Gospel Story Finder

Recently, a bishop who was concerned about reverence in his ward expressed his concern to the members of the ward council and asked for their suggestions. Hesitantly, the Primary president raised her hand.
“Well,” she said, “one person consistently does a lot of enthusiastic visiting in the chapel just before and after sacrament meeting. It can be pretty distracting.”
The bishop had not noticed anyone being especially noisy in the chapel, but he said he would talk to the offending party. He asked the sister who it was.
She took a deep breath. “It’s you, Bishop,” she said. “I know you’re just reaching out to people, and we all appreciate your desire to greet everyone who comes to the meeting. But when others see you moving around the chapel talking to people during the prelude music, they figure it’s OK for them to do the same thing.”
When others in the ward council nodded in agreement, the bishop thanked her and asked for recommendations. The council soon decided that the bishopric, including the bishop, should be in their places on the stand five minutes before sacrament meeting to set an example of reverence in the chapel. During a follow-up discussion, the council members indicated unanimously that the simple plan had worked and that reverence in sacrament meeting had improved decidedly.

While the formal classroom may be intimidating at times, some of the most effective teaching takes place other than in the chapel or the classroom. Well do I remember that about this season, some years ago, members holding the Aaronic Priesthood would eagerly look forward to an annual outing commemorating the restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood. By the busload the young men of our stake journeyed ninety miles north to the Clarkston Cemetery, where we viewed the grave of Martin Harris, one of the three witnesses of the Book of Mormon. While we surrounded the beautiful granite shaft which marks his grave, Elder Glen L. Rudd, then a high councilor, presented the background of the life of Martin Harris, read from the Book of Mormon his testimony, and then bore his own witness to the truth. The young men listened with rapt attention, touched the granite marker, and pondered the words they had heard and the feelings they had felt.

At a park in Logan, lunch was enjoyed. The group of young men then lay down on the lawn at the Logan Temple and gazed upward at its lofty spires. Beautiful white clouds hurried by the spires, moved along by a gentle breeze. The purpose of temples was taught. Covenants and promises became much more than words. The desire to be worthy to enter those temple doors entered those youthful hearts. Heaven was very close that day. Learning what we should learn was assured.

Two missionaries teaching an older couple in their home in Peru were interrupted by the arrival of the couple’s son, his wife, and three children. The elders explained who they were and what they were doing. The son was suspicious of the missionaries, resulting in an awkward moment. The junior companion prayed silently, “Heavenly Father, what do we do?” The impression came to sing. They sang “I Am a Child of God.” The Spirit touched the hearts of this family of five. Instead of two converts, all seven became members, influenced initially by a hymn.

A few years ago, after attending the temple for the first time, a sister wrote:
“What a glorious blessing to be inside that house! My eyes, ears, and heart opened wide to absorb its teachings. I felt the reality of each covenant I made within every fiber and bone of my body. I felt I was standing right in front of the Lord each time I made covenants with him. The influence of the Lord was so great that I had no desire to leave the temple after the session was over. It became real to me then that I was surely in the world but not of it.”
Four weeks later, she went through the temple on behalf of her mother and wrote:
“This was another glorious experience. I felt my mother’s presence as I went through the endowment session, and when the marriage sealing was performed for my parents, I literally felt their presence at the altar. The influence of the Holy Spirit in the room was so strong that I broke down in tears while being sealed to my parents. I truly experienced a reunion with them. Ever since that day I have felt their presence so close that it doesn’t seem real that they are gone.”

Several years ago, I had two late miscarriages. Upon hearing I was miscarrying for a second time, my friend April, who had just given birth to twins earlier that week, showed up on my doorstep with a meal and a warm embrace. She hugged me and cried with me. Words weren’t needed, she was just there. Incidentally, she is the creator and voice of all the Pathway Connect math lessons. I’ll bet she’s rescued a lot of you in some of your darkest days as well.

After the miscarriage, I tried to get back into the swing of things, but a couple of weeks later, I had a breakdown where I couldn’t stop crying for a day or so. My husband, Brent, tried to console me and wanted to fix whatever was wrong. Although I knew there was a logical reason for these losses and I wasn’t consciously grief-stricken, something deep inside of me was broken. Aside from my husband, I could have called a friend, a sibling, or my parents, but I was too proud to reach out for help. I mistakenly felt like I needed to be a pillar of strength in my ward and my family because my husband was the bishop and my parents were preparing to leave for a mission.

In desperation, Brent called my friend Donna, who lived about 40 minutes away. She was a busy mother of seven, but she dropped everything that Saturday afternoon to come and be with me. She held me, cried with me, and brought me some food. In a matter of hours, the sadness lifted.

Heavenly Father loves us and wants us to help one another face the trials of life. My two friends honored their baptismal covenants and succored me just as it reads in Mosiah. They were “willing to bear . . . another’s burdens, that they may be light . . . and [were] willing to mourn with those that mourn . . . and comfort those that stand in need of comfort.”[13] We need each other. We need friends, family, neighbors, and coworkers. We need to minister to one another, not just as a calling, but as disciples of Jesus Christ who are trying to be like Him.

I was driving a herd of sheep across the desert near the Nevada-Utah border. Several ranchers had put their herds together for the drive. It was summer, and there is a stretch of trail we were taking of nearly a hundred miles where there was no water. My father had not been able to make the trip with us, but he had given instructions on where to find a spring about halfway across. “It’s ten miles out of your way, but if you spend a day there you can make the crossing no problem. Don’t let them talk you into trying to push straight through.”
It was hot, and the sheep were already hanging their tongues when we reached the place that my father had told us was the turnoff point to the spring.
Tom Larson, a tall thin man, pulled his horse up next to me.
“We’d better push on through,” he said. “Your father’s a good man, but I never heard of a spring, and if there is it’s gotta’ be dry as a horned toad’s back.”
He looked out toward gray, lifeless hills to emphasize his point.
“You’ll be losin’ your entire herd. If you push through, maybe a lamb or two.”
But there was no choice. Back up a canyon a few miles from where we were, my father said there would be water, and I believed him.
“You’ll be lucky if you get yourselves out alive,” Tom yelled as we turned my herd out from the rest.
I thought about my father up there in Montana, 700 miles from home, sending his last few dollars to Bishop Anderson. There really was no choice then either. I thought about it as we moved silently up the terribly dry wash of canyon with only the sound of sheep’s hooves on the stones and the cicada hum. Bedbugs with green paint on their back—the people in that hotel, instead of keeping the place up, had tried to just paint over things. It looked good on the outside, but when you got inside it wasn’t. My father knew who he was and what he believed in, and he wasn’t about to become anything less. From him I learned to decipher the light from the shadows. The summer we’d spent in Montana had been a hard summer, but it had also been a good one.
The sheep were too thirsty to make much noise, and the herders with me weren’t talking. I knew they thought I was crazy. They didn’t know my father like I did.
We found the spring late in the afternoon about two miles up the canyon. It came from under a great granite ledge, cold and pure, and flowed down for a hundred feet and then disappeared into the gravel of the dry wash. My father had called it the spring in the shadows.

For example, just last winter while on a real estate development site visit in Hawaii, the President of a California investment bank who would shortly be placed in an adversarial position with my client because of an imminent default I knew my client would commit with respect to a very large loan, mentioned that he had known members of the Church who served as legal counsel to him on other transactions. He showed great respect having previously learned that I was a member of the Church and confessed a genuine curiosity as to what we believed. I felt compelled by the Spirit to meet him the next day before he returned to San Francisco to present him with a copy of the Book of Mormon with my testimony in it. Although he graciously accepted the gift and promised to read it, this meeting ran counter to all of my legal and ethical training. Nevertheless, the Spirit commanded, and I knew I was the salt of the earth in this particular instance and could not live with the thought that I had lost my savor.

I have always been fascinated by the wild outdoors. I love the mountains. I love the ocean. I love the rivers. I love the animals. I think that God’s creations are almost beyond any description in their beauty and value.
When I was 16 years old I wanted to see more of the outdoors, so my mother gave me permission to work in Alaska for the summer. I rode an old propeller plane there and found a job working in a grocery store.
I worked with a lay minister who was quite interested in converting me to his beliefs. Day after day we discussed the scriptures, but it was hard for me to defend my faith because, frankly, I didn’t know it well enough. I struggled to explain the Joseph Smith story and the revelations he had received in a way the minister could accept.
I finally realized I needed some help. So I looked up the full-time missionaries in the area and asked them if they would teach me more about the gospel. That summer I often spent an hour or two with the missionaries before talking with the minister, who had become a very good friend.
One particular night I awoke from sleep. I felt concerned that I couldn’t teach the gospel very well, even though I was coming to know it was true.
Outside the summer sun was shining the brightest fluorescent colors on the Alaska mountain range. The clouds hovered about two-thirds of the way up the slope, making it look like the mountain was floating in the air. It was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. It is hard to describe the beauty I saw and the reverence I felt for Heavenly Father’s creations.
I dropped to my knees and asked Heavenly Father to hear my prayer. I sincerely wanted to know that the Book of Mormon was true, and I sincerely wanted to know if what my mother had taught me all those years was what I should believe. I wanted to know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the true Church of God upon this earth.
That night—although it was still daylight in the Alaskan frontier—I came to know that the Church is true. I came to know that the Book of Mormon is the word of God. I came to know the importance of eternal relationships with my mother, deceased father, and other family members.
I stood up the next morning a different person because I knew that I could bear my testimony—that these things had been revealed to me by the Holy Spirit. The minister couldn’t handle that. He could debate the doctrine, but he could not argue against my witness that I knew the Church was true.
Though I remembered the names of the missionaries who taught me, I lost track of them for many years. In 1998 one of those missionaries was called to be a General Authority. Elder Stephen A. West was one of the key figures in helping me gain a complete testimony of the gospel. As General Authorities, he and I were assigned to the North America Southeast Area Presidency and were able to talk about our experiences that had happened so many years ago. I shall forever remember that Alaskan adventure I experienced as a 16-year-old boy.

In 2019, the program was approved, and I was among the first generation of students in Kinshasa to be enrolled. The beginning was difficult for me, because I had a full-time job and lived in a different area from the meeting location. But I had the support of my family and my friend Patrick Kalambayi. We both walked a long distance to attend the meetings and returned home late. Sometimes we didn’t have electricity. We were looking for places with electricity to charge our computer.

At one point, the government authorities shut down internet due to some political issues. My friend and I went to the local UN agency for help, telling them we had to send our school assignments and we needed connection to the internet to do our homework. I have a testimony that Heavenly Father puts people in our path to support and help us in times of adversity, such as electricity and internet access shortages.

After completing PathwayConnect, I decided to enroll in the public health program at Brigham Young University-Idaho. I completed a certification in public health planning and implementation, health method evaluation and epidemiology. I have learned to support the world in disease prevention and developed a pandemic health program. I was very happy to support my country during the COVID-19 breakout in Kinshasa. People were amazing. I learned more skills about how to control this disease in my community.

The BYU-Pathway Worldwide program helped me to understand that we must be faithful and improve our skills to establish the kingdom of our Savior on the earth. This program increased my knowledge of the Savior and motivated me to gain more skills and to become more faithful.

Instead of dwelling on difficulties and struggle, I have learned to trust the Lord and to pursue my education at famous universities across the world. Today I am proud to say that I earned three university degrees: one from my country, one from India, and one from the United States. As a result, I have increased my income, my faith in Jesus Christ, and my skills in the field of public health.

The skills that I learned during my journey have helped me to build a health nongovernmental organization and work in mental health awareness in the DRC. My recent experience, when I was applying for a new job as a public health specialist at the Center for Disease Control in DRC, the human resources team was surprised that I have an American degree and I live in Congo, and it was easy for them to verify this from my diploma.

The hiring process was interesting and each step I went through, I learned to be ready due to the PathwayConnect program, preparing my CV and cover letter, enjoying the interview, and showing people my unique qualifications. I am grateful to my Heavenly Father for the opportunity He gave me to join the team of the Center for Disease Control in DRC to prevent, detect and control disease in my country.

As an African, we are blessed to have an American degree, serve our community, and strengthen the Church in our local area. BYU-Pathway Worldwide blesses my life, my family, and my country in this specific time. The program helped me to understand the principle of working hard quietly and to let your success be your noise.

Whatever level you are in life and whether you have a degree or not, please join the program and work hard, the Lord knows your effort and will assist you to gain a new degree and develop more skills and the world will pay you based on your education and skills.

Nature provides some striking parallels. The late film producer Cecil B. DeMille shared this experience:
“One day as I was lying in a canoe, a big black beetle … climbed up to the canoe. I watched it idly for some time.
“Under the heat of the sun, the beetle proceeded to die. Then a strange thing happened. His glistening black shell cracked all the way down the back. Out of it came a shapeless mass, quickly transformed into beautifully, brilliantly-colored life. … There gradually unfolded iridescent wings from which the sunlight flashed a thousand colors. … The blue-green body took shape.
“Before my eyes had occurred a metamorphosis—the transformation of a hideous beetle into a gorgeous dragonfly. … I had witnessed … a miracle. Out of the mud had come a beautiful new life. And the thought came to me that if the Creator works such wonders with the lowliest of creatures, what may not be in store for the human spirit!”

Let me show you a picture of the hand of my 93-year-old mother. She never let go of the rod. Just a few weeks before she passed away—when she was unable to stand or walk or really do anything for herself—her one desire was to have the bishop come to her bedside so that she could renew her temple recommend because hers had expired. She received that recommend. You can see that her hand naturally curved around the rod. It had grown that way over many years of practice. I hope that one day my hand will look just like hers. And I believe that we can actually get to the point that we no longer grasp the rod out to the side. Instead, that rod of iron will run right through us, keeping us upright—strong and safely secured.

I was nearing my seventh birthday when we went to Grandma’s house. I ran into the house yelling, “Grandma, we’re here!”
“Aren’t you excited?” she asked. “This is your present.” She was sitting at a table with a nearly finished porcelain doll that she had made to look like me! It had brown hair and blue eyes like me. It was in a white dress. She explained that the white dress was to help me prepare for my baptism in a year. The doll was holding a bouquet of flowers, which she explained were the colors of the Young Women values.
The white dress was for faith, the blue flowers for divine nature, the red flowers for individual worth, the green leaves for knowledge, the orange flowers for choice and accountability, the yellow flowers for good works, and the purple flowers for integrity. She said that she is going to give me a new doll each year representing these value colors to help me prepare for Young Women.
I wore a dress very much like the doll’s to my baptism!Krystel A., age 8, Utah

March 23, 2024 was one of the busiest days of the Open House with more than 11,000 visitors. The guests were waiting in line under the unforgiving sun.
“But their patience and understanding were commendable,” volunteer Dino Santos noted. “You could see their excitement.”
He continued, “Many prayed for the clouds to cover the sun, and voila! The sun was indeed covered! It was a miracle, a prayer instantly answered!”

When tragedy strikes in a village in Polynesia, help isn’t very far away. That’s just the way things work in the tight knit communities of the Pacific.
This was especially true for Tevita Lei, a student at Saineha High School in Vava’u, Tonga.
When his family’s home was completely destroyed by fire, they lost everything. The next day, his fellow classmates got together and discussed what the family needed to start putting their world back together.
Mele’ana Mafi teaches computer science at the school, which is operated by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She remembers the day she looked around her classroom and noticed someone missing. Students confirmed that Tevita Lei was not there.
The teacher asked, “Why is he not here?”
A soft voice in the back said, “His house burned down last week.”
“Our simple discussions led everyone to think outside the box,” Mele’ana recalls.
“Students started volunteering to donate things for the most urgent needs, such as uniforms, school materials, a new school bag. The rest of the students volunteered to donate other things such as food, clothes and blankets.”
Mele’ana then went to the school principal, Motuliki Fakatava, to tell him about the situation and to see if he could provide transportation for the class members to deliver the items they had collected. He readily agreed.
“As soon as Mele’ana told me this story,” Motuliki reports, “I felt an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. Several months ago, I felt prompted to begin to set aside in storage some food and clothing, but I didn’t know why or who it would be for. As soon as Mele’ana told me this story, I knew this was the right time and purpose.”
The next day, all the members of Tevita’s computer class got on a school bus during home room time and went to see what was left of his home. In addition to Motuliki’s items, the students brought along all that they had managed to collect including some essentials such as rice, flour, sugar, beans and crackers.
They found Tevita and his father there by themselves amongst the charred remains of their home.
“I told his father the purpose of our visit and asked permission to do a short devotional service with them,” Mele’ana says.
“When we started to sing ‘We thank thee, O God, for a Prophet,’ we truly felt the spirit present and confirmed God’s love for His children. The sincerity of the prayer offered truly touched our hearts and put everyone in tears.”
She continued: “I was so broken hearted when we arrived to see Tevita and his father outside trying to clean up the ashes and burned remains of their home. I knew in my heart that this was the right thing for us to do.”
Some of the students shared their feelings about their visit to Tevita and his dad:
“Last night I was confused about what I should take to give the family. It came to my mind that it doesn’t matter if it is something small, big, cheap or expensive, but that you tried your best to help. It shows Tevita’s family that this is not the end and that the good Lord loves them. I saw the smiles on their faces, and it reminded me of my family.”
“I hope that what we gave them was a big help to their family. By helping others, we learn to love them as ourselves. I am grateful, and may God bless their family.”
“As we arrived, I just imagined myself in the position that he is in, with such difficulty and struggling to survive. It touched me most when his father said that he is grateful that Tevita has family out of his actual family, meaning us, his computer classmates.”
“Seeing my classmates’ willingness to help him really touched my heart. It showed the love of a family we had in our class. No matter how big our help was to Tevita Lei, that didn’t matter, but what mattered was that our classmates were willing to give a helping hand to our dearest brother. We will never leave anyone behind.”
“I know that Tevita’s dad was so excited and grateful for what we have been able to do. He said that now he can feel that ‘there is a family for his son that still cares about him.’ Everyone in this life is my family.”
“The moment I saw this brother, my heart and soul filled with the spirit of love. I appreciated my teacher for the great spirit that inspired us as a computer class to visit our beloved classmate Ti Lei. I felt the love that Jesus had for His children.”
Mele’ana summarized her thoughts about this experience: “I am grateful for the opportunity to reach out with our class to Tevita. What has happened this morning was a great start of our day. The acts of kindness, working together, love, empathy, and service, does reflect who they really are. They are sons and daughters of Heavenly Father.”
“As I came back to my classroom and reflected on my students and the goodness and mercy of God for His children, the scripture in Alma 26:37 (The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ) came to mind:
“Now my brethren, we see that God is mindful of every people, whatsoever land they may be in; yea, he numbereth his people, and his bowels of mercy are over all the earth. Now this is my joy, and my great thanksgiving; yea, and I will give thanks unto my God forever.”

About halfway through my last year of high school, the school counselor was calculating my credit hours. After pulling up my class schedule, she turned to me and said, “If you want to graduate from high school, you cannot take seminary during the school day.”
I was shocked. I felt like I was standing at the end of a street looking at two roads, both of which I wanted to take: graduating from high school and taking seminary. I had been looking forward to graduating for a long time. Should I drop seminary so I could get the credit needed to graduate?
I left the counselor’s office feeling upset and frustrated. When I got home I went to my room and got down on my knees. I told my Heavenly Father that I wanted to take seminary very much, but I also wanted to graduate from high school. After praying, I felt calm. I didn’t know how things were going to work out, but I knew everything would be okay.
The next day I was back in the counselor’s room looking at possible class choices. One class caught my eye—Peer Tutoring. I had talked to people who had taken this class and liked it, so I decided to enroll.
On my first day in Peer Tutoring, the teacher went over basic classroom procedures. We would be helping special-needs students do schoolwork. The teacher said some of us would be going with these students to their classes so we could help them. She began to assign us to different students that we would work with. Then she asked, “Are any of you willing to take Tony to seminary?”
“For what church?” asked one of the students.
“For the LDS Church,” she answered.
I was the only Latter-day Saint student in the room, so I was assigned to Tony. At that moment I realized that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer. For the next three months, I went to seminary with Tony and got to partake of the Spirit. I was also able to graduate from both seminary and high school.
I know my experience was not just pure luck. My Heavenly Father heard my prayer and answered it. This experience has taught me that prayer works and is a powerful tool in our lives.

I am grateful to the Lord that my temple memories extend back even to young boyhood. I remember so well, as a little boy, coming in from the field and approaching the old farm house in Whitney, Idaho. I could hear my mother singing “Have I done any good in the world today?” (Hymns, 1985, no. 223).
In my mind’s eye, I can still see her bending over the ironing board with newspapers on the floor, ironing long strips of white cloth, with beads or perspiration on her forehead. When I asked her what she was doing, she said, “These are temple robes, my son.”
Then she put the old flatiron on the stove, drew a chair close to mine, and told me about temple work—how important it is to be able to go to the temple and participate in the sacred ordinances performed there. She also expressed her fervent hope that someday her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren would have the opportunity to enjoy these priceless blessings.

When I was baptized, I was very excited to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. At the same time, I remember being extremely anxious about joining a church where I didn’t know anyone besides the missionaries who had taken their time to teach me about the restored Church and the Book of Mormon. I was living in Austria at the time. I got to know a few members in the Church but at that time I had not really made strong connections with anyone. My first Sunday as a new convert was truly blessed as the young missionary who had convinced to come to church sat by my side translating what was being said as my German was still poor. The sacrament meeting left me with so much peace in my heart as I felt an understanding of the message of the day. I was introduced to Sister Toni who smiled and sat next to me during Sunday School and Relief Society meetings.
After church she invited me to her home for lunch and I met with the rest of her family. This family became my first friends in the church, they always picked me up for church activities. Through them I began to know more and more about the gospel and every Sunday I looked forward to going to church. Other Church members were equally friendly.

As my final story today, I want to tell you about a time this summer when I felt true joy, brimming over and impossible to contain.
My son Tate is fifteen years old, and he practices the piano about three to four hours per day on school days and closer to six hours per day during the summer. This past spring he set a goal to play with the Utah Symphony in their Salute to Youth Concert, which is held each fall. It is a statewide competition that draws some of the best young pianists each year. Tate spent countless hours practicing and refining a fifteen-minute Chopin concerto and eventually submitted his best recording to the judges in late June in hopes that he would be selected to play in the final round of the competition later that summer. The finalists were to be announced the morning of July 20, which happened to be the day that our youth would be pulling handcarts up Rocky Ridge in Wyoming.
Time went by slowly, and we prayed as a family every day that Tate would make it to the final round of the competition. Eventually the youth trek began, and Tate seemed to forget the impending announcement amidst the excitement of pulling a handcart in the 95-degree Wyoming sun, crossing rivers, square dancing, and singing songs with his handcart brothers at the tops of their lungs.
On that Friday morning, soon after we sent our handcart company off toward Rocky Ridge, I received an unexpected text message from Melinda out in the middle of nowhere in Wyoming. Tate had been selected to play in that final round of the competition. I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face, and I couldn’t prevent the tears that came with it. That has to be one of the greatest emotions in the world—tears and smiling at the same time. I still remember the sweetness of how that moment felt and how I couldn’t wait until noon, when I would be able to tell Tate personally. Here’s what I recorded in my pioneer journal that evening about the events of that day:
Because I was taking lunches to the trekkers today, I got to catch up to Tate after he hiked Rocky Ridge. He looked so good coming into the break area, so strong and pure. After he had eaten[lunch], I asked him to come talk with me. I walked with him just a little ways from everyone so we could be alone, and I asked him if he was ready to hear the decision. He looked [very] concerned, and he said he wasn’t sure he wanted to know because he didn’t want to ruin the rest of his trek. I just looked at him in the eye, and I said, “You won’t be disappointed.” His look registered complete disbelief at what he had just heard. So I clarified, “Tate, you get to play in the final round of the competition.” His face was an expression of pure joy, and he couldn’t contain it. He reached out to me and hugged me like he has never hugged me before. He was in tears with joy. He even picked me up and swung me around, he was so excited. He walked off a little ways and just looked over the plains. He couldn’t contain all that joy. He was so adorable to watch with his friends as they found out. Tate just kept smiling and crying. I experienced true joy for those precious minutes.

Every Sunday in a small town in Argentina, a group of people met under a tree to read the scriptures and learn about the gospel. Some of the people were members of the Church. But many of them hadn’t been baptized, and they really wanted to be!
They had a problem, though. They lived far away from other towns. No Church leaders had come to visit their town for some time.
Then they heard that some missionaries were in a town about four hours away. They all gave money so one man could buy a bus ticket to the town where the missionaries were. When he got there, he waited at the bus station. He thought that would be the best place to find the missionaries.
After a few hours, he saw two young men. They were the missionaries! He told them about the people in his town. So the missionaries and the mission president planned a trip to meet these people.
On the day that the mission president and the missionaries came, many people gathered together to meet them. Now those who hadn’t been baptized yet could get baptized. After teaching them the lessons, they were ready!
The closest river was very far away, so they pumped water from a well and filled up a portable swimming pool. It took three hours to fill the pool! In all, 27 women, men, and children got baptized that day. They were filled with joy!

In one of those illuminating but sad stories that would be funny if it had not involved something terribly important, Peter Druecker tells us that the czar of Russia in 1914 had ordered a general mobilization to fight the Germans, but then he had second thoughts about it. The czar called in his chief of staff and asked him to halt the mobilization. The general answered, “Your Majesty, this is impossible. There is no plan for calling off the mobilization once it is started.” Perhaps World War I might not have been any different regardless of what the Russians did, but the sweeping events flowing out of the collapse on the Russian front, paving the way for the rise of Bolshevism, deserve to be pondered in the context of that stupid, bureaucratic rigidity.