Gospel Story Finder

Grudges, if left to fester, can become serious maladies. Like a painful ailment they can absorb all of our time and attention. Guy de Maupassant has written an interesting chronicle that illustrates this.

It concerns Master Hauchecome, who on market day went to town. He was afflicted with rheumatism, and as he stumbled along he noticed a piece of string on the ground in front of him. He picked it up and carefully put it in his pocket. He was seen doing so by his enemy, the harness maker.

At the same time it was reported to the mayor that a pocketbook containing money had been lost. It was assumed that what Hauchecome had picked up was the pocketbook, and he was accused of taking it. He vehemently denied the charge. A search of his clothing disclosed only the piece of string, but the slander against him had so troubled him that he became obsessed with it. Wherever he went he bothered to tell people about it. He became such a nuisance that they cried out against him. It sickened him.

“His mind kept growing weaker and about the end of December he took to his bed.
“He passed away early in January, and, in the ravings of [his] death agony, he protested his innocence, repeating:
“‘A little [piece] of string—a little [piece] of string. See, here it is, [Mister Mayor.]’” (See “The Piece of String,” http://www.online-literature.com/Maupassant/270/.)

One night in family home evening, Papa handed Carol Ann a small card with a picture of Jesus and some words on it. “This is your very own scripture,” he explained. “It’s a verse in the Bible, and it says: ‘We love him, because he first loved us.’ Think and pray about the scripture, and try to ‘liken’ it to yourself, as Nephi told us to do when we read in the Book of Mormon this morning.”
On Tuesday, Carol Ann asked Mama to read her the scripture again and again. By lunchtime she had memorized it.
That afternoon, she sat on the front porch in the sun with a kitten on her lap. She gently stroked its fur, and it licked her fingers with a little pink tongue and purred happily.
The kitten loves me, thought Carol Ann. I loved the kitten first, and then the kitten loved me.
On Wednesday, Carol Ann picked up things in Patty’s room. Later Patty gave her a grateful hug.
On Thursday, she dusted all the model cars in Brent’s room, and Brent gave her a happy smile and said, “Thanks.”
On Saturday, Papa washed the car. Carol Ann dried the hubcaps with a soft cloth until they shone. “You are a good helper,” Papa said. “I see that you have been thinking about your scripture all week. You really love people, and they love you back.”
Carol Ann was happy when she went to bed that night. She looked again at the card with the picture of Jesus. She knew that he loved her and that she loved him.

Fear. That pretty much sums up what I felt as I shuffled my feet and tried to avoid the soul-searching gazes of my parents. They weren’t going to like what I had to tell them at all.
I had just returned home for Thanksgiving from my first semester of college. I was telling my parents about my college experiences and new friends. But what started as an enjoyable conversation quickly turned uncomfortable when my mom casually asked the question I had been dreading: “So, how are your grades?”
Frantically, my mind began to dig for lame excuses that might help me out of the mess I was in. How had I let my grades slip so far? I had arrived at college with every intention of studying hard and doing well. But then I discovered that for the first time in my life, no one was looking over my shoulder telling me what to do. Parents that were 400 miles away meant no curfew, no chores, and no rules. I took advantage of this newfound freedom and was quickly in the habit of staying up late at night with my roommates. My life was filled with late-night movies, late-night trips to get ice cream, and late-night talks and games with roommates.
After this late-night fun, I was in no mood to wake up for early-morning classes. When my alarm blared at 6:30 a.m., I would hit the trusty snooze button and burrow deeper under the covers. I missed class a lot, but what did it matter—college teachers didn’t take roll anyway.
All of this explained why I was now sitting in front of my parents, shuffling my feet and afraid to meet their gaze. Instead of asking for forgiveness like I should have, I chose to get angry. I looked my parents in the eyes and said defiantly: “My grades aren’t good right now. But I think it’s unfair of both of you to expect me to spend all of my time at college studying. Are you trying to keep me from having fun?”
My mom looked at me and said, “It was really hard for us when you left home, but we let you go because we knew you needed an education. It’s good to have fun, but you have to remember you are at college for a specific purpose. We have sacrificed a lot so that you can have this experience.”
“Sacrifices? What sacrifices have they given up so I can go to college?” I wondered. And then I remembered. They had agreed to pay half of my tuition. Checks from my mom always arrived in the nick of time to help me meet my monthly rent payment. They were willing to let me leave and go to a strange new place because they knew I would learn from it.
As I listed the sacrifices in my mind one by one, it suddenly hit me—I had been selfish. Not once as I stayed out late or skipped class had I thought about what my parents had given up. I had forgotten what was important, and I was wasting their sacrifice because I wasn’t making the most of my education.
For the first time, I realized just what they had done for me, and I knew I could only make the most of the things they had given up for me by working hard in school.
It wasn’t until later that day that I heard it: a still, small voice in my mind that asked a simple question, “Are you discarding the sacrifice that your Heavenly Father made in allowing His Son to suffer and die to atone for your sins, just as you have been discarding the sacrifice of your earthly parents?”
Suddenly, I remembered all of the days when I had forgotten my purpose on earth. The days when I fell into bed, too tired to say my prayers, and the mornings when I didn’t read my scriptures because I thought it was more important to look nice for school.
It dawned on me that I wasn’t living on earth just to entertain myself. I was here as part of Heavenly Father’s great plan of happiness. The Savior’s sacrifice—the Atonement—was made so that you and I, and all of God’s children, could learn the lessons of earth life. Because of that sacrifice, we have the opportunity to repent and return to live with Heavenly Father again. I want to be able to say that I used my time on earth to learn and grow as He intended.

When a choice plant became root bound and began to deteriorate, a young friend of ours decided to transplant it to a larger container. Carefully he lifted the greenery from its small pot and put it into its larger home, trying to disturb the roots and soil as little as possible. The novice gardener watched and waited. To his dismay, the plant still struggled. Our friend expressed his frustration to an experienced gardener who offered his services. When the plant was placed in the gardener’s hands, he turned the pot upside down, pulled out the plant, shook the soil from the roots, and clipped and pulled all the stragglers from the root system. Replacing the plant into the pot, he vigorously pushed the soil tightly around the plant. Soon the plant took on new life and grew.

Early in their service in Bastia, missionaries had volunteered at the main Catholic hospital, but the monsignor in charge of the hospital declined their service when he learned of their religion. He was reluctant to have different Christian faiths involved in the hospital.
A couple months later, in May 1992, a massive section of a soccer stadium collapsed during a championship match, killing 19 and sending thousands of seriously injured spectators to the hospital.
The casualties overwhelmed the hospital. Injured soccer fans filled rooms and lined the hallways. Some were flown to mainland France for care. The monsignor, desperate for capable volunteers, remembered a card the missionaries had left and called them for help.
For 36 hours, the missionaries ran from task to task, helping with various types of supervised emergency care, such as hanging IV lines, applying tourniquets, cleaning rooms, and moving the injured. They gave priesthood blessings to branch members injured in the collapse.
When the monsignor observed the unflagging efforts of the missionaries, he called them together and led them throughout the hospital, telling the patients that the missionaries were men of God and to let them administer blessings to the wounded.
Brother Thatcher recalls: “We gained the respect and admiration of a high-ranking city official and an important ecclesiastical authority by our service.” It softened hearts and helped eliminate resistance in the community, he said. “This was critical to the success of our proselyting efforts.”

I pursued an education, both undergraduate and a law degree. I was married midway through my legal education. I had my first son the year after I passed the bar. I had babies, and my husband and I loved and nurtured them while we were both working. It was busy, sometimes hectic; we were stretched and sometimes tired. I supported him, and he supported me. Family was, and still is, our top priority. My husband and I sought inspiration in these choices and in the timing. It was what we felt impressed to do. We were trying to let God prevail.
From a financial and professional perspective, it would have made sense to put off having children until I was more established in my career. But in letting the Lord author our stories, we sometimes do things that the world can’t make sense of. I juggled pregnancy, birthing babies, nurturing children, carpools, little league, Church responsibilities, being a supportive spouse, and my professional pursuits. It was a joyful juggle I wouldn’t change. We felt confident in our course because we were letting God prevail.

I love seminary. I have often felt the Spirit there and have left feeling like a better person. On one particular day, however, I not only left feeling the Spirit, but I left with an answer to prayer.
The night before that particular day, I had asked Heavenly Father if the Church was true. After my prayer, I felt peaceful, but I was still not sure. I decided I would sleep on it.
The next day, my seminary teacher started the lesson with a video of some of the General Authorities bearing their testimonies. I felt the Spirit burning inside of me as we talked about testimonies and how little things can strengthen them.
He then put in another video of testimonies of kids who went to my school. I stared at the screen waiting for someone I knew. I saw some people I recognized, but I saw no close friends.
Then it happened. A girl I look up to so much appeared on the screen. As I looked into her eyes, she bore her testimony about Christ’s Atonement. Then she said these words: “I know this Church is true.” The Spirit overcame me. I realized my prayer was answered, and it was answered by one of the people that I look up to the most.
Heavenly Father knew that I needed to hear someone very close to me share her testimony of the Church. I am so grateful for the strong testimonies my friends have. Heavenly Father does answer our prayers.

“I want to tell all the members of the Church that I loved my mission very much,” said Cambodian member Eng Bun Huoch, who was baptized on October 25, 1998. He served a mission in Phnom Penh two years later. “Serving a mission is not easy, but it is worth it. I can’t describe how important and profitable it was to my life. My two-year mission instilled in me leadership skills and teaching skills and showed me how to be a better friend, son, and member.”
After returning home on July 17, 2002, Elder Huoch was able to find a job that improved his quality of life. His testimony had been strengthened, and he felt better prepared to deal with the challenges of life.
“I thank the Lord that He brought the gospel to Cambodia before I was too old to serve a mission,” he says. “I would be very sad if I missed the opportunity to do this marvelous work.”

This pattern can be seen in the life of Jasmine B. of Washington, USA, who received help in coping with a disease. Before contracting the disease, she was a healthy young woman who excelled on her high school track team and loved getting up early for seminary.
Then she started feeling ill. She lost 15 pounds very quickly, and no matter how much sleep she got, it became harder and harder to get up for seminary. She couldn’t run as well as she used to and was hungry, thirsty, and weak all the time.
Over a month went by before she started to pray for help. “I held off so long,” she says, “because the thought of praying for help was an act of submission, admitting that something was indeed wrong with me. It scared me.”
But because she humbled herself to seek the Lord’s help, answers started to come. She went to see a doctor, who discovered she had developed type 1 diabetes, which meant her body could not produce insulin to process sugar. Diabetes has lifelong consequences and must be carefully monitored. Even as the doctors developed a plan to help her manage her condition, she began to worry that she would not be able to continue running track.
“I never ceased to pray as I struggled to understand my new life and to control my disease,” she says. “I prayed for strength and understanding and that I would be able to accept this trial. I would not have made it through those hard days and weeks without prayer.”
Jasmine made incredible strides. Within two weeks of being diagnosed, she was back practicing on the track, and later that year she did well in state competitions. “I believe Heavenly Father has blessed me with a strong, healthy body,” she says. “Having diabetes was not the end of the world. With His help, I knew I could get through this.”
By the grace of God and through her dependence on Him, Jasmine is able to cope with her disease and have wonderful successes in her life.

Nathan ate his breakfast and smiled. Mother kept thanking Heavenly Father. She thanked Him for morning, for sunshine, for a blue sky.
“Mother, you thanked Heavenly Father three times!” he giggled.
“Three times? No wonder I’m happy. Thanking Heavenly Father for His gifts makes me very happy!”
Nathan stared at Mother. Her eyes sparkled; her lips curved up. She was happy! “I want to be happy, too!” he cried.
“Thank Heavenly Father, and you will be happy!” Mother told him.
“OK.” Nathan thanked Heavenly Father for the birds he heard chirping in the bush near the kitchen window. He smiled. Mother was right! Thanking Heavenly Father did make him happy!
The rest of the morning he thanked Heavenly Father for many things: the backyard with the swing in it; the apple tree that had pretty white blossoms now, and later would have good apples; Grandma’s dog, Lady; kittens and fish; the moon and stars; his playmates, Tom and Chris; and his new bike. Nathan was very, very happy!
At noon Mother said, “Lunchtime, happy Nathan!”
Nathan laughed. He was happy! He was hungry, too. And when he bowed his head to thank Heavenly Father for the good food, Nathan also said, “And I thank Thee for making me happy!”

I was only three years old and did not want to leave the hospital, where my parents were recuperating after the car accident.
Photograph courtesy of the author; photograph corners form Getty Images
I struggled for many years with trauma and anxiety associated with a car accident that my parents and I were involved in when I was three. My unborn brother did not survive.
On the 25th anniversary of the accident, I had a flashback. Several months later, I was still struggling when a friend suggested that I turn to my Heavenly Father. I laughed and then asked, “What is He going to do for me?”
My struggles continued. After another year or two, I was tired of hurting and my pain was turning to anger. I took my friend’s advice and began to turn to God.
“If You are really there, send someone—anyone,” I prayed. “I need someone!”
The day came and went as I stood in my doorway, waiting in vain.
“See, God, nobody cares!” I said. “Nobody came!”
As tears rolled down my face, I slowly entered the house and shut the door. I walked up the stairs feeling defeated. But when I reached the top of the stairs, a powerful feeling came over me. It was so strong that it dropped me to my knees.
Then this thought came into my mind: “ReNae, I have been carrying you.”
Heavenly Father sent that powerful thought to me in a tender way when I needed it most. I realized that He does love me and that He does know me. He loves me so much that He has given me moral agency. He will not force me or anyone else to follow Him, but He and His Son invite us to come unto Them (see Matthew 11:28–30).
Since that day, I know that I can rely on Him. My life is better now because I strive to follow Him and to hear Him every day. While Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ allow me to feel pain, They also bring me peace, comfort, strength, and courage so that I can learn from doing hard things. Feeling pain helps me to understand and support others who are struggling.
We may never completely know what others are going through, but we can show love to those around us. I am grateful I know that my Heavenly Father loves me and listens to me when I call upon Him.

When I was in fifth grade, nobody else in my neighborhood or my school was LDS. And after church on Sundays, I’d play video games and watch TV with my friends.
After I finished fifth grade, I moved to a different state. My first day there was a Saturday. I met a kid named Alex. I hung out with him through the evening. When he had to go home, I asked him if he could hang out the next day. He said it was Sunday and he couldn’t hang out. I decided to follow Alex’s example by keeping the Sabbath day holy.
The next day I went to church, came home, and replaced my video-game time with reading time. That night I knew Heavenly Father was proud of me. And I thought about how proud of Alex He must be too for being a good example. Ever since then, I have kept the Sabbath day holy.

Gift of memories. My parents were struggling to start a new business the year I was 15, and money was scarce in our family. They believed in making the best of difficult circumstances, so we took a day trip to the land my dad was leasing to cut an evergreen desert bush for our Christmas tree and to enjoy a winter picnic together in the snow with homemade chili and hot chocolate.
My two sisters and I decided to put our money together to buy Mom and Dad something to lift their spirits. We bought a photo album and supplies, went home, and filled it with family pictures, starting with their wedding portrait. We had a wonderful time laughing and reminiscing together as we put our favorite photos in the album.
We each had one small present to open on Christmas morning, but it didn’t matter when we watched our parents’ eyes light up as they opened their gift. It was a memorable Christmas filled with love, laughter, and unity.Sally O., Utah

When our son Nathan turned two and a half, we began using occasional time-outs as a consequence for breaking family rules. I became concerned, however, by the negative feelings my son displayed when a time-out concluded. He often seemed sad and discouraged. As I prayed for a way to make the experience more positive, I felt impressed to say the phrase “Let’s try again.”
After the next time-out, I took my son’s hand and said with enthusiasm, “Let’s try again!” Suddenly the focus shifted away from his negative behavior and centered instead on the opportunity he had to start over. I was amazed at the difference this approach made. Instead of coming out of time-out feeling punished, he was eager to make better choices.
I soon started using the phrase in a multitude of situations. I found myself inviting Nathan in lots of ways: “Let’s try again! This time we can do better. This time we can be gentle” or “This time we can be kind.”
The saying became such a motivator for my son that during a time-out he often called to me, “Mommy, I am ready to try again!”
As I pondered the dramatic effect this simple phrase had on my son, I considered the power contained in the words “Let’s try again!” I realized that God, the Father of us all, does not want us to dwell hopelessly on the mistakes we have made. Instead, He invites us to sincerely repent and focus on a brighter future where we can improve each day. To make repentance possible, God was even willing to offer the life of His Beloved Son. His promise is: “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool” (Isaiah 1:18).
Watching my son’s renewed determination to do better, I felt a surge of gratitude for a loving Father in Heaven, who is merciful to His children when they repent. I also felt a deep appreciation for the Savior, whose infinite Atonement makes it possible for each of us to say, “Let’s try again!”

There is one last scene I would call up for you from my journal. The sobering realities of our present Middle East involvement, where many of our people are in threatening conditions, make this memory particularly pertinent and particularly appreciated. I read it as I wrote it in Nha Trang, Vietnam, in May 1967:
“There was a memorable meeting this morning, which began with a senior military chaplain of another church addressing us warmly as ‘My brothers in Christ.’ This touched me deeply, and the meeting that went along was consistent with his gentle beginning.
“It was a very special, tender meeting; the Spirit was strong.
“It was uncomfortably warm in the room where we met. There were two ancient air conditioners, but they were ineffective. In fact, we discovered when we finally opened the door that it was cooler outside than in. Notwithstanding this, a great spirit was felt and a sweet experience enjoyed.
“Outside the room after the meeting, I walked quietly down the passageway alongside the large room where we had met. As I passed the back door, I looked in and saw a kind of human barrier that had been set up to separate the many young men who were lingering in the front part of the room from a few who were in the back. Three men had their hands on the head of another who sat on a chair. All four were dressed in battle gear; two had returned from air strikes to the north just in time for the meeting, and one was shortly to go. The three members of the district presidency were giving a blessing to an officer senior to them all, setting him apart as a district missionary.”
For some reason this sweet scene affected me more deeply than any priesthood sermon I have heard. Priesthood to them meant the right and the power to serve, to act in the name of the Lord as his agents and in his interests with their fellowmen. This scene I hope I will never forget.

President Thomas S. Monson
“Christmas time had come. We were preparing for the oven a gigantic turkey and anticipating the savory feast that awaited. A neighborhood pal of mine asked a startling question: ‘What does turkey taste like?’
“I responded, ‘Oh, about like chicken tastes.’
“Again a question: ‘What does chicken taste like?’
“It was then that I realized that my friend had never eaten chicken or turkey. I asked what his family was going to have for Christmas dinner. There was no prompt response—just a downcast glance and the comment, ‘I dunno. There’s nothing in the house.’
“I pondered a solution. There was none. I had no turkeys, no chickens, no money. Then I remembered I did have two pet rabbits. Immediately I took my friend by the hand and rushed to the rabbit hutch, placed the rabbits in a box, and handed the box to him with the comment, ‘Here, take these two rabbits. They’re good to eat—just like chicken.’
“He took the box, climbed the fence, and headed for home, a Christmas dinner safely assured. Tears came easily to me as I closed the door to the empty rabbit hutch. But I was not sad. A warmth, a feeling of indescribable joy, filled my heart. It was a memorable Christmas.
“Heavenly Father is ever mindful of those who need, who seek, who trust, who pray, and who listen when He speaks. ‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life’ (John 3:16). God’s gift becomes our blessing. May every heart open wide and welcome him—Christmas day and always.”1

“At one tournament I met a soccer player from another state who wanted to know why I wouldn’t play on Sunday,” Jodi said. “That opened the way for me to tell him about the gospel. When he went home, we began writing letters to each other. I sent him a Book of Mormon. That was a little frightening for me. I didn’t know how he would react. But he read it and wanted to know more. So I sent him some Church pamphlets, and after a while he decided to be baptized.

I remember a particular period of my life when I was under unusual stress. There were troubles with my employment, and at the same time, my wife was diagnosed with a life-threatening illness. This was one of those times when it felt like the adversary had mounted a frontal assault against me and my family. On days when the stresses and anxieties of our tumultuous life were about to get the best of us, my wife and I found a way to relieve them.
We drove to a place just a few miles from our home to get away for a few moments of relief from our troubles, talk, and give emotional comfort to each other. Our place was Walden Pond. It was a beautiful little pond surrounded by forests of trees. When my wife was feeling strong enough, we’d go for a walk around the pond. Other days, when she did not feel up to the exertion of walking, we’d just sit in the car and talk. Walden Pond was our special place to pause, reflect, and heal. Perhaps it was partly due to its history—its connection to the efforts of Henry David Thoreau to separate himself from worldliness for a period of years—that Walden Pond offered us so much hope for simplicity and provided such a renewing escape from our overly complex lives.

At one time or another each of us will be called to fill a position in the Church, whether as a deacons quorum president, a teachers quorum secretary, a priesthood adviser, a class teacher, a bishop. I could name more, but you get the picture. I was just 22 years of age when I was called to be the bishop of the Sixth-Seventh Ward in Salt Lake City. With 1,080 members in the ward, a great deal of effort was required to make certain that every matter which needed to be handled was taken care of and every member of the ward felt included and watched over. Although the assignment was monumental in scope, I did not let it overwhelm me. I went to work, as did others, and did all I could to serve. Each of us can do the same, regardless of the calling or assignment.
Just last year I decided to see how many residential dwellings were still standing from the period between 1950 and 1955 when I served as bishop of that same area. I drove slowly around each of the blocks that once comprised the ward. I was surprised to observe in my search that of all the houses and apartment buildings where our 1,080 members had lived, only three dwellings were still standing. At one of those houses, the grass was overgrown, the trees unpruned, and I found no one was living there. Of the other two houses remaining, one was boarded up and unoccupied, and the other housed some sort of a modest business office.
I parked my car, turned off the ignition, and just sat there for a long while. I could picture in my mind each house, each apartment building, each member who lived there. While the homes and the buildings were gone, the memories were still very vivid concerning the families who resided in each dwelling. I thought of the words of the author James Barrie, who wrote that God gave us memories that we might have June roses in the December of our lives. How grateful I was for the opportunity to serve in that assignment. Such can be the blessing of each of us if we put forth in our assignments our very best efforts.

Many faithful Latter-day Saints have demonstrated that they are “settled” in keeping their covenants with God and are forever changed. Let me tell you about three such individuals—Brother Banza Mucioko, Sister Banza Régine, and Brother Mbuyi Nkitabungi.

In 1977 the Banzas lived in Kinshasa in the country of Zaire, now known as the Democratic Republic of the Congo. They were highly respected in their Protestant church community. Because of their talents, their church arranged for their young family to go to Switzerland to study and provided a university scholarship.

While in Geneva, on the bus route to school, Brother Banza frequently saw a small meetinghouse with the name “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” He wondered, “Does Jesus Christ have Saints now, in the latter days?” He eventually decided to go and see.

Brother and Sister Banza were greeted warmly at the branch. They asked some of the persistent questions they had about the nature of God, such as, “If God is a spirit, like the wind, how could we be created in His likeness? How could He sit on a throne?” They had never received a satisfactory answer until the missionaries explained restored doctrine in a brief lesson. When the missionaries left, the Banzas looked at each other and said, “Isn’t this the truth that we have heard?” They continued coming to church and meeting with the missionaries. They knew that baptism in the restored Church of Jesus Christ would have consequences. They would be stripped of their scholarships, their visas would be revoked, and they and their two young children would be required to leave Switzerland. They chose to be baptized and confirmed in October 1979.

Two weeks after their baptism, Brother and Sister Banza returned to Kinshasa as the first and second members of the Church in their country. The members of the Geneva Branch stayed in contact with them and helped them connect with Church leaders. The Banzas were encouraged to faithfully await the promised time when God would establish His Church in Zaire.

Meanwhile, another exchange student from Zaire, Brother Mbuyi, was studying in Belgium. He was baptized in 1980 in the Brussels Ward. Soon thereafter, he served a full-time mission to England. And God worked His miracles. Brother Mbuyi returned to Zaire as the third member of the Church in his country. With parental permission, Church meetings were held in his family home. In February 1986 a petition was made for official government recognition of the Church. The signatures of three citizens of Zaire were required. The three happy signatories of the petition were Brother Banza, Sister Banza, and Brother Mbuyi.

These stalwart members knew the truth when they heard it; they made a covenant at baptism that anchored them to the Savior. They metaphorically threw their old ways into a churning waterfall with no intention of retrieving them. The covenant path was never easy. Political turmoil, infrequent contact with Church leaders, and challenges inherent in building a community of Saints might have deterred less-committed individuals. But Brother and Sister Banza and Brother Mbuyi persevered in their faith. They were present at the dedication of the Kinshasa Temple, 33 years after they signed the petition that led to the official recognition of the Church in Zaire.

The Banzas are here in the Conference Center today. They are accompanied by their two sons, Junior and Phil, and daughters-in-law, Annie and Youyou. In 1986, Junior and Phil were the first two individuals baptized into the Church in Zaire. Brother Mbuyi is watching these proceedings from Kinshasa with his wife, Maguy, and their five children.

These pioneers understand the meaning and consequences of covenants through which they have been brought “to the knowledge of the Lord their God, and to rejoice in Jesus Christ their Redeemer.”