot.
Members of the Chico California Stake did so much to serve those affected by the fire. Every person who came to the stake center on evacuation day was housed within hours by other members of the stake. They brought us into their homes and helped us get the things that we needed. I was also amazed by the donations of every kind that we received from Saints all over the world. We’ve been blessed and supported, and we can feel their love. It’s so great to be a Latter-day Saint. I will shout that at the top of my lungs!
When the fire happened, I prayed a lot because I needed to be able to mourn and I needed to teach my children how to mourn. God had some beautiful things to teach me. I learned the importance of “clean mourning.” What this means to me is that you don’t go to dark places with your mourning or go to a place of fear. You don’t let your thoughts go to a place of anger or shame. You mourn the way God would mourn. In this way, mourning is beautiful and healing. It feels more like love.
In this situation, the biggest challenge is the unknown. There are more questions than answers for everyone. We don’t know how fast Paradise can be rebuilt, or if it can be rebuilt because the amount of destruction and loss is incredible.
God has worked with me for years to prepare me for this situation. I’ve had other “disasters” in my life that have helped me know that God is beautifully guiding my life.
There’s nothing hard I go through that doesn’t have perfect and beautiful purpose and meaning. I’ve noticed that when I’ve allowed God to teach me, I’ve always learned from my challenges. God allows us to go through these challenges so we can come to trust Him and love Him. I know that when things get hard, He’s always there.
Rachel looks over the remnants of what was once her home. “The time we spent in our house was such a wonderful time,” she says. “I’m so grateful God gave our family that time in that house.”
The Paradise First Ward building, once a place of worship, gospel study, and activities, is now a pile of rubble. However, members have felt support from Saints all over the world. “We can feel their love,” Rachel says. “It’s so great to be a Latter-day Saint. I will shout that at the top of my lungs!”
“Everyone who believes in God has seen His hand in this fire,” Rachel says. “Even though it has been challenging, it has also been miraculous. God has helped us learn exactly what we need to learn.”
Members of the Lighthall family each hold up an item recovered from the ashes of their home. These serve as a reminder of God’s blessings. Speaking of the fire, Rachel says, “Yes, it’s been challenging, and we lost a lot. But we also gained a lot.”

After a long and hard divorce, my mother decided to move our family from Germany to the United States—the home she’d left many years ago when she married my father. Even though my brothers and I were excited, it was a difficult time for us. We had to adjust to a new home and to a different country and culture.
Soon we found a house, and my brothers and I started school. We had moved to Massachusetts, where we attended a small ward. The members welcomed us warmly, and we quickly made many good friends.
Things weren’t going too badly, but my mother hadn’t been able to find a job as quickly as we had hoped. My older brother was serving a mission, and Christmas was coming closer, so money was tight. My younger brothers and I knew we wouldn’t be getting many presents that year. I often saw my mother sitting in her room, thinking of how to pay the bills and still have enough to buy presents and make this a wonderful Christmas. My brothers and I tried to convince her that we didn’t need any presents. But she knew we were just trying to make things easier and that we would be disappointed if we didn’t get anything at all.
Christmas Eve came, and we each had a couple of presents under the tree. Mother was completing the final preparations when the phone rang. She answered it. All she heard was, “An elf from the North Pole has left something for you at the front door.” Then the line was dead.
I stepped out of my room and saw my mother standing beside the phone. When I asked who had called, she slowly repeated the message she had heard. I quickly grabbed her, and we opened the front door. Outside were five big bags filled with presents. Each was carefully wrapped and had a tag.
I hurriedly woke my brothers, and with great excitement we opened the bags and placed the gifts under the tree. Long after going to bed, each of us wondered who might have called and left the bags on our doorstep. My mother didn’t go to bed for a long time. She just sat in the living room and looked at the Christmas tree with all its lights and the presents lying beneath it.
Christmas day came. We got up and opened our presents, which were all carefully selected to match our interests and needs. It was the nicest Christmas I’ve ever had.
We still don’t know who gave us the wonderful gifts, and we decided to stop trying to figure it out. But I will never forget that Christmas, not only because of the presents, but because of the lesson I learned. We are all saved because of Jesus Christ’s great love for us. He was born and died for each of us, and too often we forget the true meaning of Christmas. That year I was reminded of the love the Savior has for each of us and that he wants us to love and serve one another. I am so grateful for the Christlike example of our secret friend.

When I was 16, the stake presidency announced that our stake would visit the temple in Buenos Aires, and I was invited to go. I saved money and worked hard to be worthy to obtain a temple recommend.
After I received the recommend, temptations attacked me from every side, all trying to make me lose that worthiness. But I had a desire to attend the temple. I didn’t want to just hear the experience and testimony of others; I wanted to have my own experience and testimony.
The night to travel came. Even before getting on the bus, I had thoughts about not going, but I didn’t give in. During the 10-hour trip, I sat by a member of the Church who was very friendly to me. He was around 60 years old. He told me about his life and how happy he was to have gone through the trials he had.
I began to tell him about my life and how I felt very alone because many people had distanced themselves from me because I was following God. He told me, “God will give you a great friend, and that friend will always be there for you. Don’t forget it.” When he finished saying these words, I felt calm and peaceful because I felt that what he told me was true.
When I entered the temple, the heaviness I was carrying disappeared. It felt like there was a spiritual embrace telling me, “Welcome, my son. I have been waiting for you.”
I felt that the temple really was the house of God, not just a beautiful structure. After doing some baptisms and confirmations, I went outside. I felt the burdens return, but now I felt like I had the strength to overcome them.
I know that preparing ourselves and leaving everything in the hands of God and giving the best of ourselves to enter the temple is what is expected of us. Then God blesses us abundantly.

I never really understood the statement in 2 Nephi 32:5 “the Holy Ghost … will show unto you all things what ye should do” until I experienced it.
My friends and I often took our bikes to a place we called the dirt hills. It was our favorite place to go. It was only about a mile from where we lived, so we could ride our bikes to get there. We would literally spend hours at the dirt hills jumping and riding our bikes. It was great fun.
One day, my friend Tyler crashed his bike. He seemed to be OK, and the bike looked OK, so we kept jumping. After about five more minutes, I stopped. Tyler rode over to me and asked what was wrong. I told him that I had this really strong feeling that we should leave and go home, even though we had only been there about 15 minutes. Tyler told me that he had the same feeling, and we both realized it was time to go.
As we rode closer to home, Tyler said that his bike was acting weird. As we got to the corner of the street where we both lived, Tyler’s bike broke into pieces—the pedals fell off and the chain broke.
What would have happened had we not followed the prompting to leave and had still been jumping? Tyler may have been seriously hurt. The Holy Ghost knew it was time for us to go. I am so thankful that we listened.

The rest of Dad’s family had been converted to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints after Dad was grown and had left home. Uncle Bob was the youngest member of Dad’s family, and he had a special testimony of the Church.

One day Uncle Bob stacked an armload of wood and turned to my mother. The spirit was strong in his heart as he began to explain the things he had been learning in church and through study of the scriptures and personal prayer. He told her many things about the gospel of Jesus Christ and about Joseph Smith praying to know which church was true and discovering that not one of the churches in his day had the fullness of the gospel. Uncle Bob told her how Joseph Smith had been privileged to see God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, and to know for himself that They had bodies of flesh and bone, just as he had. Uncle Bob’s eyes never wavered from my mother’s face as he bore his strong testimony.

Mother didn’t believe a boy so young as Uncle Bob could know these things. She became angry at the words she was hearing and told Uncle Bob, “You may come back to my house anytime, but never mention these things here again.”

Uncle Bob loved my parents and wanted to come as often as he could. He agreed. “Aunt Ruth, I will never mention these things again in your home, I promise. I also promise you that someday you will ask me to baptize you.”

Now, this was many years ago, when young people did not speak their minds. They were expected to show respect to those who were older than they. It took a lot of courage for Uncle Bob to speak to my mother this way.

We spent many happy times with Uncle Bob. He stayed with us occasionally while our parents went to Wyoming to visit my mother’s family. He never broke his promise to my mother by again speaking of the great truths of the gospel or bearing his testimony, not even when both of our parents were away.

One year Dad was farming the Phillipi place in Mackay, Idaho. Uncle Bob came to stay for two weeks. My other sister, Jeannie, made spice cake every day. We whipped a half-gallon canful of pure cream for the topping. The smells seemed to curl around the corners of the room and out to the fields where Jack and Uncle Bob worked. It made your mouth water, it was such a tangy odor. But not even then, with a stove full of wood and a stomach full of sweet spice cake did Uncle Bob break his vow to my mother.

The years kept going by, one by one. Uncle Bob grew up, married, and had six sons and one daughter. He always stayed close to the Church. He knew that it was true. He held many callings over the years. Wherever he was needed, he served, becoming in later years a stake patriarch and a temple worker in the Portland Temple.

In 1971 Uncle Bob was fifty years old. My mother was sixty-four that year, and she was living in Powell, Wyoming. She telephoned Uncle Bob.

It’s curious—after all those years, she still remembered! Mother said, “Will you come, Bob. Will you come and baptize me?” On April 15, 1971, forty years after my uncle had made his promise to her, he baptized my mother a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Growing up I was shy, and I worried about everything. But every time I was worried, my brother Spencer would say, “Ellie, hunamata,” imitating the phrase “hakuna matata” (“no worries”) from the movie The Lion King. Or he would sing the song “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” He helped me see that I was important and that if I let go of my worries, I could find a lot of joy. I try to help others in the way Spencer has helped me.
Ellie S., 16, Utah, USA