Gospel Story Finder

Preston loved maps. He had a placemat with a world map that he studied every morning at breakfast. He drew pretend maps of islands with pirate treasure and real maps of his neighborhood. Even the pattern on his bedspread had maps on it.
So when Preston’s Primary teacher, Brother Greene, started drawing a map on the board during Primary class, Preston paid close attention.
“Today we’re going to talk about where the Book of Mormon came from,” Brother Greene said. “Everyone open your Bible and find the maps.”
“I didn’t know the Bible had maps,” Michael said.
“I know where the maps are,” Preston said.
Brother Greene smiled. “Let’s find the map that has Jerusalem on it.” Brother Greene pointed to a dot on the map he’d drawn on the board. “Here’s Jerusalem. Everybody put your finger on Jerusalem on your map.”
Preston listened while Brother Greene explained how a prophet named Lehi had to leave Jerusalem with his family. As he told the story, Brother Greene drew lines on the board that showed how Lehi’s family traveled all the way to America.
Preston studied the map Brother Greene had drawn. He was fascinated. He’d heard the story of Lehi’s family many times, but no one had ever told him the story with a map before.
On the way home, Preston told his parents all about Brother Greene’s Primary lesson. “And did you know that Lehi lived 600 years before Jesus was born?”
“You’re absolutely right,” Dad said. “You were really listening today.”
“When I get home, I’m going to draw a map just like Brother Greene’s,” Preston said.
Preston worked on his map most of the afternoon. He used his best colored pencils. When it was finished, he showed it to Dad.
“This is a fine map,” Dad said.
“Can we use it for family home evening tomorrow?” Preston asked.
“Hmm,” Dad said. “I’ve invited a friend from work over for dinner, and I asked him to stay for family home evening.”
“Aw, Dad,” Preston said. “I like it when it’s just our family. Just you and Mom and me.” Preston was often shy around people he didn’t know.
Dad put his arm around Preston’s shoulder. “I know, but this is important. We want to let other people see how we live the gospel. Mom has a special lesson planned, so maybe we’ll save the map for another time.”
Preston agreed.
Dinner on Monday night was not much fun. Dad’s friend, Mr. Shay, was nice, but the grown-ups did most of the talking. Finally it was time to go into the family room to have family home evening. Dad spent a couple of minutes explaining to Mr. Shay what family home evening was all about.
“Before we start our lesson,” Dad said, “are there any questions you’d like to ask?”
“I have one very big question about your church,” Mr. Shay said. “I want to know about the Book of Mormon. Where did it come from? What is it about?”
“I know!” Preston said. “I know where the Book of Mormon came from!” Preston ran to his room and came right back with his map. He showed it to Mr. Shay. Preston put his finger on Jerusalem and told the story of Lehi’s family just like Brother Greene had told it in Primary.
Mr. Shay looked at the map. He looked at Preston. Then he looked at Preston’s dad. “Is that right?” Mr. Shay asked.
Dad smiled and nodded. “I couldn’t have explained it any better myself.”
Mr. Shay looked at the map again. “Did you draw this map yourself?” he asked Preston.
Preston could only nod. He could hardly believe he had told that long story to Mr. Shay. Now that it was finished, Preston felt shy again. The funny thing was, when he was telling the story, he hadn’t felt a bit shy.
“How old are you?” Mr. Shay asked.
“I’ll be seven next month,” Preston answered.
Mr. Shay leaned back in his chair and smiled. “I used to wonder how all those young men can be missionaries for your church when they are only 19 years old. But now I think I understand. If Preston already knows this much about the Book of Mormon, he will be an excellent missionary.”
Preston felt happy and warm inside. He wondered if that’s how missionaries feel when they teach the gospel.
“I think Preston has given us an excellent lesson tonight,” Mom said. “All we need now is a song and a prayer.”
“Don’t forget dessert!” Preston said.

Then, two hundred years ago, in the early part of the year 1820, Father in Heaven chose a prophet through whom the original gospel, Church and priesthood authority would be restored. That prophet’s name was Joseph Smith. As a young man, Joseph was confused by the differences taught among the many churches in his area and wanted to know which of them was right. Knowing he lacked wisdom, he followed counsel found in the Bible, “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.”3

When Joseph prayed to know the truth, Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appeared to him. Jesus told Joseph not to join any of the churches, for “they draw near to me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me, they teach for doctrines the commandments of men, having a form of godliness, but they deny the power thereof.”4 This miraculous experience began a period in which all of God’s truths, ordinances and blessings would be made available to members of Christ’s church on both sides of the veil.

Angels brought divine authority by which the Prophet Joseph restored the Church of Jesus Christ, complete with its original pattern, keys and priesthood offices. As directed by inspiration, he translated the Book of Mormon. Additional revelations were later published in the Doctrine and Covenants and the Pearl of Great Price to the enrichment of all who receive them. Other prophets and inspired directions followed until President Russell M. Nelson became the prophet of our day.

Kim and Neil Davis were getting nervous.
You see, they come from a family that believes in setting goals and then doing everything they can to achieve those goals. When they, their parents, and their four brothers and sisters set a goal as a family, there’s almost no stopping them.
That’s why they were getting anxious now. Time was growing short. They had set a goal to introduce a new family to the gospel every six months, and here it was, the last week of that time period, and they had not found even one interested family.
They had fulfilled this goal many times in the past. When the Davises had lived in Boston, Massachusetts, and Washington, D.C., where few Latter-day Saints live, they could introduce lots of families to the gospel. “Not only would we have them come to our home for the missionary discussions,” says Kim, 14, the oldest daughter, “but we would invite them to family home evenings, special Christmas programs, and other activities.”
But now the family was living in Utah, and it wasn’t as easy finding non-Latter-day Saint families to share the gospel with. The end of their six-month time period was getting closer, and they hadn’t found anyone. The Davises knew theirs was a righteous desire, so they had family prayers and fasted. The six children each asked for help in their individual prayers.
And then, on the last day of the sixth month, their prayers were answered.
“My dad is used to receiving foreign mail from doctors asking for copies of articles,” explains Kim. Her father, Dr. Kim Davis, has had reports of his medical research published in a number of medical journals. “So when he received the letter from Hungary, he didn’t think there would be anything unusual about it, until he opened the envelope and read what was inside.”
“We were so excited!” says Neil, age 12. The letter was from a family in Hungary—the Keresztis. They had seen a television documentary about Utah on Hungarian national television, and it had mentioned the Church and some of its beliefs. What had impressed the Keresztis most was the idea that families could be together forever; They wanted to know more about a church which taught such a belief, so the father, a doctor, and the son, a medical student, searched through old medical journals looking for an address in Utah. The one they happened to find was Dr. Davis’s. The Hungarian family asked if their letter to Dr. Davis could be sent to someone who would send them information about the Church.
Of course, there was no need for the Davis family to forward the Keresztis’ request. They immediately gathered all the Church information in Hungarian they could find, and shipped it to their new-found friends.
Then they wrote their testimonies of the gospel. They put those in an envelope, along with pictures of their family, and sent them to the Keresztis as well.
The Keresztis were amazed when they received a big box so soon from the United States and eagerly began reading the material. They were even more amazed when they received the letter and found that such a large family could be so close and have such strong testimonies of the gospel. Though the Keresztis had only one child, they felt just as strong about family unity and were excited to find something to help them.
Soon the Davises and the Keresztis were exchanging letters and pictures frequently. “We grew very close,” says Kim. “When we got a letter from them, our whole family would pass it around, and we would read it at family home evening. We were so excited to see how they were accepting the gospel in Hungary, and we couldn’t believe it was happening to us.”
In the meantime, the Davises contacted the mission president in Vienna, Austria. Through him, the Keresztis were able to have missionary discussions about once a month.
“When we got the letter saying they were going to be baptized in Vienna, Austria, it was really exciting,” says Neil. “And when we got pictures taken after their baptism, that was great!”

A striking feature of the effect of a deepened understanding of Christ’s love is how such comprehension dignifies and lifts the individual to action. Julia Mavimbela, a Church member in Soweto, South Africa, tells how her conversion brought her from bitterness at her life’s circumstances to faith and strength to help those around her and beyond her. She taught gardening to relieve hunger, and she organized women for peace to calm their strife-torn country.

“And when I went out for recess,” I’ll say, “a giant came over to me. He wanted me to help him. He told me he was too big for the slippery slide. He asked me to give him a push. So I did.”
“Really?” she’ll say.
“Well,” I’ll say, “it was really Freddie. But he looked like a giant to me for just a minute.”
“Oh,” she’ll say. “I’m glad it wasn’t a real giant.”

It was another dreary, lifeless, and boring day. For the last little while, everything had been the same, and though I tried to be happy, I was growing bored and restless. It was the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic and my country was in lockdown, so we were all encouraged to stay home until further notice.
Every day when I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw an emptiness there. It could have been because I couldn’t see my friends or because I wasn’t able to work or support my family at the time. I had just graduated from college and wanted to become a teacher, but I needed to pass an examination that had been postponed because of the pandemic.
I felt unhappy, like something was missing in my heart, but I couldn’t completely figure out what it was or even how I could find it.
One night, my cousin was browsing through a book. It was dark blue and entitled “Ang Aklat ni Mormon.” She had recently gone with her friend to something called “family home evening” and had been talking to missionaries on the phone a few nights a week ever since. On this particular night, she was talking on the phone while skimming the book when suddenly she asked me if I could help her answer a question from one of the missionaries.
“Seriously?” I thought. “You’re the one being asked, so why do I have to help?”
But I gave in and asked her what the question was. And she said, “Ano daw layunin mo sa buhay?” (“What do you think is your purpose in life?”)
My heart started beating so fast when I heard the question.
“This is it! This is what I’ve been looking for. This is what’s been missing in my heart,” I thought.
I stared at my cousin, smiling, and borrowed the phone to answer the missionary’s question. I told him that I believed that the purpose of life is to be happy, to enjoy life, and to serve others and be kind to them. And he agreed!
He and his companion also asked if they could teach my cousin and me more about the gospel, and we said yes. My family was taught by missionaries when I was young. My mother is a member but had been less active for most of my life, but after the conversation on the phone, I wanted to learn more.
Every time the missionaries shared something about the gospel, I felt joy in my heart, particularly in learning about the plan of salvation and the promises of Heavenly Father and the Savior. Eventually we went to church, and the members welcomed us with their warm hearts and helping hands.
I could feel in my heart that I was taking the right path. And after a few months, I was baptized by a close friend who had helped me move forward in the gospel.
Making a lot of changes in my life after joining the Church was hard. And my life is far from being easy or happy all the time. But as I have had new opportunities to serve and deepen my testimony, I have come to know with certainty that everlasting joy is indeed found in this gospel.
I feel joy in my heart whenever I read the scriptures, hear divine inspiration from our prophets and apostles, and witness the testimonies of the members around me. I’ve found my answer to the question those missionaries asked over the phone: the purpose of life is to be a better person for God, for myself, and for my family, all while striving to return to Him. And this knowledge has brought me the exact happiness I’ve been looking for. Continuing to serve people and take my family to church is now my top priority, because I want them to experience true joy.
President Russell M. Nelson taught, “When the focus of our lives is on God’s plan of salvation … and Jesus Christ and His gospel, we can feel joy regardless of what is happening—or not happening—in our lives.”1
I too testify that true happiness can be found only in following Jesus Christ. Every opportunity I have had in the gospel of Jesus Christ has filled my soul with joy, especially as I have allowed these experiences to help me grow closer to Him.
Before the COVID-19 pandemic, I had been happy with my life. But the true joy the gospel brings is different from happiness. Even in the pandemic, the gospel brings me peace and shows me the purpose of life, which helps me keep moving forward with faith and hope.
I finally found my missing piece. I needed the joy that following Jesus Christ brings to my heart and my life, as we all do.

Josh Edwards, a priest who grew up in Dhahran, Saudi Arabia, proved that eagles fly all over the world. He earned his Eagle Scout award by heading up a tree-classification project in the American Consulate General Park in Saudi Arabia.

On that occasion thousands of curious but earnest people stood in long lines to gain entry to the building. A policeman stationed to direct traffic observed that it was the first time he had ever seen the English eager to get into a church.
Those who inspected the building were asked to defer any questions until they had completed the tour. In the evenings I joined the missionaries in talking with those who had questions. As a young couple came down the front steps of the temple, I inquired whether I could help them in any way. The young woman spoke up and said, “Yes. What about this ‘marriage for eternity’ to which reference was made in one of the rooms?” We sat on a bench under the ancient oak that stood near the gate. The wedding band on her finger indicated that they were married, and the manner in which she gripped her husband’s hand evidenced their affection one for another.
“Now to your question,” I said. “I suppose you were married by the vicar.”
“Yes,” she responded, “just three months ago.”
“Did you realize that when the vicar pronounced your marriage he also decreed your separation?”
“What do you mean?” she quickly retorted.
“You believe that life is eternal, don’t you?”
“Of course,” she replied.
I continued, “Can you conceive of eternal life without eternal love? Can either of you envision eternal happiness without the companionship of one another?”
“Of course not,” came the ready response.
“But what did the vicar say when he pronounced your marriage? If I remember the language correctly, he said, among other things, ‘in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, till death do ye part.’ He went as far as he felt his authority would permit him and that was till death separates you. In fact, I think that if you were to question him, he would emphatically deny the existence of marriage and family beyond the grave.
“But,” I continued, “the Father of us all, who loves His children and wants the best for them, has provided for a continuation, under proper circumstances, of this most sacred and ennobling of all human relationships, the relationships of marriage and family.
“In that great and moving conversation between the Savior and His Apostles, Peter declared, ‘Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God,’ and the Lord responded, ‘Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-jona: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven.’ The Lord then went on to say to Peter and his associates, ‘And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven’ (see Matt. 16:13–19).
“In that marvelous bestowal of authority, the Lord gave to His Apostles the keys of the holy priesthood, whose power reaches beyond life and death into eternity. This same authority has been restored to the earth by those same Apostles who held it anciently, even Peter, James, and John.” I continued by saying that following the dedication of the temple on the following Sunday, those same keys of the holy priesthood would be exercised in behalf of the men and women who come into this sacred house to solemnize their marriage. They will be joined in a union which death cannot dissolve and time cannot destroy.
Such was my testimony to this young couple in England.

The next morning we ate breakfast in fog and wind. As we started to take tents down, rain descended. Standing in the wind, shivering and wet, we were eager to be on the move.
“I wonder how bad the pass is? We have a mile to go before we’re over. Let’s hit it!”
The mile took over three hours of hard climbing over rocks and across snowfields. The wind became a cold river of air pushing rain up the pass. The uncompromising trail went straight up into a world of swirling gray clouds and immobile black granite. It was impossible to stay warm during rest stops and impossible to climb steadily without resting.
Colleen pushed herself so hard she finally collapsed just before the summit. Sweating had caused her to become chilled from the wind. Brother Otte carried her pack, and, dressed in down clothing for warmth, she went on.

I love hiking in the mountains near my home. Often, I get a little rock in my shoe as I walk along the trail. Eventually, I stop and shake out my shoe. But it astounds me how long I allow myself to hike in pain before I stop and rid myself of the irritant.

When I was filling out my tithing slip, I noticed the words “Perpetual education.” I asked my mom what that meant. She said that you could donate money to help people in different countries get a good education. I decided to donate some money to help them. I am glad I can serve people in need!

I recently had the honour of volunteering with the Holiday Hunger East Lancashire team over October half-term holidays. The main aim was to ensure that no child went hungry during the holidays. We ended up providing 3,000 meals a day. Surprising as that was, it wasn’t the only thing that amazed me.
At the beginning of the half-term week, I posted on a local Facebook page to ask for volunteer drivers to deliver food. Following my post, a lovely lady sent me a private message to say she couldn’t physically help, as she is disabled, but if there was anything she could do, she was ready to help.
I thanked her for her willingness and suggested that she could handwrite address labels for the food bags, so people would know where to deliver each meal. She agreed and I contacted Nicola, one of the organisers to arrange to drop off the labels.
The following day, Nicola sent her partner, David a high school teacher, to deliver the labels— it was at that point that he realised that we hadn’t explained to that lady, that we needed to have the labels written that same day.
David, reached out to assist the lady, and it just so happened that this kind-hearted woman who volunteered to help us, had been one of David’s pupils over 10 years ago. As they sat together and handwrote address labels, they talked of how her life had been since they had last seen each other.
Once a very healthy young woman, she got older and developed a curve in her spine. After seeking medical help and undergoing a life-changing surgery that unfortunately went wrong, she was left without feeling in one of her legs. She is now in a wheelchair.
David discovered that she had been waiting for the council to provide a ramp for her home for over 12 months. The lack of a ramp meant she had to carry her wheelchair down her two front steps daily, with only one functioning leg.
A master at woodwork, David immediately offered his services and has already started building her a ramp (with a permanent metal one on order).
Were it not for the many kind volunteers of Holiday Hunger East Lancashire, people united doing good and feeding children during half-term, this woman and David would have never crossed paths that day. It is a miracle without a doubt.

When I was real little, my family and I lived in Aleppo, Syria. I had trouble sleeping. I took my dolls and played with them on my bed. A couple of times, I took my markers and colored my sister’s face. I got in a lot of trouble for that. One night my dad came in my bedroom and brought some consecrated oil. He gave me a blessing, and since then—as far as I can remember—I haven’t had any trouble sleeping.
Ashley Miller, age 10Yona, Guam

Devoting our Sabbaths to the Lord and His purposes is itself an act of worship. Some years ago, then-Elder Russell M. Nelson observed: “How do we hallow the Sabbath day? In my much younger years, I studied the work of others who had compiled lists of things to do and things not to do on the Sabbath. It wasn’t until later that I learned from the scriptures that my conduct and my attitude on the Sabbath constituted a sign between me and my Heavenly Father [see Exodus 31:13; Ezekiel 20:12, 20]. With that understanding, I no longer needed lists of dos and don’ts. When I had to make a decision whether or not an activity was appropriate for the Sabbath, I simply asked myself, ‘What sign do I want to give to God?’”

Another reported that her neighbor’s house had torn loose from the foundation and was now resting against her home. “I asked her to visit me, but she didn’t need to bring her house with her.”

Norwich England Stake members also donated beds, mattresses, pillows, appliances, clothing and toys towards Ukrainian families and orphaned children. One stake organised a Christmas party especially for Ukrainian families and children, and over 50 Ukrainian mothers attended. Another ward invited those attending the Ukrainian Saturday school to join their ward Christmas party, where over 80 Ukrainians joined in!

It was a lazy day in August. The sun was hot, and Tommy and Elija were lying on the ground near the creek, enjoying the shade of a big cottonwood tree. They had been assigned to watch the thirty head of cattle, which were grazing a half mile upstream.
“Herding cattle might be important,” said Tommy, “but it isn’t very exciting.”
Just then the cattle started to low. The boys heard them moving around as if they were frightened. “Something is bothering them,” said Elija. “Let’s see what it is.”
In a moment the two boys were running toward the cattle, but they stopped short when they saw a small band of Indians coming toward them. They had no way of knowing whether or not they were friendly. But Tommy knew that the Omaha Indians had given the Mormon pioneers permission to camp on their land for the winter and to use their water and their timber.
When the boys came within talking distance, a young Indian stepped forward and spoke to them in halting English. “Last night our enemies, the Iowas, attacked our camp. All of our men except Chief Big Head and I were on a hunting trip. The Iowas took our horses and all of our food. They wounded many women and children. Chief Big Head they left for dead. He will die if he does not get help.”
Tommy looked down on the willow bed that the Indians had made for their chief. What he saw made him want to close his eyes.
“I’ll go for help,” he said.
“I’ll go with you,” said Elija.
The young Indian put his arm across Elija’s chest to keep him from going. “You stay here till boy gets back.”
Tommy knew that Elija’s safety depended on his speedy return, so he ran almost all of the two miles to Winter Quarters.
He went at once to the home of his bishop and told him what had happened. “The Indians really need help,” he concluded, “and they’re keeping Elija with them to make sure I bring some back.”
Bishop Morley listened quietly; then he put his arm around the boy to comfort him while he thought about what to do. “We must find Brigham Young,” he decided. “He might be down at the ferry. You take my horse and ride down there as fast as you can. In the meantime I will look around here.”
The ferry was twelve miles away, and it took Tommy an hour to get there. When he arrived, he found Brigham Young and told him his story.
“We will help the Indians, of course,” Brigham Young said, “but our first concern is for Elija. You must get back to him as soon as possible. Take your wagon and ask Bishop Morley to take his. These two wagons should be enough to bring the badly wounded to Winter Quarters. I’ll meet you at my house.”
Bishop Morley was waiting for Tommy. They took the two wagons and went to get Elija and the Indians.
When they came to the small sad camp, Elija ran up and began talking to Tommy. “At first they were afraid I would run away,” said Elija, “but when I took off my shirt and wet it in the creek so I could cool the forehead of Chief Big Head, they knew I could be trusted.”
“I’m so glad you are all right,” Tommy said.
Bishop Morley and the young Indian helped Chief Big Head into Tommy’s wagon, and the boys started back to Winter Quarters. The other Indians who were badly wounded were put into the Morley wagon. The rest of the Indians walked beside it.
The sun was almost setting when the wagons arrived at the home of Brigham Young. He soon determined that the Indian chief would need special care. He turned to Tommy and said, “Please go and ask your mother if she could take Chief Big Head into her home and nurse him back to health.”
Tommy was off in a flash. He returned in a few minutes with his mother, who said, “Of course, I’ll take care of him.”
Brigham Young smiled and said, “You won’t be sorry. An Indian never forgets a kindness.”
The weeks that followed were anxious ones for Tommy and his mother. Chief Big Head was very sick and needed constant care. Either Tommy or his mother stayed day and night by his side. Then one day, without any warning, the Indian got out of bed. “Chief Big Head well,” he declared. “I must go to my people.”
That night he left Winter Quarters and took with him all of the Indians who had been staying there.

A few years ago while I was presiding over the mission in Minneapolis, Minnesota, an interesting event took place. I would like to use that experience to bear my testimony. A rather severe tornado hit the area. It was severe enough that it came to the attention of the nightly news broadcast over the national networks to California, Arizona, Utah, and Idaho. Before long, the telephone started ringing in our office there at the mission home. This went on for two or three hours, with parents calling from many areas wondering about their Johnny or Richard.
I recall later walking across the parking lot from the mission office to the mission home saying to myself, “You know these Mormon mothers. They just won’t undo the apron strings. They just won’t let their boys go.” As I walked into the mission home, the phone again was ringing. I picked up the phone and guess who? My mother! She was wondering how her missionary was doing under these circumstances.
I learned a great and deep lesson. A mother’s love and concern never ceases—nor should it.

I enjoyed making a scene of Enos praying all day and night (March 2020). It is amazing that he prayed so long. I couldn’t do that! We had fun using it for our Come, Follow Me scripture study and home church with my family.
Annie M., age 8, Virginia, USA

Almost three decades have passed, but the day I met Atiati is still vivid in my memory. As a young missionary serving in Samoa, I had already learned much, but nothing had prepared me for Atiati.

My companion, Elder Matagi, and I had visited the village of Sasina many times but had enjoyed little success. As we entered the village this particular day, we saw no adults, only children. The children told us that most of the villagers had gone to the next village for a wedding. Atiati was the only adult around, we were told.

We had never heard of this man before, so we asked the children where Atiati lived. They gave us directions and then followed in a curious little group as we walked there.

Located on the outskirts of the village, Atiati’s fale (house) looked forbidding as we approached. It was a sunny day, but all the polas (shades) were drawn. When we asked the children why, they started to giggle. “Go in and find out for yourself,” they replied.

As we walked up to the fale, I called out. I heard a noise as though someone were in pain. One of the older boys darted forward, pulled aside a pola, and shouted, “Atiati, the Mormons want to see you.” The children then ran off quickly.

Reluctantly, Elder Matagi and I entered the fale. When my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, I noticed a bed in one corner of the fale. On the bed lay an unshaven, unkempt, distorted figure. I felt so uneasy that I would have bolted out of the house except that Elder Matagi was holding tightly onto my arm. When we calmed down, we noticed that the figure, a man, was trying to speak. I moved closer, and he asked if we would raise the polas so he could see us in the light.

As light streamed into the fale, we could see that Atiati was crippled from the neck down, his limbs misshapen. At his invitation, we sat down and introduced ourselves. He asked us questions about the Church and our beliefs, and we taught him the first discussion. We ended with our testimonies and then prepared to leave.

I was touched when Atiati asked if we would pray with him before we left. What a pleasure to have someone ask us to pray! Humbled, Elder Matagi and I knelt and prayed. As we left, we promised Atiati that we would visit him again soon.

Heading home that evening, my companion and I discussed our new friend’s condition. Atiati had contracted polio 22 years earlier, and the disease had left him without the use of his arms and legs. The only part of his body he could move was his neck, and even that movement was limited. What if he were converted? Could he be baptized, being so completely disabled? We knew very little about assisting a man with disabilities, and we felt awkward. Finally we agreed that to avoid any embarrassment for Atiati, we would not visit him as missionaries; we would visit him only as friends.

The next day we set out again for Sasina. We had several people we wanted to see. However, when we arrived in the village, everyone seemed too busy to listen to us. After several hours of fruitless tracting, we decided to see Atiati before heading home.

Upon entering Atiati’s fale, I sensed a change immediately. Atiati was still lying in the same position in which he must have lain for the past 22 years, but there was something different. The Atiati with whom we had spoken the day before had no will to live. He had spoken in a whisper and had been unkempt in his appearance. The man now lying in the bed had a smile on his face. In a clear voice, he invited us in and asked us to sit next to his bed. He was clean-shaven, and his clothes were fresh.

Seeing our confused expressions, Atiati told us that he had paid someone to shave and bathe him. He had even had his bedding changed. “Today,” he said, “I begin to live again, because yesterday my prayers were answered and you came to me.”

Looking directly into my eyes, he continued. “I have waited for more than 20 years for someone to come and tell me that they have the true gospel of Christ. I want you to know that for over 20 years, I have done nothing but lie here and read the Bible. If what you tell me is really the true gospel of Christ, I will know and recognize it.”

Teaching Atiati was an experience I will never forget. He could quote many parts of the Bible almost word for word. His questions were sincere, and he understood concepts quickly. We talked about principles of the gospel in detail, including the priesthood. Atiati knew nothing of this power because the Samoan version of the Bible did not mention it. We showed him several references in the King James Version of the Bible that included the word priesthood, and then we pointed out to him that when the Bible was translated into Samoan there was no Samoan word for priesthood, so those who did the translation omitted the word and the meaning.

Soon, Atiati was converted. He wanted to be baptized. He wanted to receive the priesthood. Now it was up to us to baptize him.

A day was set, and the site for the baptism was selected. Atiati asked us to fast with him that he would have strength to endure the physical ordeal of the baptism. We asked the district leader and his companion to assist us. Some of the villagers were scornful of a church they did not yet understand, and some even ridiculed Atiati because of his disabilities. For these reasons, very few people in his village were told of the baptism; we did not want to attract a scoffing crowd.

The baptism was scheduled to take place at the chapel in Fagamalo, a village about eight miles distant. The baptismal font, located in front of the chapel in the middle of the churchyard, was open to the view of passersby. Anyone wishing to observe could do so from the road.

The day arrived. To avoid attracting a crowd, we left early to pick up Atiati. However, by the time we arrived, Atiati’s house was surrounded by people.

At first, I thought something terrible had happened to Atiati during the night. But when we got out of the car, someone cried, “Atiati, the Mormons are going to drown you.” Laughter filled the air. The villagers had somehow learned of Atiati’s baptism and had come to mock and ridicule him.

The laughter continued as we carried Atiati to the waiting car. We were discouraged, but Atiati’s faith didn’t falter. As we drove to Fagamalo, we all wanted to forget the incident in Sasina, and conversation was light. Upon our arrival, however, we were horrified to see the road packed with mocking people.

As we carried Atiati past the insulting crowd and into the chapel for the service, I fought feelings of anger and frustration. Our district leader, sensing our mood and the mood of those milling outside to view the spectacle, shared a stirring and spiritual testimony of the importance of baptism. When he finished, we picked up Atiati and carried him out to the font. When we emerged from the chapel, the taunting began again.

“Atiati, you foolish old man, don’t you know that the Mormons are going to drown you?”

“Hey, Atiati, can you swim?”

“Go ahead, Mormons, sprinkle him since he can’t be immersed!”

We all felt the forces of evil surround us as we prepared for this, one of the most sacred of all gospel ordinances. Atiati had asked me to baptize him. I entered the water and turned to assist the elders in carrying Atiati into the water. As I reached up toward him, he looked at us and said, “Please, put me down.”

My heart sank. I feared that Atiati, steadfast and unwavering throughout all the weeks of our sharing the gospel with him, was now giving up. We hesitated, and again he requested that we put him down.

The crowd was aware that something was happening, and their taunts and laughter increased. Our faith in Atiati wavered.

Atiati, guessing the reason for our hesitation, smiled and said, “This is the most important event in my life. I know without a doubt in my mind that this is the only way to eternal salvation. I will not be carried to my salvation! I will have faith in the Lord and his help.”

We lowered Atiati to the ground. Those who came to mock felt rewarded. To them, it appeared that Atiati was refusing baptism and that the Mormons had failed.

Atiati asked us to raise his hands so he could take hold of the railings. Exerting mighty effort, he attempted to pull himself up. The laughter faltered and began to die down. With his body shaking and perspiration breaking out on his forehead, Atiati stood. We all ached to reach out and assist him, but no one dared move. We were witnessing a miracle. A man who had lain in bed, twisted at every joint, unable to walk or even raise his arms, was now standing.

The crowd stood silent and astounded. No one moved or spoke.

Slowly, one trembling step at a time, Atiati descended into the water. Overwhelmed by what was happening, I couldn’t even remember the words to the baptismal prayer. It took a few reassuring words from Atiati before I regained my composure and was able to perform the sacred ordinance. After I baptized him, Atiati asked to be carried from the font to the chapel, where we confirmed him a member of the Church and bestowed on him the gift of the Holy Ghost.

Atiati continued to be an inspiration. With the use of a cane, he quickly regained the ability to walk unassisted. The closest branch of the Church was three miles up a steep hill in the village of Aopo. Atiati left home at 4:00 A.M. each Sunday in order to arrive before the 10:00 A.M. meeting began.

On my final visit with Atiati, I asked him how he had known he would be able to walk on the morning of his baptism. He said, “Elder Peters, the Bible teaches us that faith can move mountains. Since faith can move a stubborn mountain, I had no doubt in my mind that it would mend these limbs of mine.”