Gospel Story Finder

President Uchtdorf learned the value of working hard at a young age. The Uchtdorfs owned a laundry, and Dieter rode a heavy-duty bicycle, pulling a heavy laundry cart before and after school. Years later, when he joined the air force, he learned that he had had a lung disease when he was younger. Because he had worked hard through his childhood, his body had healed itself and built up a resistance to the disease.

If there is one thing that Elder Erich Willi Kopischke has gained a testimony of, it is that the Lord knows what is best for individuals.
He recalls being a little disappointed when called to serve a full-time mission in his native Germany. “I wanted to learn a different language,” he says. But he soon came to love teaching his own people. And when he was assigned to the mission office for nine months as a secretary, he had to learn English.
Elder Kopischke came to realize that his mission had truly been the Lord’s plan for him, because it had prepared him.
“The Lord knows your mission in life—that is my greatest testimony,” he says. “He knows what is in store for you.”

Two or three years ago, while I was living in New Zealand, I received a magazine published for ministers. One of the main articles stated that today we live in a world where there is a “poverty of heroes.” The article stated that many people in high places were insincere, wicked, and even corrupt, and that the world was filled with people who could not be trusted or respected in any way. The article explained that young people living in this age are being cheated because of this unfortunate condition.
As I read, I kept thinking, “This is not true. The world is filled with heroes; it always has been and always will be!” Latter-day Saint youth are in a position to see heroes everywhere.
I remember as a young man how I looked up to our bishop. He didn’t speak English very well, but he was a marvelous leader and he loved us. He was an example of everything that was good and fine. He was my hero in my youth and still is.
I remember as a young missionary in New Zealand seeing men who stood way above the other people in that country because they had testimonies of the gospel and lived the way they should. One of them was a rugby player for the All Blacks (the equivalent of being an all-American football player in the U.S.). He had played rugby all over the world and told me that he always knelt down and prayed in the locker room before going out to play in any game. When I met him, his rugby career was over, but he was strong in the faith and a good, hard worker who could shear sheep with the best of the Maori men. He has always been one of my heroes.
I remember a marvelous sister who served for 25 years as the president of the New Zealand Mission Relief Society. In her home Elder Matthew Cowley, as a young missionary, translated the Doctrine and Covenants and the Pearl of Great Price into the Maori language. As mission president he loved to go back to that home. To me she was one of the great women in the history of the Church. Her leadership lifted a whole nation of Latter-day Saints. To me she was a heroine in every way.
A few years ago when I was in Alaska, I met two elders. One had been converted about three years before in England and was now an excellent missionary.
The other elder was Jewish and had been converted only a year or two before. He said that one day, while he was at the beach in Santa Monica with some friends, he lay down to rest on a blanket. Another young fellow in the group—one whom he did not know well—came and sat by him. This stranger asked him if he would listen to an interesting story. The missionary then told me that for the first time in his life he heard about the Prophet Joseph Smith, the restoration of the gospel, and the Book of Mormon. He knew it was the truth and in a matter of three or four weeks he was ready to join the Church.
These two young missionaries in Alaska were heroes to me in a way. But the real hero was the boy on the beach in Santa Monica who had the courage to bear his testimony and tell that great story that changed the life of a fine young man.
I met a man in Florida who took 15 years to join the Church. But once he was in, he resolved to spend the rest of his life as a missionary. More than anything else, he liked to ask people questions about the gospel. He sold used cars, and one day an all-American football player asked him if he would sell him a small pickup truck. My friend said, “I’ll do that, but I want to ask you something far more important. What do you know about Moroni?”
“Moroni who?” the football player asked.
“I guess he doesn’t have a last name,” my friend said. He then persisted and taught the football player the gospel. Within a few weeks’ time the football player had joined the Church and has remained faithful ever since. My friend has brought close to one hundred people into the Church! To me he is a great hero and stands out as one of the best missionaries I have ever known.
I remember one time meeting a fine young married man who was not very large in stature. He was a professional jockey who had worked for some Latter-day Saint men who owned a large stable of fine racehorses. They taught him how to be a first-class jockey and chose him to ride a truly great horse that they owned. They also taught Johnny the gospel, and he joined the Church.
A year later, his bishop called him to go on a mission. Johnny said, “I can’t go. I’ve got to ride this special horse in the Kentucky Derby. I’m the only jockey who has ridden him.”
However, after some thought, Johnny went to his bosses and asked for their permission to go on a mission. They told him that they had a huge investment in him and couldn’t spare him to go on a mission because of the Derby and the other big races that were coming up. They were sure their horse would win the triple crown. However, neither of his Latter-day Saint bosses felt very good about their decision, so the next day they told him if he wanted to go on a mission, they wouldn’t stand in his way.
He went on his mission, and on the day of the Kentucky Derby, he went tracting in Canada while the horse he would have ridden won. It went on to win the triple crown. The other jockey earned over $200,000 while this fine young man taught the people of Canada the gospel. To me he is an outstanding hero.
Yes, there are heroes all about you. It is possible that your Laurel teacher or your priests quorum adviser or your Scoutmaster are heroes just as fine as any living on this earth. What about your seminary teacher, your bishop, your mother, or your father?
I think heroes are everywhere in our Church. They stand out in a world of sin and unrighteousness. May God bless us to recognize them and follow their fine examples. Even more than that, may he help us to become heroes to others as we serve him.

“Maddie! Come upstairs! Brother Eldredge is here to teach you how to find a name!”
I groaned. Ever since our ward made a goal for all of the youth to find a name to take to the temple, I was trying to stay under the radar. I trudged upstairs. Brother Eldredge helped me log in and showed me how FamilySearch worked. As he showed me how simple it was to search and find names, a thought came to me that maybe doing FamilySearch wasn’t all that bad. Brother Eldredge finished helping me and then left.
I kept going through the steps, and within 15 minutes I had found and reserved a family name. At that moment, a feeling of comfort washed over me, and I felt as though I had been given a big hug. But I didn’t stop there. I wanted to find more, so I did. Within the next hour, I had found 20 names. With every name I found, I felt the presence of someone new. That night, as I said my prayers, I knew that I was doing a great work.
The next day was a holiday from school, and I was bored. A little thought came into my mind that I should start using FamilySearch. With that thought in mind, I said a prayer and then searched for names for a good three hours. By the end of the day, I had 130 names. Over the course of the next few weeks, I took an hour here and there to find names. It became a habit. After about two months, I had a little over 400 names. It wasn’t something I wanted to make a big deal about. I did it because I felt like I was doing something good and something for my ancestors. Doing family history became a blessing. I think everyone should do it.

Some 30 years ago, while working in the corporate world, some business associates and I were passing through O’Hare Airport in Chicago, Illinois. One of these men had just sold his company for tens of millions of dollars—in other words, he was not poor.
As we were passing a newspaper vending machine, this individual put a quarter in the machine, opened the door to the stack of papers inside the machine, and began dispensing unpaid-for newspapers to each of us. When he handed me a newspaper, I put a quarter in the machine and, trying not to offend but to make a point, jokingly said, “Jim, for 25 cents I can maintain my integrity. A dollar, questionable, but 25 cents—no, not for 25 cents.” You see, I remembered well the experience of three towels and a broken-down 1941 Hudson.
A few minutes later we passed the same newspaper vending machine. I noticed that Jim had broken away from our group and was stuffing quarters in the vending machine. I tell you this incident not to portray myself as an unusual example of honesty, but only to emphasize the lessons of three towels and a 25-cent newspaper.

The fourth insight coalesced as we moved an old, heavy refrigerator from the basement of an elderly sister Clayton home taught. We had tried to find another ward member to help us but could not. Desperate, we asked Jim, a nonmember neighbor who happily agreed to help. It was a hot, horribly humid summer day, and soon our clothes were soaked with perspiration. When we reached the first turn in the staircase and had balanced the fridge on the landing, Jim said, “So tell me about the Mormon Church.”
Mopping his brow, Clayton responded, “Frankly, this is it.” He then explained how home teaching works and noted how much this sister needed us. We also told him that because graduate students and their families were moving in and out of our area all the time, our family was often helping someone load or unload a rental truck.
Jim was incredulous. “At our church we just listen to the sermon and go home. I have no idea who might need my help. They never ask, and there’s no way for me to offer. Will you ask for my help again when you need an extra pair of hands? I like this kind of thing.” Although Clayton had tried unsuccessfully to engage Jim in discussions about religion in the past, Jim was uninterested. But he was interested in opportunities to help others.
As a result, Jim subsequently accepted our invitation to take the missionary discussions.
Despite seeing much truth and goodness in our Church, Jim decided after the third discussion not to continue his investigation. Even though we know that many who discontinue investigating will later listen and accept the gospel, we were disappointed. But this taught us our fifth valuable lesson about member missionary work—we realized we had succeeded as missionaries. Jim had become a great friend, and we had given him the opportunity to understand the gospel of Jesus Christ more deeply. Whether or not he ever enters the waters of baptism, he has taken a step along the path of his own eternal progression and has made some important correct choices. Most of us fear failure. Once we realized that we succeed as member missionaries when we invite people to learn and accept the truth, much of the fear that kept us from sharing the gospel vanished.

Every call to serve is a human drama in the life of the recipient. I am certain that such has been the case with each of the Brethren who earlier today were sustained as new General Authorities. Let me share with you some marvelous lessons from the life of one of these Brethren, Jay E. Jensen, as recently reported in the Church News (“Spiritual Foundation Set Early in Life,” 8 Aug. 1992, pp. 6, 14).
Elder Jensen speaks of turning points in his life. His spiritual awakening began when he was a small boy growing up in Mapleton, Utah. His parents held family night long before it became a Church program. He recalled that his father read to him lessons from the Book of Mormon. His mother’s deep love for books also had a favorable impact on her son. However, it was when he read for himself Joseph Smith’s account of the First Vision that the witness of its truth became a reality.
Upon graduation from high school, young Jay and his sweetheart, Lona, decided to get married and not wait for a call to serve a mission. “It nearly broke my father’s heart,” Elder Jensen related. “Mother told me that Dad just wept.”
Two weeks later, and before wedding plans were finalized, Jay and Lona attended a sacrament meeting where a returned missionary reported his mission. The Spirit touched their hearts. They concluded to postpone marriage. Jay arose, went to the bishop’s office, and reported for missionary service. The rest is history. Jay served in the Spanish-American Mission.
Lona moved to California for employment and served a stake mission. Upon the completion of Jay’s mission, they were married in the Manti Temple. Elder Jensen’s father lived long enough to see his son serve an honorable mission and marry in the temple. Sister Jensen has often said that sending her husband-to-be on a mission was the hardest thing she ever did, but that it was the most rewarding. “I would never do it differently. We could never have been as happy otherwise.”
Today, Jay and Lona serve in Guatemala. He is a member of the Central America Area Presidency.

“I’ll give you ten bucks to taste a beer tonight,” one boy coaxes.
“Yeah, I’ll add 20 to that,” another prods.
“Come on, you’ve got to at least try it once,” a third boy encourages. “You don’t even know what you’re missing.”
The offers are beginning to grow into a nice sum of money. Everyone is watching.
“I know you know I’m Mormon,” responds Sara Traina, 14, of the Jonesboro Georgia Stake. “I won’t do that.” But the boys persist in a half-serious, half-teasing manner.
What would you do?
Last summer at a Young Women’s conference, LDS girls from Georgia had the opportunity to spend five days discussing situations like this and learning how to handle them. The girls came up with a list of things they have found make their lives on earth happier and their quests for heaven a little easier.
Make up your mind what to do in difficult situations before they arrive. For Andrea Bennett, 17, of the Douglas Georgia Stake, turning down alcohol and R-rated movies at her junior/senior beach weekend wasn’t hard at all. “A lot of people were drinking, but when they asked me if I wanted some I just said no. I didn’t even have to think about it. I had made up my mind long before that happened I wouldn’t do those things. So when the offer came there wasn’t even a doubt in my mind what my answer would be. It would just happen. And it did.”
Hang Mormonads in your locker. Ginny Pettyjohn, 16, of the Sugar Hill Georgia Stake, says, “They remind me to always be good; plus they are a good influence on others when they see them.”
Last year Ginny’s locker was next to the locker of a guy known to drink a lot. He also liked to keep up on the latest Mormonads in Ginny’s locker. “One day a Mormonad about keeping the body and soul clean really seemed to intrigue him,” she says. “He kept looking at it but didn’t say anything.” The very next day he told Ginny a couple of his friends had come over the night before and asked him to go out drinking with them. But he thought about the Mormonad and decided not to go.
Make good friends. Cathy Geigle, 15, also of the Sugar Hill Stake, has moved a lot and has had to make new friends many times—member and nonmember alike. “It is always so much fun to go out with Mormons,” she says. But right now those occasions usually occur when there is a church activity, since there are not a lot of LDS students in her school. But that hasn’t kept Cathy from making good friends. “If you have a good, clean spirit and are living righteously, you will be attracted to other good spirits, even if they aren’t Mormon,” she says.
On Cathy’s first day of high school, she met Kelly. “We started talking, and I could just tell from the way she talked and acted we were a lot alike. Our spirits are alike. She’s been a good friend ever since.”
Pick a role model for yourself. “Joseph Smith is my hero,” says Anh Nguyen, 14, of the Atlanta Georgia Stake. “He was looking for Christ. He worried about finding the true church.”
And Anh can relate. It wasn’t too long ago her family came from Vietnam to the United States, and the missionaries found them. Then she, too, had to find out for herself what the truth was. She says she prayed just like Joseph did, and she received an answer.
“Joseph makes me want to stand up for what I believe like he did,” Anh says. “His example gives me strength.”
Read your scriptures. “It’s one of the best ways to come closer to Heavenly Father and to have your problems answered,” says Doralee Solomon, 17, of the Douglas Georgia Stake. “You can always go to your scriptures for help and get answers.” At one time Doralee had a friend who was smoking, and she didn’t know what to do about it. She didn’t know whether she should talk to the person, the bishop, or the parents. But after reading, praying, and listening to her Young Women lessons, she knew she needed to confront her friend. “I know reading my scriptures helped put me in tune for an answer,” Doralee says.
Pray. Before the Young Women’s conference, Allison Buytendorp, 17, of the Roswell Georgia Stake, didn’t want to go. But her mother suggested she pray about it before she made up her mind. Allison prayed and felt she should go. Now she knows why. “I loved it. I felt spiritually renewed afterwards, and it made me want to go to seminary. Now I want to learn more about the scriptures. I know I was where I was supposed to be because I prayed. It just feels good to know Heavenly Father is always there for you to help you out.”
Remember Sara from the beginning of this story? She was standing up for what she believes in. She never took the guys up on their offers. She politely refused and didn’t go to the party where the alcohol was being served. All her response did was gain her more of their respect. “I stand up for what I know is right the best I can,” Sara says, “and because I’m consistent I’m respected.”
Tucked away deep in the Bible Belt, where most people are strongly religious, these girls communed in a peaceful 4-H camp halfway surrounded by a lake, an hour and a half outside of Atlanta away from the worries of the world. They were able to listen to talks and programs of their choice on missionary work, dating, sharing talents, trusting each other, and preparing for the Second Coming, to name a few. They stayed in cabins and enjoyed conversations easiest held with girls of their own religion—conversations about subjects like returning to live with their Heavenly Father someday. Now they know there are many LDS girls out there going through the same situations they are, and they know what others are doing to make their quest for heaven a little easier. They can take those ideas home with them and use them in their own lives.

Letters written from the Missionary Training Center and from the mission field reflect the joy that quickly followed:
—“At the airport I was able to meet one of the missionaries who taught me, Elder (Hoyt) Skabelund, and his wife and baby and parents. I am slowly learning Cantonese. The people in the MTC are wonderful.”
—“I’ve received two letters from my mother. Everything is going well at home. They are being blessed greatly and they know it! My family and relatives are now happy that I am serving a mission. Surely God is a God of miracles!”
—“I have done my first street display, talking to everyone who goes by. I have taught the six discussions in Cantonese.”
—“Now I have been transferred to Macau, a Portuguese colony neighbouring the coast of China. I am pretty lucky because not many missionaries get to serve here. We are teaching an investigator, and he will be baptized. I know that God called me here to do a special work.”
—“Every inconvenience was worth overcoming to read the Book of Mormon. Every insult was worth swallowing to keep the Sabbath holy. Every moment was worth waiting for to kneel in private prayer, every pain worth enduring to attend church. Every blow was worth taking, every torment worth suffering, every tear worth shedding to come on this mission.”
Today in Macau, Elder Liao looks out the window of his missionary apartment and sees a promised land.
“When I decided to go on a mission,” he says, “I knew there would be strong currents against me. I didn’t really know the dangers lurking in the water, what might try to sting me or to swallow me up. I was only thinking about making it. Now here I am, and I know that it’s worth it.”
And he’s eager to build a bridge to help others, including his family, to cross over to the other side.

I was in the Navy at the end of World War II when I was a very young man. My training took place near San Diego, California. Everyone in the Navy had to know how to swim, or they wouldn’t let him out of boot camp (training camp). I had learned to swim as a boy and could do it quite well.

One day an officer said, “All of you who can swim get to go to San Diego for the day. Those who can’t must have a full day of swimming lessons. So those of you who can swim, line up over here, and we’ll put you on a bus and take you into town.” I lined up with the swimmers—there were about 30 or 40 of us. But instead of having my group get on a bus, the officer marched us into the gym, where the swimming pool was.

I thought, You’re mixed up, fellow. We’re the ones who can swim. But, of course, I said nothing. We prepared for swimming and were ordered to jump into the deep end of the pool.

Most of us obeyed, but about 10 men in our group didn’t know how to swim. They had thought that they could go to San Diego without measuring up. The officer didn’t let them just stand there—he pushed them into the water. He let them go under the water, come up gasping for air, and then go down again. When they came up for the second time, a big bamboo pole was held out to them, and they were pulled to safety. Then the officer said sternly, “Don’t you ever lie to me again!” I tell you, I was glad I hadn’t tried that! The experience taught me the value of being honest and true to yourself at all times.

A group of returned missionaries from the Philippines Baguio Mission (1985–1988) gathered and toured the temple.
Willie Almaras from Bacolod said that the group prepared for a year for the reunion. He was excited to meet the people he taught and baptized. Many of them have their own families already and their children have gone on missions.
He recalled the times he walked past the acacia trees along McArthur Hi-way in Urdaneta City, when he was serving a full-time mission 30 years ago. “I wondered what those trees were for,” he said.
Willie was amazed to see the same trees which now surround the magnificent Urdaneta Temple.

The next few weeks were busy ones. School started again, and then my eighth birthday came along almost before I realized it. After my baptism and confirmation, a few things began to change. I started getting up a little earlier each morning to read the Book of Mormon before I headed off to school. That was tough because I hate getting up in the morning, but I was determined to make it all the way through that book.
I also started fasting each month on fast Sunday. There aren’t many things I like to do more than eat, so I slipped up sometimes, but even so, I started noticing a difference in how I felt about testimony meeting.
I began paying more attention to what each speaker was saying, and that made the meeting a lot more interesting. I found out that Sister Johnson had joined the Church when she was twenty-six years old. I thought she’d been a member all her life! And I loved it when old Brother Badger bore his testimony. He had exciting stories to tell about his life and about miracles he had witnessed.
I finished the Book of Mormon early the next summer. There were great stories and teachings in it, and I was happy that I’d reached my goal. But Moroni had written in the last chapter that if you read the Book of Mormon and want to know if it’s true, you should ponder it in your heart and pray to Heavenly Father about it. He promised that if you do that with faith in Jesus Christ and with a sincere heart, the Holy Ghost will help you know that it’s true. I decided to try it out for myself.
The rest of that week I prayed every morning and night. Sometimes I even said a quick prayer in my head when I was at school, but I never saw a vision or even heard a voice that told me the Book of Mormon was true. I felt like giving up, but I really wanted to know, so I just kept on praying.
The next fast Sunday, I fasted to know if the Book of Mormon was true. I spent a lot of time on my knees, and I reread some of my favorite parts. It was amazing how seldom I thought about food.
Testimony meeting was going along great that day. I was even happy for Molly Prentiss when she went up and bore her testimony. Then Brother Badger went to the front to speak. His quiet voice trembled as he spoke of his great love for the scriptures and how he knew of the truth of the gospel.
As he spoke, a strange feeling started in a little spot in my chest. It got warmer and bigger until my whole body was filled with glowing, tingly warmth. When he finished, that warmth seemed to pick me up and carry me right to the pulpit. The lump in my throat loosened into a few words that came right from my soul: “I know that the Book of Mormon is true. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

During my first year in high school, my parents decided that we would go caroling at a nursing home on Christmas. I was reluctant when I heard the plan. Mom reminded us that it gets lonely at Christmastime for many of the people in the nursing home, but I was used to Christmas being a blissful, relaxing day of lounging in pajamas, playing with new gifts, eating treats, and watching movies. The nursing home was unfamiliar, and the 30-minute drive through the New Hampshire woods to get there seemed so long.

Christmas Day came and brought a morning of opening new gifts and gadgets and filling the living room floor with wrapping paper remnants and empty boxes. That afternoon, Mom and Dad cheerfully herded my three siblings and me into the family minivan. As we entered the nursing home, we were greeted by the smell of disinfectant and cafeteria food. Another family from our ward met us in the lobby and handed out Christmas songbooks.

As we walked down the white tiled hallway, we started singing “Silent Night.” I felt awkward—a few of the residents were out in the hallway, some half asleep in wheelchairs, most in their pajamas. I wasn’t really sure they were even listening. Song after song, we slowly made our way down the hallways, and residents’ faces lit up when they recognized familiar songs like “Jingle Bells” and “Deck the Halls.” One man tapped his foot, one woman started waving her hands in the air as if she were conducting. A few people even tried to sing along. It started to feel less awkward—maybe our caroling did mean something to these people.

As we passed the rooms, lots of the residents came to their doorways to hear us. We would pause and finish the song for each one, wishing them a merry Christmas as we left. One woman, though, couldn’t come to her doorway. We sang “The First Noel” outside her door, and she waved her hand for us to come in. As our big group squeezed into her small room where she sat in an armchair near the window, I noticed the nametag on her door said Norma. When I asked her how her day had been, she told us that we were her only visitors the whole day. Not even her children or grandchildren had called or visited. We sang another song for her, our voices filling the room with Christmas cheer. She reached out and held my hand, and I was so glad we were there. When we finished, everyone turned to go, and I bent down and gave her a hug. “Merry Christmas,” I whispered.

It was getting dark when we left the nursing home, but I didn’t even care that we had spent most of the afternoon there. It felt good to see the smiles on peoples’ faces and bring them a little comfort and love on Christmas. Walking down those halls, I had the distinct impression that if Jesus Christ had been on earth that day He would have been doing the same thing. Instead of thinking of what I had missed out on at home, I was grateful to have been able to serve and feel closer to the Savior.

I couldn’t think of a more fitting way to celebrate His birth and remember His perfect life than serving others by caroling in the nursing home. It was the best gift I gave that year and is now a special tradition I look forward to every year.

I was visiting a patriarch a while ago. He told about a blessing he gave to a woman who came to him from one of the missions. Among other things he told her that her progenitors had made a great contribution to the bringing forth of the gospel in these latter days. And after the blessing was given she said, “I’m afraid you made a mistake this time. I am a convert to the Church; I am the first one in my family to join the Church.”
“Well,” the patriarch said, “I don’t know anything about it. All I know is that I felt prompted to say that to you.” And when he told me the story, she had just been in the genealogical library and had found that some of her relatives—her grandparents or her great-grandparents—had made great sacrifices in the early days of the Church. A part of the family had drifted up into the East and had been converted. She found that she was descended from some of the early pioneers. The patriarch did not know of it himself. He had spoken by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost.

The Domnic family of the Hyderabad Second Branch knows something about doors, too. The three daughters—Kavitha, 15; Hema, 16; and Smitha, 18—say education is a door to the future: “Whatever principle of intelligence we attain unto in this life, it will rise with us in the resurrection” (D&C 130:18). They talk about seminary as a part of their eternal education. It is a door that, through the scriptures, opens upon a path to the Savior. They also talk about how the Holy Ghost can open a door to the truth of all things (see Moroni 10:5).
But one of the most memorable doors for the Domnic daughters is the gospel door that opened eight years ago for their mother, Anu, and then, with patience and prayer, for their father, Julian Francis.
“When the missionaries taught me the gospel, I knew it was true,” Sister Domnic says. “I knew the Church was a place where I could bring my daughters to find safety from worldly things. I also had a strong feeling that my husband would join and that our whole family would be blessed.” But Julian Francis would have to stop some bad habits—smoking, drinking, and cheating people out of money as a rickshaw-taxi driver.
“I didn’t want my wife and daughters to learn about the gospel,” he says. “I told them that if they wanted to join a Christian church, just go to the one on our corner. Why did they want to go to the Mormon church all the way across town?” He also feared that if his wife and daughters changed religions, they would create ill will among the extended family.
But as the gospel door opened wide for his wife and daughters, he found his own questions becoming more and more sincere, and his own behavior improving. His wife and his two oldest daughters were baptized and confirmed, and he started taking missionary lessons seriously. He sold his rickshaw taxi and found other work. He quit drinking alcohol. But he struggled to stop smoking.
Then one day he found out the elders were fasting on his behalf. “I started crying. I couldn’t believe they thought it was worthwhile to fast for me. For me!” The missionaries challenged him to quit. “They gave me some gum and told me that when I felt like smoking, to chew gum instead. They said if I could be free for an hour, then I could go for another hour, then four hours, then eight. They kept coming each day, giving me gum and encouraging me. I kept wondering why they would take so much trouble just for me, but I finally quit smoking and decided I should be baptized. From there on I have lived a righteous life, and my family and I have received more and more blessings.”
“I am so grateful for the missionaries who came to our door, and to my parents for walking through the door that led us all to Christ,” says Hema. “Now our family can walk through chapel doors, through temple doors, and someday through whatever entrance takes us back to our Heavenly Father.” Hema, like the other youth in Hyderabad, knows that such blessings start by opening the door where the Savior is knocking.

After his baptism, Ken wanted his parents to know about the gospel. “I doubt that my parents would ever be interested in becoming Latter-day Saints,” he said. After all, his father held a prominent position in his own church.

But when Ken was home on leave, he asked his parents if they would be willing to have the missionaries tell them about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Being the fine, open-minded people they were, they agreed. Later, Ken had the privilege of baptizing and confirming them. They later became temple workers.

When my wife and I arrived in Minnesota as new mission leaders, we had close to 270 missionaries and were focused on the young elders and sisters as well as our many responsibilities.
Early in our mission, one particular transfer presented a challenge for which I was little prepared. We had close to 30 missionaries departing and close to 30 arriving. In addition to interviewing all of the departing and arriving missionaries, I assigned missionaries to new companions in new areas.
As I began the day of interviews, I received a call from one of our elders serving in a small Wisconsin branch in the easternmost part of the mission. With a faltering voice, he shared with me that his entire family had left the Church. “President, what do I do?” he asked.
My heart broke for this devastated young man. I knew my wife and I should get in the car to go spend time with this elder, but if I did, I would miss the final opportunity I had to interview some of the departing missionaries.
As I was trying to determine how to accomplish these two important responsibilities, in walked a brand-new senior missionary couple, Elder and Sister Beck. I was surprised to see them because we were not expecting them until the next day. I immediately recognized their arrival as an answer to my desperate prayers. They had a special spirit about them, and to make matters better, they were going to be serving in Wisconsin.
I am not certain I even gave them the opportunity to sit down. I informed them that, unfortunately, I did not have time to meet with them. I had an urgent assignment for them. I explained the circumstances of this elder and asked them to travel to Wisconsin and spend some time counseling with and comforting the elder.
They immediately got back into their car and made their way to Wisconsin. Later that day, I received a call from Elder and Sister Beck. They asked me if they could take the elder and his companion to the temple in St. Paul. I thought it was a great idea, but I informed them that on that particular day the temple did not have any daytime sessions. They asked if it would be all right for them to go anyway and spend some time on the temple grounds. I encouraged them to go.
To this day, I do not know how the temple president found out about this elder’s challenges, but when the Becks and the elders arrived at the temple, President Smith was there to greet them. He opened the temple and provided this elder with counsel and guidance in the holiest place on earth.
A couple of days later, when Sister Forbes and I traveled to Wisconsin, the elder’s spirits were high, and he was actively engaged in missionary work. I recognized that it was no small blessing that weeks before Elder and Sister Beck arrived in the mission, the Lord had impressed me to assign them to this area in Wisconsin proximate to the elder’s area. Over the next couple of months, they continued to support and help him deal with this challenge. Despite the situation at home, he continued to work hard, took steps to strengthen his testimony, and later became one of our great mission leaders.
We were always interested and concerned about the missionaries’ plans after their missions. We were even more concerned about this particular missionary because of the challenge he faced at home. I was comforted to learn that he had been admitted to Brigham Young University–Idaho. At a BYU–Idaho orientation meeting, he met his future wife. Later they were sealed in the temple.

Eli looked at the pile of homework his friend had dropped off after school. Eli had missed another week of school because of an ear infection.
That evening Eli’s parents came into his room. His mom sat on the side of Eli’s bed and took his hand. “Eli, the doctor thinks you need an operation,” she said.
“What kind of operation?”
“He wants to put tubes in your ears to keep you from getting more infections,” Mom said. “It won’t hurt, and you’ll be out of the hospital in a day.” She squeezed his hand.
Eli trusted his parents. But the idea of having an operation scared him. He thought about the story he had heard in Primary about Joseph Smith. When Joseph was seven years old, the bone in his leg became infected. The infection got worse until the doctor decided that he must remove part of the bone or Joseph might lose his leg or even die.
In Joseph Smith’s day, doctors gave people liquor to help numb the pain during an operation, but Joseph refused the liquor the doctor suggested he drink. And he refused to be tied to the bed. He said that if his father held him, he wouldn’t move. Joseph’s father held him tightly in his arms throughout the painful surgery. The operation was successful, and Joseph recovered.
Eli thought about Joseph’s courage and faith in his father. “Can I have a blessing, Dad?” he asked. Eli knew a priesthood blessing could help him. At the beginning of the school year, Eli’s father had given him a blessing.
“That’s a great idea,” his father said.
Eli’s mother folded her arms and bowed her head. Eli felt his father’s hands on his head. His father’s voice grew in confidence as he blessed Eli that he would not be scared and that he would recover completely.
When the blessing was over, Eli was no longer afraid. “I can have the operation now,” he said.
Three days later he went to the hospital and returned home the next day. The ear infections soon stopped, and Eli quickly made up the schoolwork he had missed.
Eli was grateful that he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and that he could be blessed through the priesthood.

My wife, Maria Isabel, and I served in Central America, being stationed in Guatemala City. There I had the opportunity to meet Julia, a faithful member of the Church. I had the impression to ask her about her family. Her mother died of cancer in 2011. Her father had been a faithful leader in his stake, serving as a bishop and as a counselor to his stake president for several years. He was a true undershepherd of the Lord. Julia told me of his tireless efforts to visit, to minister, and to serve. He indeed rejoiced in feeding and tending the precious sheep of the Lord. He remarried and stayed active in the Church.

A few years later, he went through a divorce, and now he had to attend church alone once again. He felt out of place and also felt that some people were critical of him because of his divorce. He stopped attending church as a negative spirit filled his heart.

Julia spoke highly of this wonderful undershepherd, who was a hardworking, loving, and compassionate man. I vividly remember that a feeling of urgency came to me as she was describing him. I just wanted to do something for that man, a man who had done so much for so many throughout those years.

She gave me his cell phone number, and I began calling him, hoping to have the chance to meet with him personally. After several weeks and many, many phone calls without success, one day he finally answered the phone.

I told him that I had met Julia, his daughter, and that I was captivated by the way he had served, ministered, and loved the precious sheep of the Lord for so many years. He was not expecting a comment like that. I told him that I really wanted to visit with him eye to eye, face to face. He asked me my purpose in proposing such a meeting. I replied, “I really want to meet the father of such a wonderful lady.” Then for a few seconds there was silence over the phone—a few seconds that seemed to me like an eternity. He simply said, “When and where?”

The day I met him, I invited him to share with me some of his experiences visiting, ministering, and serving the precious sheep of the Lord. As he was recounting some touching stories, I noticed that the tone of his voice changed and the same spirit he had felt so many times as an undershepherd came back. Now his eyes were filled with tears. I knew this was the right moment for me, but I found that I did not know what to say. I prayed in my mind, “Father, help me.”

Suddenly, I heard myself saying, “Brother Florian, as a servant of the Lord, I apologize for our not being there for you. Please, forgive us. Give us another chance to show you that we do love you. That we need you. That you are important to us.”

The following Sunday he was back. He had a long conversation with his bishop and remained active. A few months later he passed away—but he had come back. He had come back. I testify that with our Savior’s help, we can love His precious sheep and minister to them as He would. And so, there in Guatemala City the Lord Jesus Christ brought back one more precious sheep into His fold. And He taught me a lesson on ministering that I cannot forget. In the name of the Good Shepherd, the Beautiful Shepherd, the Magnificent Shepherd, even the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

I know a very faithful young deacon who transformed himself into a modern Captain Moroni. Inasmuch as he has sought to follow the counsel of his parents and Church leaders, his faith and determination have been tested every day, even at his young age. He told me one day he was surprised by a very difficult and uncomfortable situation—his friends were accessing pornographic images on their cell phones. In that exact moment, this young man had to decide what was most important—his popularity or his righteousness. In the few seconds that followed, he was filled with courage and told his friends that what they were doing was not right. Moreover, he told them that they should stop what they were doing or they would become slaves to it. Most of his classmates ridiculed his counsel, saying that it was a part of life and that there was nothing wrong with it. However, there was one among them who listened to the counsel of that young man and decided to stop what he was doing.

This deacon’s example had a positive influence on at least one of his classmates. Undoubtedly, he and his friend faced mockery and persecution because of that decision. On the other hand, they had followed the admonition of Alma to his people when he said, “Come ye out from the wicked, and be ye separate, and touch not their unclean things.”6