Gospel Story Finder

How grateful I am for the power of example. The New Era truly sets a good example for the youth of today—our leaders of tomorrow. I’m thankful to a friend of mine who set an example for me four years ago when I was 18 by asking me if I would listen to the missionaries. I did and was shortly thereafter baptized. Now I am on a mission serving the Lord—supported by my non-LDS family. I hope I am setting an example for them. Thank you, Mike Johnson, for sharing the gospel.
Elder Chris D. AxentyIdaho Pocatello Mission

When I was in my last year of Primary, a wonderful older lady named Marth Christensen was our teacher. She helped us learn the Articles of Faith. To this day I still know the Articles of Faith because of what I learned in Primary. We visited Sister Christensen’s home often. It was always a wonderful experience to be there. She taught us cooking skills, and we made cookies and candy. Sometimes we took the treats we had made to somebody who was homebound. The examples of wonderful teachers taught me to serve.

In December 23, a birthday party was going on inside the warm, cozy home of Norma and Stan Jones. But instead of “Happy Birthday to You,” the family was singing “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief” (Hymns, no. 29), a favorite hymn of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
As the strains of music filled the pine-scented air, Benjamin Jones, their 21-year-old grandson, was filled with love, appreciation, and excitement. He was preparing for a mission and couldn’t wait to share his testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith and the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
You see, Ben’s grandma, Norma, has gathered her family and special friends together each December for 38 years to celebrate the Prophet’s birthday by studying his life and teachings. But for Ben, this December 23rd was special because the seeds of love and respect for the Prophet these firesides planted in his heart finally took root.
“I’ve always had a testimony, but I haven’t always made the best choices,” says Elder Jones, of the Salt Lake River Oaks Second Ward, now serving as a full-time missionary in West Virginia. “However, when I saw the death mask that artist David Lindsley brought to our party that year, all of a sudden the Prophet became more than just a story I had heard many times or a painting on the wall. He came alive for me. I had been studying, praying, and searching for the direction my life should take, and I knew at that moment that Joseph Smith was truly a prophet of God.”

When I turned 14 and was called to go home teaching, I was assigned to be his companion. He didn’t have a car and I didn’t drive then, so I rode my bike over to his place, now just a little way out of town since things had grown so much since he first moved there.
His living room had a round kitchen table with four chairs around it, with a shaggy throw rug on the floor and a reading lamp that hung from the high ceiling. Lying on the table were a large copy of the Book of Mormon and a Bible.
He shuffled over to the reading lamp and switched it on. Once he told me a horse had kicked him and left him with a limp. He stood there looking at me and then reached in his back pocket and pulled out a large handkerchief and wiped his nose.
“Jamie, we got to have a word of prayer.” He grabbed the edge of the table for support and lowered himself to a kneeling position with his hands folded on the seat of the chair. Then he looked up at me and said, “You kneel, don’t you?”
I knelt down.
“Father in heaven,” he began, “Jamie and me come to ask thee to help us as we go as home teachers into the homes of thy Saints.” It was a long prayer, and my knees were soon aching, so I tried to shift my weight around to get a better position, but by the time I found it, he had finished.
“Jamie, help me up.”
I reached down and put my arm under his elbow and pulled. He was a big man, and it was a struggle to get him on his feet.
He walked over to the window and looked out.
“Come over here. Do you see the place over there by the big tree, and the place next to it down the road? On the way here, do you remember seeing the place with the ‘Rhubarb for Sale’ sign nailed to the fence?” I nodded my head. “The Lord’s given us stewardship over those families. Do you know what that means?”
“Yes sir.”
“What does it mean?”
“Well, we have to visit them once a month.”
He rubbed one hand over his stubble beard. “Is that what you think it means?”
“I think so.”
“You got a long way to go, son.”
The nurse came in and gave him some pills. He didn’t look very good. But when he talked, and you forgot about the chalky grayness of his face and his short, quick breaths, he was the same.
“Did you go fishing yesterday?”
“No, I’m waiting for you to get out so we can go together.”
He looked out the window for a long time, and I thought he hadn’t heard me. But after a few minutes he turned to me.
“Jamie, you better learn to tie your own flies. I can’t furnish you with free equipment your whole life.”
“I will.”
“I would have taught you before, but you were such a slow learner at fishing. I thought I’d better wait.”
The first time he offered to take me fishing behind his place, I brought the stuff my friends and I used when we fished from the old country bridge.
“What kind of a rig you call that?” He looked at my large lead sinker and a treble hook with a wad of dried-up cheese stuck to it. “Here, let me see that. You’re not supposed to club the fish to death.” He took the sinker from the line. “And what’s this?” he said, pointing to the cheese. “You bring your lunch?”
“I usually use worms or cheese for bait.”
He shook his head. “I’ll teach you to fly fish. Then you’ll know something about fishing.”
He stepped a little ways into the river so he could get a free swing with his fly rod. “Look over there, just in front of the boulder.” He whipped the fly line back and forth a couple of times to let out line, and then cast. The fly landed gently on the water and glided into the swirling water downstream from the boulder. Suddenly the water boiled as a German Brown rose up and took the fly. He carefully fought it to his side and then reached down and swished it up in his net. “You think you can learn to do that?” he said as he reached down into the net and pulled out the trout and dropped him gently back into the water.
Nearly every weekday afternoon that summer I’d go over to his place with my rod, and we’d walk across his field to the river. He taught me how to cast a fly rod, and where to stand, and what kind of flies to use for each part of the summer. “You got to find out what they’re feeding on, Jamie. That’s the secret.”
He slept a while because of the pills. The bishop stopped by to see him, but saw him asleep, and said he’d come back later.
The second month that we went home teaching, Brother Johnson had just bought a new horse. And so we walked out to the corral and took a look.
“Mort, how much you pay for that mare?”
“About a thousand dollars. Why?”
“She’s a fine horse. How come you spent so much money for her?”
“She’s got a good line.” Then he stopped and looked at the old man. “Why are you asking me a question like that? You been around horses most of your life.”
“I never had a horse worth a thousand bucks. What will you do with her, sell her to the glue factory?”
“You know I’m not going to do that.”
“Yep, I know that.” He looked at the mare for a while and then turned to Brother Johnson and said, “Mort, how long did your dad serve as a bishop?”
“About ten years, I guess. Why?”
“You come from a good line, Mort. As far as the Lord is concerned, you’re registered stock. But you’re no good to the Lord the way you are now. It’d be less of a waste to sell that horse to the rendering plant as for you to keep away from church any longer. The Lord wants you back in harness, Mort.”
Brother Johnson took the toothpick out of his mouth and dropped it on the ground. “You may be right,” he said simply.
When the old man woke up, he was embarrassed that he’d fallen asleep. But I said it was okay; I didn’t mind, and it would make him get better fast.
“Jamie, you been here too long. Your folks’ll be worrying about you.”
“It’s okay. They know I’m here.”
He turned his head so he could see outside. “What day is it?”
“June 13.”
“June 13. Now starting in a few days, I’d try an Adams with a number 14 hook. You got enough flies? If you need any, you know where they are.”
All of a sudden he seemed to get some strength, and he leaned forward. “Now, you keep visiting them families, you hear? The Johnsons are coming along fine, but you ask the bishop to get the Scoutmaster over there to get their boy Brad in Scouting.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard, and there was an urgency to his voice. “Jamie, you keep yourself clean so you can marry a pure and beautiful LDS girl in the temple when the time comes. And get ready to go on your mission. You need to read the scriptures more than you do.”
“I will.”
He still was holding onto my hand. “Jamie, once on my mission I went and saw the changing of the guards … Jamie …”
Before he could finish, a nurse stuck her head into the room. “I’m sorry but visiting hours are over.”
He released his grip. “You’d better go, Jamie. Come back tomorrow if you can.”
The next day when I got home from my softball game, my mom told me he had died that afternoon.
I walked over to his place and down the path to the fishing spot on the river where we used to go, and sat down on a rock. The river takes a bend just upstream from that point, and there was a hole where the eddy currents curled around in slow lazy loops, and there, he told me, the fish stayed when they were feeding on a hatch of flies coming down the river. The spot was hard to find because of the growth of trees on both sides, and most people who fished it probably got their line tangled in the fallen branches that lay in the water. But he told me where to stand and how to cast so you avoided the hidden traps.
My thoughts were interrupted by a trout jumping clear of the water for a fly. And then, for a moment, I could hear in my mind the old man say, “Don’t whip the water, just let it slide down nice and easy. You’re supposed to make the fish think a fly is landing on the water and not that a tree has fallen into the river. Use the Royal Coachman now, Jamie. How come you’ve never read the Book of Mormon? I want you to read it, and in three months I want you to tell Brother Johnson about it and bear your testimony.”
I sat there for a couple of hours thinking about him, until finally it was too dark and I got up and walked back down the path to my home.

That was in June 1974. One year later there was another change of a historic nature. It was announced that Churchwide June Conferences held in Salt Lake City would be discontinued. One of Ruth’s most memorable experiences came during the last June Conference session held in the Salt Lake Tabernacle. Traditionally, every year the leaders of the MIA sang “Firm as the Mountains Around Us” during the opening session. It was the last time that Ruth May Fox’s hymn for youth would be sung in such a setting. The song was announced, and then the conductor arose. But instead of raising his arms to lead the singing, he called for President Funk to come forward. “Because of her great love for youth and her dedication to them, we feel it only fitting that she conduct this song at this special time.” Surprised but willing, she was assisted by the Brethren nearby to climb onto the conductor’s stand. With exuberance she led the thousands of leaders packed into the Tabernacle in singing: “O youth of the noble birthright, Carry on, carry on, carry on!”

As a teenager, I didn’t like going to church, so I didn’t know much about the Bible or about God, nor did I want to. When I was 17, a friend of mine told me she was a Mormon. I had no idea what a Mormon was. I told my friend, “If I want to know anything about that Church, I’ll find out on my own.”
Seeing that I wasn’t too concerned about religion, she gave me a Book of Mormon and asked me to read it and pray about it. She didn’t pressure me. Later that night as I opened the book, I noticed her testimony written in the front. As I read it, I felt that I should learn more about the Book of Mormon. So I started reading 1 Nephi. I could not put the book down. I needed to know more.
In a family home evening, her family taught me about the gospel of Jesus Christ. Everything seemed to make sense. Soon I was taught by the missionaries and baptized and confirmed a member of the Lord’s true Church. The gospel helped me know who I am, where I came from, and where I could go if I am faithful.
As I look back, I can see how the Holy Ghost helped me want to learn more. As I learned more, my attitude about church and God changed. For the first time in my life, I wanted to do what He wanted me to do.
The Book of Mormon changed my life, and I’m thankful for my friend who shared it with me. A true friend shares vital information such as this.

It started when I was a devout, hardcore Calvinist. Though I’d returned to full activity a couple years before, questions I’d had since childhood lingered in the background of my mind. Over the previous months and years leading to meeting the missionaries, they grew and multiplied after receiving no satisfactory answer from asking or researching them. These endeavours to discover more truth left me with more confusion. They were corrosive to my faith. Its crescendo was when these queries led to a faith crisis. I doubted everything from the most minor of doctrines to the very existence of God.
One night, I earnestly and desperately prayed to know who He is, for help. By then, I was closer to agnosticism than Christianity. Mere days later, I met the missionaries when somebody I used to vaguely know from school (and hadn’t spoken to in over three years) added me to a group chat with Elders McIntosh and Beam. God sent me who I needed when I needed them.
The two things I remember from the conversation played a huge role in my conversion. When I joined a video call (late) Elder Beam was reading Moroni’s promise (see Moroni 10:3–5). His companion, Elder McIntosh, and he carried a sweet and sacred Spirit which impacted me. I didn’t recognise it at the time (two months would pass before I’d learn to recognise it) but it drew me to them. I wanted to know them; I wanted to know what they had to say.
From then on, I started meeting with them and learning of the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, of the Book of Mormon, of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Everything was so foreign to me, but I felt the Spirit every time. I started reading it for myself when (newly transferred in) Elder Baldwin invited me to read the Book of Enos. From there, I couldn’t stop reading. Even though I still didn’t believe it, I couldn’t stop. I knew something was different about the Book of Mormon. I thought about it constantly. It strengthened my faith in a loving God.
Over the next few months, I did a deep dive into researching the Church of Jesus Christ, the positives and negatives. In doing so, in meeting the missionaries and following through on the commitments I made, in praying, in reading the Book of Mormon alongside the Bible, every single question I had was answered fully. The biggest questions such as the nature of God (I was never fully satisfied with descriptions of a triune God) were answered. The smallest questions I had were answered just the same. It was a miracle.
When I was finally blessed with the foundations of a testimony in this great latter-day work, it was not yet the end of my journey to baptism. Why? Because I was aware I would have to sacrifice many friendships and relationships I’d had with people my entire life. I knew there were people who meant a great deal to me who would never want anything to do with me again — and they didn’t. I had spiritual leaders in my life tell me I was turning my back on Jesus Christ and what He’d done for me. More than anything else, that hurt me deeply. I investigated and learned more of the Church because I love my Saviour so much. If I didn’t love and believe the Bible as much as I did, or have the foundations I had, I would never have believed the Book of Mormon.
A few weeks later, I realised something: Jesus Christ walked the walk to Calvary for me, the least I could do is walk the walk to the baptism font, and beyond, even if I had to do so alone, without the friends I’d had for decades. I did so. Every sacrifice I made to join the Church of my Lord Jesus Christ was far outweighed by the bounteous and sacred blessings He gave me.
It was a long journey which took very close to 10 months. But the walk through the valley took me to the truth, to the temple, to my beautiful wife, and closer to my Saviour, Jesus Christ.
I know this is His Church. I know He is the Saviour and Redeemer of mankind. I know God is our loving Heavenly Father. I know we can come closer to them by reading the scriptures. I know we can be blessed and come closer to them by living the covenants we make in the font and in the holy temple. This is the true Church of Jesus Christ.

When Gerald Lund returned from his missionary service, he had determined that he would rather work than go to college.
“I went to work in the construction business,” he explains. “After spending one week cleaning cement forms with a power brush, I realized this was not how I wanted to spend my life.”
He promptly enrolled in Brigham Young University, where he completed his bachelor’s and master’s degrees. His decision to go to college not only changed his life but also resulted in many years of teaching the gospel.
Gerald Lund started teaching seminary in Salt Lake City in 1965, beginning a 34-year career with the Church Educational System. In addition to his early years teaching seminary, he taught institute, served as an institute director, worked as a curriculum writer, and fulfilled a number of administrative assignments. He is also the author of many popular books and articles.

“What’s that book?”
Kaylan Miller was curious to see what her friend April Leach was reading, particularly because she was reading by flashlight.
“It’s called the Book of Mormon,” April replied. “It’s part of our scriptures.”
Kaylan already knew April, knew she was a good person and a good friend, knew she came from a good family, knew she and her family were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She and April had been close since they were in first grade at elementary school. Even though April moved away for a couple of years, “we were still friends,” Kaylan says.
Now April was back in Pebble Beach, California, and Kaylan was excited to see her. Their parents had agreed that Kaylan could stay over at April’s house. And April was comfortable enough with her friend that she did what she did every night before going to sleep—she read her scriptures by flashlight.
April, now 15 (so is Kaylan), explains: “When I was a little girl, I didn’t want to get out of bed to turn off the light, so I started reading in bed with a flashlight. I just never got out of the habit.”
Watching her from across the room, Kaylan was curious. “Read some of it to me, okay?”
And April did. She read some of her favorite verses of scripture out loud. The words—about the Savior, about faith, about prayer—left Kaylan feeling she had found a new source of light. She thought a lot about what April had read, about the book subtitled “Another Testament of Jesus Christ.”
A little while later April presented Kaylan with a gift—her very own copy of the Book of Mormon. April had written her testimony next to the title page inside. The reading continued, alone and together. They discussed stories and passages, trading favorite verses back and forth.
The light April now shared with Kaylan was much more than illumination from a flashlight. It was the friendly light of her love for the restored gospel and her love for the Lord Jesus Christ. And for Kaylan, that light continued to grow and grow.
“I felt at home with April and with her family,” she says. “I felt comfortable and natural with them. It was like a second home to me.” The rest of the family includes parents Michael and Jill and two brothers, Michael, 17, and Jason, 10.
“I noticed some special feelings between members of her family,” Kaylan explains. “They’re wonderful and genuine. They always made me feel like I belonged. They had a different atmosphere in their home than I had felt in any other home of any of my other friends. I guess that feeling helped the gospel and its message about families to make sense to me.”
April’s example also said a lot. “She’s different from most of the other kids I’ve known, too,” says Kaylan. “She’s always friendly and happy, but most of all she’s sincere and honest. I really like her. Her whole family’s example gave me hope for the kind of life that I want.”
“Kaylan began asking questions about the special feelings in our home and what caused them,” April explains. “I tried to explain why the family is so important to members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I suggested she talk to the missionaries.”
In the meantime, Kaylan kept reading the Book of Mormon and kept finding answers to many of her other questions about the Church. Though she already understood many things from her conversations with the Leach family, she listened intently as the missionaries taught her. She became more and more excited and wanted to join the Church. She talked to her parents, and they gave permission for her baptism.
That was more than a year ago. Today Kaylan is a strong member of the Church who is letting her own light shine, in more ways than one. She was chosen as a princess for the Pacific Grove Feast of the Lanterns, a festival with a pageant that reenacts a story about a Chinese princess and her sweetheart, who is a commoner.
The festival and pageant take place at night on a small beach at Pacific Grove. People come from miles around to join in the festivities, and long before the pageant begins the beach is crowded elbow to elbow with people carrying small, lighted paper lanterns. As darkness gathers, the beach is aglow with hundreds of multi-colored lights. Then the pageant begins, and Kaylan steps forward to play her part.
It is an enjoyable evening, and the lights are a big part of the show. When the pageant is over, fireworks burst and blaze in the darkened sky.
Kaylan talks about her friend April’s light and how it kindled her own. “Now I want my friends to know how much the gospel means to my life,” she says. “I want to share it with them, just like April shared it with me.”
It is a night alive with light, light much brighter than the flashlight by which April reads her scriptures. It is a night when there are many lantern bearers, each eager to share light with all who will receive it. It is a perfect night for April and Kaylan to remember the friendly light that they have shared with each other, the light of truth.
They know that it is a light that will grow “brighter and brighter until the perfect day” (D&C 50:24).

Our family recently acquired a personal computer, and I enthusiastically set about learning to use it. Having artistic interests, one thing that I found fascinating was a paint program. The first day I had great fun using circles and lines of varying sizes to create simple pictures. The magic of computers was mine!
A couple of days later, as I was exploring the various functions of this same program, I discovered a wealth of type styles and sizes that I could call up and reproduce on the screen. Then I found some preset designs and borders. Now I could make signs and posters. I had arrived!
Eventually, I found in the manual some detailed pictures that could be created with my program. I tried but found it impossible to reproduce them because of the clumsiness of drawing with the mouse attachment. I decided that I must lack some basic coordination gene and resolved to stick to what I already could do.
Then I learned about a command that would magnify an area of any picture so that it could be added to or taken from one small dot at a time. With this knowledge I finally, painstakingly created a picture that was the equal of any example in the manual.
I am still learning new ways to use my computer. But, more importantly, my experience with it has convinced me of the need to continue daily in learning new ways to make the gospel a living, directing force in my life.

I know all of this for myself. While recovering from surgery to remove two sizeable brain tumors, I experienced periods of melancholy and dismay from the emotional and mental impact of it all. I discovered that I was not as invincible as I once thought I was. Medication did not help, and a relapse or two brought additional despondency. I began to feel sorry for myself.

Then some wonderful things began to happen. Good friends and trusted Church leaders offered their support and understanding, and I began to listen to their counsel and accept their encouragement. Late one night as I shared my gloomy feelings with our youngest son, he said, “Well, Dad, I have always thought that happiness is a decision.” He is right.

I found myself increasingly expressing gratitude for all the blessings I still enjoyed. I discovered for myself that “this kind [of trial] goeth not out but by prayer and fasting” (Matthew 17:21).

I felt the strength, refreshing power, and love of the Savior. With Paul, I came to rejoice in the knowledge that tribulation, distress, and peril could not separate me from the love of Christ (see Romans 8:35).

A few weeks after I was baptized and confirmed, I was called to serve as the Primary secretary in the Valle Dorado Ward in Mexico. This was a surprise to me because I was new in the gospel, but I loved my Savior and wanted to serve.
I told my bishop that many other people could do the job better, but through serving I learned that the calling had been inspired. By being with the children in Primary, I learned the principles of the gospel, beautiful hymns, and the Articles of Faith. I loved the little ones too, and through them I met their parents.
But my greatest education came from working with the Primary president and her counselors. They patiently helped me, they forgave my mistakes, and little by little, I learned how to fulfill my calling. We worked together in the Primary for three years and became close friends.
When we were released, we were called to serve in Relief Society. As a result of the love we shared, we served together in unity for two more years. These sisters taught me to delegate responsibility and to allow others to learn to become leaders. We shared food storage, fasted for a purpose, and went to the temple together. They helped me become a faithful, dedicated, and loving leader. I feel obligated to share what I learned so other sisters will have the same kind of experience that I had working with the sisters who trained me.
Laura Viga D’Alva, Mexico

Thank you so much for putting in the Q&A on boyfriends and girlfriends in the September 2005 New Era! Last year I attended a middle school, and there was a lot of pressure on “going out.” After much consideration and prayer, I concluded that it was practically dating, and it was hard for me to stick to my standards when the other members of the Church around me didn’t agree. After reading your article I felt reassured that I had done the right thing. I am so grateful I kept my standards even when there was a lot of pressure to do otherwise. Thank you so much!Rachel D., Texas

At home in a hidden-away corner, I have a small black walking stick with an imitation silver handle. It once belonged to a distant relative. Why do I keep it for a period now spanning more than 70 years? There is a special reason. As a small boy I participated in a Christmas pageant in our ward. I was privileged to be one of the three Wise Men. With a bandanna about my head, Mother’s piano bench cover draped over my shoulder, and the black cane in my hand, I spoke my assigned lines: “Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him.” I vividly remember the feelings of my heart as the three of us “Wise Men” looked upward and saw a star, journeyed across the stage, found Mary with the young child Jesus, then fell down and worshipped Him and opened our treasures and presented gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

I especially liked the fact that we did not return to the evil Herod to betray the baby Jesus but obeyed God and departed another way.

The years have flown by, but the Christmas cane continues to occupy a special place in my home; and in my heart is a commitment to Christ.

Many years ago my twin brother and I left our home in Göteborg, Sweden, to serve the Lord as full-time missionaries in England. During our flight to London, numerous thoughts ran through my head. For one thing, my brother and I would have to separate in London, and for the first time in our lives we would not be together every day. But the thing that worried me most was that I didn’t know the English language well. At that time missionaries from Sweden did not receive language instruction or any other training; they were sent straight from home to the mission field. I thought of my twin brother, who was gifted in languages. My interests leaned more toward technical subjects, and for this reason I had not spent much time studying languages in school.
After I arrived in London and then finally in Birmingham, the headquarters of the England Central Mission, the mission president and his wife greeted me with huge smiles and all possible warmth. Everyone I met at the mission office was happy and enthusiastic and spoke with me about things such as study guides, tracting, companions, and so forth. But I could not understand much because their language was new and foreign.
Despite the kindness of the people around me, I felt overwhelmed. How could I ever testify of the gospel in this strange language? I spent much of that first night on my knees, asking Heavenly Father why He had sent me here and if there had possibly been a mistake.
The following day an assistant to the mission president showed me a scripture—Ether 12:27. I got out my Swedish Book of Mormon and read: “If men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them” (Ether 12:27).
If anyone had a weakness, I did. Questions arose in my mind: Do you believe what is written in this verse? If so, do you have the courage to exercise the faith required? And can you humble yourself before the Lord so that your weakness can become your strength?
As a struggling young missionary, I thought back on this experience and realized that because I had received a confirmation from the Lord that the Book of Mormon is true, then what I read in the book of Ether was also true. I knelt in humble prayer before my Heavenly Father and expressed my inner feelings about my mission call and my language weakness. I promised Him that I would get up early every morning to study and memorize the 70 pages of lessons and scriptures we were to use to teach the people. I told Him I had faith that He, in return, would help me learn the language so that I could testify of Him and of His Son.
Early every morning thereafter, I prayed to Heavenly Father and said, “Here I am; let us start.” In a relatively short time I was able to testify that the scripture in Ether is true. My ability to speak English—a weakness when I first started serving my mission—became a strength to me.
This experience has been a blessing to me all of my life. Many times I have thought new Church callings were beyond my abilities. Then the Spirit has testified to me and reminded me of the experience I had as a young missionary in England. With great gratitude these many years I have felt strength radiating from those words that are recorded in the book of Ether. Through the power of the Spirit, they can give each of us strength, guidance, and hope.

When I was a boy growing up in a home with a widowed mother, I heard a story that touched me and that has had a lot more meaning since I have had the blessing of having a son of my own.
A youngster was assigned by his father to see to the moving of a large rock. He tugged and pushed, and he lifted and struggled without avail. Some friends were enlisted, but together they could not move it. Reluctantly he reported to his father that he could not budge the rock.
“Have you done all you could?” asked the father.
“Yes,” said the little boy.
“Have you tried everything?” persisted the father.
“Yes,” said the boy. “I’ve tried everything.”
“No, son, you haven’t,” said his dad. “You haven’t asked me.”

In the jungles of Indonesia dwells a tiny member of the deer family called a mouse deer. Its Indonesian name is Kancil (CAN-chill). Because it is so tiny—no higher than two or three feet—and because it provides a delicious snack for such jungle inhabitants as the tiger, crocodile, or panther, it has to rely on its intelligence to outsmart these large predators in order to survive.
One afternoon while ambling down a jungle trail to the river Ciliwong (CHEE-lee-wong) to quench her thirst, Kancil overheard two crocodiles talking quietly together.
“Wait here, my darling,” Buaya (crocodile) whispered with clacking jaws. “When Kancil comes down to drink, I’ll grab her and we’ll share a tender snack. Just wait and see how I trick her.”
Buaya’s girl friend floated on the Ciliwong, her beady eyes and nostrils barely above the water. She was terribly hungry and could hardly wait for her snack.
Buaya waddled up onto the shore, tucked his feet under him, and hid his long tale-telling snout with the razor-sharp teeth underneath a pile of rotting leaves. He was sure he looked like a fallen tree trunk.
No sooner was he settled than Kancil stepped daintily into view, her large eyes rolling from left to right, her short tail trembling nervously.
Buaya’s mouth watered, and he worked even harder at looking like an uprooted tree.
“Oh, my!” Kancil called out loud. “That tree must have fallen down during the night. It wasn’t here yesterday!”
“Let’s see now …” Kancil said, pondering. “If you really are a dead tree, turn around. But if you are a crocodile, lie still!”
At her first words Buaya started to move, then he realized his mistake. Too late! Kancil quickly retreated into the jungle, while Buaya’s girl friend laughed. “Fooled by a dumb mouse deer,” she sneered. “I’m going to find myself another boyfriend!” She dived into the river and Buaya never saw her again.

Brett Hellbusch, 18, of the Denver Colorado North Stake started thinking seriously about a mission when some of his older friends started leaving. “A mission is something you really ought to do,” he says, “but you actually have to be ready and worthy to go.”
Part of Brett’s preparation has included sharing the gospel now. He frequently goes with the full-time missionaries to teach, and three of his friends have been baptized and confirmed in the past few years. From these experiences, he has witnessed the effects of the gospel of Jesus Christ in people’s lives. “You can see how much happier they are,” he says. “You can tell that their lives are better because of it.”
These and other experiences have also built up his motivation for serving a mission. “You have to come to a point where you really want to go, not just because your parents want you to,” he says. “Have that desire yourself, and work for it. Go on a mission for the Lord, yourself, and the people you’re helping to convert.”
The Savior is at the center of his desire to serve a mission. “Because of Him, you can return to live with Heavenly Father,” he says. “He atoned for all your sins, so the least you can do is go on a mission.”

Everything that summer seemed to be a dream or some kind of miracle. My awareness of how much families and gospel principles mean to me came so clear one week in July. This week wasn’t a normal one for the Clarks, Carters, and Tanners. It was an unforgettable family reunion in Hawaii.
In Hawaii there are many great places to go and things to see. My fondest memory is of Diamond Head because it not only opened my eyes to the beauty of the island of Oahu, but also opened my eyes to eternal beauty.
The entire hike was a quarter of a mile long, but you’d never know it the way it seemed to stretch. When my cousins and I began the hike, all we could see was a path that seemed to last a lifetime. We reached an area where some people were stopped along the path saying, “I can’t believe we are doing this. I really see no point in going on any farther.” After I heard this, I began to doubt myself, but I still kept walking.
Next, we reached this long, dark tunnel. My cousins and I went inside. We could hardly see. The only way we could get through this dark tunnel was to hold to an iron railing. We became excited when we could see, in the distance, the end of this long tunnel. We were so happy because we thought our hike was over.
When we reached the end of the tunnel, one of my cousins screamed. There before our eyes was a flight of steps carved out of the mountain. All I could think was, I can’t believe I am actually doing this.
Then my uncle turned to me and said quietly, “I’ve been here before. I know that it is worth it.” As I walked up the steps with aching legs, I thought about his gentle words, “I know that it is worth it.”
When we finally reached the top of the crater, I was completely overwhelmed at the sight, a panoramic view of the island.
As I stood there, I thought how the hike was like our earthly lives. We begin by seeing how far we have to go to become like Christ. We are overwhelmed, but we keep going forward. At times we may listen to people say, “I don’t see the point of going farther.” Even then, we continue through the darkness holding the iron rod. We may think our trials are over, and we find we only have more challenges ahead. We press on, yielding to the words, “You can make it. It is worth it.” When we finally reach our goal, we can look back and know it was worth it.
Since hiking Diamond Head, I have realized our challenges can make us stronger. I have since centered my goals around more spiritual things, such as attending early-morning seminary every day. We can all succeed if we have the faith and courage to keep going through the hard times in our lives.

1834–1914
“God was with me.”
As a girl, she had a dream about missionaries teaching her family in Italy.
When she was a teenager, missionaries taught her family and baptized them.
One day when the missionaries were there, an angry mob came. Marie bravely held up her Bible and told them to leave. And they did!
She and her family sailed across the ocean and crossed the plains to be with the Saints.
Marie C. Guild autobiography, p. 15, Church History Library, Salt Lake City, Utah.