Gospel Story Finder

The young missionary had spent the morning scrubbing the floors of the mission home, washing and ironing his shirts, and mending his socks. Then, since it was preparation day, he had decided to visit the university library. Finding nothing of particular interest in the book stacks, he pulled out his own copy of the Doctrine and Covenants and began reading section 76—Joseph Smith’s vision of heaven.
He became so absorbed in the Prophet’s description that he didn’t notice the passing of time, and it was night when he finally left the library. As he walked across the spacious lawn toward the streetcar, he looked up into the heavens: “There was no moon, but the sky was clear. … The Southern Cross and other brilliant stars, visible in the Southern Hemisphere, shone with unusual grandeur. As I gazed in wonder, I seemed to see beyond the stars the things I had been reading about. I could not then and I have not been able since to recall walking across the lawn.”
Retelling this experience in 1965, President Romney said: “Since that Saturday evening in Sydney, Australia, forty-three years ago, I have never been content to view life through the lens which reveals only the narrow span between mortal birth and death. I cannot remember of having made, during the intervening years, a single voluntary major decision or judgment without testing it by my knowledge of revealed truth.” (Address delivered at Brigham Young University, 27 May 1965, p. 20.)

When Relan G. Macam (third child of Yolanda Gayatin and Reuel F. Macam of 39-F Tabayok, Sta. Mesa Heights, Quezon City) was born on September 17, 1975, his father and mother gradually fell away from the Church, after being members for only three months.
It was a situation difficult to understand. Both were active in the beginning. Ruel expressed spiritual joy to relatives present during his baptism at being born again together with Yolanda. He developed new interest and experienced excitement in reading and pondering upon the Scriptures. He avoided friends who were inclined to passing time with drinking and smoking sessions. Upon the birth of Relan, his life began to change. Sabbath day did not anymore provide him with a feeling of spirituality.
Home teachers called on the family, only to be turned away by Yolanda with the shallow excuse that household duties occupied her time and that Reuel was busy with provincial assignments. A group from the Elders Quorum of his branch paid a special visit, but Yolanda was prepared with the excuse that her husband was still in the provinces on business (he was in fact upstairs, impatiently waiting for the group to leave). As a last resort, the missionary elders who baptized them tried to bring them back to the Church—without success—as Reuel reverted to his old ways of smoking, drinking and carousing with friends.
Not long thereafter, strange occurrences began to disrupt the family life of the Macams. Relan became sickly, and his parents had to bring him to the hospital at frequent intervals. Unpaid bills and household expenses began to mount, and Reuel soon found himself heavily in debt. He, too, looked pale and sickly. The burden of motherly chores also exacted heavy toll on Yolanda, looking after the other kids in between hospital visits to Relan. Life for the two of them began to look like a trail of thorns.
Then, during one evening of soul-searching, Reuel was jolted by a thought in his mind. Could it be that son Relan was protesting in his cradle of innocence over the wayward life of his father? Could it be that Relan, in his guiltlessness, was telling him that turning his back to the covenant he made was not pleasing in the sight of God?
For, Relan had an extraordinary experience while still throbbing with life in his mother’s womb. On June 21, 1975, when Reuel and Yolanda were baptized by Elder Round in the Quezon City chapel, Yolanda was heavy with child, in fact, six months in the family way with Relan. This baby boy was immersed in the baptismal font with his mother even before he was born into this world!
The second day of January, 1977, a repentant father entered the Quezon City chapel. A cry of joy came from one of the members. “It’s Brother Macam, it’s Brother Macam! Welcome back!”
After having been away from the Church one year and three months, Reuel F. Macam returned like the prodigal son—silently nurturing the thought that his infant son, Relan, showed the way back.—P. Ocampo, Jr.
Editor’s Note: Bro. Macam is now Sunday School President, Quezon City III Ward, Quezon City, Philippines Stake.

Mom looked at her phone. “Oh no! Aunt Alyssa is in the hospital.”
Millie felt like her stomach dropped. She knew the hospital was a place where people went when they were very sick. But this was the first time one of her family members had to stay there.
“What can we do to help her?” Millie asked.
“Let’s find out.” Mom called Aunt Alyssa. Millie got to say hello, which made her happy. Aunt Alyssa told them that she had been sick for a week. She hoped she would be able to come home from the hospital in a few days.
“I think I know how we can help her,” Mom said after the phone call. “We need some supplies.”
A few hours later, Millie and Mom walked up the stairs to Aunt Alyssa’s apartment. They carried a bucket full of rags, soap, and scrub brushes. They were on a cleaning mission!
First Millie helped Mom wash the dishes. Then she helped fold some laundry. She wiped off the kitchen table and swept the floor too.
While she worked, Millie thought about how much she loved Aunt Alyssa. Whenever Mom and Dad had to work at the same time, Aunt Alyssa came to stay with her. Sometimes they went to the park together. They liked to watch people walk their dogs by the river.
After lots of hard work, Mom said they were almost done. Millie helped her put clean sheets on Aunt Alyssa’s bed.
“I have an idea,” Mom said. “Let’s not tell Aunt Alyssa what we did yet. That way, it will be a surprise when she gets home from the hospital!”
Millie giggled as she thought of what her aunt’s face would look like when she opened the door.
“Let’s leave her a note too!” Millie said.
Mom folded a piece of paper and wrote a note inside. Millie wrote, “Get better soon!” on the front and drew lots of hearts on it. They left it on Aunt Alyssa’s pillow.
“Thanks for going on a cleaning mission with me today,” Mom said on the way home. “Aunt Alyssa will be so happy and surprised.”
Millie grinned. She was still sad that Aunt Alyssa was sick. But helping had made Millie feel a little bit better. She hoped her aunt would feel better soon too!
This story took place in the USA.

Why do I say that? Here’s one reason: I knew a boy who faced an unexpected and challenging decision. He faced it at the end of the summer in the year he turned fifteen. He had just returned home after working all summer on his uncle’s farm in another part of the state.
It was the first sacrament meeting he had attended since returning home. For some reason, he was detained a few minutes after the meeting. When he found his friends, they were standing in a group just outside the church building. As he approached, he noticed that they were concluding some kind of agreement. When he joined them, he was met with a seemingly innocent question: “Are you going in with us on it or not?”
“On what?” was his reply.
“On a half gallon of beer.”
That answer really shook him. He was not ready for it. His group had always been good kids. This question was completely out of character, he thought. But things were not as he remembered them. He had spent his summer away from his pals, and this had kept him more or less as he was. Something, however, had happened to change his friends. They seemed more grown up and worldly. This surprise made him falter before answering their question. It’s strange how many things can go through your mind in a flash: These were his friends. They were not enemies. He knew each one well. He had sat in Primary and Sunday School classes with them. They had sung songs together. Some of them had been ordained deacons the same Sunday. They had passed the sacrament together scores of times. Their school activities had brought them close. With some of them he had built toy airplanes and scooters and played rubber guns. They had hiked and worked and played together. Why should this simple question threaten this choice association?
Pressure from friends and acquaintances our own age is tremendously powerful! There is a desire to want to be “one” with friends. Besides, who wants to be a sissy, afraid to join in the fun. What’s more, if he didn’t join them, he would be one against the crowd.
But even with all of these ideas running through his head, another idea impressed itself even harder on his mind. There was one reason that stood out against all that seemed so appealing: It was not right. From somewhere within him came the courage to say, “No, I don’t think I will.”
The group turned away and strode across the street toward the beer hall, intent on carrying out their plan. My friend was left standing—alone. I’m sure he did not think of the Lord’s statement, “It is not good for man to be alone,” but he certainly understood its meaning in a new and personal way. He came to understand the truth of that statement in the days that followed and to see why all of us need true and loyal friends who believe and live as they should.
Even though he was fifteen—going on sixteen—tears came to his eyes as he walked home. His mother, sensing that something was wrong, asked, “What has happened?”
He blurted out the short experience.
“You’ve done right, my son” she reassured him.
“I wish I were as sure as you are,” he answered.
“You made the right decision,” she repeated, “and you’ll see. You will be blessed.”
The days that followed this incident were not especially happy ones. It took readjustments to establish his equilibrium. There followed a process of establishing new friendships. There was the inevitable heartache at school when conversations would grind to a stop as he joined his former group. There were moments of loneliness as he walked between the high school and the adjacent industrial arts building. What was formerly spontaneous fun and youthful sport changed to a subdued good humor. There were some obvious moments in basketball practice, too, when he would be in the clear and call for the pass, only to be ignored while another person was sought out to receive the ball.
But that all passed as everyone knows it will. Time is the great eraser. It dulls the former sad moments. It smooths hurts and salves wounds.
It was not long until former friendships were reestablished, although on a different basis than before. In a little more than a year, this young man was elected seminary studentbody president. The next year he was elected high school studentbody president by his friends. Two years later he entered the mission field, the only one of his class to do so. One classmate went on a mission the following year, but his other friends never did.
This young man has since fulfilled many calls to service and responsibility in the Church. Other tests of his integrity and moral standards have come into his life—as they come into the lives of us all. But few such tests have been so well-remembered or have made so lasting an impression on his life.
In a rather undramatic situation, he chose the right. And his mother was right, as mothers generally are. Her promise was literally fulfilled: “You’ll see. You will be blessed.”

A Modern-Day Example
I received a letter from a returned missionary whom I shall call Elder Carnalus Luciferno, for no one in his right mind would have such a name, and my correspondent was certainly out of his mind.
His letter told me of his own conversion, of his service as a zone leader in the mission field, and of making many converts. But after returning home, as he expressed it, “I returned to my old Gentile ways.”
After thus ceasing to be a true Saint, and becoming a genuine Gentile, he met some representatives of another church who taught him that we are saved by grace, without works, simply by believing in the Lord Jesus.
Thereupon he was saved, and his letter, which he sent to many people, was an invitation to these others to believe in Christ and be saved as he was saved.
Later I said to his mission president, “Tell me about Elder Carnalus Luciferno.”
“Oh,” he said, “Elder Carnalus Luciferno was a good missionary who made many converts. But since returning home he has been excommunicated.”
“Oh,” I said. “What was his problem?”
The mission president replied, “Before he joined the Church, he was a homosexual, and we understood that since his release he has reverted to his old ways.”

One Saturday during my mission to Guatemala, my companion and I decided to visit Benita. She and her husband, Isaías, were faithful members of the Church. Isaías was continually in search of ways to bring in enough money to support his family. To supplement his efforts, Benita raised chickens to sell them and their eggs.
When we arrived we could tell that Benita was upset. She explained that, after her husband had gone to work in a distant village, her chickens had all become sick, and one had already died. She knew they could not get by without these chickens. She felt frustrated and helpless.
Trying to console her, we sang some hymns and shared our testimonies. We offered to say a prayer with her. When we said this, her face lit up. She asked me to pray and petition Heavenly Father to bless her chickens. I was caught off guard—I had never thought of chickens as subjects for prayer. But then I thought of Amulek’s admonition to “cry unto [God] … over all your flocks” (Alma 34:20). I realized that Benita’s chickens were her flock.
I gave the prayer, telling Heavenly Father that Benita’s husband was gone, that one of her chickens had died, that the rest were sick, and that she didn’t know what to do. I told Heavenly Father that her heart ached and asked Him to please bless her chickens. Benita thanked us for visiting, and we left.
The next day at church, Benita told us of her chickens’ recovery. Each time I think of Benita, I think of God’s love for us and His desire to bless us—if we will just ask.

My mother had a much more difficult time with my brother passing. She had been suffering from dementia for over 10 years. Nine months later (two days before Clara was born), I received an email from my father. He said:

This evening I took Margaret [my mother] to eat. While eating she had a rather bad memory loss. I will list some of the questions that she was asking me.
? Where are the kids?
? How old was Dianne [my sister] when we got her? (my sister is adopted)
? How did we get her?
? Where is she?
? Where is Alan [my brother]?
? How old was Dianne when we got her?
? Where does she live?
? Where is Alan?
? How did he die?
? When did he die?
? Where is he?
? Who is at the house?
? Where are the kids?
She repeated many of these questions several times, and asked many more. I have never seen her this out of it.

As I read this message from my father, I felt a flood of desperate emotions come over me. I wanted to visit my mother right then and take care of her. Please note that this was a mere 9 months after my brother had died. She had gone downward way faster than any of us expected and the stress of the loss of her son had truly wreaked havoc with her mind. Two days later my daughter Clara was born into the world and happiness ensued for our family - I’m back at the top of that roller coaster. After this email, and the first chance that I got, I bought a ticket to see my Mom and Dad. We weren’t able to take everyone, and my purpose for visiting was to visit my mom, and help out at their house if I could. Because I was leaving my family, I prayed about the dates that I should go. The Spirit told me very strongly to leave on June 8th, and return on July 5th. June 8th was the earliest that I could leave, but I was puzzled by July 5th. It’s not in my nature to be off island away from my family on the July 4th. That’s one of my kids most favorite holiday. But the Spirit spoke and told me to be there until then. It seemed strange, but I followed the prompting.

For the first week, I had a chance to see how she was. She didn't know her address, she thought she was in Midway, Utah, where she grew up. When I pointed out a picture of me and my family on the wall, she knew some of my kids and not the others, and she didn’t know me. That was really difficult for me and I had a very difficult time coming to terms that my mother didn’t know who I was. It was especially hard for me because she recognized my sister Dianne and my brother Alan both of whom are older than me. I decided to try and help my mom remember.

A few months previous to this, my wife very wisely had sent a small photo album of our baby Clara’s birth and the first few months to my Mom so that she could get to know her. My mom sat for hours looking at the book and reading it. On each page, she recognized a few people, and asked about the rest. What was hard was that she would ask the same questions over and over again. I had to exercise patience like I would with a little child. My temper and frustration grew and grew. For the first few nights I had a lot of anger and rage over losing my mother even though she was still physically with me. Even though she was alive, I felt that she was dead. I felt like my life was over. Why did Heavenly Father so quickly take my mother from me? In response, what did God do? I remember vividly seeing her the next morning, and she perked up when she saw me, and asked “How are you?, It’s nice to see you”. I got a hug from her - it felt just like her hugs that I had 40 years ago when I was a child - my mom was still there! She still didn’t know my name, but she loved me and I could feel that love. I decided to busy myself in helping them clean the house. I found myself watching the wonderful things that she did, like watching General Conference and having ice cream cones several times a week. Those two things could always make her feel better!

My dad watched me struggle and finally wisely suggested that we take my Mom on a trip to Utah to visit with her sisters. He could see that I needed to have some positive memories of my mother. The drive was quite long, a 15-17 hour drive, which we split up over 3 days. During this trip, we decided to stop and see the sights with my Mom, which included stops at pink sand dunes, Zion National Park, Kanab, and the Grand Canyon.

I spent a month with her, helping care for her. I had a enjoyable time being with her and my father. She had become a lot like a little kid. The day that we arrived back in Yuma, I offered to my dad to extend my ticket and stay longer so I could help them. He thought about it for a minute and then declined. I didn’t protest, as the Spirit kicked me and told me to go back on July 5th as planned. As I was dropped off at the airport, the Spirit testified to me that I would never see my mother alive on this earth again. I gave my mother my last hug, and prepared myself to deal with that realization.

Little did I know that she would die 10 days later. The day after I came back (July 6th), she suffered a stroke. The initial prognosis was good - she was eating and there was talk of rehabilitation, and I had a chance to talk with her on the phone. She sounded in good spirits. I was in good spirits - God had tempered my emotions with love from him and my mother. I knew that whatever happened, it would be okay. Over the next week she slowly declined until she died on July 14th. My dad said that her death was one of the most spiritual experiences of his life. I believe that God was watching over all of my family at this time. If I had stayed one more day, I would not have gone home and been there to comfort my children and family, which I was able to do because he had comforted and loved me! Shortly after, we planned a trip back up to the mainland with my wife and part of my kids, where my daughters Elena, Emma, and Clara replayed the trip that my Dad and I had with my Mom as we travelled for her funeral.

Illustration by Truina Dalziel/Lilla Rogers Studio
I was interested in learning about my Italian ancestors, so a few years ago I began researching my genealogy. A day did not go by that I did not do some research to find them. Eventually, I found the birth record of my third great-grandfather from Italy. Finding his record touched me in such a way that I felt I should continue searching for my ancestors.
As I did, I found many ancestors I had never even heard of. I also met a young woman through social media named Ingrid Zanini. We suspected that we might somehow be related because we share the same last name. During our conversation, Ingrid told me that she was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She talked to me about the Church, and said she would send me a copy of the Book of Mormon. As soon as the book arrived, I began reading it.
One day at work, a young woman named Erika noticed that I had the Book of Mormon with me. I will never forget the expression on her face—she was so happy and excited. She asked if I was enjoying the book and if I would like to go to church with her and her brother. Two weeks after receiving the Book of Mormon, I attended church for the first time.
The lesson that day in Sunday School was on baptisms for the dead and the importance of family history. I was very interested. I met the missionaries and attended a meeting about family history that afternoon at the stake center. As I investigated the Church, I could feel the presence of my ancestors, and I felt encouraged to learn more.
When the missionaries invited me to be baptized, I paused to think about everything that had happened since I began doing my family history. Being introduced to the gospel and learning about the eternal importance of family history could not have been just a coincidence. I accepted the missionaries’ invitation to be baptized.
I still do family history, and I am grateful to know that my efforts in searching for my ancestors can now bring eternal blessings to them because I found the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Jesus Christ was kind to everyone He met. He is a great example of kindness to me. One day when I was in first grade, I was the leader of the day in my class. Part of being a leader of the day was choosing someone to help me carry the lunch basket filled with lunch boxes to the cafeteria. I stood in front of the class and looked out at my classmates, trying to decide who to choose. All of my good friends were raising their hands, and at first I wanted to choose one of them. But then I noticed a boy standing in the back of the room. He didn’t have many friends, and sometimes people were not very nice to him. He never got chosen for anything. Something inside my heart told me to pick him. When I picked him to be my helper, everyone else acted surprised, but he got a big smile on his face. After lunch my teacher pulled me aside and whispered in my ear, “Thank you for picking him. That was a very kind thing to do.” All day I felt really good inside.

If he so chose, Aleksandr Chervyakov could have it all materially. Nine years ago he founded his own food technology company. Clients come from all over Ukraine and even Russia to take advantage of his firm’s services. “Without the Church, I could have easily become one of those people who works all the time and earns more than enough money but lacks the blessings of a loving eternal family,” Brother Chervyakov admits.
Fortunately, when two young missionaries asked if he would like to know more about Jesus Christ, he said yes. He and his wife, Lyudmila, and daughter, Inna, were baptized in 1995. Since then he has reduced his time at work so that he can nurture relationships within his family as well as serve in the Church. He has been the branch president and is currently second counselor in the branch presidency. The Chervyakovs were sealed in the temple in August 1997.
“One thing that has helped us keep our priorities in order has been family home evening,” says Aleksandr. “It’s so easy to forget what is truly important. Monday nights provide a great opportunity to forget about everything that is not important and to concentrate on our family.”
He says of their family home evening activities: “We always read from the scriptures or from the Liahona. If there are any family-related issues, we discuss them. Right now the question is, Which university will Inna enter when she graduates next year? We have been discussing that a lot lately. And we have fun. I think it’s a great secret of life that being with one’s family is fun. Sometimes we even dance.”

The first time we were in a shoot,” Abe says, “it was like, ‘You guys ready to start? Okay, let’s pray. All the cameramen, the sound guys, us, the directors, and the producers all came in and we prayed. We know what we’re there for, and we ask the Lord to help us.

Ivey tells about going to St. George, Utah, and Valley of Fire, Nevada, to film on location. “We shot real film rather than video, so we could get the beautiful scenery. But real film is more expensive. The cameramen bought special equipment so they could film in the sun. There was a huge storm. But it had to be sunny. That day was the last time we could film.
“We prayed and the weather cleared up in time for us to do our shots. We finished our last take and then the clouds came in and it was totally cloudy and snowing. Our director said to remember to thank Heavenly Father for the break in the weather, because it had cleared just long enough for us to do what we had to do.”

My parents supported me in all my decisions. Mom and Dad stood with me on the stand in sacrament meeting the day I received my Young Womanhood medallion. They were there when I graduated from seminary. They were with me when I received my patriarchal blessing, and they supported me as I attended Ricks College.
They were both with me the day I walked to the doors of the temple. I had finally reached the day when I would enter the temple and receive the blessings I had learned about. The angel Moroni, glowing in the early morning sun on the temple spire, seemed to proclaim my joy to the world. I kissed my parents good-bye as I entered.
If I had waited to decide where to marry, it would have been too difficult to leave my parents outside and be married inside the temple. I wouldn’t have had a strong enough testimony of the gospel and the importance of the temple. I may not even have had the opportunity to decide. Leaders, bishops, and friends helped me. My family supported me. But I never would have made it if I hadn’t first decided that I was going to the temple.
In the temple I learned more about Heavenly Father’s plan for me. I hadn’t reached the end of my goal at all. I had only made one more step. So I decided right then to keep my temple promises, no matter how difficult. I decided I was someday going to return to my Heavenly Father.

I was called to a home in a little village in New Zealand one day. There the Relief Society sisters were preparing the body of one of our Saints. They had placed his body in front of the big house, as they call it, the house where the people come to wail and weep and mourn over the dead, when in rushed the dead man’s brother. He said, “Administer to him.”
And the young natives said, “Why, you shouldn’t do that. He’s dead.”
“You do it!”
… I had [a faithful old Maori] with me. … The younger native got down on his knees and he anointed this man. Then this great old sage got down and blessed him and commanded him to rise.
You should have seen the Relief Society sisters scatter. He sat up and said, “Send for the elders; I don’t feel very well.” … We told him he had just been administered to, and he said, “Oh, that was it.” He said, “I was dead. I could feel life coming back into me just like a blanket unrolling.” He outlived the brother that came in and told us to administer to him. …
God does have control of all of these elements. You and I can reach out, and if it’s His will, we can bring those elements under our control for His purposes.

One of my favorite hobbies is Irish dance. I try hard to practice my choreography at home so I am ready to perform. I practice very thoroughly, but when I am backstage about to perform, I commonly get the backstage jitters. At every competition, my mom and I find a quiet place to say a prayer. Sometimes it’s behind a curtain or in a room off to the side. I know that it doesn’t matter to Heavenly Father where we are, just that we have faith in Him.
At my last performance, my mom wasn’t with me to say a prayer. She was waiting in the audience. I got really nervous but decided that it didn’t matter if she was with me or not. I stepped away from my friends and said a prayer. I asked for safety as I danced and that I could do my best. I did very well that day, and I remember the feeling of peace that I felt as I walked on stage.

The “little handful of members” includes pioneers like Vichit Ith, a convert who was instrumental in helping the Church gain official recognition in Cambodia.
“The Church provides Cambodians with a way to seek spirituality, which for many Cambodians has been nearly absent for the past 20 years,” says Brother Ith: “The teachings of the Church help me more than anything else. I am more focused on my family life, and I am striving to keep the commandments.”
Though Cambodian refugees have been joining the Church around the world since the 1970s—in fact, several cities throughout the world have Cambodian-speaking units—the gospel did not officially enter their homeland until January 1993. Larry R. White, who was serving as Thailand Bangkok Mission president, heard a favorable report about religious progress in Cambodia. Elder John K. Carmack of the Seventy (then a member of the Asia Area Presidency), Brother Ith (who was then living in Thailand), and President White entered Cambodia to ask government representatives about the possibility of establishing humanitarian projects. They received a positive reception.
The time seemed right for their visit. Cambodia’s political and social situation has been extremely volatile—even brutal at times—since the nation became independent from France in 1953. Nevertheless, a United Nations-sponsored peace treaty was signed in 1991. Elections held soon after the first visit of Church representatives in 1993 went smoothly, allowing Cambodia to make much progress toward democracy and rebuilding. At that time, Brother Ith received an appointment as a special adviser to the new prime minister. (Today he is employed as president of Cambodia’s national airline and as secretary-general of the Cambodian Investment Board.) His influence was invaluable in helping Church leaders present their case.
Elder Carmack and President White soon returned to Cambodia to submit the Church’s formal application for legal recognition and to arrange for couple missionaries to assist the Cambodian people by teaching English, distributing clothing donated by Church members, participating in technical university projects, and sharing the gospel.
Legal recognition was granted to the Church in March 1994, and before the month ended, Donald C. and Scharlene Dobson of Logan, Utah, were transferred from their missionary labors in Madras, India, to Phnom Penh as Cambodia’s first missionaries. The first Church meeting was held at a hotel on 27 March 1994, with six members and nine investigators in attendance. On 9 May 1994, Sister Pahl Mao became the first member baptized in Cambodia.
Other humanitarian-service couples soon arrived, and four young proselyting elders were transferred to Cambodia from Cambodian-speaking missions in the United States of America.
Now, three years later, the Church in Cambodia has more than 400 members in four Phnom Penh branches—three Cambodian and one Vietnamese. The branches are under local leadership, with support provided when needed by couple missionaries. Four couples from the United States are advisers to the Royal University of Agriculture—two teaching English and two assisting in the university’s agricultural business operations. They, with 15 proselyting missionaries, serve in the Cambodia Phnom Penh Mission, which was created this year. In addition, the first native-born Cambodian missionary has been called. Elder Leang Chhay Suy now serves in the Idaho Pocatello Mission in the United States.
Prior to the creation of the new mission, Cambodia was part of the Thailand Bangkok Mission. Mission president Troy Lee Corriveau, who completed his assignment in Thailand in July, says that in the months following President Hinckley’s visit to Cambodia, there was a marked increase in converts. “We had approximately 40 converts a month for the next couple of months. Although many were single, we also had whole families baptized. It was a joy to see the happy faces of fathers and mothers coming to church with their children.
“The Saints here are excited about the gospel and the blessings it brings into their lives, especially the promise of eternal blessings in the temple. It’s a financial challenge for the Saints to get to the Manila Philippines Temple, but we hope to see the first Cambodian members making the trip this year.”
In the early days of the Church in Cambodia, one of the first converts was 18-year-old Vietnam native Phuong Hong Hanh. She first attended church in July 1994 because she was interested in learning English but she was soon converted to the gospel. “I knew it was right,” she said.
Another early convert, An Chea Maline, a Cambodian who joined the Church in May 1995 and served as a branch Primary president before emigrating to Australia, recalls that for a long time she knew nothing about God. “But now I know this Church is true,” she says. “It is a bright sun for me.”
Seng Suon, a convert of nearly a year, was a university student when missionaries met him. “I prayed to know if the Book of Mormon and the Church were true and if Joseph Smith was a prophet,” he says. “The answer came around midnight. I awoke, and everything seemed bright. I had the feeling that it all was true.”
When Theany Reath, a young adult in Cambodia, was investigating the Church two years ago, she worried that her family would be offended when she stopped praying to their deceased ancestors. To her relief, her parents have been tolerant of her new beliefs and behaviors. “I feel the love of my parents a great deal,” she says. “They respect my new practices, such as fasting, and they no longer expect me to drink tea with them.” Today she serves as a branch Young Women president.
Oum Borin, Cambodia’s first native branch president, along with his wife, Samay, joined the Church more than two years ago. “One night, my wife had a dream of two stars that fell into the house,” he recalls. “Then two missionaries came to our house, and we felt the stars symbolized the elders. I know this Church is the true Church of Christ.”
Ha Phuoc Thach and his wife, Nguyen Thi Hong, are Vietnamese converts of nearly three years. In 1990 all three of their teenage children were lost at sea in a boat filled with Vietnamese refugees. Despite—or perhaps because of—this tragedy, the couple embraced the gospel when they heard it. Speaking about their baptism, Ha Phuoc Thach says: “Our lives changed. It was a spiritual change.” His wife adds, “I want everyone to pray, because God does answer prayers.” He serves as a counselor in the branch presidency of the Vietnamese-speaking branch. His wife is the Relief Society president. When asked why with all they have suffered they are always smiling, the couple respond, “Because now we are happy.”
Their sentiments doubtless will be echoed in the years ahead by numerous other Asians as they embrace the gospel. In the dedicatory prayer, President Hinckley asked the Lord’s blessing upon “this land and this people that there may be peace, that there may be prosperity, that there may be harmony, and that Thy work may succeed.”

Well, I look about you and you look like a convention of the teenagers that have graced our home while we have been raising our eight children, sharing with us hundreds of gallons of ice cream and great barrels of carmel popcorn. On one occasion, when I was downtown, I called home and a young man answered the phone. I asked for each of my children in turn and he said, “None of them are here right now.”

I said, “Oh? Who is this?”

He said, “This is Brent.”

“What are you doing, Brent?”

“Oh, Bill and I are just sitting here having some chocolate ice cream and watching television.”

It is always open house at our place, and they know it. I thanked him kindly and told him to keep taking messages, and if anyone needed me I would be home soon.

For nine years Professor Marvin Hill and I had worked on the book Carthage Conspiracy, which concerns the 1845 court trial of the murderers of Joseph Smith. We had several different sources of minutes on the trial, some bearing their author’s name and others unsigned. The fullest set of minutes was unsigned, but because we had located them in the Church Historian’s Office, we were sure they were the minutes kept by George Watt, the Church’s official scribe who was sent to record the proceedings of the trial. We so stated in seven drafts of our manuscript and analyzed all of our sources on that assumption.

Finally, the book was completed, and within a few weeks the final manuscript would be sent to the publisher. As I sat in my office at BYU one Saturday afternoon, I felt impelled to go through the pile of unexamined books and pamphlets accumulated on the table behind my desk. At the very bottom of a pile of 50 or 60 publications, I found a printed catalog of the contents of the Wilford C. Wood Museum, which Professor LaMar Berrett, the author, had sent to me a year and a half earlier. As I quickly flipped through the pages of this catalog of Church history manuscripts, my eyes fell on a page describing the manuscript of the trial minutes we had attributed to George Watt. This catalog page told how Wilford Wood had purchased the original of that set of minutes in Illinois and had given the Church the typewritten version we had obtained from the Church Historian.

We immediately visited the Wilford Wood Museum in Woods Cross, Utah, and obtained additional information which enabled us to determine that the minutes we had thought were the official Church source had been prepared by one of the lawyers for the defense. With this knowledge we returned to the Church Historian’s Office and were able to locate for the first time George Watt’s official and highly authentic set of minutes on the trial. This discovery saved us from a grievous error in the identification of one of our major sources and also permitted us to enrich the contents of our book significantly. The impression I received that day in my office is a cherished example of the way the Lord will help us in our righteous professional pursuits when we qualify for the impressions of his Spirit.

Barbara Matovu remembers the first time the missionaries brought her to the center for an activity to meet other young single adults. She thought she knew what to expect.
“Throughout my life I’ve always had a group that I belonged to,” explains Barbara. “And the groups were always stamped with something—you were the sporty group or the international group or some other group. So when people started coming into the center, it was so strange because no one seemed to have the attitude of ‘I’m in the popular group, so I can’t talk to you.’
“At first, I thought, ‘Are they acting? Is this a show?’ But after a while I realized it actually doesn’t matter who we are or where we come from or which language we speak. The love of our Heavenly Father is for everyone. Usually it takes me a bit of time to find my group, but this time I felt like I didn’t need a group. I was just Barbara, and I could be Barbara for everybody.”

In the humid heat of a Thai morning, the newly ordained elder knelt on an old newspaper to protect his knees from the rough concrete floor of the hut. He was wearing a second-hand white shirt, an old tie, and sandals on his feet. Reverently, he broke bread and blessed it. Thach Khuong was not only grateful for the opportunity to participate in a sacrament service, but also for life itself. He had recently led his family through the dangers of war-ravaged Vietnam and Cambodia to the promise of freedom and safety in a United Nations refugee camp in Panat Nikom, Thailand.
When Brother Thach first arrived at the camp, he surprised Church welfare services missionary Elyce Jones by shaking her hand instead of giving her the traditional Cambodian bow of greeting. He told her that he was a member of the Church and that he held the Aaronic Priesthood. It was welcome news. Welfare services missionaries were assigned to teach refugees Western culture and English as a second language, but it was against United Nations’ policy for them to proselyte. However, with proper authority, refugee Church members were permitted to conduct Church affairs, including Sunday services.
At Brother Thach’s news, Sister Jones and other welfare services missionaries contacted Elder Marion D. Hanks of the First Quorum of the Seventy, then the Church executive administrator for Southeast Asia, and informed him that an Aaronic priesthood holder had arrived in the camp. Following a personal interview, Elder Hanks ordained Thach Khuong to the office of elder. “Brother Thach was our first priesthood holder in the camp,” says Sister Jones. “With his ordination, we were permitted to hold Sunday services.”
Brother Thach had joined the Church in 1971 while on a South Vietnamese air force training assignment in the United States. He made Latter-day Saint friends, attended Church meetings, accepted the missionary discussions, and was baptized. On his return to Vietnam some nine months later, his suitcase containing his copy of the scriptures was stolen. At the time, he was not aware of any Church organization in Vietnam, although a branch did exist in the capital city. But he did receive a twelve-month gift subscription to the Ensign, the English-language Church magazine. Reading and rereading the twelve copies of the magazine sustained him spiritually during the next ten years. When the government changed in Vietnam and “foreign” printed materials were viewed with suspicion by the authorities, he cherished his copies of the Ensign even more and hid them for safe-keeping.
When he left Vietnam and arrived in the refugee camp, he wrote to the Ensign and asked that his letter be forwarded to an old Latter-day Saint friend in the United States. The friend was traced. He began corresponding with Brother Thach and sponsored his immigration to the United States.
Thach Khuong is only one of thousands of Vietnamese, Cambodian, and Laotian refugees who attempt to escape Indochina in order to live a better life. Many fail. Many die.
Many pay large amounts of money to be transported in small, overcrowded boats that often are in disrepair, hoping that some friendly vessel will come to their rescue before ocean storms, pirates, starvation, or dehydration overcome them.
Others, like Brother Thach, risk capture and death by traveling from Vietnam in the south, northward through Cambodia to neutral Thailand. With Brother Thach was his wife, Minhdan, three-year-old daughter, Minhvan, and a nephew, eight-year-old Khaivien. Brother Thach says, “Khaivien’s father was unable to pay the price to get his wife and six children out of Vietnam. He asked me to take the boy. Even though it meant giving up their oldest son, he and his wife felt that at least one of their children should have a chance at freedom.”
The journey through Cambodia was arranged with the help of a “guide” who charged Brother Thach one and one half taels of gold, approximately equivalent to his entire earnings for eighteen months. Brother Thach worked hard to save the money, accumulating the funds secretly so as not to arouse the suspicions of the authorities. Finally prepared, after selling the family’s meager possessions to relatives and friends, the group left on a moonless night in March, 1981, praying that they would be successful in their venture.
Brother Thach knows that their prayers were answered. Although they were Vietnamese citizens, he and his wife shared a Cambodian heritage and assumed the identity of Cambodians for their journey. “We were not always successful,” he recalls. “For instance, my wife dressed like a Cambodian woman, but one day we were questioned by someone who wondered why her sarong looked Vietnamese and not Cambodian. Even though the two countries have the same cultural background there is a difference in the style of sarong and in the way that it is worn. We gave some excuse or other, and we were allowed to go on our way.”
They were stopped several times by soldiers, but each time a small miracle occurred and they were free to continue. “One time,” says Brother Thach, “we were stopped at a checkpoint where there were two soldiers on guard; one of them Cambodian and the other Vietnamese. For some reason the Vietnamese soldier turned away and didn’t talk to us. The Cambodian soldier asked to see our identification papers. I decided to tell him the truth—where we were from and where we were going. He let us go. I’m sure we would have been detained had the Vietnamese soldier challenged us.”
The family also escaped other potential dangers—being attacked by robbers or getting caught in military skirmishes—as they made their way by overloaded and ancient buses, bicycles, ox-drawn cart, and railroad train to Batdambang south of the Thai-Cambodian border.
The train carrying them had to make frequent stops while repairs were made to railroad tracks damaged by land mines. Brother Thach explains, “To clear the tracks, the train crew would unhook the locomotive from the passenger cars and use it to push ahead a weighted freight car to set off any unexploded mines. Then they would repair the track. This took so long to do each time that all of us on the train were afraid we would be stranded without food.”
Brother Thach says that at one repair stop, “I left the train and prayed that the Lord would help me find food for my family. They had not had anything substantial to eat for some time. After walking for about two kilometers I came to a village. I went to a house at the edge of the village and asked a lady if I could buy some food from her. She cooked a pan of rice, packed it in a banana leaf, added a pinch of salt, and gave it to me.” He paid her and took the rice back to his wife and the two hungry children, not forgetting to thank the Lord.
The family finally arrived at the refugee camp in Batdambang, but because it was located in Cambodia, Brother Thach requested that they be transferred to safer refuge at Panat Nikom, Thailand, where they arrived in May, two months after leaving Vietnam. From Thailand, they relocated to the United States where Minhdan Thach was baptized. She now serves as a Relief Society counselor in the Taylorsville 40th (Vietnamese) Branch, Taylorsville Utah Central Stake. Brother Thach, second counselor in the branch elders quorum presidency, is now an electronic test technician with a national engineering and research company with a manufacturing plant and offices in Utah.

While I was serving as the Presiding Bishop, a good sister brought her son to my office to be interviewed for his mission. At that time she had a son in the mission field in Europe and a daughter in another mission field. She looked rather poorly clad, and I said: “Why don’t you wait until your other son comes home before sending this boy?” Her answer was: “Bishop, if you will see that my son gets a call, I will see that he gets the money to keep him in the mission field.”

While I was a bishop in California, I used to admire a good mother who worked in a bakery shop in her clean, white uniform year after year while she kept three of her sons in the mission field. One of them later became president of a mission, and the other two are active in the Church.

We have many wonderful members in the Church who are contributing toward the support of missionaries in the field when they do not have sons and daughters of their own to send. Many have also contributed to the missionary fund at Church headquarters to help young people in foreign countries who are not financially able so that they can fill missions, as well as our boys and girls here in the United States.

I have a number of friends who I know are doing that consistently. One good sister, a widow, has kept many missionaries in the field. I have a relative who aims to keep ten in the mission field all the time, but he daren’t tell his wife about it. I have always felt badly, because she should be able to share that great joy with him.

I talked along this line some time ago in a conference. Following the conference, I received a letter from a schoolteacher enclosing sufficient money for a month’s keep for a missionary and indicating that she would send a like amount each month for two years to keep a missionary in the field.

I was thrilled recently in interviewing a young man for his mission in California to learn that his parents are both Catholics, and yet they were putting up the money for their son’s mission.

In 1971 I wrote an article on missionary work and received a letter from a fourteen-year-old girl from Los Angeles in which she said: “Brother Richards, I want to go on a mission.” I wrote and told her she couldn’t expect to go on a full-time mission at the age of fourteen but that there was plenty of missionary work she could do right at home, that there were so many nonmembers there that if she would invite one of her nonmember friends and his parents to go to Church with her, they could there meet the missionaries and then be taught the gospel.

A few weeks later I received a letter from this girl’s mother, who is president of the Aaronic Priesthood YWMIA in her ward, thanking me for the letter I wrote to her daughter and saying that the daughter had followed my advice. She got one of the families to go to church with her, and they had later set their baptismal date.

Experiences such as this can be related all over the world, for this is God’s restored truth to the earth, never to be thrown down nor given to another people but to prepare the way for the second coming of Jesus when he will reign upon the earth for a thousand years, as the scriptures declare.