Gospel Story Finder

Many years prior to my cousin's death my own life was nearly forfeit as the result of a boating accident. When I was 18 years old, I took part in a white water rafting trip on the magnificent Green River in northeastern Utah. With the river swollen by fresh snow melt and by an icy surge of water released from the base of the Flaming Gorge Dam, it promised to be a fast-paced, adrenaline-pumping adventure - just the thing that every young man dreams of!

Unfortunately, the adventure nearly cost me my life. Inadequate training and poor communication between our crew caused us to get badly hung up as we passed through some particularly rough rapids. A series of bad decisions by panicking raft-mates resulted in my suddenly being catapulted from our vessel into the river's 40-degree water. I was immediately caught in the powerful flow of a chute where water raced between two large boulders and then sucked me into an underwater "hole" or "hydraulic" that spun me around until I nearly ran out of breath.

Bruised and disoriented, I eventually surfaced many yards from the raft and was again caught by the swift current that violently dragged me through the rocks and obstacles of a long series of whitewater rapids. When I finally saw a chance to escape, I tried to swim for shore; however, my extended struggles and the extremely cold water had completely sapped my strength and caused my muscles to cramp and seize up. Even when I somehow managed to get near the safety offered by the bank of the river, I could neither stand up, nor could I grab onto anything in order to save myself. The river's strong current tugged at me relentlessly and then carried me away again into another series of rapids.

I could no longer swim and only the limited buoyancy of my flimsy life vest now kept me afloat. Many minutes passed with no relief in sight as I tried to find my way through the foaming white water. All the while, I could feel the ice-cold river sucking the life from my body as my core temperature plummeted and I went into hypothermia. "So this is how it's going to end for me?" I remember thinking to myself. Through no fault of my own, it seemed that my mortal life would soon come to a close in the frigid waters deep in that beautiful canyon. Well beyond both shivering and any sense of numbness, I remember feeling very peaceful and sleepy, too tired to fight anymore and too spent to call for help from a raft I saw further down the river.

As the chill current carried me onward, I noticed that the people in that downstream raft had seen me, helpless and motionless in the water, and they had changed course and were paddling back upstream in my direction. Several anxious minutes passed as we neared each other. Finally, when I was right next to the raft but unable to even hang onto its side, willing hands and strong arms reached into the icy river and pulled my very cold and near lifeless form into the safety and warmth of their craft.

I was given the chore of cleaning up our large playroom by myself. I looked at the mess all over the floor and felt sad because I knew I would be cleaning for a long time. My mom teaches me to pray when I feel sad, so I knelt down and asked Heavenly Father to help me clean the playroom and not feel sad. I stood up and had the idea of singing Primary songs as I cleaned. As I sang, I felt much better and was able to clean the whole playroom very quickly. I know that Heavenly Father answers prayers sometimes by giving us ideas in our minds.

When 21-year-old Gisela Silva moved with her family from Mendoza, Argentina, to the nation’s southernmost city of Ushuaia, she wondered whether she’d left behind her chances of marrying in the temple. Mendoza, after all, has a stake filled with wards of Latter-day Saints, while isolated Ushuaia—located on the island of Tierra del Fuego—has only about 600 members attending three small branches.
“My parents had married in the temple, and I wanted this blessing for myself—to marry a faithful member of the Church, someone with whom I could form an eternal family,” she recalls. “But when I arrived in Ushuaia, there were so few young adults here that I wondered whether that would happen.”
Lucas Romano had the same concerns as Gisela. During his mission to Uruguay, his family had moved to Ushuaia. When he joined them after completing his mission, he quickly noticed that young single adult men outnumbered young single adult women. He was determined, nevertheless, to obey the counsel of local leaders to date only members of the Church.
That counsel became easier to follow after Lucas met Gisela at church and she enrolled in English classes at a school where he teaches. He began walking her home after class, and they soon began dating. As they prayed individually about their growing relationship, they say that confirmation came “line upon line, precept upon precept” (2 Nephi 28:30; D&C 98:12).
In April 2005, Lucas and Gisela married civilly, as required by Argentine law, and then were sealed in the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple. Their sealing was significant for the young Church membership in Ushuaia: it was the first of 17 temple marriages in less than four years.

Joshua’s mommy was sick. She couldn’t get up to work in her garden or do anything fun.
“I want to help Mommy,” Joshua said.
“Why don’t you pray about how you can help her?” Daddy asked.
Joshua knelt down by his bed. “Heavenly Father, please help me find a way to help Mommy feel better.” He stayed on his knees until he thought of what to do.
He got a piece of paper and some crayons and drew a picture of Mommy’s flower garden.
Joshua made sure Mommy wasn’t sleeping before he went in her room. “I made this picture for you,” he said. “Now you can look at your flowers without getting up.”
“It’s beautiful,” Mommy said. “Thank you.”
Joshua kissed Mommy’s cheek. He was glad he had done something to help her feel better.

Around then, the COVID-19 pandemic forced New Zealand into a lockdown, and all Church gatherings were suspended. “No one knew how long we would be required to shelter in place,” says Adele, “but the temple groundbreaking ceremony had to go on.” She needed to come up with an alternative for a live choir.
Adele researched the possibility of a virtual choir. “I put the idea to some professionals and was told that this kind of project would cost thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours.” It was disappointing news, which normally would have discouraged Adele, but this time was different. This time, “it wasn’t just anyone we were preparing for,” she said, “It was the Lord.” She persevered and reached out to a young filmmaker and musician in her stake: Brother Anthony Butters.
“What I loved about Anthony is that it didn’t occur to him that [something] couldn’t or shouldn’t be done.” Even though Anthony himself was not sure how to make a virtual choir happen, the challenge “piqued his interest,” Adele says. “He was willing to give it a go.”
They immediately got to work.
They knew that choir practices would be impossible during the lockdown, so they recorded the instrumentals and each vocal part of Adele’s musical arrangement for singers to learn at home. Then they put out a general call seeking members for their virtual choir.
Next, they had to somehow make sure—without the luxury of rehearsals—that all the singers learned their parts correctly. They also had to figure out how to record each singer’s vocal contribution, how to edit dozens of vocal recordings together so they sounded like one choir, and how to produce a performance video that could be broadcast on the day of the temple groundbreaking ceremony.
For Adele and Anthony, it was very much a matter of being “led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which [they] should do”1. But they pored over Google and YouTube tutorials, and courageously worked through all the obstacles that arose along the way.
The experience was difficult for the choir, too. To leave enough time for editing, the singers had only three weeks to learn the music, and then each had to make both an audio and a video recording. The challenge proved too much for some. Singing on your own is quite different from singing in a choir, and after hearing themselves recorded alone, Adele says, “I had a few messages asking if they could humbly bow out because they felt their voices weren’t good enough.” Other singers were okay with the vocal recording, but not so happy to be filmed, and several more were not comfortable at all using the technology required.
Those who persevered managed to send their audio recordings to Adele, whose next job was to begin editing them together. This required a quiet space in her house, so she had to convert a walk-in closet into a makeshift recording studio. Then, her computer and software broke down. In the middle of a nationwide lockdown, Adele couldn’t just go out and purchase new equipment.
“I became overwhelmed with the feeling that I wouldn’t be able to get my part of the job done on time,” Adele says. “I asked my husband for a priesthood blessing.”
A couple of hours later, she received an unexpected phone call from a friend in Hawaii. Adele told her friend about the difficulties she was having with the virtual choir, and he said, “I can help you.”
“I went silent, hoping I heard properly,” Adele says, “because I thought for sure he was too busy to do what would be a very tedious and time-consuming job. But he actually got excited about the challenge.”
This friend—Milton Kaka—called back the next day to announce that his boss at the Polynesian Cultural Centre, which was also in lockdown, was allowing him two weeks to work on this special project with Adele. Filled with gratitude, Adele sent a thank you message to Milton’s boss, who replied that this was the Polynesian Cultural Centre’s contribution “for our M?ori cuzzies.”
Milton joined forces with Adele and Anthony, and the audio and video recordings were finally stitched together—in enough time, even, to fix one final glitch: a singer’s footage that was missing.
Once that was sorted, the virtual choir performance video was ready to release for the temple groundbreaking celebration.

When I was a child growing up and learning about life, I did not have the security of my father and mother telling me who I was, how I could find lasting happiness, and what would happen to me if I were to die. My parents did not have the gospel of Jesus Christ, so my childhood was very uncertain in many ways and often full of fear.
But in all the memories of my childhood, there is at least one of peace and joy. This is the memory of Christmas.
Christmastime was celebrated in the traditions and customs of my home country of Germany, and it was specifically for the children.
Four Sundays before Christmas Day, preparations for something holy and beautiful could be felt in our home. A little wreath with four candles on it was placed on the family table.
On the first Sunday, the first candle was lit. As a family we sat around the table, singing Christmas songs and preparing little gifts that each of us would give to each member of the family.
On the fourth Sunday, the last candle was lit, and expectations for the coming joyous events were growing extreme.
A Christmas tree did not appear in our home until December 24. On that day, we children had to stay outside, go on errands, and play by ourselves. I still remember how time seemed to not pass at all.
We children were taught that the Christmas tree and all of its glory and beauty, along with presents and food and cookies, came from the little Christ Child.
This lack of logic did not bother us children. We believed that there was a Christ-child person of a supernatural existence who cared for us in such a way that once a year He would come in person to fulfill all of our hopes and dreams.
In preparation, we cleaned the rooms where we slept. We put on our best clothes. We had our gifts ready to give. When the sun started to set on that special day, we were invited to get ready to enter the living room.
As was the custom, the doors to the living room had been locked because we children were not to go into that room. It became a place of great mystery. Once in a while we heard some rustling of papers, and once in a while the more courageous of us tried to peek in the keyhole—only to learn that the key was in it from the inside and the door was locked.
When Mother finally decided that we were clean, orderly, dressed, our hair groomed, and had our rooms in order, we were asked to listen carefully. Suddenly we heard a little bell ringing, and our hearts beat close to explosion. This was it! This was the moment when the doors were unlocked and we were allowed to go into the living room. And there it was—a Christmas tree standing from the floor to the ceiling! We became aware of its beautiful, fresh-cut smell and that it was glowing with candles. Our father, who happened to be already inside the room when we walked in, was watching it carefully so that nothing caught on fire.
The Christmas tree had many decorations that we as children would see only at Christmastime. In the center of the tree was a wax sculpture of a little Christ Child surrounded by glowing angels of gold paper and silk.
Our family gathered around the tree and sang four or five Christmas songs. Then we children were invited to find our own corner of presents, which had been covered by a blanket.
This Christmas Eve tradition developed in us powerful feelings of holiness, joy, love, gratitude, and security. These feelings, radiating from the symbols of the little wax figure of the Christ Child, which we saw only at Christmastime, had a great influence on all of us.

I grew up in Southern California. Our family lived about an hour from the Pacific Ocean. I love the beach. I loved swimming in the ocean and riding the waves. I have happy memories of running over the hot sand, dodging umbrellas tilted to shade the sun, and jumping across outstretched beach towels as we hurried from the car to the water. We could hardly wait to get to the firm wet sand that had been wiped smooth by the foaming waves. We eagerly anticipated splashing through the shallow ripples and then diving into the cold dark water. But always as we ran-we looked up at the tall white wood tower where the life guard sat as the watchman.

The lifeguard had a chair shaded by an umbrella, on the top of the stand. From that vantage point and with his experience, the lifeguard could assess the condition of the sea. It was his responsibility to warn swimmers about the safety of the ocean. He did this by hoisting a flag. If the flag at the top of the pole was blue, we knew that the water was safe for swimming, but if the flag was red, we knew that there was a dangerous under tow or rip tide and the ocean was not safe for swimmers.

My parents told us many stories of people who had been drowned in a rip tide or undertow and they impressed upon us the foolishness of ignoring the lifeguard's caution. When we got older we often went to the beach with our friends, our parents were not there. They had taught us to follow the caution of the lifeguard. But the lifeguard was not a policeman. He was not there to enforce a law--he was only there to warn us. We were free to heed the warning or ignore it.

So it is with our prophet. President Gordon B. Hinckley is the watchman on the tower. But unlike the lifeguard at the beach--our prophet does not rely on his own wisdom to give us direction and warning. He receives revelation from the Lord and he passes that information on to us. He warns us of the dangerous currents and deadly tides yet we are free to heed his counsel or foolishly ignore it. Every summer when I was young we heard of someone who lost their life because they failed to heed the lifeguard's warning. I know we jeopardize our spiritual life and threaten our testimony if we fail to follow our watchman, the living prophet.

Sarah M. Pomeroy tells of a time when she was a young girl and the Prophet came to the home of her family trying to raise money to pay the lawyer fees to defend his friend Porter Rockwell. She states:

Joseph requested my father to lend him $100.00 to pay the lawyer who defended Porter Rockwell. He explained the situation, and father freely counted out the money. 'This shall be returned in three days, if I am alive,' said the Prophet, and departed.

My aunt, father's sister, who was camped with us, was quite wrathy, and called my father very foolish and unwise.

'Don't you know Thomas,' said she, 'you will never see a cent of that money again. Here are your family without a home, and you throw your money away.'

'Don't worry Katie,' father replied, 'if he cannot pay it, he is welcome to it.'

This conversation was held before us children, and I thought seriously about it. Would he pay it, or would he not? But I had strong faith that he would.

The day came when it was to be paid. A cold, wet, rainy day. The day passed. Night came; 9 o'clock, 10 o'clock, and we all retired for the night. Shortly after there was a knock at the door. Father arose and went to it, and there in the driving rain stood the Prophet Joseph.

'Here, Brother Thomas, is the money.' A light was struck, and seated at the table, he counted out the $100.00 in gold.He said, 'Brother Thomas, I have been trying all day to raise this sum, for my honor was at stake. God bless you.'...My testimony is that Joseph Smith was truly a Prophet of God.[15]

This story happened in the Romania.
Patrik stared up at the ceiling as he lay sprawled on his bed. He was bored. He had already read his animal books, jumped on the trampoline, and rode his bike around the neighborhood. What could he do now?
Patrik got up and walked to his older brother Daniel’s room. “Will you play with me?” Patrik asked.
“Sorry, I can’t. I have to study,” Daniel said. He didn’t even look up from the book he was reading.
Patrik felt his heart sink. Daniel was always studying. Couldn’t he take a break?
Oh well. Daniel was busy, but Patrik could ask his other brother, Simion. “I’m bored. Can you play with me?” Patrik asked.
“No, not today. I’m going out with friends.” Simion put on his jacket and walked out the front door.
Patrik was so mad! His heart beat faster. His older brothers were always too busy for him. He ran to his bedroom and slammed the door.
It’s not fair! Patrik thought.
He stomped his foot and flopped onto his bed. His chest felt tight. He was so bored! But he felt too mad to think of something to do.
Then he remembered something he learned at school. His teacher taught them that taking deep breaths could help them feel calm.
“It’s hard to fix anything when you feel angry,” she had said. Maybe if he was calmer, Patrik could think of a way to solve his boredom problem.
So Patrik took a big, deep breath. Then he took another. After a few more, his chest didn’t feel so tight anymore. But he still didn’t know what to do.
He sat up and looked at the picture of Jesus Christ on his wall. What would He want Patrick to do?
Patrik got down on his knees. “Heavenly Father, please help Daniel as he studies,” he said. “Help Simion to have fun with his friends. And please help me to not be so bored.”
When he finished his prayer, Patrik had an idea. He raced down to Daniel’s room.
“Daniel, when you’re done, can we play together?”
Daniel looked up from his book at the clock on the wall. “I can take a break in about 30 minutes. Then we could go outside. Do you want to do that?”
“Yes!” Patrik smiled and ran back to his room. He found an animal book about tigers he liked looking at. After reading it for a while, he played with blocks. Soon the time had passed, and he and Daniel headed toward the woods near their house.
“Do you want to play warriors in space or explorers in the jungle?” Daniel asked.
“I don’t care. I’m just glad we can spend time together. It’s a lot better than being bored,” Patrik said.
Daniel grinned. “Well, playing with you is a lot more fun than studying for a test.”
Patrik felt happy as he and Daniel crawled through the grass. Calming down had helped him to think more clearly so he could solve his problem. And Heavenly Father had helped him to be more like Jesus Christ. It was turning out to be a good day after all.
Illustrations by Linh My Nguyen

I love reading the Friend! I’m excited every time it comes in the mail. I like reading Matt and Mandy, and the stories make me happy.
My family was discussing how we could help my little sister be kinder. There was a lot of contention, and we wanted the Spirit in our home. I read an article called “Firecracker Charlie” (March 2013). It taught me that for her to be nice to us, we needed to be super kind to her. I’m grateful I can feel the Spirit while reading the Friend.

It was dusk as my mother and I drove to my grandparents’ home. I stared out the window, lost in my own thoughts.
“Pretty sunset,” my mother commented.
“Mmmm,” I mumbled in agreement, seeing the glorious sunset for the first time.
“Do you know what Davy says?” she asked me. I turned toward her, suddenly interested. Eloise, my mother’s best friend, had died two years earlier after battling cancer. She left behind four children. The youngest was seven-year-old Davy.
“He says sunsets make him think about his mother,” she said, choking back tears. “He says it’s just like she’s smiling at him.”
I turned my attention to the evening sky. Davy’s words brought me a new perspective. The sunset was now more than a swirl of reds and yellows making intricate and beautiful patterns in the sky. It was a reminder of Eloise and others who had passed on and their love for those they had left behind.
As we drove on in silence, I watched the sunset fade into night. I was suddenly more aware of the beauty of the trees, the stars, the moon, and the clouds. I am thankful to Heavenly Father for the beautiful gifts he gives us every day. And I am thankful for a wise young boy who can see Heavenly Father’s love in something as simple as a sunset.

The Prophet’s brother Hyrum understood this and testified fearlessly of divine truth as it had been revealed to his brother Joseph and confirmed in his own heart. His testimony blessed the lives of many, including Parley P. Pratt. When Parley first encountered the Book of Mormon, Hyrum took him into his own home and spent the night teaching and testifying to him. He bore witness of the prophetic mantle that rested upon Joseph and of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. Shortly thereafter, Hyrum set aside his own needs and went with Parley to honor his request for baptism. (See Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, ed. Parley P. Pratt Jr. [1938], 35–42.)
We may never fully comprehend or be able to measure the far-reaching effects of Hyrum’s one-on-one testimony to Parley P. Pratt. In addition to Parley’s faithful posterity, his apostolic witness and missionary service drew countless souls into the kingdom of God. Interestingly, included among those who joined the Church as a direct result of his ministry in Canada were Joseph Fielding and his sisters, Mary and Mercy. After his first wife, Jerusha, died, Hyrum met and married Mary Fielding, and from their marriage came President Joseph F. Smith and countless other members and Church leaders. Now I realize that not all testimonies will return such a blessing as Hyrum’s did.

When our youngest daughter, Berkeley, was little, I started using reading glasses?the kind that zoom in and magnify everything. One day, as we sat together reading a book, I looked at her with love but also sadness because, suddenly, she seemed more grown up. I thought, “Where has the time gone? She’s so big!”
As I lifted my reading glasses to wipe away a tear, I realized, “Oh wait—she’s not bigger; it’s just these glasses! Never mind!”

One inactive member was jolted into the realization that she was not converted to the Church when her son went on a mission. Comparing herself to others whose impressive conversion stories she had heard, she asked herself, “Why are these people converted so powerfully, and I, with my pioneer heritage, remain unconverted?” She began to read the Book of Mormon even though she doubted its worth and found it boring. Then a friend challenged her. She said, “You say you believe in prayer. Well, why don’t you pray about it?”

This she did, and after she had prayed, she began to read the Book of Mormon again. It was no longer boring. The more she read, the more fascinated she became with it and thought, “Joseph Smith couldn’t have written that—these words were from God!” She finished reading it and wondered how God would tell her that it was true. She said: “A power strong, beautiful, and joyful moved completely through my body. … I knew that Jesus Christ was resurrected, … that Joseph Smith was a prophet who saw God and Jesus Christ. I knew that he miraculously translated ancient records with God’s guidance. I knew that Joseph Smith received revelations from God.” It changed her life because now she too was a convert!

Contrast these events with an incident which happened to me when I was a young man in my early twenties. While serving in the Air Force, one of the pilots in my squadron crashed on a training mission and was killed. I was assigned to accompany my fallen comrade on his final journey home to be buried in Brooklyn. I had the honor of standing by his family during the viewing and funeral services and of representing our government in presenting the flag to his grieving widow at the graveside. The funeral service was dark and dismal. No mention was made of his goodness or his accomplishments. His name was never mentioned. At the conclusion of the services, his widow turned to me and asked, “Bob, what is really going to happen to Don?” I was then able to give her the sweet doctrine of the Resurrection and the reality that, if baptized and sealed in the temple for time and all eternity, they could be together eternally. The clergyman standing next to her said, “That is the most beautiful doctrine I have ever heard.”

I am reminded of a highly successful business executive in Salt Lake City who served as a counselor in his ward bishopric while at the same time earning his master’s degree. During the hectic period preceding finals, the bishop asked him, “Lynn, I know you are facing a crisis in your schooling. Let us relieve you of your meeting schedule and some of the details of your assignments during the next two weeks.” Lynn answered, “Bishop, I would ask that rather than relieving me of responsibility, let me assume additional duties. I want to go to the Lord and ask his help by right, not by grace.” He never slackened. He graduated among the highest in his class.

Fourth, we began attending the Church at the missionaries’ invitation—and what a friendly reception! We soon learned what true sociality is, and sincere brotherhood and sisterhood which bind together people of all nations and tongues. “Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God” (Eph. 2:19). What a wonderful feeling of belonging, of being needed and appreciated, beyond anything we had previously experienced.
Soon we were singing in choirs; visiting other Church members in their homes, just as they visited us; and giving service to others in some of the many service projects the Church provides. We were able to choose from a wide range of activities—drama, dancing, sport—to supplement the spiritual progress that came rapidly by worshiping and learning with other Latter-day Saints. Everyone needs to experience the warmth of friendship and happy social activity on a continuing basis.

Whenever I attend a temple dedication, I think of Brother and Sister Gustav and Margarete Wacker of Kingston, Ontario. He was once the branch president of the Kingston Branch. He was from the old country. He spoke English with a thick accent. He never owned or drove a car. He plied the trade of a barber. He made but little money cutting hair near an army base at Kingston. How he loved the missionaries! The highlight of his day would be when he had the privilege to cut the hair of a missionary. Never would there be a charge. When they would make a feeble attempt to pay him, he would say, “Oh, no; it is a joy to cut the hair of a servant of the Lord.” Indeed, he would reach deep into his pockets and give the missionaries all of his tips for the day. If it were raining, as it often does in Kingston, President Wacker would call a taxi and send the missionaries to their apartment by cab, while he, himself, at day’s end would lock the small shop and walk home—alone in the driving rain.

I first met Gustav Wacker when I noticed that his tithing was far in excess of that expected from his potential income. My efforts to explain to him that the Lord required no more than a tenth fell on attentive but unconvinced ears. He simply responded that he loved to pay all he could to the Lord. It amounted to about a third of his income. His dear wife felt exactly as he did. Their unique manner of tithing payment continued.

Gustav and Margarete Wacker established a home that was a heaven. They were not blessed with children but mothered and fathered their many Church visitors. A sophisticated and learned Church leader from Ottawa told me, “I like to visit the Wacker home. I come away refreshed in spirit and determined to ever live close to the Lord.”

Did our Heavenly Father honor such abiding faith? The branch prospered. The membership outgrew the rented Slovakian Hall where they met and moved into a modern and lovely chapel of their own to which the branch members had contributed their share and more, that it might grace the city of Kingston. President and Sister Wacker had their prayers answered by serving a proselyting mission to their native Germany and later a temple mission to that beautiful temple in Washington, D.C. Then, in 1983, his mission in mortality concluded, Gustav Wacker peacefully passed away while being held in the loving arms of his eternal companion, dressed in his white temple suit, there in the Washington Temple.

Several years ago my daughter Jenny lost a very special ring in the grass of our backyard. We searched diligently, but it seemed hopeless. We had been playing a ball game and didn’t know exactly where she lost it. It was important to her, so we prayed for help to find this ring. We continued to search and just before giving up, I kneeled down and ran my fingers through the grass. I could not believe it; the ring slipped over one of my fingers. It seemed impossible, but there it was. How can we deny a Father who rules the universe, yet still cares about the small, important things of our lives? It’s true that not every prayer is answered immediately and sometimes the answers aren’t what we hope for, but isn’t it nice to know that the object of our faith and trust is a God who loves us and who knows our needs and concerns.

Elder Johnson’s grandfather, Joseph William ‘Billy’ Johnson, living in Ghana, was introduced to the Church of Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon in 1964. He immediately began preaching the gospel and starting congregations, independent of the Church of Jesus Christ. Within a short period of time, Johnson’s followers in Ghana reached over 500 individuals meeting in 10 separate congregations. Johnson pleaded with Church leaders in Salt Lake to send missionaries. President David O. McKay (1873–1970) told him they would not send missionaries yet, but that Johnson should wait patiently for the right time.

In 1977, four different denominations tried to persuade Johnson to have his congregations become part of their churches and offered him money to do so. Johnson declined their offers. The next year, President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) made the announcement that extended the priesthood to all worthy male members of the Church regardless of race or color. Johnson was overjoyed when he heard the news and prayed that the time for waiting was over.

President Kimball called missionaries Rendell N. Mabey and Rachel Mabey and sent them to Ghana. In December of 1978, just a few months after the announcement, Elder Mabey baptized Brother Johnson in the ocean near Cape Coast, Ghana. He was ordained as a priest and called as the first branch president in Ghana. He later became the first district president.

The Mabey’s served in Ghana and Nigeria until October 1979. Billy Johnson served the Church faithfully until his death in 2012. The branches that they helped organize together formed the nucleus of the early Church in West Africa. Currently there are 465,000 members of the Church in West Africa with 141 stakes and many districts. There are 21 missions with 3 new missions opening in July. The Accra Ghana and Abu Nigeria temples are currently operating and there are three temples under construction and five other temples announced in West Africa.