Gospel Story Finder

Two years ago, my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. We were very close. When I was young, she would tell me, “You’ll always be with me, and I know you’ll take care of me.”
Because I had returned home, I was there when she needed me, spending time with her every day during her final months. She didn’t join the Church before her death, but she loved the Liahona magazine, the Book of Mormon, and general conference. “I believe it all,” she said.
Later, I was blessed to be in the Cochabamba Bolivia Temple with my parents when my grandmother was sealed to her husband, who had died young. She never remarried. I felt that they were there in the temple with us, happy and together again. To see my parents in the sealing room standing as proxy for them was a beautiful sight.

“Hurry up! I want to see the lions,” Billy said, tugging on his sister’s sleeve.
“I’m coming,” Helen said. She jumped off the bench and grabbed Billy’s hand. They trotted off to see the lions.
When they reached the lions’ cage, they saw a man holding a camera and a little notebook. Children were gathered around him. A lady introduced the man. “Children, this is Mr. Maier,” she said. “He is an author visiting from New Jersey.”
An author! Helen liked meeting new people, especially famous people from far away.
“I travel from place to place and write about what I see,” Mr. Maier told the children. “Do any of you have a question for me?”
Helen raised her hand high in the air. Mr. Maier asked her to come to the front of the crowd. Helen scooted through the crowd until she stood near Mr. Maier.
“What are you writing about today?” Helen asked.
“Today I’m writing about Utah,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
Helen felt her heart start to beat faster. What could she think of to tell a famous author?
“Well, I’m 10 years old,” Helen said. Then she paused. Surely she could think of something more important. “And I’m a Mormon,” she added.
“A Mormon?” he asked. “Tell me more.”
“Well, my great-great-grandfather was Brigham Young, one of the prophets of our Church,” Helen replied. “And this Church is the true faith.”
“Is it really?” he asked.
“Yes, it is,” she said. “What is your religion?”
“I don’t have a religion,” Mr. Maier said.
Helen was surprised. “Why not?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “But maybe you can pray for me so I can be blessed too.”
“I can do that,” Helen said.
Then Helen got an idea. “Why don’t you get baptized in the true faith?”
Mr. Maier smiled. “That’s kind of you,” he said. “I think I would like to learn more about this faith first.”
When Mr. Maier returned home to New Jersey, he wrote a newspaper article about Helen. He called her a “zealous little Mormon girl.” He meant that she was enthusiastic and devoted to her faith. Mr. Maier was so impressed with Helen that he wrote to her and sent her copies of his books.
A few years later, Mr. Maier passed away. When Helen was older, she received permission from Mr. Maier’s family to have his temple work done. Thanks to Helen, a young man was baptized in the temple for Mr. Maier in the “true faith.”

My dad had been doing a lot of family history work. I loved hearing about my ancestors who were pioneers, ancestors who fought in the American Revolutionary War, and ancestors who had been kings and knights in Europe.
“How would you like to come to the Family History Library with me on Saturday?” Dad asked one day.
“Sure!” I couldn’t wait to see for myself the royal names on our pedigree chart.
We arrived in Salt Lake City and enjoyed the summer morning sunshine as we walked to the library. I became more and more excited the closer we got. There inside that big building were the names and stories of my own family—pioneers, soldiers, knights, and all.
Once inside, Dad pulled up a couple of chairs in front of a computer. We sat down, and he began navigating through databases to show me where our family tied into a royal line.
“Hmmm.” His forehead furrowed. “I can’t seem to find it today,” he finally said.
I was very disappointed. We spent the rest of the morning looking through books that held stories of my pioneer ancestors. I enjoyed that too, but I still wanted to learn about my other ancestors.
“Don’t worry,” Dad said. “We’ll come back next weekend.”
The week flew by, and soon Dad and I were sitting in front of a computer in the Family History Library again. This time, Dad said, “Aha! Found it.”
He scrolled through names of kings and queens from all over Europe recorded there in my family history! There were so many names and dates that it would take many days to get them all into our family history software. “We’ll have to come back a lot to get all the information we need,” I said.
A woman working on the computer next to us glanced over and saw what we were doing. “I’m related to that line too,” she said. “I’ve been working here every day to get information about those ancestors.” Within minutes, she copied all of her information onto a disc and handed it to Dad.
As we walked back to the car, I thought hard. “Heavenly Father must really want us to find our ancestors, don’t you think, Dad?”
He smiled. “I think you’re right. If we had found the ancestors we were looking for last week, we may not have met our new friend here today. And had we not met her, we would not have been able to find so many of our ancestors so quickly.”
I knew that Heavenly Father had helped us discover almost 1,000 years’ worth of family history in one morning. He loves our ancestors as much as He loves us. We needed to help them just as He had helped us—by finding their names, learning about their lives, and making sure their temple work was done. Someday I will meet them, and we can be an eternal family.

Remembering some of her experiences in Primary and Sunday School, Sister Smith said, “One time after I had given a two-and-a-half minute talk, I thought I had done quite well. But a certain brother said, ‘I was really disappointed in you.’ I felt crushed and asked, ‘What didn’t I do?’
“He said, ‘You didn’t smile.’
“I think that made me realize that you need to smile often if you want people to feel comfortable with you. Now that I’ve learned how to genuinely smile at people, it has made a big difference in my life. Smiling is a signal of friendship. Heavenly Father has told us that one of our purposes here is to experience joy. I think that smiling is one way to reach that goal.”

Many years ago it was my opportunity to serve as president of the Canadian Mission. There we had a branch with very limited priesthood. We always had a missionary presiding over the branch. I received a strong impression that we needed to have a member of the branch preside there.
We had one adult member in the branch who was a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood but who didn’t attend or participate enough to be advanced in the priesthood. I felt inspired to call him as the branch president. I shall always remember the day that I had an interview with him. I told him that the Lord had inspired me to call him to be the president of the branch. After much protest on his part, and much encouragement on the part of his wife, he indicated that he would serve. I ordained him a priest.
It was the beginning of a new day for that man. His life was quickly put in order, and he assured me that he would live the commandments as he was expected to live them. In a few months he was ordained an elder. He and his wife and family eventually went to the temple and were sealed. Their children served missions and married in the house of the Lord.

Being meek means “enduring injury with patience and without resentment,”4 something that takes both strength and humility. In 1838, Thomas B. Marsh, the first President of the Quorum of the Twelve, left the Church, in part because of his resentment that Church leaders didn’t side with his wife in a dispute over milk. In his later years, he lamented the blessings he had lost and returned to the Church, saying: “I have frequently wanted to know how my apostacy [sic] began, and I have come to the conclusion that I must have lost the Spirit of the Lord out of my heart. … “… I felt angry and wrathful; and the Spirit of the Lord being gone, as the Scriptures say, I was blinded.”5

How could Brigham Young have been so sure when he told Wilford Woodruff, upon entering the valley, “This is the right place. Drive on”? The answer is that as the Valley of the Great Salt Lake came into view, Brigham Young was seeing much more than the salt flats and the swarms of black crickets. Sometime later Wilford Woodruff described their entrance into the valley in these words:

When we came out of the cañon into full view of the valley, I turned the side of my carriage around, open to the west, and President Young arose from his bed and took a survey of the country. While gazing on the scene before us, he was enwrapped in vision for several minutes. He had seen the valley before in vision, and upon this occasion he saw the future glory of Zion and of Israel, as they would be, planted in the valleys of these mountains. When the vision had passed, he said: “It is enough. This is the right place. Drive on.”

Answer: I struggled as a child. I had a wonderful family and didn’t go through any obvious tragedies, but I always seemed to feel angry at myself and those around me. I would take these feelings out on my siblings. The more I mistreated them, the worse I felt. And yet I couldn’t seem to stop. This behavior drove a wedge between me and my family members. When I was 12 years old, I thought I was an evil, rotten, worthless person. I thought everyone would be better off without me.
Answer: I remember one time at the doctor’s office, the pediatrician asked Mom if she had ever heard her children say, “I wish I’d never been born.” And Mom answered, “No, all of the kids are fine.” I was surprised that Mom didn’t know I had thought about killing myself. So I tried to tell her what I was going through. But she acted so shocked that it made me never want to talk about it again. I pretended that I hadn’t really meant it.
Answer: Yes, but I didn’t really understand what a testimony was. I always knew deep down that there was a God, but Satan was working hard to convince me to doubt everything else. So I started wondering if the entire Church was wrong. Fortunately, I had some great Young Women leaders who were inspired to help me and show me a lot of love. One of them in particular helped me start feeling better about myself.
Answer: A bright spot was my Young Women class. I had a teacher who taught right at my level. She’s since moved away, and I wish I could tell her what she meant to me. I don’t remember what she taught exactly, but I remember feeling like I belonged there.
Another thing that really helped were temple trips. Even though I often felt worthless and didn’t think anyone cared about me, I enjoyed the spark of light and goodness of the temple. I often felt the Spirit there. One trip in particular made a difference. It started out bad because one of the older girls said something hurtful to me. But later that day, she apologized and gave me a hug. And I learned that I really liked hugs! After that, I asked her for a hug every Sunday. One Sunday I sat down in sacrament meeting without getting a hug from her. And she came up to me and said, “Where’s my hug?” with a smile. I felt so surprised and special that she sought me out and showed me love. She and I became closer and closer friends. I know hugs don’t help everyone, but they helped me.
Answer: Sure! She was the craziest, most energetic person I have ever known. She seemed to have never-ending amounts of happiness to share. She greeted me with so much enthusiasm and love every Sunday and gave me a hug. Her dose of goodness seemed to be just what I needed. I would carry it with me during the week. Over time, I began to accept that what she said was true. The Spirit was working on me. This is when my behavior finally started to improve in a lasting way. And my suicidal thoughts, which I’d had about a year, went away, though I still had to work on how I felt about myself.
Answer: Another turning point was when I began to volunteer at a nonprofit organization each week with my older brother and my mom. I was sometimes the only volunteer on my team who showed up regularly, so my supervisor counted on me. I found I really liked that. For example, one time we were cleaning up together, and she got called away to do something else. I kept sweeping and working hard. When she came back, she said that I had really good initiative and gave me so many compliments. And it felt so good. I realized that working hard and doing a good job was fun. Helping was fun! So I began to try my hardest to be the best volunteer that I could be. I gained enough experience to train other volunteers. I developed a passion for this organization and made friends.
Photograph from Getty Images
During this time, my behavior continued to change in positive ways as I felt the Spirit increase in my life. Over the next couple of years, I made friends again with my family members. I started feeling like a good person instead of a bad person. I became a happier person. People even commented on how much I smiled. And my happiness no longer depended on having a leader saying good things at church. My testimony of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ was growing, and I could feel Their love for me.
Answer: My testimony keeps growing stronger. I know now that Heavenly Father loves every one of us—including me. I know the Book of Mormon is the word of God. I know that no matter what mistakes we have made, we can come back to goodness. We can repent through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Anyone can return to Him again.
Answer: Please, if you are experiencing low self-worth, or depression, or want to die, or any other feelings like that, reach out for help. Go to a parent, a youth leader, a former Primary teacher, a bishop, even a friend—anyone you feel you can trust. I promise you that Heavenly Father does not want you to die. He wants you to live and feel joy. He wants you to feel His love. Turn to Jesus Christ. He can help you throughout your trials. He knows everything you are going through. Meanwhile, Satan is the one who tells you lies about yourself. Ignore him. He wants you to fail. Heavenly Father wants you to succeed.
Answer: Honestly, I still have a hard time accepting compliments or believing good things about myself sometimes. And I think insults hurt me more than they hurt most people, even if they’re just a joke. I still sometimes have a hard time believing that people love me until I feel convinced. But overall, I like myself and who I am becoming. It is a glorious feeling!

It happened again when a man and his wife arrived back in town just after the dam had broken. They didn’t go to their home. They went first to find their bishop. He was covered in mud, leading his members in mucking out homes. They asked what he would have them do.
They went to work. Much later, they took a few minutes to check on their own house. It was gone. So they went back to work wherever their bishop asked them to help. They knew where to go to get the Lord’s direction for service in His Church.

Clarice Evans of Bellevue, Washington, was one of 50 vocalists from across the nation accepted to the Young Artists Vocal Program at the Boston University Tanglewood Institute. The selection allowed Clarice to participate in an intense eight-week summer program designed to build musicianship in outstanding high school vocalists.
Clarice also participates in her school choirs. After earning the lead in the school’s musical, Clarice found out there was a performance scheduled for Sunday. Through her tears, she told the director she would have to give up the part. The director said, “I’m glad to know there are still people who feel that way about Sundays. Clarice, we need students like you. Let me see what we can do about the Sunday schedule.” Subsequently, the Sunday performance was dropped, and Clarice was able to perform the part.
Clarice is a Laurel in the Bellevue First Ward, Bellevue Washington Stake.

Several years ago, I had the opportunity to serve as the stake’s young women camp director. At this camp, the young women were able to strengthen their testimonies of Jesus Christ, make new friends, and develop leadership skills. One experience that I will never forget happened in a small river near the camp. As part of that activity, we led the young women through some challenging obstacles down to the river. When they finally reached their goal, they enjoyed wading in the water. The young women were very happy and having fun. However, I noticed one of the girls who was looking at the water with great interest, as if she was trying to find something. I decided to ask what had drawn her interest.
I said, “What’s wrong?” She replied that she was looking for a silver earring that had fallen in the river. I reminded her that there were rules at camp that if followed would help avoid situations like this. She acknowledged her mistake but then emotionally said, “Those earrings are precious because my grandmother gave them to me.” I felt badly that she had lost it.
After watching her search for those earrings doubt filled my thoughts. How was it even possible to help her find anything in this rocky river bottom and constantly flowing waters? Then I felt impressed that we should say a prayer together and I asked, “Do you have faith that Jesus Christ could help us?”
She responded with a firm, “Yes.”
I let her know that I also felt that He would help us.
After our prayer, we looked in the river. It was still difficult but at one point it seemed like the movement of the water stopped and I saw something shiny. I bent down, put my hands in the water, and stirred the rocky soil and there was the young woman’s earring. I presented it to her, and our embrace was filled with happiness and gratitude for this miracle from our Heavenly Father, because of our faith.
These examples show us that faith requires us to act on our belief in the Savior even though we may not have a perfect knowledge of things. We can accomplish great things as we act. Our acts of faith, though they may appear as great sacrifices on our part, return to us as personal miracles that demonstrate Heavenly Father’s love for each of us. My young woman received her personal miracle, and like the widow of Zarephath, I learned to offer what I can when the Lord presents opportunities to me to bless others.

Lori:
We have a lot of members and very strong wards around a place called “Trash Mountain,” which is an open dump where people live. Members there are pickers and collectors. They make their money off of recycling plastic and aluminum that they get out of the dump. They live in teeny little houses that we have been to dozens of times.
Bob:
One day we could hear music blaring, and we noticed a tent was being set up. In Cambodia, that either means somebody is getting married or somebody has died.
Lori:
We found out that a mother of five or six kids had just died. There was no husband to speak of. The children just woke up and realized their mom was dead.
One daughter was just sobbing. Through a translator, she said, “I’m the oldest. I’ve got all these siblings. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
I just scooped her up in my arms. How could I not? This girl just lost her mother. I spoke to her in English and said, “I know you don’t understand me, but I promise you will see your mother again. You are going to be OK. You are not going to be left alone.”
So many experiences like this have given us a special connection with the people of Cambodia.

For eight years he served in the cabinet of the president of the United States. Before the first Cabinet meeting, then-Secretary Benson suggested to President-elect Eisenhower that they commence with prayer. President Eisenhower spoke of the weight of responsibility on the new administration and the need for divine guidance, then called on the Secretary of Agriculture to open the meeting with prayer. That practice continued throughout the Eisenhower administration.

A few weeks ago our family was driving home from sacrament meeting. Being the financial clerk, I had stayed after church to finish the tithing deposit. My family waited for me, and by the time we left, we were all very hungry. I suggested we stop at a new take-out restaurant and buy some food to take home. My wife agreed, and I made a sharp turn toward the restaurant. Then, in the rearview mirror, I noticed our daughter C. J. sitting with her arms folded and a frown on her face. She reminded me sternly that it was the Sabbath and that we should keep it holy. “There is plenty of food at home for us to make something to eat,” she said. With that, I made another sharp turn toward home. We are grateful that our daughter reminds us to keep the Sabbath day holy.

I was once moved by a Christlike example of everyday ministering when I was shopping in a big grocery store. I came across a lady who was trying to lift heavy cases of water into her cart.

A man nearby quickly noticed that she was struggling and came over to help. When they got the cases loaded, he even asked if she needed any more help from him.

As I noticed this beautiful act, this stranger looked over at me and greeted me kindly with a smile. His expression seemed to say that he was willing to help me as well if I needed it.

His example reminded me of the Savior.

The Savior always ministered without hesitation when He saw a need. He often served and offered His aid without question—only love. Seeing the example of this man has stuck with me and inspired me to look for everyday opportunities to minster in my own life. And I now see that those opportunities are everywhere.

It was a difficult six months. “When the missionaries were teaching him,” María says, “the Spirit was there. But when they left, the Spirit seemed to leave—and Carlos was left to himself. I fasted for him often.”

“A Uruguayan elder who taught me had a character just like mine,” says Carlos. “We had lots of discussions. I would ask hard questions, he would answer me, and I would try to refute him. I enjoyed discussing the gospel like that. I wanted the direct message, and he helped clarify lots of things.

“Then I decided to do my part and see what would happen,” he says. “I stopped smoking—I used to smoke two packs of cigarettes a day. I stopped drinking. I bought some Catholic books, studied them all, and talked with my uncle who was a Catholic priest. Then I got a book about LDS Church history.” He took some time off work, hoping to find a quiet place to study and meditate.

Then, as if on cue, a relative called and offered the Roigs the use of her house for two weeks—a quiet place in the country. It was just the retreat he needed. “I sat down and read and prayed,” says Carlos. “I read the history and the doctrine. By that time, I had already accepted the fact that this must be true. I just needed to make the decision.

“But there was something within me that was keeping me from it. I wondered what the problem was. One night in my bedroom, I had the Bible and Book of Mormon open. And I found a scripture that says that if we want to come to the Lord, we must ask forgiveness from those we’ve offended. (See 3 Ne. 12:23–24.) That scripture really made me think. Whom had I offended?”

Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. “There was something in my life that I needed to confess and repent of. But because of my fear of losing my family and losing everything, I had kept it to myself. Now I knew that I would have to repent completely and sincerely. I believed in Christ, and at that moment I was illuminated with the truth that I hadn’t accepted before—that Joseph Smith was a prophet. And I was also illuminated with all that had to do with the gospel. At that moment, my heart broke.

“So I went to my wife and said, `You’re going to cry. And it’s going to be hard.’ I knew in my heart that I could lose everything, including my family. But I couldn’t keep quiet. It was hard, but María accepted my repentance.

“Her understanding, love, and faithfulness have changed everything in me,” he says. “I remembered Saul of Tarsus, who changed totally after the Lord came to him. That’s how it has been with me—a 180-degree change.”

Carlos was baptized soon afterwards, on 14 February 1984. A year later, he and María and their children were sealed in the São Paulo Temple. “My wife’s patriarchal blessing has been fulfilled,” he says.

The wind whirled flakes of fallen snow around the corner of Temple Square. Brother Arnold’s message still stirred in the corners of Faye’s thoughts: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these …” She pulled up the collar of her new, red suede coat, caressing it with her cheek. It didn’t prevent the wind from finding new pathways up the sleeves and under the hem. She shivered and hurried down the sidewalk, hugging the buildings closely to avoid the wind. The fresh odor of pine and spice spilled from the candy and furniture store doorways, blending in the street to form a sea of Christmas smells.
As she breathed in the aromas, she glanced at her watch. 9:25. It was getting late. Shivering again she thrust her hands inside her pockets and balanced her purse against her hip. As she gazed at a glittering array of diamonds in a jewelry store window, she came within inches of crashing into an old man who was huddled against the building. She tripped to avoid a collision and dropped her handbag. As she stooped to retrieve the purse, he stooped with her, grabbing it with bare, crooked fingers. The light from the streetlamp reflected eerily from the old man’s eyes like two flames in the dark. He smiled, and the glow revealed a broken tooth. Faye jerked back and covered her mouth.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. Din’t mean ta scar ya so. Wouldja like ta buy a bright Christmas pencil?” he rasped in a scratchy voice, handing her the purse. She fumbled in her pocket and found a quarter she had put there for her little brother, Ronny. “Thank ya,” he said “and Meery Christmas.” He bowed low, extending an imaginary hat with his hand.
She stopped at the corner only a few yards away to await her bus, rested a hand on her pounding chest, and took a deep breath. Squeezing closely to the wall, she found herself engulfed in the shadow of a cafe marquee. Magnetically the old man pulled her eyes back to him. He crouched there in the doorway of the candy store in an oversized, earth-brown coat and scuffed logger boots. A black felt hat was pulled over his ears and held in place with a scarf tied under his chin. He shuffled back and forth against the building holding his metal box filled with pencils. The bare, gnarled hands alternately shifted the box and slipped inside his coat for warmth.
Faye had seen an old man like him many times as a child. He had stopped regularly at their door at Christmas and in the summer, each year appearing more wrinkled and more stooped in the shoulders. Her father dragged out old suits and shoes while her mother prepared sandwiches for him. Faye remembered shivering from fear in the corner behind the great folds of drapes, aghast at his long, spiney whiskers and the layers of flesh that hung loosely about his face.
Faye shivered now in the cold as she watched the people rush past the old man as store closing times approached. Many times his hand reached out, “Wouldja like ta buy …” and fell limply to his side.
A woman approached with her hair wound around her head in a beehive of braids and curls. She paused, and then grasping her bundles tightly, circled around the man huddled in the doorway, and hurried down the street.
The old man shuffled faster as he blew into the empty hand. Two gentlemen with briefcases hurried by. One in a double-breasted tweed coat spoke aloud to the other, gesturing in the air with his hand. “Be realistic, Walt. If I could anticipate a drop in the market,” he reached mechanically into his pocket, “I’d make us all a fast buck.” He flipped a silver coin, which sailed through the air and landed with a clink into the metal box and bounced out onto the ground near the scuffed logger boots. The gentleman’s stride never broke as the old man reached for a pencil and waved it noiselessly in the air. The briefcases shrunk in the distance. The old man turned, mumbling, and spat on the ground. He stared down at the coin for an instant and then stooped and picked it up. He grew smaller as he slumped into the doorway. The metal box scratched the cement as he placed it beside him, and he rubbed his gnarled hands together blowing warm breath into them. Faye looked down at her own gloved hands, straight and soft under the warm pigskin.
Her bus rolled up to the corner, and the doors slid open inviting her to return to the warmth of home. She started toward the bus, paused, and stared back over her shoulder at the old man. Brother Arnold’s voice echoed in her memory with a new clarity, “Inasmuch as ye do it …” She looked down at her watch. There would be another bus. She turned and marched down the street, disappearing into the dime store.
She chose some large leather gloves lined with fur and had them carefully gift wrapped with a gold bow on top.
Reappearing on the street, she couldn’t see the old man. Her eyes widened as they searched the sidewalk and finally caught sight of a dark figure at the crosswalk. She ran.
“Sir! Wait, sir!”
He looked over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised.
“Yes, sir, you. I have something for you,” and she handed him the package. His lips parted as he glanced down at the package and back up at Faye. His shaggy brows knitted together as he gazed at her through moistened eyes. He rummaged in his metal box until he found two bright, gold pencils and handed them to her. They searched each other’s faces as he stretched forth a tremulous hand and lightly touched her arm. For an instant the rough, earth-brown coat rested gently on the soft, red suede. Faye lowered her eyes. She suddenly pulled back her arm, turned and hurried toward the bus stop. She leaned her weight against the wind without shivering.

I once heard a stake president mention the great success of one of his elders quorum presidents. He said, “His name is Hershel Pedersen. Perhaps you have heard of him. They used to call him ‘Bones’ when he played for BYU.” Well, I, along with many of you had heard of Brother Pedersen. As a matter of fact he grew up in my stake. He is one of the seven sons of Oliver Cowdery Pedersen, who all went on missions, most of them to Denmark. I heard his report when he returned from his mission, and I signed his temple recommend when he was married. So I was interested.

The stake president continued: “Brother Pedersen has committed himself to qualify every man in his quorum for a temple recommend. They are all qualified now except six.” Some time later when I was with the Church Home Teaching Committee, we remembered this story and asked Brother Pedersen to report on how his quorum had turned out. He said, “We got them all but three. Then they released me to become president of the stake mission. But since my release we got the other three.”

Some years ago in the Philippines we arrived early for a conference. Sitting on the curb were a father and mother and four small children dressed in their Sunday best. They had come several hours on a bus and were having the first meal of the day. Each of them was eating a cob of cold, boiled corn. The cost of the bus to Manila probably came out of their food budget.
As I watched that family, my heart overflowed with emotion. There is the Church. There is the power. There is the future. As with families in many lands, they pay their tithing, sustain their leaders, and do their best to serve.
For more than 40 years, my wife and I have traveled over the earth. We know members of the Church in perhaps a hundred countries. We have felt the power in their simple faith. Their individual testimonies and their sacrifice have had a profound effect on us.

Seminary student Girly Mbuli explains how her faith and love of the scriptures saved her from a terrible situation.
“One day my friend Tiny Gugu and I had to go to Zondi to take some books to another girl. On our way back we saw a gang of boys. Gangs here rape girls, steal cars, do everything horrible. We started to run, but it was too late.
“The boys faced us. They had weapons. They made us go up on a hill and meant to do awful things to us. On the way up the hill, I was saying a prayer to my Heavenly Father. I don’t remember which scriptures I tried to say, but I kept thinking of them. I asked for help to be calm and not afraid. I felt peace come into my heart.
“When you are on top of that hill, you can see everything. The boys looked down and asked where I was staying. I pointed to Jabulane and something told me to say I was with my grandmother and my friend Lindiwe.
“The leader looked at me and said, ‘You are not afraid. Let them go!’ I later found out the brother of my friend Lindiwe is the boss of this gang, and he stays in the house of my grandmother. That is why they let us go free.
“When I tell this story to people, they refuse to believe we survived. But I know I did and I know why. It was because of my faith in Heavenly Father. I know that Isaiah 1:18 can be true for those guilty gang boys, if they will repent: “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow.” [Isa. 1:18]