Gospel Story Finder

Last summer a group of young women from Alpine, Utah, decided that they would become “more fit for the kingdom.” They determined to focus on the temple by walking from the Draper Utah Temple to the Salt Lake Temple, a total distance of 22 miles (35 km), just as one of the pioneers, John Rowe Moyle, had done. Brother Moyle was a stonemason who was called by the prophet, Brigham Young, to work on the Salt Lake Temple. Each week he walked the distance of 22 miles from his home to the temple. One of his jobs was to carve the words “Holiness to the Lord” on the east side of the Salt Lake Temple. It was not easy and he had many obstacles to overcome. At one point, he was kicked in the leg by one of his cows. Because it would not heal, he had to have this leg amputated. But that did not stop him from his commitment to the prophet and to work on the temple. He carved a wooden leg, and after many weeks he again walked the 22-mile distance to the temple to do the work he had committed to do.

by Debbie Jones
“Yes, it is a gold wedding band.” As the young men and women of my ward gathered around to admire the band, all sorts of questions arose. “Whose could it be? Where did you find it? I wonder how long it has been buried in the flower garden?”
While my friends had been mowing, power raking, and shoveling in the widow’s yard, I had been weeding her flowerbed. Sister Kelly and I were digging out a big clump of grass and shaking the dirt off the roots when the precious ring fell out.
It’s always fun to find buried treasure, but that one unanswered question still remained: To whom did the ring belong? I thought how sorry the owner must have felt when he lost it and how much it would mean to him if he could get it back.
That night as I said my prayers, I asked the Lord to help me find the rightful owner. I knew I would need His help because the house had been rented to many couples over the years.
You can imagine my surprise when just two days later, the doorbell rang and at the door stood Brother Huff, asking me if I had his wedding band. He explained that he and his wife were spending some time in Salt Lake City. They were waiting in a restaurant for breakfast when their good friends, Brother and Sister Thatcher, walked by. They invited the couple to join them. In conversation, Sister Thatcher, my Young Women leader, mentioned the ring we had found. How excited they all were when Brother and Sister Huff discovered that the ring was found at the house where they lived 14 years ago! He had lost his wedding ring while raking leaves.
Brother Huff had since purchased another band, but he was thrilled to find his original wedding ring again. He offered me 20 dollars in appreciation, but I refused. I knew it was the Lord who really deserved the thanks. And besides, I was as happy as he was.
A short time later, the doorbell rang again, and there stood the florist with a beautiful arrangement of flowers. I opened the card and read the words, “Thanks again. Brother Huff.” The next day I took the bouquet to church to share with the Payson Utah Third Ward and all who were involved in that service project.
From this experience I received much more than flowers. I now have a stronger testimony of church service and prayer. Don’t miss your next project, because you never know what service surprises await you!

Nine times seven is sixty-three. Six times eight is … forty-two? No, that’s not right!
Luca furiously erased his answer.
“Time!” Luca’s teacher called. “Everyone pass in your tests.”
Oh no! Luca thought. But I’m not even done!
Luca sighed as he handed in his test. He had to get a 90 percent on his timed tests to pass his multiplication tables and become a class Multiplication Master. But he just didn’t know how he was going to do it!
That night during family scripture study, Dad read from the Doctrine and Covenants: “Therefore, if you will ask of me you shall receive; if you will knock it shall be opened unto you” (D&C 6:5).
Luca’s head popped up. That was the answer! Prayer!
Luca started praying every day to do well on his timed multiplication test. This would work. It had to work. He would finally become a Multiplication Master!
On Tuesday, Luca came home from school and grabbed his basketball.
“Do you need help studying?” Mom asked.
“Nope! I’ve got it taken care of!” Luca said as he ran out the door. He believed so much in prayer that he didn’t even take out his flash cards to practice his math.
On Friday, Luca knew he was going to pass the test. But when he sat down to take it, the answers just didn’t come, and he did even worse than before!
Luca walked home from the bus stop with his head down. He had prayed so hard to be a Multiplication Master. Why didn’t Heavenly Father answer his prayer?
When he got home, he shot baskets until Dad came home from work. Dad honked the car horn as he pulled up.
“How was school?” Dad asked, walking over.
“Not very good,” Luca said, looking down. “I can’t pass my multiplication test.”
“That sounds pretty discouraging,” said Dad. He held up his hands for a pass.
“I should have passed!” Luca said. “I prayed and everything. Dad, you said that Heavenly Father answers prayers. He definitely didn’t answer mine today!”
“Did you practice with your flash cards?” Dad asked.
“No.”
“Did you study?”
“No,” said Luca. “But I prayed all week!”
Dad dribbled the ball and looked at Luca. “Well, multiplication is kind of like basketball. How did you get so good at basketball?”
“I practiced,” said Luca.
“Yes, and so when we pray for Heavenly Father to help you before your games, we’re not praying for Him to magically make you a better basketball player. What do we pray for?”
“For me to remember what I practiced,” Luca said.
“Right. Prayer works best when we do our part and also ask Heavenly Father to help us.”
“So my part is studying my flash cards?” Luca asked.
“Exactly,” said Dad, passing the ball back to Luca.
Luca heaved a big sigh and took a shot. The ball bounced off the rim. “So … I should study hard and ask Heavenly Father to help me.”
“There you go!” said Dad. “Now, are you ready for a little one-on-one?”
Luca grinned and stole the ball from Dad. “Sure! As long as you help me study at the same time.”
“You’re on,” said Dad. “Six times five is?”
“Thirty!” Luca took another shot. This time it swished through the hoop.
Between practice and prayer, maybe he would become a Multiplication Master after all.

On the week that Elder Perry passed away, he attended our meeting on Tuesday. On Tuesday night, as recorded by his son, Lee, he had a spiritual experience that let him know his time was soon.1

With Elder Russell M. Nelson on assignment in eastern Europe, Elder Perry, on Wednesday morning, called Elder Oaks and Elder Ballard to his apartment. He told them his time was short and that he would not be coming back into the office. He recorded a six-minute message for the Quorum of the Twelve, telling us he loved us, encouraging us in the work ahead, and bearing his sure witness of the Savior. We were sobered as that recording was played for us Thursday morning in the temple.

The First Presidency went Thursday afternoon to say their good-byes to their dear friend. Elder Nelson called Elder Perry from Bulgaria Thursday evening. On Friday morning President Packer rose from his feeble ­condition and traveled to Elder Perry’s apartment to say good-bye. They reflected on their many years together. President Packer reminded him that Elder Perry had always said that he wanted to go through the veil at least one day before President Packer. They rejoiced that they would soon see each other on the other side.

On Friday afternoon, just after 4:00 p.m., Kathy and I had the chance to visit with Elder and Sister Perry. Elder Perry was sitting in a comfortable chair, weak but conversant. He asked us, as he did all the members of the Twelve, to watch over and care for his dear Barbara. He expressed his love for us and we expressed our love for him. I told him that in a few years, as I followed him out of this earthly experience, I hoped he would be there to greet me. He promised that, if given permission, he would. He told us he would do all that he could to bless our work from the other side of the veil.

Less than twenty-four hours later he stepped through the veil. Thirty-four days later President Packer followed him. I, with you, revere these two disciples of Christ. I confirm to you that they were honest men, holy men—devoted to the callings that they had received and full of the pure love of Christ. I testify that we will yet see them again.

We had gone up the canyon to study, but the mountain air and warm sunshine made it too relaxing to concentrate. So I just lay there in a kind of sleepy intoxication while Sarah continued her story. I rolled over to let the sun warm my face when I noticed two young boys climbing the mountain beside us—a trek that was pretty rough going. As the boys pulled themselves up by grasping branches and roots as anchors, rocks and earth under them slid down into the water. Sometimes the roots they grabbed pulled right out of the dirt, and they would slide down the face until they found something to grab onto. The small avalanche they created continued without them into the water below.
Sarah had finished talking, and I looked over and saw the boys had finally made it to the top of the mountain. Self-satisfied, they happily scanned the world from their new vantage point and never noticed the scars they had left on the fragile mountainside.

Bloomington, Indiana—Few young Latter-day Saints have ever lived behind the Iron Curtain as has twenty-three-year-old Cenek Vrba, who presently studies violin and music performance at the famed University of Indiana School of Music. Already, Cenek is one of the great young violinists of our time.
What was it like living in Czechoslovakia?
“Most people in Canada and the United States to whom I have talked cannot even imagine what kind of life our family had in Czechoslovakia before escaping in 1968. People outside of Communism don’t even realize the value of their fantastic freedom to do as they wish. Freedom—that is the difference.
“My father was branch president and we had a good Mormon home. But in school we were taught that there is no God. We were taught to hate the ‘class enemy,’ or the owners of small shops and businesses. The USSR was held up as the shining example in everything. In school we were shown movies of how Russia won World War II and how they had given the Czech people their freedom and therefore had the right to occupy the country after the war.
“But at home I was taught love and the gospel and about God. We did not doubt God, even though we could not talk to others about the Church. We could not even tell them of our sacrament meetings. Once we told a trusted friend about our meetings and he informed the secret police. They stopped our meetings and interrogated my father. Although my father has three doctorates, he was released from teaching in the university because, he was told, his Mormon ideas would corrupt the students. He was offered wealth and position if he would join the Communist Party.
“When I was six years old our family had to begin to prepare for my baptism two years later. Since it would have been impossible for me to be baptized in a river or a lake, Father built a font in our garden. He worked on it for over two years so that no suspicions would be aroused. When the secret police asked him why he built it, he said it was to keep the children cool. When I was eight, Father baptized me in our 4? x 4? font in the middle of the night.
“Freedom is the difference between my life in Czechoslovakia and my life in Canada and the United States. Here I have freedom. I didn’t resent studying Marxism and learning about it, but it was terrible to live in it. It takes some principles that are close to the gospel and twists them into force and great unhappiness.”
And about music?
“Music to me is something almost spiritual, even though it can be material—I practice five hours a day and study much. Music lifts people’s spirits. My goal is to be a concert violinist. I look forward to being known as a Mormon. My life as a concert violinist and all the traveling will present challenges when I marry and children come, but I will stay close to the Church and build a good home. I love the Church and know from experience that God answers our prayers. To me, Jesus Christ and his gospel are wonderful.”
Cenek is close to attaining his professional goal. He was concert-master of a symphony orchestra in Czechoslovakia and won first place in the Czech Beethoven National Violin Competition. After his family moved to Calgary, Alberta, Canada, he won the Calgary Music Festival’s top award; the $1,000 grand festival award at the Spokane, Washington, Music Festival; and the top two $500 prizes in Alberta, Canada, music competition.

During a stake conference assignment a few years ago while serving in South America, I met a couple that was grieving the recent death of their infant son.
It was in an interview during the course of the conference that I first met with Brother Tumiri and learned of his loss. As we spoke, he shared that not only was he deeply saddened by the death of his son, but he was also devastated at the thought of never seeing him again. He explained that as relatively new members of the Church, they had saved enough money to attend the temple just one time, prior to the birth of their little boy, where they had been sealed as a couple and had their two daughters sealed to them. He then described how they had been saving money for a return trip to the temple but hadn’t yet been able to take their little boy in order to be sealed to him as well.
Recognizing a possible misunderstanding, I explained that he would indeed see his son again, if he remained faithful, because the sealing ordinance that had bound him to his wife and daughters was also sufficient to bind him to his son, who had been born in the covenant.
Amazed, he asked if this was really true, and when I confirmed that it was, he then asked if I would be willing to speak with his wife, who had been inconsolable during the two weeks since their son’s death.
Sunday afternoon, following the conference, I met with Sister Tumiri and explained this glorious doctrine to her as well. With the pain of her loss still fresh, but now with a glimmer of hope, she tearfully asked, “Will I really be able to hold my little boy in my arms again? Is he really mine forever?” I assured her that as she kept her covenants, the sealing power found in the temple, effective because of the authority of Jesus Christ, would indeed allow her to be with her son again and hold him in her arms.
Sister Tumiri, though heartbroken by the death of her son, left our meeting with tears of gratitude and filled with peace because of the sacred ordinances of the temple, made possible by our Savior and Redeemer.

Shortly after my mission, while a student at Brigham Young University, I received a phone call from my dad. He told me that he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and that although his chances of survival were not good, he was determined to be healed and return to his normal life activities. That phone call was a sobering moment for me. My dad had been my bishop, my friend, and my adviser. As my mother, my siblings, and I contemplated the future, it appeared bleak. My younger brother, Dave, was serving a mission in New York and participated long-distance in these difficult family events.
The medical providers of the day suggested surgery to try and curtail the spread of the cancer. Our family earnestly fasted and prayed for a miracle. I felt that we had sufficient faith that my father could be healed. Just prior to the surgery, my older brother, Norm, and I gave my dad a blessing. With all the faith we could muster, we prayed that he would be healed.
The surgery was scheduled to last many hours, but after just a short time, the doctor came to the waiting room to meet with our family. He told us that as they began the surgery, they could see that the cancer had spread throughout my father’s body. Based upon what they observed, my father had just a few months to live. We were devastated.
As my father awakened from the surgery, he was anxious to learn if the procedure had been successful. We shared with him the grim news.
We continued to fast and pray for a miracle. As my father’s health quickly declined, we began to pray that he could be free of pain. Eventually, as his condition worsened, we asked the Lord to allow him to pass quickly. Just a few months after the surgery, as predicted by the surgeon, my father did pass away.
Much love and care were poured out upon our family by ward members and family friends. We had a beautiful funeral that honored the life of my father. As time passed, however, and we experienced the pain of my father’s absence, I began to wonder why my father had not been healed. I wondered if my faith was not strong enough. Why did some families receive a miracle, but our family did not? I had learned on my mission to turn to the scriptures for answers, so I began to search the scriptures.
Moroni brings additional understanding as he shares the words of his father, Mormon. After speaking of miracles, Mormon explains, “And Christ hath said: If ye will have faith in me ye shall have power to do whatsoever thing is expedient in me.” I learned that the object of my faith must be Jesus Christ and that I needed to accept what was expedient to Him as I exercised faith in Him. I understand now that my father’s passing was expedient to God’s plan. Now, as I lay my hands upon the head of another to bless him or her, my faith is in Jesus Christ, and I understand that a person can and will be physically healed if it is expedient in Christ.
But here is the greater lesson I learned. I had mistakenly believed that the Savior’s healing power had not worked for my family. As I now look back with more mature eyes and experience, I see that the Savior’s healing power was evident in the lives of each of my family members. I was so focused on a physical healing that I failed to see the miracles that had occurred. The Lord strengthened and lifted my mother beyond her capacity through this difficult trial, and she led a long and productive life. She had a remarkable positive influence on her children and grandchildren. The Lord blessed me and my siblings with love, unity, faith, and resilience that became an important part of our lives and continues today.
But what about my dad? As with all who will repent, he was spiritually healed as he sought and received the blessings available because of the Savior’s Atonement. He received a remission of his sins and now awaits the miracle of the Resurrection. The Apostle Paul taught, “For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.” You see, I was saying to the Savior, “We brought my dad to You to be healed,” and it is now clear to me that the Savior did heal him. The balm of Gilead worked for the Nielson family—not in the way that we had supposed, but in an even more significant way that has blessed and continues to bless our lives.

Star tugged at her clothes. It still felt strange to wear a dress to church. In her old church the girls wore pants or shorts on Sunday. But not in her new church. She and her mom had just been baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Star sighed as she looked in the mirror. She was excited to go to church for the first time as an official member, but she was also nervous. Before, she stayed with Mom the whole time at church. But this time she was going to Primary.
Star blinked at her reflection. What if she didn’t fit in? What if the other kids didn’t like her?
“Star? Are you ready?” Mom called.
Star walked downstairs. “Do I look OK?” she asked.
Mom smiled. “You look beautiful.”
Star made a face. “You have to say that. You’re my mom.”
“You’re right. I do have to say that. Because it’s true.”
Star gave a small smile. Mom always had a way of making her feel better. But there were still butterflies in her stomach. What if none of the other kids wanted to talk to her? She had friends at school, but they weren’t members of her new church. She wished she had even one friend going to church with her.
“I just remembered something I have to do,” she told Mom.
She ran back upstairs and knelt by her bed. “Dear Heavenly Father, please help me make friends. I believe what the missionaries taught is true, but I’m scared.”
Star stayed on her knees and listened. After a moment she felt a sweet, peaceful feeling, and she wasn’t so nervous anymore.
At church Star and Mom sat by a family with three little girls. The parents introduced themselves and started talking with Mom before the meeting started. Star helped the girls color a picture of Jesus.
Bishop Andrews made his way toward them. “Sister Cunningham! Star! It’s good to see you today.” He gave them each a warm smile and a handshake. Star had forgotten how nice everyone at church was. Maybe she would make a friend after all.
After sacrament meeting Star went to the Primary room. She glanced at the other kids nervously as she sat down. They were talking to each other and didn’t seem to notice her. Star’s heart sank. She’d be on her own after all.
Just then a girl Star’s age walked into the room. She looks nervous too, Star thought. I could go talk to her.
Star took a deep breath, then walked over to the girl. “Hi, my name is Star. I’m new. Would you like to sit by me?” Star held her breath. Would the girl want to be her friend?
The girl’s mouth turned up in a half-smile. “I’m Sarah. I’m new too. My family just moved here from Ontario.”
“My mom and I were baptized two weeks ago,” Star said. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”
Sarah’s smile grew wider. “We’ll figure it out together.”
Star and Sarah sat with their class. Sometimes Star caught Sarah’s eye and smiled. Sarah smiled back. Star felt calm and happy. She knew that Heavenly Father had answered her prayer and helped her find a friend.
In class the teacher asked Star and Sarah to introduce themselves.
Think About It
How can you help someone who’s new at church feel welcome?
Star stood up. “My name is Star Cunningham. My mom and I were baptized two weeks ago.” She paused, and a smile grew on her face as she looked at her new friend. “And this is my friend Sarah.”

Members of the Church also band together in and with their communities to serve those in need. Whether it be an elders quorum gardening for an injured ward member, young single adults assembling meals for the hungry at a conference, or youth creating beds for a homeless shelter, unified efforts bring relief to many.
Julio was born prematurely in Guatemala. His mother took him to a nutrition screening event held by the Church, and he received nutrition supplements for his development. Julio, like many others blessed by member volunteers in the Church’s member-focused child nutrition effort, has since overcome acute malnourishment.

This is Kaylee and Kyle. They’re twins. They’re getting baptized tomorrow. Grandma has come to visit.
Will you sit on the porch with me?
You seem worried. What’s the matter?
I’m nervous about getting baptized. What if I can’t breathe, or Dad drops me?
I was afraid to tell anyone because they’d laugh.
It’s OK to be nervous. I—
Are you telling stories without me?
Come sit with us! We’re talking about your baptisms tomorrow.
I had baptism jitters too. So my dad gave me a blessing.
After that, I felt calm. I knew being baptized was a good choice.
Do you think Dad would give me a blessing?
And me? I’m nervous too, but I thought everyone would laugh if I told.
You two are alike! Why don’t you ask right now?
Feeling better now?
Yes! I know everything will be OK.
Me too. But now I can’t sleep ’cause I’m too excited!

“Father came home every night shortly after six o’clock, and dinner was always at six-thirty. I remember wonderful evenings at the dinner table. The moment dinner was over, Dad would help clear the table; then we would go into the living room. He would be at one end of the room, totally absorbed in the work he’d brought home. Even so, he always knew what we were doing. If we listened to some good program on the radio, we would keep it down low so that it wouldn’t disturb him. Then, in the middle of the program, he’d look up and smile and say, ‘Turn it up a little. I can’t hear what’s happening.’”

One Sunday School teacher prepared a lesson on Doctrine and Covenants 135–137. However, in class the students became involved in a wonderful discussion about principles in section 135. As many class members shared insights, experiences, and testimonies, class time quickly ran out. The teacher was initially frustrated but then realized it was the students’ participation that had made the lesson successful.

Sunlight streamed through the back door as Bella ran inside with her best friend, Maria.
“Mom, can we go walk our dogs?” Bella asked.
“Sure,” Mom said. “But just go around the block. Dinner is almost ready.”
“OK. Thanks, Mom!” Bella called as she and Maria put leashes on their two Chihuahuas and raced outside.
Bella and Maria had been friends ever since Maria moved in across the street. They were in the same class at school, went to Primary together, and played together almost every day after school. Last year they had both gotten Chihuahua puppies together. They named them Pip and Pat.
Bella felt Pip give a little tug on his leash as they started walking. “Hey,” Maria said, “let’s go up the hill to see Megan.”
“I can only go around the block,” Bella said.
“Your mom will never know unless you tell her,” Maria said.
“I can’t lie to my mom.”
“Well, I’m going. If you’re such a baby about it, then I guess I’ll just make Megan my new best friend.”
Bella couldn’t believe what Maria had just said. She felt a lump in her throat. “So I guess we’re not friends anymore,” she said, her voice cracking, “because I won’t disobey my mom.”
“Whatever.” Maria pulled Pat’s leash and started up the hill to Megan’s house.
Bella watched her go, then turned around and started slowly back to her house with Pip. After a minute she began to run. She wanted to get inside before anyone saw the tears streaming down her face. Pip raced behind her.
“What happened?” Mom asked as Bella burst into the front room.
Bella choked back her tears as she told Mom what Maria had said. Mom listened and wrapped her arms around Bella in a big hug.
“Sometimes it’s hard to do what’s right,” Mom said, “but I’m proud of you for obeying, even when your friend wanted you to do something else.”
“But now she’s not even my friend anymore,” Bella said as she wiped away her tears.
“Sometimes our friends make mistakes,” Mom said. “But the best friends are the ones who help us choose the right. You were a good friend because you showed Maria it’s important to obey your parents. If she’s really your friend, she’ll realize that and be your friend again.”
The next day Bella was playing with Pip when she heard a knock on the door. It was Maria on the porch with Pat at her feet. Maria’s eyes were swollen and red, just like Bella’s had been the night before.
Maria had an envelope in her hand. It was decorated with little red hearts and had Bella’s name across the front.
“I’m sorry about yesterday. I hope you’ll read my note,” Maria said as she handed Bella the envelope. “Will you still be my friend?”
“Of course,” Bella said.
Maria still looked sad. “I shouldn’t have told you to disobey your mom.”
“It’s OK.” Bella smiled. “Now let’s go ask my mom if we can ride bikes.”
Pat tugged on his leash and ran inside to find Pip. Bella and Maria laughed. It felt great to be all together again.

The steady buzz of the alarm clanged into my sweet repose.
“Night over again? Oh no!”
Finally its piercing lullaby ceased, and I reluctantly stirred.
“It’s Saturday. Who needs to get up today?”
Then I saw her, sleepily gathering her robe and slippers in the dim light of the morning bedroom, stretching and slowly slipping to the door.
“Maybe she’s sick; I’ll follow.” No, she passed the bathroom. “Maybe it’s a Saturday exam, and she didn’t study during the week.” No again. “What is she getting? A notebook, pencil, and the scriptures? Can this be? Is she ill? Is this any way to act on Saturday?”
I watched her kneel before the couch in prayer, then arise and curl up on the couch, draping a blanket over her. She began to read, then stopped, seemingly to think. (“Aha, getting sleepy! I knew it wouldn’t last.”) But she was writing in her notebook, pausing, reading, writing—she seemed very intent.
Who could this strange girl be? What had motivated this unusual behavior? Then I recognized her. Why, it was me! The new me. The one who is learning what it means to hunger for the gospel.
What can I gain from scriptures and notebooks and thinking before Saturday breakfast? Much, even eternal life. How great it is to hunger for the words of God, to be filled not with bread but with truth. Perhaps I can give you some background as to how I grew into this insight.
“During this time of great excitement my mind was called up to serious reflection.” (JS—H 1:8. Italics added.)
These are the words of Joseph Smith in his boyhood at the time of religious confusion before the Restoration. As I first read these words, I marveled at his youthful capacity to think and reason deeply.
Nephi as a young man also had this gift.
“As I sat pondering in mine heart I was caught away in the Spirit of the Lord.” (1 Ne. 11:1.)
What wisdom in youth! Can we gain that wisdom or is it a special gift to a few?
As I rushed through high school days, pushed by a seemingly full schedule, I felt it would be wonderful to be caught up in the Spirit as Nephi was or to know the Lord as Joseph Smith did, yet I failed to realize, as many do, the necessity of stopping and pondering. They stopped—I didn’t.
What is pondering?
I didn’t know because I hadn’t done any. I thought I was too busy, and you can’t ponder in a hurry.
As I used to read the scriptures (when I managed to take the time), I tried to read them as I read other things—quickly, scanning, in a hurry for story content and maybe a wee bit of wisdom. I didn’t understand that to digest the scriptures, one must go slowly and learn from scratch the forgotten art of pondering. There was too much “living” to do to spend time in quiet meditation, I mistakenly thought.
In the final year of my crowded college days, I was called to teach a Sunday School class. This was the Lord’s gift to me in the form of a challenge so that I could learn to think and to ponder the things of his kingdom. I had to read and reread the scriptures and slowly ferret out the meat of the gospel verse by verse so that I could present these truths to my students. I balked sometimes at the great amount of time I had to give, and yet this gift was precious. It was water for the tiny embryo seed of my soul that had thirsted so long. I learned to a small degree how all the holy men of God learn to know God and the gospel. It is not a gift to a select few, rather a blessing predicated on the law of obedience, long hours, and study.
As I read the scriptures in these early mornings, I learned some of the basics of pondering and searching.
1. Pray always before you begin to read the scriptures. Slow your mind down and be free from this world. Also, pray all the while you read—as certain concepts of the gospel illuminate your soul or as you have questions. Don’t hesitate to call upon your Father.
2. Keep a paper and pencil handy while you read. This is a stimulating activity, and often goals, exciting ideas, or original thoughts will creep into a stale mind.
3. Go slowly! This study is not a race. No longer do you have to finish a prescribed number of chapters before you go to bed. Spend several days with a single chapter or verse. Memorize scripture and it will bloom with hidden meanings you hadn’t been cognizant of, meanings pertinent to your life today.
4. Ask questions as you read the scriptures. As I read the sacrament prayers (“O God, the Eternal Father, we ask thee in the name of thy Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this bread to the souls of all those who partake of it; that they may eat in remembrance of the body of thy Son, and witness unto thee, O God, the Eternal Father, that they are willing to take upon them the name of thy Son, and always remember him, and keep his commandments which he hath given them, that they may always have his Spirit to be with them.” [Moro. 4:3; italics added]), I would ask myself these questions and try to answer them:
(a) What does it mean to be sanctified?
(b) Have I shown my Father that I want to take upon myself the name of his Son? How do I show him?
(c) How can I witness that I always remember him?
(d) Do I always remember him? How can I?
Through working out these questions and answering them, I found a deeper self than I had known. Question and then call upon the Lord. As I questioned, the doors of my heart unfolded and left room for the Holy Ghost to dwell in me.
5. Stop many times during the day and ponder the single thought that you have searched out in depth. For instance, consider the truth “love your neighbor as yourself.” Repeat the scripture, question your every action, and keep the thought with you on a small card.
All of this is a matter of making yourself take the time; it’s a daily renewal. You’ll be gratified as it refreshes your viewpoint. There will be a new direction in your life and even daily revelation.
All this pondering leads to the true and deep understanding of the gospel, our mission, and God’s glory. Many times as you ponder you pave the way for the sweet peace of the Holy Ghost to enter your heart and illuminate your entire being with truth. This is the glory of the gospel and the glory of intelligence. As I have experienced these things, I have been full of a burning and exultation beyond compare as my mortal understanding has progressed beyond my mortality even for a brief moment.
“Your bosom shall burn.” (D&C 9:8.)
“Through him who enlighteneth your eyes, which is the same light that quickeneth your understanding.” (D&C 88:11.)
Our beloved prophet Joseph Fielding Smith said, “All my life I have studied and pondered the principles of the gospel and sought to live the laws of the Lord. As a result there has come into my heart a great love for him and for his work and for all those who seek to further his purposes in the earth.” (Conference Report, Oct. 1971, p. 6.)
Take the time to ponder. It is a key to unbelievable joy and knowledge here in mortality.
“I leave these sayings with you to ponder in your hearts, with this commandment which I give unto you, that ye shall call upon me while I am near—
“Draw near unto me and I will draw near unto you.” (D&C 88:62–63.)

Old Jerusalem.
Narrow streets—barely wider than alleys—are crowded with people from all over the world: tourists in shorts and sunglasses, priests wearing vestments of various religious orders, young soldiers carrying machine guns, Jewish men and boys wearing skullcaps, and Arabs in flowing robes and shepherd headwear. Some women are dressed in shawls and veils; others are wearing business suits. Little children are darting through the crowd.
As we make our way through the souk (marketplace), the sound of bargaining is everywhere. And the choices are overwhelming. Shopkeepers advertise their goods by lining them out in the street in front of their stores. Wicker baskets are filled with nuts, fruits, and vegetables. Long embroidered dresses hang from overhead. Shelves are filled with religious statues carved from olive wood. There are rows and rows of brass cookware, copper and silver trays, glazed Armenian ceramics, and Persian jugs. And there is an endless array of gold and silver jewelry, sheepskin and leather coats, and exotic oriental rugs.
Someone is making falafel (a fried mixture of spicy ground vegetables); someone else is roasting shish kebab; the smell of fresh bread mingles with the aroma of strange spices. Merchants stand at their doors and invite us inside. Music from various cultures blares from radios.
My wife, Mary, and I stop in a small shop that sells religious items significant to Christians, Jews, and Muslims. As we browse, the shopkeeper—a short, thin Arab man—explains the meaning and use of several items. And he tells us about the Koran.
We decide on our purchase and begin the expected ritual of bargaining on the price. Hoping we’ve settled on a fair amount, we hand the man several crisp, new bills.
He counts them out and surprises us by handing one back.
“You gave me too much,” he explains. The new bills had stuck together. We had overpaid him.
“Thank you,” Mary says. “We appreciate your honesty.”
“Oh, I’m not being honest for you,” the man replies. “I’m being honest for me and my household. I will not buy food for my family with dishonest money!”
As we return to the noisy, crowded street, we realize that we got more than we bargained for—the memory of an Arab friend who wouldn’t sell himself for a crisp, new dollar bill.

A friend of mine told me how she had once handled a situation that embodies the same principle. Married in a civil ceremony, Anne and Bob had set a goal to be sealed in the temple. For a time they were both active in the Church, but Bob gradually lost interest. He and his sports-minded friends looked forward to watching Sunday afternoon football on television.

Anne rose early each Sunday morning, made breakfast for her family, straightened the kitchen, and got herself and their two small children ready for church meetings. She left Bob with a kiss and a smile. In sacrament meeting, she struggled alone with the children, even though her husband had offered to care for them at home.

She said, “I knew it was critical that I set a good example for him and my children. I prayed that Bob would come around if I kept my faith in him. After church, I would pause before entering the house, clear my mind of any negative feelings, and remember how much I loved him. Sometimes the living room was messy with popcorn and cans, but I wouldn’t allow those things to interfere with our relationship.”

After asking her husband’s permission, Anne started preparing to receive her own temple endowment. At first, Bob made only small concessions to living gospel principles. Later, he resumed attending church with his family and finally joined in preparing to attend the temple. Eventually, they were sealed as a family for eternity.

Anne said, “I think he saw the difference the gospel had made in my life. He also noticed that his family was progressing. One day, he just decided to catch up.”

Then, in 1966, he slipped while working and hit his head. Within seconds, Brother Bollbach lost sight in his left eye. “My world fell apart,” he says. “The darkness was awful.”
For a time, Brother Bollbach also lost sight of spiritual things. From the day he was baptized in 1921 in his native Germany, he had focused his life on the gospel. But after the accident, “I could not and did not want to pray,” he sadly recalls. “Even when my wife, Elli, continued to ask me to pray with her, I refused and bitterly asked, ‘Shall I thank God that I am blind?’”
He remained in spiritual darkness until one morning, about two weeks after the accident. Each morning before leaving for work, Elli had prayed alone—while Brother Bollbach stayed in bed. Then one morning after her prayer, as Sister Bollbach bent down to give Fritz a kiss, her tears fell on his face. He was moved by her tenderness. “When I heard her drive off, I knelt on my bed,” he says. “But I couldn’t pray.”
Brother Bollbach remained on his knees for several hours. He tried to speak again and again. But each time, something in him fought against his desire to pray. After much effort, he finally began praying to God again. “A feeling of thanksgiving filled my soul,” he recalls. “I remembered how many blessings I had and how many times Heavenly Father had protected my life. I was at peace.”
Since then, Brother Bollbach has used faith, prayer, obedience, and diligence to triumph over his challenges. “I could not see with my eyes, but God helped me see with my hands and with my heart,” he comments.
Before losing his sight, Brother Bollbach used his skills as a carpenter to build houses for German Latter-day Saints made homeless by World War II. He also helped construct Church meetinghouses. In 1956, the Bollbachs moved to Utah and seven years later became U.S. citizens.
In 1966, challenged with the loss of his sight, Brother Bollbach decided to expand his carpentry skills and to learn woodcarving. He also wanted to help others facing challenges similar to his own. “I made a goal to help the helpless and discouraged people,” he states. “I wanted to show that disabled people could still work and succeed.” A few weeks later, he registered at a school for the blind in Salt Lake City, Utah.
Gordon Clegg, supervisor at the school, says he has taught hundreds of blind people how to carve wood. But Fritz Bollbach, he says, had a special talent. “All I did was build his confidence,” Brother Clegg comments. “He was cautious at first about working with machinery, as most people would be if they were blind.”
Although it was dangerous, Brother Bollbach relied on his fingers to feel the shape and texture of the wood as he chiseled away. Even after breaking one piece of wood after another, he refused to give up. “After weeks of breaking wood, I finally finished a little chess piece,” Brother Bollbach remembers. “A month later, carving without sight, I made a chessboard and a chess table.” On his graduation day, he presented the chess set to the school. Brother Clegg then entered the set in a state fair competition. It won a first-place ribbon.
Brother Bollbach’s new skills gave him the confidence to start on his next goal—helping others like himself succeed. With the help of government funding, Brother Bollbach set up a workshop to teach woodcarving to people with visual impairments. He had many wonderful experiences in the workshop. One in particular stands out in his memory. It was two weeks before Christmas, and he was alone. Brother Bollbach was carving a special present for his wife—the model of an elk. He finished the elk’s body and thin legs with ease, but carving the eyes seemed impossible.
“I decided to stand up,” he says. “As I walked around the workshop, I began to sing my favorite hymn, ‘I Need Thee Every Hour.’ I prayed to God out loud for help, and again I sang.” After singing for more than an hour, Brother Bollbach picked up the knife and wood. But he still couldn’t carve the eyes. “What should I do? Shall I give up?” he asked himself. “No, Fritz, don’t give up. Try it again,” he told himself. However, he still could not hold the knife steady enough to carve the eyes. He stood up again and walked around for another hour.
“I sang, I cried, and I prayed for some time,” he recalls. “I thought of the many blessings the Lord had given me. I then took the knife again, and with my hands shaking, I carved the eyes and within minutes finished the whole head.”
Brother Bollbach says he no longer has problems carving. He proudly points to numerous figures he has made with his calloused yet gentle hands—various animals, chess sets, cabinets, and tables. “I often sat in my workshop early in the morning and late at night to carve,” he says. Only one year after he struggled to carve an elk, an art gallery in Salt Lake City featured his remarkably detailed work.
The Bollbachs extended a special invitation to Church President Harold B. Lee to visit the gallery. Instead, President Lee invited the Bollbachs to visit him at his office. Brother Bollbach fondly recalls the visit. He had created a wood carving of a wild horse jumping over a log to give to President Lee.
“We stood in his office,” Brother Bollbach remembers, “and after a short visit, he shook our hands. As I was leaving, he said to me, ‘I give you my blessing. Peace will be with you.’ I have never lost the peace President Lee promised me. I have always felt it in my heart to this day.”
That peace, won through years of hard work and persistence, reveals itself in Brother Bollbach’s deep-green eyes. Although his face shows the wrinkles of time and his big build has grown fragile from years of labor, his spirit remains strong. His testimony rests solidly on a foundation built by sacrifice and Church service.
Much of Brother Bollbach’s service has been as a missionary in the land of his birth. In 1969, six weeks after Fritz had opened the workshop, Fritz and Elli’s bishop called them into his office and asked them a question. The bishop had to repeat the question three times: “Fritz, the Lord wants you and your wife to serve together in the mission field. What do you think about that?”
“I was shocked,” Brother Bollbach remembers. “I could say nothing.”
Unable to answer the bishop’s question, he asked Elli, “Well, Mama, what do you think?”
She glanced at Fritz and said, “The decision is yours. I will be your eyes.”
He turned back to the bishop and replied, “Bishop, we will go where the Lord wants us to go.”
The Bollbachs were soon serving in the Germany Central Mission. Their main responsibility was to help bring people back to church. “Many of them did not want to pray because they said they had nothing to be grateful for or they just didn’t need anything,” Sister Bollbach explains. “However, Fritz inspired them and helped them to be grateful for life and for God’s blessings.”
One of his first assignments was to serve as branch president in Gelsenkirchen. At first Brother Bollbach was hesitant when the mission president called him to the position. “But you know that I’m blind,” Brother Bollbach told him.
“Yes, of course I know that,” the mission president replied. “God knows it as well.”
Brother Bollbach labored as branch president there until he had a mild heart attack a year later. “I wondered if I should go home after that,” he recalls. “But the doctor examined me and said it was all right for me to stay. So we stayed.”
After they returned from the mission field in 1971, Elli went back to working in the Salt Lake Temple, and Fritz reopened the workshop and put his wood pieces on display. As people flocked to see Brother Bollbach’s carvings, many thought it impossible that a blind man had done such splendid work. “Unbelievable, but not impossible,” he told them. “You must have faith in the Lord and confidence in yourself. All people—no matter what race or creed—are children of God and brought talents with them to earth. It depends upon the individual to discover and realize those talents through diligent effort.”
In 1975, the Bollbachs were surprised by another mission call, this time to the Germany Frankfurt Mission. About the same time, Elli discovered she had cancer. “No one can imagine the fear we felt,” Fritz explains. “Within one week, she underwent three operations. The curious thing was the blessing the bishop gave her. He said to her, ‘Elli, you will recover, and you will again go into the mission field with Fritz to serve God.’ We wondered how he could say such a thing.”
Sister Bollbach recuperated from the operations, and they served an eighteen-month mission in Pirmasens, Germany, near the French border.
Less than a year after returning home, the Bollbachs locked up their house and workshop a third time to serve in the Germany Munich Mission, where Brother Bollbach was called to be branch president in Nürnberg. Although the branch had more than 450 people on its records, only about 20 members attended regularly.
The Bollbachs knew they had challenges, but they also knew how to overcome them. With faith, prayer, obedience, and diligence, they concentrated on visiting less-active members. “A miracle happened,” Brother Bollbach exclaims. “The branch grew. Several months later, the branch was divided into three branches—Feucht, Fürth, and Nürnberg. I know it was the blessing and help of God. We were just the instruments in his hands.”
After coming home, the Bollbachs served as Sunday School teachers for about ten years. Because Fritz could not read the lessons, Elli recorded the lesson manual and passages of scripture onto a tape. Fritz would then listen to the tape several times and would study with Elli for up to eight hours. “I searched out the questions and had them put on tape,” he says. “Then I learned them by heart so we could teach the class together.” They finally were released when Brother Bollbach became too sick to continue the weekly assignment.
The Bollbachs say all their Church assignments have made them happy. “We used our time only for the Church and for God and for learning,” Brother Bollbach comments, “and we were glad. But it was not ourselves, but the power of prayer and the help of God that allowed us to do the work. Without God and Elli, I could not have made it. Without His help, I could not see spiritually with my heart.”

I was born on March 7, 1998, in Congo Town, near Monrovia. Growing up, I attended church regularly with my grandmother in another church. Unfortunately, when she died in 2009 from pressure (hypertension), my church attendance stopped because there was no one around to encourage me about going to church and how to gain salvation.
As I grew older, I became curious about spirituality—how to get salvation and one day go to heaven. That became my goal and wish because my grandmother always told me that heaven is way better than the great America that I wished to visit.
However, I did not attend church again. I later relocated to Brewerville with no involvement in church activities. A big tree had fallen from the family—there was no more support, and everyone had to fight for themselves. I started looking for opportunities to gain an education since my grandmother was no longer around.
My life took many turns, as it does for most people, and through all these experiences, I found myself at a crossroads—searching for something more meaningful.
Later, a young man moved into our community from Nigeria. I found out that he had recently completed his mission and relocated to my community. I enjoyed coming around him because of his strange accent and his stories about the development happening in Nigeria—the beautiful streets and cities.
One day, while we were arguing, one of my colleagues, Amos Bangura, made a statement: “Liberia is a hell, and if you are born and die in Liberia and go to hell, it is a double punishment. Then God is not fair because things are so tough in Liberia.”
The returned missionary, Brother James Kolue, quickly used that statement as an opportunity to teach us about Heavenly Father’s love for all His children—no matter their location, family background, or country. He taught us that God’s love extends beyond our imagination.
After his teaching, I quickly asked him: “Which church are you attending?”
He replied, “I attend The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Have you heard about this church before?”
I quickly said, “Yes, I sometimes see their missionaries passing by.”
He asked if I would like to learn from the missionaries, and I accepted the invitation. I started meeting with the missionaries. They were friendly and kind, and their message about Jesus Christ and the plan of salvation felt different from anything I had ever heard before.
I spent several weeks learning more about their beliefs and reading the Book of Mormon. There was something about the teachings that resonated deeply with me. I remember the day I prayed for the first time to know if the Church was true, and I felt an overwhelming peace—something I had never felt before.
That was when I knew I had to take the next step.
However, life became tough, and I moved to Logan Town in search of opportunities. There, I met different missionaries and stopped them to explain that I had been learning with missionaries in Brewerville. They contacted the other missionaries and continued my teaching.
The missionaries introduced me to the bishop, who was then Bishop Paul Wrotto. He guided and helped me as I took this new step. Soon after, I was baptized. The moment I emerged from the water, I felt like a new person. My heart was full, my mind clearer, and I was ready to follow the path that Heavenly Father had set for me.
The gospel changed everything in my life, and I felt a strong desire to share it with others—just as the missionaries had shared it with me.
I felt prompted to serve a full-time mission and discussed this with Bishop Wrotto. The decision wasn’t easy. I had doubts about leaving behind the life I knew, especially the part-time job that I struggled to get. But my bishop said two things that remained in my heart:
God knows you personally. “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you” (Matthew 6:33).
You should create time for God. God should not create time for you.
These words kept playing in my mind. I knew it was what I was supposed to do.
I began preparing for my mission, and soon I was called to serve in the Ghana Accra Mission under President and Sister Young. I left my job to fully prepare, but then the unexpected happened: COVID-19.
The pandemic spread rapidly, buildings were shut down, churches were closed, and public gatherings were prohibited. The missionary training center (MTC) was closed, and I was stuck at home—no job, no mission, just frustration.
During this period, I began questioning my decision. But my bishop encouraged me to use the time as an opportunity to study the scriptures and follow the Come, Follow Me program.
Later, we were notified that we would begin online MTC training. Finally, I was blessed to serve in the Ghana Accra Mission.
My mission took me to places where I met incredible people and worked with companions who taught me to be bold in sharing the gospel and patience in helping others find the same joy I had found.
When I returned home, I felt the desire to share the gospel with my family—especially my brother. He had been skeptical when I first joined the Church. He didn’t understand why I was so passionate about it. But instead of forcing him, I decided to live by example.
One evening, I sat down with him and shared my testimony. I told him how the gospel had changed my life. To my surprise, he listened. We discussed the Book of Mormon, the teachings of Jesus Christ, and the Restoration of the gospel. It wasn’t a quick process, but over time he started reading and praying on his own.
Months later my brother made the decision to be baptized. I couldn’t have been happier. I saw him changing, growing, and the same light I once felt began to shine in him.
Eventually, he felt inspired to serve a full-time mission as well. He is currently serving in the DRC Kinshasa West Mission.
It brings me so much joy to see how far he has come. I know he will touch lives and help others find the same peace that comes from knowing Jesus Christ.
The gospel is meant to be shared, and I will continue to share it with those around me—just as I once shared it with my brother.
As I reflect on my journey—from meeting the missionaries, becoming a missionary myself, and helping my brother find his own path—I know that the Lord’s plan is much bigger than we can understand.
I call this story “a journey of faith.”

Congratulations to the Figueroa sisters of Puerto Rico, 16-year-old identical triplets who were baptized not long ago. The missionaries had visited their home more than seven years ago but hadn’t returned. One day last year, Belen felt inspired to take a different route home from school, where she found other elders. She approached them and asked them to come teach her family.
They did, and soon Awilda, Belen, Cecilia, and Carmen (an older sister) were baptized.
They’re all active in the Trujillo Alto Ward and love seminary and Young Women.