Gospel Story Finder

One day when the Prophet was visiting his parents’ home in Far West, a group of militiamen burst through the door.
Which one of you is Joe Smith?
We’re here to kill him!
Joseph immediately stepped forward, smiled at the men, and shook their hands.
I’m Joseph. Nice to meet you. Please, come and sit down.
The men stared in disbelief at the Prophet as he continued to speak.
We Mormons believe in Jesus Christ and just want peace. But we have had a lot of persecution these past months since we’ve moved to Missouri. As far as I know, none of us have ever broken the law. But if we have, we’re ready to be tried by the law.
Mother, I believe I will go home. Emma will be expecting me.
You shall not go alone, for it is not safe.
We will go with you and guard you.
Thank you.
We promise to disband the militia under us and go home.
If you need us at all, we’ll come back and do whatever you need.
Outside Joseph’s parents’ home, the rest of the men talked about their encounter with the Prophet.
Did you not feel strangely when he took you by the hand? I never felt so in my life.
I felt as though I could not move. I would not harm one hair of that man’s head for the whole world.
This is the last time you will ever catch me coming to kill Joe Smith or the Mormons either.

I joined the Church at age 16 and at 17, against all odds, left England for America to escape a life of poverty. I was completely alone and frightened, but I was determined. I had one plan: to become rich and famous. A few years before, I had seen a documentary about orphanages in Romania that deeply impacted my young, fierce heart. I was no stranger to childhood trauma, so I set a goal to get enough money to fund an orphanage and truly make a difference in the world.
I couldn’t have known then how different my life would turn out. I got married at age 25, and my husband soon joined the Church. By then I had managed to become quite successful, but I was still looking for true “success” (or at least what I thought was success at the time: fame and fortune). I longed to make a big difference. Strangely enough, I didn’t want to get pregnant, but I had a strong feeling that we shouldn’t do anything to prevent pregnancy. It turned out that my feeling was right because after about a year, nothing had happened.
Growing up, I always loved children, even though my plans didn’t include having more than one or two of my own in the far distant future. I didn’t think I’d be too disappointed if I couldn’t have children at all, but when suddenly faced with that very real possibility, I was devastated.
Over the next two years, I became angry, resentful, and desperate. Ironically, “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” came out around the time I got married, and that message increasingly affected me in a negative way because I felt like I couldn’t fulfill my duty to have children. When my husband and I visited doctors, they couldn’t find any reason for the infertility. It seemed so unfair. I wondered why God had done this to me. Little did I know, my heart was changing. I had always been hyper-focused on success, but now, for the first time in my life, my heart wanted a baby more than anything else.
As time marched on, I felt more and more forgotten, desperate, alone … abandoned by God. I pasted on a cheerful smile, but no one understood what my husband and I were really going through. One day, I spoke to my husband’s grandmother, who was very wise and spiritual. As I shared my feelings with her, she said, “You know, there are many other ways to be a mother.” I felt her words penetrate my heart to its core. I was humbled. I knew this was an answer from Heavenly Father. I had only been fixated on having a baby through my own body. A glimmer of hope emerged as we considered other options. We became foster parents.
Soon our first foster baby, Benjamin, came to us. My bond with him was overwhelming, but I felt faint promptings that he wouldn’t be with us forever. I was heartbroken at the thought of him leaving us. And I was desperate for a baby I could keep. The Church’s Family Services was helping couples with adoptions at the time, so I went to my bishop to get information. The next week I got a call from a social worker who was looking to place a baby in a foster/adoption home. This was music to my ears. Despite the possibility of the baby having developmental issues, we felt the Lord’s hand directing us and we had faith to go forward. I’m not going to lie—I was scared. But it felt right, and baby Daniel was delivered to our home that very night.
Within days he became gravely ill, was hospitalized, and given a 50 percent chance to live. I sat by his crib for 11 days alternately praying and crying over him. I never once left the hospital. When Daniel’s birth parents came to see him (the adoption wasn’t final yet), there I was, looking like a complete disaster! But they seemed disconnected and showed no emotion whatsoever when they saw him.
This was a huge “aha” moment for me. I realized then that I really was Daniel’s mother! It didn’t matter that I hadn’t given birth to him—he was meant to be mine. I learned a lot about motherhood in those 11 days. I would have done anything for him.
Daniel’s life was spared. Benjamin returned to his biological family. But the Lord stayed by our side. Since then, we have adopted six more children and have miraculously had two of our own. I could shout from the rooftops about the miracles I’ve witnessed in my life. I have such a testimony of Heavenly Father’s promise to us that we can have the blessings we desire, even in ways we might not have originally expected or when we expect them (see 2 Nephi 10:17; Alma 37:17).
Having nine kids is hard at times. It’s nonstop laundry, it’s different personalities, and each child comes with different issues. But I know they were all heaven-sent. Honestly, it feels like my dream of making a difference and owning my own orphanage has come true after all!
My trial of infertility led me to my greatest blessings. I feel like I had to be truly humbled so I could submit to God’s will instead of my own. I experienced that “mighty change of heart” (see Alma 5:13). And through this kind of submission, He has guided me. He has blessed me with dreams, visions, and miracles that have led me to each child. He always had a plan for me! Even when I felt forgotten, He was there.
Infertility can be very dark and lonely. I think back on those days when it was hard to go to church without children—when the family proclamation held a bitter sting. I couldn’t see then what I see now. The loving words in the proclamation always applied to me. Regardless of our circumstances, we do each have a place in Heavenly Father’s eternal plan.

Being asked to deliver a message to millions of people in the April 2020 general conference introduced me to a whole new level of feeling overwhelmed. But I felt comforted knowing that the Lord would help me.
As I prepared my message, I was thinking about how to receive revelation. This helped me appreciate the dedication of those who speak in general conference.
When conference arrived, I felt anxious, but meeting Elder Gerrit W. Gong and the other General Authorities helped me feel peace. I then met President Russell M. Nelson. He spoke to me as if we had known each other our whole lives. I felt the pure love of Christ as I talked with the prophet.
Laudy K.
When I found out I was going to be a part of a Face to Face event, the thing that excited me most was the opportunity to work with an Apostle.
I was nervous before the broadcast because I needed to say some things in Portuguese. I said to Elder Soares, “I’m worried my American accent is going to come through.” He replied with a smile and a wink, saying, “Max, accents are charming!”
I felt the Spirit so strongly when I heard him witness that the Savior lives and loves all of us individually.
Max A.
When I was 12, my father became a mission president in Chile. While there, he worked closely with Elder Holland. One day I said, “Dad, Elder Holland is in my math book.”
“Yesterday it took Jeff Holland 1 hour to get to work. This morning, Jeff drove to the train station for 20 minutes, waited for the train for 7 minutes, rode the train for 12 minutes, and then walked for 15 minutes to get to work. How long did it take Jeff to get to work this morning?”
As a joke, my parents sent a picture of the math problem to Elder Holland with a note: “Elder Holland, could you please help Whit with her math homework?”
Elder Holland wrote back with a letter.
“Dear Whitney—I was pleased you discovered my day job. I regularly submit math problems for textbooks and sometimes I just don’t know whose name to use. I think I will use yours next. (‘If Whitney Wilcox has 5 boyfriends in Provo and gains 1 a day for 14 days in Chile, how many of them will be baptized, go on missions, and want to marry her?’) Thanks for being here! I am immensely proud of you! Jeff Holland.”
Obviously Elder Holland was joking about writing math problems (and having multiple boyfriends!). But his kind note made me feel like I was important.
When Elder Holland taught the members in Chile to read the Book of Mormon every day, I started reading on my own, as a 12-year-old. That’s when I really started to develop my testimony.
Whitney L.
In 2021, my parents were called as mission leaders over the France Lyon Mission. In 2022, Elder Soares came to visit. In his talk to the missionaries, he mentioned that his luggage got lost on one of his flights.
This was kind of a wake-up call for me. It’s easy to see apostles and prophets on our screens and think that life is easy for them. But our leaders don’t ask to do this—they are called to do it. They choose to follow the Lord, and that means leaving behind their plans for the future.
Elder Soares taught me what it means to be a disciple of Christ. Even though he was busy and had his own struggles, he tried to talk to as many members as possible. I realized that the General Authorities are people like you and me who have chosen Christ and work to show His love.
Lydie L.
If you haven’t met an Apostle, that’s OK! Most of us haven’t. You can gain a testimony that they are called of God by listening to, following, and praying about their teachings.
I met Church leaders when I hosted a Face to Face event, but that wasn’t when I gained a testimony that they are called of God.
When I hear their words, practice what they teach, and see myself change into a more Christlike person, that’s when I feel God confirming to me that they are special witnesses of Christ.
Aaron K.
I always look forward to general conference. I remember feeling so happy when my friends and I made a list of the things the prophet said and reminded each other to do those things. One was to go to the temple, and my friends and I went together. It was really fun, and I felt so much peace. Doing what the prophet asked helped me realize how much Jesus Christ loves me.
Leticia F.
Whether you meet an Apostle or not, you can know the truth: Apostles testify of truth and want nothing but the best for you. As you follow them, the Holy Ghost will let you know that they are called of God.

Years later, when a good friend of mine took her own life, I decided to do some fundraising for a suicide bereavement group. One day I got a phone call from one of the group coordinators. She said there was another volunteer opportunity and my name just wouldn’t leave her mind.

She asked if I would be interested in volunteering as a support worker for a rape crisis center. As a support worker, I would meet with victims, talk them through what was going to happen, and tell them about the importance of counseling. I would also just be a support to them and their families. I told the woman that I felt the reason my name kept coming to her mind was because of what I had been through. I received the training and worked as a volunteer support worker for a couple of years.

This experience was so rewarding for me. Each time I would get the call to go to the crisis center, I always said a prayer. I would say, “Heavenly Father, You know this person, You know what she has been through, and You know what she needs to hear. Please let me be an instrument in Your hands to help them hear what they need to hear.”

As I helped victims work toward recovery, I would tell them that they had a choice. I would say, “Are you going to stay a victim or be a survivor? Some days you’ll feel that power is taken from you, but you can take the power and control back by not letting the memory of the event destroy who you are. That is how you become a survivor.”

Sometimes victims are not ready to go to counseling for a long time, but I would always encourage them and tell them that it is so important to go when they are ready. I always tried to make sure that a person who walked in as a victim would walk out as a survivor. On my way back home, I always thanked Heavenly Father for allowing me to be of some small help to others. This gave me the strength to move forward in my own life.

On the morning of 19 August 1991, families in Ukraine woke up to startling news: The government they had lived under for nearly 70 years had suddenly ceased to exist. In an instant, life changed forever.
Dmitry Mikulin from Kharkov, Ukraine, remembers well both that morning and the disorienting days that followed. “We went to sleep in one country and woke up in another,” he says. “Almost immediately, people began to experience real freedom in many facets of life.”
Many viewed the freedom to believe in God as a great blessing. Elder Boyd K. Packer of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles dedicated the land of Ukraine for the preaching of the restored gospel on 12 September 1991. A year later missionaries first came to Kharkov, Ukraine’s second largest city. And in January 1993, a branch was organized in the residential Alekseyevka area of town.
In his dedicatory prayer, Elder Packer asked “that the people [in Ukraine] will be blessed with food and clothing and shelter.” Obtaining these necessities has been a challenge for most citizens of Ukraine. Many have had to work long hours at the expense of family time. For others, the opportunity to grow rich through privatization of business has provided a distraction from home life. In addition, Ukraine has one of the highest divorce rates in the world, the number of out-of-wedlock births is increasing, and more couples are choosing to have one child or to remain childless. Somehow, for many citizens of Ukraine, the family has seemed to lose much of its significance.
But Latter-day Saints in Kharkov say the Church has helped restore their faith in the family. Dmitry, a returned missionary who recently moved from Kharkov to Moscow and now serves as second counselor in the Russia Moscow South Mission presidency, is one of these valiant Saints. He was sealed to his mother and father in the Freiberg Germany Temple in April 2000 and to his wife, Viktoriya, in the Stockholm Sweden Temple in August 2003.
“When we heard of the restored gospel, it gave us hope, a strong foundation, and faith in eternal life for our family,” he says. “Those problems that once seemed important became insignificant. Priorities in the family changed; values and the feelings of confidence and protection appeared.”
Dmitry’s father, Sergey, is currently Kharkov district president. He adds, “Our Church is the only place where people learn the truth about the family.”
Because of this fact, members of the Alekseyevka Branch are committed to building on eternal principles to strengthen families, not just their own but also other families who are striving to be in the world but not of the world (see John 17:11–14). The “family first” attitude has helped many here to achieve happiness in home life despite those distractions inherent in modern Ukraine. For Saints in Alekseyevka, the family and eternal goals permeate everything they do.
Vitaly Yemtsov served in the Soviet army on the East German side of the Berlin Wall in 1988. “I had a normal childhood,” Brother Yemtsov says, “but when I lived in Germany, I saw how families suffered under a foreign government. I felt bad for them. Soldiers often treated them harshly. After that experience, I wanted to have a better family life than those I saw, better even than the family in which I grew up.”
After his service in the army, Vitaly Yemtsov and a childhood friend became dissatisfied with the spiritual emptiness they felt and dedicated themselves to finding the truth. Both quickly accepted the restored gospel just months after the Church was introduced in Kharkov. “When I met the missionaries, I finally found spiritual food, especially for the family,” he says. “I found what is lacking all around us.”
However, faith does not free Brother Yemtsov and his wife, Lyudmila, from the family-threatening pressures and challenges of life. Within 18 months, both left well-paying jobs that required too much sacrifice of family time. Both found new jobs offering comparable salaries. Even so, everyday life often makes it difficult to focus on the family. Brother Yemtsov works nine hours a day, six days a week painting and repairing cars. Sister Yemtsova until recently worked as a warehouse manager. She now works at a care center for the elderly. In addition, Vitaly serves as branch president and as an institute teacher, and Lyudmila is district Young Women president.
Like others in their country, the Yemtsovs continually face challenges stemming from influences that subtly work against the family. Brother Yemtsov often feels isolated at work as the only employee who neither smokes nor drinks. “Everyone was surprised when I told them that I don’t do any of that,” he says. “Some considered me crazy in the beginning. Most respect me for it though.”
Alcoholism is a serious problem in Ukraine; some people do not know anyone who does not drink. Smoking is almost as widespread, especially among youth. Pornographic images are visible on advertisements and are for sale on almost any street corner.
“There is temptation everywhere,” says Sister Yemtsova. “Satan works diligently here. But the Spirit works diligently too. We find that it is not just how much time we spend together as a family but also what we do during that time that is important. And we make it a priority to do things that strengthen our bond.” For example, they say that family prayer and scripture study have become crucial, daily reminders of the importance of family happiness.
“The Lord said, ‘Stand ye in holy places,’” says Brother Yemtsov (D&C 87:8). “We try to make our home our own holy place so time spent together here will bring us closer.”
If he so chose, Aleksandr Chervyakov could have it all materially. Nine years ago he founded his own food technology company. Clients come from all over Ukraine and even Russia to take advantage of his firm’s services. “Without the Church, I could have easily become one of those people who works all the time and earns more than enough money but lacks the blessings of a loving eternal family,” Brother Chervyakov admits.
Fortunately, when two young missionaries asked if he would like to know more about Jesus Christ, he said yes. He and his wife, Lyudmila, and daughter, Inna, were baptized in 1995. Since then he has reduced his time at work so that he can nurture relationships within his family as well as serve in the Church. He has been the branch president and is currently second counselor in the branch presidency. The Chervyakovs were sealed in the temple in August 1997.
“One thing that has helped us keep our priorities in order has been family home evening,” says Aleksandr. “It’s so easy to forget what is truly important. Monday nights provide a great opportunity to forget about everything that is not important and to concentrate on our family.”
He says of their family home evening activities: “We always read from the scriptures or from the Liahona. If there are any family-related issues, we discuss them. Right now the question is, Which university will Inna enter when she graduates next year? We have been discussing that a lot lately. And we have fun. I think it’s a great secret of life that being with one’s family is fun. Sometimes we even dance.”
President Gordon B. Hinckley has said: “We believe that the family is the basic unit of society. You can’t have a strong community without strong families. You can’t have a strong nation without strong families—the father, the mother, the children as one unit working together. Now the family is falling apart all over America, all over the world. If we can just cultivate good, wholesome family life among our members, I don’t worry very much about the future of this Church.”1
Unfortunately, many families are struggling. However, there is tremendous hope because of the dedication of the Saints. Few people in Ukraine know the eternal principles that lead to happiness in the family, but the number is growing. As members live these teachings, their friends and family notice. Opportunities are abundant to share the peace members experience at home because of their diligence in establishing a house of God.
President Hinckley noted: “If we live the gospel, people will come into the Church. They will see the virtue of our lives, and they will be attracted to the message we have to teach. That message places great emphasis on the family.”2 And it is a message the Saints in Kharkov have embraced.

Examples of his high regard for youths are abundant. When John Bellows and his father once visited the Prophet, the boy felt important because Joseph Smith paid “considerable attention to me” during the hour’s conversation between the two adults. William H. Walker told how the Prophet, upon learning that a house guest had insulted one of the hired girls at the Mansion House, ordered the man out without allowing him to pay his bill: “I want none of your money, or any other man’s of your kind.” On another occasion, Emma and Joseph took in some of the ten Walker children when Sister Walker died. “Every privilege was accorded us,” daughter Lucy Walker recorded. Joseph Smith treated her brother Loren like an intimate and trusted friend: “He was ever by his side arm in arm; they walked and conversed freely on various subjects.” When the prophet, as a house guest once with the Hess family, tired of studying, he diverted himself by playing with the children in their games around the house, including fourteen-year-old John W. Hess.

A native of São Paulo, Brazil, Elder Soares and his wife, Rosana Fernanda Morgado Soares, traveled occasionally to the United States for training as director of temporal affairs for the Brazil South Area. Committed to attending church wherever they traveled, the Soareses remember one Sunday a good Samaritan friendshipped them at church. Grateful for this instant friendship, Elder and Sister Soares realized an additional blessing later that night when they needed his help again. An expectant mother, Sister Soares miscarried.
Elder Soares tearfully recalls: “I didn’t know anybody; I didn’t know the medical system. But the Lord protected us.” Their newfound friend proved to be the Lord’s answer to their prayers, helping them to obtain much-needed medical care. “We were protected,” Elder Soares testifies, “because we went to church that day.”

I was baptized in May 2016. My first year of seminary started later that year. I was skeptical at first, and I wasn’t ready to get up early, but I was prompted to go. I was still a little unsure about recognizing the voice of the Spirit, but being in seminary has helped me recognize that voice. Through the Spirit, I’m able to know the scriptures are true. I know that the Spirit prompts me to highlight scriptures with meaning and that there’s always a reason. The scriptures guide me when I’m lost, and they teach me. Whenever I’m having a bad day, I can open them up and make my day better.
Shelby L., age 16, Montana, USA

When I first learned to write, I wrote everything backwards, in a mirror image. Later I learned to write my letters in the right direction, but my handwriting was very sloppy. My mother was worried, but Mrs. Leroy, my second-grade teacher, said, “He’s doing well in math and in other areas, so don’t worry about his handwriting. It will improve.”
Sometimes you wonder if you’re progressing or not. But if any of us looked back to when we were in kindergarten, we could certainly see we have made progress. You’re getting better and better in every way.

A number of years ago I was in Atlanta, Georgia, as an attorney representing a man who was buying a business. After several days of negotiations, we reached an agreement and signed the closing documents. That evening one of the sellers invited us to a dinner to celebrate the closing. When I arrived, he offered me an alcoholic drink, which I declined. He then said, “Are you a Saint?” I didn’t fully understand what he meant, and he repeated, “Are you a Latter-day Saint?” I responded, “Yes, I am,” and he said he had been observing my personal habits during our negotiations and had concluded that I was either LDS or had a stomach problem. We both chuckled. He then informed me that he had only known one member of the Church on a personal basis: David B. Haight. They were both executives in Chicago with a large retail chain following World War II. He told me of the significant influence Elder Haight had been in his life and that he held him in the highest regard.
As I flew back home to San Francisco, I thought about what had occurred, especially in two respects: I was surprised at how it felt to be asked if I was a Saint, and I was impressed with the positive influence one outstanding example—Elder Haight—had on this good man.

David discovered an interesting person sitting behind the main character in one of his cartoons.
The guy didn’t have a name, but he was just the sort of person David was looking for. In learning to be a cartoonist, David had been fiddling with different drawing styles. Then when he was drawing the background people in a cartoon, suddenly he found he had drawn a guy with just the right look. He had a pudgy nose, no forehead, his mouth in danger of sliding down his neck, and a soft slouching body. And the expression on his face was one of being slightly amused at life’s absurdities. He was the perfect model for the character in David’s new cartoon strip called Larger Than Life.
“I liked him more than the main guy,” said David Gallagher, a young cartoonist whose low-key sense of humor comes out in his cartoon strip. His characters, who find themselves caught in some odd moments, usually have a slightly dumbfounded look. “The emotions and expressions are always toned down,” said David. “I thought it would be funnier just to be subtle about things in my cartoons.”

Natanael held Mom’s hand tightly as they walked into the Primary room. Today was Natanael’s second week in the Sunbeam class. His stomach felt fluttery, and with each step, he walked a little more slowly.
Last week, Primary had been kind of confusing. During singing time, Mia kept standing up and turning around in circles. Natanael was tired of sitting, so he stood up too. But then his teacher asked him to sit back down. During sharing time, some of the older children talked and laughed. Sometimes it was too noisy to hear what Sister Miranda, the Primary president, was saying. When his friend Cara started crying, it made Natanael feel like crying too.
As he got closer to the front row, Natanael didn’t want to let go of Mom’s hand. He was worried that Primary would be confusing this week too. Then he saw his teacher.
“Hi, Natanael,” Sister Tejada said. “I’m glad to see you.” Sister Tejada patted the seat next to her.
Natanael liked his teacher’s friendly smile. He let go of Mom’s hand and sat down by Sister Tejada.
“I’ll be back to pick you up after class,” Mom said. “Remember to be reverent.”
Natanael wasn’t sure he knew how.
After the opening prayer, Sister Miranda stood up. “Today we have a special visitor,” she said.
Suddenly, a puppet appeared from behind a table next to Sister Miranda. The puppet wiggled, waved his arms, and said, “Is it time to go yet? I need a drink!”
Some of the children giggled.
“This is Arlo’s first time in Primary,” Sister Miranda said, “and he doesn’t know how to be reverent. But before he can be reverent, he needs to learn good Primary manners.”
Natanael was surprised. At dinner Mom sometimes reminded him to put his napkin on his lap. That was good manners. And Dad always asked everyone to thank Mom for the nice meal before they started clearing off the table. That was good manners too. But what were Primary manners?
Arlo leaned backward over the front of the table. “Hey, everybody looks funny upside down!” he said.
“Good manners are rules that show we respect other people,” Sister Miranda explained. “Arlo doesn’t know the rules for good Primary manners. Do you think we could teach him?” she asked.
Sister Miranda went to the chalkboard and drew an arm. “What should Arlo do with his arms?” she asked.
“Fold them!” Mia called out.
“That’s right,” Sister Miranda said.
Arlo sat up. He folded his arms and raised them over his head. “Oh, you mean like this?” he asked.
Natanael knew that wasn’t right.
Sister Miranda asked if everyone in Primary could show Arlo how to fold his arms.
Natanael quickly folded his arms. Arlo folded his arms too.
On the chalkboard, next to the drawing of the arm, Sister Miranda wrote, “Fold our arms.”
As Sister Miranda drew more pictures, the children taught Arlo the rules for good Primary manners. Natanael was glad that he knew most of them already.
Now Arlo wasn’t wiggling or waving his arms or calling out. His legs were still, and his arms were folded. The children were listening quietly too. Primary didn’t seem noisy and confusing anymore. Natanael felt calm and happy. It wouldn’t be too hard to be reverent in Primary. He already knew how.

“This time, I’m really going to do it,” I told myself. “This time, I’m going to make it all the way through the Book of Mormon.”
In the past I had read a chapter here, a chapter there, but now I wanted to say I’d read it from cover to cover. “I’ll put Moroni’s promise to the test,” I told myself, eager to get started. “I’ll finally learn whether the Church is true.”
For the next 90 days, I diligently devoured the book’s contents. Exultant with joy as I closed with Moroni’s farewell and amen, I scrambled to my knees.
Brimming with anticipation, I posed my question: Was the Book of Mormon true? As I waited for a response, a cricket chirped. The air conditioner switched on. My watch intrusively ticked off the seconds as they passed. There was no burning bosom sensation, no chorus of angels, no flash of knowing. Nothing.
I was somewhat perplexed. “Do I just need to read the book again?” I thought to myself. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”
Three months later, again finishing with Moroni’s testimony, I leapt to the floor, doubly sure I’d done my part, doubly sure an answer would come. But my hopes were disappointed when, as before, my inquiry was met with silence. Unsure of what else to do, I got off my knees and started over. Again. But even after a third reading, there came no reply. I was confused. Where was the answer I’d been promised?
Not to be defeated, I picked up my scriptures, now with a fraying front cover, full of red highlighted verses and with random pages beginning to slip from the binding. “Okay,” I said to myself, “once more.”
When at last I finished the book for the fourth time in a 12-month period, I didn’t immediately drop to my knees. I sat for some time, reflecting on the year. Truly, it had been a remarkable period of growth and change. I smiled, noting to myself that it was common these days for me to feel happy.
I thought about friendships I had formed with wonderful peers who strengthened my faith. I thought about how my family relationships had taken a dramatic turn for the better. I hadn’t fought with my siblings in months, and my parents and I seemed to communicate with amazing ease. What’s more, schoolwork seemed less stressful, odd jobs had been available to provide extra income, and even my physical fitness had improved.
But the most significant change had been in my spirit. I now looked forward to attending church, gladly paid tithes, fasted and prayed with much greater faith, and could list many times when the Spirit had prompted me to avoid danger, express kindness, or voice truth.
All told, there was little in my life that wasn’t drastically better now than it had been just 12 months earlier. “That’s so cool!” I said out loud, slipping to my knees.
Bowing my head, I couldn’t even ask the question. “I get it,” I said to the Lord. “I get it. The truth of this book isn’t always manifest in burning bosoms and visions of angels; it’s manifest in the lives of the people who read it and put it to use. I don’t need to ask anymore if this book is true. I experience its truth every day I live its teachings.”
This wasn’t the answer I had anticipated when I first set out to put Moroni’s promise to the test. It was far better. The Lord could have given me a single flash of confirming peace. Instead, He had given me a whole year of it.

Shortly after returning from his mission Ross went to work for a packaging and printing company in West London. During break times the men would meet in a smoke-filled room to play darts. Ross chose to stay at his workstation and read the Book of Mormon. One of the female packers asked him why he didn’t join the others and Ross took the opportunity to tell her about the word of wisdom and shared gospel principles with her. Not long after that conversation he changed jobs.

A couple of years later, while serving as a bishop, he received information about a new family moving into his ward. He felt he knew the name and to his delight found it to be that of the lady with whom he’d had the gospel discussion. Along with her husband and son she had joined the Church not long after her breaktime discussion with Ross.

On the day of my baptism I was nervous – not about the decision that I had made to become a member of the church, nor about my belief in our Saviour Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon – but because I was worried about being fully immersed in water. However, I should not have worried. I cannot adequately describe the feeling I felt as I was immersed and raised out of the font feeling clean, fresh, pure and rebuilt. As I was confirmed I could feel the Holy Spirit at work. I had a tingling sensation down my spine, I felt calm, strong, and galvanised. I still feel the Holy Spirit with me, especially when I study the scriptures and pray to Heavenly Father. When the Holy Spirit is near I feel goosebumps on my arms and legs, and this sensation gives me comfort, and I know that I will never be alone.

One who received and welcomed the gift of peace was Joseph Millett, an early missionary to the Maritime Provinces of Canada, who learned, while there and in his later experiences in life, of the need to rely on heavenly help. An experience which he recalled in his journal is a beautiful illustration of simple yet profound faith:

“One of my children came in, said that Brother Newton Hall’s folks were out of bread. Had none that day. I put … our flour in [a] sack to send up to Brother Hall’s. Just then Brother Hall came in. Says I, ‘Brother Hall, how are you [fixed] for flour.’ ‘Brother Millett, we have none.’ ‘Well, Brother Hall, there is some in that sack. I have divided [it] and was going to send it to you. Your children told mine that you were out.’ Brother Hall began to cry. Said he had tried others. Could not get any. Went to the cedars and prayed to the Lord and the Lord told him to go to Joseph Millett. ‘Well, Brother Hall, you needn’t bring this back if the Lord sent you for it. You don’t owe me for it.’ You can’t tell how good it made me feel to know that the Lord knew that there was such a person as Joseph Millett.”

Prayer brought the gift of peace to Newton Hall and to Joseph Millett.

A dear sister who lived in very humble circumstances once said to me, “Sister, we’re going to be able to go to the temple!” I couldn’t think of any way to respond, because I couldn’t imagine how they’d be able to accomplish such a goal; the closest temple was being built in Tokyo. Then she said, “If we sell everything in our home we don’t need …” My mind quickly took me through their humble home, which I had visited several times. I wondered what they were going to sell that they didn’t need. “… And if we save every rupiah we can, we’ll be able to go to the temple in fifty-five years!” I felt a lump in my throat and couldn’t have responded even if I had thought of something to say. Then she added, “Oh, Sister, I hope we’ll still be alive—we’ll be 110 years old.” As I write this, I’m able to look out my office window and see the Provo Temple. ...
There was the Relief Society leader with whom we had been discussing visiting teaching. We talked about contacting those for whom we had responsibility. At one point she began to speak, almost apologetically. “Oh, Sister, you know that none of us in the branch have telephones. So we have to ask Heavenly Father if anyone needs us.” She illustrated with many examples. She would pray in the morning, asking if anyone needed her; frequently she would receive a strong impression that she should visit one of the members; sometimes she would even feel strongly about taking food or something else. And I wondered how many times I had let the telephone interfere with that pure form of communication. ...
One time as we talked about good nutrition, a sweet mother from the Philippines spoke to me. “You know, Sister, I don’t have enough money to buy all the things I’d like. So before I go to the market, I kneel and ask Heavenly Father to help me spend my few pesos wisely and buy the things that will be best for my family. As I bring home my food, I again ask him to help me prepare it properly. And then, Sister, when it is time for us to eat, we know we can ask Heavenly Father to bless our food—to help us be strong and healthy with what we have been able to buy and fix.” And I thought of how many times a blessing on the food had been for me but a signal to eat. ...
There was the group of Relief Society women in Central Java who would each save a spoonful of rice in the morning before they began cooking for the day. They’d put that spoonful, each day, in a plastic bag; then on Saturday they would bring their bags with them to Relief Society. If anyone was ill or had not been attending church for some time, all the sisters would walk together following the meeting to visit her. And they would take some of the rice to share. I’ve learned much about service and consecration from such examples.
I was serving in Indonesia when the Book of Mormon was first translated and printed in that language. During that time I had an inkling of what it must have been like for Joseph Smith and others when they were finally able to give so many others the privilege of reading the book. One of my local companions, an Indonesian sister from the city of Solo, slept with her copy right beside her.
The chance to share the gospel sometimes came in unexpected ways. This happened once in Taiwan. Without any previous language training, I was struggling daily to learn Mandarin Chinese. Tracting provided the thrill of a lifetime—having someone answer the door when it was my turn to talk! How amazing it was to me those first few times that someone could actually understand some of my sounds!
Then one morning an American woman answered—totally unexpected. Her husband was in the Navy. We were caught off guard and were speechless. Finally she said, “Oh, you must be Mormon missionaries! Come on in—I used to be a Mormon.” And thus began a miracle.
Her husband wasn’t a member and she wasn’t active. A teenage son and daughter had been baptized but weren’t active at the time either. We had the privilege of switching from Mandarin to English and sharing the gospel with this great family. The father was eventually baptized, both children served missions, and now the father and mother are working in a temple. Who would have believed we would meet that wonderful American family in Tainan, Taiwan!
Through these and many other experiences, I have learned one of the great lessons of missionary work: I gained as much from others as they did from me. We all grew spiritually—we were teaching each other. I realized there is a need for all of us to be open to every chance to lift, help, teach, and strengthen one another … no matter where or when.

One of the first lessons elders and sisters learn at the England MTC might surprise you. The mission president’s wife, Sister Carol Sperry, talks about peeling oranges.

“It’s a lesson I learned from my father-in-law,” she says. “When my husband and I were first engaged, he wanted to get better acquainted with me. ‘Let’s go peel an orange together,’ he said.” It wasn’t the orange that was important, it was the time spent listening to each other. It became a tradition in the Sperry household, and now it’s a tradition at the MTC.

“I talk about getting along with companions,” Sister Sperry says. “I tell them sometimes you need to work out your concerns. Peeling an orange together is a way of saying I care, I want to know what you’re feeling.”

It’s also a principle that works with investigators. “Of course you want to teach them, and the discussions present the gospel in an orderly way,” Sister Sperry advises. “But there are times when you need to just peel an orange together, too.”

The lesson is well remembered. “I receive lots of letters saying, ‘I’m still peeling oranges,’” Sister Sperry notes.

During my first two years of teaching seminary in Nevada, I assigned two students in each class to be what we called “seminary phantoms.” They were to do nice things throughout the year for their fellow students, without anyone knowing.
Most of the students in my early-morning class were from the same two wards, except for one freshman. His name was Clark, and every day he sat by himself near the front of the room. About three months into the year, I had the class grouped into teams. I asked one boy to let Clark be on his team, and he asked, “Who’s Clark?” It was then that I realized how few people knew Clark.
A few weeks later, as the Christmas season drew near, we geared up to do our annual seminary Christmas activity called “secret Santas.” Students who wanted to participate signed up to do nice things, anonymously, for another student during the week before Christmas break. As the sign-up list went around, nearly everyone signed up. Everyone except Clark.
After class, I pulled aside my two seminary phantoms and asked if they would do a favor for someone in the class. They both willingly agreed. I explained about Clark and asked if they would mind doing just one nice thing for him from his secret Santa.
The following Monday, Clark’s book slot was decorated with ribbons and candy. Tuesday, there were small gifts. As the class came in both days, they crowded around him to see what he had received. Again on Wednesday, there was a small surprise left for him on my desk. When Thursday came, he found a gingerbread house on his desk. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
The next morning was Friday, the last day before Christmas vacation. Clark came into class with a present of his own. It was a huge gingerbread house that must have taken him and his mother all evening to make. He asked if I would please give it to his secret Santa. When class was over, Clark was slow in leaving, hoping to find out who I would give his gift to. But I convinced him that his Santa wanted to remain a secret. As he walked down the street, a car which a few minutes earlier had appeared to drive off, turned into the parking lot again, and two girls got an early Christmas present.
Seminary became Clark’s favorite class. Throughout the remaining three years, he had some wonderful friends in seminary. I can’t help but think that it was partially the result of those two seminary phantoms. The year that he graduated from high school and seminary, I was transferred to another state.
The following summer, my family and I came back to visit. Late one evening, at the home where we were staying, we heard a car drive by. The horn honked and someone yelled, “We love you, Brother Fowler!” In the morning, I found my car “decorated” with toilet paper. Inside was a note with a copy of a mission call attached to it. It was from Clark. It read, “Seminary was the inspiration for the day and for my life. Thanks!”

Josie yawned as she slowed her jog to a walk. Today was the big race! She had been looking forward to this day for months. But instead of feeling excited during warm-ups, Josie felt tired.
“How’s it going?” her older sister, Christine, asked. She sat down with Josie on the grass so they could stretch their legs.
“I’m really tired today,” Josie said, reaching for her toes.
She had been sick and had to miss several days of school. So last night she stayed up late catching up on her schoolwork.
“I hope I don’t let our team down,” Josie said.
“Just do the best you can,” Christine said. “Looks like we’re about to start!”
The girls jogged over to join their teammates. As they lined up with the other runners, Josie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew her team was counting on her to run fast, as she usually did. The race time from the top five runners on their team would determine whether their team went on to the finals. She barely had time to get in position when the gun sounded to start the race. Bang! The runners pushed off the starting line and sprinted forward.
Josie pumped her arms and lengthened her steps. She knew she needed to get ahead in the beginning if she wanted to be a top finisher. At first Josie could keep up with the other lead runners. But when she tried to run faster, she couldn’t.
Josie breathed harder. She just couldn’t get her legs to move any faster. The runners behind her started passing her. Usually Josie was the one doing the passing! Maybe I should just give up, she thought.
Josie looked down at the ground as she heard another runner pass her. “Keep going, Josie!” the runner said as she ran by. Josie looked up. Then she smiled. It was one of her teammates.
“You can do it!” another teammate said as she ran past. One by one as Josie’s teammates passed her, they encouraged her to keep running.
Josie felt a surge of determination. Maybe she wouldn’t be in the top five, but she could still finish the race. She focused on her steps and didn’t stop until she finally crossed the finish line.
“I’m sorry if I … didn’t help us … qualify for the next race,” she said between big breaths.
“Our team did qualify!” Josie’s coach said as she ran over to the girls. Everyone on the team cheered, and Christine threw her arms around Josie in a big hug.
That night as Josie knelt to pray, she thought about how her teammates had helped her. Their words gave her strength to keep going when she wanted to quit.
Josie looked up at the picture of Jesus hanging above her bed. Jesus does the same thing for us, she thought. She smiled as she imagined the Savior cheering her on. “Keep going, Josie! I am here to help you.”
Josie thanked Heavenly Father for His help in running the race of life. She felt like she could do anything with Jesus cheering her on!