Gospel Story Finder

Years ago, as a young missionary, I was assigned to a group of seventeen small islands in the South Pacific. One day a member told me that if I would be at a certain harbor on a particular island at sunset the next day, a family would meet me there and listen to the discussions.
What joy that news brought! I was working alone at the time but quickly found four members who were experienced sailors who agreed to take me to this island.
Early the next morning the five of us started out. A nice breeze moved us swiftly along the coast, through the opening in the reef, and out into the wide expanse of the vast Pacific Ocean.
We made good progress for a few hours, but then the wind began to play out and soon quit, leaving us bobbing aimlessly on a smooth ocean. I suggested that we pray. We pleaded with the Lord three times to send some wind, but still the sails hung limp and listless.
I thought, All that stands between us and the family is a little wind. Why won’t the Lord send it? It’s a righteous desire.
A faithful older brother unlashed the tiny lifeboat and softly said, “Get in. I am going to row you to shore.”
I was dumbfounded. It was miles to shore. The sun was hot, and this man was old. He said, “We have an assignment from the Lord. Before the sun sets this day, you will be teaching the gospel and bearing testimony to a family who wants to listen. Get in the boat.”
We got into the boat; the old man bent his back and began to row. He did not look up, rest, or talk. Hour after hour he rowed and rowed and rowed, fulfilling the calling he had from the Lord—to get a missionary to a family who wanted to hear the gospel. He was the Lord’s wind that day.
Just as the sun dipped into the ocean, the lifeboat touched shore. A family was waiting. I went to their home and taught them the gospel. The family believed and eventually was baptized.
How often do we quit because we pray for wind and none comes? Instead, we need to listen for the Lord’s answer when we pray and then act upon it. On the boat, five men prayed, but only one heard and acted. God gave him the strength to be His wind that day, and He will give us the strength to be His wind when we do what He asks.

I remember going to a conference in the city of Annaberg. There, a sweet, older sister came forward and asked, “Are you an Apostle?”
When I answered, “Yes,” she reached in her purse and brought forth a picture of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. She asked, “Which one are you?”
I looked at the picture. The junior member of the Quorum of the Twelve in that picture was Elder John A. Widtsoe. She had not seen a member of the Twelve for a very long time!
Soon a member mission organization was established, the first high priest ordained, and district councils organized. In Freiberg there was created a stake of Zion and then another stake in Leipzig. Each member of the Church in the German Democratic Republic now belonged to a stake of the Church. One branch president whom I interviewed had served in this capacity for twenty-one years. He was only forty-two years of age. Half his life he had been a branch president, yet he was willing to carry on in any assignment. The members eagerly accepted their calls.
These remarkable events were preceded by a special dedication of the land.
On a Sunday morning, April 27, 1975, I stood on an outcropping of rock situated between the cities of Dresden and Meissen, high above the Elbe River, and offered a prayer on the land and its people. That prayer noted the faith of the members. It emphasized the tender feelings of many hearts filled with an overwhelming desire to obtain temple blessings. A plea for peace was expressed. Divine help was requested. I spoke the words: “Dear Father, let this be the beginning of a new day for the members of Thy Church in this land.”
Suddenly, from far below in the valley, a bell in a church steeple began to chime and the shrill crow of a rooster broke the morning silence, each heralding the commencement of a new day. Though my eyes were closed, I felt a warmth from the sun’s rays reaching my face, my hands, my arms. How could this be? An incessant rain had been falling all morning.
At the conclusion of the prayer, I gazed heavenward. I noted a ray of sunshine which streamed from an opening in the heavy clouds, a ray which engulfed the spot where our small group stood. From that moment I knew divine help was at hand.
The work moved forward. The paramount blessing needed was the privilege of our worthy members to receive their endowments and their sealings.
We explored every possibility. A trip once in a lifetime to the temple in Switzerland? Not approved by the government. Perhaps mother and father could come to Switzerland, leaving the children behind. Not right. How do you seal children to parents when they cannot kneel at an altar? It was a tragic situation. Then, through the fasting and the prayers of many members, and in a most natural manner, government leaders proposed: Rather than having your people go to Switzerland to visit a temple, why don’t you build a temple here in the German Democratic Republic? The proposal was accepted, a choice parcel of property obtained in Freiberg, and ground broken for a beautiful temple of God.
The day of dedication was an historic occasion. President Gordon B. Hinckley offered the dedicatory prayer. Heaven was close that day.
For its size, this temple is one of the busiest temples in the Church. It is the only temple where one makes an appointment to participate in an endowment session. It is the only temple I know of where stake presidents say, “What can we do? Our home teaching is somewhat down because everyone is in the temple!” When I heard that comment, I thought, “Not bad—not bad at all!”
A miracle of miracles had taken place. One more was needed. How can the Church grow without missionaries? How can our numbers increase despite an aging population? Beautiful new buildings grace the land: stake centers at Leipzig and Dresden, and chapels in Freiberg and Zwickau, with others to follow, such as a chapel under construction in the city of Plauen. A faithful brother from Plauen wrote me this poignant letter: “My parents and grandparents have served before us in this branch, but never thus far has it been possible to have our own meetinghouse. Now a long-cherished wish is being fulfilled.” After reading this touching account, the thought crossed my mind, “But what use are buildings if there are not sufficient members to occupy them?”
Such was the dilemma uppermost on my mind as my plane landed in Berlin that October afternoon. We went forward with the vital assignment to visit with the leaders of the German Democratic Republic. Our ultimate goal was to seek permission for the doorway of missionary work to open. Elder Russell M. Nelson, Elder Hans B. Ringger, and I, along with our local German Democratic Republic Church leaders, headed by President Henry Burkhardt, President Frank Apel, and President Manfred Schutze, initially met with State Secretary for Religious Affairs Kurt Löffler as he hosted a lovely luncheon in our honor. He addressed our group by saying, “We want to be helpful to you. We’ve observed you and your people for twenty years. We know you are what you profess to be: honest men and women.”
Government leaders and their wives attended the dedication of a stake center at Dresden and a chapel at Zwickau. As the Saints sang “God be with you till we meet again”—“Auf Wiedersehen, Auf Wiedersehen”—we remembered Him, the Prince of Peace, who died on the cross at Calvary. I contemplated our Lord and Savior, when He walked the path of pain, the trail of tears, even the road of righteousness. His penetrating declaration came to mind: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” (John 14:27.)
Then it was back to Berlin for the crucial meetings with the head of the nation, even Chairman Erich Honecker.
That special morning the sunlight bathed the city of Berlin. It had been raining all night, but now beauty prevailed. We were driven to the chambers of the chief representatives of the government.
Beyond the exquisite entry to the building, we were greeted by Chairman Honecker. We presented to him the statuette First Step, depicting a mother helping her child take its first step toward its father. He was highly pleased with the gift. He then escorted us into his private council room. There, around a large round table, we were seated. Others at the table included Chairman Honecker and his deputies of government.
Chairman Honecker began, “We know members of your Church believe in work; you’ve proven that. We know you believe in the family; you’ve demonstrated that. We know you are good citizens in whatever country you claim as home; we have observed that. The floor is yours. Make your desires known.”
I began, “Chairman Honecker, at the dedication and open house for the temple in Freiberg, 89,890 of your countrymen stood in line, at times up to four hours, frequently in the rain, that they might see a house of God. In the city of Leipzig, at the dedication of the stake center, 12,000 people attended the open house. In the city of Dresden there were 29,000 visitors; in the city of Zwickau, 5,300. And every week of the year 1,500 to 1,800 people visit the temple grounds in the city of Freiberg. They want to know what we believe. We would like to tell them that we believe in honoring and obeying and sustaining the law of the land. We would like to explain our desire to achieve strong family units. These are but two of our beliefs. We cannot answer questions, and we cannot convey our feelings, because we have no missionary representatives here as we do in other countries. The young men and young women whom we would like to have come to your country as missionary representatives would love your nation and your people. More particularly, they would leave an influence with your people which would be ennobling. Then we would like to see young men and young women from your nation who are members of our Church serve as missionary representatives in many nations, such as in America, in Canada, and in a host of others. They will return better prepared to assume positions of responsibility in your land.”
Chairman Honecker then spoke for perhaps thirty minutes, describing his objectives and viewpoints and detailing the progress made by his nation. At length, he smiled and addressed me and the group, saying, “We know you. We trust you. We have had experience with you. Your missionary request is approved.”
My spirit literally soared out of the room. The meeting was concluded. As we left the beautiful government chambers, Elder Russell Nelson turned to me and said, “Notice how the sunshine is penetrating this hall. It’s almost as though our Heavenly Father is saying, ‘I am pleased.’”
The black darkness of night had ended. The bright light of day had dawned. The gospel of Jesus Christ would now be carried to the millions of people in that nation. Their questions concerning the Church will be answered, and the Kingdom of God will go forth.
As I reflect on these events, my thoughts turn to the Master’s words, “In nothing doth man offend God, or against none is his wrath kindled, save those who confess not his hand in all things.” (D&C 59:21.) I confess the hand of God in the miraculous events pertaining to the Church in the German Democratic Republic.
The faith and devotion of our members in that nation have not gone unnoticed by God. The excellent service of other General Authorities, Regional Representatives, and mission presidents has been of inestimable help. The understanding cooperation of government leaders is most appreciated. Assignments have been made to the first ten missionaries from the German Democratic Republic to serve abroad; and just three days ago, on Thursday, March 30, the first full-time missionary representatives in exactly fifty years entered the German Democratic Republic. Their mission president was there to greet them. The long period of preparation is past. The future of the Church unfolds. Thanks be to God.
From the heavens we hear anew the Lord’s declaration:
“Hear, O ye heavens, and give ear, O earth, and rejoice ye inhabitants thereof, for the Lord is God, and beside him there is no Savior.
“Great is his wisdom, marvelous are his ways, and the extent of his doings none can find out.
“His purposes fail not, neither are there any who can stay his hand. …
“For thus saith the Lord—I, the Lord, am merciful and gracious unto those who fear me, and delight to honor those who serve me in righteousness and in truth unto the end.
“Great shall be their reward and eternal shall be their glory.” (D&C 76:1–3, 5–6.)
May this be our universal blessing, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Working with horses also taught me to be patient and to never give up. Progress comes a little at a time. Once I had a colt named Planchet. Someone said, “That horse is weak. He will never be worth anything.” But someone else told me that if I would be patient and exercise my colt’s muscles, he would someday be a good horse. I fed Planchet and took care of him and loved him. For one whole year, I just walked him to strengthen his muscles.
I worked and worked with him. And, sure enough, this weak colt became one of the best horses in Brazil. He won the Brazilian championship in a three-day-long competition.

After a disastrous earthquake in Europe, I visited camps where those displaced by the earthquake lived. I met many families living in tents. They didn’t know who I was or that the Church would bring assistance. But as I met with them, the very first thing they did was put something to eat or drink in my hands with smiles on their faces.

These people had lost everything. I was there to serve them. But they found it in their hearts to serve. This brought me joy and reminded me that one of the best ways to know Jesus Christ in a deep and profound way is to serve Him by serving God’s children.

When I was a boy, at Christmastime my mother put out a picture of the Savior knocking at a door. We weren’t members of the Church yet, and I always asked, “Why is Jesus knocking on the door? Who is on the other side?”
A few years later I discovered there was no handle on the outside of the door the Savior was knocking on. The person on the inside needed to open the door. Now I know who is on the other side of the door. We are! The Savior is knocking, and we all have to open the door and invite Him to come into our lives.

I attended the general Young Women broadcast in 2005 with my three sisters and our mom. Our family is from the Chicago area, and it was the first time we had been inside the Conference Center. I was amazed at how many young women were there together. I was used to watching the broadcast in a dark stake center with a few other young women and leaders.
This time, participating in the meeting, it felt different. When we sang the closing hymn, “As Zion’s Youth in Latter Days” (Hymns, no. 256), I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of young women singing with me. These were young women who had committed to make right choices, hold the same high standards, and continue through life in faith.
The words of the second verse especially struck me. “The truths and values we embrace / Are mocked on ev’ry hand.” Immediately I thought of my high school experience. I saw peers, coaches, and teachers snickering, giggling, and even laughing and making fun of the way I live my life, specifically the choices I made to attend early morning seminary, to behave and dress in a modest way, and not to play soccer on Sundays.
Sometimes I felt like there was no light at the end of the tunnel, as if that stage of my life would continue indefinitely. But I realize Heavenly Father gave me those experiences because He loves me, and that is enough. He knows what is best for me, and though I look back on my high school years with very few fond memories, I know it was when I built my own testimony. I learned to pray about anything and everything and to trust in my Savior. I decided for myself that the Lord and His Church are worth anything I have to sacrifice in order to stand up and be counted as a disciple of Christ.

While most of their southern California peers were out soaking up rays at the beach, the youth of the Glendora California Stake spent their spring break getting dishpan hands, aching muscles, and sore feet from serving at a mission for the homeless in the heart of Los Angeles.
And they wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. “Serving at the mission was the greatest thing we could have ever done for a youth conference,” said Heath Hamilton, 17.
Two three-hour shifts of 12 young people each went to the Los Angeles Mission daily, where they served a noon meal and an evening meal to nearly 600 homeless people. They also sorted clothes and helped prepare for the Easter meals.
In addition, the youth filled more than 150 Easter baskets with toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, and other personal hygiene items. Collection boxes had been placed in each ward building and in several community locations to receive the donated items. Some candy and stuffed animals were included for the children, and the baskets were distributed Sunday afternoon.
On Sunday, the youth committee and leaders traveled the 25 miles from their suburban homes to downtown Los Angeles, in two shifts, so no one would have to miss any meetings. Tables were set up next to the Union Rescue Mission, where breakfast was served in the early morning and a traditional Easter dinner was served in the afternoon. Nearly 2,500 meals were served on each shift.
When the bulk of the serving was complete, the youth were invited to sing. “As I Have Loved You” and “I Am a Child of God” brought tears to everyone involved, and “Because I Have Been Given Much” took on a whole new meaning.
Of course, the youth conference did include the traditional activities like a “Funniest Ward Video” contest, breakfast prepared by the bishops, workshops, games, and a dance. But at the fireside capping the conference, the main topic of the testimonies was the service project and how it had affected their lives.
“I know that you who had a negative attitude going down there definitely changed your attitude about the needy. It was by far the most rewarding youth conference I have ever participated in,” said Lisa Summerhays, 17, youth co-chair of the conference.
Justin Beck, the other youth co-chair said, “I know the people at the mission have problems, but we still need to appreciate them because Heavenly Father loves each of them.”
Becky Patterson, 17, agreed. “One thing I have learned this week is that everybody is equally important. It doesn’t matter who or where you are; Heavenly Father loves you.”
“The bottom line,” said Sister Arnetus Raymond, second counselor in the stake Young Women presidency who worked with the young people to help plan the conference, “is that we learned that to develop love and unity, we have to serve. Service is the key. Our youth learned firsthand the meaning of serving ‘one of the least of these.’”

Hey, Mom, may I go play with Andy?
Yes. But promise you’ll stay out of the creek! It’s not safe after that big storm.
OK. I promise.
Let’s go to the creek!
All right … but I can’t get in the water.
Look how fast the water’s going!
Hey! We could use that as a bridge!
I dare you to go first!
That wouldn’t really be getting into the water …
Whoa! I’m stuck!
Andy, I’m scared! Get help!
Don’t move, Brian! Mr. Bowers is coming for you!
I’m sorry!
I’m so glad you’re all right!
Thank you so much.
You’re welcome. I’m just glad he’s OK.
I’m really sorry I broke my promise.
You could’ve gotten hurt! But I love you, and I’m glad you’re safe.
From now on, I’ll try to keep all my promises!
Promise?
Promise.

I grew up in another religion and believed I was in the right church. My aunt and uncle’s family were Latter-day Saints, but I didn’t really understand their faith and didn’t try to. Then in 1996 my aunt telephoned me and asked if I wanted to go to a youth camp at Brigham Young University. Being only 14, I didn’t want to go but agreed to anyway.
At first I felt out of place because I was different. Then I met up with my cousin, Adam. He was friendly and included me in everything. The week went great.
On Thursday evening, we were in our room when Adam began to ask me about my beliefs.
I was happy to share but could not answer a lot of his questions. I asked him if he knew the answers. He told me about our premortal life and how God has a plan for us. He told me about how the early Church members fell into apostasy and how the gospel was restored through the Prophet Joseph Smith. He told me how the Book of Mormon came forth.
We talked for about two hours. It sounded awesome, but I had my doubts. Adam told me to pray to God and ask Him if the Church was true. So I waited until Adam was asleep and did just that.
The next morning, I woke up feeling peaceful and happy. I felt the Church was true, but I didn’t say anything.
Adam gave me a Book of Mormon, and I went back home to St. Louis, Missouri. I was scared to tell my family and go forward with something so big, and I soon lost the spiritual feeling I had come home with. I put my copy of the Book of Mormon in my closet.
Six years later, after a lot of tough times and losing interest in my religion, I felt the need to find the right church. I visited different churches but never felt that I had found the right one. I just about gave up hope.
One day I was cleaning my closet, and buried deep down was that Book of Mormon. This time I read it. While reading I remembered that night at youth camp and what I had felt. I called my uncle and aunt and asked if I could go to church with them.
There I met the missionaries and began taking the discussions. Four months and four missionaries later, I was baptized.
It has been almost three years since my baptism. I recently returned from serving a mission in the Belgium Brussels/Netherlands Mission, where I followed my cousin Adam’s example and testified of the Restoration of Christ’s true Church and gospel.
How remarkable and powerful are the seeds that people plant in others.

It isn’t fair. It just isn’t fair at all! Raymond thought as he saw his brother, Joey, coming out the back door. Why does he always have to hang around me? He walked quickly around the side of the house, hoping that Joey hadn’t seen him. But Joey followed him and said “Hi, Raymond. Want to play?”
“No,” Raymond answered. “Now go back in the house.” The last thing that Raymond needed was a four-year-old brother tagging along. He turned his back on Joey and walked away.
Joey stood and watched as his big brother walked across the front lawn to the sidewalk. He knew that Raymond was looking for his friends so that they could play baseball. Joey followed him at a distance, a little closer when Raymond crossed the street and knocked on Pete’s door. Pete was Raymond’s best friend. Pete came to the door, and the two older boys set off for the ball diamond at the park. Joey followed along. Pete and Raymond reached the park and met three other friends. As they took their positions on the field, Raymond noticed Joey standing quietly by first base. “Joey, you shouldn’t have followed us! Mom will be worried. Now go home!” he hollered in his maddest, big-brother voice.
Joey stood still. “I can’t go home,” he said quietly. “Mom won’t let me cross the street by myself.”
Raymond knew that he would have to take Joey home. He wanted to stay and play ball with his friends, but he knew how worried his mother would be when she couldn’t find Joey. Grabbing Joey’s hand and pulling him along, he muttered something under his breath.
“What?” said Joey. “I didn’t hear you.”
“I said that you are a horrible little pest. Sometimes I wish that you had never been born!”
As soon as the words were out of Raymond’s mouth, he was sorry. He saw Joey’s soft brown eyes fill with shiny tears. Then he remembered his friends playing ball without him, and he pulled harder on Joey’s arm. “Hurry up!” he scolded. “I don’t want to be stuck with you all day!”
They crossed the street to their house, Raymond pulling and Joey crying.
“There,” Raymond said. “Now, go into the house, like I told you.”
Joey wiped his eyes and went up the walk.
Raymond ran back across the street and down to the park. He took his place in the outfield. At last he was rid of the horrible little pest. But he could still hear his own angry words, “I wish that you had never been born!” His stomach felt funny just remembering them.
The ball came his way. He caught it and threw it back to Pete at home plate. “Easy out!” he yelled.
Pete laughed and tossed the ball up to hit it again. Raymond watched the ball as it made an arc to the other side of the field. In his mind, he heard the words echo, … never been born! “I didn’t really mean it,” Raymond muttered softly. He felt that funny feeling in his stomach again and wondered if Joey knew that he hadn’t meant it.
He continued practicing with his friends, but it wasn’t as much fun as he thought that it would be. He felt more and more uncomfortable. Finally he threw Pete’s mitt to him and yelled, “Gotta go.”
“But we were going to play for another hour or so,” Pete said. “How come you have to go?”
“I just have to go,” Raymond said, and he began running toward home, pausing only to check for cars before he crossed the street. Reaching his house, he hurried to the kitchen, where his mother was getting things out to fix dinner. She looked at him and said, “How was practice?”
“OK, I guess.” He wondered why mothers always looked at you as though they knew what you were thinking. Is it my guilty conscience, or does she know the mean things that I said to Joey this morning? “Where’s Joey?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“In his room, playing, I think.” She sounded as though she didn’t know what had happened, and yet Raymond couldn’t bear to look at her.
He went down the hall to Joey’s room, promising himself that he would play whatever Joey wanted to play. But when he looked into the room, Joey lay curled up on his bed, fast asleep, with his teddy bear in his arms and tearstains on his cheeks.
The things that he had shouted at Joey that morning still echoed in Raymond’s mind as he went to his own room and lay on his bed. He almost wished that he were young enough to have a teddy bear of his own to hug. He wondered what he could do to make things better.
Slipping off the bed and onto his knees, Raymond folded his arms and bowed his head and said, “Heavenly Father, today I said some mean things to Joey. I made him cry. It made me feel bad too. I really didn’t mean what I said. Please help me to know how to make him feel better. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Raymond lay back down on his bed, thinking hard. Finally he knew what he could do. He jumped up, went over to his desk, and searched quickly through the clutter for a pencil and a piece of paper. He drew a picture of a tall boy on one end of the paper. On the other end he drew a picture of a shorter boy. Under the tall boy he wrote Raymond; under the short boy he printed Joey. Each boy was wearing a baseball mitt, and a baseball was in the air between the two boys. When he was finished, he folded the picture and wrote on the outside, “Joey, I love you. Raymond.”
He crept into Joey’s room and laid the note on Joey’s pillow. Then he went back to his own room to wait for Joey to wake up and find the note. Lying there, he whispered a quiet “Thank you” to his Heavenly Father. He felt lighter and happier inside.
In a few minutes Joey walked into his room. “Raymond?” he said in a little voice.
“Hi, pal!” Raymond replied. “I’m sorry I yelled at you before. I didn’t mean what I said. Want to go out in the yard and play catch with me?”
“I thought that you were playing with Pete and the other guys.”
“Well, I was,” said Raymond, “but right now, I want to play ball with my favorite little brother.”

I was disappointed not to be able to pick more of the fruit before the season ended, but school was about to begin again and with it, early-morning seminary. On the first morning of seminary, our teacher welcomed us to the class and went through the requirements for completing the course. I listened with enthusiasm. Knowing that we were required to read the Book of Mormon as part of the course, I had read it all during the summer break.
Following the class, I explained to my teacher that I had already fulfilled the requirement to read the Book of Mormon. My teacher insisted that I would need to read it again. But, I thought, “I don’t need to read it again!”
Disappointed, but obedient, I began to read the Book of Mormon a second time. And in reading, I discovered “fruit” I had somehow missed before.
It seemed that the Book of Mormon had more verses since I had last read it, and inspiring new scriptures stood out from the pages. Even characters I did not remember appeared. It was like picking blackberries. Wherever I looked, more fruit seemed to appear.
I realized that if I followed the commandment to “press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ” (2 Ne. 31:20), I would need to read the Book of Mormon over and over throughout my life. But unlike blackberry season, the season for picking this fruit will not come to an end.

Some time ago, Sister Haycock and I accompanied President and Sister Kimball, President and Sister Tanner, and others on a visit to the Holy Land for the dedication of the Orson Hyde Memorial Gardens. While there, we visited a number of places held sacred in the memory of Christians, and particularly Latter-day Saints, because we were walking where Jesus walked.
We visited the Garden Tomb, and after sitting with President and Sister Kimball inside the tomb, we came out into the sunshine and beauty of the garden. The cameramen who recorded the trip were anxious to get pictures of President Kimball walking in the garden, but I was concerned because the path was paved with flagstones, making it rough and uneven underfoot. I cautioned President Kimball to be careful and not fall. He responded quietly and with dignity: “Don’t worry, Arthur. I am used to walking on holy ground.”
We then visited the Garden of Gethsemane. We saw the small but beautiful garden with its ancient olive trees that many believe were there when Christ knelt and prayed to his Father just before his betrayal. Again a film crew wanted to record the event for history. Our Israeli guides went to the priests in charge and asked permission for President Kimball’s party to enter the part of the garden that was fenced off. Permission to enter for five minutes would be given, the priests said, upon the payment of 5,000 Israeli pounds per person. For President and Sister Kimball and one photographer, that would be 15,000 pounds, or 450 U.S. dollars, for 5 minutes. The Israeli guides shook their heads, and one of them said, “No, this is a holy man. He came here to worship, not to pay tribute.”
In addition to all his many other virtues, President Kimball has a wonderful sense of humor. While traveling in Europe a couple of years ago, it became necessary to stay over for a full week before going to Poland to finalize arrangements for official recognition of the Church in that land. I thought perhaps we could use the time to climb the Matterhorn, visit the fjords of Norway, or explore beautiful England by taking a boat trip on the Thames River, but instead, President Kimball said he wanted to visit the missions in Italy, Austria, and Germany. He left it up to one of the members of the Quorum of the Twelve and myself to arrange the itinerary. We arranged special meetings each night in a different city or country.
As soon as we arrived in the first mission, President Kimball asked when the missionary meeting was to be held. I told him that we hadn’t planned any missionary meetings because all of the missionaries would be attending the general meeting that night. He said he still wanted a special missionary meeting. I told him the reason we didn’t plan a separate meeting with the missionaries was because of the time and energy required. He replied, “I know what you are trying to do. You are trying to save me, but I don’t want to be saved. I just want to be exalted!” I then went to the phone and arranged meetings all over Europe for the balance of our trip.
One day recently, about noon, I was urging President Kimball to have some lunch and then take a nap. He resisted, and I indicated that if he didn’t do as I suggested, Sister Kimball might scold me. He looked up at me and with a chuckle and a sly grin said, “Well I’d rather have her scold you than me!”
One evening President Kimball stayed late at the office, and so I continued working at my desk. It turned out that he was going to a dinner at the Lion House at 6:30 and was waiting for Sister Kimball to come and meet him so they could go to the dinner together. About 5:30, he urged me to go home, but I told him that I would stay as long as he did. He insisted, so I said, “I am torn between doing my duty to stay close to you and doing what you ask me to do.” He looked up at me with a twinkle in his eye and said, “They both ought to be the same, hadn’t they?”
I was with President Kimball when I saw the mantle of presidency fall upon him the day after Christmas 1973. I had taken President Harold B. Lee to the hospital in Salt Lake the afternoon of December 26 because he was tired and the doctor thought he ought to get a rest and have a checkup. His family had gone home for a brief period, and I was alone with him in the room when he began to have difficulties. Within seconds I called a nurse and then a doctor, and immediately the alarm was sounded—“cardiac arrest.”
A team of doctors and nurses with sophisticated equipment began an heroic hour-long struggle in an effort to save his life. As I watched, I became convinced that unless the Lord did indeed work a miracle, President Lee could not live. I at once called President Romney and then reached President Tanner in Phoenix and got in touch with President Lee’s wife and family. Again convinced that unless the Lord took a hand there would be a change in the leadership of the Church, I felt that the next President of the Church should be present.
I immediately went to the phone and called President Kimball, and when he heard my voice, he responded in his usual cheerful manner, “Well, Arthur, how are you tonight?” I said, “Not very well. I am at the hospital with President Lee, and he is very ill. I think you should come at once.” He said, “I’ll be right there,” and I hung up. As I did so, I was conscious of the fact that I had not even told President Kimball which hospital we were at. Nevertheless, he was the first to arrive. Then President Romney came, and then President Lee’s wife and family.
It was on this sad occasion that I learned a great and fundamental lesson in priesthood and Church government. As you know, President Romney was a member of the First Presidency, while President Kimball was the President of the Quorum of the Twelve. As soon as President Romney arrived, President Kimball turned to him and said, “President Romney, what would you like me to do?” At the moment there seemed little that any of us could do, except pray and wait. A short time later, the doctor came and gave us the awful news that President Lee was dead. Quietly, President Romney, knowing that the First Presidency was now dissolved at that precise moment and that the mantle had fallen upon President Kimball, turned to him and said, “President Kimball, what would you like me to do?”
In a recent conference President Kimball said: “We believe that we have in this Church the answers to all questions, for the Lord is the head of the Church, and He has given us the program. Our message is what it has always been, and our hope is that our people will live the commandments of the Lord. They have been revealed in the holy scriptures and by living prophets throughout many years.”
No, President Kimball is not an ordinary man. He is a Prophet of the Lord.

My locker slammed shut as I turned and hurried up the stairs so I wouldn’t be late for my seventh-grade science class. I was supposed to have something in mind for a science project. I thought a papier-mache volcano would be great, but I knew that instead Mom would probably help me figure out a project to demonstrate capillary action with a stalk of celery and some red food coloring in water.
Just as the bell rang, I sat down in my assigned seat at the back of the classroom. I was beginning to hate being assigned seats alphabetically because I always ended up in the rear of the room.
I hardly had time to say anything to Julie Westergaard, one of the few students who sat further back than I did; when my science teacher started talking. He was obviously upset by something, and we were going to hear about it. He started the day’s lesson, not on science, but about the fact that the United States was facing a major military crisis. The Soviet Union was sending ships loaded with missiles to Cuba. Our president had set up a blockade to stop them. “It could mean war,” my teacher said, pounding the desk for emphasis. “The world as it is right now could end in half an hour. Do you all realize what a nuclear war would be like? It would be the end of the world.”
I was riveted to my chair. The sound of my teacher’s voice seemed very far away, and the loudest noise was my blood pounding in my ears. I was terrified, but I held the terror and panic I felt inside. The rest of the day was a blur.
I walked home from school that day with my science teacher’s words replaying in my mind. “The world could end in half an hour. The world could end in half an hour.”
I didn’t mention my concerns to my parents. I was a grown-up twelve-year-old and was trying to show my independence by not confiding every fear to my mother.
After dinner, I sat down at my desk in my bedroom to do my homework. I wasn’t usually so prompt about getting to my homework first thing in the evening, but nothing else seemed to distract my mind from the worry over the threat of world war. After a while, I was tired of homework and I began to putter with other things I found lying around. As I was sorting through a stack of paper, I picked up a bookmark that had been given to me as I had entered the young women’s organization earlier that year. On the back was a suggested reading list for the year. I had never noticed the list before, but since I was trying to postpone getting back to my school books, I decided I would start reading a little of the first thing on the list—the book of Matthew as translated by Joseph Smith, located in the last few pages of the Pearl of Great Price.
Soon tears blurred my vision and a feeling of warm calm enveloped me as I read the twenty-third verse: “And you also shall hear of wars and rumors of wars; see that ye be not troubled, for all I have told you must come to pass; but the end is not yet.” (JS—M 1:23.)
I read on about the last days and the signs of the times before Christ would come again. But the fear and panic I had felt that day in science class were gone. I knew that our Heavenly Father was aware of us and that world events were proceeding as had been prophesied. I had no need to fear.
Since that night alone in my bedroom with the Pearl of Great Price open on the desk, I have kept that calm feeling as events that seem so threatening unfold. I do not accept the violence of the world and yearn with most of mankind for peace, but I am well aware of the prophecies in the scriptures and have a promise that I should not be troubled.

Maxine Grimm stands out in my mind as an honored pioneer. I met her in the Philippines in 1964, when there was only one branch of the Church and fewer than one hundred members. With her husband, Peter Grimm (we called him “Grimm-pa”), this remarkable woman helped unfurl the flag of truth in that beautiful island nation.

Sister Grimm had been a Red Cross volunteer during World War II and had remained in the Philippines after the war to help the new Church members there. I clearly remember her arriving at our small place at 7-D Kamias Road to help us begin the first Relief Society in Quezon City. She would always bring copies of the Relief Society Magazine for the sisters to borrow, as well as her portable pump organ so we could sing the hymns together—all six of us.

Many beautiful faces among those first few Latter-day Saints in the Philippines will be etched in my memory forever. One of many that could represent them all is the face of Salud Dizon Jimenez, the first convert to be baptized in Quezon City. She later became the Relief Society president when a branch was organized in that huge city near the Philippine capital of Manila. Sister Jimenez and many like her would often travel for hours on jeepneys and buses to Taft Avenue in Pasay, where we held all our Church meetings. Others followed in the footsteps of those great pioneers, and today the Philippines is blessed by nearly 300,000 members in forty-seven stakes. A temple graces the city of Manila.

I see in my mind another pioneer woman who helped the families in a Monclova, Mexico, branch make their homes learning centers. I met her on a Sunday in September 1975. Adelita happily showed me the things she had done in her own home to motivate her children to study, then told of things she was doing to help the other sisters in the branch teach their children better study habits. Adelita herself was illiterate, yet she placed great value on education. Humble and gracious, she desired only to serve.

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

The beautiful face of Sister Pai on the Altiplano in Bolivia fills my memory with a warm glow. I visited her and her family in January 1975. They had been members of the Church for only three months, but in that time they had learned that President Spencer W. Kimball had encouraged Church members to have gardens. I was thrilled to see their two small vegetable gardens and a flower garden. Each night they covered their three gardens with plastic sheets to protect their treasures from freezing.

I shall never forget their family home evening, held in the warmest spot in the home—on their bed. Of that experience I wrote in my journal: “The rain and the cold, the walk and the mud were all well worth it. I would have walked one hundred miles to visit with this family and have the privilege of feeling their spirit and their enthusiasm in being members of the Church and learning principles which help them to be healthier and happier.” Blessed, honored pioneers.

I think of the woman I met in the Dominican Republic right after Christmas in 1983. Some missionaries and I were sitting in her San Francisco home as she told us of the dramatic changes Church membership had brought into her life. I was impressed with her courage in blazing trails through habits and traditions she felt needed to be changed. My faith was strengthened as this great pioneer soul spoke of her deepest feelings about Jesus Christ and her joy in discovering the gospel.

I cried as I had to leave. We had been together for only a short while, yet I felt as if I had known her forever. As my companions and I walked down the street, I kept looking back to wave. She was still waving back as we turned a corner and lost sight of her radiant face.

Many of the pioneer faces in my mind are the faces of friends in Nigeria, West Africa. When I first arrived there in January 1984, I met Cecilia and learned of her creative pioneering in what seemed to me the overwhelming task of day-to-day living. I said, “You are my teacher.”

She responded, “I will be your teacher.”

I told her that I didn’t know if I could learn very fast, because she had so much to teach me. She smiled gently and said, “I will teach slowly.”

And she did. I lived as Cecilia’s neighbor for several months, and I will be grateful all my life for the things she helped me learn. I am a better pioneer because of this great soul and others in our neighborhood who allowed me to follow in their footsteps for a little while.

One of the most important lessons I learned in Africa was to examine my priorities and values. In one of our Relief Society lessons there, the manual recommended that children should be helped to keep their drawers clean and neat. One of the sisters asked, “What is a drawer?”

So many great Latter-day Saints, honored pioneers, will be exalted without ever having seen a drawer, owned a new dress, used a time planner, or gazed into a mirror. They will rejoice in the celestial kingdom having never walked through Temple Square or visited Relief Society headquarters in Salt Lake City.

It still amuses me that my companion, Ann, and I were sent to teach Cecilia and others about self-reliance. While I hope we were able to share some information about health and sanitation that made a difference for them, I know that I personally learned the greatest lessons. Most of those lessons I learned from them had to do with self-reliance. I’m convinced that Cecilia and her sisters can handle any emergency. Forging onward, ever onward, they are indeed blessed, honored pioneers.

I first met Sally Pilobello in the Philippines in 1972 when I was sent there as a health missionary. I learned that she and her husband had lost their first baby when the baby was five months old. Sally had other children, but she now was pregnant with another and asked me, “What can I do to have a healthy Mormon baby?” I thought of her courage and faith as she responded to truth and adopted some new habits and traditions. Soon people in the neighborhood were sharing the news: “Mormon baby is coming!”

On 20 January 1973, Sarah Pilobello was born—a healthy, beautiful “Mormon baby.” Her mother’s pioneer spirit had enabled her to do things she had not done before—to add more truth to what she already knew. Sally used to smile at me and say, “Sister, you can never teach an old dog new tricks.” Then she’d pause and add: “But Sister, I am not a dog!”

In 1984 I received a letter from eleven-year-old Sarah—“Little Melon” to her family and friends: “I’m sorry that I have not written for a long time because every time I’m going to start my letter my playmates are insisting me to play with them. Now I firmly decided to write to you. We are glad that Mommy is doing what the family preparedness program of the welfare missionaries taught them. We now purify our water and have a balanced diet. That is why we grow faster than the other children. The temple is now being made and I hope I’ll see you there. I love you. Little Melon.”

I also received a letter from her mother, my dear friend Sally: “I want to express my gratitude for the things I have learned which are making such a difference in my family. I realize now that some of the things my mother taught me—things her mother taught her—were not correct. But the truths I’m learning will now be taught to my children, and to their children, and to the generations to come. We will not be damned any longer by ignorance. ‘Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free!’ As they say, it is never too late to learn and change. God must love us dearly to allow us to have so much truth.”

When I first arrived in Indonesia in 1976 I met a group of pioneers in central Java who helped me understand much, much more about the meaning of words such as relief, compassion, and service. These Relief Society sisters, led by their president, Ibu Subowo, were giant souls in small bodies. Every morning before they began their cooking, each sister would hold back a spoonful of rice. They kept the rice in plastic bags that they brought to Relief Society each week. After the meeting, they would gather and prayerfully consider who needed a visit. All would then go together to visit those in need, taking the bags of rice with them to share with those who had less than they did.

Consecration. The Lord’s storehouse. A society of interdependent Saints. I learned much about sacrifice, wondering what my equivalent of a spoonful of rice would be.

I’ve thought a lot about Enos’s comment toward the end of his short narrative in the Book of Mormon. He felt sure that he would someday meet the Lord and “see his face with pleasure” (Enos 1:27). There are many faces on this earth that I hope someday to see with pleasure again. Among them are those of the women who have taught me much about pioneering—about having service as a watchword and love as a guiding star.

We’re all pioneers. Across the years, and across the miles, we blaze our trails through our personal wild frontiers. In a wide variety of circumstances, we cross our plains, sing our songs, bury our dead, deal with our personal sorrows, bear one another’s burdens, visit, comfort, and show compassion. Blessed, honored pioneers!

For a long period after I converted to the gospel, I didn’t have a clear answer to the question “Why am I given trials?” I understood the part of the plan of salvation that says we will be tested. However, in reality, when it came to this question, I did not have a conviction that was powerful enough to adequately answer it. But there came a time in my life when I too experienced a major trial.
When I was 30 years old, I was visiting the Nagoya mission as part of my work. After the meeting, the mission president kindly arranged for the elders to drive me to the airport. However, as we reached the intersection at the bottom of a long hill, a large truck came barreling down from behind us at great speed. It rammed into the rear of our car and propelled it forward more than 70 feet (20 m). The terrifying part of all of this was there was no driver. The rear of our car was compacted to half its original size. Fortunately, both the elders and I survived.
However, on the following day, I began experiencing pain in my neck and shoulders and developed a severe headache. From that day, I couldn’t sleep and I was forced to live each day with both physical and mental pain. I prayed to God to please heal my pain, but these symptoms lingered on for about 10 years.
At this time, feelings of doubt also began creeping into my mind, and I wondered, “Why do I have to suffer this much pain?” However, even though the kind of healing I sought was not granted, I strove to be faithful in keeping God’s commandments. I continued to pray that I would be able to resolve the questions I had about my trials.
There came a time when I found myself struggling with a few additional personal issues, and I was agitated because I did not know how to cope with this new trial. I was praying for an answer. But I didn’t receive an answer right away. So I went and talked with a trusted Church leader.
As we were talking, with love in his voice, he said, “Brother Aoyagi, isn’t your purpose for being on this earth to experience this trial? Isn’t it to accept all the trials of this life for what they are and then leave the rest up to the Lord? Don’t you think that this problem will be resolved when we are resurrected?”
When I heard these words, I felt the Spirit of the Lord very strongly. I had heard this doctrine countless times, but the eyes of my understanding had never been opened to the extent they were at this time. I understood this was the answer that I had been seeking from the Lord in my prayers. I was able to clearly comprehend our Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation and understand anew this important principle.
Let’s now consider that rear-end collision in Nagoya. I could have died in that accident. Nevertheless, through the Lord’s grace, I miraculously survived. And I know that my sufferings were for my learning and for my growth. Heavenly Father schooled me to temper my impatience, to develop empathy, and to comfort those who are suffering. When I realized this, my heart was filled with feelings of thankfulness toward my Heavenly Father for this trial.

My friend Annika had been hanging out with me and my other Latter-day Saint friends for a few years. Because she spent so much time with us, she learned many things about our standards and what we believe in.
One night I was texting Annika about the gospel and decided it was the perfect opportunity to share my testimony with her. I also felt like I should invite her to come to church. I was a little nervous that she would say no, but I knew that I was doing the right thing and that it would be OK no matter what. I texted her my testimony and asked her to come to church, and she said yes!
The Sunday that Annika came to church, we were studying about the Godhead. She already knew most of the other youth in the class, so we all worked together to help her learn. If she didn’t understand something, we tried to explain it to her. This led to great discussions where most everyone was commenting. Because so many people were sharing ideas, Annika felt comfortable asking questions and got to hear pieces of her friends’ testimonies.
During the lesson, Annika was overwhelmed with joy and peace because she felt the Holy Ghost. She learned that Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost are three separate beings, and she learned a little bit about the plan of salvation. She also learned that Heavenly Father loves us so much that He sent His Son to earth to die for us, and she learned how much Christ loves us, because He atoned for us.
At the end of the lesson, my Sunday School teacher invited us to go home and look up scriptures that could help us learn more about the Godhead. I completed this assignment. Later, during a discussion with Annika and the missionaries, I talked about the scriptures I found.
It was a wonderful experience to watch Annika learn about Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost. It made me realize how many people don’t know about the Godhead. Just like Annika and I did, we can all grow closer to Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost when we learn more about Them.

And I have seen it in young fathers trying to provide for their families. In that regard I once terrifyingly saw it in myself. At one point in our married life when financial fears collided with staggering fatigue, I took a psychic blow that was as unanticipated as it was real. With the grace of God and the love of my family, I kept functioning and kept working, but even after all these years I continue to feel a deep sympathy for others more chronically or more deeply afflicted with such gloom than I was. In any case we have all taken courage from those who, in the words of the Prophet Joseph, “search[ed] … and contemplate[d] the darkest abyss”3 and persevered through it—not the least of whom were Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill, and Elder George Albert Smith, the latter being one of the most gentle and Christlike men of our dispensation, who battled recurring depression for some years before later becoming the universally beloved eighth prophet and President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Back in August 2021, I was working in a high-profile role at an airport, when people from Afghanistan were having to leave their home country to make the UK their new home. The UK took in about 15,000 people.
I got talking to one young man and his father; they had been through some terrible times—too much to put into print. The Spirit guided me to talk and make friends with this total stranger, who I could see and feel had a good heart.
When departing from each other, after the necessary business had been sorted at the airport, he asked me if we could keep in touch through WhatsApp and we did. I kept in regular contact, asking how he was progressing with life in the UK; all was going well for him.
Every time I messaged him, I had an overwhelmingly strong feeling that kept pushing me to ask him a question. So, on one day, I asked, “Are you religious at all; are you Muslim or Christian?” He then replied that he turned to Christianity three years ago! I was buzzing, feeling very comfortable in then asking, “Have you heard of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?” I then sent him a link to the Church’s website. He said he hadn’t heard of it but would look at the link. I gave him a brief history of the Church and by the end I had tears rolling down my face, as I knew this message was sent through the Spirit. After I had sent a few other links to gospel stories, I asked him if he would be interested in learning more about the Church. He replied yes; he was excited to learn more.
I sent a copy of the Book of Mormon with my typed testimony to the hotel where his family were staying in Crawley. I contacted the local bishop and their missionaries, who then arranged to meet him. While that was happening, I got hold of a copy of the Book of Mormon in Farsi (from our missionary elders here in Doncaster).
My friend subsequently accepted the call to be baptised on 13 February. I was there to surprise him.
All this was done through social media, from WhatsApp to Facebook. Under the guidance of the Spirit this modern technology can be used for good, to share and spread the words of our prophets, old and new, and messages from the Apostles of love and charity. I love what we have, especially the Spirit of Christ in our hearts and homes.

After my baptism, I had a lot of victimization in my neighborhood and family. There were false testimonies and all sorts of mockeries, but I endured. Two weeks after my baptism, I left for north Togo to continue my studies. Though the Church wasn’t there, nothing could prevent me from obeying the principles and reading the Book of Mormon every day. The missionaries called often to find out how I was doing, and that comforted me. After completing school, I decided to stay in Lomé to be closer to Church members and pursue a university degree in civil engineering. After a couple of years, I deferred my studies to serve a full-time mission. On June 23, 2016, I was called to serve in a newly created mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Mbuji-Mayi. Today I am a missionary and, in a few months, I will finish my mission with honor. I have learned a lot from the Church and by the daily reading of the Book of Mormon, which is the keystone of our religion. Although weak, I have been shaped by the Lord to bring souls to Him, and I rejoice in this privilege that He has granted me to fulfill this sacred duty of the priesthood. Criticisms from our neighbors and family should not make us leave the Church. I know that Jesus Christ lives, that He has reestablished His Church through the Prophet Joseph Smith, and that this Church has the same organization as that of the primitive Church. We are created in the image of our Heavenly Father, and I share this in the precious name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Two years later one of my brother’s friends invited my sister to go to the LDS Church, and I went along with her. I was excited to finally find out what they were doing inside that church.
When we got there, we saw some members playing a simple game. They looked so happy, and that got my attention. “Why are they so happy?” I wondered.
I found out when I took the missionary discussions and was baptized. Happiness comes from inside. My conversion changed my life, the life of my children, and generations ahead and behind.