Gospel Story Finder

Jesse fidgeted from one foot to the other and chewed hard on his bottom lip. He couldn’t believe that he had really rung Mrs. Finster’s doorbell. Maybe she wouldn’t answer. Some of the kids at school said that she was a witch, but Mom said that that was silly and to not talk mean about people.
Jesse glanced back at the huge rosebush next to the sidewalk. He and his best friend, Billy, walked by that bush every afternoon on their way home from first grade. It was loaded with large pink flowers. He could barely see the top of Billy’s head ducked behind that bush. He could have just used his pocket knife to cut off a rose—Mrs. Finster would have never known. Maybe he could still do it. …
The door opened suddenly, and Jesse jumped. A gray-haired woman, her face creased with wrinkle upon wrinkle, stood silently in front of him.
“I’m Jesse Brown. I wanted a rose for my mama, and you have a bunch, and pink’s her favorite, and it would make her really happy, but it’s OK if you say no. Sorry to bother you.” Jesse turned to run. Billy was already halfway down the block.
“Wait just a minute, young man. You want one of my roses for your mother, is that it?”
Jesse turned slowly back to face her, “Yes, ma’am, if you don’t mind.” He hoped that he could remember his manners—this was no time to mess up.
“Haven’t you heard that I eat little boys who bother me?”
Jesse would have run, but his legs wouldn’t move. “Yes, ma’am, but I don’t believe it. It’s against the law, you know.”
Mrs. Finster’s smile lit up her whole face. It twinkled from her eyes and melted away most of her wrinkles. “I’ll get my clippers, and we’ll get the biggest, prettiest pink rose your mother has ever seen.”
As they walked down the driveway, Mrs. Finster said, “Your mother must be very proud of you. Other boys might have just taken a rose. But you see, if a rose isn’t clipped just right, it damages both the bush and the flower. I’m glad that you asked first.”
“Me too.” Jesse felt pretty good inside. Mama would be pleased with him—and she was going to love the rose!
They searched the bush together for the biggest, brightest rose. When they found it, Jesse thought that it smelled almost as good as fresh-baked cookies. Mrs. Finster clipped it so that it had a nice long stem and handed it to Jesse. “Be careful of the thorns,” she warned with a smile.
Jesse held his prize gently in his hands. “Thank you very much,” he said. He turned and started for home.
“Stop by anytime,” Mrs. Finster called after him. “I have plenty of roses.”
“I will,” Jesse promised as he waved back to Mrs. Finster. “I’ll stop by soon.”

Most of us have memories of perfect days—days that stand apart from the rest because something or someone made them unforgettable. One of mine happened when I was in the fifth grade. On a particularly bleak Saturday morning in January, my father suddenly announced that we were going skiing.
“All of us?” I asked, thinking of my brothers, John and Jim.
“No,” he responded, “just you and I.”
He urged me to finish my breakfast in a hurry as he gathered our equipment together. Half an hour later we were heading up Provo Canyon to the old Timp Haven ski resort. Dad and I spent the entire morning there, perfecting our snowplows and challenging one another to races. Later that day, after thoroughly exhausting ourselves on the slopes, we traveled to my Grandpa Edwards’s warehouse where we helped him and other family members bag potatoes for hauling. Although it was cold outside, dad worked so hard that huge beads of perspiration rolled freely off his forehead. Afterwards, he and I went to a nearby drive-in and had hamburgers, fries, and shakes—just the two of us.

A word of caution may be in order here, however. A friend of mine named Doug lost his father in an automobile accident when he was in junior high school. Though he knew they meant well, it was difficult for him to hear peers whose parents were still living say, “I know exactly how you feel.” The fact is they probably didn’t, and consequently their well-intentioned remarks sounded callous. A simple “I’m sorry” would have been more appropriate. Furthermore, Doug felt oppressed by those people who felt it was their duty to get him to “talk about it” every time they associated with him. Once he felt the concern and sympathy of his friends by their simple expressions of sympathy, he preferred to bring up the subject himself.

In the small room of the Murphys, who immigrated from Ireland, a bright wreath of holly with its shining leaves and red berries makes the walls look cheery. Colleen and her sister, Mary, help set the table, even though they have just finished their dinner. They place a loaf of bread and a pitcher of milk on the clean table, along with a large candle.
The girls’ grandmother smiles at them. “Since you have been blessed with the name Mary, you may light the candle, my dear,” she says. There is a deep hush as Mary solemnly lights the candle.
Colleen, who feels a bit left out for a moment, runs to the door to make sure that it is unlatched. The Christ Child, or any lonely wanderer, might see the Murphys’ lighted candle and know that He/he is welcome in their home for food and friendship.

A college student hoping to repent of some serious mistakes and straighten out his life told me only a few days ago of an influence which, for a time, controlled his life. His desire to have some expert ski equipment encouraged him to accept a job on Sundays and evenings. This prevented him from attending priesthood and other Sunday meetings. Now he was too tired to attend early morning seminary. With his new, fancy ski equipment, he made the high school team and made some new friends. To be “with it,” he started to smoke and soon moved to marijuana and from marijuana to LSD. His father and mother now appeared old-fashioned to him. He moved from his parents’ home to live with his newfound friends in an old house. The house had extra rooms, so they invited a young lady—also on drugs—to move in. His father tried to visit him, to communicate through letters. But this young man now felt completely disenchanted with church and home. After these tragic mistakes, he finally came to his senses and moved home with his parents. He told me, “The devil seemed to be in charge of my life.”

Lehi, Utah, 1851
Sarah Ann wiped the sweat from her forehead. It was hard to believe that she and Canute had already been married for three years.
So much had happened during those years. After the long, difficult journey across the plains, they had finally arrived in Salt Lake City. Soon after, Sarah Ann gave birth to a baby boy, Peter. They were now expecting another child.
Sarah Ann saw Canute walking across the field towards her. He looked serious.
“What happened?” Sarah Ann asked.
“President Brigham Young has called me to serve a mission in Norway.”
Sarah Ann realized that her dreams of spending nights sitting near the cozy fireplace with Canute and their children would have to wait.
“When will you go?” she asked.
“I should prepare to leave immediately,” Canute said. “But we have no money. And who will watch over you and our children?”
“Canute, I know the Lord will provide for us. He has a work for you to do, and you must do it,” Sarah Ann said.
Sarah Ann helped Canute get ready for his journey. She had faith that God would protect their family while her husband was away.
Three years passed. Sarah Ann took care of the land, house, and children by herself. When it came time to plant crops, the other farmers were too busy to help. So Sarah Ann picked up a hoe and a bucket of wheat seed and started planting the seeds herself.
Because she was working alone, it took her a long time to plant the wheat. Some of the other farmers said she had finished too late in the season for wheat to grow before winter and that she had planted the seeds too deep in the soil. Within a few weeks, wheat started springing up in other fields. But Sarah Ann’s field still looked bare. She began to worry.
“If the wheat doesn’t grow, my children will have nothing to eat,” Sarah Ann thought. She decided to pray for help.
One day, Peter was playing in the field when he noticed that the grass seemed to be jumping. There were thousands of grasshoppers covering the ground!
The farmers tried everything they could think of to make the pesky insects go away, but nothing worked. When the grasshoppers finally left days later, the farmers’ crops were gone. The insects had eaten all of their wheat!
The farmers didn’t know how they would feed their families during the long, cold winter.
“Continue to trust God. He will provide for us,” Sarah Ann told them confidently.
Sarah Ann kept on praying and waiting patiently for an answer to her prayers. Then, the week after the grasshoppers left, Sarah Ann’s wheat—which she had planted later and deeper than the other farmers’ crops—began to appear.
That summer, Sarah Ann harvested 60 bushels of wheat, potatoes, and corn. She was not only able to feed her family but also many of her neighbors. Because of her faith in the Lord, everyone had enough to eat.

I recall just a few years ago seeing a drama enacted at the Salt Lake Airport. On this particular day, I got off an airplane and walked into the terminal. It was immediately obvious that a missionary was coming home because the airport was full of conspicuous-looking missionary friends and missionary relatives.
I tried to pick out the immediate family members. There was a father who did not look particularly comfortable in an awkward-fitting and slightly out-of-fashion suit. He seemed to be a man of the soil, with a suntan and large, work-scarred hands. His white shirt was a little frayed and was probably never worn except on Sunday.
There was a mother who was quite thin, looking as if she had worked very hard in her life. She had in her hand a handkerchief—and I think it must have been a linen handkerchief once but now it looked like tissue paper. It was nearly shredded from the anticipation only the mother of a returning missionary could know.
Two or three younger brothers and sisters were running around, largely oblivious to the scene that was unfolding.
I walked past them all and started for the front of the terminal. Then I thought to myself, “This is one of the special human dramas in our lives. Wait and enjoy it.” So I stopped. I moved to the back of the crowd to watch. The passengers were starting to come off the plane.
I found myself wondering as to who would be first to breakaway from the welcoming group. A look at the mother’s handkerchief convinced me that she would probably be the one.
As I sat there, I saw the returning missionary start to come down the stairs from the airplane. I knew he was the one by the squeals of excitement from the crowd. He looked like Captain Moroni, clean and handsome and straight and tall. Undoubtedly he had known the sacrifice this mission had meant to his father and mother, and it had made him exactly the missionary he appeared to be. He had his hair trimmed for the trip home, his suit was worn but clean, his slightly tattered raincoat was still protecting him from the chill his mother had so often warned him about.
He came to the bottom of the steps and started out toward the airport building and then, sure enough, somebody couldn’t wait any longer. It wasn’t the mother, and it wasn’t any of the children, or even the girlfriend standing nearby. It was father. That big, slightly awkward, quiet and bronzed giant of a man pushed his way past an airline attendant and ran out and swept his son into his arms.
The missionary was probably 6?2? or so, but this big father grabbed him, lifted him off the ground, and held him for a long, long time. He just held him and said nothing. The boy dropped his briefcase, put both arms around his dad, and they just held each other very tightly. It seemed like all eternity stood still, and for a precious moment the Salt Lake City Airport was the center of the entire universe. It was as if all the world had gone silent out of respect for such a sacred moment.
And then I thought of God the Eternal Father watching his son go out to serve, to sacrifice when he didn’t have to do it, paying his own expenses, so to speak, costing everything he had saved all his life to give. At that precious moment, it was not too difficult to imagine that Father speaking with some emotion to those who could hear, “This is my Beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” And it was also possible to imagine that triumphant returning son, saying, “It is finished. Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.”
Even in my limited imagination, I can see that reunion in the heavens. And I pray for one like it for you and for me. I pray for reconciliation and for forgiveness, for mercy, and for the Christian growth and Christian character we must develop if we are to enjoy such a moment fully.
I stand all amazed that even for a man like me, full of egotism and transgression and intolerance and impatience, there is a chance. But, if I’ve heard the “good news” correctly, there really is a chance—for me and for you and for everyone who is willing to keep hoping and to keep trying and to allow others the same privilege.
I marvel that he would descend from his throne divine
To rescue a soul so rebellious and proud as mine. …
I think of his hands pierced and bleeding to pay the debt!
Such mercy, such love, and devotion can I forget?
No, no, I will praise and adore at the mercy seat,
Until at the glorified throne I kneel at his feet. …
Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!
(Hymns, no. 80.)
In the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

When I was eight, I was getting ready for school one day and I couldn’t find my shoes. My mom was out of town, so my dad and I looked and looked, but we couldn’t find them. My dad suggested that we say a prayer. A few minutes after our prayer, we found my shoes behind the kitchen door. My dad and I said another prayer to thank Heavenly Father for helping us find the shoes so I could get to school on time.Cameron Smith, age 11,Tempe, Arizona

In the year following that September, life had been kind of hectic for me. I told my wife, Helen, who was going to the annual meeting with me, “Let’s take the train to Chicago so that we can relax and get away from the hustle and bustle.” But no sooner had we checked into our hotel room, than the telephone rang. When I answered it, the hotel operator said, “Mr. Fyans, you have been getting telephone calls from Salt Lake City. They’ve been trying to reach you for some time, and they asked if they could make an appointment to talk with you in two hours. It was just about noon when they last called, so at two o’clock can you be available?”
“Yes, I can be available. Who’s calling, operator?”
“A Mr. Moyle.”
I said, “Thank you very much” and hung up. Helen and I sat down and said, “Mr. Moyle? Why would any Mr. Moyle want to talk with us? We only know of one Mr. Moyle—Henry D. Moyle of the First Presidency—but he doesn’t know us, and he’d have no interest in us.”
So we sat there, and at two o’clock on the dot the telephone rang and the caller was President Moyle. He said, “I’m glad that I found you at last. We’d like you to go to Uruguay and preside over the mission there. Will you go?”
I said, “Why, certainly.”
He said, “I understand that your wife is with you. May I speak with her?” When she got on the phone, he said, “Is it all right if your husband goes to Uruguay on a mission?”
“If I go with him.”
He chuckled. “That’s exactly the situation. He’d be the mission president.” Talking to me again, he said, “We want you to move as fast as you can. In fact, why don’t you make some contacts there in Chicago about getting your passports started?”
“All right. Whatever you suggest.” I hung up the receiver and thought, Oh, boy, what’ll I tell the corporation? Not only have I come here at their expense, but I’m supposed to make a presentation at the meeting tomorrow! Well, I called them and said, “You know, I really have a serious problem. I’m sorry, but I’ll not be able to stay for the meeting. I have to return to Salt Lake City immediately. And you’ll have to relieve me from this responsibility, because I’ll not be in the country for several years.”
“Well, where are you going to be?”
“I’ve been asked to go to South America and represent the Church there.”
They asked, “How did you get that information?”
“I just received a telephone call.”
“We don’t understand you. We made a special trip out to Salt Lake City to visit you, spent several days with you there, then gave you ten days to think about whether you’d come to Chicago or not. After all that, you decided against coming here. But you just got a telephone call and decided that fast to go a third of the way around the world! We don’t understand you.” Then, “Yes, we do. And when you return, get in touch with us, if you will, please.”
In life we find challenges of various kinds. Some of them are obvious, and some of them are not quite so obvious. In this case the challenge was not quite so obvious. But because I had met the challenge and had not had an alcoholic drink that night at the restaurant, I was thrice-blessed for sticking by my principles. First, I was offered a key position in an international organization. Second, even after I had turned them down, they let me know that their doors would always be open to me. Third, I was called by the Lord to spend my life in the best possible way—working full-time for Him.

I think of the Saints in the little village of Bermejillo, Mexico, where I went with some health missionaries in 1975. As we walked along a dusty road with the branch president and his wife, we were taught how to pick out the homes of Church members. Their fences and homes were painted, and vegetable and flower gardens accented their neat and tidy yards. As we passed several homes, the branch president’s wife told us, “These people are not active right now, so you can’t tell they’re Latter-day Saints. But soon they’ll be back with us, and on your next visit you can pick them out, too.” Eventually the members in this branch built their own chapel.

Can I give you one other piece of advice? Be willing to laugh at yourself. When Elder Matthew Cowley (1897–1953) was first called into the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, President J. Reuben Clark (1871–1961) invited him into his office and counseled with him about his new assignment. President Clark was one of the great leaders and thinkers of the Church. He left a post as the United States ambassador to México to accept a position in the First Presidency of the Church. He was a man long accustomed to bearing the weight of heavy responsibility.
As the meeting between Elder Cowley and President Clark drew to a close, President Clark said, “Now, my boy, kid [President Clark called all the members of the Quorum of the Twelve ‘kid’]—Now, kid, don’t forget rule six.” Elder Cowley asked, “What’s rule six?” President Clark said, “Don’t take yourself too darn seriously.” Elder Cowley asked, “What are the other five?” President Clark said, “There aren’t any” (Matthew Cowley Speaks [1954], 132–33).

I will never forget the family home evening lesson we had during a power outage. Without power we could not read anything, and I thought that family home evening was going to be a disaster.
“How will we have family home evening without being able to read a message from the Liahona, or how will we be able to sing from the hymnbooks without light?” I thought to myself.
Fortunately my sister came to the rescue. She had the great idea for us to sing the hymns we knew by heart and then share what we had learned the Sunday before. We all shared a principle and learned from one another. In my opinion, learning together is the purpose of family home evening. I am certain that the Lord was very pleased that we kept the commandment to have family home evening, even without lights.

I am extremely grateful for these glorious truths—what we call the Father’s plan of salvation, His plan of mercy, or His great plan of happiness. Learning these important truths has helped me know my true identity and the great blessings of exaltation and eternal life God has prepared for us. The prophet Nephi taught us the way: “Wherefore, … feast upon the words of Christ; for behold, the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do.” He added, “If ye will enter in by the way, and receive the Holy Ghost, it will show unto you all things what ye should do.” Today I would like to share how the words of Christ and the Holy Ghost helped me find these important peace-giving truths in my teenage years.

Just like Nephi stated in the opening verse of the book of 1 Nephi, I was also “born of goodly parents.” I grew up in Nagano, Japan, in a home where honesty, diligence, and humility were strongly encouraged and conformity to the old customs was strictly followed. My father was a very religious man. I watched him praying in front of the Shinto and Buddhist altars every morning and every night. Even though I had no idea whom he was praying to and what he was praying for, I believed some sort of unseen power or God would be “mighty to save” or help us if we prayed sincerely.

Like other teenagers, I experienced many hardships. I struggled, thinking that life was unfair and had lots of ups and downs. I felt lost, not having a sense of direction in my life. Life seemed so fleeting because it would end when I died. Life without knowing the plan of salvation was confusing.

Not long after I started to learn English in junior high school, all the students in our school received a copy of the New Testament. Though we had barely begun our study of English, our teacher told us we should study English by reading it. I opened it and reviewed its contents. The words in the New Testament were extremely difficult for me. The words in Japanese were equally difficult. However, I was drawn to a list of statements and questions of the soul that had been included just before the biblical text in this Gideon Bible—questions about feeling lonely, lacking confidence, being confused, facing life’s trials, and so on. Each item on the list was followed by a reference to verses and pages in the New Testament. I was especially drawn to the statement “When you are weary.” The reference led me to open Matthew 11:28–30, in which Jesus said to His disciples:
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
“Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
“For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
This was the first time I remember reading the words of Jesus Christ. Though I did not understand all the words He said, His words comforted me, lifted my soul, and gave me hope. The more I read His words, the more I felt like I should try the virtue of His words. I had never felt like I felt that day. I felt I was loved. I felt that Jesus Christ was someone I knew.
As I continued studying, I felt as though He were speaking directly to me when He said, “Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.”
His words filled my heart, even though I could not describe my feelings well at that time. Although Jesus Christ lived many centuries ago in a land unfamiliar to me, I thought I could trust His words with all my heart. I hoped someday in the future I might learn more about Jesus Christ.
That someday came only a few years later. I met very dedicated, young, full-time missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. And I soon met a small group of kind and joyful Latter-day Saints striving to follow Jesus Christ. Despite it taking me a while to fully trust them, I came to see in the restored gospel what I yearned for when I studied the New Testament—the words of Jesus Christ and the hope and peace that come from them.

The light shining in your faces comes from the Lord. This same light led the way for 15-year-old Mary Elizabeth Rollins and her 13-year-old sister, Caroline, on a dark day in Independence, Missouri.
It was 1833, and an angry mob roared through the streets of Independence, wreaking havoc. In their path was the home of Brother William W. Phelps, where the printing press was kept. He had been printing revelations received by the Prophet Joseph Smith. The mob demolished the printing press and threw the wreckage into the street. However, they stacked up the printed pages in the yard so they could burn them later.
Mary Elizabeth and Caroline had been hiding by the fence, frightened spectators to all this destruction. Even though Mary Elizabeth was terrified, her eye was fixed on those precious pages. She and her sister ran out from their hiding place, gathered up the scriptures, and bolted. Some members of the mob saw them and ordered them to stop. But the brave girls ran into a large cornfield, where they dropped breathlessly to the ground. They carefully laid the pages of revelations between the tall rows of corn and then covered the pages by lying on them. The mobsters looked and looked for the girls, coming quite close at times, but never did find them. Eventually they gave up their search.
I believe the light of the Lord directed Mary Elizabeth and Caroline as to what to do and where to go for safety. That light shines for you, and it will guide you as it did the Rollins girls. It will keep you safe even when danger lurks.

President Smith, in the same Tabernacle talk, also honored a little-known non-LDS woman who likewise helped the Church. Evidently when General Lucas, out of fear of General Doniphan, sent Joseph Smith to jail rather than execute him, he delivered Joseph into the charge of a General Moses Wilson. General Wilson, on the way to Liberty Jail, housed Joseph at his own home, in chains, where Mrs. Wilson developed deep sympathy for the unfairly treated Mormon leader. When the Wilsons moved to Texas, the general one day planned to raise a mob to punish Mormon elders preaching in the area. When Mrs. Wilson heard this, although an aged lady, she mounted her horse and rode 30 miles to warn the elders. Years later one of her sons told President George A. Smith that his mother “deeply deprecated the difficulties with the Mormons, and did all she could to prevent them.”13

I remember the first winter after I received my driver’s license. I was driving down Parley’s Canyon in a blinding snowstorm and couldn’t see the road. All of a sudden I found myself off the side of the road into a snowdrift and had to abandon the car for the evening. The next morning, who was by my side with patience and understanding as a friend would be, helping me shovel the car out of the snowdrift? My mother.

Several years ago I went on a bicycle trip in France with my sister, sister-in-law, and her daughter. Each morning we were given three pages of detailed instructions that, if followed exactly, would guide us to our destination of the day. While we were cycling through vineyards, the directives might instruct us to “go 165 feet (50 m) north, then turn left and go 330 feet (100 m).” More often, the instructions gave signs and street names.
One morning we cycled down an attractive road but soon realized that our instructions no longer fit the territory. Rapidly becoming lost, we decided to return to where we last knew we were on the right track to see if we could sort out where to go.
Sure enough, when we got there, we found a small road sign, noted in our instructions, that we had failed to see. Soon we were on our way again, matching our progress with the instructions, which again were making perfect sense.
The experience served as a metaphor that answered a puzzling question I’d had: Why, when someone has had a testimony of the gospel, would he or she ever fall away? It became clear to me that when we take a wrong turn (sin) or fail to follow God’s commandments, the instructions (the word of God) no longer make sense. The map, as it were, no longer fits the territory we’re in. If we haven’t strayed too far, we may recognize that the fault is ours and that we need to return (repent) or recommit to live as God has commanded to where we knew we were following the route correctly.

For the past couple of years, the lives of Latter-day Saint youth in Malaysia have been filled with a different kind of firsts—gospel firsts. The Ipoh Malaysia District was organized in 2003. And since then youth here have planned and participated in their first-ever youth conference and attended their district’s first seminary graduation. There are only three branches in the Ipoh Malaysia District, but the youth are determined to share their testimonies with others so they can help the Church grow. They hope they will one day belong to the first ward in western Malaysia.
“You don’t always get to be first in everything,” says Malvinder Singh, 16, who joined the Church in 1998. “But we are pioneers here.”
At a youth conference last year, the air was filled with cries of excitement as the teens experienced yet another first—baseball. Only two or three of the youth who attended the conference had ever played the game before, so they were given the assignment to explain the rules to the others.
“It was a brand-new experience to learn how to play baseball, since soccer and badminton are the sports we play here,” says Malvinder.
In addition to baseball, youth conference was filled with other fun games and activities. Although the youth enjoyed the activities, they say what they will remember most about the experience was the opportunity to meet people with similar beliefs and to draw courage from knowing they are not alone.
Ariana Dabier, a Mia Maid, says, “It was great to see so many Malaysian youth who are just like me—faced with similar trials and temptations—and yet they stand firm in their faith. I now know that no matter where I go on this earth, the gospel will be the same.”
Another gospel first the youth recently experienced was the opportunity to attend their district’s first seminary graduation ceremony. Three Malaysian youth—Kelvin Anand Kumar, Aun Luck Tan Ernest, and Hamish Steven Parsons—earned seminary diplomas.
Kelvin, who was baptized in 1999, attended seminary during the first four years he was a member of the Church. He says the knowledge he gained there increased his testimony. “I am glad I graduated from seminary,” he says. “Seminary helped me to make correct decisions and plan my education. Because of the things I learned in seminary, I know someday I will marry in the temple.”
The youth say the examples of Kelvin and other graduates encourage them to attend seminary faithfully. Attending seminary is difficult for Malaysian teens because studies and homework take up most of their free time. They go to school six days a week, and most students also study with a private teacher after school ends for the day.
Jaslinder Kaur, a Mia Maid in the Ipoh Second Branch, says most of her friends don’t understand her decision to attend seminary. “When I told my friend I was going to church early in the morning to learn more about our Heavenly Father and His Son, she told me I was crazy and my grades would drop,” she says. “But seminary helps me do well in school because I have sacrificed my time for our Father in Heaven. When I go to school, my mind is fully awake, and I can concentrate better on my studies.”
Malvinder Singh also says attending seminary has helped him succeed in school. Malaysian students must complete rigid testing twice during their school careers. Test results determine which colleges students can attend and which professions they can pursue. Although this year was an important exam year for Malvinder, he still chose to go to seminary. He says he knows Heavenly Father blessed him for this decision by helping him do well on his tests. “Faith is the most important thing I have learned in attending seminary,” he says.
Missionaries have been a permanent presence in western Malaysia only since 1980, so there aren’t many members there yet. In fact, only 1 in 12,015 people in Malaysia—or .01 percent of the population—belongs to the Church. Like the early pioneers, the young men and young women in Malaysia know that many of their peers have not had an opportunity to hear the gospel. These youth know they can help the Church grow when they share their testimonies with their friends.
The youth also know that before they will be prepared to share the gospel with others, they must work hard to develop testimonies of their own. Aun Luck Tan Ernest’s parents taught him the gospel when he was young, but he always knew he needed to find out for himself if the gospel was true.
“I wanted to learn more about Jesus Christ when I was baptized,” Ernest, 17, says. “I knew He was the Son of God when I first bore my testimony in sacrament meeting. It was the happiest moment in my life, and I am still trying my best to strengthen my faith and grow in my testimony of Christ.”
Ernest and the other youth in the Ipoh district know that their testimonies will grow as they are shared. There are approximately 10 young men and 10 young women in the Ipoh Second Branch, and when possible they share their testimonies in testimony meeting. Young Women president Liew Siew Ling Chris says, “Hearing their testimonies is the greatest blessing I have.”
Youth in western Malaysia have been blessed with many gospel firsts. Through experiences like youth conference and seminary, they have learned they are not alone in their beliefs. And now they are determined to develop lasting testimonies of their own and help spread the good tidings of the gospel throughout Malaysia.

By Oudom Piseth, Cambodia
In order to achieve my goals, I always tell myself that working hard is very important, but another way to excel is by working smart. After my mission in England, I returned to Cambodia and looked at the job market. I looked at things like the length of training to get each job and the cost of training.
I found that the training program to be a clothing merchandiser is short but challenging, and not many people were doing it. I saw it was a good opportunity and decided to take it. I have now finished the program and am working as a merchandiser for a clothing company.
Finding the right career can be very hard, but I have the Savior to help me and lift me up.

I walked into sacrament meeting late that Sunday, and as usual sat on the back row. I didn’t know it at the time, but when I walked out of that meeting I would be a different person. It wasn’t just an ordinary meeting—it was the missionary farewell for my brother who’s a year older than I am. He was the fourth one in my family to go on a mission, so it was nothing new to me, but I was closer to Chuck than the others.
Though I’d been raised in the Church, I never really had a desire to go on a mission like my brothers had. My plans after high school graduation were set, and I didn’t see how I could take two years out of my social life, my roofing business, or from my motorcycles to go on a mission.
As the speakers in the meeting started talking, I thought about how much I would miss Chuck. We’d grown up together. In fact, we’d shared the same bedroom until just a year before when he had moved into mom’s sewing room because I wouldn’t keep the room clean. We’d worked together almost every day of our lives since I was six years old, and now we owned a roofing business together. But all of a sudden he’d be gone. In two days he’d be in the MTC learning Spanish, and then on to Spain for two years to teach the gospel.
I left my daydreaming as I heard Chuck’s voice come over the loudspeaker. He was always a joker and started this talk with a joke that had everybody laughing. Then he talked a little about Spain and what his mission would be like. Then for a few seconds everything was quiet and Chuck’s face clouded with emotion. And he said, “I want to talk to my little brother Dean for a few minutes.
“Throughout my life I’ve done everything I could to make my brother proud of me. I’ve always kept the Word of Wisdom and been the best person I could. And as I accept this call to serve the Lord on a mission, I hope that he’ll be proud of me.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He had been trying to make me proud of him? As I sat there with my girl friend, for the first time since I was a kid tears filled my eyes and I started to cry. And the Holy Ghost bore witness to me of the importance of my brother’s mission.
As Chuck talked, I thought back on our lives. He’d never taken a drink or touched a cigarette. He’d lived a life of purity and honesty unequaled by anyone else I knew. I’d never known him to tell a lie. He’d always lived a Christlike life and been a good example of a member of the true church of Jesus Christ. Then I thought back on my own life and how I’d fallen short of his example. He’d never put me down for my shortcomings, though. Sitting in that sacrament meeting, I made a promise to myself that I would someday make my brother proud of me.
It’s been a year and a half since that meeting, and I have not forgotten the promise I made. I have turned my life around and am now serving a mission for my Heavenly Father—the best decision I have ever made in my life. As I kneel every night in prayer, I thank the Lord for the great examples I have had in my life, like my brother, who have had the courage to live the teachings of the Church and act like the sons and daughters of God that they are. I pray now that I can be that same example to others.