Gospel Story Finder

When my oldest daughter Debanie was in fourth grade, she had a big field trip scheduled for her Idaho History studies. She invited me to go with her. She was excited for me to ride the bus with her for the hour-long ride to Massacre Rocks. When we boarded, we walked to the middle of the bus and sat down. I noticed a young man in the seat in front of us. He was by himself and even asked a few passing students if they wanted to sit with him. No one was mean, but they all politely declined and found other seats. It was like a sad scene from a movie--the lonely boy that no one would sit by. I could tell that he was sad and felt a little awkward all alone. I said to Debanie, "Hey would it be ok if I sat with Brian for a bit of the trip?" Her answer surprised me. She didn't say yes, she said, "I will sit with him." She moved up a seat and sat with Brian. What I saw was amazing. Not only did she sit with him, but she started to visit with him, they started giggling and laughing and having fun. I saw this lonely, sad boy change. His eyes shined, he had a smile on his face. I was taught by my ten year old daughter. She, just like the Savior, loved someone in need. She did not hesitate or make excuses of why she couldn't. She just automatically did the right thing and was truly an example of our faith.

Bryan’s favorite family home evening lesson was one his mom gave on repentance. She hid paper footprints around the house. Each footprint had a step of repentance written on it. The children first had to find the hidden steps. “I found some and let Rachel find some,” Bryan recalls. Then the family talked about each one and put them in order on the floor. Then each person walked on the footprints, naming the steps of repentance as he or she went.

“I want to be a missionary. I’ve been reading the scriptures to prepare.”

Bryan knows that all Latter-day Saints have been called to be a light to the world and that his home is a “lighthouse” for neighbors and friends. His family is looking forward to going to yet another house of light—the holy temple—where they will be sealed for time and eternity. They want all the light they can get.

I have indicated that he occasionally, deliberately, knowingly, put men to a test, almost as if he could discern the spiritual growth and blessing that would ultimately result. Bishop Edwin D. Woolley was a forbear of President Spencer W. Kimball. He was a stubborn man (he himself said it)—contrary was the word they used in those days. It was said of him, “If he dies by drowning, look for the body upstream.” Edwin D. Woolley had a store in Nauvoo, and one day the Prophet said to him, “Brother Woolley, we want all your goods for the building up of the kingdom of God,” or words to that effect. Brother Woolley did as he was asked, packing his whole stock ready to be moved. Then he went to ask Joseph what he wished him to do about the goods he had received for sale on commission. Was he ready to hand all the other goods over to the Church? the Prophet asked. Brother Woolley said he was. His eyes moist, the Prophet put his hand on the other man’s shoulder and said, “The Lord bless you. Put them back on the shelves.”

Morningsides were our seminary’s version of firesides. They were really early in the morning, but I was always glad I went.
At one of those early morning meetings, the speaker gave each of us a penny as we entered the chapel. We held the pennies throughout his talk, and at the end he challenged us to put our pennies in our shoes. His suggestion, at first, sounded like one of those things people do for good luck, like keeping a rabbit’s foot in your pocket. But then he explained his strange request.
The speaker asked us to pray every time we felt the pennies in our shoes. It didn’t sound too hard, but when I got up I realized that a penny in your shoe is only slightly less annoying than a rock in your shoe. Still, I decided to take the challenge.
During the day at school, the penny would slide around as I walked. And when I felt it, I remembered to offer a silent prayer. I forgot about the challenge after I took my shoes off until I wore those shoes again later in the week. I didn’t take the penny out but decided to pray again throughout that day. My day went so well I decided to put a penny in every pair of shoes I owned.
Those pennies changed me. Their effect was much better than good luck. They taught me how to pray and communicate with my Heavenly Father. Now I know how it feels to pray without ceasing and to always have a prayer in my heart (see Alma 34:27; 3 Ne. 19:24, 30).
I don’t keep pennies in my shoes anymore. After a few months, I didn’t need the reminder to thank Heavenly Father for my many blessings or to ask for His help when I needed it. I feel like I know Him better now, and I know He is always there to listen to and answer my prayers.

One of the most beautiful and tender accounts of brotherly love, concern, and devotion took place in Carthage Jail on the afternoon of the martyrdom. “The afternoon was sultry and hot. The four brethren [Joseph and Hyrum Smith, John Taylor, and Willard Richards] sat listlessly about the room with their coats off; and the windows of the prison were open to receive such air as might be stirring. Late in the afternoon Mr. Stigall, the jailor, came in and suggested that [in view of threats made by the radical and bloodthirsty mob] they would be safer in the cells. Joseph told him that they would go in after supper. Turning to Elder Richards the Prophet said: ‘If we go into the cell will you go with us?’”

Elder Richards answered, “Brother Joseph, you did not ask me to cross the river with you [referring to the time when they crossed the Mississippi, en route for the Rocky Mountains]—you did not ask me to come to Carthage—you did not ask me to come to jail with you—and do you think I would forsake you now? But I will tell you what I will do; if you are condemned to be hung for ‘treason,’ I will be hung in your stead, and you shall go free.”

With considerable emotion and feeling Joseph replied, “But you cannot,” to which Brother Richards firmly replied, “I will.” (B. H. Roberts, A Comprehensive History of the Church, vol. 2, p. 283.)

I grew up in American Samoa as one of 13 siblings. All of us lived in a small three-bedroom home in the village of Leone. Christmas was always special for our family—it was a time to reflect on the birth and Atonement of Jesus Christ and a time to serve and give.
One Christmas season, after working hard and saving up, my parents bought each one of us a gift and placed them under the tree. We were so excited!
But before Christmas arrived, my older brother woke us up one morning with devastating news: Every single present had been stolen. Someone had broken in during the night and taken them all.
From that heartbreaking experience, a new tradition was born. Every Christmas after that, we’d sleep around the Christmas tree to protect our gifts.
As funny and tragic as that memory is, it taught me more than to be cautious about Christmas gifts—it reminded me how important it is to safeguard and prioritize our covenant relationship with Heavenly Father.

Cyrena felt that there was a larger purpose in her joining the Church and moving to Zion. Yet moving to Missouri meant leaving her family. She would not see most of her family again, but she trusted that the restored gospel would offer salvation and eternal connections. She wrote in her autobiography, “I was strongly impressed that my going was not only for my own salvation, but for that of the family also.” It was not until years later in Nauvoo when she learned about baptisms for the dead and the ability to do proxy work for her family. She recalled, “It was a source of great satisfaction to me to know that I stood in a position to do a work for them which would give them the privilege of accepting in the spirit world the gospel, which was neglected in this.”6

Alexander was sitting in his car in American Samoa when we talked over the phone. I was astonished as he told me about how he gave up his full-ride football scholarship to serve a mission. After returning home, he felt guided to help with his family’s business and marry his sweetheart in the temple. Only then did he feel prompted to finish his education, and BYU–Pathway was the perfect solution for him.
When Alexander told me he had enrolled and withdrawn from school twice because of a hurricane and then because of a house fire, I was shocked. He had chosen to serve the Lord for two years before pursuing his education and was then faced with significant adversity—yet he persisted. When I asked him how he kept moving forward, he mentioned the story of Nephi getting the plates from Jerusalem. Even though Nephi did what God asked, it still took him and his brothers three tries to be successful. But Nephi never lost faith, because God had promised to provide a way for Him (see 1 Nephi 3–4).
Alexander taught me that everything in life is subject to change except for our loving Heavenly Father. As President Nelson also taught: “The Lord never slumbers, nor does He sleep [see Psalm 121:4]. He ‘is the same yesterday, today and [tomorrow]’ [Mormon 9:9]. He will not forsake His covenants, His promises, or His love for His people.”2
I truly know now that no matter what changes I face, His commandments, blessings, and love are unwavering and eternal. Alexander taught me that if I set my path toward God and Jesus Christ and rely on Them, I will be able to face the uncertain future with hope and faith.

Later, Grandpa became the owner of a roadside cafe. At Christmas time he gave the widows in our town a supply of coal and groceries. Grandpa took very seriously the admonition of Christ to visit the widows and fatherless in their affliction. In fact, no one who came to him for help was ever turned away. One cold winter’s day, a couple with five young children came to the cafe. Despite the freezing weather, they wore only lightweight summer clothing.
The family was travelling through to another state where a job had been promised. Their car had broken down, and they had walked many kilometers into town through the snow. Grandma fixed them a hot meal in the cafe while Grandpa drove the father to town and bought winter clothing for all of them. Then he paid for a mechanic to tow in the car and repair it. The next morning, as the family prepared to leave, Grandpa pressed a helpful amount of money into the father’s hand. The man cried and embraced Grandpa, asking God to bless him.

“You can’t have two best friends,” Cob Colt said.
“You have to pick between us,” Sorrel said.
Pinto shook his spotted head. “I like both of you. You’re both my best friends.”
The three young horses cropped grass in the warm meadow until their bellies were full. Cob Colt twitched his black tail and looked around at the older horses. It was all very well to eat until you were full, but then what could you do? He thought it would be fun to splatter through the mud puddle and swim in the brook. But that wouldn’t take all day. What else could he do? He thought and thought, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do.
Sorrel twitched her red-brown ears. She heard birds singing in the walnut tree in the middle of the meadow. She stopped chewing and watched the birds chase each other in and out of the branches. We could do that, she thought. We could play tag and hide behind the older horses. She knew that that would be fun, but it would not be a whole day of fun. What else could she do? She thought and thought, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do.
Pinto looked along the fence. Near the driveway was a pile of raked leaves and windfall apples. Windfall apples were sweet and juicy to eat, but Pinto wasn’t hungry—he had just filled his belly with grass. He needed to play before he got hungry again. His mind was so full of windfall apples, though, that he couldn’t think of a game to play.
Cob Colt thought, I can prove I am Pinto’s best friend.I’ll tell him my idea. He’ll like it so much that I’ll be his best friend. So Cob Colt told Pinto, “Let’s splatter through the mud puddle and swim in the brook.”
“That’s a great idea!” Pinto exclaimed.
Cob Colt shook his black mane and waggled his black tail happily. “I’m Pinto’s best friend,” he said. “I thought of what to do.”
Sorrel wasn’t happy at first, but she followed Pinto and Cob Colt to the mud puddles. When she began to splatter mud, she had to admit that Cob Colt’s idea was a good one.
Soon the three horses were covered in mud, then clean again after swimming in the brook.
“Now what shall we do?” Cob Colt asked.
“I’m hungry now,” Pinto said. “Let’s go eat the windfall apples by the fence.”
The three horses galloped across the meadow and feasted on the sweet, juicy apples until they were full. But the day was not yet over. The sun still shone brightly. What could they do now?
Sorrel remembered her idea. “Why don’t we play tag and hide behind the bigger, older horses?”
Sorrel stood behind the walnut tree while the others hid in the meadow. She counted slowly to twenty-five. Then she began to look. It was hard to find a little horse hiding behind a big one. You had to creep around the meadow quietly until you came up right behind them.
Cob Colt wasn’t happy at first, but he ran behind Old Gray. It was hard to stand perfectly still. If the big horse moved, he had to move with it, and that was lots of fun. He had to admit that Sorrel’s idea was a good one.
Pinto, Cob Colt, and Sorrel played tag until the sun set.
“This has been a wonderful day,” Cob Colt said. “I liked playing tag and eating windfall apples.”
“I liked splattering mud and eating windfall apples,” Sorrel said.
“Now do you understand?” Pinto asked them. “We had three good things to do today.”
Cob Colt nodded. “If Sorrel wasn’t here, we would only have splattered mud and eaten. We would have been bored all afternoon.”
Sorrel said, “And if Cob Colt wasn’t here, we would only have eaten and played tag. We would have been bored all morning.”
“That’s why I’m glad I have two best friends,” Pinto said.
Pinto, Cob Colt, and Sorrel ate their dinner under the stars. Each of them was glad that on the next day, there would be two best friends to share it with.

Six months after my mission, I held my mother’s hand as she took her last breath. Decades later, my wife, Lisa, found a letter from my parents in an old box. Dad had written it to me during my mission but died before sending it.
“Our hearts were and are and always will be full of love for you. I realize that things have not always been perfect, but that is life. … Christ did not say, ‘Follow me and it will be easy.’ He said, ‘Take up [your] cross, and follow me’ [Matthew 16:24]. He carried the cross, but we all have our splinters. Perhaps our place in heaven will depend upon how we handle ours. Son, we love you very much.”
Growing up, I was rough on my parents, but I never doubted their love. Since finding the Church, I have worked hard to thank them and honor them.

Did you ever have to take care of a grown-up? I’ve done it many times. Every Saturday my sister and I take turns going to my grandmother’s house. Grandma has dementia, which means she forgets a lot. Because her condition has been getting worse, she can’t be left alone. A few years ago, she was taking me to the store. Now I take her. But I don’t mind. I love Grandma, and we still have a lot of fun together.
Today was my turn to be with Grandma. She shuffled into the living room. “How do I look?” she asked. “You didn’t have to help me get dressed today.”
Grandma’s red jacket didn’t really match her bright pink blouse and brown pants, but I was happy she had been able to dress herself. “You always look good to me, Grandma.”
Grandma smiled. “So, where are we walking today?”
“The shoe store. Mom said you need new walking shoes.”
“Oh,” she said. “Can we go to the doughnut store too?”
“Sure,” I said, smiling. Going to the doughnut store was the one thing Grandma never forgot to do.
Half an hour later, Grandma sat patiently as the shoe salesman helped her try on her new shoes. When the salesman went to find a different size, Grandma whispered, “You know, Noreen, I think these shoes are ugly.”
“You’ve never complained about them before, Grandma.”
“Well, they’re not as pretty as those,” she insisted, pointing to a pair of high-heeled shoes on display.
“We are supposed to buy walking shoes,” I reminded her. “You can’t wear high heels to go walking.”
Grandma lowered her eyebrows and scrunched her nose, but she didn’t say anything else.
When the salesman returned, Grandma tried on the shoes, stood up, and walked around. “Ah,” she sighed. “My feet feel wonderful in these shoes.”
“So you like them?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said. “Don’t I always like these shoes?”
Sometimes Grandma contradicts herself. But it doesn’t upset me. I know she can’t help it.
After the salesman boxed up the new shoes, he walked to the cash register. I opened my wallet to find the money Mom had given me. “I’ll go pay now, Grandma. I’ll be right back,” I said.
The salesman was very busy, and I had to wait several minutes before I could pay. When I walked back to Grandma’s seat, she was gone. Her old shoes were still lying on the floor. I quickly scanned the store, but I couldn’t see her. I started feeling very nervous. “Has anyone seen my grandmother?” I yelled.
“A woman with a red jacket walked out the door a few minutes ago,” someone said.
I darted out the door. I hoped I’d find Grandma looking at the pretty shoes in the store window, but she wasn’t there. Just then I saw Grandma walking toward me.
“Grandma!” I cried. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I was so worried!”
“I’m sorry, Noreen. You know, I did the silliest thing! Please don’t be angry, dear.”
“I’m not angry,” I said. “I was just scared.” I sat down on a nearby bench.
Grandma looked off in the distance. “After I got outside, I realized I didn’t have any shoes on,” she explained.
“I’m just glad I found you,” I said.
We went back inside for her shoes. As we walked home, I noticed Grandma’s shoulders were slumped and her head was down. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Everything! I hate all this forgetting business,” she said. “But I just can’t help it.”
“You’re doing all right,” I said. “Everybody forgets now and then.”
“Not like this! Forgetting my shoes, forgetting this, forgetting that!”
“You could be doing much worse, you know. For instance, what do you always put on first, your blouse or your jacket?”
Grandma glanced at me with her bright eyes twinkling. “You’re being silly.”
“No, I’m not! Can you imagine if you put your blouse on top of your jacket?”
“Then I’d really be in bad shape, I guess,” Grandma said as she gave my arm a playful nudge.
“Would you like to go for a walk in the park today?” I asked.
“Sure, but can we go to the doughnut store too?”
“Of course.” I held her hand to cross the street. “Don’t we always?”
Like I said, I don’t mind taking care of Grandma. Sometimes it can get a little interesting. But most of the time, we just enjoy each other’s company.

My name is Débora, and my journey with faith has been filled with challenges and blessings. In 1980, shortly after the missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints arrived in the Dominican Republic, I visited a friend who had some missionaries from this new church at his home. The missionaries showed us a powerful movie called “Families Are Forever,” and the concept of eternal families touched me deeply. I was taught more about the gospel, and my friend and I were baptized.

Cherry was 12 years old when her mom died. Cherry was not yet a member of the Church and felt that her life no longer had meaning. She felt broken and sad and alone. She even thought about taking her own life. Then she learned about the gospel, and she is now preparing to be baptized for her mom in the temple. She knows that because the Savior died and was resurrected, we will all be resurrected someday. Death is not the end.

One day after church, our bishop found Brother and Sister Choi at their home sprinkling water on plants and removing weeds from flowerbeds.
“Sister Choi, most of your flowers have not bloomed yet,” the bishop said. “How can you bring fully bloomed flowers every Sabbath?”
She replied, “Each Sunday morning, I look into the garden and ask the flowers, ‘Who wants to please the Lord today?’ Then I feel the flowers shouting, ‘Me, I want to go! It’s my turn.’”

I grew up in a comfortable environment in Logan, Utah. I had no childhood worries about food or shelter or education. But perhaps because life was easy, I needed something to hold on to that would anchor me.
For me that anchor was the priesthood of God. I was in an unusual situation when I was growing up. My dad was called to be the bishop when I was a year old, and he was my bishop for 19 years. His fatherly and spiritual guidance was a tremendous help to me.
I think that is mostly why I looked forward to receiving the Aaronic Priesthood on my 12th birthday. I remember the special day I felt my father’s hands on my head as he ordained me. After that, I advanced through the offices of the Aaronic Priesthood and received callings I enjoyed very much.
Passing the sacrament was very special to me. You could see people commit themselves to obey the Lord and keep His commandments as they partook of the emblems of His body and blood.
As time progressed, I graduated from high school, and then after a year in college, I was called on a mission. I enjoyed every minute of it and loved my companions. One in particular was a strength to me. I learned much from him as we fulfilled our responsibilities.
Because the country was at war, when I returned from my mission I joined the United States Marine Corps. When the war was over, I returned to college, married, and started a family. Successive professional moves took me to many places across the United States, where I learned much as I served in many priesthood callings. I finally landed in Boston, Massachusetts, where I served as a stake president. It was from there that I was called to be an assistant to the Twelve and then, after 17 months, to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
What have I learned as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve?
I’ve learned that there is a guide, an anchor, and a protection in the priesthood.
The priesthood has always existed. Before Adam came to earth, he had the priesthood. As Adam’s posterity scattered with the priesthood, it became necessary to organize how the priesthood was administered. The Lord did that by calling Abraham to preside over his family of priesthood holders. This organization continued under Isaac and Jacob, whose name was later changed to Israel.
Centuries later, the children of Israel found themselves in captivity. The Lord sent Moses to deliver them, but when he did, they proved themselves not ready as a people for the Melchizedek Priesthood. So they were left with the Aaronic Priesthood until the time of the Savior.
I find it very interesting what the Savior did first as He began His ministry. He organized the Melchizedek Priesthood. He called twelve Apostles and taught them the laws and order of the priesthood. He called Peter to be the chief Apostle, establishing a line of authority in His Church. In that day and this, it is Jesus Christ who selects His chief Apostle to preside over the Church, and it is the Savior who directs him in his priesthood duties.
So the priesthood has a direct line from our Lord and Savior through the chief Apostle to the other Apostles and on to the other priesthood holders in the Church. Keys of authority are given to the Apostles, and as long as those keys are on the earth, we will be guided by the Lord Himself. This divine direction protects us and assures us that the Church will not vary from the truth. It will remain consistent because it is not directed by any earthly being. It is directed by the Lord.
The greatest advice I have for you young men is to study the doctrines of the priesthood, understand the power you have in exercising your priesthood, and learn how it can bless your lives and the lives of others.
I promise if you’ll learn the doctrines of the priesthood and fulfill your priesthood duties, the priesthood will be a sure anchor that will keep you spiritually safe and bring you great joy. Be a true priesthood quorum. Reach out to your friends and bring them into your quorum. Create a brotherhood in your quorum that will be a permanent foundation for your lives.

When I was a Beehive, one of my leaders really encouraged me to complete the Personal Progress value experiences. Soon I had finished one value and was looking forward to finishing them all.
But during my junior year of high school, I quit working on Personal Progress. I was going through one of the hardest times in my life, and I began to doubt a lot of things. I just didn’t see how Personal Progress could help me during my trials. But in the past, doing Personal Progress had helped me see my worth and keep me on the straight and narrow path, and I missed that.
As I started Personal Progress again, I realized I was also heading back to the place my Heavenly Father wanted me to be spiritually. Personal Progress helped me see the worth in myself and in others, finish reading the Book of Mormon, gain a testimony of the gospel, and grow closer to God.
Alexis T., California, USA

I was born and raised in Montevideo, Uruguay. I am a convert to the Church. I joined when I was 18 years old. Becoming a member of the Church meant that I often found myself in the minority. When I was baptized, I was the only member of my family to join the kingdom, and I was in the minority. In college I was usually the only Latter-day Saint, and so again I was in the minority. Later I moved with my family to Ecuador, and there I was still in the minority. Then I was called as a General Authority in the year 2001, and I continued to be in the minority as I served in the wonderful lands of Brazil, Colombia, and Peru.

I have come to learn that true principles are key factors that help us in making decisions in the crucial circumstances of our lives. To understand this, let me take you back to the wars of independence in South America. During those violent times, José Gervasio Artigas rose as the national hero of Uruguay, my home country. He was a man who cherished learning and often insisted on the importance of getting an education. In fact, his armies echoed his words by using his phrase as a greeting among soldiers: “Be . . . as educated as you are brave” or “Sean los orientales tan ilustrados como valientes.” I learned this from an early age. Such a teaching of a true principle in my upbringing was very helpful when facing the challenges of always being in the minority.

I mention this because it is inevitable that sooner or later you will be in the minority in standing for righteousness and in standing for the principles and doctrines of the Church. You may already know what that is all about. When that time comes—if it has not yet come—you will be strengthened by what you have learned.

I remember attending college in Uruguay in the early 1970s, a time when materialism was taught with great strength in the educational system there. Materialistic philosophies, endorsed even by subversive groups, had infiltrated higher education to the extent that many fertile souls were taught in the classroom that there was no God. In the middle of those turbulent days I came to know that the Book of Mormon was a divine book and, consequently, that Joseph Smith was a prophet and that God was real. Even though those in authority denied the existence of God, and religion was frowned upon by all around me, I knew that God lives and that He had restored the truths found in the Book of Mormon through a living latter-day prophet.

Sometime after the war was over, the missionaries returned to Germany, and one Sunday morning a new missionary from America who couldn’t speak our language came to our home for dinner. My parents spoke some English, since they had lived in Liverpool, England, for four years. In the evening we all went to sacrament meeting, and the new elder was asked to speak. I remember feeling sorry for him, knowing that he knew no German, and I wondered what be would say. He didn’t have time to copy a talk from one of the other elders who had been there awhile.
But he spoke for over an hour. He told the Saints to go to America because another world war would come which would be worse than the one we had just been through. This was a terrible thing to hear, because the suffering of the recent war was still vivid in our memories. On the way home from the meeting I asked my parents what language the missionary spoke. I knew it wasn’t German and I knew it wasn’t English, although I didn’t understand English; yet I understood every word he said. My father said I should never forget that experience for I probably would never hear anything like that again. This elder had spoken in tongues.

Brother Lund also said, “If you are ever called upon to speak and you don’t know what to say and you haven’t had time to figure it out, just stand up and bear testimony of the divine mission of the Redeemer of the world and of his Prophet of this dispensation, and I promise you that the Lord will give you something to say.” A child in Primary can bear witness of those things. And that reminds me of an experience that I had.

I was secretary of the mission in Holland. Our headquarters at that time were in Rotterdam. President Grant was then president of the European Mission, and he came over to attend one of our mission conferences. We had rented a theatre, and we had over 1,500 people there. Men came with their stovepipe hats and their walking canes, and it was a great meeting. My mission president had promised me that if I would take down President Grant’s talk (I could write shorthand) they would not ask me to speak, so I sat down at the little table in front of the stand. Right in the middle of that meeting the mission president stood up and said, “Our next speaker will be Elder LeGrand Richards, the secretary of the mission.” And he had promised me that I would not have to speak! But there was one higher in authority than he was: President Grant had said that he wanted to hear from me.

As I walked up onto the stand, I remembered the words of Brother Anthon H. Lund: “If you are ever called upon to speak unexpectedly and you don’t know what to say, bear your testimony.” And as I stood there, brothers and sisters, I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I felt as though I were lifted right off that floor—they could have moved the floor out from under my feet and I would have remained standing there, bearing witness of the truth. I did not know whether I had done any good or not, but a few weeks after that I attended a baptismal service in Rotterdam—and I am always one who goes around and shakes hands with everybody; I like to shake hands—and I shook hands with a man and his wife. He said, “You don’t know us, but we know you.”

I asked, “How do you know me?”

“We were in that conference when you bore your testimony, and that is what started us investigating the gospel.”

The mission president was there, an apostle presiding over the European Mission was there, and I was just a young man with broken language who had only been in the mission a few months; yet the testimony that I bore as Brother Lund advised was what touched their hearts. These are the things that make life worthwhile.