Gospel Story Finder

I love fast and testimony meetings! February 5, 1984—my first experience attending The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was a dramatic turning point in my life. I felt the Spirit and did not even recognize it, because I did not know the Spirit. The Savior speaking to his disciples about this precious gift of a member of the Godhead said, “Even the Spirit of truth; whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth him not, neither knoweth him: but ye know him; for he dwelleth with you and shall be in you” (John 14:17). The Lord in his tender mercies reached out to me through President Allen and the two other members who bore pure, heartfelt testimonies about the Savior Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon. I felt the still, small voice assuring me that I was in good company and those people were my brothers and sisters regardless of our diversity. The feeling of being in a servant relationship, which almost took me out of the chapel, vanished. I made up my mind that day, that this was the church I wanted to belong to.

This story teaches this principle well.
A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his steps faltered. The family ate together at the table.
But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.
The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. "We must do something about father," said the son. "I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor."
So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl!
When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometime he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four-year old watched it all in silence.
One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, "What are you making?"
Just as sweetly, the boy responded, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up." The four-year old smiled and went back to work.
The words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done.
That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table. For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.

Salote:
Two years after our son Esa died of lung cancer, our daughter Esalynn died of meningitis. In the temple, I felt a strong prompting to speak with a senior sister missionary there who also lost two children years earlier. She told me, “If you make your home a holy place, you can feel your children’s presence there.”
That has become our goal. Everything we do is to make our home a holy place. We want to feel them close.
We don’t know how to parent children beyond the veil. But if we do our best to live righteously, we believe they will feel our efforts. In our family devotionals, we welcome Esa and Esalynn by name.
In our home, even when we have a disagreement, we try to resolve it quickly. We want our home to stay a holy place as much as possible. As we’ve done so, we have all felt hope and healing and love.
Sakiusa:
The experience of losing Esa and Esalynn has ultimately brought our family closer together. We counsel together with our other children. We attend the temple as a family. We live our lives as simple as possible and choose gratitude every day. As we talk about what it means to be sealed as a family in the temple, that sealing becomes alive in us. And through all of this, we do feel the presence of our children.
One of the first things we did to make our home holier was to start reading the Book of Mormon daily. At first, we shared Book of Mormon stories with pictures for our younger children. Then we added videos. Now we’re reading more from the Book of Mormon. I can testify of the power of the Book of Mormon.

Leaders of the Church have counseled us to cultivate a garden at our homes. Recently, members from the Mountain View Ward in Nairobi, Kenya heeded that counsel, and following their bishop’s assignment and worked hard to create a ward shamba (the word ‘shamba’ means ‘garden’ in Swahili). Ward members joined hands and applied their knowledge in transforming the thickets and shrubs into a bountiful harvest.
Finally, the day came when the rewards were quite visible and abundant. The Mountain View Ward members’ hard work proved itself. There was an abundance of food, ranging from bananas to mboga to beans and they are about to harvest the maize. It was clear that the members’ aim wasn’t for instant gratification. They understood that in all harvests, some blessings don’t come until later, so they chose to be patient with the sweet potatoes and cassava.

We become more aware of our agency as we come into our adolescent years of life. Whereas we heretofore have been obedient without questioning, now we rebel at compulsion and dislike gentle suggestions. We want our independence. We want to exercise our agency that was given to us by the Lord. This can be a very sensitive period, for ofttimes we exercise our agency without the wisdom of experience. Let me give you an example. When one of our sons was seventeen years of age, he became typically independent. We did not understand the problem and were deeply concerned. He was a good boy but seemed to have become a bit rebellious. Nevertheless, he was always willing to go home teaching with me as he was assigned by the bishop to be my companion. We had arranged an appointment to go home teaching on a particular Thursday evening. I wanted our families to implement in the home the principles of the gospel introduced in church, so I asked Sister Derrick, “What did you study in Relief Society last month?”

She responded, “We studied the principle of independence.”

David and I went into the bedroom, kneeled in prayer, and then sat on the bed; we talked and read from the scriptures about independence.

The second home we visited was that of President Kimball. He answered the door. We sat down in the front room with him and Sister Kimball. Following brief words of greeting, I said to Sister Kimball, “I understand you studied the principle of independence in Relief Society last month.”

“Yes,” she responded.

I turned to David and said, “Would you like to tell us your thoughts on independence?” The response he gave caused my heart to leap for joy.

He said, “Every young man and every young woman wants to be independent. I want to be independent.” I thought that was a great statement, for I believe it is true. He continued, “I always thought that to be independent you had to not do what our parents wanted you to do, but I’ve discovered tonight that, if you want to be independent, you have to keep the commandments of the Lord. The Lord has given us his commandments so that we can remain free. The Lord wants us to be free. But if we do not keep his commandments, we will come under the control of Lucifer. Lucifer wants to take our independence from us. Therefore, we are in jeopardy of losing the very thing we are trying to gain.” You can appreciate how delighted I was to hear those words. He has been a model son since that day.

My legs felt like gelatin and there was a knot in my stomach as we approached the door. I was sure that I was going to faint as my companion told me that this was my door.
No, I wasn’t a new missionary. I was a 15-year-old home teacher climbing the stairs to the apartment of Sister Rice, a widow living in the Bountiful (Utah) First Ward. Don Gabbott, my companion, was to teach me a great lesson that night about the nurturing role of priesthood bearers to shut-ins who are cut off from the mainstream of Church activity.
Brother Gabbott had given me a topic to present to the five families assigned us, and I was frightened. Inexperienced, I was prepared with some notes on a paper, but I was unsure of how to take the lead in the presence of a high priest.
The response to our knocking was slow in coming. Even though we could see through the storm door window, I was about to suggest that no one was home. Then the shrunken figure of a frail, aged sister, came around a corner in the hallway. She seemed uncertain of what waited her answer at the door. Her face brightened as she recognized Brother Gabbott. We were invited into her living room and asked to take a seat.
After a short greeting, Brother Gabbott looked at me as if to say, “Okay, Bob, it’s time to give our message.” The knot in my stomach tightened as I began to speak. I cannot recall what I said—it doesn’t really matter—for I was the pupil in the classroom of priesthood duty and responsibility. As I glanced up from my notes at the conclusion of my remarks, my eyes fell upon the tear-stained cheeks of that sweet, sensitive sister. She expressed her gratitude for the presence of priesthood bearers in her humble home.
I was speechless. What had I done? What had I said that had been so profound? What could I do? Fortunately, Brother Gabbott came to my rescue by bearing his testimony and asking if there were any needs in the home. There were.
Sister Rice said that she had not been feeling well and asked that she be remembered as we offered our prayer before leaving. She then turned to me and asked if I would offer that prayer. By that time, I was so overcome by the spirit of the occasion that the request numbed me. I was surprised that I was asked to pray when someone older and more experienced and trusted was present. Automatically, I consented and offered a benediction upon that home teaching visit, asking that a special blessing of health and strength be given to that faithful sister whom I barely knew but quickly came to love and respect.
Twenty-five years have passed since my introduction to home teaching in the home of Sister Rice, and she has long since passed away. But I cannot pass that orange-brick fourplex on Bountiful’s Main Street without thinking about the experience provided by Brother Gabbott and a faithful sister who knew the appropriateness of calling upon the powers of heaven embodied in an obedient high priest and an insecure, frightened teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood.

I never seemed to quit gossiping. I didn’t think of how it affected other people but instead thought only of what I would gain from it. I thought I could become more popular by knowing everything about others.
One day I received an invitation to a friend’s party. When I arrived at the party, I met a girl I disliked. While she was in another room watching TV, the rest of us formed a circle. We began to talk about how mean the girl was and how we hated her.
One of my nonmember friends stood up, looked at everyone, and said, “We shouldn’t talk behind someone’s back, no matter how mean they are. It’s not right.” She then left the circle.
Everyone disagreed with her but me. I was speechless. I stood up and left the circle too. I thought to myself: “You knew better. Your example hasn’t been the right one.” I began to cry.
I realized that I had been hurting others. My friend had shown great courage; I had been too scared to think of standing for truth and righteousness. That night I repented. I promised Heavenly Father that I would try to do the right thing and be a good example to others no matter what situation I’m in.

I played basketball on a full-ride scholarship at BYU–Provo my freshman and sophomore years, then went on mission. I came back with high expectations of making the team again. I worked on it, I prayed for it, and told the Lord all the reasons I should and wanted to make it. Well, I was cut from the team, lost my scholarship, and had to work as a custodian to support myself. Talk about pain and humiliation. Now I see the Lord wanted me to be a student, not a competitive athlete. Then my life took the direction the Lord wanted.

A few years ago, I was one of a few Church members in my grade. People thought I was weird because I was dedicated to living all of the standards of the Church. So one day I decided that I could compromise my standards a little bit. When I did, I noticed that I had more attention from others. But after just a few weeks, I felt guilty and turned to the Lord for repentance. He did help me, and I had to make a lot of sacrifices, but it was worth it! I truly got to see the blessings of living the gospel at school. I did lose friends and attention, but I gained respect and happiness.
Sutton K., 15, Texas, USA

Several years ago in a temple in Central America, the wife of one of our now-emeritus General Authorities assisted a father, a mother, and their children in receiving eternal covenants in the sealing room, where the temple mirrors are located. As they concluded and faced those mirrors, she noticed there was a face in the mirror that was not in the room. She inquired of the mother and learned that a daughter had passed away and accordingly was not physically present. The deceased daughter was then included by proxy in the sacred ordinance.27 Never underestimate the assistance provided in temples from the other side of the veil.

In our early married years we moved to LA to enroll at USC for full-time doctoral studies. I also had a demanding full-time job and was recovering from being hospitalized several times, including for some tough surgery. We were still in our twenties and far from family while we struggled through a fifth very difficult pregnancy, and then the death of a child. While still wondering how we could possibly carry on I was called to serve as bishop.
This calling could not have come at a more difficult time. Of course, we accepted. My doctoral chairman, the dean who was the national president of my profession, was very upset. He said I would never finish my studies and he wrote me off. We grew much in those years and Karen and I witnessed many miracles with our service and studies. I earned the education and credentials on schedule, plus got praise and support from my former critic.

I remember one sister who had great potential, but she was less than satisfied with her husband. How often do Church leaders hear about less than satisfactory spouses? This sister’s frustration was not without grounds. She didn’t have a temple marriage, and her husband was not active in the Church. They had lovely children, and she said she wanted an eternal family. And I believe she did. But she had a wandering eye, and an enterprising acquaintance was more than happy to oblige her discontent. He was willing to be everything she wanted, or so he professed. And then the fairy tale began.

He convinced her of the wonderful father he would be to her children—never mind that he had already failed one marriage, irreparably wounding his own offspring.

He would walk the temple grounds with her, talking about the celestial marriage that she deserved—never mind that he was unworthy to hold a temple recommend.

And the tales continued, right from the temple grounds to the motel room where, having got what he wanted, “. . . nothing now remained to do, but begin the game anew,” to steal a line from A. E. Housman.

The result was predictable. No amount of warning could change the course of events. How we humans love to pretend, to chase dreams.

She abandoned her family, letting her husband sue for divorce, to follow her newfound lover. But then he decided he really didn’t want another marriage after all, and she was left with broken promises and more shattered dreams. The only winner? Of course, Lucifer. His winnings? One family destroyed, a half-dozen lives shattered.

I was recently asked to speak about what our family is doing to become a celestial family. My father suggested I speak on how to serve ice cream in a society made up of righteous families. Now maybe you are like me. I didn’t know there was any special way to serve ice cream in such a society until my dad explained it to me.
He first told me to research the subject in the scriptures. But, after failing to find anything about ice cream in the Bible or Doctrine and Covenants, I gave up. I didn’t even look in the Book of Mormon. That was a big mistake, for that is where you find the best discourse on serving ice cream in a truly righteous family. Actually it doesn’t talk much about ice cream. It hits that very lightly. But it does teach you a lot about proper technique in serving ice cream.
Maybe you could understand better if I told you how I used to serve ice cream and then explain the difference.
Since I am a teenager, when dad or mom would ask me to serve everyone some ice cream, the first thing I would do was find me a cereal bowl and stack the ice cream to the teenager level, which is about two inches above the rim. Then I would dish up the ice cream for the rest of my family. However, my brother and sisters are smaller than I, so of course the small ice cream dishes are just about right for them. Rachelle, my 11-year-old sister, thinks she should get a cereal bowl too, which is ridiculous because she isn’t even a teenager yet.
Well, my dad showed me in the Book of Mormon where it explains that my method wouldn’t have made the grade.
In 4 Nephi it tells what it was like after the Savior visited the people in America following his resurrection. After his visit, the people really lived righteous lives. And the way they lived can help us understand how to develop celestial families. It even teaches us how to serve ice cream.
The Book of Mormon, in 4 Nephi, [4 Ne. 1] says that the people had no jealousies, they were not envious, and they had no contentions or disputations among them. They had all things in common, and there were no rich or poor, and there was peace in the land. They went to sacrament and priesthood meetings to hear the word of the Lord, and they continued to fast and pray.
But let’s get back to ice cream! My dad gently explained to me that when I have the standard teenager’s portion, it makes Rachelle and Kristi, my number two sister, jealous and envious. When they get like that, they start giving me all kinds of reasons why they should have as much as I do. Of course, I have to explain to them, loud enough for them to understand, that teenagers need more nourishment than “little girls.” Then they always have a response for that. And I have to reply—in a slightly louder tone, of course.
Well, when I read 4 Nephi, I could see that we were having one of those “disputations” that Nephi was talking about; and the disputation had been caused by a “contention;” and the contention was caused by “envying.”
So you can see that there is a certain way that you have to serve ice cream in a family desiring to be more righteous.
Mom also pointed out something else. If everyone is allowed to have a fair share, according to their needs, then there are really no rich ice cream eaters and no poor ice cream eaters. Having no rich or poor means that everyone has as much as he needs, but he does not have so much more than someone else that they get envious and cause contentions which lead to disputations.
When these disputations are avoided, there really is “peace in the land.” At least there is peace in the family room, and everyone is happier!
When you think about it, this idea has some interesting applications when it comes to who is going to sit where in the car, or who is going to do what in family home evening, or which TV show to watch.
My serving of ice cream has changed since I read 4 Nephi, and I have discovered that to live like they did after Christ’s visit, we have to concentrate on the little things we do day to day and the way we treat each other or think of each other. And you know, it helps me to think of my brother and sisters as much as myself. Mom says there is something about that in the scriptures, too. I suppose I should find that scripture as well.

That’s what impressed Aaron, 17, when he was investigating the Church. Aaron’s your typical high school senior. He’s into sports, “hanging out” with the guys, and reading the Book of Mormon. But if it hadn’t been for the love his friends showed him by inviting him to play on church athletic teams, to attend priesthood meetings, and to join them in family home evenings, he never would have realized there was more to life than friends and sports.

By the same token, a lack of that love is a major factor in keeping some people away from the Church. For example, Pam, 18, said, “The Mormon kids in the neighborhood used to make fun of my parents and tell me they would go to hell because they smoked. They said they didn’t want to play with me because my clothes and house smelled like cigarettes. Why would I be interested in a church where the parents teach the kids to be prejudiced like that?”

In a western city a young man had been preparing for 18 years to go on a mission. He was excited, his parents were excited, his girlfriend was also, and he was ready.

One evening at the city swimming pool, he and some friends were diving from the highboard. The second he hit the water, he knew his approach angle had not been good. He was in trouble. His head pierced the water and struck the bottom of the pool with a sickening thud. He was immediately knocked unconscious. He was brought carefully to the poolside and then rushed to the hospital. After weeks of medical attention, he was finally told that he would be paralyzed from his neck down for the rest of his life. He couldn’t move a finger or a toe, an arm or a leg. He would now lie in bed forever. His body would become a useless thing, and unless something unusual happened, so would his spirit.

A wise bishop recognized the problem. After talking with the boy’s parents and the doctor, the bishop gave him an assignment. It was unbelievable, unreal, impossible! The assignment: would he please write a letter each month to every missionary and serviceman from their ward? Was the bishop just not thinking or was he inspired? How could the boy write with no hands or fingers to assist? Some had learned to use their toes in such an emergency, but he couldn’t move his. Having faith in their bishop, the boy and his parents started to work on the assignment. It took days, weeks, and months of effort and discouragement. In time, it began to happen.

By putting a pencil between his teeth and moving his head, he learned to make a mark, then a word, next a sentence, and finally a page. He wrote and wrote.

For more than 20 years he has been writing beautiful letters. He has inspired thousands. The side benefit is that his own spirit, simply stated, is magnificent. Is it worth the effort to follow our leaders’ counsel no matter how hard or how difficult? He thinks so. So do I.

Some time ago, I was asked to escort a group of visitors through the Church Office Building in Salt Lake City. They wanted to know something more about the doctrines of the Church, the functions of Church leadership, and the organization of the Church. They seemed very interested, and we had a pleasant discussion period.
During the tour, one young woman held up her hand and asked, “Brother Sill, have you ever seen God?” I was a little bit startled, as I had not expected this kind of a question. I said to her, “If you don’t mind, I would like to give you three answers to that question.
“Answer Number One, which I am sure comes closest to the spirit of your question, is no, I have not. But that answer by itself is not complete, nor is it altogether accurate. So I will add a second answer and say, I have not seen Him since the day of my birth on March 31, 1903. But I saw Him many times prior to that time.”
The scriptures are very clear about the fact that we lived with God in heaven before our earth-life began. He is our Eternal Father. Each of us has seen and heard Him many times.
The great philosopher Socrates contended that all learning is merely remembering. God is our teacher, and much of what we are we brought with us from His presence in heaven.
“Now for the third answer: While it is true that I have not seen God during my mortality, it is also true that I have not seen my own spirit since my mortal birth, and yet I am sure I have one.”
While I have not seen the Lord personally during this life, I have read very carefully several times the four great volumes of scripture He has caused to be written. I know how He thinks. I know what He wants me to do. I know from the testimony of people who have seen Him what He looks like. And I know many other things about Him.
For example, the resurrected Jesus appeared to John the Revelator on the Isle of Patmos. John says that he was in the Spirit on the Lord’s day when he heard behind him a great voice, as of a trumpet. John turned to see who had spoken to him, and he saw “one like unto the Son of man, clothed with a garment down to the foot, and girt about … with a golden girdle.
“His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow; and his eyes were as a flame of fire.” (Rev. 1:13–14.)
When the Prophet Joseph Smith had his vision of the Father and the Son, he said that their “brightness and glory defy all description.” (JS—H 1:17.)
There are some experiences, even in this life, that we have trouble describing. For example, if I were to attempt to describe the look in my little granddaughter’s eyes when she is happy, I might have a little trouble in doing so. I might try by saying “her eyes sparkled,” or “her face was aglow.” In actuality, neither of these are so. My granddaughter’s eyes are always the same size, the same shape, the same color. But when she is happy, something is shining out through her face that I can understand but may have difficulty describing.
In describing the resurrected Jesus, John said His eyes were as a flame of fire. This quality of radiance and glory is magnified many times. John tried to describe the voice of the resurrected Lord by saying it was a great voice, as of a trumpet. I have a very good friend who has one of these “trumpet” kind of voices. It has a clear, harmonious resonance that is easily understood and beautiful to listen to. His enunciation is near perfect.
Some speakers have another kind of trumpet which Paul described by saying, “For if the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself to the battle?” (1 Cor. 14:8.) Some speakers have a trumpet that is not loud enough to be heard nor clear enough to be understood nor interesting enough to hold attention.
I imagine the voice of the resurrected Jesus to be as far above my friend’s voice in resonance and beauty as the glow in the Lord’s face excels that of my granddaughter.
The Prophet Joseph Smith also saw the Lord face-to-face after the dedication of the Kirtland Temple. In describing what He looked like, the Prophet said, “His eyes were as a flame of fire; the hair of his head was white like the pure snow; his countenance shone above the brightness of the sun.” (D&C 110:3.) That is very bright!
But these are qualities that other of God’s children may possess in some degree. For example, the resurrected Moroni also appeared to Joseph Smith, and the Prophet gave us a detailed description as follows: “His whole person was glorious beyond description, and his countenance truly like lightning.” (JS—H 1:32.)
Not only was his person glorious, but even his clothing was brilliant. The Prophet said: “He had on a loose robe of most exquisite whiteness. It was a whiteness beyond anything earthly I had ever seen; nor do I believe that any earthly thing could be made to appear so exceedingly white and brilliant.” (JS—H 1:31.)
Socrates was said to be a very homely man; but he prayed to God and said, “Make me beautiful within.” We have all seen plain people who have become beautiful by the working of a radiant spirituality. A godly spirit can make the plainest body beautiful.
Although I have not seen the Lord in this life, yet I know His word. I know of the great Atonement made on behalf of all of God’s children. I know about the Lord’s glorious, celestial resurrection, a resurrection similar to that which He has promised to all of those who keep His commandments. I know the course of that strait and narrow way and how to follow it so that we might qualify for the celestial kingdom.
On one occasion the Lord said to Thomas, “Because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: [more] blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.” (John 20:29.) The Lord himself promised, “Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.” (Matt. 5:48.) With all of these advantages, I should be able to make it on my own until He comes in clouds of glory for His millennial reign upon the earth when every eye shall see Him and every heart shall rejoice in His blessings.
In preparation for that great event, let us strive to get a more radiant light in our eyes, a greater glow in our hearts, and a finer fire in our souls. Then at that day, when we do see Him for ourselves, we too can be made glorious.

When I was 17 years old, we lived on an island in southern Norway called Andabeløy. My father converted to the Church on Andabeløy, and I was baptized in the ocean there.
I was a fisherman by that time and was well experienced in handling a boat. My father put me in charge of our maritime taxi service used by area residents.
One day in 1941 we got a call from the doctor in Flekkefjord, to the north. A woman who lived about two hours away by boat needed immediate medical attention. Dr. Hoffman asked if I could take him to see her, but my parents were worried about a storm raging in the North Sea. We decided to pray, asking Heavenly Father what to do. We received an answer that I should proceed.
When I eased Tryg, my 31-foot (10 m) fishing boat, into the sea, the weather was bad and the waves were big. After picking up the doctor, I set out through the fjord into the open sea. We were to travel to a community just north of Lista, located on Norway’s rocky southern coastline—famous for stormy weather and shipwrecks.
I steered through the storm until we got to a rocky inlet, about 40 feet (12 m) across, which led to our destination. The waves, so high I could not control the boat through the inlet, were rushing into the inlet and crashing against the rocks.
“What should we do?” the doctor asked over the gale.
“We have to pray about it,” I replied.
I paused and prayed, asking Heavenly Father for direction. As soon as I had said amen, an answer came to me clearly. I suddenly recalled a story an old fisherman had told me. He had been fishing in this same area during a bad storm and couldn’t get to shore. As he waited out the storm, he noticed a pattern in the incoming waves. After three great big waves washed in, a short period of calm followed—long enough for him to enter the inlet.
I had fished many times in this area but had never noticed a wave pattern. Nevertheless, I brought the boat to the front of the inlet, where we waited and watched as three big waves came in. Sure enough, a sudden calm followed. I glided the boat forward over the smooth water of the inner bay and brought Dr. Hoffman safely to shore. He hurried to the ill woman while I waited in the boat, thankful Heavenly Father had answered my prayer.
When the doctor returned about an hour later, he declared, “We saved her life!”
Relieved by the news and the improving weather, I piloted the boat home without incident.
I bear witness that when we need help, we should pray. I know that Heavenly Father will answer.

I wish to bear you my witness of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and the power of His infinite, atoning sacrifice. In doing so, I will call upon an experience from my years in Tennessee. One evening there I received a call at home from a gentleman I did not know. He introduced himself as a recently retired minister of another faith and asked to meet with me privately the following Sunday. When we met, my guest stated frankly he had come out of concern for the welfare of my soul. He pulled out of his portfolio a fairly long list of scripture citations from the New Testament and said he wanted to review these verses with me and see if he could help me be saved. I was a bit surprised at his directness, but I could tell that he was sincere, and I was touched by his genuine interest in me.
We conversed for more than an hour, and he was open to hear me explain something of my faith as well as to read with me some teachings from the Book of Mormon with which he was not familiar. We found there was much we believed in common and some things we did not. We felt a bond of friendship and prayed together before he left. What remains with me is our discussion about being born again. It is spiritual rebirth through Jesus Christ that is the context of my witness of Him.

Many years ago, I traveled on a small plane with a newly certified pilot at the controls. At the end of our flight, we were cleared to land. But as we neared the ground, I heard an alarm in the cockpit warn the pilot to “pull up.” The pilot looked to the more experienced copilot, who pointed in a downward direction, away from the runway, and said, “Now!”
Our plane rapidly moved to the left and down, then climbed back to an appropriate altitude, reentered the landing pattern, and arrived safely at our destination. We later learned that another aircraft had been cleared for takeoff. Had we followed the instructions of the alarm, we would have veered into, rather than away from, the oncoming plane. This experience taught me two important lessons: First, at critical moments in our lives, we will hear multiple voices competing for our attention. And second, it is vital that we listen to the right ones.

One of the challenges, as well as a great blessing, of serving a mission is learning how to adjust to new situations. I served in the North German Mission and was still learning the language when I arrived. The first night I was in Germany, right after I dropped my bags off, my wonderful companion said, “Are you ready to go? Let’s go tracting!” I watched him go to two or three doors and talk to people. Then he pushed the doorbell and said, “It’s your turn!”
I’ll never forget the woman who came to the door while I stood there with a Book of Mormon in my hand. All those feelings of anxiety and nervousness that I’d felt when I stood at the pulpit as a child came back again. But because I had worked hard to learn the language and had experience teaching about the First Vision, I knew what I could say. She didn’t accept the Book of Mormon, and she shut the door on me. My companion looked at me and said, “Nice job, Elder Schwitzer. Welcome to Germany.”
Over time, being a missionary became easier as I had the opportunity to meet people and share the gospel. That’s what is amazing about the gospel of Jesus Christ: the more you testify, the more you grow as a missionary. You don’t just go out to serve a mission; you go out to become a missionary, and in the process you become a disciple of Jesus Christ.