Gospel Story Finder

A few years ago, I was one of a few Church members in my grade. People thought I was weird because I was dedicated to living all of the standards of the Church. So one day I decided that I could compromise my standards a little bit. When I did, I noticed that I had more attention from others. But after just a few weeks, I felt guilty and turned to the Lord for repentance. He did help me, and I had to make a lot of sacrifices, but it was worth it! I truly got to see the blessings of living the gospel at school. I did lose friends and attention, but I gained respect and happiness.
Sutton K., 15, Texas, USA

When Wilford Woodruff was a boy, he went fishing as often as he could.
Wilford: Hey Azmon, look at this! Two fish on one hook!
Azmon: Wow, Wilford! They must really like those bird-feather flies you’ve been making.
He and his brother Azmon were known as the best fishermen in Farmington, Connecticut.
Wilford also had a secret island in the middle of his fishing stream. When his father didn’t need help at the flour mill or the saw mill, Wilford went to his island to think.
He wondered about God and religion and what Heavenly Father wanted him to do.
Years later, when Wilford Woodruff heard the missionaries explain that prophets and apostles were again on the earth, he was filled with joy. Wilford joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Soon after, the Prophet Joseph Smith called him to be an Apostle and to serve a mission to England with the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
In England, Elder Woodruff learned that a large group of people called the United Brethren had gathered to worship and to ask God for more knowledge of truth.
Elder Woodruff: John, this is inspired! The Lord sent me to Hereford to teach these people.
Elder Woodruff’s success with the United Brethren was even more astounding than his boyhood success with fishing. In two days he baptized six hundred people!
Constable: I have been ordered to arrest you, Elder Woodruff, for preaching to the people.
Elder Woodruff: But I have a license to preach the gospel, sir. If you will sit in this chair until the meeting is over, we will talk about this misunderstanding and get it settled.
By the end of the meeting, there was nothing left to settle.
Constable: I, too, wish to be baptized, Elder Woodruff.
Four ministers: So do we.
Elder Woodruff returned home and crossed the plains with Brigham Young, often providing food for the travelers with the new fishing rod he had brought from England.
And even when he was the prophet, President Wilford Woodruff could sometimes be found in a boat, happily fishing.
If you’d like to learn more about President Woodruff, do the “President Wilford Woodruff Crossword” on page 41.

My name is Claudio Lico Villa, I have been a member of the Church for 11 years and belong to the Consuelo Branch, San Pedro Dominican Republic District.
I was born in 1982 in the province of Seibo, Dominican Republic. When I was three months old, my parents gave me to my grandmother to raise. At eight years old we left Seibo, and I was not able to finish school there. A few years later with very limited means I began working because of a need and a desire to be independent. Although this was long before I would join the Church, the self-reliance principles were ingrained in my heart.
“The Lord has declared, ‘It is my purpose to provide for my saints’. This revelation is a promise from the Lord that He will provide temporal blessings and open the door of self-reliance, which is the ability for us to provide the necessities of life for ourselves and our family members”.
I knew I wanted to be independent and could be. I had to work. At the age of 14, I started working in a mill to be able to support myself and to help my grandmother who gave me all the love in the world. I finished high school and started my first business, looking for any items I could find to sell on the street in my neighborhood. Eventually I was able to sell dishes and tableware. A few years later, after working with a friend in his hair salon, I started my own hair salon.
At the age of twenty-seven, I was diagnosed with eye cancer. When I thought all was lost and without any purpose in living, two missionaries came to my home. I had always been God-fearing, so I listened to the lessons. I struggled to make up my mind, but after three months I was baptized. My life with this disease has not been easy. I walk with my cane everywhere. I continue with medication and treatment. I have remained true to what I have come to know as the Lord’s self-reliance principles. I support myself with a business selling sheets and household items, plus help from the government and the generous members of our Church.
I can say today that my strength comes from the knowledge I have of Jesus Christ. I thank those missionaries who came to me. The Church is my family. I invite everyone to know Jesus Christ who brings hope and love to our lives.

The building of this structure has been a bold undertaking. We worried about it. We prayed about it. We listened for the whisperings of the Spirit concerning it. And only when we felt the confirming voice of the Lord did we determine to go forward.
At the general conference of April 1996, I said: “I regret that many who wish to meet with us in the Tabernacle this morning are unable to get in. There are very many out on the grounds. This unique and remarkable hall, built by our pioneer forebears and dedicated to the worship of the Lord, comfortably seats about 6,000. Some of you seated on those hard benches for two hours may question the word comfortably.
“My heart reaches out to those who wish[ed] to get in and could not be accommodated. About a year ago I suggested to the Brethren that perhaps the time has come when we should study the feasibility of constructing another dedicated house of worship on a much larger scale that would accommodate three or four times the number who can be seated in this building” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1996, 88–89; or Ensign, May 1996, 65).
The vision of a new hall was clearly in mind. Various architectural schemes were studied. One was finally selected. It included a massive structure to seat 21,000 with a theater accommodating another thousand. There would be no interior pillars to obstruct the view of the speaker. There would be trees and running water on the roof.
Ground was broken July 24, 1997, the 150th anniversary of the arrival of the first pioneers in this valley. That was an historic event.
We did not know it at the time, but in 1853 Brigham Young, in speaking of temples, said, “The time will come when … we shall build … on the top, groves and fish ponds” (Deseret News Weekly, 30 Apr. 1853, 46).
In 1924 Elder James E. Talmage of the Council of the Twelve wrote, “I have long seen the possible erection of a great pavilion on the north side of the Tabernacle, seating perhaps twenty thousand people or even double that number, with amplifiers capable of making all hear the addresses given from the Tabernacle stands, and in addition to this a connection with the broadcasting system, with receivers in the several chapels or other meeting houses throughout the intermountain region” (journal of James E. Talmage, 29 Aug. 1924, Special Collections and Manuscripts, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah).
In 1940 the First Presidency and the Twelve had their architect draw up a plan of a building that would seat 19,000 and would stand where this building stands. That was 60 years ago. They thought about it, they talked about it, but finally they dropped the idea entirely.
These statements and actions were wonderfully prophetic. We knew nothing about them. All of them have come to our attention since we began this construction.
We have not built a temple with trees and fishponds on the roof. But on this edifice we have many trees and running water. Brigham Young may have foreseen this structure very near the temple. We have what Brother Talmage thought of, and much, much more. These services will not only be heard by all who are seated in the Conference Center, they will be carried by radio, television, and cable, and they will be transmitted by satellite to Europe, to Mexico, to South America. We reach far beyond the intermountain area of which Brother Talmage spoke. We reach beyond the confines of the United States and Canada. We essentially reach across the world.
This is truly a magnificent building. I know of no other comparable structure built primarily as a hall of worship that is so large and that will seat so many. It is beautiful in its design, in its appointments, and in its wonderful utility. It is built of reinforced concrete to the highest seismic codes required in this area. The concrete is faced with granite taken from the same quarry as was the stone for the temple. Both buildings even carry the blemishes of that granite.
The interior is beautiful and wonderfully impressive. It is huge, and it is constructed in such a way that nothing obstructs the view of the speaker. The carpets, the marble floors, the decorated walls, the handsome hardware, the wonderful wood all bespeak utility, with a touch of elegance.
It will prove to be a great addition to this city. Not only will our general conferences be held here, and some other religious meetings, but it will serve as a cultural center for the very best artistic presentations. We hope that those not of our faith will come here, experience the ambience of this beautiful place, and feel grateful for its presence. We thank all who have worked so hard to bring it to this stage—the architects, with whom we have had many meetings; the general contractors, three of whom have worked together; the subcontractors; and the hundreds of craftsmen who have labored here; the construction supervisor; the city building inspectors; and everyone who has had a hand in this project. They have all joined in a herculean effort so that we might meet together this morning. Many of them are with us, I am happy to say.
And now, my brothers and sisters, I would like to tell you about another feature of this wonderful building. If I get a little personal and even a little sentimental, I hope you will forgive me.
I love trees. When I was a boy we lived on a farm in the summer, a fruit farm. Every year at this season we planted trees. I think I have never missed a spring since I was married, except for two or three years when we were absent from the city, that I have not planted trees, at least one or two—fruit trees, shade trees, ornamental trees, and spruce, fir, and pine among the conifers. I love trees.
Well, some 36 years ago I planted a black walnut. It was in a crowded area where it grew straight and tall to get the sunlight. A year ago, for some reason it died. But walnut is a precious furniture wood. I called Brother Ben Banks of the Seventy, who, before giving his full time to the Church, was in the business of hardwood lumber. He brought his two sons, one a bishop and the other recently released as a bishop and who now run the business, to look at the tree. From all they could tell it was solid, good, and beautiful wood. One of them suggested that it would make a pulpit for this hall. The idea excited me. The tree was cut down and then cut into two heavy logs. Then followed the long process of drying, first naturally and then kiln drying. The logs were cut into boards at a sawmill in Salem, Utah. The boards were then taken to Fetzer’s woodworking plant, where expert craftsmen designed and built this magnificent pulpit with that wood.
The end product is beautiful. I wish all of you could examine it closely. It represents superb workmanship, and here I am speaking to you from the tree I grew in my backyard, where my children played and also grew.
It is an emotional thing for me. I have planted another black walnut or two. I will be long gone before they mature. When that day comes and this beautiful pulpit has grown old, perhaps one of them will do to make a replacement. To Elder Banks and his sons, Ben and Bradley, and to the skilled workers who have designed and built this, I offer my profound thanks for making it possible to have a small touch of mine in this great hall where the voices of prophets will go out to all the world in testimony of the Redeemer of mankind.
And so to all who have made this sacred edifice possible, and to all of you who are here assembled on this historic occasion, I express gratitude and appreciation, my love and my thanks for this day and this sacred and beautiful house of worship, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I’m not good at basketball. But for some reason, my friends still invited me to play. During one game, I hoped the ball would never come to me. Well, it did, and I decided to take a shot. As the ball flew toward the basket, I was sure it would miss. The ball hit the backboard and then fell through the hoop.
I made the shot!
My friends cheered as I stood in disbelief. I didn’t contribute much else to that game, but it felt good to be part of a team and to participate in my own small way.

My father died of cancer when I was 4 years old. I grew up wondering why he had to die. I questioned God and asked why life was so unfair. Ten years later, when I was 14, I met the missionaries. As they taught us, my mother felt that they were teaching the truth and that we should listen. When we joined the Church, the gospel of Jesus Christ and an understanding of the plan of salvation came into my life at a time when I really needed it.
Later, when I was sealed to my parents in the temple, my mother whispered to me, “I feel your father’s presence.” As I thought about the blessings of being sealed, I knew that the Lord was aware of our family and that He had been with us often, even when we were unaware.

This stone plaque with the photo and narrative of the life of Charles Callis, sits in St Audoen’s park near the centre of Dublin. Elder Callis is the only person born in the Emerald Isle to become a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in this dispensation. His service in the apostleship lasted from 1933 until his death in 1947.
The plaque tells of some of the events of his early life. The second child of John Callis and Susannah Charlotte Quilliam. At the death of his Father, and while Charles was still a small boy, his mother moved the family to Liverpool, where they became Latter-day Saints. In 1875, the family emigrated and joined the main body of the Church in Utah.
The plaque goes on to describe Charles Callis’ “distinguished professional life, practising law and serving in several political positions, including… city councilman and county attorney in Coalville, Utah.”
However, his formal working life began in the coal mines at age 16, and his later success was due to the determined course of self-education undertaken in his spare time, focusing particularly on the law.
From 1893 he served for two years in the British Mission, spending most of his time as president of the Irish Conference. In 1902 he married Grace Pack, and four years later she accompanied him when he was called to serve in the southern United States. He would serve as mission president there for twenty-five years. The Church was still very unpopular in the southern states at the time, but through his eloquence and knowledge of the law, Callis was able to win great respect for the Church in that region.
Charles Callis testified: “From my earliest recollections to the present time I have always had an abiding and intense love for my Savior. I cannot read the story of His sufferings and crucifixion without shedding tears.”
The memorial plaque in Dublin was dedicated by Elder Neal A. Maxwell in 1989.

During the spring, my husband and I attended our four-year-old grandson’s soccer game. Excitement was in the air as children ran in every direction chasing the ball. When the final whistle blew, the players didn’t know who won or who lost. They had simply played the game.
The coaches asked the players to shake hands with the other team. Then we saw something quite remarkable. One coach called for a victory tunnel.
Parents, grandparents, and anybody who came to see the game stood up and formed two lines facing each other. Then they raised their arms and created an arch. The children squealed as they ran under the arms of the cheering adults and down the path.
Soon the children from the other team decided to join in the fun. All of the players were cheered on by the adults as they ran through the victory tunnel.
In my mind I could see another picture. I had the feeling I was seeing these children living the plan Heavenly Father created for every child. They were running on the strait and narrow path, under the arms of the people who loved them. Each child felt the joy of being on the path.
Jesus Christ has “marked the path and led the way” for each of us.* If we follow His lead, we will all return to our heavenly home and be safe in Heavenly Father’s arms.

When I was 14, I was called to be a family history youth consultant. My family history class during Sunday School inspired me to find my great-grandfather’s parents on my mom’s side.
Every Sunday I did a little more work, going through records and searching for connections to my great-great-grandfather, William Aldred Thomas. But after a year with no results, I felt discouraged. I wanted to give up. But then one afternoon, I felt a distinct prompting to search for Francina Christina Meyer, his wife.
Several records came up that confirmed a connection to my great-great-grandparents. I was so happy—I had finally found my family! My home was full of indescribable joy. More names connected to the Thomas line were found, and my brother and I have been baptized and confirmed for five generations of that line—all because of perseverance and a single, special prompting!
This experience has been a tremendous blessing and testimony to me of the importance of family history work. I know that our family members on the other side will help us find them and that this work truly brings light into our lives.
Savannah B., Alberta, Canada

If you want your influence to extend beyond the circle of your friends, you may want to prepare a Book of Mormon and then give it to the missionaries to be used wherever it can do the most good. If you wish, you can include a photo of your entire family and make it a family project. The John R. Poulton family of Salt Lake City, Utah, treasures several letters from people who have received the Book of Mormon from them in this way through the missionaries.
Lawrence C. Alamargo of the Philippines wrote to the family: “We received the Book of Mormon you sent, and we have read it already. It inspired the whole family. The Book of Mormon was handed to us by the elders who taught us the gospel of God. We were baptized December 25th, and the gift of the Holy Ghost was the most precious gift we ever received in our lives.”

Sometimes miracles have helped people perform family history work. One miracle took place in 1971, when heavy rains poured upon the island of Fiji for nearly a week and furious winds bent the palm trees almost double. Ocean waves mixed with rain washed onto the island, and rocks, branches, and even rooftops floated down the flooded streets.

Molimau Tupa’i, the Church microfilmer in Fiji, became worried about the microfilming supplies he had left in his office. As he entered the office building where he worked, he saw that the floor was covered with water. He felt upset as he approached his office, fearing the films, books, and maps he had left on the floor were ruined. To his surprise, although everything looked wet and damaged, the water was actually flowing away from his supplies on the floor! His office was the only one in the building that still had electricity. For days afterward, all regular work on the floor stopped while cleaning crews fixed things. Brother Tupa’i’s work, however, continued as usual.

When temple visits for my branch were announced, I attended. Even though I could not yet enter the temple, I often walked the temple grounds. I prayed to Heavenly Father expressing my deepest desires to one day enter the temple. Some of these visits were only 10 minutes, but they had a profound impact on my spirit.
On one particularly cold and rainy evening, I arrived at the temple late. Although the grounds were closed, temple security allowed me a few moments on the grounds. I had with me a copy of the temple’s dedicatory prayer. I was impressed to read it.
I was filled with emotions as I read the following words: “Wilt Thou whisper peace to Thy people by the power of Thy Spirit when they come here with burdened hearts to seek direction in their perplexities. Wilt Thou comfort and sustain them when they come in times of sorrow. Wilt Thou give them courage, direction, and faith, when they gather, as to a refuge, from the turmoil of the world. Wilt Thou reassure them of Thy reality and divinity, and of the reality and divinity of Thy resurrected Son.”1
I knew then that my visits to the temple grounds meant something to the Lord, even though I was not inside the temple.

As I filled out the papers for my mission, I felt very excited. I had great desires to serve. At the same time, however, I had another feeling—an undefinable one. It was a calm but unusual prompting. Not knowing what to make of it, I paid it little attention.
When I received the call to labor in my own country, in the Mexico Mérida Mission, I felt the approval of the Lord. That other prompting also returned, but this time I felt that I knew what it meant. I sensed somehow that when I returned from my mission, one of my loved ones might not be there. I felt that this prompting was from the Lord because I felt calm and had no fear.
My father, my mother, and my nephew Israel went with me to the Missionary Training Center. As we said goodbye, I gave my father a warm hug. As we embraced, I felt his love for me—and at that moment, I felt again the prompting I had felt before.
From the beginning of my mission, I felt the Lord’s love for me. And from time to time thereafter I continued to receive the prompting that my father might not be there to greet me when I returned home. I never felt afraid, only willing that the Lord’s will be done.
On Mother’s Day in 1993 I was given the opportunity to make a telephone call to my mother. As we talked, I heard a sadness in her voice that she couldn’t hide.
“Mom, what is going on?” I asked.
“Nothing, son. Just keep working hard.”
“I will. But I want to know what’s happening.”
Then she told me, “Your father is very sick. He can no longer walk, and the doctors have diagnosed a tumor in his head. You must be strong, no matter what happens.”
My father asked to speak with me and was brought to the telephone. In a failing voice, he said, “Son, your calling came from the Lord. Do not worry, and do not stop working. Keep preaching the gospel.” I told him I would, but his energy had failed and he was no longer listening.
Three weeks later, he died. When I received the news, all the experiences we had shared together passed through my mind. Because of his faithfulness and good example, I had come to treasure him with all my heart.
Heavenly Father continued to console me throughout my mission. When I returned home, my great friend and teacher was not there to greet me. But I was strengthened by my faith in the Savior’s atonement and resurrection. I am grateful that I was able to be sealed to my parents the day before I entered the Missionary Training Center. I know that the day will come when I will see my father again and embrace him with eternal love.

“I’m home!” Daddy called. He was home early for Wyatt’s birthday. Wyatt turned five today!
Wyatt ran to him. Daddy gave him a big hug. “After lunch, you and I will go to the park,” Daddy said.
“Just us?” Wyatt asked. He loved his mom and his little sister, Maria, but sometimes he wanted to do things with just Daddy.
“Just us,” Daddy said.
Mommy made a lunch with all of Wyatt’s favorites. She also made a crown out of gold paper and glitter.
“Is that for me?” Wyatt asked, eyes wide.
“It is,” Mommy said.
It was a special birthday!
Wyatt wore the crown to the park. It kept slipping off his head, but he didn’t mind. “Daddy, does my birthday crown make me special?” he asked.
Daddy smiled. “A birthday crown is fun, but it’s not what makes you special. You are special because you are a child of God! And so is everyone else. That means everyone is special too.”
Daddy and Wyatt played on the playground. Wyatt went down the slide.
“Do you think I can go down the slide too?” Daddy asked.
Wyatt giggled. “You’re too big.”
Wyatt climbed up the ladder to go down the slide again. A girl was in front of him. She was afraid to go down. Wyatt thought about how everyone was special to Heavenly Father.
“You can do it!” he said.
She slid down the slide. So did Wyatt.
“Good job!” Wyatt said. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.
Being kind made Wyatt happy! He knew everyone was special, whether they had a birthday crown or not.

At the time, I was still staying with my former bishop’s family. Members from my previous ward were looking for a new place for me to live. A cute little basement apartment became available, and the next thing I knew, I was signing a lease. This did not happen by my own doing. It was the actions of a network of Church members, including my dear friend Natalie, the bishop’s wife.
Ward members helped move my personal effects and got me and Victoria settled in. The first two months’ rent had been paid in advance—again, by Church member donations. I still had no perception of time, and I was still emotionally numb to a certain degree, yet I was starting to get feeling back.
A few weeks after my daughter’s death, the realization and magnitude of what had happened started to creep in. It was like heavy, thick black smoke seeping in at first, followed by all-consuming billows until I was surrounded by complete darkness. Grief in its rawest has its own dimension of blackness.
Natalie had died on Thanksgiving Day. It was now Christmas. The holidays only magnified my loss. The agony lingered throughout the day and tormented me throughout the night. It was relentless. The tears poured endlessly for days. Minutes passed like hours. Hours passed like days. Days passed like years.
As a divorced woman, I did not have a husband who could go out and earn a living. If I could have, I would have curled up in a ball, locked myself in a closet, and remained there forever. But I didn’t have that luxury. I had to somehow gather the strength to function. I had to find a job. I was working when Thanksgiving Day happened, but somehow in all the chaos, I had forgotten about my job. I could have gone back to it, but my Natalie loved to hang out there, and the thought of going back without her was unbearable.
By the first week of January, I had gotten a low-paying job. I tried to act like I was normal. My body kept going, but I felt like my soul had died. No one knew I was a hollow shell of a being just going through the motions. It was only during the drive to and from work that I was able to break down emotionally. This was my new normal.
I started going to my new ward a little at a time. I just knew if someone asked me how I was doing, I would fall to pieces. I desperately wanted to go to church, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone, much less make eye contact. I wished with all my heart that I could be invisible. More than anything, I just wanted to rip this all-consuming pain out of my chest!
I have no idea what the sisters in Relief Society thought of me, and at the time I didn’t much care. I was too busy just trying to breathe! I’m sure I gave off the impression that I wanted to be left alone, for none of them bothered me. They did, however, occasionally give me a warm smile that I found a little comforting—just the exact small dose to keep me from running out the nearest exit, which was a constant thought.
Time is a healer. It doesn’t erase events, but it allows gaping wounds to slowly close.
That fateful Thanksgiving Day was in 2011, and it took me a few years to realize just how much I was helped by my brothers and sisters in the Church. I felt like I was carried off the battlefield after having been critically wounded. I was nursed back to health and cared for until I could stand on my own.
Countless blessings have come my way, in a variety of ways. My testimony has grown to near full maturity. I know now what it feels like to be held in the loving arms of our Savior.
So to answer my friend’s question, “How did the Church help you through this ordeal?” I say, “They didn’t help me. They saved me.”

One night the “mules and horses took a notion they would go and accordingly they went.” The boys started in pursuit “but the night was so dark that we had to take the advantage of the lightning to tell us which way we were going.” When Zeb saw something move in the distance he tried to run to it. “At last I got lost in a swamp but managed, after much trouble, to get back to camp without finding the animals.” Next morning, on foot, the boys found the animals more than nine miles from the camp.

“We’re going to have a scavenger hunt,” Mom announced at family home evening.
Ten-year-old Amy grinned.
“Cool!” said Nathan and Carl, Amy’s older brothers.
Mom continued. “You’ll be able to find most of the things on the list tonight, but some may take all week.” She passed a list to each person.
“Get as many as you can,” Mom said. “Heavenly Father will help you, if you ask.”
Amy scanned the page:
SCAVENGER HUNT—THINGS TO FIND
A picture of Jesus Christ
A story of a missionary experience
A true pioneer story
The name of an ancestor with the same first or middle name as yours
“OK,” Mom said, before Amy could finish reading the list, “be back here in an hour for closing prayer, and then try to complete the list during the week. We’ll have prizes and share our experiences next week.”
While Nathan and Carl whispered together, Amy read the rest of the list:
A story about President Hinckley when he was a boy
A scripture about faith
A picture of a temple in another country
Someone to give a Book of Mormon to
Amy groaned. The first seven wouldn’t be too hard. But how would she ever find someone to give a Book of Mormon to?
“The first one’s easy,” Amy muttered to herself. She took a deep breath, then pulled a small picture of Jesus Christ out of her scripture carrier. One down.
Her class had read Alma 32:21 in Primary last week. It was a good scripture on faith, so Amy put a bookmark there in her Book of Mormon and placed her scriptures by the picture of Jesus.
For once Amy was glad that her middle name was Evelyn. She already knew that it was her great-grandmother’s name, too!
Next, she went downstairs and found old copies of the Friend. As she thumbed through them, she found a picture of the Tokyo Temple. Another issue had a story about President Hinckley growing up, and several magazines had true pioneer stories. By that time, the hour was up. No one had thought of someone to give a Book of Mormon to. In the closing prayer, they asked for help in finding people who were looking for the gospel.
Brother and Sister McKenzie had just come home from their mission in Brazil, so on Tuesday, Amy decided to ask them about their mission. But the last item still stumped her—someone to give a Book of Mormon to.
Amy thought and prayed about it all week long. Whom could she give a Book of Mormon to? And what could she say? “We’re having a scavenger hunt—would you like a Book of Mormon?” They’d laugh at her.
She didn’t feel like being laughed at, and besides, she didn’t think giving someone a Book of Mormon should be a joke. It was a special book. She loved it, and she loved Jesus Christ too much to … That was it! It was a book for people who loved Jesus! Amy knew just the person.
She knelt and prayed quietly for Heavenly Father’s help. Courage, came a whisper in her mind. A calm feeling warmed her, and she rode her bike to her friend Sarah’s house.
But the calm feeling vanished when she got to the door. With sweaty palms and a butterfly storm in her stomach, she prayed silently, then rang the doorbell.
“Hi, Amy,” Mrs. Morgan said, opening the door. “Sarah’s at her grandmother’s this week.”
“I know,” Amy said. “I came to talk to you.” She paused, took a deep breath, then plunged in. “Mrs. Morgan, you love Jesus Christ a lot, don’t you?”
“Oh, very much,” Mrs. Morgan said, her face softening.
“Would you … would you like another book about Him?” Amy held out a blue Book of Mormon.
“The Book of Mormon,” Mrs. Morgan read. “Another Testament of Jesus Christ.”
“It tells some really neat things about Jesus,” Amy said. “About His visit to the Nephites in America and what He taught them. And it has one of my favorite scriptures—’When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.’”*
Mrs. Morgan studied Amy’s face for a moment, then looked back at the book. “Another Testament of Jesus Christ,” she repeated in a whisper. “Yes, Amy, I would like to read this. Thank you.”
Amy grinned, and the warm feeling bubbled over inside her. “I like all of it, but Third Nephi is where it tells about the Savior’s visit to the Americas. I especially like where He blesses the children. That’s Mom’s favorite part, too.”
Mrs. Morgan started turning pages, and Amy helped her find Third Nephi.
Mrs. Morgan settled herself on the front step and began reading. Amy waited for a moment, then smiled and left. Mrs. Morgan was too caught up in her reading to say good-bye. And as the bubbly feeling carried Amy home, she knew she had already won the real prize of the scavenger hunt, and she hoped everyone else in her family would win it, too.

As the years passed, my parents stopped practicing their religion, and I became an atheist. I thought it beneath me to believe in God.
One day when I was 17, I was sitting alone, looking out the window. For some reason, I suddenly began to believe in God again. At the time I was not interested in religion, but there came into my heart a conviction that God did actually exist.
A week later my family moved to Clermont-Ferrand in central France. I began asking myself some difficult questions: What is Jesus like? What is my relationship to Him? One afternoon some young men gave me a paper that read: “Who is Jesus? Come to the Christian pub to discuss this question with other young people.” I told the young men that I had been asking myself that very question. I said I would stop by soon.
The next day I decided to go to the Christian pub. But as I walked up to it, I couldn’t bring myself to enter. In the days that followed, I went back several times, but for some reason I was afraid to go inside.
My inability to enter the pub left me feeling sad. I didn’t know what to do. But after I came home from one of my uncompleted trips, the thought came to me that Jesus Christ organized His Church almost 2,000 years ago; therefore that Church must exist today. As soon as the idea entered my mind, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and saw two missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints standing there. I was surprised—not by their sudden appearance at my door, but by my reaction. I felt as though I had been waiting for them.
Because my room was in disorder, I felt embarrassed to have the missionaries come in, so I asked where they held meetings. The following Sunday I attended church at the address they gave me. What I learned of Jesus Christ and of my relationship to Him felt right. I was soon baptized. I have always believed the Spirit converted me to the gospel before the missionaries ever contacted me.

Jim Turner, an artist from the Lismore Ward in the Gold Coast Australia Stake, has achieved a milestone in his artistic journey. His oil painting The 1988 Bicentennial Naval Review will soon be on permanent display at the Royal Australian Navy Heritage Centre, the Maritime Museum of the Royal Australian Navy in Sydney. This monumental work, measuring 12 feet (3.6 m) long by 5 feet (1.5 m) high, includes a life-size portrait of Vice Admiral M. W. Hudson, who served as the Chief of Naval Staff in 1988.
Born in New South Wales, Brother Turner felt inspired by this event, recognizing its importance to Australian history. He was determined to create a work of art that would capture not only the grandeur of the naval review but also the spirit of unity it evoked.
Completed on November 4, 1988, The 1988 Bicentennial Naval Review was publicly exhibited only once, during a week-long exhibition that opened on December 3, 1988, by Senator Bronwyn Bishop. For years afterward, the painting awaited a permanent home where it could be appreciated by the public.
In 2024, Brother Turner was inspired to find a suitable home for his work. Through persistence and prayer, he contacted the Royal Australian Navy Heritage Centre. Although the museum was undergoing renovations, the centre accepted the painting for display in its new facility, which reopened in February 2025.
The museum will include Jim’s painting among its exhibits documenting the history of the Royal Australian Navy, from the First Fleet to the present day. Brother Turner’s painting will enrich the museum’s collection and the public’s understanding of this pivotal moment in Australia’s maritime history.
Brother Turner’s journey with this painting is a testimony of faith, persistence, and divine guidance.
Brother Turner reflects on the role of divine guidance throughout his journey. “I felt prompted to find a suitable home for people to view my painting of the Bicentennial Naval Review,” he said. “I have a firm testimony that if we do all that we possibly can, the Lord will provide the way and the means for us to accomplish whatever He has asked us to do.”
For Brother Turner, this painting is more than a depiction of a national event; it is a manifestation of faith and perseverance. He likens this experience to life’s daily challenges: “Be it a major work, like a 12-foot-long painting, or just completing simple daily tasks, [life is] made easier through the guidance of the Spirit.”
Brother Turner’s story is a reminder that God can magnify our talents to fulfil His purposes. Whether capturing a historic event on canvas or fulfilling a spiritual prompting to preserve it for others, his journey stands as a powerful example of trusting in the Lord’s timing and guidance. It proves that the Lord’s hand is evident in every aspect of our lives.

Several years ago an investigator gave this testimonial about Joseph Smith. He said that the Word of Wisdom was the revelation that most attracted him to investigate the Church. “There is no possible way,” he said, “that Joseph Smith could have known what we now know in the medical world about the harmful effects of tobacco, alcohol, tea, and coffee. Yet this has all been substantiated by medical science.”
He said that this was the beginning of his earnest investigation of the gospel, for he reasoned that if Joseph Smith could be so accurate on a matter that medical science validated over a hundred years later, the rest of the teachings of the Church deserved investigation. He did so and is now a member of the Church.