Gospel Story Finder

The Smith family and others in their area were given opportunities to heft the ancient record and feel its individual plates at the Smith family home in Manchester Township, New York. Joseph’s younger brother William, age 16 in 1827, had a vivid memory of witnessing the plates, which he later shared in a sermon: “When the plates were brought in they were wrapped up in a tow frock. My father then put them into a pillow case. Father said, ‘What, Joseph, can we not see them?’ [Joseph responded,] ‘No. … I was forbidden to show them until they are translated, but you can feel them.’ We handled them and could tell what they were. … Could tell whether they were round or square. Could raise the leaves this way (raising a few leaves of the Bible before him). One could easily tell that they were not a stone, hewn out to deceive, or even a block of wood.”

On another occasion, William provided further information: “I could tell they were plates of some kind and that they were fastened together by rings running through the back.” He also wrote that in addition to feeling the individual plates and rings, he had hefted the entire artifact: “I was permitted to lift them. … They weighed about 60 pounds according to the best of my judgment.”

Our Heavenly Father is infinitely kind. When we keep his commandments, he “doth immediately bless” us (Mosiah 2:24). As we remember his kindnesses, we are again blessed, and our confidence in him grows stronger. Another sister, assigned to help the young women in her ward prepare for a sacrament meeting program, felt a spirit of peace, even though their final practice had concluded in confusion. She reflected, “We had practiced diligently. We had been called by God through his servants to this assignment. I had seen his blessings in similar situations in the past, and I knew that we could trust in him. We felt his Spirit during the program.”

We had a wonderful experience as part of our humanitarian projects.
Brother Eric Graffe, who assists us with our projects, told us about a drinking water problem on the island of Tahaa. We quickly set up a video conference with Madame Patricia Amaru, mayor of Tahaa.
To our astonishment, she began with a prayer. We then asked her what their priority needs are. With tears in her eyes, she confided: “You must be the answer to my prayers, because just yesterday we had an urgent problem. And I’m powerless to solve it.”
She went on to explain that the drinking water distribution network is outdated, making it difficult to supply water to a large part of the island.
So we headed off to Tahaa to see what was needed. As water is one of the priorities of humanitarian projects, we decided to put together a dossier that we would submit to the branch president. If successful, this substantial project will bless the lives of over 2,000 people.
Once we had finished visiting the facilities, Madame Amaru regretted leaving us, as she had to attend a meeting “with a young man from your church who is going on a mission”.
It was in fact a vigil during which the future missionary was to open his call letter. We asked her if it’s a member of her family. “No!” she replied. “But I go wherever I’m invited.”
“Then we’ll be delighted to accompany you!”
When we arrived, we found a branch filled with love for this young future missionary who had lost his mother a year earlier. What’s more, he’s the first missionary from this branch . . . in 40 years!
The branch president asked to the mayor and her husband to address a word. They both gave “parent” advice, encouraging him to be obedient and respectful, to remain humble, and especially not to stay there (Salt Lake City Mission) after the mission.
Before we left, we learned that this couple, who are very close to the people of their community, had recently attended the dedication of the meetinghouse. What’s more, during the seven-month construction period, they welcomed the entire branch into their home (not the municipality’s premises, but their own) for Sunday meetings!
It was with hearts overflowing with love and gratitude for such generous and humble people that we set sail again to leave them.
Unquestionably, we declare that our Heavenly Father watches over His children tenderly, that He sent us to Tahaa to serve them, and that the Church is the means by which this might be done.

Partway through my mission in Arizona, USA, I was hit with my first panic attack. I talked to leaders, asked for help, and prayed a lot. But the help I needed did not seem to come. I felt alone and afraid. I was even told I might have to go home.
One day my mother called. She asked, “Can you keep going?” I responded with, “I don’t know. I really don’t know.” Then my mom said, “Can you do one more month?” I said, “I don’t know.”
“What about one more week?” she asked. “I don’t know,” I said again. “What about one more day?” she asked. “I. Don’t. Know,” I said.
Then she asked, “Can you do one more minute?” Finally I said, “Well yes, of course.” She told me, “Then just do that. Go minute to minute, until you can get to an hour. Then let it progress, slowly. Don’t rush. Just let God take over. I promise you’re going to be OK.”
I trusted in her words. I have now been out for almost 21 months. I still struggle with mental health sometimes. But I also experience a lot of joy. And I have faith that as I go step by step, minute by minute, I can do this through the power of the Lord and His infinite Atonement. Struggles with mental health are real. But as we turn to Christ, we can do hard things.
Elder Rhett Turley, Arizona Mesa Mission

On a Friday when our workbook pages were due, a friend of mine asked for the answers on one section. At first I said sure. But after thinking about it, I didn’t want to get a “lunch bench,” one of the consequences at my school. When I told my friend it wasn’t the right thing to do, I felt a strong feeling inside. Later that day my teacher announced that if anyone copied answers they would get a lunch bench, and so would the person who let them copy. I felt so relieved. I realized the strong feeling was the Holy Ghost. I know the Holy Ghost helps us choose right from wrong.

The Young Women of the Cedar Rapids Iowa Stake responded to the challenge presented by the stake Young Women leaders to read the Book of Mormon before they went to girls’ camp. The 63 girls who met the challenge were presented with a small vase, and those who attended camp signed a banner that said, “I Have Read the Book of Mormon.” The banner was sent to President Benson.

During camp, the girls and leaders were challenged to take home a Book of Mormon to give to a nonmember. The girls also added their comments to letters being written on long strips of paper that were sent to the full-time missionaries serving from their stake.

Besides learning more camping skills, the girls found that many testimonies were strengthened and new friendships made.

I was blessed with a strong testimony of and love for the gospel at a young age, but I don’t recall one defining moment when I knew serving a mission was right. I just always knew I would go. I set a goal early to live in a way that would qualify me to serve a mission.
When I began preparing my mission application, I fasted, prayed, and attended the temple. As I worked with my bishop, I continued to feel the peace I had felt throughout my life about serving a mission.
The process was difficult at times: life seemed to suddenly get more expensive, and school and work became more demanding. I was at college away from my family, and it seemed as though all my friends were getting married. It was scary to realize the people I cared about were going to continue changing while I was gone.
Because I didn’t have any singular spiritual event that confirmed my decision to serve, it was easy to doubt when things got hard. But the Lord blessed me after I received my call to the Chile Santiago East Mission to develop a love for the people in my mission, even before I left. I now have a lifetime of experiences that have borne testimony that a mission was a good choice for me.
Madeleine Bailey

“Hey, Matt, where’d he come from?” Aldo asked as he jerked his head in the direction of the pale figure leaning against the cultural hall stage.
Unfortunately, the reverberating thud of five basketballs bouncing in the gym had forced Aldo to speak a little louder than usual, and the figure obviously overheard. Without expression, he stared straight at Aldo and Matt, lazily extricated one black-gloved hand from his folded arms, extended two fingers, and flashed a peace sign.
The gesture, the figure, gave them both the creeps. He was about their age, but he was thin and blond, his hair slicked completely back from his face and tied in a small ponytail. He wore little, round dark glasses which he hadn’t taken off when he entered the meetinghouse. He also wore an earring, a large silver dagger dangling from his left earlobe. He had on a long, bulky, army overcoat that covered the remaining threads of torn black jeans, and a dirty T-shirt with the neck and sleeves ripped out. He also wore huge, black, lace-up leather boots. He didn’t look like the type who would enjoy socializing with the kids in the ward.
“That’s Courtney Pennington’s brother, Selwyn,” Matt explained as he dribbled a ball to the opposite side of the court. “You know Courtney. She’s new—blond hair—been coming to the ward for a couple of months.”
Aldo followed Matt. He knew exactly who Courtney was. Her dad was a big movie producer from New York.
“Her mom and dad never come to church,” Matt continued. “Neither does her brother. We would’ve noticed him. He kind of sticks out.”
So did Courtney, Aldo thought as he waited for Matt to take a practice shot. But not because she dressed strangely. “You guys were talking when I came in,” he said. “How do you know him?”
“Oh, Courtney and my sister have been hanging around together lately. Courtney says he needs some fellowshipping and asked if I’d do it,” Matt replied as he arched the ball toward the basket.
“You should have told him to bring shoes he could play in,” said Aldo rebounding Matt’s shot. “I don’t think they’ll let him on the court in Doc Martens. We could use his help, too. The guys from fourth ward are really psyched up for this game.” Aldo shot and missed.
“Don’t count on getting any help from Selwyn,” Matt replied, running to retrieve the ball. “He says he doesn’t ‘do the basketball deed.’”
“Oh yeah? Well, what deeds does he do?” Aldo called after Matt.
“Why don’t you ask him?” Matt said as he put the ball under his arm and started to walk toward Selwyn. “He might be a little weird looking, but he’s not blind. He knows we’re talking about him.”
Aldo caught himself. He usually wasn’t so thoughtless. It was just that this was an important game, and he’d been thinking more about that than anything else. He decided to make it up to Selwyn by being extra friendly.
“Hey—welcome to the ward,” Aldo said as they approached Selwyn. His best, broad smile lit up his dark features.
“Thanks, dudes!” Selwyn said, sounding like he’d just stepped off the set of a bad teen movie. Matt and Aldo were surprised at his friendliness and exchanged a relieved look. “I’m, like, totally sorry I can’t play, but believe me buckaroos, you wouldn’t want me on the court. I’m, like, a real dweeb when it comes to sports, ya know?”
“That’s okay,” Matt assured him. He was surprised to find himself wanting to help Selwyn fit in. “Your sister says you never go anywhere without your video camera. Maybe you could film a game for us sometime?”
“I was going to bring it tonight, but my dad, like, grounded me from it for a few weeks. So for now I guess I’ll just sit over here and chill.”
“Well, make yourself at home, man,” Aldo said. “We’ll go out and get something to eat afterwards, win or lose, so why don’t you come with us? Everybody’s good at eating.”
“For sure,” Selwyn said as Matt and Aldo ran off to finish warming up.
“Seems like an okay guy,” Aldo said to Matt as they began shooting again.
“Yeah—he’s probably pretty cool. But why is he sitting like that?”
Both boys looked over to see Selwyn, perched, with his legs folded in a lotus position, atop a folding chair that he’d turned upside down. It wasn’t your basic spectator stance. It didn’t look very comfortable, either, but Selwyn was smiling—and he flashed the peace sign again.
As soon as the game started, Matt and Aldo didn’t have much time to think about Selwyn. The team from the fourth ward was their biggest rival and they were playing rougher than usual. So rough, in fact, that tempers started to flare and angry words flew.
“What did you say, young man?” shouted an angry ref, two inches from Aldo’s nose.
“Whadaya think I said?” Aldo yelled back, with enough control not to repeat the word he’d used, but without enough control to cool down and apologize.
“I can’t believe a bishop’s son would say something like that—ever,” the ref continued. “So I’ll let it slide. But just watch your mouth, or you’ll be off the court and into your father’s office so fast it’ll make your head spin!”
“Lighten up, Aldo,” Matt said as they took their positions around the key while a fourth ward player aimed his free shot. “You are supposed to set an example.”
That did it. Aldo hated references to his being the bishop’s son and this was coming from his best friend. The ball bounced off the backboard, and as Aldo lunged for the rebound, he used the most colorful language he knew to verbally demolish everyone around him.
“You’re out! You’re done! You’re through!” the ref shouted, angrily motioning Aldo off the court. “The bishop’s son. The bishop’s son! I can’t believe it.”
Aldo stomped off the court and into the foyer. He flung the glass door open and was about to leave when he heard someone behind him.
“Hey, dude—I thought we were gonna, like, get something to eat after the game,” Selwyn said, loping up to him.
“Yeah, well, I guess I’m not very hungry,” Aldo answered, a little of the fire going out of him. He flopped down on the couch.
“So, like, you’re the bishop’s son,” Selwyn said, taking a seat in the chair next to the couch. “You look it, man, but you sure don’t talk it.”
“Oh yeah? Well you probably aren’t exactly like your dad either,” said Aldo, his temper heating up again. It always did when people told him he didn’t live up to the image of a bishop’s son.
“No lie! My dad hates the stuff I wear,” Selwyn responded, gesturing at his clothes. “Mr. Immaculate Diction hates it when I talk like a skater, too.”
“Right,” Aldo replied, slowly gaining control of his temper. He bent over to unlace his basketball shoes. “You dress and talk like you do just to get on your dad’s nerves?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Selwyn said, dropping the affected accent. “I’ve sort of developed my own style.”
“It’s definitely your own.”
“Yep—nothing like my dad would wear, and that’s just the way I want it. Take my ‘fashion footwear,’” Selwyn said sarcastically, hiking his big, black boot up on the corner of the couch. “I could wear Cole Haan loafers like my father’s, but he’d complain because I didn’t keep them perfectly polished.”
“And I bet if you had short hair, he’d say it wasn’t styled right,” Aldo said, almost beginning to enjoy the conversation. There was something familiar about it.
“You must know my dad.”
“No, but I know exactly what you mean,” Aldo said, nodding his head. He paused for a minute. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got a problem with my mouth.”
“No lie!” Selwyn said again, but this time it was more agreeable. It made Aldo feel like talking.
“I kind of do it for the same reasons. I won’t ever be as perfect as everybody says the bishop’s son should be, and nobody even compares me when I swear.
“We’re not so different, then, are we? We both want to have control of ourselves,” Selwyn said.
“Some control,” Aldo responded slowly, taking his right shoe off and touching the beginning of a blister on his foot. “My mouth got me thrown out of the game.”
“Yeah, and my clothes just about get me thrown out of the house,” Selwyn replied thoughtfully, running his hand back over his slick hair and grasping his ponytail for a second.
“And you call that control?” Aldo asked, putting the question to himself as much as to Selwyn. “I mean, I know people think the wrong things about me when I swear …”
“… And you are supposed to be setting an example for ‘wayward’ types like me.”
“I’ve heard that before. But think about it for a second. The way you look might keep people from thinking you’re a copy of your dad. But what kind of an idea does it give people about you? Now that I’m talking to you, I think you’re all right, but at first I thought you were one scary guy.”
“That’s everyone else’s problem, not mine,” Selwyn said. “Church people should know that you judge by what’s on the inside, not by what’s on the outside.”
“Yeah, but some people aren’t ever going to find out what’s on the inside because they’re afraid to talk to a guy with a knife in his ear.”
Selwyn just sat there, touching his earring for several minutes. Aldo was afraid he might have been a little too honest with someone he’d just met.
“Okay, you could be right,” Selwyn conceded slowly. “My looks and your language might not be helping either one of us. But if I change, I worry about turning into a clone of my dad.”
“Actually,” Aldo responded, “I feel better when I do something that makes my dad happy than I feel when I do something that gets me thrown out of a game. One of the greatest feelings I ever have is when my dad smiles because of something I’ve done.”
Selwyn paused for a minute, trying to remember what it was like to have his father smile at him. It had been a long time. “I don’t know if it would make my father smile to know that I’ve come to church tonight,” Selwyn said quietly. “But at least I came. Hey, that’s definitely something different from what he’s doing. Nobody could accuse me of being his clone when I’m here.”
“Wait a minute,” Aldo said. Something was coming to him. “Coming to church on your own is not a bad way to be different from your dad. Who knows? If you set a good enough example, maybe he’ll end up trying to be like you.
“My dad wanting to be like me?” Selwyn asked, brightening. “Wow—what a concept!” He stopped for a second, thinking about the prospects, then went on. “Okay, now here’s one for you. You control your mouth, and maybe you’ll see more of those smiles on your dad’s face. We can even work together. Here. Watch this.”
Selwyn reached up to his earlobe and pulled the dagger off. “I just stuck it on with surgical glue, anyway. I didn’t have the guts to really pierce my ear.”
“Okay,” Aldo said. “Then watch this.” He stood up. “I’m going in there to apologize to my team, to the refs, and even to those guys from the fourth ward.”
“Totally bodacious, dude!” said Selwyn as he followed Aldo into the gym. “I mean—good idea, Aldo. Then can we go get something to eat?”

William Prabhudas of the Bangalore Second Branch works in a courthouse. He knows how heart wrenching it can be to see marriages torn apart. That’s one of the reasons he and his wife were so eager to find strength in the temple.
“Like most couples, sometimes we have small issues to work out,” he says. “But working them out is so much easier when we both have an eternal perspective.”
His wife, Sheela, says that going to the temple has helped not only her and her husband, but it has also helped their children: Celesta, age 13, and Doris, 7. “We were sealed as a family,” Sheela says. “It was a good feeling. We forgot the outside world, and it was like heaven for us. We talk about it all the time.”
“What a blessing to be sealed to my wife,” Brother Prabhudas says. “And then they brought our daughters in, dressed in white, to join us. It reminded me of cleanliness—cleanliness in our lives and in our homes. Cleanliness and the temple go hand in hand. When we are clean, the Lord promises—in His house of promises—to bless us.”
Celesta recalls that her family worked, planned, and saved for two years to be able to travel to the temple. But most of all, she remembers being in the temple with her parents and that her aunt and uncle and cousins were also there to see her family sealed. “Afterward, we all held hands together. We looked in the mirrors and thought about eternity,” she recalls. “It was beautiful. I knew I wanted to belong to my family forever.”

On occasion, mission leaders can postpone serving due to business or family concerns. When Heidi and I were being considered as mission leaders, we had previously discussed that if we were given that option, we would delay going for one year because this change could be a significant struggle for our daughter who was going to be a senior in high school. We weren’t even sure that this daughter would go with us on the mission.

With that as background, we met with President Oaks. As we walked into his office, he said, “I’ve been studying about you and asking the Lord two questions: First, does He want you to serve? And second, if He does, when would He want you to serve?”

President Oaks continued: “I have felt impressions about those two questions, but before I share my feelings, I would like to know yours.”

Now I have felt pressure before in my life, but this was low-key next-level!

I was grateful that President Oaks turned to Heidi first.

“I don’t know the answer to the first question,” she said, “but about the timing of when we should go, I think we should go now.”

My jaw hit the floor. I turned to Heidi and whispered, “What did you say? I thought we talked about this.”

She whispered back, “I know. I’m sorry!”

To which I replied, “Well, that’s just not gonna cut it!”

President Oaks began to be amused at this. He chuckled and finally said, “Well, my feelings align with Sister Shumway’s.”

Now I felt about two inches tall. But I found the courage to express our concern for our daughter.

President Oaks tenderly replied: “I understand. I’d like to visit with her.”

We were stunned. With President Oaks’s busy schedule, how would he ever manage this?

Still, we set up this meeting with two of our daughters. In the meeting, President Oaks again asked us to share our feelings. Heidi and I went first, followed by our younger daughter Sophie.

Then President Oaks turned to Callie, and she began to cry. It was difficult for her to say anything.

President Oaks lovingly said: “Oh, sweet Callie, I have all the time in the world for you. When you are ready, we can chat.”

Then he patiently waited and kindly listened to Callie.

Did President Oaks have all the time in the world? No! And yet he took time to love and minister to the one.

He blessed me. He blessed my daughters. He blessed our family. And now, as God’s living prophet, he blesses the entire world!

Yes, President Oaks is the Lord’s voice “unto the ends of the earth.”5 To accomplish the mighty work of dispelling darkness that I spoke of earlier, you will need to know this truth deeply for yourself. But I also hope you know that President Oaks is a loving and compassionate disciple of Jesus Christ who is personally interested in helping each one of us return to live with God.

I saw this truth with our Callie—who did decide to join us in the mission field and had a life-changing experience.

We have visited the actual grove in Palmyra, New York, on many occasions. It is one of my favorite places on this globe. My family all know that if I ever win an all-expense-paid trip to anywhere in the world, I will most likely choose Palmyra! I would like to share with you one of our many experiences.

Sacred Grove 2006
A grandpa and two little grandsons, hand in hand, on the path to the Sacred Grove. They had just come from the Hill Cumorah Visitors’ Center, where they had watched the movie of the First Vision. As they approached the entrance to the grove, grandpa asks the boys if they were ready to go in there. Brayden, the older of the two, said that he didn’t want to go in. Not expecting that for an answer, grandpa asked, “Why not?” His answer: “Because Satan is in there!” He remembered from the film that Satan attacked the boy Joseph Smith, bound his tongue, and tried to stop his communication with God. The Spirit prompted grandpa to ask what Joseph did when Satan attacked.

The boys responded, “He prayed harder.”
“And who came?”
“Heavenly Father and Jesus.”
“Yes, they did, and they kicked Satan out, and I don’t think he has been back since!”

With that explanation, they were good to enter.

Both of these boys, our two oldest grandsons are currently sharing their Witnesses of the Living Father and Son in a foreign tongue, called to Guatemala and Armenia/Georgia.

One major hill we encountered came at about 11:55 a.m. on June 3, 2001. I had stood up to close our ward’s fast and testimony meeting when I felt a sharp pain and a tearing sensation followed by the gushing of blood in my left pelvis. The thought came to me quite distinctly: “I just ruptured my femoral artery. I am going to bleed to death in a few minutes.” I looked out over the congregation to my family, thinking that it might be the last time I would see them in this life. I debated whether I should say something but decided that I did not want to disrupt the spirit of the meeting. So, after announcing the closing hymn and prayer, I just sat down. Our sacrament meeting was last in the block schedule, and I knew that I had several interviews to conduct and other business that needed to be addressed after the meeting. I was still alive and decided to continue in my duties.

Nearly six hours later I finally took the time to go to the emergency room. I explained to the nurse at the reception desk that I thought I had ruptured my femoral artery at noon that day. She kind of chuckled and said, “No, you would be dead by now.” She asked me to describe the pain and thought it was probably a kidney stone.

We sat in the waiting room for about 30 minutes. When we were finally taken back to an exam room and were able to see a doctor, I described the pain and said that I thought I had ruptured my femoral artery at about noon that day. He gave a little chuckle and said, “You would probably be dead if that were true.” He also indicated that he thought it was a kidney stone. He ordered a differential CAT scan to look for the stone.

A few minutes after the procedure, the doctor came back into the room and said, quite soberly, “There is a large pool of blood in your lower left abdomen.” I was rushed to another hospital and prepped for emergency vascular surgery. It turned out that I had actually ruptured my left iliac artery, which is larger than the femoral. The reason I did not bleed to death is that shortly after the aneurysm, a flap of inner arterial lining folded over, occluding the artery above the rupture. Experiences like this provide evidence for the truth that God knows each of us personally. We are cared for as individuals. He knows exactly how to succor us.

Just one month ago, our campus experienced tragedy and sorrow. In those most intense moments, I worked shoulder to shoulder with faculty, staff, and students who exemplified the compassion of being a true follower of Christ. They used every ounce of strength they had to sustain the people around them. And the people around them in turn supported and uplifted them when they needed help. I want to express my gratitude to each one of you.
As I think about us being an example, one of our recent graduates stands out in my mind. In that time of deep sorrow and tragedy, which she was feeling as deeply as many others, I saw her mustering up the strength to embrace and comfort those who were struggling with the trauma. I saw as she sat with them day and night to ensure that they had food and water and someone to care for them if they needed it. I saw her walk her friends to and from sessions with our counseling services. I watched her help them seek joy and laughter in these difficult moments.
Her Christlike compassion makes all the difference for the people around her. She is a fulfillment of President McKay’s prophecies and exemplifies the pattern and blessings of covenant belonging. She probably did not see herself as heroic, but to me, she was.

When I was in my early twenties I had the opportunity to go on a BYU tour called “the footsteps of Paul”. It started in Greece and headed north up to Turkey curving around the Mediterranean then down through Syria to Israel stopping at all the spots the Apostle Paul traveled and preached. We were a very excited group of about 35. Around two weeks before leaving I had felt some strange pains on my side but dismissed it as excitement and preparation for the trip. As we traveled around the ruins getting on and off the bus I could feel the pain getting increasingly worse. I did not want to miss a thing but rather wanted to see as much as I could, so I kept silent and endured.We had seen so many wonderful places and important religious sites and my excitement grew because the next day we would be in Istanbul, Turkey where we were scheduled to have a Turkish bath. I wasn’t sure what that entailed but if it was on a BYU itinerary it must be OK.That morning I was very nauseous, dizzy, buckled over with pain. I was unable to stand let alone walk. I reluctantly told the group I was not able to participate on the tour that day. It was a terrible day of tossing, turning, braking out in a terrible sweat, and vomiting. I took several baths to try to feel better. Later that day the fever was gone and I actually felt quite a bit better.

There was a family doctor on the trip with us and he came to my room to see if he could help. He soon figured out that when my fever broke and I started feeling better was probably the moment that my appendix had ruptured. I was informed there was not enough time to get me back to the US, it was about a twelve-hour flight, and that was to long for an already ruptured appendix.The tour director and doctor whooshed me into a taxi and to the American Admiral Bristol hospital. I ended up staying in the hospital for 10 days. Ten precious sight-seeing days. The tour had to continue on their journey and so they left me there. After making sure I awoke from surgery and was OK, the tour director left to catch up with the group in Syria. It was arranged that I would fly to Tel Aviv and meet up with the Tour in Jerusalem. I remember looking up at the ceiling in my room and saying out loud, “Okay Heavenly father it’s just you and me.” I felt safe, fine, cared for and comforted.

Soon I found out that the Director had made contact with a Turkish student that had attended and graduated from BYU Provo. He was so kind. He visited me every day and we just chatted and he kept me company. Later, I found out that he had to travel by bus and train one way to get to the hospital. He was a member of the church tending and caring for another member of the church very far from home. When I arrived in Tel Aviv, I was greeted by an American church member who, with his family was on assignment in Jerusalem. I spent that night at their home and I met the tour group the next morning. My incision was still open and draining and I had to use a wheel chair but I was back with my group once again.

After the tour, I found myself safely back home with my parents. But more and more as the days passed and I could reflect on this experience the reality hit me. I thought about what actually happened and where it happened. Then I began to marvel at the whole thing. At the time, I felt so comforted, safe and loved that I didn’t experience fear. I had no worries or concerns about anything. The Holy Ghost was with me every step of the way.In this experience, there were so many perfectly placed individuals, even ministering angels, just for me to help with my every need.

There was a doctor who could diagnose the danger, the doctor that did the surgery who could speak English and had studied in the US, there was a member family working for BYU living in Jerusalem, there was a native tour guide who was very willing to get me to the airport and see me on the plane so I could get from Turkey to Israel, there was a friend in the Gospel that helped my spirit, and there was a wonderful tour director, who was a school mate of my dad’s, that promised my parents he would take care of me. And... I felt the comforting embrace of the Holy Ghost every minute of every hour.

Were all these individuals a coincidence? I know they were not.

Their call to serve is especially significant for Monic, as she grew up and was baptised in the Netherlands.

“It warms my heart to be able to meet those people again that received me with so much love 30 years ago,” she said. “They were the foundation of my personal journey in the gospel. I know I did a lot of receiving back then. Now, I hope to be able to give and help build up the Lord’s Church in the Netherlands.”

As a teenager, Monic was invited to the baptism of a young boy whom she babysat. After attending the baptism, she began attending other Church events and activities and soon fell in love with the people. She started reading the Book of Mormon. As she read, she found herself not being able to put it down — there was something unique about it. She was baptised shortly after and said it was the best thing she ever did.

Now, 30 years later, Monic is once again reading the same Dutch Book of Mormon from which she studied as a young adult while investigating the Church. Instead of reading to find direction and answers in her own life, she is now reading and preparing to help others find answers to their questions.

When the time came for my mission, I felt prepared. I had attended seminary for two years, I took the missionary preparation class, and I went to institute. I felt spiritually strong at the time, but my parents began to increase their persecution. My whole family was involved in trying to get me out of the Church.
I submitted my mission papers and received my call to serve in the Brazil Recife Mission. I told my parents I was going to Recife to represent Jesus Christ as a missionary. My father fought with me, and my mother went so far as to burn my church clothes and throw my books away. They were very angry.
I did not go on a mission. This was the hardest time in my life. I wanted to serve a mission, but I faced great opposition. I did nothing wrong, but I became discouraged and depressed, and I still suffered persecution at home. My parents hoped I would give up and not go to church anymore.
It was difficult for me to be a young man and to not be on a mission. I felt inferior to my friends who had already left on missions, and I felt alone at church. Some people thought I did not go because I was unworthy. But I did my best to remain firm in the faith.
During this time I met Kelly, who would become my wife. When I met her, my depression lifted and I was able to see myself as a child of God. Kelly was not a member of the Church when we started dating. We were eventually married, and after some time I baptized her. It was a special and sacred moment for me.
After our first child, Rafael, was born, we brought him to church to receive a blessing. My parents attended the blessing. It was the first time they ever went to church. From then on they started to hear the missionary lessons in their home. I eventually had the privilege to baptize my brothers and my parents.
It is funny because my father was very systematic about it. He said, “My son, when are you going to baptize me?” When he was baptized, I raised him out of the water and he hugged me. It was such an extraordinary moment in my life!
Years later I met with Elder Jairo Mazzagardi of the Seventy when he came to reorganize our stake. He asked me about my mission.
Elder Mazzagardi said, “Brother Murilo, I see that you were baptized when you were 16, but you did not serve a mission.”
“I did not serve a mission,” I said, starting to cry.
“But I do everything possible so the Lord will forgive me. I have served as a branch president for seven months, and I try to be a missionary and give my best. I work hard to help others. I want the Lord to forgive me. I do not want this blemish at the last day.”
“Brother Murilo,” he said, “do not look back; look forward. Whoever looks back walks backwards, and whoever looks forward walks forward. You are clean.”
I was happy to hear this! I felt light, happy, and peaceful.
It felt like a six-ton backpack was lifted off my back.
He told me to return with my wife and called me to serve as stake president.
Elder Mazzagardi then said, “Your experiences will help you be stake president. You will be able to help young people who have difficulties or who do not have the support of their parents. You did not have the opportunity to serve a mission, but this is your mission now. You will help send young people on missions.”
As stake president one of my main goals is to help young men and young women prepare to serve missions. The Lord has given me the right words at the right time to talk to these young people. I am grateful the Lord has given me the opportunity to help others choose to serve missions.

After young Gordon had been ordained a deacon, his father took him—somewhat unwillingly, he recalls—to a stake priesthood meeting. While his father as stake president took his place on the stand, Gordon sat on the back row. During the singing of the opening hymn, “Praise to the Man,” his attitude changed. “As I heard them sing that hymn with power and conviction, there came into my heart a witness of the divine calling of the boy Joseph, and I am grateful that the Lord has sustained that witness through more than seventy years since then” (Ensign, Nov. 1993, p. 51).

Several days after I returned home, the missionaries asked me to help them teach a lesson. The investigator was a science student, and he was struggling with some of the same questions I had confronted when I was studying the same subjects. I explained to him how I had found answers to the questions, and when we left he seemed satisfied and happy.
A few days later, the missionaries called to tell me he was joining the Church. “How about that,” I told myself. “Here I am, able to help someone else accept baptism, and not myself. This has lasted long enough!” I felt I had a testimony, but I fasted and prayed. I stayed up the whole night pleading with the Lord to seal this testimony in me. Finally, early in the morning, a sweet, peaceful calm filled my soul. I knew I had to tell the elders I was ready to be baptized.

In contrast to the Thongchalerms’ large home is the simple wooden dwelling of Boonthom and Suwan Pamangkata and their six-year-old daughter, Suchitra.
Brother Pamangkata ekes out a living operating a pedicab, a passenger-carrying tricycle. He works about ten hours a day and would like to work more, but he has poor nighttime vision because of cataracts developing in both eyes. He used to have a pair of glasses to help him see better, but someone stole them. He can’t afford another pair.
Sister Pamangkata supplements the family income by cooking and cleaning for other people and by selling beautifully made crocheted items.
Brother Pamangkata studied Christianity in his youth, but there was no church available for him to join. As a married man, he met the LDS missionaries, who rekindled his interest in the Savior. Sister Pamangkata was impressed with the gospel message, but she was reluctant to be baptized. “But then, before my husband was baptized, he started living the Word of Wisdom. It helped him overcome the smoking and drinking that wasted a lot of our income. Seeing what the gospel did in his life helped my testimony develop, and I was baptized. Now, every day, I find strength in gospel principles.”

After our marriage, surgical treatment was necessary to help make it possible for me to bear children. I was afraid of the surgery because during my teens I had suffered problems with my heart; even though I had been given reassurances by my doctor, I feared anesthesia, thinking it might somehow affect me adversely. The night before the operation, my husband stayed at the hospital with me and we read the Book of Mormon together. As I started to feel the effects of the medication I had been given, I prayed to the Lord to help me control my fear. These words of Mormon came into my mind: “Know ye not that ye are in the hands of God? Know ye not that he hath all power?” (Morm. 5:23).
Awakening after the operation was an unpleasant experience. I could not talk. I heard my husband’s voice and wanted to speak, to thank him for his support, but I could not. My physical faculties were so limited that I thought about Alma the younger when he fell down, chastised by an angel, and spent two days unable to talk or move (see Mosiah 27:10–23; Alma 36:5–23). I remembered that Alma was born to a new life at that time, repenting to fulfill his important mission, and I realized that I was suffering through my own experience to fulfill the important mission of being a mother, to participate in providing bodies for our Heavenly Father’s children.