Gospel Story Finder

One day on the school bus, Rachel Chase and Lauren Smith, both in the Acworth Ward seminary, were talking about what a good seminary lesson they had that day. Curtis Clinch repeated something his pastor had told him about the Latter-day Saints being one of the fastest growing religions.
Rachel agreed and said, “It kind of makes you think, doesn’t it, Curtis?”
He answered, “Yeah, it kind of does.”
Rachel asked, “Do you want to come to seminary with us?” Instead of Curtis answering, Heidi Hetzer, another friend who had been listening to their conversation, surprised them by saying, “Oh, I do.” Rachel arranged to pick up both Curtis and Heidi, and they have been going ever since—especially after their baptisms a couple of months later.

Heidi said, “I’ve known Rachel and her brother, Stephen, since they moved to Georgia. I’ve seen how close their family is. And I’ve known other members. They all seem happier than the rest of us. I’ve been interested in the Church for a while, but I didn’t have the opportunity to learn more. So when Rachel was talking to Curtis and invited him to seminary, I just said I wanted to come. After that first day in seminary, I went to school with a newfound happiness. Since then, it’s been lasting.”

In fact, on her baptism day, Rachel’s dad noticed her happy attitude. And her friends asked if she was wearing different makeup or something because she had a glow about her.

Heidi said, “Rachel invited me over to talk to the missionaries, and I went to a fireside that same night. I dove right into the Church.”

In the Lodi (California) Third Ward, when the bishop asked ward members to increase their knowledge about food storage and preparedness, the young women of the ward decided to learn to bake their own bread. Together with their mothers, the girls made flat breads, yeast breads, croissants, cinnamon rolls, scones, round loaves, and Greek braided bread. Part of each girl’s bread was shared at an activity night, and part was donated to the Salvation Army.

My family has made Christmas a memorable occasion for as long as I can remember. When I left for the Brazil Porto Alegre South Mission, I didn’t realize how hard it would be for me to spend Christmas away from them for the first time.
During my first Christmas in the mission field, I longed to be with my family, but my companion and I were alone. A sense of self-pity and sadness seized me.
On Christmas Eve, a dear family invited my companion and me to dinner. We had a nice evening, but this family’s happiness just reminded me that I was away from my own family. That night we went home, and I tried to sleep and forget that the next day was Christmas. For the first time in my life, I was relieved when Christmas was over.

Those who knew President Grant personally agree that two characteristics stood out among the many good qualities he possessed: his persistence and his sense of humor. President Grant often referred to the story of an ant that made 69 attempts to carry off a grain of corn before it was successful. “This wonderful lesson of perseverance by an insect has been an inspiration to me all the days of my life,” he said.13

An example of his persistence is demonstrated in the way he learned to sing. When President Grant was 43 years old, he decided he wanted to sing, despite the fact that he had never been able to carry a tune. As he explained:
“I had a private secretary with a beautiful baritone voice. I told him I would give anything in the world if I could only carry a tune. He laughed and said, ‘Anybody who has a voice and perseverance can sing.’ I immediately appointed him as my singing teacher.
“My singing lessons started that night. At the end of two hours’ practice I still couldn’t sing one line from the song we had been practicing. After practicing that one song for more than five thousand times, I made a mess of it when I tried to sing it in public. I practiced it for another six months. Now I can learn a song in a few hours.”14
President Grant’s sense of humor was evident in the stories he shared of his efforts in learning to sing. He told of a time when he was practicing his singing next to a dentist’s office. He heard someone in the hall remark that it sounded like somebody was having teeth pulled.15

President Taim was aware of the physical and emotional challenges black members faced. He considered starting a branch in Soweto to make travel easier for them but did not want to make them feel as if they were unwelcome in Johannesburg. He decided to interview Soweto members like Frans to gauge their feelings before taking any action. They gave him a clear answer: “We would love to establish the Church in Soweto.”
President Taim identified experienced leaders who could help mentor recent converts. He interviewed over 200 members in Johannesburg and ultimately called 40 to join the new branch long enough to help train a pioneering group of local leaders there.

Diego trudged up the hill on his way home from school. Recess was usually the best part of the day. But all week it had been terrible! No one wanted to play soccer with him, so he just walked around the playground by himself until the bell rang.
“Mom, I’m home!” Diego yelled as he slid through the door and sat down in the kitchen.
“How was school?” Mom asked.
“Not so good.” Diego grabbed an apple. “No one wanted to play with me at recess.” He could feel tears coming, so he squeezed his eyes shut.
“It’s hard feeling lonely or left out,” Mom said. She put her hand on Diego’s shoulder. “Maybe you could say a prayer for help.”
Diego rubbed his eyes. “Thanks,” he said and ran to his room. Did Heavenly Father really care if he had friends at recess? Diego knelt down and prayed that he could find a friend. When he finished, he felt a little better, but he still had no idea what to do.
After school the next day, there was a knock on the door. Diego ran to answer it.
“Hi, I’m Ruben,” the boy at the door said. He had just moved into an apartment downstairs. Diego had seen him on the playground today. “Do you want to play?”
Diego grinned. A friend to play with? It was an answer to his prayer!
They walked to Ruben’s place and sat down on the couch. Ruben’s older brother was playing a video game. Diego didn’t know what to think at first. The game was really violent and had gross pictures, but Ruben and his brother seemed to like it. “Get him!” Ruben shouted as they watched.
Diego felt his stomach squirm, and he stared down at his feet. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be watching video games like this one.
But what could he do?
He didn’t want his new friend to think he was too boring to play exciting video games. Would Ruben think he was weird if he spoke up?
He looked around the room and tried to think of other things they could do.
Diego took a deep breath. “Hey, umm … can you show me your room? Or maybe we can play somewhere else?” he said.
Ruben looked at Diego for a second. Diego bit his lip. Would Ruben say he didn’t want to play anymore?
Then Ruben’s eyes lit up. “Wait, do you like cars? I have the fastest cars in my room. Want to race them?”
Diego smiled and nodded. He followed Ruben out of the room. The heavy feeling lifted—he felt like he was floating down the hall! He was glad he had a new friend, and he was glad he hadn’t watched something bad.
“The red car is mine,” Ruben said, “but you can use the blue one or the green one. Which one do you want?”
Diego reached for the green car—his favorite color. This was an easy choice to make.

When we arrived at our missionary apartment that evening, my companion went in before me and slammed the door. I parked our bikes and went in after him. Our voices became loud and harsh as we argued about the events of the day. He, an American, claimed that we didn’t get along because I, a Filipino, was prejudiced against him. That wasn’t true, and his saying it only made me angrier. He stormed into the kitchen. I went into the other room. Silence reigned after that, but the fire of our anger still raged.
I sat in one corner of the room, crouched like a child, wanting to cry or shout—I wasn’t sure which. I felt empty and afraid, as if I were driving on a dark, winding road without headlights. Everything we had done that day—teaching discussions, playing with children, talking with investigators—seemed like a charade. When we had taught a discussion about living a Christlike life, I felt tormented inside: How could my companion and I teach about Christlike love when we had built a wall of hostility between us?
In the darkness of the room, I remembered the words of my stake president when he set me apart as a full-time missionary. He had said that I would have many trials on my mission and that some would appear insurmountable. He also spoke of two “Goliaths” that I would have to face—weaknesses in myself and problems with my companion. He then promised, “The power within you is greater than the obstacles in front of you.”
However, I didn’t feel ready to face my Goliaths; I wished instead for a transfer. I had thought companionship problems would be easy to resolve, but this was more like sailing in a raging tempest. I knew I needed to turn to my Heavenly Father for help, so I knelt to pray. I struggled because I did not feel worthy to talk to him. I couldn’t do anything but cry.
I sat in silence until, through my tears, I noticed the scriptures on the ironing board. I opened them and looked through them until I came to this verse: “First, be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift” (Matt. 5:24). I knew this was the answer that I had been seeking. I felt the still, small voice tell me to make reconciliation with my companion. I also knew that Heavenly Father would help remove the wall of hatred between my companion and me.
With this assurance, I went to talk to my companion. I was surprised when he broke the silence first: “It was my fault, Elder. I’m sorry.”
I grabbed my chair and sat beside him. “No, no, no,” I insisted. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry, too, because I wasn’t able to hold my temper.”
He smiled and said, “Do you know that Satan wants to destroy our friendship and to stop this sacred work? And do you know that it is past our bedtime?” He laughed, then gave me a big hug.
After that, we knelt down together in prayer and felt the Spirit of the Lord heal our friendship.
I hardly slept that night, for joy. I was surprised to see the darkness fade as sunlight crept into our room. I opened the window so the light could enter freely. From where I stood, I could see the silhouettes of the coconut trees, the nipa huts, and the mountains. At that moment, I felt a desire to share the light of the gospel with the entire world.

It was Elliott’s first day at a new school, and he was nervous.
Mom, I’m going to miss my old friends.
I know you will, but you can make new friends.
After arriving at school, Elliott sat down in a new classroom. A lot of the children already knew each other. They were talking and laughing. Elliott sat quietly.
At recess Elliott couldn’t find anyone to play with. He didn’t know whom to ask. A couple of the boys on the playground said something unkind to him. Elliott was not happy.
Elliott returned home from school feeling sad.
What’s wrong?
I had a hard day at school. You said I would make new friends, but I didn’t. Some boys were mean to me, and I didn’t even do anything to them.
I’m sorry you had a bad day. If you keep trying, things will get better. Maybe we should pray about this. What do you think?
OK. I really want to have a good time at school.
Day after day Elliott prayed for help so he could have good days at school. Some days were a little rough, but he slowly started to find friends to play with.
Elliott kept praying for help. After a few weeks, Elliott was playing with new friends every day. Even though some kids were not always nice, he wasn’t bothered by them as much. Elliott knew Heavenly Father blessed him so he could be happy at his new school.

Anyone passing the cottage of Emrys Davis on that autumn evening would have stopped to smell the aroma that was coming from the chimney. It was different from the usual smell of coal smoke. If they could have looked inside they would have seen an incident almost beyond belief.
But first, let us get acquainted with Mr. Emrys Davis. He was born and still lived in a little Welsh village that has a name that only Welshmen can pronounce. His life was quite simple. He worked as a clerk at a nearby colliery (coal mine), and several evenings a week he would visit the local pub and indulge in a pint of beer and watch his fellow villagers play billiards or throw darts.
There were other evenings when he stayed home and read his Bible, for deep inside Emrys Davis was a religious man. He had been approached on one occasion by the minister of a local church and invited to become a member. He had refused and had embarrassed the minister by saying that his sermons were pure “posh” and did not agree with the scriptures. That was several years ago and there had been no further invitations.
A tragedy had come into his life when his beloved wife of just two years had died at childbirth. Somehow, he could not bring himself to believe that he and Gwyneth whom he loved so well were separated forever.
Then one evening, as he was sitting by his fireside reading his Bible, a knock came at his door. Upon answering he faced two young men. Before he could even ask what they wanted, one of them said, “We are missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We would like to tell you of our church and doctrines.”
Emrys Davis was about to close the door in their faces, thinking to himself that their teachings would probably be more “posh,” when he took a second look at these young men. There was something different about them that he could not quite understand. He saw in their faces truthfulness, sincerity and courage.
Going against his stubborn Welsh background, he heard himself say, “Come on in.” As the flames from the fire reflected on their faces, these two young men unfolded for him a story that made his Bible come to life. What he thought would be just more “posh” was something that touched the chords of his whole being. At midnight the young men left with a sincere invitation from Emrys to return.
A few evenings later they returned and continued the gospel discussions. Then came that magical evening when the prayer of his heart was answered. The missionaries explained to him the law of eternal marriage, that he and his departed wife could be reunited through accepting and following the teachings of the gospel and by being sealed in the temple of the Lord.
His very soul seemed to come alive, and he knew he had found the truth. However, there was one encumbrance before he could be baptized: he loved his tobacco. The beer at the pub would be no problem, but through the years he had collected a variety of pipes for smoking. There were briars, meerschaums, and pipes from many different lands. They were part of his life.
He had requested baptism, but now he wondered if he had the courage to overcome this part of his life. Over his mantle were those pipes in a glass case. They looked down on him like an idol seeking worship.
That night he kneeled by his bedside and prayed for an answer. When the morning light broke over the Welsh hills, his answer came. The Lord had said through his prophet that tobacco was not good for man and that the Spirit of God would not dwell in an unclean tabernacle.
The next Sunday after sacrament meeting, Emrys Davis invited the members of his branch to his cottage. He had made Welsh cakes and lemonade, and after the refreshments were served, he asked for the attention of his guests.
“For some time,” he said, “I have faced a difficult problem, but tonight as we sang the closing hymn, the solution came to me. We sang, ‘Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven.’” He then explained the problem of the pipes.
When he was through, he reached above the mantle and took down the case of pipes. One by one he dropped them into the fire and watched them being devoured by the flames.
On each side of him stood the missionaries and in back were the branch members. Outside the air was scented with briar and meerschaum, but inside was the Spirit of God.

Within a few years after Sandra Edwards of Kingston, Tennessee, was baptized, she was divorced, lost her mother to a stroke, and then lost her son in a tragic automobile accident. During these crises, the members of her branch were her lifeline. They helped her move, tended her children, brought food to her home, and gave her encouragement, love, and help. “Never once was there a critical word,” she says. “Never once did I feel left out, ashamed, lonely, unwanted, or unappreciated.”

A true story from Indonesia.
Harvey sat squished in the back of the taxi with Ibu (Mom) and Bapak (Dad). They were on their way to the church for Harvey’s baptism.
“Bapak, how did you feel when you were baptized?” Harvey asked. Bapak got baptized a few months ago. Now that Harvey was eight, he was going to be baptized too!
Bapak thought for a minute. “The water was so cold!” he said with a laugh. “But I also felt a lot of love. Even though most of our family are not members of our church, I felt their love and God’s love.”
When they got to the church building, some other people from church helped them fill the font with water and get ready.
“Harvey, it’s time to change into your baptism clothes,” Ibu said. Harvey nodded and found the bag with his clothes. But only his white pants were in the bag. He couldn’t find his white shirt! He checked the other bags and looked around the church.
“Ibu, my shirt isn’t in here,” Harvey said.
Ibu frowned. She checked a few bags too. “We must have left it in the taxi.”
“We have some extra baptism clothes in the closet,” Sister Putri said. “I’ll go get them.”
But the only baptism clothes from the closet were too big for Harvey. Ibu looked worried. The baptism would start soon. A lot of people were already here, and Harvey didn’t have his shirt.
“Maybe we can say a prayer that the taxi driver will bring the shirt back,” Harvey said. “But if he doesn’t bring it, I can just wear a shirt that’s too big. I don’t care what I wear. I just want to be baptized.”
Ibu and Bapak nodded. Together they went to the kitchen, where it was quiet. Then they folded their arms and bowed their heads.
Harvey said the prayer. “Dear Heavenly Father, thank Thee that I can be baptized today. Please help the taxi driver to bring back my shirt. But if not, that’s OK too.”
After their prayer, Harvey went to change into the shirt that was too large. It reached all the way to his knees.
“Harvey!” Sister Putri called from the hallway. “The taxi driver is here.”
Harvey and Ibu found the taxi driver by the front door. He was holding Harvey’s shirt!
“I looked back and saw it on the seat,” he said. “I thought it might belong to you.”
“Thank you so much,” Ibu said.
Harvey took the shirt from the man. “Thank you.”
The man smiled and waved goodbye.
Soon, it was time for the baptism to start. Harvey changed into his shirt. It fit perfectly! And it was white and clean.
When Harvey walked into the font, the water was freezing! Bapak said the prayer and baptized Harvey. When he came out of the water, he felt fresh and calm inside.
Bapak led Harvey out of the font and wrapped a soft towel around Harvey’s shoulders. Harvey thought about all the people who helped and supported him. Ibu, Bapak, the taxi driver, and his family. And Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ too.
Harvey gave Bapak a hug. “You’re right. The water was cold!” They both laughed. Then Harvey looked into Bapak’s eyes. “But you were right about something else too. I feel a lot of love.”

The role of Brigham Young University during the first 100 years was clear. It was to strengthen members and provide faithful leaders and teachers for the Church. Karl G. Maeser, faced with numerous problems in the 1880s, decided to leave Brigham Young Academy. He changed his mind, however, when in a dream he saw tens of thousands of members that would be blessed by a modern university on Temple Hill.

Last year on the first day of school, I met a new student. He made friends with boys who didn’t have good standards. They swore and sometimes made fun of other people. After a few weeks, I joined their group. My mom started to notice some changes in my attitude. I got into trouble with these boys, who I thought were my friends. My mom spent months telling me that if I wanted to make better choices, I needed to switch my friends. But I didn’t believe my mom. I got into a fist fight once. I didn’t feel very happy. I felt frustrated sometimes.
Fast forward four months. … One afternoon I read a story from the Friend called “Game Changer” (April 2017). When my mom and I were done reading the story, I felt in my heart that I needed to change friends or I would continue to have a bad last two months in school.
The next day I went to school and decided to sit away from my friends. I sat beside a girl named Olivia. We started talking, and it took one day to become friends. My mom prayed that I could make a new friend easily after we read the story in the Friend.
From this experience in my life, I’ve learned that your choice of friends affects your life a lot. Making new friends is not that hard if you make them with the right people. The Holy Ghost told me in my heart that I should sit at that different table, not tomorrow or in a week, but that day. I think Heavenly Father wanted to give me a new friend so that I could change. I’m thankful that I read the article in the Friend with my mom that day.
Harrison C., age 9, British Columbia, Canada

My daughter Kristen returned 8 days ago from serving a full time mission in London. She followed her younger brother who returned a few months ago from serving in Ghana, Africa. Kristen was an amazing missionary. Before her mission, for several years Kristen didn't know if she should serve a mission. She went back and forth. She didn't have a clear witness from the Holy Ghost. Finally, I encouraged her to exercise her faith, to jump in with both feet. So, she prepared herself and sent in her mission papers. Even then, she still did not have a witness. I was with her when she opened her mission call. As she pulled the letter from the envelope, she read out loud: "Kristen Christensen, You are hereby called to serve as a missionary in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in the London England mission." Then, she stopped and her lips began to quiver and a tear ran down her cheek. I knew she knew. And she did. She saw with the Spirit, with new eyes, what was right for her in her life.

The fourth insight coalesced as we moved an old, heavy refrigerator from the basement of an elderly sister Clayton home taught. We had tried to find another ward member to help us but could not. Desperate, we asked Jim, a nonmember neighbor who happily agreed to help. It was a hot, horribly humid summer day, and soon our clothes were soaked with perspiration. When we reached the first turn in the staircase and had balanced the fridge on the landing, Jim said, “So tell me about the Mormon Church.”
Mopping his brow, Clayton responded, “Frankly, this is it.” He then explained how home teaching works and noted how much this sister needed us. We also told him that because graduate students and their families were moving in and out of our area all the time, our family was often helping someone load or unload a rental truck.
Jim was incredulous. “At our church we just listen to the sermon and go home. I have no idea who might need my help. They never ask, and there’s no way for me to offer. Will you ask for my help again when you need an extra pair of hands? I like this kind of thing.” Although Clayton had tried unsuccessfully to engage Jim in discussions about religion in the past, Jim was uninterested. But he was interested in opportunities to help others.
As a result, Jim subsequently accepted our invitation to take the missionary discussions.
Despite seeing much truth and goodness in our Church, Jim decided after the third discussion not to continue his investigation. Even though we know that many who discontinue investigating will later listen and accept the gospel, we were disappointed. But this taught us our fifth valuable lesson about member missionary work—we realized we had succeeded as missionaries. Jim had become a great friend, and we had given him the opportunity to understand the gospel of Jesus Christ more deeply. Whether or not he ever enters the waters of baptism, he has taken a step along the path of his own eternal progression and has made some important correct choices. Most of us fear failure. Once we realized that we succeed as member missionaries when we invite people to learn and accept the truth, much of the fear that kept us from sharing the gospel vanished.

When William Wood attended general conference on October 7, 1867 and heard his name read along with 99 other young brethren as missionaries to settle the Big Muddy Valley, he was astounded. He had some brief periods of remorse as he contemplated the labor which had gone into his business and the brand new home just occupied six weeks earlier. William regarded a call from the First Presidency the equivalent of a call from God. Once the call was officially confirmed and he was appropriately set apart, he hastened his preparations for the journey. He sold his butcher shop, his slaughter house, his fine brick home which had cost him $4,000, and within four weeks he was ready to proceed south into the unknown.

On their way through Utah valley, they encountered Brigham Young returning to Salt Lake. Brigham spoke, "What is your name and were are you going?" William Wood of Salt Lake City going to the Muddy," replied William. "You go and fill the mission and God will bless you." Brigham sat down and the line of carriages proceeded on. The occupants of each carriage smiled compromisingly at William's family as they passed, each one thankful in their hearts that their calling was not to the Muddy.

For four years William Wood and his family endured unbelievable hardship and privations. Hard work and faith had sustained them through the years. The spiritual and emotional strength gained through this service to the Lord became dominating factors in their character that helped them meet all adversities. This is best represented by Elizabeth's classic statement made while residing in a humble dug-out within sight of their former new home soon after they returned to Salt Lake City. As William wrote it, "While reflecting over the five year's experience, I asked my wife how she would like such a house as our old home now? Her noble answer was, 'I am glad you have filled your mission, and I would rather be in this dugout with your mission filled, than in that fine house with your mission unfilled'...."[10]

A short time before his death in 1916, William Wood bore this testimony. "I have lived to see several sons preach the gospel to the nations; also some of my grandsons. This is in fulfillment of my patriarchal blessing. Thus I lift up my voice in praise and thanksgiving to God for the testimony He has given me concerning the truth and divinity of this great latter-day work, that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God, and that this work is true, and my greatest desire is that all my children may live so that the Holy Spirit will dwell in their hearts, to give them a testimony that they may know for themselves that the work is true. My only object in writing the above is to impress all my family to maintain a strong determination, under all circumstances that fate may call them to meet in this life, to hold fast to the gospel of Jesus Christ, the faith of their parents."[11]

As a young stake president, I met many of the General Authorities when they came to speak at our stake conference. What a wonderful experience! President Hugh B. Brown came to one of our stake conferences just a week before he was called and sustained as a member of the Council of the Twelve. We enjoyed his warm spirit and his good humor. As I helped him put his coat on and walked out to his car with him, I said, “Elder Brown, do you have any personal advice for me?”
His answer was, “Yes. Follow the Brethren.” He did not choose to elaborate or explain, but he left that powerful message: Have the simple faith to follow the Brethren.

Several examples of hope and trust in the Lord have come to me from you, the young, beautiful, faithful students of this university. More than 10 years ago I had an excellent student in my Italian classes. Let’s call her Debbie. If she is listening, she will recognize her story. Debbie was always punctual to class and in her assignments. She had always been an A student in the several classes she had taken from me. That semester she was again enrolled in another one of my courses.

One day she had not arrived by 10:00 a.m, when the class began. It was the first time that she had been absent. I thought that she was probably ill. At 10 minutes after 10:00 a.m., she walked into the class and quietly sat down at one of the desks. I noted in my mind that that was strange and then went on with my lesson. At the end of the class she waited for everyone to leave and then approached me. She said, “Sister Noble, I am sorry I was late for class today, but last night I had my third miscarriage in a row.” Her eyes were glossy with tears for the sorrow of having lost a much-desired baby, and she was shaking a little. My dedicated, sweet, dear Debbie! I told her to go home immediately and to rest, and that we would worry about the assignments later. She was discouraged by the recurring problems in her desire to become a mother, but serene in her countenance and faithful in her attitude. She trusted in the Lord and knew that everything would be fine, that if she and her husband were faithful and strong the Lord would bless them—with or without children in this mortal life. I will never forget that day with Debbie. I admired her strength and faith and hoped that I could have a fraction of it myself. I told her “tongue in cheek” that I would fail her if I found out that she didn’t take the day off and get some rest.

A few years later I received a phone call from Debbie. She told me that she had two children and that she and her husband were very happy. Debbie, wherever you are, I will never forget you and your example.

My parents were baptized members of the Church just before I was born. We went to church every Sunday, and we would pray together. But after my ninth birthday, my family moved from Toronto, Canada, where the Church was strong, to a rural area with few members.
A few months later my family fell into some difficult financial times and became less active. For many years I lived in a home that did not have the gospel. I heard anger and even bitterness towards the Church expressed in my home.
When I was 17, some missionaries came to see us. At that time most of my siblings and I were caught up in worldly lifestyles and had no desire to change. We were disrespectful and rude to this missionary and his companion.
A year later I moved back to Toronto to work. I was lonely, so I looked up some members of the Church who had known me as a child. I visited them on Saturday, and before I left they had asked me to go to church with them the next day. I agreed.
When I arrived, they introduced me to a young woman about my age, who took me to the Gospel Principles class. A missionary was teaching the lesson. I kept thinking I had met him before, but I didn’t know where. At the end of class, I remembered. He was the missionary who had visited my family a year earlier.
After the closing prayer, I went up to him and described the day I had met him. He remembered me and my family. I told him that my parents had become less active when I was a child and had fought about the Church. My mother said the Church was true, but my father said it wasn’t. I asked to be taught the discussions so that I could learn for myself if the Church was true. He arranged for some missionaries from my area to teach me.
The missionaries came and taught me the discussions. They challenged me to read the Book of Mormon. I agreed, and once I began reading, I couldn’t put the book down. I read the Book of Mormon everywhere and could barely eat—I had such a desire to read the book. My soul hungered for it.
I didn’t know right away if the Church was true. I continued reading the scriptures and attending Church meetings. I repented of my worldly ways. My testimony grew as I kept the commandments.
I felt the influence of the Spirit in my life. I realized that Christ had died for me so that I could repent. I began living a righteous life and have continued to do so. I became born of God in my heart, mind, and spirit. It’s been a hard, long road, but I’ve overcome many obstacles, and now I rejoice in my testimony of the gospel.

A few years ago Sister Jolley and I concluded an assignment where I presided over a mission in south Texas. Our missionaries there wholeheartedly embraced the “balanced effort” concept of missionary work, which includes finding, teaching, baptizing, and doing everything possible to retain new converts, and spending several hours each week working with less-active members. Our missionaries, like all missionaries throughout the world, were great kingdom builders.

When my wife and I returned to our home ward in Idaho, I was determined to practice what I preached in the mission field. I therefore asked the bishop to assign me as a home teacher to some of our wonderful families who were not enjoying the blessings of full activity in the Church. He quickly obliged by assigning me to six of these special families.

After several visits to one of these families, I challenged the father, who had been inactive for almost 40 years, to become fully active in the Church and to participate in the temple preparation classes. He responded, “These kinds of things are more than I can understand; they are way over my head.” I was troubled by his response and felt bad that he did not think he could embrace the gospel because it was too difficult to understand. But I knew that the truths of the gospel are for everyone and that everyone can understand them through earnest prayer and scripture study. So our next few home teaching visits were spent talking about the simple and beautiful things of the gospel.

With patience and persistence our visits became more enjoyable and more spiritual. We developed a genuine friendship. As time went on, it became apparent that he could and did understand the principles of the gospel. This made his wife very happy. They grew closer in their marriage. They are now attending church regularly, becoming good friends with all members, and preparing to go to the temple. We had similar experiences with other families. The Lord blesses us as well as these wonderful families when we put forth the extra effort to share these simple truths with them.