Gospel Story Finder

One day a stranger came to our door. She introduced herself as Barbara and told us that she was looking for household work so that she could pay her power bill. My mother invited her in and listened to her. Mother told her that we didn’t have much money but that we would share what we had. Mother asked if she would clean a window to earn some money. While she was cleaning, we talked to her and found out that she had three young children and no job and had just recently moved from another city.
As she cleaned the window, we felt impressed that she needed some clothes, toys, and food for her children. My little sister, my mother, and I began preparing a box for her to take home. I put some of my toys in the box for the children. I wanted to give something more, so I decided to give her the money that I had been saving for a toy that I really wanted, money I had earned by working at my Grandpa Brown’s house.
I also wanted to share the gospel with her. I knew it would help her. It is so important to my life, and I knew it could help her family, too. I gave her a copy of the Book of Mormon and explained that we belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I bore my testimony. I taught her the plan of salvation, using a chart that I had. She listened and took the Book of Mormon.
After some lunch, Barbara left. My mother read Matthew 25:34–40 to my little sister and me and told us that when we helped Barbara, it was as if we had done those things to the Savior. I felt the Spirit, and I knew that I had done something that Jesus would have done for another.

As a young missionary serving in France, I wanted to know for myself that the Book of Mormon was true. I believed it was true. I hoped it was true. I had even gone on a mission with faith that it was true. However, as I worked day after day as a missionary and told people the best I could in my limited French that I had a testimony of the book, I still did not actually know for myself.
Our little apartment in southern France was cold and damp throughout that first winter. Every morning and evening, before and after the work of the day, I would huddle with a blanket and an overcoat to read and study my Book of Mormon. I knew of the promise of Moroni, that if I were to read, ponder, and pray, I too could know. For days and weeks I read, but nothing happened. No light, no angel, no voice—nothing except a feeling of peace as I read.
I continued to read and underline meaningful passages and pray to know that the Book of Mormon was true. The miracle eventually came. As Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has described, it was more like the rising of the sun than the sudden turning on of a light switch.4 A light began to illuminate my mind and my heart. I began to see the Book of Mormon in a different way. Passages that I had read before began to mean something new. The best way I can describe the experience was that my mind began to be enlightened.
Over a period of weeks and months, I can say that I came to know more surely than anything I had ever known that the Book of Mormon was the word of God. I came to know that it was written and preserved for our day and was brought forth as a powerful witness of Jesus Christ and His Church. The impression that came to me again and again through the voice of the Spirit was, “It’s true, it’s true, it’s all true.”
Forty years later, that same witness continues with me. I have now read the Book of Mormon many times, and each time—every time—I again hear the words “It’s true.” This has given me the assurance that Jesus Christ is my Savior and that this is His great work of salvation.

Ladean felt confident as she sat on the piano bench in the Primary room. Her soft blond hair was tied back with a big bow that matched her dress. It seemed like only yesterday that Sister Hayes, the Primary chorister, had asked Ladean to accompany them during an opening song. Ladean had chosen one of her favorite Primary songs, even though it was fairly difficult to play. She had practiced it over and over again for three weeks.
Now the big moment was here. Sister Hayes stood up to lead the opening song and nodded to Ladean to begin. The introduction went fine, but when the Primary children joined in, Ladean’s confidence crumbled. Her heart began to pound louder and louder with every beat. Her hands began to tremble, her fingers stumbled on the keys, and her face blushed with embarrassment. Then she lost her place in the music. The children continued to sing as she frantically tried to reenter the song. But her fingers quivered so much that she could not control them, and before she knew it, the song was over. Tears welled up in Ladean’s eyes as she pushed herself away from the piano and sat down with the other children.
“I’d like to thank Ladean for accompanying us today,” said Sister Hayes. “She worked very hard on this song, and I would like her to help us with it again next week.”
Sister Hayes’s words sounded a fire alarm in Ladean’s mind: Next week? Not me! Never, neveragain. Oh I wish I could just disappear. I don’t want to ever play in front of anyoneagain!
At the end of Primary closing exercises, Sister Hayes quickly grabbed Ladean’s hand and pulled her toward the piano. “Quick, come up and play while the children leave,” she whispered.
Before Ladean could answer, she was staring at the piano keys. Once again her heart began to pound and her fingers trembled, but as she played, her confidence returned. This is right, she thought. I’m playing exactly like I practiced.
Sister Hayes smiled at Ladean. “See—I knew that you could do it.”
Ladean closed the songbook and shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I know this song. Why did I get so nervous? Something was different, but what?”
Sister Hayes put her arm around Ladean. “You’ll get it. Just try it again next Sunday.”
That evening Ladean sat at her piano, mumbling. “Now, the first time I played the song was with the Primary singing. And the second time I was playing alone. That’s it! That’s the difference—I’ve never practiced with singers. That’s why I got so nervous when the children joined in. I need some singers!”
She asked her mother for help. “Mom, will you sing this song while I practice?”
“Who, me? You know that I always sing off-key,” Mom laughed. “Can your father and brothers help out too? Maybe they’ll sing loudly enough to cover up my squeaking.”
“Great!”
Soon the whole family was gathered around the piano. Ladean’s brothers tried to outsing each other, and her father’s booming voice sounded like a bass drum. They all laughed and sang the song over and over until Ladean did not stumble or lose her place at all.
Throughout the following week, whenever Ladean practiced, she could hear her family humming from the other rooms in the house. Pretty soon her brothers would walk in and start singing aloud. Then her mom and dad would join in as well.
That next Sunday, Ladean once again sat at the piano in the Primary room. Sister Hayes nodded at her to begin the introduction. When the children started singing, Ladean smiled as she played. She thought of her family and all the wonderful, happy hours they had shared together, and she played the song through without one mistake.

Thank you for printing the March 1995 Mormonad about the Word of Wisdom. About a week before I received my issue, I had decided to start smoking clove cigarettes. I didn’t know much about clove cigarettes, and I had heard they were safe and had no nicotine or tobacco. I was tempted to smoke regular cigarettes, but decided not to. As I opened my issue of the New Era, I flipped right to the Mormonad. My heart literally skipped a beat. I felt that Heavenly Father had sent this message especially for me.
Name WithheldBellevue, Washington

Levi didn’t have his mind on Primary that Sunday. He was still angry with his older brother, Jason.
Jason had just gotten his driver’s license. Last week, he had run over Levi’s bike, even though Levi had carefully parked it at the side of the garage. Levi had saved his own money to buy the bike. It had taken a long time.
“I’m really sorry. I’ll fix it up just like new,” Jason promised.
Levi looked at the crumpled fender. “It won’t be the same.”
Jason apologized again, but Levi refused to listen. “If you weren’t such a crummy driver, you wouldn’t have wrecked my bike.”
“I told you I’d fix the bike.” Jason didn’t sound so sorry now.
Levi stomped off, locking himself in his room for the rest of the afternoon and coming out only when Mom insisted he join the family for dinner.
That was last Wednesday. Levi had held onto his grudge for four days. It bothered him, being angry at Jason. Still, he didn’t feel like forgiving his brother.
After opening exercises and singing time, Sister McClure, the second counselor in the Primary presidency, presented Sharing Time to the older children. Starting with Levi’s class, she passed around a small paper cup. “Take one and pass it on,” she said.
Levi reached inside the cup and found it filled with pebbles.
“Put a pebble into your shoe,” she said. “Now try walking in place.”
Levi lifted up his foot and brought it down again. The little stone felt funny against his foot. He tried to move it to a more comfortable spot, but it kept rubbing against his foot.
“Now reverently walk around the room,” Sister McClure instructed.
Some of the children started giggling but stopped when Sister McClure reminded them to be reverent. A couple of the younger children started to limp and bent down to remove their stones.
Levi kept the pebble in his shoe. It began to feel a lot bigger as he walked.
After a few minutes, Sister McClure told the children to take their seats and remove the pebbles from their shoes. Once more, she passed around the paper cup and asked the children to put the pebbles inside.
Then she explained, “Those little pebbles are like the feelings we have when we don’t forgive someone who has offended us. They can start out small but then feel bigger and bigger.”
“What if the person who did something to hurt us isn’t really sorry?” Levi wanted to know.
“Sometimes we need to forgive, even when the other person doesn’t apologize or repent,” Sister McClure responded.
Sister McClure told a story about a time when the Prophet Joseph Smith forgave one of his friends who had betrayed him. Levi felt a lump in his throat as he listened to how the Prophet had forgiven William W. Phelps, even though Brother Phelps had conspired with the mobs who persecuted the Church and its leaders.
Levi thought about Sister McClure’s lesson during the rest of Primary. Following dinner that evening, when his parents asked family members what they had learned in church, Levi told them about the pebbles.
“How did your foot feel by the time you took the pebble out?” his dad asked.
“My foot was a little sore,” Levi admitted. “Sister McClure compared walking around with a pebble in your shoe to carrying a grudge and refusing to forgive someone who offended you.”
“It sounds like one of Mom’s object lessons,” his little sister, Annie, said.
Everyone laughed. The whole family knew that Mom liked to use objects in the lessons she gave for family home evening.
Before he went to bed, Levi knocked on Jason’s door. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk,” he said when Jason opened the door. “I know you didn’t mean to run over my bike.”
“Hey, I’m the one who’s sorry.” Jason pulled Levi into a bear hug and lifted him off the floor. “What do you say we work on the bike together tomorrow after school? I’ll ask Dad if we can use his tools.”
“Great!” Levi said, and as he went to his room, he thought, “I really do feel great!”

One day while I was having a heated online discussion about politics, my opinions were mocked because of the type of education I had received in college.
I enjoy a good debate, but the personal attack was unwarranted. The comments hurt because they appeared to call into question my personal worth. What made it worse was that the person who made the remarks was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
On reflection, however, I began to see that I too had made cheap personal comments in order to win an argument. I realized that this type of behavior was common in the society around me.
I came to learn that failing to recognize dignity in others can cause serious damage, especially in the Church. The prophet Alma preached powerfully against “envyings, and strife, and malice, and persecutions, and pride” in the Church (Alma 4:9). He saw that such behavior was “a great stumbling-block” to the progress of the Church (see Alma 4:10).
The encounter made me reflect on my worth in God’s eyes. Studying further, I found a quote by Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He taught that Heavenly Father “loves us because He is filled with an infinite measure of holy, pure, and indescribable love. We are important to God not because of our résumé but because we are His children.”1
I learned that God’s love for us does not depend on our schooling, employment, or ability to win a debate. God loves us purely, infinitely, and freely because He is our Father and we are His children.
Feeling God’s immense love dissolved my enmity. I realized that while it is OK to disagree with others, simply arguing with one another accomplishes nothing but hurt and damage.
If Jesus Christ was willing to lay down His life, I know that we can learn to lay down our pride, look past the vanity of the world, and value each other as God does. In His eyes, the way we treat each other says more about us than whether we win an online debate.

For many years, I have visited my mother’s home to help her with her housework. She is 80 years old and is a faithful member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
My mother has lived alone since my father passed away. Her greatest pleasure is visiting the home of each of her three children, spending time with them and her grandchildren, and cooking food that warms the soul.
Every time I visited my mother’s house to clean it and make sure everything was in order, I found an old cushion on the floor. Over and over I would pick it up and place it on an armchair, complaining to myself about my mother’s carelessness.
The next time I would return to visit and help my mother, I would again find the cushion on the floor. I never said anything to my mother about the cushion, but one morning I finally figured out why it was always on the floor.
My mother needed a soft surface on which to kneel and pray. She was an old woman, but her unshakable faith led her to her knees in prayer every day. She would pray for her children and grandchildren. She would pray for her friends. She would pray for those most in need. And she would pray for those she had always loved and, even in her old age, still generously cared for.
Today, I no longer complain to myself when I see the cushion on the floor. At times, I even kneel on its soft surface to pray to Heavenly Father, expressing gratitude for my mother’s faith and example.

A few years ago I received the assignment to reorganize the Carey Idaho Stake. The plane landed at Twin Falls, and President Roy Hubert, who had served so well, met me there and drove me to his home. While we were driving, I asked him, “Is there anything I can do for you and your Saints?”
He said: “Oh, we have had a terrible drought for the last few years. This year it is particularly severe, and many farmers have left town to find employment elsewhere.”
I was so disturbed for our faithful members who love the Lord and the Church yet were losing their farms.
A young bishop, R. Spence Ellsworth, was called to serve as the new stake president. During the Sunday general session, results of the drought weighed heavily on my mind. As I was speaking, a strong prompting came. I asked them to do the following:
Faithfully pay an honest tithe, both young and old.
Humbly hold regular individual and family prayers.
Devotedly have daily personal and family scripture study.
Thankfully keep the Sabbath day holy.
Gratefully go to the temple often, there offering thanksgiving.
Willingly sustain and follow the new leaders.
Hold a stakewide fast, including everyone in the affected communities who would like to participate.
For the next couple of days following the stake conference, many members planted their crops with complete faith, even though there was no forecast of rain.
On Wednesday, under the direction of President Ellsworth, the whole stake fasted. That same week many members, the leaders, and their spouses went to the Boise Idaho Temple and offered their thanksgiving. While these faithful Saints were in the temple, rain began to fall on the entire community, though the weather forecast indicated no moisture for the next few weeks. The following Saturday, good rain fell again and continued for a few days. This happened late in the month of April. Significant snow fell in the mountains, providing enough moisture. In the Dietrich and Richfield communities, their reservoir had been under 30 percent, but after the people fasted, the reservoir was nearly full. The Carey water supply increased from about 44 percent to more than 100 percent of normal. Through the rest of the growing season, as members of the Carey Stake increased their faith by fasting a few more times, paying honest tithes, and attending the temple more frequently, the Lord heard and answered their prayers. Frost came late that year, so the farmers were able to harvest grain, sugar beets, alfalfa, potatoes, and other crops. From that day, and each year since, they have offered their thanksgiving prayers, and “because of … his tender mercies,”7 the Lord continues to bless them.

Even President David O. McKay went through this mental process as a teenage boy. He has told us about kneeling by a serviceberry bush as a boy in Huntsville to find out once and for all about the truth of the work. May I quote President McKay as he tells of that occasion:
“I knelt down and with all the fervor of my heart poured out my soul to God and asked him for a testimony of this gospel. I had in mind that there would be some manifestation; that I should receive some transformation that would leave me absolutely without doubt.
“I got up, mounted my horse, and as he started over the trail, I remember rather introspectively searching myself and involuntarily shaking my head, saying to myself, ‘No sir, there is no change; I am just the same boy I was before I knelt down.’ The anticipated manifestation had not come. …
“However, it did come, but not in the way I had anticipated. Even the manifestation of God’s power and the presence of his angels came; but when it did come, it was simply a confirmation, it was not a testimony.” (Treasures of Life, [Deseret Book Co., 1962], pp. 229–30.)

World leaders are recognizing the need to learn more about the Church as they become aware of the presence of a growing religion in their area or notice the good works the Church is doing through its humanitarian arm. Two leaders recently made separate visits to Salt Lake City to tour Temple Square and learn more about the Church.
Chile’s First Lady
Chile’s first lady, Luisa Durán de Lagos, visited Salt Lake City on September 21, 2004, to personally thank the Church for the many humanitarian efforts taking place in her country.
Mrs. Durán de Lagos met and talked with the First Presidency before touring the Humanitarian Center. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles gave the tour, ending it with the presentation of a gift: 600 computers donated by Brigham Young University to be used by schoolchildren in Chile.
“I came here because I wanted to personally thank the Church for what it has given us,” she said. “We have received from the [Church] assistance with ‘Chile Solidario,’ a program designed to help Chile’s poorest families arise from poverty.”

When I was a boy, I looked forward to passing the sacrament to the ward members. We deacons were trained as to our duties. One of the men in our ward, Louis, suffered from palsy. His head and hands shook so violently that he could not, by himself, partake of the sacrament. Each deacon knew that his duty in serving Louis was to hold the bread to his lips so that he might partake and to similarly place the cup of water to his mouth with one hand, while steadying his head with the other, the tray being held by another deacon while doing so. Always Louis would say, “Thank you.”

It was Christmastime, and I was 17 years old. My parents had divorced, and I had many stresses that I was trying to deal with. Each day it seemed harder to deal with the simple tasks of everyday life. At this time, when hope seemed lost, I found myself at the seminary building. I explained my frustrations to my Father in Heaven on my knees in an empty classroom.
As I spoke to my Heavenly Father in tears, I felt impressed to thank Him for the beauty of the day and even for the struggles I was facing. I also talked with a caring seminary teacher and asked for a priesthood blessing from my bishop. I began to study the scriptures more thoroughly and read other good literature by our modern-day prophets.
Finally, as I was putting up a humble, two-foot-tall Christmas tree in my room, I placed on top of it a shining silver star that my mother had given me. As I placed it there, I looked and saw a Mormonad poster with a picture of the Savior that simply said, “Now There Is Hope.” I looked from the star and then back to the painting of the Savior. It suddenly made sense to me. Because of what happened on that first Christmas, because of my Savior and Redeemer, Jesus Christ, there was now hope.
I began thinking of all the gifts Heavenly Father had given me, and joy began to fill my heart. I was grateful and began thanking Him for my trials. I began to view my struggles as gifts given to me to strengthen me, and I thanked Heavenly Father for trusting me enough to give me these trials to overcome.
As I listened to the song “Joy to the World,” I let my mind dwell upon the line “Let earth receive her King!” (Hymns, no. 201).
I finally started to understand and receive in my heart the gift of Jesus Christ, the Savior, who paid the ultimate price. This is the gift I received that Christmas.

PUSH (People United for Self Help) found the LDS young people in the Phoenix area were really pulling for them when they donated a 35-horse power tractor.
The youth conducted an “Operation Identification” in which they etched a homeowner’s license number on all valuable items and personal possessions to raise money for the cause. They also held car washes, and served breakfasts and dinners to raise funds.
Through the youths’ help approximately 100 disabled, low-income workers and their families will be markedly more productive on their five-acre vegetable tract. For two years the members of PUSH together with their wives and children have dug, cultivated, planted, and weeded the land. Their work will be much more efficient through the use of the tractor.
Other money-raising activities of the young church members were Slave Auctions, in which services were bid for at random, and meals, which ranged from pancakes to spaghetti.
The project was one of several suggested by city officials when approached by the Phoenix youth as to suggestions for community service projects. The challenge to raise the tractor funds came from the five stake presidents in the area.

Molly woke up early. It was a special day because Molly had something very important to tell Daddy.
Molly climbed up onto her chair for breakfast and smiled. She wanted to tell Daddy her special secret right away, but Mommy and Daddy were talking. So Molly ate her cereal instead.
Molly helped Daddy fix the car. She handed Daddy wrenches and screwdrivers and kept him company. It was a good time to tell Daddy her special secret.
“Daddy?” Molly began.
“Yes, Molly?” Daddy said. But when Daddy sat up, he hit his head and grumbled. So Molly just smiled and gave him another wrench.
After lunch Daddy and Mommy washed dishes. Molly colored in a coloring book. She colored an elephant purple, a lion green, and then paused. “Daddy?” Molly tried again.
But just then, Brring! Brring!
“Wait a minute, Molly,” Daddy said as he went to answer the phone.
Daddy talked a long time, and Molly colored another page in her book. This time she colored an alligator orange.
Daddy and Molly drove to the store that afternoon. Molly watched the trees and houses whiz past. The sun shining through the window made Molly feel warm. Surely now was a good time to tell Daddy.
“Daddy?” Molly said as they arrived at the store.
“Yes?” Daddy replied, opening Molly’s door.
“Daddy, I—” but Molly stopped talking to watch a beautiful black and yellow butterfly flutter past her.
“That’s a swallowtail butterfly, Molly,” Daddy told her. They held hands as they walked into the store, but Molly kept turning around, trying to see the butterfly again. She forgot to tell Daddy her special secret.
Molly played with her racing cars after dinner. Vroom! Vroom! But her racing cars didn’t go as fast as they usually did. Molly sighed. A whole day had gone by, and she still hadn’t told Daddy her special secret. Molly looked up at Daddy sitting on the couch. “Daddy?”
“Yes, Molly?” Daddy put his newspaper down and sat on the floor with her.
Molly grinned. Finally it was time to tell Daddy her special secret.
“I love you, Daddy.”
Daddy hugged Molly for a long time. “I love you, too, Molly,” he said.
Daddy played racing cars with Molly until bedtime. And now the racing cars went very fast.

One day at snack time in preschool, my best friend, Roger,* said that if I ate my peanut-butter sandwich, he wouldn’t be my friend anymore. Roger doesn’t like peanut butter, but I love it. It looked so good—I had to eat it. I went home kind of sad because Roger said he wouldn’t be my friend anymore. Mom said that he would probably forget about it by the next day, and he did.
Another day, when our teacher told us to pick up our toys, Roger wouldn’t do it. He told me that if I did, he wouldn’t be my friend anymore. It was hard for me to choose the right. Our teacher told Mom that she thought that Roger was influencing me in bad ways. They decided that if it kept on happening, I wouldn’t be allowed to be with Roger anymore.
Mom told me that when Roger wants me to do something that I know is wrong, I should tell him that if he keeps making bad choices, I won’t be able to be his friend. Then I was to walk away. She thought this might encourage Roger to choose the right. We had so much fun together—I didn’t want to lose him as a friend.
That night for family home evening, Mom pretended to be Roger, my sister pretended to be another friend, and I was myself. I practiced saying, “If you keep making bad choices, then I can’t be your friend.” That week we said extra prayers that Heavenly Father would help both of us choose the right.
It was very hard to tell Roger that I couldn’t be his friend. And things didn’t turn out the way we hoped they would right away. But after I said it a few times, Roger started to choose the right! Our teacher told Mom that she was surprised at the change in him. I learned that it may not be easy to choose the right, but it’s what Heavenly Father wants us to do. And if we ask Him, He will help us.
Nicholas Colon, age 5Kokomo, Indiana

As a single parent, my mother had many things to do, but she always took time to help me, comfort me, or simply listen to me. Knowing that she was always there was invaluable, and I want to give that to my own children in the future.
When my mother remarried, her new husband chose to become the father of my older brother and me. Soon afterward, a little sister joined our family, but I have never felt the slightest difference in the affectionate and loving way he has taken care of us all as his own. Thanks to his attitude, my older brother and I have been able to grow up in a strong and unified family with the priesthood in the home. The day we were sealed as a family was very special. His loving example has taught me that a father isn’t just something you are—it’s something you become.

Out of power. My mind floated back to a precalculus class the past spring. We’d been studying trigonometry. Normally I was a straight-A student, and most of the class had been a breeze. But the endless ribbons of sine and cosine graphs had tied themselves into a granny knot in my mind. On the pretest, I’d flopped. I’d forgotten my calculator, and the teacher had none to share.
Then came the day of the real test. Calculator firmly in hand, I dug in. Question one … all right, not too bad. Question two … a few swift strokes and my graph faithfully produced the answer. Question three. Question four.
Question five … I needed a graph for question five. I punched in the equation and pressed “enter” on my calculator. Suddenly the screen went blank. Frantically, I pressed the “on” key. Once again … again.
Like a paramedic trying to elicit a response from a victim of cardiac arrest, I pounded on the button. The screen darkened briefly, as if struggling for a breath, but still nothing. I flipped the calculator over and moved the batteries around, knowing full well they were dead. Still nothing. I waited a few seconds then tried everything again. With a sigh I finally set my calculator down. It was out of power.
The test before me was more than half incomplete. I tried a few questions, mostly guessing, and started to feel the cold tingle of panic. My eyes fixed on the hummingbird wings of the clock. “Please slow down, please,” I wanted to say. Helplessly I looked outside, wondering what it felt like to fail a test.
Then it hit me. I knew what I hadn’t done. Surreptitiously, I scanned the room, then bowed my head. “Dear Heavenly Father, I thank thee for all my many blessings, and I’m grateful for all I have. I know this is just a math test and not really important in the big picture, but it’s important to me, and I need help …” I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it was one of the most earnest prayers I have ever offered.
I looked up. Trembling, I pulled the calculator close. Now what? Nervously, I fingered the keys. What if it still didn’t work? What if I didn’t have enough faith? What if there was nothing to have faith in? A nebula of doubts clouded my head. No. I traced the “enter” key with my finger. No. Simultaneously I both pushed away the whispers in my head and pushed the square designated “on.”
The display blinked to life. Fighting back the urges to either yell or cry, I covered my mouth. I would make it through the rest of the test.

The Second Coming, by Harry Anderson
I came to the temple one day with a question on my heart: “Heavenly Father, how am I doing in the gospel?”
My shortcomings had felt especially prevalent that week. Like Nephi, I felt burdened by the sins that so easily beset me. But, also like Nephi, I knew in whom I had trusted. (See 2 Nephi 4:18–19.) I hoped spending time with the Lord in His house that morning would help close the distance I was feeling.
I listened carefully through the endowment session and felt grateful for the strength and knowledge it offered me. But as I entered the celestial room, my heart still felt heavy. How could I know where I stood with the Lord?
I sat and pondered for a few minutes and then, feeling resigned, began to stand up. But something pulled me back down, sinking me deeper into the couch. “I don’t want to leave,” I thought.
I looked around the room and saw a familiar painting of Jesus Christ surrounded by angels, with His arms opened toward me. The words of a favorite scripture came to my mind: “My soul did long to be there” (see Alma 36:22).
I have often pondered the significance of that verse in Alma’s story. Previously, because of his sins, the thought of standing before God filled Alma with “inexpressible horror” (Alma 36:14). But after turning to Christ, he saw God surrounded by angels, and his “soul did long to be there.” This scriptural contrast has always struck me as beautiful. Alma’s small effort to look to the Lord had a huge effect on his heart.
I realized I didn’t feel ready to leave the celestial room because, like Alma, my soul longed to be there—both in the temple that day and ultimately with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ in my heavenly home. The Holy Ghost used my favorite scripture story to tell me God knew my heart. I was reminded that despite my shortcomings, the Lord accepted my efforts to be close to Him. He knew I longed to be there.

Ruben Gapiz and Nenita Reyes were among the earliest Filipinos to join the Church. Nenita, who was baptized on 25 November 1961, was the fifth person to join the Church after missionary work began. She was a college graduate when her brother-in-law sent the missionaries to her home. Her response and the response of several family members was immediate and positive. Nenita was soon called to lead the music for the growing group of members in the Manila area. She has since served in the presidencies of the Young Women, Relief Society, and Primary.
Ruben Gapiz was interested in Nenita before he was interested in the Church. A talented guitar player, he was recruited to accompany Church members for an evening of Christmas caroling. Disappointed that he was not offered payment for his services, he was about to leave when he saw Nenita leading the singing. He stayed, eventually listened to the missionary discussions, and was baptized a year after Nenita.
Two years later, Ruben and Nenita became the first Filipino Latter-day Saint couple to marry. Almost everyone in the branch attended the ceremony and the celebration afterward. The Gapiz family was eventually blessed with four daughters.
Ruben accepted a number of callings in the Church, but he served with less eagerness than Sister Gapiz, although his testimony continued to grow. In 1975, however, Nenita says “the Lord tapped him on the shoulders and woke him up.” Ruben was diagnosed with cancer of the nasopharynx. He was not expected to live more than a few years. Nenita and Ruben’s oldest child was only 10 years old when the cancer was discovered; Ruben wanted badly to live and raise his family.
“In August 1978,” he recalls, “I received my patriarchal blessing from Patriarch F. Briton McConkie. My wife was in the room with me. … [The patriarch] did not have any prior knowledge of my affliction. Toward the end of the blessing he pronounced these words, which brought tears to my eyes and caused my wife to sob softly: ‘You will live your life to the fullest and will be called to serve in many leadership positions.’
“After the blessing was over, [the] patriarch … asked me the reason for my tears. I told him that I had been diagnosed with cancer, that I had only two years to live, and that the blessing he pronounced was almost too good to hope for. … I knew that day that the Lord had answered my prayers.”4
The blessing awakened his dedication to the gospel. “He became a different man after that,” Sister Gapiz says.
He has since worked tirelessly to strengthen the Church in the Philippines. Through the years he has served as bishop, stake president, mission president, and regional representative. He also served as chair of the committee that translated the Book of Mormon into Tagalog, the predominant native language. He currently serves as an Area Authority Seventy and Materials Management manager in the Philippines/Micronesia Area.

One Sunday I was at church. My mum told me that it was fast and testimony meeting. I felt something inside me pushing me to tell my testimony. I was really nervous, but I went up anyway and talked about how excited I am to be baptized soon. After I talked, I felt good inside. A few minutes later, I felt my tooth wobble. I thought it was going to come out, so I told my mum and went to the bathroom. When we came back, my tooth was out. I told everyone it was my “testimony tooth”! Now when I look at the space where my tooth was, it reminds me of my testimony.
Annabelle R., age 7, Scotland