Gospel Story Finder

A desire to follow a prophet’s counsel of “fixing up and painting our property” helped a teacher in the Ontario Third Ward, Nyssa Oregon Stake, become the first Mormon ever elected student-body president at Ontario Junior High School. “President Kimball said we should paint and clean up and take more pride in our homes,” explained Phil Bartle, “and I thought the same thing would apply to our schools, so I used that as one issue in my election campaign.” Following his victory, Phil organized a group of students who cleaned and painted the junior high school bleachers, backstops, poles, entryways, and garbage cans. In addition, they erected “Spirit” and “Pride” signs on the grounds. Their efforts appeared to pay off in more than one way as the football team went undefeated for the first time ever last fall.

Gary loved to visit Grandpa and Grandma McGregor on their farm near Cardston, Canada. It had been nearly four years since the family had made the long trip there from their home in Quebec. But at last they had reached the farm, and Dad stopped the car by the back gate.
Everything was quiet as they opened the doors. Suddenly Mother whispered, “Sh-h! Don’t move—listen!”
Gary and Dad listened carefully. “What’s the matter, Mom?” Gary asked. “I don’t hear anything.”
“It’s a swarm of bees” Mother answered, “and it’s close by.” She looked around and then pointed toward the lilac bush by the door. “There it is. Look, Gary!”
Gary could hardly believe what he saw. There were bees flying around the lilac bush—more bees than he had ever seen before.
“What are they doing?” Gary almost shouted. “There are thousands of them. Where did they come from?”
“They’re swarming, Gary. Every spring some of the bees leave a hive with a queen,” Mother explained. “We mustn’t get too close to them or they’ll chase and sting us, but I want to show you something special. Do you see that large brownish clump on the underside of the limb?”
Gary looked at the lilac bush. “You mean that big thing hanging down? The bees are flying around it.”
“That’s the swarm of bees. The queen is inside the swarm,” Mother answered.
“You mean that big clump is solid bees?” Gary asked.
“Yes,” Mother replied, “and I haven’t seen one for years.” Then she smiled as she reminisced. “One time a swarm landed on the bottom of Grandpa’s tractor seat, and he couldn’t go to work until he’d put them in a hive. They were hanging almost to the ground. Another time they were so high in the quaking aspen that Grandpa couldn’t get to them. A bad wind came up and the bees blew about so much that part of the swarm broke off and fell to the ground.”
“Can Grandpa get all of these bees out of the lilac tree?” Gary asked. “Where is he, anyway?”
Just then they saw Grandpa coming from the field. Gary ran to meet him. “Oh, Grandpa,” he said, “I just love being back on the farm, even with the bees.”
Grandpa McGregor laughed. “Well, we’ll take care of the bees later, when they’ve settled down a bit. I’ll show you how to handle them so no one will be stung.”
Gary watched the bees from the back porch. He was fascinated by the funnel shape clinging to the branch. Only a bee or two hadn’t settled down with the others. Gary wondered how they could hang on like that and why they didn’t break off and fall to the ground.
When Grandmother called Gary to eat, he was afraid the bees might disappear while he was in the house. Grandpa assured him they would still be in the lilac bush. “Sometimes they’ll stay like that for a day or two. Then if someone doesn’t put them in a hive of their own, they’ll leave.”
“Where would they go?” Gary asked.
“Sometimes they find an old hollow tree and make their home inside it,” Grandpa explained.
“Will you give the bees a hive of their own so they won’t fly away?” Gary wondered.
Grandpa smiled. “After dessert I’ll show you what we’ll do.”
When everyone had finished with supper, Grandpa pushed back his chair and said, “I’d better put on my bee clothes. That’s a large swarm, and I don’t want to lose any bees. They make a lot of honey for us.”
Gary saw Grandpa open the cupboard on the back porch and take out some strange-looking clothes. He watched Grandpa put on the clothes. Grandma tied his gloves at the wrists. “So the bees can’t crawl up his arms,” she explained. Grandma also tied his pants tightly at the ankles over some high boots. But when Grandpa put a big covering over his head, Gary could hardly believe what he saw! A net covered Grandpa’s hat and was tied tightly around his neck. It made him look like a man from outer space.
Grandpa made a little fire in an odd-shaped can. He put some oily rags in the can, touched a lighted match to the rags, and put the lid on. When Grandpa squeezed the handle, smoke came out of the spout on the can.
“What’s that for, Grandpa?” Gary cried.
“Bees don’t like smoke, Gary. If some get angry while I’m working, the smoke will keep them from stinging me.”
Then Grandpa went out to the shed and carried out an empty beehive. Gary watched from the back porch as Grandpa set the beehive directly under the big clump of bees. He removed the lid from the hive, and with a quick movement he shook the limb of the lilac bush. The large cluster of bees fell into the hive. Some of the bees were angry at being disturbed. They began buzzing around Grandpa’s head, but he aimed the smoking can at the bees and puffed some smoke at them. A few bees flew away, but some of them still buzzed around.
When the bees were in the hive, Grandpa put the lid on and carried the beehive out behind the bunkhouse with the others. “That’s one place I’ve never explored,” Gary said to himself.
“I’d like to go out there when the bees are asleep and take a look.”
The next morning after breakfast Gary headed straight for the bunkhouse. Gary looked at the first hive. He thought it was the one Grandpa had put out last night, but then all the beehives looked alike.
Quickly Gary lifted the lid to take a little peek. As if they were waiting for him, the bees swarmed up into the sunlight! Gary turned and ran for the house, but it was too late. The bees were after him. One flew down his shirt. Others flew around his head and hands.
When they heard Gary’s cries, Grandma and Mother came running. They helped chase the bees away, and Grandma put mud on the bee stings. Gary’s face was so swollen, he didn’t look like himself. And his arms and hands were swollen too.
“You know, Grandma,” Gary admitted, “I didn’t want to steal their honey, but I guess the bees didn’t know that. Next time I’ll go with Grandpa and wear bee clothes.”
Then Gary was quiet. He was thinking about the report he’d have for school next fall after learning all about bees. He thought he might leave the bee stings out of the report—but he’d have all summer to decide about that!

I am a full-time missionary serving in the Honduras Tegucigalpa Mission. While caring for a sick companion one day, I found a box containing a stack of Liahonas (Spanish) dating from 1988 to 1998. I had found a treasure.
During the time my companion was recovering, I read the magazines and learned a great deal about the teachings of President Ezra Taft Benson, President Howard W. Hunter, and our current prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley. I was so grateful to find that treasure of knowledge.
This experience has helped me on my mission. Each time I share a copy of the Liahona with someone, I feel I am delivering light, knowledge, and a great treasure into their hands. This powerful treasure has changed many lives, including mine.
Sister Verónica Solís Velásquez,Honduras Tegucigalpa Mission

To close my talk, I would like to share an experience of mine with you.
When I was a young teaching assistant at the university, I had a beautiful experience that taught me such a great lesson that I can still recall that experience vividly, even now.
At our university at that time, we used to give a physical test to a whole school every spring. One year, I was supervising a 50m running test. We had students line up with a group of eight, had them start running, and timed their running.
One day, after I finished the test of the big group of students, a small group came to the test. Among them, one student came up to me and asked me if his friend can run the very last. Not understanding his intention, I looked at his friend who was standing beside him. Looking at him, I instantly recognized the situation. He was blind. There, I accepted their request, and let this blind student run at the end.
After all other students finished with the running test, that student came up with his blind friend. Although we did not know what to do, we watched carefully what they were doing. As we watched them, this student took the hand of the blind student and had him stand in the middle of the start line. He then went over to the goal line, turned around, and started to make a big clap, extending his arms wide. We watched the moment that the blind student, standing on the start line, started running. As he took off, the stopwatch started. The blind student certainly could not run fast; however, he masterly completed running 50m and run into his friend’s outstretched arms.
They have taught me an important lesson; that is, we all need the help of someone to make a goal.
In our daily lives, of course, there are things that we must do by ourselves. However, there are things that we cannot deal with by ourselves. And that is to reach the goal of eternal life. We need the help of someone who is special. The savior, Jesus Christ is the one and His atonement becomes a great help to us. Except for the Lord, no one can accomplish this work. Only Jesus Christ, our savior, can atone for our sins. Through His atonement, we are cleansed, healed, forgiven, and strengthened.

When you think of the Netherlands, you probably think of wooden shoes, tulips, and windmills. But the Netherlands is also home to youth who are strong in the gospel. Here’s what some of them had to say about their testimonies and beliefs in gospel principles:
“One of my friends joined the Church last year. I had taken her to church and had invited her to activities. She started to get involved and wanted to know more, and eventually she was baptized.”
—Tanya Broekman, age 16

Several years ago I was riding on a train from Edinburgh, Scotland, to Glasgow with a noted British lawyer. We had engaged him to present our claim of discrimination by the city council of Glasgow. We were seeking a building permit, which had been repeatedly denied by the city council at the instigation of an opposing ministerial group as not needed inasmuch as there was an abundance of vacant or unused church buildings. We had been granted a hearing before the secretary of state for Scotland, a member of the prime minister’s cabinet.
As the early morning train sped toward Glasgow, I asked the distinguished counsel if he had any additional questions about our church. I was concerned about his limited understanding of our expansion, of why we were building modern church buildings and why we had hundreds of missionaries in Great Britain. He assured me that he was quite comfortable in representing us and presenting our case that to him appeared to have merit.
As we discussed other aspects of our growing presence in Great Britain, he said, “I hear, but it couldn’t be true, that you baptize for dead people.”
I said, “Yes, it is true—not only true that we do it today, but the eternal principle of vicarious service of baptism for the dead was taught during our Savior’s earthly ministry.”
I explained that all of God’s worthy children of all ages can become heirs of salvation in His kingdom. I briefly reminded the lawyer of Jesus teaching Nicodemus that “except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.
“Nicodemus [said] unto him, How can a man be born [again] when he is old? can he enter the second time into his mother’s womb, and be born?
“Jesus answered, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God” (John 3:3–5).
I also made reference to the early Apostles’ teachings regarding Christ’s resurrection and the resurrection of all, including Paul’s great statement: “Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? why are they then baptized for the dead?” (1 Cor. 15:29).
The engaged lawyer seemed comfortable. He presented our case effectively. We won our building permit. The chapel now stands in Glasgow, Scotland.

You may remember a story about a ship’s captain who had a problem with his pride. One night at sea, this captain saw what looked like the light of another ship heading toward him. He had his signalman blink to the other ship: “Change your course 10 degrees south.” The reply came back, “Change your course 10 degrees north.” The ship’s captain answered, “I am a captain. Change your course south.” To which the reply came, “Well, I am a seaman first class. Change your course north.” This so infuriated the captain, he signaled back, “I say change your course south. I am on a battleship!” To which the reply came back, “And I say change your course north. I am in a lighthouse” (adapted from Hope Health Letter [Kalamazoo, Mich.: Hope Health Institute], Oct. 1993, p. 1).

I looked at them as they finished their story; their faces shone with happiness. In what I thought would be a closing question, I asked in halting Spanish what they were now doing in the Church. Among them were a bishop, a Sunday School superintendent, another bishop, an executive secretary, and a mission presidency counselor.
I turned to the father, Manuel, and asked what he was doing. He replied that he was serving as a counselor in a bishopric. I was ready to finish with one last item when one of the brothers added that the bishop to whom their father was serving as a counselor was one of their brothers.
Then came one of the choice moments of my interviewing life. Turning to the bishop son, Víctor, I asked, “How does it feel to have your father as your counselor?”
With poignancy, he gently answered, “I have great love for my father. He has always counseled me well in my life. He has been an example to me. He has been my inspiration. When I have had difficulties in my life he has helped me. Who else could I ask to counsel me but my father?”
Tears began to well up in my eyes, and I slowly turned to Manuel: “How do you feel about serving your son as a counselor?”
In the great dignity natural to the Spanish tongue, Manuel Cerda softly, slowly, and in an emotionally quivering voice said, “I have great love for my sons. It is an honor to counsel them. It is an honor to advise others to listen to them. I believe I feel something like God the Father felt when he said, ‘This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased. Hear ye him.’ (Matt. 17:5.) I understand well love between father and son.”
I turned and went around the circle again. “What,” I asked, “brought about this family love?”
The father, Manuel Cerda summed up the answers of the others—“It was the gospel that changed our home. It taught us to see each other as eternal friends. It has taught me affection and love. It has taught me to esteem my children. We fight against anything that seeks to divide us, that affects our esteem for each other. The truth has changed our lives.”

“Let’s go on an adventure!” said Tanner. “Let’s be explorers!”
Tanner rode his bike. Mom walked.
They went up and down hills. They giggled as his bike bounced.
They went through trees and around a lake. Tanner told Mom about his friends in school. He told her about his favorite books. He told her about his favorite games.
“Mom, what are your favorite things to do?” asked Tanner.
“One of them is having adventures with you!” said Mom.
Heavenly Father blessed us with families! What do you like to do with your family?
Illustrations by April Hartmann

There was a time in my life when things had been going wrong and I had very little sense of self-worth. Even my testimony had been at a low point. My school friends didn’t understand why I wouldn’t go with them on Sundays, why I didn’t swear, and why I wouldn’t drink or smoke. They basically told me my beliefs were foolish. In the back of my mind I was also beginning to question what I believed.
As I pondered my problems, I decided to read both my patriarchal blessing and the scriptures. As I read my blessing a feeling of peace and love came over me. I knew there was a God who knows and loves me. He has great expectations of things which I can achieve.
I then turned to the Book of Mormon. As I read the words of Korihor the anti-Christ, these words struck me:
“O ye that are bound down under a foolish and a vain hope, why do ye yoke yourselves with such foolish things? Why do ye look for a Christ? For no man can know of anything which is to come. Behold, these things which ye call prophecies, which ye say are handed down by holy prophets, behold, they are foolish traditions of your fathers. How do ye know of their surety? Behold, ye cannot know of things which ye do not see; therefore ye cannot know that there shall be a Christ. Ye look forward and say that ye see a remission of your sins. But behold, it is the effect of a frenzied mind; and this derangement of your minds comes because of the traditions of your fathers, which lead you away into a belief of things which are not so” (Alma 30:13–16).
I continued to read and gained great comfort from Alma’s response to Korihor:
“Believest thou that there is a God? And [Korihor] answered, Nay. Now Alma said unto him: … I know there is a God, and also that Christ shall come. And now what evidence have ye that there is no God, or that Christ cometh not? I say unto you that ye have none, save it be your word only. But, behold, I have all things as a testimony that these things are true; and ye also have all things as a testimony unto you that they are true; and will ye deny them?” (Alma 30:37–41).
I realized my school friends didn’t have any proof or evidence that what I believed was false. But I had the testimonies of thousands—of prophets, family members, and trusted friends—that it was true. And, most importantly, I had my own testimony confirmed to me by the Spirit.

These same kinds of missionaries, though, have the faith of Alma. I’ll conclude with one more story about faith in the mission field. I was in Mexico a few weeks ago. One of the missionaries stood up to bear his testimony, and he let us know that he knew why he was there and that the Lord was watching over him. Then he told us about a family he and his companion were teaching. The father had had an operation two or three months earlier. The incision had opened up his stomach from his breastbone down to his belt. Because of the poor medical facilities there he hadn’t healed, and he had a large open wound. He was not even able to sit up. The physicians seemed to be doing nothing to correct it, so he had to lie down again in bed for two months. The missionaries were teaching him and his family the gospel. The family liked what they heard, they accepted what they heard, and they were ready to be baptized the next Saturday. The father, of course, couldn’t be, because he couldn’t get out of bed. The elder said that evening, after the family had accepted the challenge of baptism, they went home and were thinking about and reading some stories about missionaries of former days. They read about Brother Matthew Cowley and his great healing experiences down in the South Pacific. The elder said to his companion, “You know, Brother Cowley was a missionary. We’re missionaries. He wasn’t an apostle when he was out there on that first mission, yet the Lord helped him heal. Why can’t he help us? Why won’t he help us heal?”

Then the elders did something that’s significant, and we must remember this: they decided to prepare themselves to call down a blessing from the Lord in behalf of this man. They spent a day in fasting and prayer. Before they left their home that evening, the knelt down and prayed, “Heavenly Father, now please bless us to say what thou wouldst have us say.” They went to that family’s home, laid their hands on the man, and administered to him in the power of the priesthood. They blessed him to get well, and they said they felt full confidence that he would. As they got up, the man also got up and walked around the bed for the first time in two months. He was tired, so he went back to bed, but three days later he went down into the waters of baptism and was baptized along with his family. This is the faith of the elders. This is the faith of those who prepare themselves to receive the blessings of heaven.

“I remember observing one elderly sister learning how to read. I watched her wrinkled face and beautiful black eyes light up like the sun as she read the first words she had ever read in Spanish: eso, mesa, mama. This came only after a solid week and a half of learning to recognize and distinguish sounds. Now, finally, she was able to put them together into words, the most difficult task of all. Nothing in the world could equal the joy that radiated from her face and eyes as she slowly read those words. Nor could anything take away the joy I felt upon realizing that we were actually helping this woman. Someday, perhaps, she will be able to sit down and read and study the scriptures.
“I never realized before how lucky I really am to be who I am. How much I take for granted the gifts and talents I have. I had never considered that being able to read is a blessing, a gift, and a talent. It is all three! Why is it that we never realize this until the day we meet someone who is without? I know now that I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for this experience and awakening.”
Michelle SmithNovato, California

Brother and Sister Willes Cheney were called as missionaries to the Canada Halifax Mission and assigned to the far north, to Canbrook, Newfoundland. The instructions from their mission president were: “Go up there and strengthen the branch. Find some housing so the people will have their own place to meet in. And be ambassadors of good will.”

This faithful couple touched many lives. Brother Cheney reported of their numerous successes with people and concluded with this tribute to his lovely companion:

“Aside from the many examples, the major contribution to our success was Sister Cheney. Her whole mission was a labor of love—teaching how to make a garden, can, sew, quilt, and give compassionate service. She was loved by all because of her excellent example as a wife, a mother, and as a friend.”

He went on to say, “We helped the branch acquire a chapel and saw twenty-seven new members come into the Church, and many who were inactive return.”

This lovely couple had shown their love for the Lord and for their newly found neighbors, though they were far away from home.

Several years ago, President Thomas S. Monson and I were offered an opportunity to tour Air Force One—the magnificent aircraft that transports the president of the United States. There were painstaking security checks by the Secret Service, and I smiled a little as agents searched our dear prophet prior to boarding.
Then the pilot in command invited me to take the captain’s seat. It was a remarkable experience to again sit at the helm of a wonderful flying machine like the kind I had flown for so many years. Memories of flights across oceans and continents filled my heart and mind. I envisioned exciting takeoffs and landings at airports all over the world.
Almost unconsciously, I placed my hands on the four throttles of the 747. Just then, a beloved and unmistakable voice came from behind—the voice of Thomas S. Monson.
“Dieter,” he said, “don’t even think about it.”
I’m not admitting to anything, but it just may be that President Monson read my mind.

They recently moved from Eagar, Arizona, to nearby Show Low, where their family business includes a hotel and car wash. Devastating wildfires struck the area last summer. Elder Shumway recalls that for three nights in a row, a television announcer stated the fire would be in Show Low by the next morning. The fire never reached the town, and the announcer finally said that there was a power at work higher than he had ever seen—he could not explain it.
“Had the fire come through, I do not think I would be sitting here today,” says Elder Shumway. “It would have been devastating.”
His family and business were spared, and he is grateful for the new opportunity to serve. “I deem it a privilege to go preach the gospel of Jesus Christ,” he says.

“Can we go to the park today, Mommy?” Judy shouted on her way to the kitchen.
But when she got to the kitchen, no one was there.
She heard noises in the family room, so she went to look. There on the floor was her two-year-old sister, Mandy. Mommy was bent over her, smiling.
“Come on, Mandy Pandy, you can do it,” Mommy said.
“Can we, Mommy?” Judy asked louder.
“What, dear?” Mommy said without looking up.
“Go to the park!”
“Judy, you know that today is Mandy’s therapy day.”
“But she always gets therapy. We never go to the park anymore,” Judy whined.
Mommy looked at her with a sad face. Judy went outside and sat on the front porch swing. She swung back and forth and thought about her mother’s sad look. She knew she had put it there, and she didn’t like it.
“Hi, Judy,” a cheerful voice called from the bottom step.
“Hi,” she mumbled to the therapist, Mrs. Bybee.
“Could I swing with you for a minute?”
Judy shrugged her shoulders.
Mrs. Bybee sat down, and soon the swing was smoother. “You look awfully sad on such a pretty day.”
“I wanted to go to the park, but we can’t because of Mandy’s therapy.”
“Oh. I see.”
“Ever since the doctor said that Mandy has cere-cere—”
“Cerebral palsy?”
“Yeah, cerebral palsy,” Judy said. “Now all Mommy and Daddy do is therapy with Mandy.”
“That’s not much fun for you, is it?” Mrs. Bybee asked understandingly.
Judy shook her head, then asked, “What’s cerebral palsy? After Mandy was born, Daddy told me, but I forgot.”
“It’s when damage to the brain makes it harder to use your muscles, usually in your arms, legs, and mouth,” Mrs. Bybee explained.
“How did Mandy get it?”
“She had a hard time being born, and oxygen didn’t reach her brain at first. That kept her brain from making her muscles work right.”
“Oh.”
Mrs. Bybee smiled at Judy. “You know what—I bet you would be a great therapist for Mandy.”
“Me?”
“Yes! Let’s go see.” She took Judy’s hand as they went into the house. “Hello, Mrs. Collins. Hello, Mandy,” she greeted them. Then she told Judy, “Let’s sit on the floor by your sister.”
Judy sat down and wiggled her pointer finger toward Mandy. Mandy tried to reach for the finger, but couldn’t touch it.
“That’s wonderful, Judy,” Mrs. Bybee told her. “Getting Mandy to reach for your finger is good therapy.”
Judy beamed. Then she looked puzzled. “But she couldn’t do it.”
“That’s why we do therapy,” Mrs. Bybee explained. “One of these days she will be able to do it. For Mandy, therapy is trying to get her to move—and you’re probably the best person to give her therapy right now.”
“Why is that?” Mommy asked the therapist.
“Big sisters have a lot of energy. And sometimes they can do things over and over again when moms and dads can’t.”
“Ga!” Mandy said.
Judy laid on her stomach, with her face only inches away from Mandy’s face and said, “Ga!” Mandy smiled. “Did you see that?” Judy said excitedly.
Mrs. Bybee nodded. “You’re her big sister, and she wants to do things for you. In fact, she might do more things for you than for me or your mother.”
Judy saw that Mommy had a happy face now. Judy looked back at Mandy, who was still watching her big sister.
“Judy, you can help Mandy by getting her favorite toys and trying to get her to reach for them. It’s good, too, to repeat whatever she says. She needs to make lots of sounds so that she can learn to talk,” Mrs. Bybee explained.
“But that’s playing,” Judy said.
Mrs. Bybee nodded. “Therapy is a lot like playing.”
“Do you think Mandy might enjoy going to the park?” Mommy asked.
“I think that’s a great idea,” the therapist said. “It would be good for her to see and feel different things, like sand and grass.”
“Yippee! We get to go to the park, Mandy Pandy!” Judy exclaimed happily. “Just wait until I show you the swings and all the other fun things there!”

I don’t think anybody on either side of the Iron Curtain expected the Cold War to end. But Heavenly Father had a different plan. In 1975, unbeknownst to us, President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) had invited Latter-day Saints to “join in a serious continuous petition to the Lord to open the gates of the nations and soften the hearts of the kings and the rulers to the end that missionaries may enter all the lands and teach the gospel.”1
Two years later, President Kimball visited Warsaw, Poland. One morning, accompanied by a small group of his associates, including Elder Russell M. Nelson, President Kimball left his hotel, walked by the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, and entered Saski Park. Not far from a large fountain that still stands there today, he knelt and rededicated Poland for the preaching of the gospel.
A decade of unrest and mass protests followed. While the adults distrusted and opposed the political leaders, many young people questioned some of the values, traditions, and attitudes of their parents. My friend Jakub and I felt disillusioned with Christianity as we understood it. He lost interest in religion in general, while I was drawn toward philosophies that originated in Asia.
In April 1990, Jakub and I hitchhiked to Austria. In Vienna we met two nice women standing on the sidewalk of a busy street. One of them was holding the Book of Mormon in Polish. She told us about Jesus’s visit to the people of ancient America and promised to mail the book to our homes if we gave her our addresses. We also opened our address books and copied addresses of many of our friends. We thought it would be a nice surprise for them to receive a gift.
A few months later the Poland Warsaw Mission was established, and four missionaries arrived in our city. Later, I learned that the large number of “referrals”—our friends’ addresses—played a key role in the decision to open our city for the missionaries. To my surprise a few months later, Jakub told me that two “Mormon” missionaries had visited him and that he had decided to join their church.
I was hurt by his announcement. I had tried for years to interest him in religion but with no success. How could strangers from a different country suddenly convert him? I was determined to face them and show Jakub they had no chance in a debate with me.
When I saw the two young, smiling missionaries standing in the doorway of my parents’ apartment, I forgot about my goal to prove them wrong. They were happy and funny. They asked me lots of questions about myself and my beliefs. They respected my convictions. Later they told me that during that first meeting with the arrogant guy with long hair and ripped jeans who was smoking cigarettes, they had a hard time imagining I would ever be interested in becoming a follower of Jesus Christ. But I felt something special in their presence, and I was intrigued that their Church was the only Christian denomination I knew of that believed in a premortal existence.
I was also impressed with their testimonies and the strong convictions of Jakub and Robert ?elewski, his new friend from the Church. Robert was a psychologist, an intelligent but down-to-earth man whose insights and experiences strengthened my interest in the religion of the Latter-day Saints.
Everything the elders, Jakub, and Robert told me was fascinating, especially the doctrine of the plan of salvation, starting with premortality and ending with the three degrees of glory. But I didn’t see any point in joining the Church until I was able to grasp more fully their unique beliefs. My understanding of Christianity was that anciently, God performed miracles, sent angels, and called prophets, but all those things belonged to biblical times. Once the Bible was completed, humanity no longer needed miracles and revelation because scripture contains all we need to know.
A breakthrough came during our discussion about the Great Apostasy and the Restoration of the fulness of the gospel through the Prophet Joseph Smith. I realized that their beliefs were more consistent with the Bible than the claim that the Bible had replaced prophets and revelation. I felt real joy when I realized I might be living in modern “biblical times.”
I was ready to ask God sincerely for personal revelation, but an answer did not come. Finally, I said, “Heavenly Father, if You called Joseph Smith as Your prophet, I will obey every commandment You revealed through him.” Then the answer came to my heart and mind with surety, and I knew that God had restored the fulness of the gospel and that it is found in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Jakub was baptized on November 3, 1990, and remained faithful until dying in a tragic hiking accident two decades later. I joined the Church on January 11, 1991, determined to serve a mission. Robert was called as the first local president of our branch and drove me all the way to Freiburg, Germany, so I could receive my temple endowment. During my last interview with him, I promised to return to Poland after my service in the Illinois Chicago Mission to use my missionary experience to strengthen the Church in our country.
Two years later, my mission president convinced me that I should get my education in America at Brigham Young University. But I never forgot my promise to Robert.
After getting married in 2000, I moved back to Poland with my wife, who, in 1988, had been an extra in the sixth episode of The Wonder Years. We attend Church meetings in Krakow, raising two boys and keeping in close touch with our two older children. Our older son recently announced he has decided to serve a full-time mission.
In the summer of 2021, I took my family to Berlin, where I showed them the spot where the wall used to stand. It no longer stops God’s servants from sharing the message of the Restoration with the people of Eastern Europe. God’s miracles continue in our day.

“I don’t want to go to school!” Maddy cried. “I’ll miss you! And I’m scared.”
Mommy hugged Maddy. “I’ll miss you too. But school is important. It helps you learn and grow.”
Maddy was sad. She wanted to stay home forever.
“Sometimes life takes courage. That means we have to be brave and do hard things,” Mommy said.
“What do you mean?” Maddy asked.
“Well, think about some of your favorite scripture stories,” Mommy said. “I bet Daniel was afraid of the lions. But Heavenly Father helped him.”
Maddy nodded. She liked that story!
“Or Esther,” Mommy said. “I bet she was scared to talk to the king. But she was still brave.”
Maddy knew that story too! She helped Mommy name some other people in the scriptures who showed courage.
Joseph Smith told the truth even when people didn’t believe him. Nephi followed Jesus even when it was hard.
“You don’t have to sail across an ocean like Nephi did,” Mommy said. “But you do have to go to school. And just like Heavenly Father helped all of those people, He will help you too.”
Maddy wiped her eyes. She wasn’t crying anymore.
“Maybe we can color a picture together to help you remember you can be brave,” Mommy said. “Then you could take it with you to school.”
Maddy liked that idea! She still felt a little scared. But she knew Heavenly Father could help her be brave, just like he had helped Daniel, Esther, and Nephi.

Actually, I was the one who questioned at first. I was a teenager when my mother and brother met with the missionaries. I listened only halfheartedly. But when they joined the Church, I saw that the things they had learned agreed with what I’d been taught my whole life. After I joined the military, I sought out the missionaries, went to meetings, studied and prayed, and then went home to be baptized. The gospel made me happy, and the Spirit told me it is true.Nicole V., 20, Georgia

Let's move forward again to November 1991 and get a picture of one of the best BYU-Hawaii basketball teams ever, playing a game in Idaho. There was, on this team, our oldest son Dave, President Shumway's son Jeff, and about the best leaper in college basketball in those days, whose name was Barry Hardy. This guy could practically dunk it with his elbows. He was doing slam dunks from the free throw line before Michael Jordon was. In the game he came down wrong and tore his anterior cruciate ligament. The doctor who examined him thought the injury was so severe that he was through for the season. Our son wrote us a letter the other day, containing a wonderful account of what happed next:

"We were playing in Idaho and Barry hurt his knee pretty bad. Dr. Nielsen looked at it on the court, then went with Barry into the locker room. Later, he told Coach Wagner that Barry was done. His knee was injured pretty severely."

"That night, the entire team and the coaching staff and school administrators, gathered in Barry's room. Somebody had asked Barry (who was not a member of the church) if he wanted a blessing and Barry said, 'Oh, I don't know.' One of the other non-LDS players told Barry, 'You better do it. Those blessings really work.' It was a cool experience. All the Melchizedek priesthood holders on the team stood in a circle around Barry and we blessed him (following the anointing from Jeff Shumway). Even though the coaches and administrators were in the room, they did not participate in the blessing. This was a team thing. It's not like we planned it this way, it just sort of naturally happened. Looking back on it, I don't know why the coaches and President Shumway were not invited into the circle...we probably should have! I suppose it was akin to the brotherhood we felt as a team. Anyway, it was a spiritual moment for everyone, member and non-member alike."

"Within three weeks Barry was playing with us again. Our best athlete, and Nike slam dunk champ, was again flying above the rim for the rest of the season."