Gospel Story Finder

On a recent assignment in the Philippines, I met Karen, who shared an experience she had as a Laurel while studying for a bachelor’s degree in hotel and restaurant management. A teacher required that every student learn to make and taste the variety of drinks that would be served in their restaurants. Some of the drinks contained alcohol, and Karen knew it was against the Lord’s commandments for her to taste them. In the face of serious consequences, Karen found courage to arise and shine forth, and she did not partake of the drinks.

Karen explained: “My teacher approached me and asked me why I was not drinking. He said, ‘Miss Karen, how will you know the flavor and pass this important subject if you do not at least taste the drinks?’ I told him that I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and as members, we do not drink things that are harmful to us. Whatever he expected of me, even if it meant receiving a failing grade, I would understand, but I would not fail to live my personal standards.”

Weeks passed, and nothing more was said about that day. At the end of the semester, Karen knew her final grade would reflect her refusal to taste the drinks. She hesitated to look at her grade, but when she did, she discovered that she had received the highest grade in the class.

She said: “I learned through this experience that God … will surely bless us when we follow Him. I also know that even if I had received a failing grade, I would not regret what I had done. I know that I will never fail in the Lord’s sight when I choose to do what I know to be the right thing.”15

Thirty-five years later, my son encouraged me to visit Mexico with him. We hoped to find some of the people I had taught. We attended a sacrament meeting in the little town where I began my mission, but I didn’t recognize a single person. After the meeting, we spoke with one of the members and asked if he knew anyone on my list of people I had taught so many years before. We went through the list without any success, until we got to the last name: Leonor Lopez de Enriquez.
“Oh, yes,” the man said. “This family is in another ward, but they attend church in this building. Their sacrament meeting is next.”
We didn’t have to wait long before Leonor came walking into the building. Although she was now in her mid-70s, I recognized her immediately, and she recognized me. We shared a long, tearful hug.
“We’ve prayed for 35 years that you would return so we could thank you for bringing the gospel to our family,” she said.
As other family members entered the building, we shared hugs and tears. Soon we discovered that the bishop of this ward was one of Leonor’s sons, the chorister was a granddaughter, the pianist was a grandson, and so were several young men in the Aaronic Priesthood. One of her daughters was married to a counselor in the stake presidency. Another daughter was married to the bishop of a nearby ward. Most of Leonor’s children had gone on missions, and now grandchildren have also served missions.
We learned that Leonor was a much better missionary than I was. Today her children thankfully recall her tireless efforts to teach them the gospel. She taught them that small decisions, over time, result in a full, righteous, and happy life, and they have taught those things to others. All told, more than 500 people have come into the Church because of this one wonderful family.
And it can all be traced back to a conversation over lunch. I often think that if Dr. Pingree had been more focused on his career or other worldly pursuits, he might never have asked why I wasn’t serving a mission. But his focus was on others and on furthering the work of the Lord. He planted a seed that has grown, brought forth fruit, and continues to multiply exponentially (see Mark 4:20). My mission taught me the eternal consequences of a single decision to do the Lord’s will.

Debbie dashed out of the school as soon as the bell rang. She was dimly aware of her name being called, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t face Jill and Kelly after her latest fiasco. Debbie hurried across the school yard without looking back, her blond curls bouncing crazily as she ran. And she didn’t stop running until she had reached home and slammed the front door behind her.
“Hi, Debbie,” her mother called from the kitchen. “Could you please come and help me, honey? I’m running late, and I have a million things to do.”
Debbie hesitated. She didn’t want to refuse, but first she had to calm down and get her thoughts in order. “I’ll just change and be right down,” she called back, racing up the stairs.
She flung herself facedown on her bed, burying her burning cheeks in the cool bedspread. Her ears still rang with the teacher’s gently teasing voice: “Honestly, Debbie, does my lesson go in one ear and straight out the other?”
“Math!” Debbie groaned. “I just can’t understand it.” Prickly tears stung her eyes again. She had felt humiliated, and she was certain that the entire class was laughing at her, and not at the teacher’s remark. I may as well give up. I’m never going to pass math, she though, and cried harder into her pillow.
Debbie heard her older brother, Mark, arrive home. It’s easy for him, she thought. He breezes through math. I’m the only dummy in this house.
Splashing, her face with cool water, Debbie examined her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “I don’t look stupid. In fact, I look pretty normal,” she murmured miserably, brushing her hair. “You wouldn’t know by looking at me that I can’t do anything right.”
In the kitchen no one noticed that there was anything wrong with Debbie as she peeled some vegetables and mixed a meat loaf while her mother sorted laundry into loads.
“How are you, short stuff?” Mark inquired good-naturedly, using his habitual nickname for her.
“In three years time, I’ll be taller than you, stringbean,” she replied, her gloom beginning to lift.
After the blessing on the food, Dad asked Mark and Debbie his usual question: “How was school today?”
Debbie was expecting the question, but she hadn’t planned on bursting into tears. She blurted out the whole story, adding, “I’m sorry, Dad. I really have done my best, but it just isn’t good enough!” Excusing herself from the table, she fled to her room again. Her head was whirling and buzzing in complete confusion.
They’ll be having a family council now to decide how they can help me, Debbie though when she’d calmed down a bit. I guess most families have one member who’s having problems. She heard movement below, but it was a half-hour’s anxious wait before she heard anyone climb the stairs. Her father softly rapped at her door and said, “Please come downstairs, Debbie. We need to talk with you.”
After Dad left, Debbie reluctantly descended the stairs, unsure of the reception she would get. She got what she’d never expected to get—a round of applause!
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Dad announced as she timidly walked into the dining room, “our guest of honor for this family home evening is Miss Debbie Hayden.”
Around the table sat her brother, her parents, their neighbor Mrs. Craske, and Debbie’s friends Jill and Kelly. At the head of the table was a seat reserved for Debbie, and her father guided her to it. “Our first speaker,” he continued, “will be our new neighbor, Mrs. Craske.”
In a daze, Debbie heard herself praised and thanked for her help while the Craske family was moving in—for looking after their little boys, for helping to unpack cartons, for running errands. “And,” Mrs. Craske concluded, “for being a truly thoughtful, unselfish young lady.”
Next Jill and Kelly stood up. They had come to tell Debbie how much they appreciated her for helping them with their English projects. They praised her for her pitching ability on their class softball team. And finally they thanked her for her loyal friendship. Debbie’s cheeks flushed scarlet with embarrassment, but she felt a rush of pleasure at the same time.
“My turn!” Mark declared. “I want to tell everybody what a good sport Debbie is. I tease her all the time, and yet she’s always ready to help me out by mending my ripped football shirts or by cleaning up after me before Mom sees the mess I’ve made. She’s a pretty good sister, and I’m glad she’s around.”
“Coming from Mark, praise like that is equal to getting a Nobel Prize,” Father teased.
Mother stood up. “Honey, I don’t think I could manage without your help,” she stated, squeezing Debbie’s hand. “Just tonight you cooked the supper—and you make better meat loaf than I do. I can always rely on you, and lots of times I don’t even have to ask because you’re already there to lend me a hand. I don’t always tell you how grateful I am for your help. From now on, I promise that will change.”
Debbie knew what her mother meant about taking people for granted. She couldn’t remember the last time she had shown her own appreciation to her family and friends. She resolved to tell them all tonight—and regularly in the future.
Her father took Debbie’s arm and gently urged her to stand beside him. “We didn’t realize you were feeling so upset about math,” he began. “But you’re bright and do well in your other subjects. You’ve let your worries about math get out of perspective, Debbie, and you’ve overlooked all the things that you do well. Each one of us here wants you to know that you’re a thoughtful, loyal person. We’re all proud of you. All anyone expects of you is for you to try to do your very best.”
Dad’s right, Debbie thought later as she lay in her bed, waiting for sleep to come. It’s a question of perspective. I can do some things well. And I’ll still work hard on my math—without letting it get me down.

One night the “mules and horses took a notion they would go and accordingly they went.” The boys started in pursuit “but the night was so dark that we had to take the advantage of the lightning to tell us which way we were going.” When Zeb saw something move in the distance he tried to run to it. “At last I got lost in a swamp but managed, after much trouble, to get back to camp without finding the animals.” Next morning, on foot, the boys found the animals more than nine miles from the camp.

Recently an attractive young woman came to my office with her parents. She came from a good family, but she had lost her way and now was in serious difficulty. She was unmarried and expecting a child and wondered what she should do. My heart went out to her. I think she loved the Lord. She had forgotten that those who love the Lord keep in touch with him and keep his commandments. She had control of her emotions until I asked her if she said her prayers. Then she began to cry.
How important it is that we communicate daily, and more often if necessary, with our Heavenly Father. He always loves us whether we are good or bad. It takes initiative on our part, however, if he is to bless us.

Not long ago, a dear friend had an impression to visit a woman in her ward. She brushed off the prompting because she hardly knew her—it just didn’t make sense. But since the thought kept coming to her, she decided to act on the prompting. Because she was already feeling uncomfortable about the impending visit, she determined that taking something to the sister would help ease her anxiety. Certainly she couldn’t go empty-handed! So she bought a container of ice cream, and off she went to begin what she worried might be an awkward visit.
She knocked on the woman’s door, and shortly the sister answered. My friend handed her the ice cream in a brown paper bag, and the conversation began. It didn’t take long for my friend to realize why the visit was needed. As they sat together on the front porch, the woman unveiled a host of challenges she was facing. After an hour of talking in the warm summer weather, my friend noticed the ice cream melting through the brown paper bag.
She exclaimed, “I am so sorry that your ice cream melted!”
The woman sweetly responded, “It’s OK! I’m lactose intolerant!”

When President Spencer W. Kimball was a boy, he heard a speaker in church ask the congregation, “How many of you have read the Bible through?” A feeling of guilt spread over young Spencer as he realized that he had never read the Bible through. As he left the chapel, he was determined to read the entire Bible and promised himself, “I will. I will. I will.” Arriving home, he found his Bible and read until very late that evening. And within a year he had read the entire Bible.

Before I married my wife, Stacey, people told me how to find the right person to marry. They said I should make a list of the qualities I was looking for in a spouse.
My list went something like this: I want to marry a young woman who is spiritual, is a returned missionary, has a strong testimony, and wants to be a mother and raise our children in the gospel. It would also be nice if she is tall, athletic, and has blonde hair.
As I was dating, I had a hard time finding a young woman with all of those characteristics. Young women are much more than a list of characteristics. They have different personalities, different likes and dislikes. Some are easier to talk to than others. Some are tall, some short. Some like sports, some don’t.
I began to revise and prioritize my list.
The most important change came from a sentence in my patriarchal blessing that says Heavenly Father was preparing a young woman for me to marry in the temple. That sentence, along with prayer and the Spirit, was my guide.
My wife is short, has dark brown hair, didn’t go on a mission, and doesn’t play sports. But as we dated, I found that she is kind, easy to talk to, fun to be with, has a strong testimony, and wants to raise children in the gospel.
So I decided that hair color and athletic ability weren’t as important to me as seeking to know Heavenly Father’s will in deciding whom to marry. When I was with Stacey, I felt at peace. I felt she was the one Heavenly Father had prepared for me to marry. Stacey and I were sealed in the temple.
I’m glad I put learning and obeying Heavenly Father’s will at the top of my list.

Many faithful Latter-day Saints have demonstrated that they are “settled” in keeping their covenants with God and are forever changed. Let me tell you about three such individuals—Brother Banza Mucioko, Sister Banza Régine, and Brother Mbuyi Nkitabungi.
In 1977 the Banzas lived in Kinshasa in the country of Zaire, now known as the Democratic Republic of the Congo. They were highly respected in their Protestant church community. Because of their talents, their church arranged for their young family to go to Switzerland to study and provided a university scholarship.
While in Geneva, on the bus route to school, Brother Banza frequently saw a small meetinghouse with the name “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” He wondered, “Does Jesus Christ have Saints now, in the latter days?” He eventually decided to go and see.
Brother and Sister Banza were greeted warmly at the branch. They asked some of the persistent questions they had about the nature of God, such as, “If God is a spirit, like the wind, how could we be created in His likeness? How could He sit on a throne?” They had never received a satisfactory answer until the missionaries explained restored doctrine in a brief lesson. When the missionaries left, the Banzas looked at each other and said, “Isn’t this the truth that we have heard?” They continued coming to church and meeting with the missionaries. They knew that baptism in the restored Church of Jesus Christ would have consequences. They would be stripped of their scholarships, their visas would be revoked, and they and their two young children would be required to leave Switzerland. They chose to be baptized and confirmed in October 1979.
Two weeks after their baptism, Brother and Sister Banza returned to Kinshasa as the first and second members of the Church in their country. The members of the Geneva Branch stayed in contact with them and helped them connect with Church leaders. The Banzas were encouraged to faithfully await the promised time when God would establish His Church in Zaire.
Meanwhile, another exchange student from Zaire, Brother Mbuyi, was studying in Belgium. He was baptized in 1980 in the Brussels Ward. Soon thereafter, he served a full-time mission to England. And God worked His miracles. Brother Mbuyi returned to Zaire as the third member of the Church in his country. With parental permission, Church meetings were held in his family home. In February 1986 a petition was made for official government recognition of the Church. The signatures of three citizens of Zaire were required. The three happy signatories of the petition were Brother Banza, Sister Banza, and Brother Mbuyi.
These stalwart members knew the truth when they heard it; they made a covenant at baptism that anchored them to the Savior. They metaphorically threw their old ways into a churning waterfall with no intention of retrieving them. The covenant path was never easy. Political turmoil, infrequent contact with Church leaders, and challenges inherent in building a community of Saints might have deterred less-committed individuals. But Brother and Sister Banza and Brother Mbuyi persevered in their faith. They were present at the dedication of the Kinshasa Temple, 33 years after they signed the petition that led to the official recognition of the Church in Zaire.
The Banzas are here in the Conference Center today. They are accompanied by their two sons, Junior and Phil, and daughters-in-law, Annie and Youyou. In 1986, Junior and Phil were the first two individuals baptized into the Church in Zaire. Brother Mbuyi is watching these proceedings from Kinshasa with his wife, Maguy, and their five children.

Samuel and Anna-Maria Koivisto showed both commitment and willingness. Soon after their marriage, the Koivistos moved from Finland to Sweden to pursue career opportunities. After arriving, Brother Koivisto was invited to visit with President Leif G. Mattsson, a counselor in the Göteborg Sweden Stake presidency. Because Samuel did not speak Swedish, they spoke in English.

Following a brief visit, President Mattsson asked Samuel to serve as a ward mission leader. Samuel pointed out the obvious, “But I don’t speak Swedish.”

President Mattsson leaned over his desk and pointedly asked, “Did I ask if you could speak Swedish, or are you willing to serve the Lord?”

Samuel answered, “You asked if I was willing to serve the Lord. And I am.”

Samuel accepted the calling. Anna-Maria also accepted callings. Both served faithfully and learned to speak beautiful Swedish along the way. Commitment and willingness to serve the Lord have characterized the lives of Samuel and Anna-Maria. They have taught me that when we serve, we use the talents we have, and the Lord then helps us accomplish His purposes.

In the summer of 1994 I took a break from school in Taipei, Taiwan, to return to my hometown of Miao-li to spend my vacation. While home I took a job at a floral shop. My heart is full of gratitude when I recall what followed.
As I was watering plants one day, a man in a motorized wheelchair stopped by to look at the flowers. He bashfully declined my invitation to come inside the store, but something about him left a deep impression on my mind. Afterward I ran into him several times on the street, and we would exchange a nod and a friendly smile.
One hot day as I was sitting in a restaurant enjoying a bowl of shaved ice, someone patted me on the shoulder. It was the man in the wheelchair. He was dressed up nicely and had a big smile on his face. He bravely asked for my name and phone number and left.
A few days later, he called to invite me to attend a Church dinner. Encouraged by a friend, I hesitantly went. The dinner was delicious, and the reception the members gave me made me feel welcome from the moment I entered. Later that evening another Church member asked for my address and phone number in Taipei and sent my information to the missionaries there. Thus began my eternal tie with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
I was baptized and confirmed in the fall of 1994 and served a full-time mission in 1997. Two years after I returned home, I married a returned missionary, and we began our family.
All of these blessings came to pass because a member of the Church had the courage to ask a question. At the time, he was a total stranger, but eventually he helped lead me to the Savior’s gospel. He reminds me of a scripture I came to know in the Book of Mormon: “I have none other object save it be the everlasting welfare of your souls” (2 Nephi 2:30).

For years William R. Wagstaff, who served in the North Central States Mission from 1928 to 1930, felt disappointed he had not baptized more people. In the summer of 1929 he and his companion visited a farm family about 180 miles west of Winnipeg.
“Brother Wagstaff remembered giving a copy of the Book of Mormon to the mother and discussing the gospel with her during numerous visits through that and the following summer.
“He recalled that during each visit ‘she’d take off her apron and we’d sit down and discuss the gospel. She’d read and have lots of questions.’
“But at the close of his mission, she still had not been baptized, and he lost touch with her.”
Brother Wagstaff went home, married, and raised a family. Then in October 1969 he and his wife attended his missionary reunion. “A lady approached him and asked, ‘Aren’t you Elder Wagstaff?’
“… She introduced herself as the woman he had taught on the farm outside Winnipeg. In her hand was a worn copy of the Book of Mormon—the one he had given her 40 years earlier.
“‘She showed me the book,’ he related. ‘I turned over the front and there was my name and address.’
“She then told Brother Wagstaff about 60 members of her family were members of the Church, including a branch president.”

Nicole’s mother encourages Nicole’s journal-writing habit. When Sister Igor was young, she wrote in a journal too. Unfortunately, she lost it when she moved to Santiago and got married.
“I was really sad to lose it,” Sister Igor says. “That was my life, everything that had happened to me. It was a personal treasure beyond price.”
So when Nicole’s older brother, Boris, was born, Sister Igor started over. She wrote about what she was thinking and feeling as first Boris and then Nicole were born.
Now Boris and Nicole enjoy reading about their mom. “It helps me understand what my mom has gone through,” Nicole says. She hopes her own children will learn about her the same way.

The power and influence one person can have is enormous. It was one Sarah Ann Meeks who paid what seemed to be her ultimate sacrifice as she stood alone on the doorstep of her home in far-off England nearly a century and a half ago. Her father met her there with a small bundle containing a few of her belongings and with these words, “You join that church and you must never set foot in my home again.” Unfortunately that was the last she saw of her family.

Alone? Very much alone! She could have bowed to that impossible, heart-wrenching rejection. But no—she loved the Lord. She had been touched by the Spirit and knew that the gospel of Jesus Christ had been restored to the earth in its fulness. She knew that she must stand as a witness to the truthfulness of this message. She knew that she could make a difference.

From that one stalwart woman has sprung a progeny of faithful Latter-day Saints difficult to number. Literally hundreds of her descendants have stood as witnesses all around the world testifying to the reality of the Restoration of the gospel—the same message she embraced as she stood alone. As one of those descendants I bear solemn testimony to all the world that God the Eternal Father lives, that Jesus is the Christ, the Savior of the world, and that leading The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints today is a living and loving prophet of God, serving with all the meaning that sacred title implies.

George Albert Smith and his wife, Lucy, took seriously the divine mandate to “bring up [their] children in light and truth” (D&C 93:40). Their daughter Edith told of one occasion when her father took advantage of a teaching opportunity. She had taken the streetcar home from a piano lesson, and the conductor neglected to collect her fare. “Somehow he passed me by,” she recounted, “and I reached my destination still holding my nickel in my hand, and frankly quite elated that I had made the trip free.
“… I ran gleefully to Father to tell him about my good fortune. He listened to my story patiently. I was beginning to think I was a great success. …
“When I had finished my tale, Father said, ‘But, darling, even if the conductor doesn’t know about this, you know and I know and Heavenly Father knows. So, there are still three of us who must be satisfied in seeing that you pay in full for value received.’”
Edith returned to the street corner and paid her fare. She said later, “I am indeed thankful for a Father who was wise enough to kindly point out the error to me, because if it had been overlooked, I could have thought he approved.”13

As we got to know each other, our conversations sometimes evolved into debates, with Karen defending religion while I argued for science. Our discussions served mostly to frustrate her.
But Karen had a friend named Nese. Nese never said more than “Hi” to me in the halls at school, but she had listened closely to my conversations with Karen.
Nese never told me directly that she was a Latter-day Saint. She strolled up to my table in the library one day during study hall. “May I sit down?” she asked. At some point during the conversation, she said she was a member of the house of Israel. I assumed she meant she was Jewish.
We had classes all at the same hour, and during the remaining months of our senior year, Nese and I sorted through the many religious questions flooding my mind. She told me later she “just wanted to share her opinion with someone who wouldn’t laugh at her.” I would tell my ideas on a subject like life after death, and then she would explain her beliefs. Her confidence amazed me. It wasn’t until later that I found out she was a Latter-day Saint.
By then our talks were so enjoyable I began spending lunch hours with Nese and her Mormon friends. They were refreshing to be around. No smoking, no swearing, no improper jokes. Best of all, they never seemed to ridicule anybody—they respected each other’s feelings. It was different being with them, and I enjoyed it.
Towards the end of the school year, Karen invited me to a Gold and Green Ball, I had no idea what that was. I had never been to a dance in a church, and I had to dress in a suit! I was amazed to see a gymnasium in a church building.
But what went on in the gym surprised me even more. Adults and teenagers were talking, laughing, and even dancing together. My friends had always thought it was childish to like your parents. All over the nation there was an uproar about communication breakdown between parents and their children. But these people all seemed to be friends, regardless of age.
I asked Karen about it. She said it was because of the Church. As she took me on a tour of the building, I pondered what she had said. By the time I went home that night, I felt these people were unique, they were choice in some way I didn’t fully understand. They had a lot to be proud of.
After graduation my summer job took me away from my new-found group of friends. I was employed at a gas station, where I was unhappy because of my co-workers’ lack of concern. I was depressed, unhappy, and alone.
One afternoon in July, Nese and a friend drove up to the station. Just seeing them boosted my morale. They were planning to sing in the Oakland Temple Pageant and invited me to attend.
I’ll always remember that special evening. It was the first time I heard the story of Joseph Smith and learned the history of the Latter-day Saints I had grown to admire. At the end of the pageant, the audience rose and sang “The Spirit of God Like a Fire Is Burning.” (Hymns No. 213) How I wanted to know the words of the song so I could join the chorus! I felt completely full of respect and love.
The crowd left slowly. Standing in the parking lot, I looked up at the temple. A voice in the back of my mind told me that some day I would enter that building.
When fall came, Nese left to attend Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. I returned to Berkeley, California. Loneliness encompassed me again. Nese’s letters arrived regularly, two or three times weekly. I asked her why she was Mormon. The next letter bulged the envelope. It was a detailed explanation of her struggle to remain active and maintain a firm testimony while living with her inactive family.
I decided I had to go to church. That was a difficult decision because no one pushed me to attend. I had been allowed to come to the conclusion by myself.
I nearly changed my mind when I opened the door. I entered the chapel by myself, spotted an empty seat on the back row, and quickly sat down. Was I going to be all alone here, too? I wondered inside.
Then suddenly Karen, who had appeared from nowhere, was shaking my hand. “Good morning, David,” she said, grinning. I wasn’t alone anymore. She introduced me to people, showed me which class to go to, and sat beside me the entire time.
I was impressed to find a class I could bring my questions to and get answers. Furthermore, the teacher, Sister Booras, took time afterwards to thank me for coming. “You added a great deal to our class,” she said. I had never felt so at home before.
But I still didn’t have that spiritual testimony of the Church; I could believe in many of its teachings, but I didn’t know it was true. I kept attending the meetings anyway.
One month later, Nese urged me to come to Brigham Young University. I jumped at the chance and rushed to Provo for a whirlwind visit. She described her school as if it were part of her. As we walked around campus, all we talked about was religion. My mind was overflowing with questions again, as it had been in the high school library. I still didn’t see how everything fit together.
The thing that held me back was the principle of eternal progression. “It just can’t be right.” I said, “How can man, who was created by God, ever hope to be a god?”
We were standing in front of the Joseph Smith Building. Nese paused for a moment.
“Dave,” she said, “before we were ever created physically, we were created spiritually as God’s sons and daughters. A part of us, our spirit, comes directly from him as our Father.”
I finally understood! It all fell into place. My grin spread to a smile and erupted as a laugh. I couldn’t stop grinning. My mind jumped from doctrine to doctrine. “Yes, yes, it all fits!” I wanted to dance or sing or run.
There, on the steps of the Joseph Smith Building, the Spirit bore witness to me of the gospel plan. I knew in my heart I would join the Church.
I still had to read the Book of Mormon, learn to pray, and take the missionary discussions. But my life was changed from that moment on. I had found truth, purpose, and a life to fulfill. Five weeks later I was baptized.
Eighteen months later, my impression that I would one day enter the Oakland Temple came true, as I received my endowments one week before leaving on a mission. When I returned, Nese and I decided to continue the eternal journey we had begun with conversations at a table in a library. We were married in the Provo Temple.
Every time I look at my wife, I thank the Lord that there was a girl in my high school with enough faith to “just want to share her beliefs with someone who wouldn’t laugh at her.” She touched my heart and changed my life.

One day we got a call from a woman who was an alcoholic. She had joined the Church in her early married years and had been active as a Sunday School teacher. But when we found her she was lying sick in a tiny two-room trailer home.
After we took her to the hospital, we assumed the task of cleaning up the trailer, where she and her two boys, ages eleven and fifteen, had been living in unbelievable conditions. As I stood washing dishes in the midst of empty whisky bottles, beer cans, and dirty clothes, with the sun beating down on the tin roof and sweat running down my face, with roaches crawling on my legs, and with an almost unbearable stench permeating the air—somehow it didn’t seem to matter that much. One of God’s children needed help. Over and over again, the scripture came to me: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” (Matt. 25:40.)
We worked with this woman for the next ten months, and the boys started coming to their Church meetings. Each time we would visit, she would put her arms around me and tell me how much she loved me.
In our second location, we were again assigned to work with the many inactive families in the branch. In the remaining four months of our mission, we were able to visit about sixty-five of these families, some of them several times. We were only able to activate about ten families, but we made many friends and had many heartwarming experiences. We hoped to have sown seeds that would eventually sprout and grow.
Three baptisms the night before we left brought our mission to a beautiful close. These were children of part-member families, and teaching them the gospel was one of the greatest spiritual experiences of our mission. During the lessons the children seemed to hang on every word with wide-eyed wonder, and I felt as though we were surrounded by angels. There was a large crowd at the baptism, and again the Spirit was very strong in our midst. Afterwards there was a time of tears, embracing, and good-byes.
It is remarkable and marvelous how the Lord is able to work through human beings as weak and simple as my husband and me to accomplish his purposes. Ben often said to people, “I don’t do much. My wife has to do most of the talking.” But this was not so. In spite of his handicaps, he had very special talents and qualifications that were needed for our work. It was his patience, long-suffering, and persistence, his selflessness and generosity, his faith, his ability to reach the down-and-out and backsliding, that made it possible for the Lord to work through him and pull us through the difficult parts of our mission.
As we reflected on our mission, we came to an important and surprising realization: that every experience of our lives, even the seemingly ordinary things, seemed to have been part of the preparation for our mission. Ben’s many years of experience in working with the youth in Scouting, MIA, and Sunday School paid off greatly. His experience in organizing and directing men at work helped him. His ability as a handyman was also very useful. Little children loved and idolized him because he loved them dearly and could relate to them.
As it was with Ben, so it was with me. Almost every experience I had had in my life seemed to be a preparation for the work I needed to do on my mission. Bits of wisdom tucked away even in childhood, my experience in music and drama, secretarial work, and nursing, my training in psychology and work in a mental hospital, my homemaking skills, my years through the Depression, my seminary work, my experience with raising a large family, my positions in the Church—all proved to be useful. It was amazing how the Spirit of the Lord opened to my use many of my most hidden resources.
All in all, our eighteen months in the mission field was a glorious experience. The blessings we received and the answers to our prayers—both for help in our personal lives and in the lives of those we sought to reach—are too numerous to relate. The Lord was with us every step of the way and every hour of the day. The love and experiences we shared with those kind and loving people gave us some of the most beautiful moments in our lives. The sweet relationship we had with the young elders is also a treasured memory. Our wonderful zone conferences each month, which gave us such spiritual uplift and inspiration, are unforgettable moments.
To those couples who are timid and feel inadequate or incapable of a mission, I would say this: If we could do it, you can too. Don’t be reluctant or afraid. If you are willing, and if you trust in the Lord, he will give you the needed strength.

Returning to college to begin my sophomore year, I found myself the only active member of the Church at my school. In my freshman year of college, there were two of us who were. The summer after my freshman year, the other LDS student left on a mission, and that fall no new LDS students showed up in the incoming freshman class. I was alone.
With no other LDS students near me and my family thousands of miles away, feelings of loneliness and uncertainty crept into my life. I began to doubt and question the Church and myself. I still knew that the Church was true, but I was full of questions. If Heavenly Father really loved His children, why was I the only one out of so many to have the gift of the Book of Mormon? Why did only one person out of an entire college believe in the restored gospel?
I still went to church every week. I read the Book of Mormon every night and prayed every morning and night. That’s what made it so hard. I was trying to do everything right, yet I still felt like Heavenly Father was not answering my prayers, and I still felt fear and doubt. All I needed was a spiritual boost. I wasn’t looking for a huge sign or miracle. I just wanted to feel the Spirit in the same strong way that I had previously felt it.
So many times in my past I had answers to prayers, experiences in the temple, or moments reading the scriptures when I had felt the Spirit so strongly—moments when my testimony of the Church was confirmed. All I needed was to feel that same Spirit again. I prayed frequently, pleading with my Heavenly Father to let me know again, let me feel again, let me have a reason to throw away all my doubts.
I never did have an “aha!” moment. I was not brought to tears with convincing feelings of the Spirit. There wasn’t just one clear answer to my prayers. It took time, but over the next weeks and months, as I continued to try to do what was right, I found small answers. A verse in the scriptures, a speaker at a singles conference, and President Hinckley’s words at general conference all helped me to slowly shove out my doubts.
Throughout that semester I learned that I did not always feel the Spirit in the same way. Sometimes I had a strong, warm feeling; sometimes I felt overwhelming joy; but sometimes I just felt okay. I realized that there is strength in remembering previous spiritual experiences. I did not need to have another strong spiritual confirmation of the truthfulness of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I just had to trust in the feelings I had previously.
Hebrews 10:32 says, “Call to remembrance the former days, in which, after ye were illuminated, ye endured a great fight of afflictions.”
I had been “illuminated” by the Spirit before, and with the help of the Spirit I had endured trials before. I had to remember those previous experiences. Satan would like me to forget my earlier testimony-building feelings and experiences, but I can fight his efforts by having faith in myself, in the Church, and in the Spirit that I had felt before.
“Let us hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering” (Heb. 10:23). I now know that even when we do have doubts and fears and it seems like Heavenly Father isn’t answering our prayers, we have to just keep praying. He is always there and always listening.

“I remember the bombings, and I remember soldiers occupying our country,” Elder Didier recalled. “But I especially remember the scarcity of food. We grew up without many of the basic foods that most children have today. During five long years, only once did I have an orange to eat. It was a Christmas present at school. I took it home, and my mother peeled it carefully so that we could all have a piece.”

What an uplift President Kimball’s August message on testimony was to me. I have been a member of the Church all my life but never have I enjoyed such an upliftment. I have spent the whole summer in the hospital, so I have not been able to attend my meetings like I always do. The meeting I have missed the most is testimony meeting. This meeting seems to do me the most good. I grow so much from others’ testimonies. However, as I lay in my bed one day, I had a strong urge to bear my testimony. I felt a strong feeling that my Heavenly Father was with me, so I poured out my heart to him. I shared my testimony with my best friend. I lay there and cried because I knew that my testimony had been heard. It needed to be shared, and my Heavenly Father knew it.
I am still in the hospital, but I know God lives and I know that we have living prophets guiding us today. The gospel is so marvelous, and this is a wonderful time to live. I have felt lonely at times in this hospital room, but I have learned many lessons, and the Lord has always been with me.
The power of the priesthood has also been an uplift in my life. My dad and my brother have brought the sacrament to me with my bishop’s approval.
The gospel is marvelous and has been such an inspiration in my life. Thank you, President Kimball, for your most beautiful article. It was one I needed right now in my life.
Jo HendricksApple Valley, California