Gospel Story Finder

Indeed, Leon wanted not only to be like the missionaries but to be a missionary himself. His parents were not pleased with his decision to be baptized nor his desire to serve a mission. “My family thought the Church was something bad, but I knew everything would be okay,” Leon recalls. From the time he started racing, Leon had been saving his earnings for a car. “I still had all that money,” Leon says. “It had been to buy a car, but then I realized that money was saved for something else. There are a lot more important things than a car.”
Taking two years off during his prime racing years may affect Leon’s professional career. He feared telling his teammates of his decision to serve, knowing how shocked they would be.
In addition, all young men in Slovenia are required to serve in the military, so Leon’s desire to serve a mission had to wait while he fulfilled his military obligation. But Leon had many opportunities to do missionary work and to have others look to his example. “Since becoming a member of the Church, I have prayed in the morning and before going to bed,” he explains. “When I went into the military, I slept in a room with 30 people. It was hard to kneel down and pray. But I felt I had to do this no matter what the circumstances. The first day I asked the guy in the lower bunk if I could borrow his bed, and he said, ‘Yeah, sure, but why do you need it?’ I told him, ‘I pray. Could I use your bed for a few minutes?’ He said, ‘OK, no problem.’ So I knelt down and prayed, and the room went from being very loud to very quiet. I had a lot of opportunities in the military to talk about the gospel because when I started to pray every day, I became an example for my friends. They saw that I was different. They started asking me, ‘What are you doing and what are those books you are reading?’”
Following his military service, Leon was called to serve a mission. He is the third missionary to serve from Slovenia, where the Church is very new. Missionaries have been serving in Slovenia only since 1991. Slovenia is part of the Austria Vienna South Mission.
In October 1997 Leon Bergant received his mission call to serve in Croatia, also part of the Austria Vienna South Mission, and he entered the missionary training center in England on 17 January 1998.
Today Leon still rides a bicycle—but instead of wearing the colorful uniform of the Slovene team, he wears a white shirt, a tie, and dark pants. His purpose, too, is different; instead of improving his racing times, he is finding those interested in the Lord’s Church and helping them improve their lives. And rather than collecting a glistening trophy at the end, he will take home eternal treasures—a stronger testimony of the Lord Jesus Christ and prized memories of his experiences in sharing gospel truth, the truth Leon himself sought and fortunately found.

Amanda stood at the front window of the lighthouse keeper’s cottage and searched the angry white-capped sea again. There was still no sign of her father’s whaleboat. High waves crashed against the rocks, sending white spray high into the air before the wind snatched it away.
If only the storm hadn’t come up, she thought, Father would have been back with the doctor by now.
Baby Jonathan cried fretfully, and Amanda heard Mother’s soft, soothing voice as she comforted him. Then Mother called her name.
Amanda turned and hurried into the bedroom. “Is Jonathan any better?” she asked hopefully.
“His fever is still high,” Mother answered with a worried frown. She looked worn-out from her all-night vigil. Now it was late afternoon. As she replaced the damp cloth on Jonathan’s forehead, he closed his eyes for a moment. “Please bring me a basin of fresh water, Amanda. The cool cloths seem to help.”
Amanda hurried to the kitchen and drew a pan of water from the pump. A sudden gust of wind drove rain against the windowpanes.
The storm is getting worse, Amanda thought. But father is a strong man; he can row for miles without getting tired. And with the doctor’s help, they will make it safely. They just have to!
Amanda carried the basin of water into the bedroom and set it on the low stool beside Jonathan’s bed. “Father will be here soon,” she said, attempting a cheerful tone.
“If only this storm would pass,” Mother said. She wrung out a cloth in the cold water and wiped Jonathan’s flushed face, then laid the cloth on his forehead. A moment later Jonathan closed his eyes and fell into a restless sleep. Amanda tiptoed from the room and closed the door softly.
The cottage seemed extra dark and dismal. Amanda put another log on the fire, to make the room more cheerful. Father and Dr. Benton will be hungry when they get here, she thought. Mother had planned to make stew for supper, so Amanda went into the kitchen and rekindled the fire in the cookstove.
Rain drummed on the roof, and the wind howled around the cottage. Amanda tried not to think about the storm as she prepared the meat and vegetables and put the stew on to simmer. Then she mixed a big batch of corn bread and put it into the oven to bake.
Time passed slowly, but finally the corn bread was out of the oven and cooling, and the stew was thick and rich. The mouth-watering smells made Amanda hungry. It was long past suppertime, and her father still had not come. Amanda lit the lamps and added another log to the fire in the fireplace. She opened the bedroom door quietly and entered with a lighted candle when she heard Jonathan whimpering. “Supper is ready,” she whispered. “Shall I bring you something to eat?”
Mother set the flickering candle on the nightstand and shook her head. “I must have dozed. Is your father back with the doctor yet?” she asked as she bent over the baby.
“No,” Amanda answered. “And it’s almost dark.”
Suddenly Mother put her hand to her face and gasped. “The beacon! Oh, Amanda, how could I have forgotten! The beacon must be lit!”
“Do you want me to stay with Jonathan?” Amanda asked.
Her mother shook her head. “You will have to light the beacon tonight. I can’t leave him.”
Fear tingled down Amanda’s spine at the thought of climbing the circular staircase to the lighthouse tower, more than fifty feet above the ground. When father became lighthouse keeper last spring, she had tried to climb up and watch him light the lamps. But she could never force herself to climb to the top of the tower. “I—I can’t,” Amanda whispered.
“You must!” her mother insisted. “Your father’s life and the lives of many others may depend on that light tonight. Be sure to trim the wicks and polish the reflectors before you fill the reservoirs of the lamps with oil and light them. Go quickly, dear. You must not waste another minute!”
Amanda hurried to the kitchen and got Father’s lantern. Her hand trembled as she lit it. Then she wrapped her shawl tightly around her head and shoulders and stepped out into the storm. The wind tore at her skirt as she started up the long path to the lighthouse. She leaned into the wind and struggled up the hill. When Amanda reached the lighthouse at last, she opened the door and quickly stepped inside. It was a relief to be out of the storm.
Amanda held her lantern high. In the middle of the floor the circular staircase disappeared up into the darkness above. Amanda felt like she was standing at the bottom of a deep well. Her heart beat wildly.
“This time I must climb to the top,” she said as she grasped the handrail and started to climb. Her footsteps echoed hollowly on the iron steps as she went round and round, climbing higher and higher. A wave of dizziness swept over her. Amanda clung tightly to the cold handrail and waited for the feeling to pass. She wanted desperately to run down the steps and back to the warm, cozy cottage.
“You must light the beacon!” she told herself sternly. “Somewhere out there in that awful storm Father may be watching for the light to guide him home.” She tried to force herself to let go of the handrail, but her fingers seemed to be frozen in place.
“Please, Heavenly Father, help me to find the courage to go on,” she prayed. Slowly her fingers loosened their grip. She took a step up, then another.
When she reached the top, Amanda didn’t even take time to breathe a sigh of relief. Quickly she set to work trimming the wicks of the nine lamps and polishing the big shiny reflectors. She found the can of oil for the lamps, then carefully filled and lit each one.
Taking her lantern, Amanda slowly wound her way down the staircase and out into the storm again. When she reached the porch, she stopped and looked back at the long fingers of light reaching out over the raging water. She wondered how far it could be seen in the storm. “The beacon is lit,” she said softly when she reached her mother.
Mother put her arm around Amanda. “You were very brave, dear. I know how much you dread heights. Go and have something to eat now.”
Amanda had finished supper and washed the dishes when she heard footsteps on the back porch. She rushed to open the door. “Father!” she cried. “And Dr. Benton! I’m so glad you’re safe! I was afraid you were lost in the storm.”
“We were until we saw the beacon,” Father said.
The two men took off their oilskins and left them on the porch. They warmed themselves by the fire for just a moment, then hurried in to see Jonathan. Amanda curled up in a chair by the fireplace to wait.
When she opened her eyes again, it was morning and her father was shaking her gently. “I thought you would like to know that you saved three lives last night,” he said. “Jonathan’s fever just broke. Dr. Benton told me he is going to get well.”

Brian, a Latter-day Saint boy, attended a school run by another church. One day the children were being very noisy as the teacher tried to read from the Bible. She closed the Bible and said, “No wonder there are no prophets on the earth today. You children are so naughty that you wouldn’t listen to them anyway.” Brian had an important choice to make. He could remain silent, or he could tell his teacher what he believed. He gathered his courage, quietly raised his hand, and said, “Teacher, there is a prophet on the earth today. He lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the United States.” The teacher was very interested in this information and asked him to tell her more about his church. Just like Brian and Helaman’s stripling warriors, you can have a testimony that can give you the courage to choose the right. So, as it says in the scriptures, “Be of good courage, and do it” (Ezra 10:4).

Illustration by G. Bjorn Thorkelson
Picture 3,000 missionaries gathered in a large room. Two thousand nine hundred ninety-nine of them are talking excitedly and looking toward the same spot in the room. Some are on their tiptoes. Some are jumping to snatch quick glances over those on tiptoes. Some are standing on folding chairs. One missionary is sitting on a folding chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, head bowed.
That might not be exactly what happened, but that’s how I remember it. That was how I felt. I was that one missionary.
As you picture the scene, you might think I was lonely or sad. Actually, I was experiencing one of the happiest moments of my life—a moment that I have been glad to relive many times since then.
I was at the missionary training center in Provo, Utah, preparing to serve as a full-time missionary in the Ecuador Quito Mission. President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), who was then First Counselor in the First Presidency, came to speak to all the missionaries in the MTC.
It was after the meeting that the hubbub began. I noticed that people weren’t filing to the doors, so I asked another elder what was going on.
“President Hinckley’s grandson is here at the MTC,” he said, “and President Hinckley just left the stand to give him a hug!”
With that explanation, the elder stepped onto his chair to get a better view, exclaiming, “Wow! Wouldn’t it be great to have President Hinckley as a grandpa?”
I loved and respected President Hinckley, and I had been inspired by his message that day. But in that moment I was struck by a thought that led me to sit on my chair rather than stand on it. In the middle of all that cheerful enthusiasm, I sat still and thought, “I’m sure it would be great to have President Hinckley as a grandpa. But I wouldn’t trade my Grandpa Felt or my Grandpa West for him.” I lifted my head and felt the warm embrace of gratitude as I reflected on my heritage, my family.
Then another thought came, more powerful than the first: “Besides, I am a son of God.” I knew that I, a grandson of a dentist and a factory supervisor, had just as much worth as a grandson of a prophet. Why? The two of us had the same Father in Heaven.
The other 2,999 missionaries eventually walked toward the doors of that large room. I joined them, more prepared to serve the Lord than I had been a few minutes earlier.

The last year of World War II was the very worst for Holland. The Nazis took absolutely everything. Grace couldn’t go to school. There was no coal to heat their house. Grace and her family had to eat tulip bulbs to keep from starving. They tasted horrible! Worst of all, Dad was still a prisoner of war.
But hope was in the air. People said the Nazis were losing the war. And in May of 1945, the Nazis surrendered. Holland was finally free again! People celebrated in the streets. Now Grace could go back to school. There were no soldiers to be afraid of.
Best of all, one day when Grace and her brothers were walking back from school, they saw that the flag of Holland was flying in front of their home. They knew that could mean only one thing.
“Dad’s home!” shouted Heber.
Grace and her brothers ran inside. Grace threw her arms around Dad and gave him a big hug. He hugged her back tightly. It was so wonderful to have Dad home.
Soon after that, packages of food, clothes, and medicine began arriving in Holland. The Church leaders in Salt Lake City sent a lot of supplies to help people after the war. Grace even got a new dress! She had worn the same dress for five years, so she was very happy to have a new one.
For the first time in years, Grace had enough to eat. The mission presidency and the government in Holland decided to start a potato project to grow more food. Church members planted lots of potatoes in nearby fields. By fall they would have thousands of potatoes to eat.
“Look!” Grace told Dad, pointing to a sprouting potato plant. “We’ll never go hungry again!”
Dad nodded but didn’t smile. He said, “I was talking to President Zappey. He told me that the Latter-day Saints in Germany are still starving, just like we were. They are not getting help from the government like us.” Dad put his arm around Grace’s shoulders. “President Zappey has asked if we would give our potatoes to the German Saints.”
“Give up our potatoes!” Grace cried. But the Nazis were from Germany! “They might be Latter-day Saints, Dad, but they’re still Germans.”
“I know it’s not easy,” Dad said. “But they are also children of God. He loves them too. I forgave them for making me a prisoner. The Lord can help us all forgive.”
Grace looked up at Dad. He was the bravest person she knew, but she didn’t know if she had the courage to forgive like him. Then she remembered one of her teachers in school during the war. Her teacher had said that not all Germans were Nazis, and not all Nazi soldiers were bad. And now the girls and boys in Germany were starving, just like Grace had been.
Grace took a deep breath. “I understand,” she said. “Let’s give them our potatoes.”
Dad hugged her and smiled. “You are such a brave girl. This is a hard thing to do. But we are disciples of Jesus Christ, and so are our German brothers and sisters.”
Grace smiled. The angry feelings in her heart melted, and she felt calm and warm. She could forgive the Germans. And Jesus could help her love them too.
Latter-day Saints in Holland gave 140,000 pounds (70 tons) of potatoes and 180,000 pounds (90 tons) of herring to the German Latter-day Saints. Later, in 1953, the German Saints sent supplies to Church members in Holland after a huge flood.

When I served with my husband as he presided over a mission, we went to the airport to pick up a large group of missionaries one morning. One particular young man caught our eye. He seemed sad, weighed down, almost distraught. We watched him carefully that afternoon. By evening, this young man made a belated confession, and his leaders determined that he needed to return home. Although we were very sad that he had been dishonest and had not repented before coming on his mission, on the way to the airport we sincerely and lovingly praised him for having the courage to come forward, and we pledged to stay in close contact with him.

This great young man was blessed to have wonderful parents, great priesthood leaders, and a supportive, loving ward. After a year of working hard to fully repent and partake of the Savior’s Atonement, he was able to return to our mission. It is difficult for me to describe the feelings of joy we felt as we picked up this young man from the airport. He was full of the Spirit, happy, confident before the Lord, and anxious to fulfill a faithful mission. He became an outstanding missionary, and later my husband and I had the privilege of attending his temple sealing.

Andy stood on the outside of the circle of bigger boys. He tried to see what they were doing. He jumped up and down until the things in his pockets almost fell out.
If only he were taller. If only he were older. Oh, how he wanted to play baseball with them!
Soon the circle of boys broke up. They ran off to the park, and Andy and his little dog, Katy, were left standing alone on the sidewalk.
Andy and Katy ran along behind the bigger boys.
“Wait for me!” Andy called. “Please wait for me!”
But the boys did not hear him. They ran on ahead.
“Their legs are longer than ours, Katy,” Andy told his dog. “We’ll have to hurry to catch up.”
Andy and Katy ran until their legs were tired, and then they slowed down.
A girl on a bike passed them.
“She goes fast because she has wheels,” Andy explained.
A tall man passed them.
“Look how long his legs are,” Andy told Katy.
A big dog ran past them.
“Wow!” exclaimed Andy. “That dog can run fast!”
Andy and Katy kept going. They saw a red box kite up in the air. High over a house, they also saw a blue kite.
Then they saw a boy about Andy’s size sitting on the curb. His kite string was in a tangle, and a torn kite lay on the sidewalk beside him.
“What happened?” Andy asked the boy.
“My kite got caught in the wires and the paper tore,” the boy answered. “I bought this kite as a present for my brother. I was just trying it out to see if it would fly all right.”
“Did it fly all right?” Andy asked.
“Until it hit the wires, it flew very well,” the boy said. “I guess I shouldn’t have tried to fly it. I should have let my brother fly it himself.”
Andy sat down next to the boy. “I have somewhere very important to go,” Andy explained, “but maybe I can help you first.”
Andy reached into his pocket and pulled out some tape and a pair of tiny scissors with rounded points.
“My name is Andy, what’s your name?” Andy asked the boy.
“Chris.”
“Okay, Chris, hold this paper on the stick right here, and I’ll tape it for you,” Andy instructed.
Together the boys taped the kite so it had no holes.
“I think the kite will be all right now,” Andy explained.
“But I don’t think I should fly it anymore,” Chris answered sadly.
“I have two kites at home,” Andy said. “One is in the shape of a fish and the other is red. I’ll go get both of them.”
Andy and Katy ran home and soon came back with the kites. Chris was waiting for them on the curb.
“Here,” Andy offered, “you can fly my red kite.”
“I’ll fly it in the park,” Chris said. “Then it won’t get caught in any wires.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Andy exclaimed, “because that’s where I am headed.”
“What are you going to do in the park?” Chris asked.
“I’m going to play outfield for my brother and his friends,” Andy replied, “if they’ll let me. Sometimes when they don’t have enough big players, they let me play.”
“That’s how my brother is,” Chris said.
When they arrived at the park, Andy looked at the ball players. “See those boys over there? That’s my brother and his friends.”
“I can see my brother playing first base,” said Chris. “You go ahead, Andy. I know you want to play ball.”
“I’ll help you get the kites set up first,” Andy answered.
As they put the strings on the kites, Katy ran through the grass sniffing at all the smells of the park. The wind was stronger now.
“You don’t have to help me anymore, Andy,” Chris told him.
“I know,” Andy replied. “I just want to see how the fish flies in this wind.”
So Andy let out the string and ran with the fish kite.
Chris let out his string and ran with the red kite.
Andy’s fish climbed up into the air. Then the fish dived and dipped back down. Andy pulled on the string and ran faster.
The giant fish went up, up, up—higher than his head, higher than the trees.
Andy let out more and more string. The fish went up until it seemed to be as high as the little white clouds that the wind was pushing across the sky.
Andy looked around for Chris. He saw him not very far away with the red kite high in the air.
Andy heard his brother call, “Hey, Andy, do you want to play right field?”
“No, thanks,” Andy called back. “I can’t now. The wind is just right for flying kites.”
Chris smiled at Andy. “It’s a good day for flying kites,” he laughed.
“It’s perfect,” Andy agreed. “Let’s do this again tomorrow.”
Andy looked at his new friend. Chris was the same size as Andy. Just the right size!

When I was called as president of my Beehive class, the responsibility of representing my class at the monthly Bishopric Youth Committee meeting really scared me. I was worried about speaking in front of the whole group. I was afraid I wouldn’t know what to do or what to say, and I was afraid of being the youngest one there, but there was no way out.
The night before the meeting I sat in my room worrying, until I remembered my teachers saying that the answer to any problem could be found in the scriptures. I grabbed my scriptures, but I had no idea where to look, so I checked the Topical Guide under “fear.” There I found a verse that seemed to save my life. It was the last part of Doctrine and Covenants 38:30: “… if ye are prepared ye shall not fear.” [D&C 38:30]
No scripture has ever had such a powerful impact on me as that one did. I thought to myself, “Am I prepared?” Yes, I was. I knew what we would talk about, and I knew my adviser would be there to help me. I knew the Lord would be with me, and I didn’t need to fear, because I was prepared.

Just four months after moving into this new ward, Dad fell and broke his hip while visiting a family member in St. George in southern Utah. This accident required surgery and an extended stay in a care facility 250 miles (400 km) from his new home. When we told his ministering brother about the incident, he immediately contacted the Primary president, who started a letter-writing and picture-coloring campaign with the Primary children and other ward members. They sent him mail and coloring pages almost every day. The abundance of attention led the workers at the St. George nursing home to ask if he was some sort of celebrity, as they had never had a patient receive so much mail. Since this was during the height of COVID, he couldn’t have visitors, so this daily written interaction was a gift of service beyond description.

I learned about the power and blessings of the priesthood at an unfortunate time. A few years ago, when my little brother was 14, he wrecked on his motorcycle and snapped his leg in half. My dad called and told me they were taking him to the hospital. I had a sick feeling in my stomach as I rushed to the hospital. When I got there, I saw one of my uncles. He told me how bad the accident was.
Fearing what I would see, I opened the door where my brother was and stepped into the room. I took one step, closed my eyes, and was instantly at peace. Just as I will never forget the sick feeling I had, I will never forget the feeling of peace and comfort that came over me. I recognized the feeling—it was the Spirit.
I then heard my father speaking. He and my uncle were giving my brother a priesthood blessing. He humbly blessed his son in the name of Jesus Christ to be OK, to heal, to have his leg work properly again.
After the blessing, everyone was quiet for a while. I knew at that moment that I had to live worthy to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood and be able to perform blessings for my future children.
When we gathered in the hall outside my brother’s room, my parents started to discuss what they should do. They debated whether to leave Mexico to take him to a doctor in the United States or to have the surgery performed here. Whatever option they felt was best for my brother, I knew he had already received the best attention he could receive. He had received a blessing by two men holding the priesthood, so no matter what my parents decided, my brother was going to be fine.
They decided to stay in Mexico for the operation. Doctors put a plate and 10 screws into my brother’s leg. It healed well, and a few months later he joined a football team. The blessing was fulfilled just as my dad had said.
I know the priesthood is the power and authority of God given to men. What a great gift He has given us.

September 23, 1846—on the western bank of the Mississippi RiverTremendous thundershower today. The rain came down in torrents, drenching everything. We have only a tent to shelter us. We left Nauvoo in haste a few days ago. Our carefully packed belongings were scattered by the mobs looking for firearms. We have little left. It was not hard to leave the deserted city, but it breaks my heart to see our beloved temple just across the river—so near, yet unreachable. Papa is still grieving. As Brother Joseph’s bodyguard, he feels he should have somehow prevented the martyrdom. If he would just make music again on his fife, I am sure my heart would not be so heavy.

“I encouraged my brothers and sisters to participate in a bike-a-thon for cancer research. We also did it to remember our friend Stan Miller. He died last year of leukemia. We rode around Rossmoor Park, and our sponsors donated money for every mile we rode. Among us we earned $250 for the hospital. When we got done, I felt good. I want to do it every year.”
Kacie SeamonsLong Beach California East Stake

Athena Dayley, a senior at the American High School, is often the translator for the Young Women. She finds it challenging but fun. “It is so neat to be able to talk to someone in another language,” Athena says, “but translating at church is really hard, and I get flustered at times and can’t remember what is being said or comprehend the meaning of what I’m translating. All I’m doing is parroting words.”
But the youth have discovered that sometimes spiritual moments transcend the language barrier.
“I seldom cry at movies,” Athena says, “but at girls’ camp the Spirit was so strong that even if I couldn’t understand the words, I couldn’t help but have tears in my eyes.”

Dario Gonzalez of Montevideo, Uruguay, understands that there are priesthood callings—specific assignments or “jobs” that come from the bishop and other priesthood leaders. Dario is 16 and a priest, and his callings include home teaching with his dad and serving as first assistant in his priests quorum.
But Dario also understands that there is one calling every priesthood bearer has—the call to serve whenever and wherever possible. It’s a call to follow the Savior’s example in every part of life.
Be dependable.
When it comes to specific assignments, Dario is someone you can count on. “He’s a good home teaching companion and shows real concern for our families,” says his dad. “He always helps remind me when it’s time to go.”
It’s the same with his quorum leadership role. Dario may be the only active priest in his branch. But he realizes a quorum leadership calling means more than conducting meetings and making assignments. He not only visits other priests to encourage them, but he works with the deacons and teachers too, visiting the inactive and offering friendship and encouragement.
Then there’s that general calling to serve, the one every priesthood bearer has. That’s why you’ll find Dario working alongside other priesthood bearers—young and old—to help put a roof on a member’s house, or to build a bathroom for one of the widows, or to help a family move into their new home.
That general calling is also why you will find Dario grocery shopping for the nonmember widow down the street. Or taking care of the children in a family while their mother is in the hospital. All this takes time, but, Dario explains, “I feel good; I don’t feel forced into it. I still have time for study and for my friends. Besides, I go with my friends in the priesthood to do many of these things.”
Follow the Savior.
In many ways, Dario is an ordinary guy. He loves soccer, volleyball, and track. Dario is also quite modest, and getting him to talk about his priesthood service is not easy. Ask him what striving to magnify his callings has done for him, and he searches for words. Then he simply says, “I feel closer to Christ by trying to follow his example.”

Hsieh’s road to that goal was long and arduous. He attended a Catholic seminary in Wuhan for four years. Then he studied at a Catholic university in the capital city of Beijing [Peking]. A year later, the communists took over the city, and Hsieh escaped to Shanghai, where he attended the Aurora Jesuit University. When the communist forces invaded Shanghai, he moved to the Catholic seminary in Hong Kong. Then, because of the political situation, the seminary was transferred to Macao. While there, Hsieh was ordained a priest in the Catholic church.
Following his ordination, he was assigned to Rome, Italy, where he studied Italian, Latin, and law for four years. Next he moved to Paris, France, where he studied French, Greek, Hebrew, English, Spanish, and German so that he could better understand the original texts and the various translations of the Bible. He wanted to learn all he could about the Savior.
Finally, in 1967, Hsieh’s original desire to teach his people about Jesus Christ became a reality. Cardinal Yu Ping, president of Fu Jen Catholic University in Taipei, invited him to become a member of the faculty as a professor of philosophy and French. In this assignment, Hsieh began to share his growing testimony of Jesus Christ.

I am convinced that rain is a blessing—and especially so after a recent missionary experience.
One afternoon while working in our area, my companion, Elder Ntege, and I suddenly found ourselves in a heavy rainstorm. While standing under our umbrella, discussing how quickly the storm might pass, we felt several times the Spirit whisper instructions for us to continue walking—and with a strong prompting that there were people waiting for us along the way. After a short distance we saw a young mother protecting herself against the rain in an unfinished house. We approached her. Upon seeing us enter, she was amazed to see two young men dressed in white shirts and ties walking in such a heavy rain. We presented a short message—one that we usually share about the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ—and we bore our testimonies strongly. She said to us, “I am happy to meet you in this rain. Your testimony is strong, and I want to learn more together with my family.” The next day we went to her house and met with her large family of eight people who are now being taught the gospel and who continue to progress in their knowledge of Jesus Christ.
“Then shall we know, if we follow on to know the Lord: his going forth is prepared as the morning; and he shall come unto us as the rain” (Hosea 6:3).

My family and I live in Annaberg-Buchholz, which, before 1990, was in the Communist-controlled German Democratic Republic (GDR).
In those days, government authorities would not allow LDS magazines into the country, so we could not obtain copies of the German-language Der Stern.
However, Church members living in West Germany were allowed to send books to GDR Latter-day Saints through a Church book club. It was a personal sacrifice for the West German Saints, who had to pay all the costs involved. Each month, my family received a wonderful Church-related book that helped bring us closer to the gospel.
Eventually, thanks to the cooperation developed between the First Presidency and officials of the GDR government, restrictions were lifted, and we could subscribe to Der Stern. That was a time of great joy! My family and I were so grateful to receive this wonderful treasure.
In every issue there is something of value for each family member. The addresses and articles by the Brethren provide us with much spiritual strength and help us in our daily tasks.
I am especially interested in reports of Saints living in other parts of the world. Knowing that Saints everywhere try to walk in the way of the gospel helps me hold to the iron rod.
Monika MiecznikowskiAnnaberg-Buchholz Ward, Dresden Germany Stake

Some years ago my wife, Harriet, and I had a memorable experience in which we saw this promise fulfilled. We were in West Africa, a beautiful part of the world where the Church is growing and the Latter-day Saints are delightful. However, West Africa also has many challenges. In particular, I was sorrowed by the poverty that I saw. In the cities there is high unemployment, and families often struggle to provide for their daily needs and for their safety. It broke my heart to know that many of our precious members of the Church live in such deprivation. But I also learned that these fine members help each other to lighten their heavy burdens.

We eventually arrived at one of our meetinghouses near a large city. But instead of finding a people burdened and absorbed by darkness, we discovered a joyful people who were radiating with light! The happiness they felt for the gospel was contagious and lifted our spirits. The love they expressed for us was humbling. Their smiles were genuine and infectious.

I remember wondering at the time if there could possibly be a happier people on the face of the planet. Even though these dear Saints were surrounded by difficulties and trials, they were filled with light!

The meeting began, and I started to speak. But soon the power went out in the building, and we were left in complete darkness.

For a while I could hardly see anyone in the congregation, but I could see and feel the brilliant and beautiful smiles of our Saints. Oh, how I loved being with these wonderful people!

The darkness in the chapel continued, and so I sat next to my wife and waited for the power to be restored. As we waited, something remarkable happened.

A few voices began singing one of the hymns of the Restoration. And then others joined in. And then more. Soon, a sweet and overwhelming chorus of voices filled the chapel.

These members of the Church did not need hymnbooks; they knew every word of every hymn they sang. And they sang one song after another with an energy and spirit that touched my soul.

Eventually, the lights sparked back on and bathed the room with light. Harriet and I looked at each other, our cheeks wet with tears.

In the midst of great darkness, these beautiful, wonderful Saints had filled this Church building and our souls with light.

It was a profoundly moving moment for us—one Harriet and I will never forget.

My mum’s relationship with me skyrocketed when I said, “I want to spend more time with you, but I don’t know what to do or when to do it.” Playing board games happens to be our favorite pastime. So we set aside a time together to play, laugh, and make memories. When you are open with your parents, eventually they become your best companions. You will be able to talk to them about anything, and you will be sure of an honest answer. That is the sign of a mature relationship.
Ephraim S., age 15, New South Wales, Australia

Composite photo illustration by Mike Boyland/iStock/Thinkstock and Oleksiy Fedorov/Hemera/Thinkstock
At the age of 23, I was called as a Relief Society president in our married student ward. I remember the inadequacies I felt, coupled with the desire to do my best. I was eager and excited to serve but doubted my ability to be a good leader.
After a few months as the Relief Society president, I felt that I wasn’t doing enough. I wanted to be able to connect with the sisters and be in tune with their individual needs, but I felt that I was coming up short.
I talked with my bishop and expressed my concerns. I explained how I just couldn’t reach all of the sisters I wanted to. I described how I wished that I had five of me to get the job done the way I thought it should be. I tried to keep my concerns light and humorous, but my eyes quickly filled with tears of discouragement. He smiled and offered some of the best leadership advice I have ever received.
“Are you familiar with the story of the shepherd who, upon losing one of his flock, left ‘the ninety and nine’ to find it?” he asked (see Luke 15:4–7). I nodded.
“There seems to be so much wisdom in that parable,” he continued. “The shepherd knew that the ninety and nine would be all right if he left them to look for the one lost sheep.”
Then my bishop offered the following advice:
“You see, the ninety and nine have a great way of looking after each other when you’re gone. They will buoy each other up and hold together very well. I suggest that you concentrate on the ones who seem lost. The rest will be OK.”
I felt a strong witness that what he had told me was true and that I didn’t need to worry about the entire flock all at once. My purpose was to find those who were lost and to invite them back into the fold. In that way, Heavenly Father’s purposes could be brought to pass, and I could be a tool in His hands.
As I heeded the bishop’s counsel, I felt a greater measure of understanding of how the Lord would have me serve in His kingdom. I also received spiritual fulfillment that strengthened me in my calling because I was serving as the Savior had instructed. Through the power of the Holy Ghost, my bishop had given me a great gift of understanding and insight.
I testify that as we pray and seek inspiration from our priesthood leaders, they will be inspired to show us how to lead in righteous ways.