Gospel Story Finder

But it was Debbie Hanson, 16, of the Crystal Second Ward, who harvested one of the sweetest fruits of sharing:

“My parents knew some people from the Orient, and we kept spending time with their family,” Debbie says. “They had a girl my age named Ting Ming. We talked a lot about the Church, basically a testimony sharing thing. When the missionaries asked me if I would befriend her, I had to smile. We had already become good friends. Six months later, when Ting was baptized, she told me, ‘Thank you for giving me this beautiful truth.’”

It is a typical Saturday morning along the Salt Lake Valley’s Jordan River. The sun’s rays shimmer as they reflect off calm waters, the birds’ warbles create a peaceful harmony, and the squirrels’ chatter echoes through the trees. Suddenly, the usual tranquility of the early morning is interrupted as large clusters of people round a bend in the smooth trail that runs along the river. There are 500 people of all ages and denominations. What’s more, they are laughing and talking together.
Maybe this isn’t such a typical Saturday.
It was last April that Brighton High School senior Gweneth Thomas decided that she needed to get more involved in service. So she approached a representative of Church World Service, an interfaith organization dedicated to helping fellow Christians in times of need. She soon became at least 80 hours immersed in service as she agreed to become the organization’s first youth coordinator of the annual Christian Rural Overseas Program walk.
CROP walks are worldwide fundraisers for struggling countries in times of crisis. Volunteers are asked to pledge money and then walk a six-mile course to help them appreciate the hardships of fellow Christians all over the world.
The theme of the 1996 walk was “We walk because they walk,” referring to the individuals in many developing countries who must walk five or six hours a day to find food and water.
Besides raising money for the needy, Gweneth and her co-chair, Max Freeman, had a very specific goal in mind for the 1996 walk. They wanted members of the ten participating religions to work to break down the barriers between each other and move from intolerance to acceptance, from acceptance to respect, and finally from respect to love.
But before any of this could happen, Gweneth and Max felt they needed to get teenagers involved as well as adults. They started in their high school cafeteria. Fellow Brighton High students Alina Stay, Brenna Flynn, and Mindy Pitts observed their classmates’ reactions to Gweneth’s pleas for donations.
“What doesn’t seem like a lot of money to me will feed a lot of people [in another country],” says Mindy.
Brenna, a convert to the Church, was especially concerned with helping Gweneth and Max create peaceful interfaith relations through the walk.
The most exciting part of the event for her was seeing that goal fulfilled as “people from other faiths shared testimonies and showed the true spirit of Christianity without the normal my-church-is-better-than-your-church attitude,” she says.
“Build up trust and gain a respect for each other,” says Max.
And not only did the teens spur these good relations between denominations while donating money; they walked as well.
Perhaps it was the strenuous six-mile walk. Perhaps it was the wooden signs along the trails with poignant messages. Perhaps it was the experience of associating with people of many different faiths. Whatever the case, the mood at the picnic afterward was reflective.
Everyone seemed to sense what Gweneth put into words, “One person can make a big difference.”

Claire’s friends were here. She grabbed her in-line skates from the shelf in the hallway.
“Bye, Mom!” she called to her mother, who was sewing in the other room.
“Bye, Claire! I know you’ll be good and have a good time, too!”
Mom always said that same thing whenever Claire went off with her friends. She was eleven, about to turn twelve. A few weeks back, Claire, Jessica, Amanda, and Whitney had decided to skate once a week at the Recreation Center downtown. After school on Fridays was Claire’s favorite time of the whole week. And today she even had a cute new outfit on—a red plaid button shirt over a cream tank top.
At the Center, Claire sat by Jessica as they put on their skates. “Let’s try the jump today,” she said.
“And let’s work on our turns,” Jessica said. “Everybody ready?”
The girls hopped off the wooden bench and sailed onto the floor. Claire threw out her arms and caught her balance, teetering around like a listing sailboat. Halfway around the room, she felt suddenly at ease, her feet relaxing inside her skates, her body gliding effortlessly along the glistening sea of wooden floor as if pushed by a wind.
“Hey, Claire, that’s a cute shirt,” said Jessica. “Is it new?”
“Do you really like it? My mom found it on sale.”
It wasn’t long before the girls were ready for the jump. A wooden ramp was set up in the middle of the skating rink, reminding Claire of an ocean wave. The four girls lined up behind her and sped around the rink, building up speed for the jump. Claire hit the ramp and for a split second floated on air a few inches above the floor. “Whee!” The others followed with squeals of delight.
After several jumps, Claire wiped her forehead. “I’m hot. Let’s work on our turns, Jessica.”
The two friends went over to a quiet corner of the rink. Full 360° turns required patience and a lot of slow practice.
“I did it!” Jessica exulted. “Now you.”
Claire took one glide forward and twisted her body, her skates making a half circle. Around she went in a shaky, slow-motion twirl. “I did it, too! But it needs work.”
“You get better every time,” Jessica called over her shoulder, in the middle of another turn. “Is that a tank top you’re wearing underneath your new shirt? Is it new, too?”
“Yes, I got it just to wear under my shirts. I think the layers look cool.”
“They look cool, but it’s hot skating and you’re wearing two shirts,” Jessica pointed out, skating around Claire. “Why don’t you take off your shirt and skate in your tank top?”
Claire finished a turn and looked straight at Jessica. “I promised my mom—” She stopped when she noticed that Jessica had taken off her sweater and was skating in a thin-strapped tank top herself. Her bare arms and shoulders looked cool. Still, she remembered her mother’s words as she left the house. “I know you’ll be good and have a good time, too.” Claire also remembered what her mother was sewing—a prom dress for Claire’s big sister because there weren’t any modest ones in the stores.
“Come on, Claire,” said Jessica. “Look at Whitney and Amanda. They’re wearing tank tops, too.”
Claire braked and stood up straight. “I promised my mom I would only wear the tank top if I wore it under other shirts. Besides I like my outfit just like this. Let’s do some more jumps.”
Jessica shrugged. Claire led the way, sailing around the rink, building up speed for the jump. She hit the wave and flew, her new red plaid shirttails flapping in the breeze.
Be Clean.How truly beautiful is a well-groomed young woman who is clean in body and mind. She is a daughter of God in whom her Eternal Father can take pride.President Gordon B. Hinckley(Friend, Feb. 2001, page 25.)

In the spring of 2001, the First Presidency invited me to dedicate a building on the beautiful campus of Southern Utah State University in Cedar City, Utah. At the time, I was puzzled as to why I would receive this assignment. I am not an educator by experience or training. I was not a graduate of that institution, nor had I any previous association with the University. Nevertheless, I went ahead with the assignment.

Sister Sorensen and I were having breakfast with Brother and Sister Bennion, who, some of you may remember, was president of this institution not so many years ago. The experience I am about to tell you was spoken of by Sister Marjorie Bennion here on this campus several years ago. I have collaborated with her and she has given me permission to make reference to some of the following incidents: While at breakfast at the Southern Utah State University, Sister Bennion said to me, “I understand you are the Executive Director of the Temple Department and there is consideration being given to rebuild the Nauvoo Temple.” Before I could answer, Sister Bennion continued, “I visit teach a less-active sister whose great grandfather was the architect of the Nauvoo Temple. His name was William Weeks. Would you be interested in talking to her? I think she could be helpful. She would very much appreciate making contact with an official from the Temple Department of the Church.

I was delighted and excited. I explained to Sister Bennion that the Church had a few limited drawings and plans from the original Nauvoo Temple. They came to the Church in a rather unusual way. Let me explain.

In 1948, Elder Vern C. Thackery and Elder Frank Gifford knocked on the door of Mr. and Mrs. Leslie Griffith in the…town of Boron, California located in the Mohave Desert. It turned out that the Griffiths were descendants of William Weeks. They were not members of the Church at the time.

Their great grandfather, Brother William Weeks, had a misunderstanding with Brigham Young regarding the design of the Salt Lake Temple. President Young insisted Brother Weeks yield to the inspiration of the President of the Church. Brother Weeks left President Young’s office – never to return again. He took the plans of the Nauvoo Temple with him.

So, going forward all those years, the missionaries tracted into the Griffiths in 1948, who happened to be descendants of Brother Weeks, and miracle of miracles, had possession of some of the original plans of the Nauvoo Temple. According to Elder Thackery, he was driving an old Ford with a rumble seat, which is a seat that can be hidden. They gave Elder Thackery the documents and he put them in the rumble seat, closed it and forgot them.

Sometime later, after the Elder was home in Heber City, Utah, he remembered the documents and delivered them to the Historical Department of the Church.

Now we turn to 2001 in Cedar City, Utah with President and Sister Bennion. Remember she said, “I am visiting teaching the great-granddaughter of William Weeks. I think she has some plans of the Nauvoo Temple. Would you please go and visit with her? Better still, why don’t I go and bring her here? You can have lunch with her.”

She promptly left to retrieve the good sister and the architectural drawing. She came right back with both of them. Sister Griffiths had in her hands the actual drawings of the Nauvoo Temple – drawings the Church did not have. We quickly made arrangements for her to go to Salt Lake City and present the last pieces of the puzzle, restoring all as it was at first.

Since the Church was driven from Nauvoo, think how many places those Nauvoo Temple drawings must have been. Think of how many old trunks and covered wagons they were in, as they crossed half a continent. Imagine them passing through the generations of the Weeks family. Finally, 100 years later, consider two missionaries knocking on a remote door in the middle of the Mohave Desert.

All along Heavenly Father knew where those plans were. They weren’t lost to Him. His vigilant eye was watching over them until the time came to restore them for His great purpose of rebuilding the Nauvoo Temple in our day.

Some years ago a faithful convert, Brother George McLaughlin, was called to preside over a small branch of 20 members in Farmingdale, Maine. He was a humble man, driving a milk delivery truck for a living. Through his fasting and earnest prayer, the Spirit taught him what he and the members of his branch needed to do to help the Church grow in their area. Through his great faith, constant prayer, and powerful example, he taught his members how to share the gospel. It’s a marvelous story, one of the great missionary stories of this dispensation. In just one year, there were 450 convert baptisms in the branch. The next year there were an additional 200 converts. President McLaughlin indicated: “My job as branch president was to teach [the new converts] how to be Mormons. I had to teach them how to give talks and lessons in church. I had to teach them how to teach the gospel to their children. I trained the new members to become strong members.” Pretty simple.

Just five years later, the Augusta Maine Stake was organized. Much of the leadership of that new stake came from those converts in the Farmingdale Branch. Now we might ask why there was such great success in those days, and the answer may be because of the urgent need to strengthen the Church. Let me assure you that that same urgency in all units of the Church is every bit as critical today as it was then.

MonicaWhen Keoni and I got married, we hoped to have children right away, but things didn’t go as planned. It took us three and a half years to have our first child. During those years, we had many tearful nights, but we got through it together by talking openly, leaning on each other, and offering constant support. Eventually, we were blessed with Sai, and then four more healthy and wonderful children. We love them and are so grateful to be their parents.

On a rainy day on our campus, President Holland—then BYU’s ninth president—saw a student caught in the downpour. The student’s name was Matt. President Holland rolled down his car window and beckoned Matt to come over. Sister Holland was in the car as well, and the Hollands offered Matt a ride home.

Unbeknownst to the Hollands, Matt was uncertain about his future and didn’t know if he could “make it.” But as they drove Matt to his apartment—in the very same complex where President and Sister Holland had themselves once lived—he opened up about his worries, and they assured Matt he could and he would make it.

“Matt, part of your problem is that you don’t believe,” President Holland finally put it bluntly.

“Oh, I’m not talking about your testimony,” he went on. Rather, “you just believe that God will work His mighty miracles for everyone but you.”

And then President Holland underscored the point: “You gotta believe, Matt. You gotta believe.”13

Elder Matthew O. Richardson would go on to serve as BYU’s advancement vice president, as a mission leader together with his wife, Lisa, as a member of the Sunday School general presidency, and now as an Area Seventy. Elder Richardson teaches on our faculty as a professor of Church history and doctrine.

The Prophet Joseph was a great exemplar, not only of this principle but also of having total faith and confidence in the promises of the Lord. I should like to share with you an entry from the diary of my great-great grandmother. This is a record of a little-known experience of the Prophet Joseph—little known because this diary was lost for 30 to 40 years in my mother’s home in New Jersey. It was only rediscovered as they were preparing to move back to Utah in the late 1970s. This is a diary entry of Sister Sarah Stoddard. Her son Charles, my great-grandfather, as a boy of 14, was asked by the Prophet Joseph to serve as a houseboy for William Law, an enemy of the Prophet, and to inform him of any of the Laws’ devious plans. It was, I guess, an early form of counterintelligence.

Note the date of the diary entry: April 1844. It was just two months before the Martyrdom of the Prophet.

Dear Diary,
Charles had another faith-promoting experience last night.

Early this morning, even while the darkness still hemmed out the light of the day, Mr. Law, after he had been drinking and planning with his associates through the night, got Charles out of bed to clean and oil his gun. He said he was going to shoot the Prophet, only William Law called him “old Joe Smith.” Poor Charles was frightened beyond description, but Mr. Law stood over him and prodded him with his foot when Charles hesitated through fright and anxiety. Finally, when Mr. Law was satisfied with the way the gun was working, he put one bullet in. (He boasted he could kill the Prophet with one shot.) He sent Charles to bring the Prophet.

He ran as fast as he could and delivered the message, but he begged the Prophet not to go to Mr. Law’s as Mr. Law was drunk and Charles was afraid he would carry through on his threat to shoot the Prophet in cold blood.

As they walked the few blocks from the Mansion House to the Law residence, the Prophet assured Charles that no harm would come to him that day. Charles was frightened, and he said that it kept racing through his mind, “I am the one that cleaned the gun that is going to be used to kill the Prophet,” until he was sick with fear. The Prophet in a final attempt to calm my dear son uttered the fateful words, “Mr. Law may someday kill me, Charles, but it won’t be today.”

As they approached their destination, Mr. Law came staggering out of the house shouting out what he intended to do.

The Prophet said kindly and unafraid, “You sent for me, Mr. Law?” to which Mr. Law replied with oaths that now he was doing the whole a favor by disposing of the Prophet with one shot.

Calmly the Prophet unbuttoned his shirt and bared his chest, then said, “I’m ready now, Mr. Law.” Charles said at this point he nearly fainted. Sick fear strangled him until he was speechless and paralyzed, unable to move a muscle.

Mr. Law paced a few steps, turned, aimed, and pressed the trigger. There was complete silence. Then the air rang with profanity, and Mr. Law turned on Charles, accusing him of fixing the gun so it would not go off and threatening to kill even Charles—my innocent, frightened, but faithful son.

The Prophet, to divert Mr. Law’s blame of Charles, suggested that a can be placed on a fence post for Mr. Law to take a practice shot. Relieved, Charles ran for a can and laid it on its side on the post. Mr. Law paced back, took aim, and fired. His “one shot” streaked through the exact center of the can.

Even Mr. Law was quiet, as if stunned.

The Prophet buttoned up his shirt, gave Charles a meaningful look, and then said, “If you are finished with me now, Mr. Law, I have other things needing to be done. Good morning. [Diary of Sarah Stoddard; text modernized]”

Kinsey watched through the car window as soggy brown hills zoomed past. Patches of snow clung to the ground. Tiny green leaves dotted the barren trees, not quite ready for spring.
“Why does the drive to Grandma’s house take so long?” Kinsey complained.
“Just a few more minutes,” Dad said.
“Why don’t you play a game?” Mom suggested.
“I already played the alphabet game and the license-plate game,” Kinsey said. “I colored pictures in my notebook and made paper animals. I’m bored!”
Kinsey pressed her nose against the car window. She glanced at her little brother, Taylor, asleep in his car seat. Even though she was bored, Kinsey was too excited to sleep. She hadn’t seen Grandma in so long. Grandma would have new books for her to read. They would gather at Aunt Michelle’s house for a family dinner with all the cousins. Most of all, Kinsey looked forward to a whole weekend of spending time with Grandma.
“Oh! It’s already started,” Mom said as she turned on the radio.
A clear, calm voice came from the speakers. Kinsey sat a little taller. She closed her eyes and tried to think. Where had she heard that voice before? Suddenly, she remembered.
“I know that voice!” she said with a smile. “It’s the prophet!”
Kinsey loved the prophet’s voice. It was strong and peaceful and kind. When the prophet spoke, it felt as if he were talking right to her. She listened closely to his words.
The prophet announced new temples being built in faraway parts of the world. Kinsey thought about all the people who would now be closer to a beautiful temple.
The prophet talked about missionaries. Kinsey remembered the letters they wrote in Primary for an older couple from their ward serving a mission in Slovenia.
The prophet talked about being kind to others. Kinsey thought about how she had been trying hard to be kind to her brother, even when he grabbed her toys or scribbled with her markers.
Finally, the prophet talked about families. Kinsey thought about how much she loved visiting her family at general conference time.
“We’re here!” Dad announced.
Kinsey looked out the window. How did they get to Grandma’s so fast?
“Let’s hurry inside so we don’t miss any more of conference,” Mom said.
Kinsey ran up the steps and rang the doorbell to Grandma’s house. The drive hadn’t been boring after all!

Last March, University of Utah forward Britton Johnsen was making a huge impact in Texas, helping to propel his team on its incredible cruise through the NCAA finals all the way to the championship game in San Antonio. There he played in an arena packed with some 41,000 screaming fans and was watched by a worldwide television audience of several hundred million. Britton’s impressive play under pressure wasn’t surprising considering the titles and descriptions he’d earned: McDonald’s all-American, Utah’s Mr. Basketball, top-20 recruit, “a star in the making,” “breathtakingly talented,” and “able to jump out of a gym.”
This March, Britton continues to make an impact in Texas. Only now he has traded his blazing red jersey for a white shirt and tie, his audiences seldom exceed a handful of people, and his only title is “Elder” as he serves in the Texas Houston Mission.
Shortly after the NCAA finals, Britton announced his decision to serve a mission. The decision came at no small sacrifice. Many people, including Utah head coach Rick Majerus, say Britton has tremendous NBA potential, but leaving the game for two years may jeopardize his pro chances. “Coach was saying everything he could to get me to stay,” recalls Britton. “I’ve been told that if I stay for all four years in a row, I’d definitely go pro.”
Still, when asked how he’d feel if serving a mission meant giving up the NBA or even his college career, Britton quickly replies, “It would be worth it.
“I could join the things-of-the-world team, maybe go to the NBA, make it big, make a lot of money. Or I can play on the things-of-the-Spirit team. Basketball will someday end. But the Spirit is always there—if you do what’s right, it will never leave you.”
Britton is quick to shrug off praise he receives for being willing to give up so much, pointing out that everyone who serves a mission does so at some sacrifice. “Just leaving your mom and dad is sacrifice enough!” He says that for his twin brother, Brandon (serving in the Canada Calgary Mission), going on a mission was every bit as significant and every bit as difficult.
Coming out of high school, Britton was heavily recruited by several top programs. He signed with Utah so he could eventually play with his older brother, Jeff, who had played one year for Utah before leaving for his mission.
Britton began the season with great expectations—sports magazines listed him as a top-20 recruit and compared him to Keith Van Horn, the Utah all-American who had been a number-two NBA draft pick in 1997. But hopes for Britton came crashing down when he sustained a knee injury early on.
“I planned on having a great year, going on a mission, then coming back for three more years,” he says. But as the season progressed, Britton’s injury kept him on the sidelines. “The season was turning into a disaster.”
For the first time in his life, Britton began to question whether he should go on a mission. Majerus told the press that if Britton were to go after being benched all year, “his pro chances are null and void and his chance for a college career is really in peril. He can’t sit three years.”
Dejected and struggling, Britton turned to a man he looks up to more than any other—his father. “He was such a boost. He would just sit me down and help me open my eyes and realize the right thing to do. But there was no pressure. I knew he would have supported me either way.”
Still wanting more than anything a chance to play before the season ended, Britton also turned to his Heavenly Father. “I prayed nonstop that my knee would improve and that I’d have a chance to prove myself.”
In what seemed like a small miracle, just three games before the end of the season Britton began to get playing time. “Coach said I’d been working so hard that whether he won with me or lost with me, he was going to put me in.”
After being benched all season, Britton was out of sync at first. But with each game, his performance improved and his playing time increased. Astonishingly, by the time the NCAA tournament started, he was playing remarkably well. He was a big factor in the underdog Utes’ upset victories over third-ranked North Carolina and defending NCAA champion Arizona.
“This is what I got from the Lord—the chance to prove what I could do,” says Britton. In the end Britton got his dream come true: an opportunity to play—and play well—in the NCAA championship game.
Britton’s older brother Jeff, who continues to serve in the California Fresno mission, helped Britton keep the whole thing in perspective. “Jeff told me that through all this attention Satan would try to get me not to go. But he bore his testimony to me and let me know that a mission is still so much better than playing basketball.”
Another answer to Britton’s prayers also came during the NCAA tournament—surprisingly, from a competitor. Mark Madsen is a Stanford starting forward who led his team to the Final Four last year. He also happens to be a returned missionary.
Like Britton, Mark knew the thrill of playing in a Final Four game, although his team lost. The day after the loss, Mark shared his testimony at a ward in San Antonio. “I heard that Mark bore his testimony, saying that it had been one of the best weeks of his life, but that it still didn’t compare to his feelings of being on a mission,” says Britton. “Hearing this made my decision easier.”
“That was the greatest dream of my life.” When Britton says this, he’s not talking about playing in the biggest game of college basketball. He’s not describing how he felt knowing millions of sports fans were watching him. Rather, he is talking about a brief, unexpected encounter he had with the First Presidency shortly after the finals.
Back in Salt Lake City, Ute players were presenting a signed basketball to the First Presidency when an assistant coach suggested Britton discuss with them his decision to serve a mission. Before Britton knew what was happening, he found himself alone with the First Presidency in President Hinckley’s office.
“I was totally stuttering,” says Britton. “I said, ‘Going on a mission has been a tough decision, and I guess I already know what the right thing to do is, but it would be nice to hear what you’d say.’ Then President Hinckley smiled at me and said, ‘Well, what do you think I’m going to say?’”
“President Monson explained that I had been a highly touted freshman, that I had been pressured to stay, and that some people were saying I could represent the Church in other ways. Then right away President Hinckley stood up, took my hand, looked me in the eye, and said very clearly, ‘You go on a mission and the Lord will bless you.’ It was an awesome feeling.”
Not long after, Britton had a final talk with his father and his coach, then announced his decision to serve. “It just felt right; I just felt good about the decision,” Britton explains.
In the end, Britton’s coach supported his decision. “It is with regret and sadness from a basketball standpoint that Britton departs, but I am pleased because he seems to be so at peace and happy about the decision,” said Majerus. “I’m proud to be a coach of so many young men who felt so good about a religious experience that they would want to sacrifice their basketball.”
This year, Elder Britton Johnsen won’t be participating in March Madness. But he says that’s okay with him. “I get the same goose-bumpy feeling just reading my scriptures as I do playing in front of 40,000 people,” he says. “Besides, the things I’ll gain on my mission and the things other people will hopefully gain because I go will make it all worth it.”

Elder Pace, who spoke at a devotional in the Marriott Center on January 11, recounted a near-death experience he had last year that reemphasized to him the importance of using this life to understand our divine roles in the gospel plan.

After a sudden heart attack, Elder Pace underwent an operation that required six bypasses. During a second heart attack one hour later, his heart stopped beating for three minutes, and he went into shock. Much of his heart muscle was lost, and he was put on life support. Despite the doctors’ worries, Elder Pace’s heart began to beat on its own five days later, and his body recovered from the trauma.

After the ordeal, Elder Pace said a single phrase has affected his thoughts and actions enormously. “To this day, etched indelibly on my soul are the words: ‘Your work is not yet finished,’” Elder Pace said. “There’s a challenge and a blessing with not knowing either why you got sent back or how much time you’ve got left.”

My dad got sick when I was one year old. He prayed that he would stay alive long enough to baptize me, and he did. Two months after my baptism, he died. After my dad died, I was sad, so I prayed about it. I asked Heavenly Father to help me not be sad. Now I am not so sad anymore. I still think of my dad, and I think of how we are an eternal family. I think about how I will get to see Dad again.Tyler Miller, age 8Orchard Park, New York

I noted that we also bear our testimonies by our lives. In World War II I was stationed at an army camp in Pennsylvania. We lived in a little ward in which our stake patriarch also lived. His name was William G. Stoops. Brother Stoops worked at a machine shop in the little town of Waynesboro, Pennsylvania. Everyone called him “Pappy.” He was a kindly, gentle, wonderful, exemplary member of the Church. All who met him honored and admired him. One time a nonmember with whom he worked said something like this: “I don’t know much about the Mormon church. I have never met with the missionaries, and I have never studied the doctrine. I have never been to one of their services, but I know Pappy Stoops; and if the Church produces men like Pappy Stoops, it has to have much good in it.” We never know the power of our own example for either good or bad.

President Ezra Taft Benson had a similar experience while serving as a missionary in South Shields, England, in 1923. He states:
“We fasted and prayed sincerely that we would say only those things that would touch the hearts of the investigators, then went to the sacrament meeting. My companion had planned to talk on the first principles of the gospel. I had prepared to talk on the apostasy.
“The hall was filled, and there was a wonderful spirit in the meeting. My companion spoke first and gave an inspirational message. I followed and talked with a freedom I had never experienced before in my life. When I sat down, I realized that I had not mentioned the apostasy. I had talked on the Prophet Joseph Smith and borne my witness of his divine mission and of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. After the meeting ended, several nonmembers came forward and said, ‘Tonight we received a witness that your church is true. We are ready for baptism’” (Ensign, July 1987, pages 8–9).

As a young missionary in Japan, I received a knock on our apartment door just before bedtime. I was surprised to see our mission president standing in the rain at the apartment’s threshold.
He said, “Elder Gilbert, get dressed. We are going to see Elder Matsuo.”
Elder Matsuo’s father was dying of cancer. I immediately assumed what had happened, but as I got into the mission vehicle, President Matsumori turned to me and explained that the missionary’s mother had been killed in an accident.
He then said, “Pray that we will be able to empathize and understand what will comfort this missionary.”
I felt overwhelmed and inadequate. I can still remember the windshield wipers going back and forth as we drove in silence. Suddenly the Spirit brought Alma 7:12 to my heart:
And he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people.
I knew that the Atonement of Jesus Christ allows us to overcome sin. I knew that through Christ we could overcome death. But that night, on the Osaka freeway, I learned that Christ could also comfort us in our struggles—in our ­suffering—when life isn’t fair. I didn’t know what that young missionary was facing, but through the miracle of the Atonement, there was One who did.
For any of you who are struggling with challenges that don’t seem fair, don’t turn to the world for answers. Please turn to the covenants that bind you to Jesus Christ. He can comfort you in a way no one else can.

I don’t know how much you would place on the worth of a soul, but I witnessed an interesting experience in Boston. Last winter it got pretty cold. As February drew to a close, the ice in some of the rivers and lakes began to thaw. Unnoticed, and certainly not newsworthy, a little mongrel dog walked out into the Boston Harbor, doing, I guess, what dogs like to do. And while the dog was about a quarter of a mile from the shore, the ice commenced to break, and it trapped the little fellow. Before he realized it, he was stranded and the ice flow was moving. An interested passenger on Old Mystic Bridge, seeing the plight of the dog, summoned the fire department. The fire department rushed out with a number of ladder trucks and other equipment; and before the story ended, the police department, the mayor’s office, and several selectmen had gathered, and the whole city of Boston came to rescue one little dog. One newsman totaled the tab at the end of the day and found it had cost the city of Boston $18,000 to rescue the little dog!
I’ve thought about that in relationship to people. What price do you place on a spirit child of God? Of course there is none.
President Paul H. Dunnof the First Council of the Seventy

My first step to finding meaning in my life was to stay connected with the Saints and missionaries in Hungary. For some time, I lived for preparation days when I would receive emails from Sister Nestor and my MTC companions. I have to admit; sometimes it wasn’t easy to read about my companions’ missions or to speak with the Hungarians that I missed so badly. But as I look back now, I realize that it was critical to my healing to hear about the miracles happening there.

My little brother, gently prompted by my intuitive mother, convinced me to start indexing. Initially I did batches of names to appease him, but one day a registry of Hungarian names popped up on my screen. The Spirit swept over me and taught me that I was still able to help bring Hungarian souls to Christ—just on the other side of the veil!

After the mission, all of my pre-mission life goals seemed unattainable with my new health condition. But with time I realized that there were goals I could accomplish while lying down. I called goals such as reading Jesus the Christ “horizontal goals” and worked on them daily.

One of my pre-mission life goals was to graduate from college. While attending classes would have been difficult with my illness and the constant doctor appointments, my dad encouraged me to take online classes from Brigham Young University Independent Study. Not only was this an achievable horizontal goal, but I also realized that maybe I was capable of doing more pre-mission goals than I had previously thought possible.

One day at church, a sister walked up to my mom and said, “Do you know that Destiny can serve an online indexing mission?” This unexpected question was an answer to my prayers. I was able to serve the Lord for nine months as an indexing support Church-service missionary. This was a mission I could do!*

As I became better at managing my health condition, I began studying at a community college while doing my online mission. I was asked to teach mission preparation at the nearby institute. Teaching helped me realize that my enthusiasm for missionary work had not waned and that even my short mission had provided me with many experiences that could be valuable for my students.

After successfully attending a semester of college near my home, I moved to Utah, USA, to attend BYU. At first, I could hardly walk by the Provo MTC without feeling a rush of conflicting emotions. But I started volunteering weekly at the MTC and found that it was healing to meet the wonderful missionaries being sent to my beloved Hungary.

A Hungarian sister, Edit, who has prepared nearly 150,000 names for the temple asked me to take some of her names to the temple. It was a joy to do the saving ordinances for these Hungarians!

Serving a mission was my most important life dream and, understandably, I felt a loss when I came home earlier than anticipated. For a time, I struggled to talk about my mission. I had to work through feelings of failure. I had to learn how to judge the value of my mission by my desire to serve rather than the length. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, each of these steps toward meaning in my life also brought healing.

For years I was nervous that returning to Hungary would be difficult for me emotionally. When I eventually traveled there, it wasn’t until the second day that I realized that not only was I not feeling any pain, I was also feeling overwhelming joy to be back. I knew then that Heavenly Father had given me the opportunity to experience the healing power of the Savior’s Atonement. I now know that through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, all things will be made right in the end.

*Many early returned missionaries continue to serve as young Church-service missionaries. Meet with your bishop or branch president for more information.

Saturday, February 7, 2004, found my wife and me in a hotel in Gijón in northern Spain, where I was serving as president of the Spain Bilbao Mission. As we finished our evening meal, I checked my cellular phone for any messages I had not heard. It did indeed indicate that a missionary had called. I noted who it was and pushed the appropriate button to call him back.
The missionary answered the phone, and after a brief greeting, I asked him what he needed. He was surprised and replied that he had not called me. I insisted that my phone had registered a call from him, but he repeated that he had not called.
We ended our conversation, but five minutes later he called me back and said, “President, I have a problem that is really making me feel uncomfortable, and I’m beside myself over it. I prayed and asked the Lord for help to know what I should do. I didn’t feel like calling you, but while I was asking the Lord what to do, you called. I was surprised because I had not called you. I knew the Lord was telling me I needed to talk to you immediately.”
We talked for a time, and his problem was solved.
When I spoke with him two days later, I asked the elder again if he had called me. “No, President,” he replied, “that was the work of the Lord.” He verified that his telephone showed he had not dialed my number, even by accident.
The Lord said, “Be thou humble; and the Lord thy God shall lead thee by the hand, and give thee answer to thy prayers” (D&C 112:10). Alma, teaching his son Helaman, said, “Counsel with the Lord in all thy doings, and he will direct thee for good” (Alma 37:37). We must do what our Heavenly Father desires in order to feel the peace we constantly need. That unexplainable call was undoubtedly an answer to a young missionary’s prayer.

María Angela Rodriguez said, “When I decided to follow Christ and make the covenants of baptism, I left everything (which wasn’t much) and followed. In the Church I have found that which I most lacked, true friendship and love. When I made my decision to follow Christ, problems and adversity did not disappear. Sometimes they seemed to increase, but I always said to myself, ‘There can’t be any halfway disciples. You must either follow Him or turn away from following.’ I am grateful to say that I always chose to follow. Like María Josefina, I, too, am acquainted with repentance. When one comes to truly understand this principle, he feels a great power in his life. The Church has made my life progress. I am progressing in the gospel and feel a very great love for all my fellow Saints everywhere.”

My companion and I were excited to open a new area for missionary work in a small town in Guatemala’s western highlands. Soon after our arrival, however, leaders and members of local churches began spreading wild stories about us. As a result, people began to fear us.
But Elder Todd Hinkins and I remained optimistic, especially after three families agreed to attend an open house about the Church. To help introduce them to the gospel, we planned to show them filmstrips about the Restoration.
When we tested our filmstrip projector before our meeting, however, the projector light bulb blew up. A power surge had apparently damaged our voltage converter. It could no longer convert 220 volts of electricity to the 110 volts we needed to power our projector.
"What now?" my companion and I lamented.
Brother Chavez, the only member of the Church who lived in town, told us that he thought the nuns in town had a voltage converter. So, while Brother Chavez drove to nearby Quetzaltenango to get another light bulb, we said a prayer and walked to the local convent.
We knocked, introduced ourselves, and explained our dilemma, wondering what the sisters would say. Without hesitation, they gave us their converter and wished us well. Brother Chavez soon returned, and we held our meeting.
To thank the nuns, Elder Hinkins and I made cookies for them. Shortly after we delivered the cookies, the nuns surprised us by inviting us to dinner.
We accepted.
A few days later, Elder Hinkins and I sat down for dinner at a beautifully set table surrounded by seven nuns. Five were from Canada, one was from the United States, and one was from Guatemala City.
During dinner we told them about the restored Church and our work as full-time missionaries. Then we gave them a Book of Mormon and bore our testimony of it. They thanked us and complimented us on our efforts to bring people to Christ.
In turn, they described some of the different "orders" of nuns. Then they told us about their labors and adjustment to living in the highlands.
With new eyes, I saw the nuns as kindred spirits with common goals, desires, and challenges. They were serving others, sacrificing for their faith, and dedicating their lives to God.
And our dinner? It was the best meal I had that year—shared by our friends, sisters from the Catholic Church.