Gospel Story Finder

To the west of our home was our garden plot. Part of the garden was in potatoes. One day my father said to my sister and me, “There are more potatoes than we can use. If you would like to sell some, you may do so.” My sister Alice and I dug some up and hauled them down to a hotel and sold them. When we showed the money to our father, he asked what we were going to do with it. We said we would divide it before buying some things we wanted. Then he questioned, “What about your tithing?” He said, “The Lord had been good to us. We planted and cultivated and harvested, but the earth is the Lord’s. He sent the moisture and the sunshine. One-tenth we always give back to the Lord for his part.” My father made no requirement; he merely explained it so convincingly that we felt it an honor and privilege to pay tithing.

Bishop Richard C. Edgley
(52) Richard C. Edgley, as a member of a stake presidency, calls a less-active woman to be a stake missionary.

The members of the youth committee of the Little Rock Arkansas Stake wanted to fellowship and get acquainted with the Special Interests and Young Special Interests in their stake. They planned an evening dinner and program, but first the Special Interests were invited to attend the Super Saturday seminary lesson.
Over 230 youth, chaperones, and Special Interests attended and enjoyed the dinner the youth prepared and served as well as the talent show, skits, and readers’ theater.

“During December 1987, I had some Church assignments in Bolivia, a beautiful South American country where the Church is growing rapidly but where the people have very little. The Regional Representative, Elder Philip Kradolfer, accompanied me, and he brought a large suitcase full of toys. Just before Christmas each year, his children give up some of their toys to help the children living in the Altiplano, or high plateau region, of Bolivia. It was wonderful to see the children’s faces as they received a doll, a game, a book, or a purse. Jesus taught that it is better to give than to receive, and I am sure that you have felt the same happiness when you have been a secret helper.

Stephen E. Robinson’s article “Believing Christ” in the April 1992 issue of Nordstjärnan (Swedish) helped me to understand that I cannot do everything myself. I need help from Christ. I understand now that I am not required to run faster than I am able, and that I can get help. Now I try to do my best, and I know that with the Lord’s help I can keep trying. He is always there for me.
Gisela JacobiHelsingborg Branch, Malmö DistrictSvalöv, Sweden

I consider June 2, 1940, to be a very important day in the history of my family. On this day my father was baptized into this Church.
Writing to his father, Elder Jack McDonald, one of the missionaries who baptized my father, described the day with these words:
“Last Sunday was an especially beautiful day. We missionaries went out to a secluded spot on the river’s edge, out in the country, and there Elder Jones and I [Elder McDonald] made our first baptism. Antony Aidukaitis entered into the icy waters and became a member of the Church. … Everything was perfect. The sky so blue, the countryside so still, so green, so lovely that none of us could help feeling the presence of some great influence.
“[As we walked] with our new member, he said that he just couldn’t explain how wonderful this day had been for him, how he actually felt like a new man. … That was our first baptism—no credit to me or anybody. He converted himself.”
This event changed the history of my life. I am not sure my father was able to foresee the wisdom of his act, but I love him for what he did that day. He passed away more than 30 years ago, but I will honor and bless his name forever.
I admire the courage my father had to be baptized into the Church in spite of the circumstances he faced at the time. It was not easy for him. His wife did not get baptized with him. The vices of drinking alcohol and smoking were strong temptations for him. He was poor. His mother was against his joining the Church, and she told him that if he were baptized, she would no longer consider him her son. With fewer than 300 members in Brazil, the Church did not have a single chapel there. I am truly astonished by my father’s determination and courage.
How could he make such a decision in the face of so many unfavorable circumstances? The answer is simple: it was because my father read the Book of Mormon. When he read it, he came to know of the truthfulness of the message of the Restoration. The Book of Mormon is a proof that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true. Preach My Gospel teaches that “the Book of Mormon, combined with the Spirit, is [the] most powerful resource in conversion” ([2004], 104).

Finally, on 15 May 1829, a resurrected John the Baptist laid his hands on the heads of Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery and restored the “keys of the ministering of angels, and of the gospel of repentance, and of baptism by immersion for the remission of sins” (D&C 13:1).
As before, it became possible for a repentant person to enter into the baptismal covenant and be washed clean of sin. Once again the fulness of the Atonement could bless and change lives. Power had been restored.
“This Aaronic Priesthood, bestowed by John the Baptist, also includes the keys of baptism by immersion for the remission of sins. It is one thing to repent. It is another to have our sins remitted or forgiven. The power to bring this about is found in the Aaronic Priesthood. … The holding of the Aaronic Priesthood, and the exercise of its power, is not a small or unimportant thing. The bestowal of these keys in this dispensation was one of the greatest and most significant things incident to the entire Restoration. It was the first bestowal of divine authority in this, the dispensation of the fulness of times. It is the priesthood of God, with authority to act in the name of the Savior of mankind.”—President Gordon B. Hinckley(Ensign, May 1988, 46)

Recently I visited Harmony, Pennsylvania, USA. There, under the maple trees, the priesthood was restored to Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery. I also went to the home where Joseph and Emma Smith lived. Inside, I stood at the window and wondered what Emma thought when she looked through that window.

A few years ago, I taught a family home evening lesson on faith. My family had been spending lots of time talking about faith because my older brother had questions about why we need faith. I planted a seed I saved from a cantaloupe in a little cup. I told my family that faith was like a seed. If you took good care of it, the seed would grow.
We had never had much success growing gardens. But I hoped I could make this plant grow and that I could be a good example of faith. I put the cup in the window and took care of it. I waited and prayed for my seed to grow.
I had almost given up, but after a week I finally saw some green sprouting up. It grew in the window for another week. Then my parents helped me find a place to plant it in a backyard flowerbed.
I took good care of my plant. I watered it and kept the weeds away. It kept growing bigger and bigger. I was so excited!
After weeks went by, I noticed flowers, and then small fruit began to sprout. We watched seven cantaloupes grow on the vine from my one little seed. To me it was a miracle and an answer to my prayers. The fruit was sweet, just like it says in Alma 32:42: “And because of your diligence and your faith and your patience with the word in nourishing it, that it may take root in you, behold, by and by ye shall pluck the fruit thereof, which is most precious, which is sweet above all that is sweet.”
This experience made me very happy and taught me and my family that faith is a true principle of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

December 2, 2018 was an important milestone date for members of the Church in Angola when the Luanda Angola Stake was organized—the very first stake in that country. Elder Joni L. Koch, General Authority Seventy and Second Counselor in the Africa Southeast Area Presidency, presided at this unprecedented stake conference, and—along with Elder Artur J. Miranda, Area Seventy—conducted the business of organizing the new stake and the new stake presidency.
President Isidro Luís Narciso Baptista was called as stake president, with President Sebastião Dombaxe Quiame as first counselor, and President Amândio de Alméida Feijó as second counselor. All three of these brothers have served in various Church leadership capacities in the years leading up to the creation of the new stake.

Florence Chukwurah has a special understanding for children from poor backgrounds—especially those who feel shy because of poverty or lack of education. Visiting the branches of the Ghana Accra Mission as the mission president’s wife, Sister Chukwurah carried a special message to such young people. “We were visiting a small branch,” Sister Chukwurah recalls. Many of the young people could not read, and many were not coming to church. “The Spirit said, ‘Tell them the story of your life.’ So I told them that I grew up in similar circumstances. I told them that I was able to overcome my shyness by studying and by obeying my parents and teachers.”

Children express their love in original and innovative ways. On my birthday some time ago, a precious little girl presented me with her handwritten birthday card and enclosed in the envelope a tiny toy padlock which she liked and thought I would enjoy receiving as a gift.
“Of all the dear sights in the world, nothing is so beautiful as a child when it is giving something. Any small thing it gives. A child gives the world to you. It opens the world to you as if it were a book you’d never been able to read. But when a gift must be found, it is always some absurd little thing, pasted on crooked, … an angel looking like a clown. A child has so little that it can give, because it never knows it has given you everything.”9
Such was Jenny’s gift to me.

By the time Jeff was missionary age, Bishop Chambers had been called as the stake president. But the new bishop, David Nye, had already heard from Jeff, who wanted his opportunity to serve, too. President Chambers and Bishop Nye arranged for Jeff to work one day each week in the cafeteria of the Idaho Falls Idaho Temple. In addition, Jeff was called to serve with his brother as an usher, and they were encouraged to study their scriptures together.
Both young men check in regularly with their bishop, and from time to time with their stake president, to report on their progress. That progress has been magnificent.
The young men are enthusiastic about their callings and greet everyone they meet with a handshake and a smile. In return, they are greeted with friendship and kindness. Everybody in their home ward, as well as in the Riverside Singles Branch, which meets in the same building—in fact, just about everybody in the stake—recognizes the Balls brothers and knows about their special assignments. Lots of children in the stake remember Jacob as one of the special teachers who helped them learn about baptism and confirmation. And every Wednesday, Jeff’s mother Denise makes the one-hour drive to the temple so Jeff can spend the afternoon working in the cafeteria.
There, Jeff has made friends with cafeteria workers and temple patrons alike. He gathers up dishes and helps serve food, and yes, he loves to eat the meal he is provided, especially the slice of pie. But his number-one accomplishment, he says, is to help people feel happy. It’s something Jeff does in the house of the Lord, and something both Jacob and Jeff do in the ward, branch, and stake where they serve.

Recently in a study group of college-age students I was asked, “Which scripture or quotation in Church history gives you the greatest spiritual uplift?” Although I don’t ever remember having been asked this question in such a setting before, I found myself answering without hesitation and with firm conviction: “I think the most powerful declaration ever uttered in the history of the Church is, ‘Joseph, This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!’” (JS—H 1:17).
We went on to talk about the powers of this celestial conversation and of the plainness of the setting, the greeting, the introduction, and the invitation. Here in a grove of trees were two heavenly personages appearing to a fourteen-year-old boy in response to his earnest pleas and unwavering faith. Here in a setting of simple beauty an obscure boy was called by name by God, was introduced to the Savior Jesus Christ, and was invited to listen to words of understandable plainness that he might begin to learn the most important facts taught in this world.

I remember as a boy sitting in this Tabernacle and hearing President Heber J. Grant, his voice trembling with conviction, read these words:
“How long can rolling waters remain impure? What power shall stay the heavens? As well might man stretch forth his puny arm to stop the Missouri river in its decreed course, or to turn it up stream, as to hinder the Almighty from pouring down knowledge from heaven upon the heads of the Latter-day Saints.” (D&C 121:33.)
I believed those words when I heard President Grant read them then. I believe them now. I believe without any question, my brethren and sisters, that this is the work of God and that he is pouring out, in a marvelous and miraculous way, his blessings upon this people.

It was the first Christmas I got to work. My friend and I cleaned gardens, scrubbed walls, and did all sorts of jobs all month. We ended up with $10 each, one week before Christmas.
Everybody had already bought their gifts, and I was debating whether to give my $10 away or not. But when Christmas day came, I gave the money I had worked so hard for to my mom. She cried because she knew what I’d been through to get it.
I felt so happy! I felt I had really done something good. I’ll never forget that Christmas, ever!
—Vao Paongo, 13Nuku‘alofa, Tonga

I sat in the temple waiting to do baptisms for the dead, and I prayed. I was 20 years old, and I wanted to know: Should I serve a full-time mission? I had been feeling that the answer was no, but I wanted to ask once and for all.
Suddenly I shivered all over, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over me. No was the impression I felt. No mission for me.
Although I knew the expectation for young women to go on missions is not the same as for young men, I was confused. Why did the Spirit encourage me not to serve? Wouldn’t I be good at spreading the gospel?
As some of my friends received mission calls, I sometimes wondered what my future would hold. My 21st birthday was approaching, and I couldn’t help thinking, “There’s still time to be interviewed and submit my mission papers.”
I was studying in England when my parents called me. I could hear my mother crying as she told me the devastating news. She had been diagnosed with cancer.
By the time I came home to the United States a month later, chemotherapy was making Mom weak. I started helping around the house, learning to manage chores and meals. I also spent hours talking to Mom, fearful that I might lose her. I learned that managing a household is complicated, time-consuming work, and I gained a new appreciation for Mom’s efforts over the years. I barely managed to put decent dinners on the table.
Fortunately, our ward members and others in the community gathered to help us.
Mom’s treatment went on, and meanwhile our family grew closer. Mom told us stories about her youth, and we played lots of board games. We talked about the scriptures. My dad shared his fears with me as well as his testimony.
That summer, I learned eternal lessons. I knew my place for now was at home. My testimony grew as I felt Heavenly Father’s love all summer long. I became better friends with the ward members I had known all my life. My family grew closer, comforted by the knowledge that our family ties would last beyond death. I thanked the Lord for answering my question about serving a mission, guiding me to be with my family.
Editor’s note: Since her treatments, the author’s mother has recovered her health.
[illustrations] Illustrated by Greg Hally

After a heart attack and back surgery, he had to use one of these. He even spoke in general conference sitting down!

There was knocking at our door. I opened it to find two young men standing there. Tactlessly, I closed the door before they could say anything.

“Open the door again and say you are sorry,” my father’s voice commanded from the back of the house. “We did not teach you to treat people this way!”

Feeling a little ridiculous, I opened the door. “I’m sorry,” I mustered.

“I want to know about you, about your beliefs. Please come in,” my father invited. The young men introduced themselves as missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Reluctantly, I listened to their message—at age 13, I had no choice but to participate.

For four months those missionaries visited my home, teaching the doctrines of the restored Church of Jesus Christ. “We respect and admire your courage, but we will never change our religion,” my father finally told them, and we never saw those elders again.

Olivio Gomes Manuel grew up in a small Angolan village. He and his seven brothers and sisters lived in a two-room mud hut with a dirt floor and thatched roof. Plumbing and electricity were unheard of.
When Olivio was nine years old, his country was thrust into an extremely violent civil war in which thousands were murdered or just disappeared. Then, when most of the fighting was over, famine swept through Angola, and thousands more died of starvation. “It was not a good life,” Olivio says, in his very deep, soft voice. Understatement is typical of him.
But Olivio was saved from starvation by his incredible height and agility. He was able to play basketball for food. “God blessed me,” he says.
By the age of eleven, Olivio was six-foot-three. He had been playing professional ball for about two years. “Professional” meant that the company that sponsored his team would sometimes feed him on game days. Some weeks, those were the only full meals Olivio ate.
And the road trips were the best of all—his meals were all taken care of. Olivio played in Nigeria, Algeria, Zaire, and even in Czechoslovakia. “I was there for ten days, and they gave us money for food,” says Olivio. “With this money I bought clothes and shoes for my family. It was difficult to buy clothes in Angola. They were so expensive.”
Olivio had been raised by his parents to be a good Christian, but at times his faith was tried. “If there is a God, how can he let so many people die—so many people suffer?” he asked. Still, Olivio could not deny that God had had a hand in his survival. He felt that he was being prepared for something.