Gospel Story Finder

More than 150 years ago, a 17-year-old was called by the Lord to introduce the restored gospel to the infant colony of South Australia, where his mother and stepfather were emigrating. William James Barratt of England was ordained by Elder George A. Smith of the Quorum of the Twelve in July 1840. He set sail soon afterward, and began his missionary work in Australia just ten years after the Church was organized.
Elder Barratt had no Missionary Training Center experience, no companion, and his mission president was half a world away in Liverpool, England. It took a whole year for him to get an answer to his letters to Church leaders. He did not even have a copy of the Book of Mormon.
“I feel like a lamb among wolves, going into a land of strangers to preach the gospel,” he wrote.
Yet with the vigor of youth, he came, he served, he testified. And he baptized Robert Beauchamp, who later became president of the Australasian Mission (Australia and New Zealand), and who in turn baptized at least 150 others.

I knew a wonderful gentleman not too many years ago who helps to illustrate this universal principle of cultural myopia. I first met him in Singapore when I was assigned to be his family’s home teacher. A distinguished professor of Sanskrit and Tamil, he hailed from the south of India. His wonderful wife and two sons were members of the Church, but he had never joined nor listened much to the teachings of the gospel. He was happy with the way his wife and sons were developing and supported them fully in their undertakings and Church responsibilities.

When I offered to teach him the principles of the gospel and share our beliefs with him, he initially balked. It took me a while to figure out why: he felt that by so doing, he would become a traitor to his past, his people, and his history! To his way of thinking, he would be denying everything he was, everything his family had taught him to be, his very Indian heritage. Over the next few months, we were able to talk about these issues. I was awed (though not surprised!) by how the gospel of Jesus Christ was able to open his eyes to a different viewpoint.

So what happened to my friend? Well, he was taught the lessons and joined the Church. His family has since been sealed for time and all eternity in the Sydney Australia Temple. He has given up little—and gained the potential for everything. He discovered that he can still celebrate his history, still be proud of his ancestry, his music and dance and literature, his food, his land and its people. He has found that there is no problem incorporating the best of his local culture into the greatest of all cultures. He discovered that bringing that which is consistent with truth and righteousness from his old life into his new one serves only to enhance his fellowship with the Saints and to assist in uniting all as one in the society of heaven.

In 2013, I was successively called to serve as ward employment specialist, government relations specialist in the stake public affairs office, and then director of public affairs for the Brazzaville Stake. It was a breathtaking year—and spiritually mind-boggling—as I began to wonder about my callings in the Church, especially since this experience was not taking into account that I had no one at all in my family to join me in my spiritual journey.
Indeed, I remained very single with five children to take care of; and up to then, none of them were interested in the new religion of their father. In fact, my beloved children were suspecting that their father—who they knew as Christian—at the twilight of his life had suddenly embraced a new religion, one which may have some malicious intentions.
But this scripture reproved me: “For if a man know not how to rule his own house, how shall he take care of the church of God?” (1 Timothy 3:5).
I realized that I needed to help my own family come to an understanding of my commitment to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. While constantly praying—in secret and publicly—to ask the Lord’s help on this matter, the Church extended to me a new calling as national public affairs director for the Republic of Congo. Our first French-speaking, Central Africa regional public affairs directors conference of the Church took place in February 2014 in Kinshasa DRC. I was sensitive about my marital status, but I was comforted when I saw that only one of the five directors gathered had a wedding ring on his finger—the others were single.
But this was a temporary consolation, as the General Authority Seventy presiding over the conference—as well as the area public affairs director—pointed out this issue of being single that prevailed among the gathered public affairs directors. We were exhorted to remain worthy and were encouraged to become married and receive temple ordinances with our spouses. The public affairs director had these concluding words, “The restored Church of Jesus Christ will continue to grow, with or without you; but if it is with you, it is for your good.” These were inspired and unforgettable words and boosted my desire to enter the holy temple and to experience the eternal reality of its sacred ordinances.
So over time, the Lord blessed me—and my desire to once again be joined in marriage was fulfilled. In December 2014, Parfaite Nkounkou and I were legally married at the city hall in Brazzaville. Six months later, we entered the Johannesburg Temple for the very first time, where we were sealed for time and for all eternity.

Because of physical health problems, when I was about a year into my mission, I had to go home for a little bit. But before I left, one of the other sisters told me, “Be home for Christmas. This is your home.”

I made that a goal. I knew the mission field was where God wanted me to be, and I really wanted to do what He asked, feel the joy I’d felt before, and spend my Christmas experiencing miracles as a missionary.

I returned to my original assignment in the first week of December. God helped me jump back into the work, and it was such a good Christmas season. It was service-oriented and Christ-centered, just how it’s supposed to be. Sometimes we get caught up in the material aspects of Christmas, but that’s not the point. The point is that Jesus Christ was born for us, lived for us, and died for us because He loves us.

I loved having Him be the center of my life during my mission because it helped me feel closer to Him, and I got to share that gift with other people too. We were teaching a woman who really wanted her family to come over for Christmas because she hadn’t seen them in a while. We cleaned up her house, set up her Christmas tree, and watched the Church video “The Christ Child” with her.

Later she told us, “I got to have Christmas because of you sisters. I wouldn’t have had my family over if you hadn’t helped me.” It really touched my heart. I was so grateful that God let me experience that.

In the future, I want to make my Christmases more about Christ and be more involved in Light the World. That’s how we can be more like Him: by serving more and being outward-focused.

Mary M., from Colorado, USA; served in the Arizona Mesa Mission

In October, a group of young adults, missionaries and stake leaders from Northampton Stake got together to help the Buckingham Canal Society. The society was one of the first organisations within the stake boundary to sign up on JustServe, so the stake was very keen to respond to their needs. The society was founded in 1992. They are currently restoring a canal that spans the Buckinghamshire and Northamptonshire border between Buckingham and Cosgrove.
Terry Cavender, executive officer at BCS, said, “Three of us at the Buckingham Canal Society were joined by around 20 of the Helping Hands team. After explaining the COVID safety briefing and the other aspects of site safety, the group got to work. I was joined by five of the volunteers to undertake some weird plumbing and generally wallowing in mud. Rob took ten in-waders to go pulling reeds in the canal bed. Amanda took a team of five and tackled several site tidy jobs moving rubbish and scrap. Suddenly it was lunchtime, and I was amazed, along with my colleagues, at the amount of work achieved by the teams.
“After the ‘pizza picnic’, the folk came back for more and we achieved a tremendous amount of task completion.
“Everyone seemed to enjoy the day despite an early finish due to high winds in the afternoon. We look forward to welcoming all the Helping Hands back again.”

Rick Weirich couldn’t see through the viewfinder of his video camera because of the tears in his eyes. But he kept the camera pointed at his two sons on the field. His sons were standing by the pole vault venue with their arms around each other, the younger one comforting his older brother. Moments before, they had been competing against each other in the pole vault at a regional track and field meet in Texas to decide who would go on to the state championships. The brothers had had big plans. They wanted to place first and second in regionals and go to state together. Chris had broken his pole on his first try, and, on his final try with his backup pole, he was eliminated when he didn’t clear the height.
Before younger brother Matt set up for his next attempt, he stopped. He had something more important to do. He needed to see if his brother was all right. He needed to say some reassuring words to Chris. For a moment these two brothers, who had been competitors, stood together, sharing the burden of disappointment.
The parents, Rick and Brenda, didn’t need videotape to record the scene. It was being recorded in their hearts. What they saw wasn’t failure but a huge success. Their sons cared more about each other than they did about winning.

“My desire from the first was to be able to help other people, to bless Heavenly Father’s children, to be prepared in case of an accident,” Céline says. Her Personal Progress program helped her refine that desire. “I set the goal to learn first aid before I turned 19,” she says. She met her goal and found she wanted to share what she was learning.

“I didn’t think of it as a talent until I got into it and saw that it comes quite naturally to me,” she continues. “Before, I had asked myself, ‘What can I do to help others?’ For me, first aid is a way of doing that.”

Not only does she help by being trained herself; she is also training others. She has taught first aid at Mutual activities, youth conferences, and girls’ camps. She also volunteers at a small Red Cross center in the basement of a local housing complex. There she teaches cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR), answers the phone, and attends to cuts and bruises of neighborhood children. They come to her as much for a hug as for a bandage.

I close with a parable.
Once a man received as his inheritance two keys. The first key, he was told, would open a vault which he must protect at all cost. The second key was to a safe within the vault which contained a priceless treasure. He was to open this safe and freely use the precious things which were stored therein. He was warned that many would seek to rob him of his inheritance. He was promised that if he used the treasure worthily, it would be replenished and never be diminished, not in all eternity. He would be tested. If he used it to benefit others, his own blessings and joy would increase.
The man went alone to the vault. His first key opened the door. He tried to unlock the treasure with the other key, but he could not, for there were two locks on the safe. His key alone would not open it. No matter how he tried, he could not open it. He was puzzled. He had been given the keys. He knew the treasure was rightfully his. He had obeyed instructions, but he could not open the safe.
In due time, there came a woman into the vault. She, too, held a key. It was noticeably different from the key he held. Her key fit the other lock. It humbled him to learn that he could not obtain his rightful inheritance without her.
They made a covenant that together they would open the treasure and, as instructed, he would watch over the vault and protect it; she would watch over the treasure. She was not concerned that, as guardian of the vault, he held two keys, for his full purpose was to see that she was safe as she watched over that which was most precious to them both. Together they opened the safe and partook of their inheritance. They rejoiced, for, as promised, it replenished itself.
With great joy they found that they could pass the treasure on to their children; each could receive a full measure, undiminished to the last generation.
Perhaps some few of their posterity would not find a companion who possessed the complementary key, or one worthy and willing to keep the covenants relating to the treasure. Nevertheless, if they kept the commandments, they would not be denied even the smallest blessing.
Because some tempted them to misuse their treasure, they were careful to teach their children about keys and covenants.
There came, in due time, among their posterity some few who were deceived or jealous or selfish because one was given two keys and another only one. “Why,” the selfish ones reasoned, “cannot the treasure be mine alone to use as I desire?”
Some tried to reshape the key they had been given to resemble the other key. Perhaps, they thought, it would then fit both locks. And so it was that the safe was closed to them. Their reshaped keys were useless, and their inheritance was lost.
Those who received the treasure with gratitude and obeyed the laws concerning it knew joy without bounds through time and all eternity.

While stressing the importance of listening well, I am mindful of those who cannot hear. Many labeled as deaf have received the Spirit “by the hearing of faith” (Gal. 3:2). The example of Rachel Ivins Grant is inspiring to me. She never complained about her own deafness. Though most women in their seventies would be completely worn out while rearing six growing children of another mother, she undertook that task. Rachel’s deafness seemed to save her from the wear and tear of noise. Sometimes, when two were arguing, Rachel would burst out laughing. She said they had no idea how funny it was to see their angry faces and hear none of their words.

Before her son, Heber J. Grant, became the seventh President of the Church, she declared, “Of course the greatest trial I have is that I cannot hear, but I have so many blessings I cannot complain, but if we only will live so that we may receive the instructions of God, there is nothing we are called to pass through but will be for our good.”

It seemed like the bell would never ring. Why does the day that Grandpa comes always seem like the longest day of the year? Alma wondered. And when will—
The clanging school bell interrupted Alma’s thoughts, and he bolted out the door.
“Alma Cutler, slow down!” Miss Young called after him.
Alma barely heard her. He just had to get home in a hurry today. Grandpa was coming all the way from Kanosh, Utah, to visit!
Alma tripped over a rock in the dirt road and went sprawling head over heels. His books and papers were scattered everywhere. He jumped up and crumpled the papers into a bunch, gathered his books, and continued running. “Why does everything have to slow me down the day Grandpa comes?” he muttered.
Alma didn’t even stop at the corral to see whether Papa’s white stallion was back. When he raced into the kitchen where Mama was baking bread, he couldn’t stop, and he crashed into the table, knocking flour everywhere.
“Alma Cutler! What on earth’s gotten into you?” Mama scolded, wiping her hands on her apron.
“I’m just excited to see Grandpa,” Alma replied. “Where is he?”
“He and your father haven’t come from the depot yet. Now get yourself out of my kitchen and do your chores.”
Alma hurried to the chicken coop to gather the eggs. He was proud that he didn’t break any, since everything else had gone wrong. Then when he went to get some feed, he leaned too hard on the grain barrel, and it fell over. Alma tried to scoop the feed up, but the chickens were scrabbling all over him and the spilled feed. He had a terrible time.
Once out of the coop, Alma ran back to the house and yelled, “Is Grandpa here yet?”
“Not yet,” Mama answered.
Alma sat down on an old tree stump outside the open kitchen window and picked some feathers off his pants. “How come Grandpa’s not on time?” he grumbled.
“Land sakes, child! Finish your chores and stop worrying about it. He’ll get here when he gets here.”
Alma got up and kicked at some weeds. He couldn’t understand why he was the only one who got excited when Grandpa came.
At the side of the house Alma picked up a bucketful of potato peelings and vegetable tops to feed to the hogs. When he got to the hogpen, Alma hefted the heavy bucket up onto the fence, but he wasn’t careful where he put his feet. Suddenly he slipped and fell against the fence, and some of the slop spilled on him. Alma was sure the hogs were laughing at him.
Alma put the bucket away and walked into the house. Before he could ask again about Grandpa, Mama groaned, “Alma, did you have to play with the hogs? Now get upstairs and clean yourself up before Grandpa comes.”
Alma went upstairs and took off his dirty clothes. The water in the washbasin was cold, and he shivered when he splashed it on his face. He was still scrubbing his face when he heard voices downstairs. “Grandpa’s here!” he shouted, letting the soapy water run into his eyes. “Ow!” he yelled, and he quickly rinsed the soap out of his eyes.
As soon as he had put on clean clothes, Alma ran downstairs to the kitchen. Just before he got there, he heard Mama say, “I’m telling you, Dad, I just don’t know what comes over that boy when he knows you’re coming. He complains all day long, wondering when you’ll get here, and he can’t do anything without it going wrong.”
Alma’s face flushed red, and he wanted to hide, but just then Grandpa came out of the kitchen. “There you are, Alma! How’s my favorite grandson?”
“I didn’t mean to complain, Grandpa,” Alma blurted out. “I just wanted you to get here faster.”
“You heard what your mother said, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Alma told him, “but—”
“Now, don’t you worry,” Grandpa said. “Come and sit down next to me and let me tell you a story that taught me a lesson about complaining.
“Several years ago, when I was the county assessor, I had to ride over the desert in central Utah and count all the sheep. One day when my Indian friend Hunkup and I went out to count a flock, we forgot to take along some water. Now, the desert gets mighty hot. If you don’t take along any water, you have to know where the water holes are or you can die.”
“Did you know where they were, Grandpa?” Alma asked.
“I knew where some of them were, but the closest one was about a three hours’ ride away. On our way to the water hole, I started to get mighty thirsty. I turned to Hunkup and asked, ‘Hunkup, aren’t you thirsty?’ He turned to me and answered, ‘No, I’m not thirsty.’
“We rode on a little farther, and my lips began to crack, they were so dry. I turned to Hunkup again and asked, ‘Hunkup, aren’t you thirsty?’ Again he replied, ‘No, I’m not thirsty.’
“I couldn’t talk anymore. My only thought was to get some water. Even our horses were so thirsty that they could hardly walk. Finally we went over a ridge, and about forty feet in front of us was the water hole.
“Before you could say lickety-split, Hunkup was facedown in that water hole, drinking like he was going to drink it dry. I staggered over, plopped down beside him, and gasped, ‘Hunkup, I thought you said you weren’t thirsty.’ Hunkup lifted his head out of the water, looked at me, and said, ‘Now I’m thirsty.’
“You see, Alma, complaining about being thirsty didn’t get us to the water hole any sooner.”
Alma looked up at Grandpa and saw a twinkle in the old man’s eyes. The next time Grandpa comes, Alma thought, I’ll be just like Hunkup. I won’t want Grandpa to be here until he comes.

I was taught about vertigo when my Air Force instructor took me up in an airplane with the cockpit covered by a canopy so I could not see outside. I would have to rely on the instruments. Unknown to me, he gradually turned the airplane upside down, keeping positive G forces. My ear did not detect the slow rollover. He told me to take control of the airplane. Of course, I did what every other student did. I pulled backwards because I was losing altitude, and, of course, I started a dive toward the earth because I did not know I was upside down.
As I started to regain control of the airplane, I could see the little marks on the landing gear were upside down. My instructor taught me the principle that you can take a human being at a two- or three-degree turn while keeping positive G forces and turn them upside down without their knowing they have left the straight and level flight. The motion is imperceptible.

I often wonder why some feel they must be critical of others. It gets in their blood, I suppose, and it becomes so natural, they often don’t even think about it. They seem to criticize everyone—the way Sister Jones leads the music, the way Brother Smith teaches a lesson or plants his garden.
Even when we think we are doing no harm by our critical remarks, consequences often follow. I am reminded of a boy who handed a donation envelope to his bishop and told him it was for him. The bishop, using this as a teaching moment, explained to the boy that he should mark on the donation slip whether it was for tithing, fast offerings, or for something else. The boy insisted the money was for the bishop himself. When the bishop asked why, the boy replied, “Because my father says you’re one of the poorest bishops we’ve ever had.”
The Church is not a place where perfect people gather to say perfect things or have perfect thoughts or have perfect feelings. The Church is a place where imperfect people gather to provide encouragement, support, and service to each other as we press on in our journey to return to our Heavenly Father.
Each one of us will travel a different road during this life. Each progresses at a different rate. Temptations that trouble your brother may not challenge you at all. Strengths that you possess may seem impossible to another.
Never look down on those who are less perfect than you. Don’t be upset because someone can’t sew as well as you, can’t throw as well as you, can’t row or hoe as well as you.
We are all children of our Heavenly Father. And we are here with the same purpose: to learn to love Him with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength and to love our neighbor as ourselves.
One way you can measure your value in the kingdom of God is to ask, “How well am I doing in helping others reach their potential? Do I support others in the Church, or do I criticize them?”
If you are criticizing others, you are weakening the Church. If you are building others, you are building the kingdom of God. As Heavenly Father is kind, we also should be kind to others.
Elder James E. Talmage, a man who is remembered for his doctrinal teachings, showed great kindness to a neighbor family in distress. They were complete strangers to him. Before he was an Apostle, as a young father he became aware of great suffering at a neighbor’s home whose large family was stricken with the dreaded diphtheria. He did not care that they were not members of the Church; his kindness and charity moved him to act. The Relief Society was desperately trying to find people to help, but no one would because of the contagious nature of the disease.
When he arrived, James found one toddler already dead and two others who were in agony from the disease. He immediately went to work, cleaning the untidy house, preparing the young body for burial, cleaning and providing for the other sick children—spending the entire day doing so. He came back the next morning to find that one more of the children had died during the night. A third child was still suffering terribly. He wrote in his journal: “She clung to my neck, … ofttimes coughing [germs] on my face and clothing, … yet I could not put her from me. During the half hour immediately preceding her death, I walked the floor with the little creature in my arms. She died in agony at 10 a.m.” The three children had all departed within the space of 24 hours. He then assisted the family with the burial arrangements and spoke at the graveside services. This he did all for a family of strangers. What a great example of Christlike kindness!
When we are filled with kindness, we are not judgmental. The Savior taught, “Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.” He also taught that “with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.”
“But,” you ask, “what if people are rude?”
Love them.
“If they are obnoxious?”
Love them.
“But what if they offend? Surely I must do something then?”
Love them.
“Wayward?”
The answer is the same. Be kind. Love them.
Why? In the scriptures, Jude taught, “And of some have compassion, making a difference.”
Who can tell what far-reaching impact we can have if we are only kind?
My brothers and sisters, the gospel of Jesus Christ transcends mortality. Our work here is but a shadow of greater and unimaginable things to come.
The heavens opened to the Prophet Joseph Smith. He saw the living God and His Son, Jesus the Christ.
In our day a prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley, walks the earth and provides direction for our time.
As our Heavenly Father loves us, we also should love His children.
May we be models of kindness. May we ever live up to the words of the Savior: “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.” Of these truths I bear witness in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Ralph Foster Diston was born at Trimdon Grange, Durham, England, on the 24th of October 1912. His parents, Ralph and Elizabeth, were Latter-day Saints and he was brought up in the faith. In 1921, at age 8, he was baptised and confirmed. He had grown up as a member of the Sunderland branch, but by 1939 he had moved to Newcastle where he worshipped with the Saints. For employment he had worked at a colliery before joining the army. In 1933 he married Francis Bransby and in 1938 they had a son, Francis. He was an ordained Deacon.
During the Second World War he served as a Company Sergeant Major (CSM) in the Durham Light Infantry (DLI). Brother Diston is remembered for his extraordinary bravery and leadership, particularly during the Battle of the Mereth Line near Wadi Zigzaou, Tunisia, on the 21st of March 1943.
During this battle, Ralph was ordered to capture a redoubt (a fortification). He led his men through intense combat, showing a complete disregard for danger and demonstrated ‘magnificent leadership’. His actions included leading assaults on enemy fortified positions, clearing trenches, and rallying his men under heavy fire. After capturing the redoubt they secured 120 Italian prisoners. His courage and determination were instrumental in the DLI’s success, and he was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal, with commendations from General Bernard Montgomery.
Despite the overwhelming odds, Brother Diston continued to inspire his men. The next day, German tanks and infantry approached the redoubt on three fronts. His cool leadership helped his company hold their position until they ran out of ammunition, after which he guided them to safety. In a nearby anti-tank ditch they armed themselves with more ammunition and continued their defence.
After recovering from wounds he incurred during the defence, he continued his military service and was involved in the Allied Invasion of Sicily. In July 1943 he led his soldiers into battle and was involved in the Assault on Primosole Bridge which spanned the Simeo River near Catania. This time, however, there was a resolute German defence and he was injured during the assault. He died of his wounds on the 18th of July leaving behind a wife and young son.
Although Ralph was only 30 years old at the time of his death, he showed immense bravery and leadership. Brother Ralph Diston is buried at the Catania War Cemetery in Sicily, Italy. On the 22nd of August 1943, a one-minute’s silence was held in honour of Ralph in the Newcastle branch.

Prayer has been and is the ever-present anchor for strength and a source of direction in our family activities. I remember kneeling at the bedside of our young children, helping them with prayers in their younger years, and later seeing the older brothers and sisters helping the younger ones. We had family prayer night and morning, with children given the opportunity to lead, and had special prayers to meet particular problems. Mention was made in family prayer, for instance, of children with assignments such as a 2 1/2-minute talk in Sunday School or a new teaching assignment in the MIA. We asked for help when one of the children faced a difficult examination in high school. Special mention was made of members of the family away at girls’ camp, Scout camp, school, or working. This special mention of particular concerns in our family prayers gave confidence, assurance, and strength to members of the family facing difficult problems and assignments.

Thanks so much for the November New Era. I was inspired so much when I read “God Speaks with Our Voices.” I read this article many times because I was very impressed with the missionary work in Chile. It inspired me to achieve the same kind of success in my own mission. My companion and I (both of us are Indonesian) were finding it difficult to find sincere investigators to teach. But after reading this article, we decided that we must work harder than before, so we prayed humbly to our Father in Heaven that he would show us the pure in heart.
And as we went about our work, I also always remembered in my mind “God speaks with our voices.” Approximately two weeks later we found some investigators who were eager to know the Lord’s way. As we taught them, they were very happy because they could feel the Spirit of God. They asked to be baptized and brought to us their neighbors and friends to be taught the true gospel of Jesus Christ. Some of those friends have been baptized and are active in the Church. We are still busy teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ. I am so grateful to the New Era.
Elder Eddy P. JudjionoIndonesia Jakarta Mission

At this critical point in her life, Minerva had two experiences that took her out of the art world. The first experience crystallized her desire for life with a family—specifically, for life with Herman. In a testimony meeting she was listening to a sister speak on the joys of marriage and motherhood. “I thought of all the men I had met in my search for ‘the right one,’” wrote Minerva later. At that moment, she realized that “back on the Idaho desert, herding his cattle and branding his calves was a man more nearly meant for me than anyone else in the world” (unpublished autobiographical sketch, 1937, transcription from handwritten manuscript). Never one to doubt her own judgment, Minerva returned home to Idaho and married Herman.

In a recent Sunday Relief Society meeting, I listened to a young mother share part of her journey of conversion. She had grown up in the Church, with parents who taught her the gospel. She attended Primary, Young Women, and seminary. She loved to learn and discover truths. Her constant quest was to know why. Elder Russell M. Nelson has said, “The Lord can only teach an inquiring mind.”4 And this young woman was teachable.

After high school she attended a university, was sealed in the temple to a returned missionary, and was blessed with beautiful children.

With the spirit of inquiry, this mother continued to ask questions. But as the questions grew harder, so did the answers. And sometimes there were no answers—or no answers that brought peace. Eventually, as she sought to find answers, more and more questions arose, and she began to question some of the very foundations of her faith.

During this confusing time, some of those around her said, “Just lean on my faith.” But she thought, “I can’t. You don’t understand; you’re not grappling with these issues.” She explained, “I was willing to extend courtesy to those without doubts if they would extend courtesy to me.” And many did.

She said, “My parents knew my heart and allowed me space. They chose to love me while I was trying to figure it out for myself.” Likewise, this young mother’s bishop often met with her and spoke of his confidence in her.

Ward members also did not hesitate to give love, and she felt included. Her ward was not a place to put on a perfect face; it was a place of nurture.

“It was interesting,” she remembers. “During this time I felt a real connection to my grandparents who had died. They were pulling for me and urging me to keep trying. I felt they were saying, ‘Focus on what you know.’”

In spite of her substantial support system, she became less active. She said, “I did not separate myself from the Church because of bad behavior, spiritual apathy, looking for an excuse not to live the commandments, or searching for an easy out. I felt I needed the answer to the question ‘What do I really believe?’”

About this time she read a book of the writings of Mother Teresa, who had shared similar feelings. In a 1953 letter, Mother Teresa wrote: “Please pray specially for me that I may not spoil His work and that Our Lord may show Himself—for there is such terrible darkness within me, as if everything was dead. It has been like this more or less from the time I started ‘the work.’ Ask Our Lord to give me courage.”

Archbishop Périer responded: “God guides you, dear Mother; you are not so much in the dark as you think. The path to be followed may not always be clear at once. Pray for light; do not decide too quickly, listen to what others have to say, consider their reasons. You will always find something to help you. … Guided by faith, by prayer, and by reason with a right intention, you have enough.”5

My friend thought if Mother Teresa could live her religion without all the answers and without a feeling of clarity in all things, maybe she could too. She could take one simple step forward in faith—and then another. She could focus on the truths she did believe and let those truths fill her mind and heart.

For 17-year-old twins Titaina and Titaua Germain, from the Haumi Branch on the island of Moorea, those special missionaries are Elder Nelson and Elder Snowden. The twins, who share everything, including remarkably similar faces, said: “When the missionaries explained to us about the principles of the gospel, we were truly astounded. It was as if we had dreamed of meeting people who lived like this and a church that worked like this one.”
The twins have to wait until their 18th birthday to be baptized, but they attend all their church meetings and institute classes besides. “We were both interested from the moment we heard about the gospel from Elder Nelson and Elder Snowden,” said Titaina. Or was it Titaua? “We feel the same about things.”

It is Sharing Time in Primary and, by choice, the little girl sits in the back of the children’s meeting room by herself. She is like any other child there—except that she doesn’t have a nose, an ear, true eyelids, or fingers. Skin grafts cover 45 percent of her body, and on her left leg is a brace with four pins piercing her muscles to the bone.
Sage Volkman, at eight, has faced—and overcome—more pain than most people experience in a lifetime.
The children begin to sing, and Sage joins in with her small but positive voice:
Jesus once was a little child,
A little child like me. …
On 24 October 1986, Sage’s father, Michael Volkman, decided to take his two children camping. [Only six days earlier, Michael, his wife Denise, and their son, Avery, had been baptized into the Church. Their five-year-old daughter, Sage—a bright, green-eyed child who loved soccer and was developing a talent for drawing—had been disappointed that she couldn’t be baptized, too; but she was content to know that one day she would be old enough.]
There was ice forming on Bluewater Lake that morning when Michael and eight-year-old Avery left Sage asleep in their camping trailer and went fishing. Michael regretted that Denise couldn’t be with them but she was a kindergarten teacher and hadn’t been able to find anyone to substitute for her at school.
As the early morning sky grew lighter, Michael walked back to the trailer to check on Sage. All seemed well. Five minutes after he rejoined Avery at the lake, dogs began to bark, and Avery turned to see smoke rising above their campsite 140 meters away. Michael’s heart pounded as he ran back to camp. The trailer was engulfed in flames. Inside, Sage was still in her sleeping bag.
Throwing open the trailer door, Michael was beaten back by smoke and flame. Taking a gulp of air, he ran into the trailer, gathering up handfuls of burning sleeping bags until he found Sage’s still body.
Ignoring the burns on his face and hands, he dragged Sage out of the trailer and immediately started artificial resuscitation. Almost three minutes passed. Sage remained lifeless. He continued pushing on her chest so hard he broke one of her ribs. Finally, he heard a little sound coming from her and saw her chest heave.
Avery, who had been praying desperately, suddenly remembered the containers of flammable propane gas stored at the side of the trailer. “Dad,” he yelled, “I think we’d better move!”
Michael nodded and painfully pulled Sage farther from the trailer. Seconds later the propane containers exploded.
Then followed a confusion of events: The twenty-minute race against death with another fisherman who drove Michael and the two children over a rough, unpaved road to a forest ranger station where they radioed for help; the ambulance trip to Grants, New Mexico, from where Sage was flown to the University of New Mexico’s burn unit; then Michael’s own 110-kilometer ride with Avery to Albuquerque, New Mexico, in an ambulance he could neither see nor touch because his eyes and hands were wrapped in bandages.
When Sage was first wheeled into the burn unit, the medical staff had little hope that she would survive the night. “They gave her a ten percent chance of living,” Michael remembers. She had third- and fourth-degree burns on her face, arms, chest, and legs. Her nose and one ear had been melted off. Her fingers were so charred that they would have to be amputated. She lost thirty-five percent of her eyelids. One lung had collapsed, and another was barely functioning; a liter of soot would be extracted from them.
She was also in a coma.
Somehow, Sage hung on to life, and two days later the doctors felt she was strong enough to receive the first of what would eventually be eight skin grafts. Then she developed pneumonia.
“All we did those first ten days was cry and pray,” says Michael.
Denise learned of the accident while teaching her kindergarten class. “A deputy sheriff called me. I had to stuff my fist into my mouth to keep from screaming. When I finally saw Sage, I would not have known she was my daughter if someone hadn’t told me.”
Both Michael and Denise credit Sage’s survival to the skill of the medical staff who attended her and to the faith and prayers of the members of their new church.
“We found out immediately what the Church was all about,” Michael says. “The ward held some special fasts, although we didn’t even know what a fast was at the time. And many people came to give their support. Sage received many priesthood blessings.”
One of the first blessings was given by Robert DeBuck. Robert with his wife, Ruth, had introduced the Volkmans to the Church. “When Robert blessed Sage,” Ruth recalls, “he told her to go where it was safe—into Heavenly Father’s arms. We lived for a long time on faith in that blessing. We believe that’s where she was.”
Months later, Sage gave evidence of the power of that faith. One day Denise asked her if she remembered anything at all during those first six weeks. Sage said she remembered being with Jesus.
A little skeptical, her mother asked, “What did he say?”
“He just held me and told me he was sorry that I was hurt. He told me he loved me,” Sage replied.
“What did you say?”
“I told him I loved him, too. I said I wanted to stay, but he told me I had things to do. Then he was gone.”
Denise, always the realist in the family, smiled. “Well, do angels have wings?”
“Mother!” Sage said. “You know angels don’t have wings!”

I was called to the Ghana Accra Mission, speaking English instead of my native Portuguese. I was so nervous about learning English! I couldn’t believe I was going to have to speak such an impossible language.
But during our first class in the MTC, my teacher wrote the words “Believe it” on the board—meaning believe that we can do all things with Christ (see Philippians 4:13).
I believed this, but I didn’t think it extended to my ability to learn a new language in just six weeks. I had no idea how I was supposed to do something that seemed so impossible!
After that first day of class, I knelt in prayer in my room. I told Heavenly Father that I would trust Him, and even though I wasn’t positive about my ability to learn English, I would act in faith as much as I could. I told Him I would choose to believe that with the Savior’s help I could do this.
And as the weeks went by, I slowly but surely felt myself learning this impossible language.
It was a miracle.
Since learning about Jesus Christ, I have always believed in Him. But believing in what He and Heavenly Father can help us accomplish is something different and something I had to work on. Without faith, miracles can look like mere coincidences. But as I chose to have faith in Christ and combined that with my efforts to learn, I felt Him magnifying my abilities and capacity.